Quandary: A Detective Series, page 15
CHAPTER 35
Sitting between them put Karen at ease. It’s what Carla wanted so that she would open up more about Joni and Chase. After about thirty minutes and three glasses of tea, bittersweet tears flowed from Karen. Reliving her daughter’s short life through pictures touched everyone. Noticing all the empty glasses, Karen gathered them up and headed for the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned with the glasses full of ice. Replenishing each glass, she picked up the scrapbook and returned it to the bookcase. Pulling out another one, she returned to her lounger. While sitting with it on her lap, she dried the remnants of sadness off her cheeks. As her eyes met the seriousness in Carla’s determined eyes, she continued, “Now, what do you want to know about Chase?”
“First of all, thank you for sharing Joni’s life with us. She was a beautiful child, just like her mother. I’m truly sorry that you didn’t get to spend more time with her. But I’m sure raising Chase you got to see parts of her in him helping you cope with your loss.”
“Umm, yeah, it did make it easier for me. However, she was a daddy’s girl. Not sure George ever got over losing her. I know I haven’t.”
“I see. When you are ready, tell us about Chase, okay?”
Rising out of the lounger, she joined them on the sofa, placing the scrapbook on the coffee table. Opening it up, an innocent newborn picture of Chase began to tell the story of his young life. While leafing through the pages, her heartstrings began to describe her experience of raising him. After flipping the last page over, the innocent newborn pictured on the first page morphed into a handsome young man receiving his high school diploma. Karen’s southern sweet tea had run its course. Rising off the sofa, she returned the scrapbook to the bookcase. Instead of sitting in her lounge chair, she gathered up the glasses and an empty pitcher of tea, placed them on the old-fashioned tray, and returned to the kitchen.
“Let’s get to Chase. I’m getting kind of hungry.”
“Listen, dickhead, all of this was to get her prepared to open up about him, and it’s working. Just keep your pants on while I handle it, okay?”
He reluctantly nodded as Karen returned from the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches. Putting them down on the coffee table, she returned to the kitchen. A couple of minutes later, she returned with another tray containing a new pitcher of tea and three glasses of ice. Taking one of the sandwich plates and a glass of tea, she placed them on the table beside the lounger and sat down.
“You two, grab a sandwich and eat while I answer your questions about Chase, okay?”
“You didn’t have to do this, you know?”
“Yeah, but I made a fresh batch of my southern pimento cheese spread, and it’s too much for me to eat, so enjoy. Now, what do you want to know about Chase?”
“The last picture you showed us was at his high school graduation. What did he do after that?”
“As I said earlier, he was a natural athlete and received a scholarship to play baseball at a small college here in Tennessee. After he graduated from college, he said he wanted to travel out west for some reason. He ended up in Oregon. I think Portland. He said he would fit in better there.”
“What do you mean?”
“Joni, if she were alive, would have never thought her son would be different.”
“Karen, do you mean gay?” As she nodded, her eyes glistened. She wiped the disappointment off her cheeks. “Okay, go on.”
As more tears flowed, she wiped them away. “That’s it, he stayed out there, hardly ever came home. We’d talk occasionally, but he wanted to live his life on his terms.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hmm, that’s okay. Chase did make it home before George died. They spent a lot of time talking, not sure what they discussed. Anyway, he brought a friend with him, he was older, but Chase didn’t care. I assumed they were a couple. He got a little testy with me when I made them sleep in separate bedrooms. Guess I’m old fashioned, just didn’t seem right.”
Pulling out her smartphone, Carla pulled up the picture of Parker Jarrell. “The other man, could this be him?” Taking Carla’s phone, she studied it and returned it.
“Hmm, maybe it’s hard to tell with the beard.”
“Why is that?”
“Chase’s friend didn’t have one, but the eyes and nose look the same.”
“What kind of car did they come in?”
“Just like mine.”
“When they left, do you know where they were going?”
“Didn’t say. Why do you ask?”
Pulling up another picture on her smartphone, she handed it to her. While studying it very closely, a tear surfaced in the corner of her eye. Wiping it away, she gave the phone back to Carla.
“Karen, is that Chase?” Seeing his picture on a police detective’s phone made her uneasy and speechless, and she just nodded. “Okay, do you know how Chase and…”
“Parker Jarrell was his name.”
“So, how did they meet?”
“Chase said they met at a rehab house somewhere in Missouri. I believe he said it was called The Last Chance. I don’t know how they got there. I asked, and Chase pretty much said it wasn’t any of my business.”
“Why is your house up for sale?”
Surprised, her eyes glistened once more, wiping the tears away. She took a deep breath and a long drink of sweet tea. Finally, making eye contact again with Carla, she replied, “I don’t have any choice, can’t make the payments anymore. Social Security checks barely cover the necessities.”
“I don’t understand. You lived here for over thirty-five years, wouldn’t your house…be?”
“You don’t understand. George was not the best money manager and took out a second mortgage. He was a heavy drinker, gambled, and spent the extra money foolishly.”
“Extra money, where did it come from?”
