The Wrong Woman, page 26
Fran sighed. “Once I get a break, I’ll dig into the other autopsies and let you know.”
CHAPTER
64
ADAM STOOD IN front of a wet bar, pouring himself a drink. He glanced over at Kendall when she entered. “Something to take the edge off?”
“Please.” She sank onto the couch, rested her head against the back, and closed her eyes. What a shit day.
“What’s your poison?”
“Not picky.”
Ice clinked against the side of the glass in front of her face. She opened one eye and peered at the caramel-colored liquid, then took a generous sip. The spirit burned a path down to her stomach. “Oh, that’s just what I needed.”
“Figured.” He moved to the seat not far from her and let out a long sigh. They sat there. Quiet surrounded them. Cocooned them. Kendall’s mind raced in a thousand different directions. She would have one thought, follow it, and become sidetracked by something completely different. Too much was happening. Ty arrested. Ty having an affair with a mob wife. Ty exonerated of Gwen’s death. Ty gone. Everything changed.
Only one thing remained the same. Gwen was dead. She was not coming back. Things would never change for her.
Her killer was still out there. And now they were starting over in the investigation, weeks behind where they could’ve been if Ty had come clean up front.
Shit, if Ty had come clean months ago, we wouldn’t be investigating Gwen’s murder at all.
“Who was on the phone?” It was none of her business, but she needed a distraction from thinking about Gwen and who had killed her.
“ME. Called with info on another case of mine. She confirmed my killer was likely responsible for some past unsolved murders.” He pointed to files laid out on the coffee table between them. “Take a look, if you want.”
Kendall picked up a couple of files and flipped through them. She didn’t recognize the first victim, Isabelle Kenyon. Murdered in 2007. Kendall had been a freshman in college. Doubtful she would’ve paid much attention to anything happening outside her Denver University campus sphere.
The next file took her breath away. “Amy Carrington?” A name she knew well. Her heart seized. Someone else Kendall had failed.
“You familiar with the case?” Adam asked.
She stared at him for a moment. “Are you kidding?”
“What?”
Kendall shook her head. “You don’t watch the news much, do you?”
“Hell, no. It’s too damn depressing. Why?”
“There was a story recently you may have found interesting.”
“And what was this interesting story about?”
“Me.” Kendall held up the file in her hand. “And Amy Carrington. While I was in college, I was shot by a guy on my way home. I worked weekends at a casino in Cripple Creek. He ended up killing the girl in the car with me.”
Adam sat up in his seat, nearly spilling his liquor in his lap. His eyebrows were scrunched together. “Wait, you were shot? What the hell happened?”
“I stopped to help what I thought was a stranded motorist. Turned out to be a young woman who’d been kidnapped and raped. I was trying to get to the police station, but the guy chased us down and eventually caught up to us. He shot me and took the girl. Luckily, a cop found me and got me to the hospital before I bled out.”
“Holy shit!” Adam bolted up, sloshing his drink all over his hand and onto the carpet. “Jesus H, that was you?”
She nodded. “More to the point—the murdered woman was Amy Carrington.”
“No, Kendall, you don’t understand.” He placed his glass on the table and wiped his hand on his pantleg. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “Kendall, I’m the cop who found you!”
“What?” Her world went a little wonky for a second. Adam was the cop who’d saved her life? “ No … fucking … way.”
“I swear to God, it was me. You gave me the license plate number of the vehicle he was driving.” He dropped back into his seat.
They sat there, mouths gaping, staring at each other. She’d never known who had saved her that night. He’d never visited her during her recovery. She’d never gotten his name. Had never gone searching for it. She’d locked everything about that night away for a very long time. Eventually, she’d started dealing with it, thanks to Gwen and her family. But she’d never sought out the man who had held her hand and told her she would be okay while they waited for paramedics to arrive.
Kendall looked at Adam. Her heart raced with the memories of that night. But then she remembered the calming effect he’d had on her. The same calming effect he had now, and ever since they had met. And she could see it clearly and wondered how she hadn’t made the connection earlier.
“Thanks,” she said, raising her glass to him. It was long overdue.
He picked up his glass and tipped it toward her. “You’re welcome.”
They both slammed the remainder of their drinks back. Adam got the bottle from the bar, refilled both glasses, and set it on the table between them.
Kendall leaned back into the couch cushions. Her head was pounding, ears buzzing.
What a small fucking world.
CHAPTER
65
Monday,
March 16,
8:55 AM
KENDALL DROPPED ADAM off at his vehicle as the sun was just beginning to break in the east. They had both been slow to get moving that morning. The empty bottle of Jameson sat mockingly on the coffee table and was the reason they were both bleary-eyed and not quite bushy-tailed.
Adam hadn’t told Kendall the ME was tentatively linking Gwen’s death with the other Reaper victims. There were too many things which didn’t quite line up with the MO in the other victim’s cases. Adam wanted time to go through everything before he hit Kendall with that news.
He’d wondered, somewhere around two in the morning, if Kendall had been the target. What if Gwen had been in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Now that the murder investigation was back in full swing, it was time for Adam to revisit some suspects who might have slipped under the radar while he was focused on Ty Butler. Adam wasn’t convinced Gwen Tavich was a victim of the Reaper. Too many things didn’t line up. For one, all of the Reaper’s victims had been young and blonde and Caucasian. Gwen had been in her late thirties and clearly looked it, and she was African American. Additionally, unlike the Reaper’s victims, Gwen had not been brutally raped with a foreign instrument. She hadn’t been raped at all. A big deviation, in Adam’s opinion.
Which meant there was a loose end to tie up. Martin Griffin didn’t seem a likely candidate as Gwen’s murderer, but even a person with the slimmest potential to be the perpetrator had to be eliminated. The last two weeks had been a waste, focusing attention almost solely on Butler. Adam wasn’t going to be as myopic in the investigation, going forward.
Everyone was a suspect until they were satisfactorily cleared.
He drove down 46th Street, next to Rocky Mountain Lake Park, and turned onto King Street. Another two blocks down, and a right on 45th. He checked the address again. Sure enough, Martin Griffin lived two blocks from where Gwen’s body had been discovered. It was also along the exact path the killer took from the park after dumping her body in the lake.
Could Griffin really have been upset enough over his lack of fair compensation to kill Gwen? Or was there more going on than anyone knew about? Martin wasn’t a fan of Butler and how he had been treating Gwen. Had there been more to the relationship between Gwen and Martin? The possibility existed the infatuation was all on Martin’s side—Gwen could’ve been clueless. What if Martin had made an advance and Gwen had turned him down? Could the rebuke of his affections have enraged Martin to the point of killing Gwen?
According to the security cam footage from the restaurant on the night of Gwen’s disappearance, Martin got into his car and drove away a full fourteen minutes before Gwen even left the restaurant. Had he parked somewhere and waited for Gwen to come along? Ambushed her? Taken her back to his place and murdered her after a few days of torture via brink-of-death electrocution?
Full-on speculation without a scant trace of evidence to support the theory, which meant there was no way to obtain a search warrant for Griffin’s apartment.
On top of that, Griffin lived with his mother, which made torturing and killing a woman for days a bit of a long shot. But you could never tell what went on in families. Adam had seen some bizarre shit over the years. To some families, there was no bond stronger than blood. And that meant protecting their own, no matter how vicious the crime.
Sheila Griffin’s house was a one-story, redbrick, Tudor-style home. A long driveway stretched down the side of the house. Adam took a walk down it before ringing the doorbell. He wanted to get a feel for the place before he went inside.
A four-car garage sat behind the house. Above it was what looked to be an apartment. Decent-sized one too. At the end of the structure was a small side yard with a grill and a seating area.
“Can I help you?” a woman’s voice called to him.
He turned to find a woman in her late fifties, early sixties standing at a side door to the main residence. Adam pulled his badge off his belt as he walked toward her.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Detective Adam Taylor with the Denver Police Department.” He showed her his badge as he approached. “I’m investigating the death of Gwen Tavich.”
The woman tsked and shook her head. “That poor woman. Martin is just torn up about it. He loved working at the restaurant.” She gazed at Adam. “But what does her murder have to do with Martin?”
“We’re questioning all the employees as part of our investigation.”
Her arms wrapped around her chest, and her eyes narrowed a bit. “Martin told me you already questioned him at the restaurant. So what are you doing here, Detective?”
“I have to verify some information he provided.” He took out his notepad. A stern look locked Sheila Griffin’s features. “It’s routine but has to be done.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Martin lives here with you?”
“Well, yes, in a way.” She pointed to the apartment over the garage. “He lives up there.”
“I heard he was upset about not getting paid enough for the work he was doing. Did he talk to you about that?”
“Yes, and I agreed with him. Supported him talking to Gwen about it.”
More like screamed and yelled at her after nearly getting himself fired, but whatever. Martin might not have told her what actually happened the night he claimed Gwen agreed to give him a substantial raise.
“It’s a shame he waited so long to do it,” she said. “The restaurant is closed, and he’s trying to find another job.”
“That means moving out of here will take longer.”
Her eyebrows drew together, and her mouth dropped to a frown. “Why would Martin want to move? Rent is low. Utilities are low. The apartment has a state-of-the-art kitchen designed by him, for him so he can practice cooking. He won’t find that anywhere else in the city, for what he pays.”
“But he’s a young man. Maybe he wants a place of his own?”
She laughed. “Detective, I can assure you. While it is true that Martin and I are close—we are all that each other’s had since his father died twelve years ago—we stay out of one another’s business. He comes and goes as he pleases, doesn’t have to check in with me before he goes out. Or has visitors over.” She gave him a knowing wink. “Trust me, there are some times when a mother doesn’t want to know what her son is doing with his guests. I keep my nose out of his business.”
“So, you don’t pay attention to when he comes and goes, or who may be with him?” If she intentionally avoided checking up on her son, would he be able to get a possibly struggling Gwen out of his car and up to his apartment without her knowing?