“George said it was none of my business and told me not to worry about it. Whenever I would bring it up, he’d get mean, never hit me or anything like that, just mean, he was a mean drunk.”
“How long has the money been coming?”
“Hmm, I believe the first check came right after we moved.”
“Really, for over thirty-five years, hmm.”
Nodding, Karen continued, “Then it came every month after that. After George passed, the checks stopped. No explanation, no notification. I just don’t get it.”
“Do you have something you can show us, maybe tell us who sent them?”
Rising from the lounger, she went over to an old-fashioned rolltop desk, pulled open a drawer, and grabbed a white envelope. Walking back, she handed it to Carla. After looking at the return address, a scowl crossed her face. Giving it to Bernie, he shook his head.
“Keep it. Maybe you can find out what is going on, why the checks stopped. Anything you can do that will help me stay in this house is appreciated.”
“Of course, but it’s not much to go on. Would you have a copy of the check?” Shaking her head. “Okay, what about a bank statement? It might show the name.”
“I’ll have to find them. I still have to go through George’s stuff, and that will take some time.”
“Okay, you can look after we leave. Call us if you get a name, okay? Now, you said earlier that Chase talked with George a lot. Any ideas on what they talked about?”
“Nah, all I know is the last time before George died, Chase came out of his bedroom with fire in his eyes. I heard him mumble something under his breath like I’ll take care of it, or something like that. George died later that evening. After the funeral, they left the next day. I haven’t heard from him since. Is he in any trouble?”
Glancing at her phone several times, Carla knew it was time to head back to Oakmont. Karen got out of her lounger and took the tray containing the plates and empty glasses to the kitchen. She returned with two large Styrofoam cups filled with her southern sweet tea.
“I see you need to leave. Here’s something for the road.” Handing the tea to them, they walked toward the door. Opening the door, Carla turned around, seeing a woman wondering what was next for her and her only grandson. “Detectives, if you find him, please let me know, okay?”
“Of course, thank you for being so open. You take care, now.”
CHAPTER 36
Returning to the police station, Carla and Bernie sat at their workstation wondering about the checks. They knew a standard white business envelope with a post office box wasn’t much help. Tracking down the owner in Charleston, West Virginia, was a difficult problem and would take time. Maybe time they didn’t have if any of the other city commissioners were in danger.
While glancing at Carla and Bernie, frustration met Beth’s curious eyes. Silence flowed back and forth until Beth commented, “Rough trip?”
With a scowling expression, Bernie replied, “I’d say it was more like a frustrating one, right, Carla?”
“Yeah, we found out that Colt Lassiter is Chase because he brought his partner, Parker Jarrell, home for his grandfather’s funeral. Given that premise, Parker Jarrell is Lenny Clark.”
“How did they meet?”
“Drug rehab and halfway house in Missouri.”
“All of that’s good news, right? So, why the gloomy disposition?”
Bernie replied, “George and Karen Ballard had received a monthly check from someone ever since they left Oakmont, some thirty-five years ago. All we have is a standard business-size envelope with a post office box number as a return address in Charleston, West Virginia. Nothing else.”
“Okay, I know the owner of post office boxes is hard to track down, but you said had?”
“Yeah, I did. Hmm, the checks stopped coming about a month after George died. And complicating matters, Karen may be tossed out on the street. She had to put her house up for sale to make ends meet.”
“Umm, that’s terrible. You know, maybe it’s not a coincidence that Walters’ death occurred right after George died and the checks stopped.”
Carla chimed in, “Sort of, maybe they are tied together, but why? We’ve got a post office box that may hold the answers to all our questions. Anyway, anything new with you?”
“Nah, just waiting for the DNA results like everyone else is. I checked with Sherry. She’s hoping we’ll have them tomorrow. I’m waiting for a call back from the insurance company that paid the settlement to Clarissa. How about you guys? What’s your next move?”
“Bernie will contact the rehab house in Missouri where Lenny and Chase met. Maybe we get lucky, talk to someone that remembered them. I’m going to try to find the owner of the post office box.”
“Good luck with that, Carla. While I’m waiting for the insurance company to return my call, I’m revisiting Clarissa. She has been lying all along about knowing Bortel.”
“Yeah, Beth, we could all use some good luck, right, Bernie?”
As Bernie nodded, Beth left, heading to see Clarissa while her cohorts tackled their respective assignments. Dialing the phone number for The Last Chance rehab and halfway house in Missouri, Bernie listened to annoying menu options on the other end. Deciding none of them fit his purpose, he pushed zero.
As he waited for the person to pick up his call, Carla’s smartphone rang. Answering it, she threw Bernie a crooked smile. Jotting down some information, she gave Bernie a thumbs-up gesture. Ending the call, she put her smartphone on her desk and turned her attention to Bernie, still on hold.
Finally, a smile crossed Bernie’s face, and he spoke. Carla gave him the signal to place the call on speaker so that she could listen in. Instantly, Carla heard a woman’s voice while Bernie put two fingers to his lips, hushing her.
“Miss Jacobi, I’m Detective Bernie Kowalski with the Oakmont Police Department in Kentucky. I’m trying to find someone that can tell me about two men that were there for treatment.”