“Well, I didn’t say that, exactly. It’s hard to avoid noticing a vehicle coming up the driveway. And I’m of an age I like to know who is coming onto my property.”
“Did you happen to hear him come home from work Saturday night? February twenty-second?”
“I did.”
“And what time did he get home?”
“It was around 1:40 in the morning.”
“And you’re certain of the date and time? That was over two weeks ago.”
“Yes, Detective. I was up chatting with a friend in Hawaii when Martin drove up. I saw his headlights as he came down the driveway, and I checked the time. I was shocked I had been Skyping for so long, so I wrapped up my call and got ready for bed.”
Adam glanced down the driveway toward Martin’s apartment above the four-car garage. “Does Martin usually park his car in the garage when he’s home?”
“Yes, we both do. No use leaving them out. The neighborhood is pretty safe, but it still has its share of car break-ins and vandalism.”
“Is there access to Martin’s apartment from the garage?”
“Yes.” She stepped off the small cement porch and crossed to the opposite side of the driveway. Pointing toward Martin’s apartment, she said, “See that doorway?”
Adam stood next to her. There was an exterior door to the left of the first garage door.
“That leads to a small foyer. There is also a door that goes to the garage. The stairs to his apartment come off the foyer. We use it as a sort of mudroom. Both of us hang our keys there when we come in. Martin also takes off his shoes and hangs his coat up before going upstairs.” She faced him. “I typically wait to get into the main house to do that.”
“I assume there is access to the main house from that foyer?”
“Yes.” She smiled and looked up at the gray sky. Snow was in the forecast. Again. “I don’t like trying to maneuver down the driveway on ice. I’ve made it sixty-one years without having a broken bone. I’m not getting one by slipping on black ice.”
He smiled and nodded his head in agreement. “As far as you know, did Martin stay in the remainder of the night?”
“As far as I know. He’s usually exhausted after a Saturday night shift, especially if he is running the kitchen on his own. I can’t imagine him going anywhere after he got back.”
“And as far as you know, he was alone.”
“Yes. But as I said, I don’t keep tabs on him. If he had someone with him, I didn’t hear anything.”
“Would you have—if he was making noise?”
“No, there is a door at the top of the stairs into the apartment. Saves me money not heating the stairs.”
If Martin had had Gwen in his apartment, there was a good chance Mrs. Martin would have been clueless. And the ingress and egress was, for all intents and purposes, separate from the main house.
“Was Martin interested in Ms. Tavich romantically?”
“No.”
“You seem sure—”
“He’s in a serious relationship and has been for going on three years.”
“People have been known to cheat—”
“With a very nice young man.”
Ah …
She smiled. “Martin hasn’t had a girlfriend since the seventh grade, when he figured out he was gay and started going out with boys.”
“Okay,” Adam said. “Thanks for your time.”
Martin Griffin had seemed like a long shot when Adam arrived. The fact that he was gay didn’t absolve him of the crime. It just closed the door on Martin killing Gwen over anything amorous. By the time he got in his car to head over to Quentin Novak’s house, Adam was less sure Griffin was a dark horse. Until someone better came along, Martin Griffin was still at the top of the suspect list.
The drive to Novak’s was short. He lived three-quarters of a mile away from Griffin. Farther south of Rocky Mountain Lake Park.
Still, a mile walk was not out of the realm of possibility.
Motive was still the big sticking point for Adam when it came to Novak. There didn’t seem to be one. From what he could gather, Quentin was close to Gwen.
Although, if he had been in love with Kendall … love could make a man do stupid things. Adam had a hard time believing the relationship between Kendall and Novak was anything more than friendship, especially from Kendall’s view. Or had Quentin been romantically interested in Gwen and she shot him down?
Novak was walking down the front path from his house to his car when Adam pulled up behind him.
“Quentin,” Adam said as he got out of the car and walked toward him. “I’m glad I caught you before you left.”
The color drained from his face. “Is something wrong with Kendall?”
“No, she’s fine.”
His shoulders relaxed, and he shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “Then what can I do for you, Detective?”
“I was just driving by—was over at Martin Griffin’s residence, checking some things out. I knew you lived close by, so I thought I would wander over since I was in the area.”
His eyebrows lifted, and his mouth quirked up on one side. “So, am I a suspect?”
Adam grinned. “Everyone’s a suspect.”
“Ah, I see. You’re just going to go through all of the people closest to Gwen and start accusing them? When should I expect to be arrested? Maybe I should put in for vacation time, so I don’t miss work until you discover I’m not the killer. Like Ty.”
Whoa, Novak is a bit touchy.
Adam chuckled. “Yeah, Butler was an unfortunate waste of investigative time, for sure.” Adam wasn’t going to take shit from Novak on how he’d handled the investigation and subsequent arrest of Butler. All the evidence had pointed to him as Gwen’s killer, at the time. “Of course, if he had just come clean about his affair, we could’ve moved on a lot earlier.”
“And when you decide I’m not your man, will you then accuse Kendall?”
Time to set a trap for Novak, see if he bites. “I haven’t decided anything about you. Besides, I don’t think Kendall would kill Gwen.”