“Detective, you know that is confidential information.” Silence met her ear. “Anything else I may help you with?”
“Well, if you change your mind, give me a call.”
An annoying dial tone filled their workspace for a few seconds, and then silence took over. Bernie knew finding information would be difficult where privacy concerns were paramount everywhere.
“Carla, who called you?”
“Karen, the envelope belongs to an accounting firm, Capital City Accounting in Charleston, West Virginia. That’s all that was on a check stub she found in an old shoebox George had hidden in a closet. We will see where that leads us.”
The remainder of the day, they reviewed Bernie’s notes from their visit with Karen. They knew it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the monthly payments had to be hush money or blackmail. Furthermore, why it had gone on for thirty-five years might be the key to cracking this case. The big clock on the wall was pushing five o’clock, almost quitting time.
“Hey, partner, you want to get a drink?”
“Only if you are buying, Bernie.” A thumbs-up gesture met her smile. As they were walking out of the police station, Carla’s smartphone rang.
“Hey, Beth, why don’t you join us at McGruder’s, then you can tell us what you found out from revisiting Clarissa?”
Fifteen minutes later, Beth joined them in their favorite booth. Carla had already ordered drinks and munchies. After sliding in beside Carla, Sam arrived with their drinks and assorted munchies. All were holding their glasses up, and a well-deserved cheer filled the booth. Christening it, each savored their adult beverage—Pinot Grigio for Beth, Jameson for Carla, and a Yuengling for Bernie. As all eyes moved around the booth, Beth could see she had the floor.
“Okay, guys, Clarissa opened up about her relationship with Bortel. They had been a couple for a long time. She even had a brief fling while working on her husband’s charity event. Not to bore you with every little detail, she chose Oakmont because of her relationship with him. Anyway, it’s kind of funny. She hasn’t shown any remorse about his death. Something happened in their relationship. Maybe when I hear from the insurance company, we’ll know more. How about you two?”
“Bernie struck out, but I got the name of the company that sent the checks to George. Let’s hope tomorrow we get a real break.”
Glasses met in the middle of the table as another cheer set the tone for another round of drinks. The evening flew by, and with drinks finished, each went home to the love of their life.
CHAPTER 37
The most powerful lawyer in Oakmont, Barry Stewart, began his day by working out in his home gym. After he finished and showered, a light breakfast with his wife, Lynda, would put him in the best frame of mind to begin his day. Having the premier law firm in town, his leadership on the city commission was also instrumental in bringing high-profile companies to the Oakmont Industrial Complex.
He was a blessed man for many reasons. His father, Harry, started the firm over thirty-five years ago. In many ways, Barry’s dad paved the way for his success. Harry was once a city commissioner helping shape Oakmont into the city it is today. He was well respected back in the day. He built his firm based on honesty, integrity, and fairness and expected his son to follow those attributes. Anything different would be an embarrassment to the family name.
Barry was a gifted individual and a natural athlete. Playing all sports as a teenager, he was best suited for baseball. With his blazing speed, he could steal any base. Out of his centerfield position, he could run down any fly ball. An excellent hitter, he could handle any pitch with power. Professional scouts were drooling over his potential. He had numerous college scholarship offers to consider, as well. He had his whole life in front of him if he didn’t screw it up.
Like Philip Devaney, Barry knew a professional contract was exciting and enticing. Anyone that was any good in baseball dreamed of making it to the big leagues. He was no different. During his senior year, the Cleveland Indians were chomping at the bits to draft him. Harry Stewart was very proud of his son’s athletic accomplishments. However, he wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, and he continuously reminded him of that.
Ultimately, Barry decided that being a lawyer was his calling and chose to attend the University of Kentucky on a full baseball scholarship. After a stellar baseball career with the Wildcats, the University of Kentucky Law School accepted him. He would follow in his father’s footsteps making his dad proud.
After graduating and passing the bar exam, he joined his father’s firm and worked his way up the chain, eventually becoming a full partner.
Harry Stewart was a gentleman and a very generous man. However, making money was more important to Barry, and he and his father often argued over his generosity. After his father’s passing several months ago, Barry took over the firm and hired an independent accounting firm to audit the company. He wanted to make the company lean and mean. Recommendations were made to reduce unnecessary expenses and operating overhead. He implemented those recommendations, and immediately, profit increased, and life was good.
Today, he was hoping to land a big job representing a new industrial firm moving to Oakmont. Securing it would take his business to a whole new level. After a healthy breakfast, he was energized and confident he would be successful. Kissing his wife goodbye, he entered his detached garage looking at his options for his commute today.
Sporting a black suit, white shirt, and a red tie, he felt powerful and chose the black Cadillac Escalade. Backing out of the garage, he maneuvered the exquisite and luxurious machine down the driveway. Turning left, his SUV commanded the street in his upper-class subdivision.
Passing through the security gate, he turned left onto the by-pass toward Oakmont. Enjoying this pleasant November morning, he listened to public radio. He felt it was essential to stay informed about the state, national, and worldly news. While glancing in his driver’s side mirror, the car behind him looked familiar.
