They Sought Vengeance, page 3
So far, as far as Zachary knew, Luke hadn’t gotten back into drugs or the business, but he was back in the party scene, getting away with whatever he could behind Joss’s back. She knew more than Luke realized about his activities. But she wouldn’t kick him out for disobeying her rules, since the only place for him to go would be back to the traffickers he knew.
“How is Aster?” Kenzie asked, recalling Zachary to their conversation. She had clearly been able to see where his mind had gone at her mention of Luke.
“She’s doing okay.” Zachary forced a smile to show that he was pleased with Aster’s progress. It was her confession that had gotten Luke out of jail, and they had all been worried about how the police would treat her, but things had gone well. “Joss got her into a trauma recovery program that seems like a good fit. She’s out of the house, so at least she and Luke aren’t encouraging each other to break the rules now.”
“And how many other trafficking victims is Joss harboring?” Kenzie smiled. Her feelings toward Joss were warmer now that she had found out that acidic, bitter Joss was mothering girls she had managed to get out of the prostitution business, sheltering them until she could get them into safe homes or programs that would help get them back onto a safer path.
“I don’t know,” Zachary admitted. He got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen to join her. “Probably half a dozen, at least.” Zachary had been happy to find out that the police were so familiar with his sister, “the old lady,” not because she was breaking the law, but because she was such a vocal advocate for those victims.
Zachary and Kenzie moved around each other in the kitchen as Kenzie continued to work on the meal and Zachary set the table and got out a pitcher of water and anything else they might need from the fridge. They didn’t talk much while doing it, and it was a good transition from being focused on his computer work and everything that was going on inside his brain to focusing outward on Kenzie.
As Kenzie started to set the serving dishes on the table, Zachary sat down. He stared at the casserole that she had set on the table, trying to decide if he would like it. Kenzie pulled a foil-covered loaf out of the oven and Zachary couldn’t help grinning. No matter what else she served, she knew that he would gobble up the garlic bread. His mouth started to water as she opened the foil wrapper, releasing fragrant steam.
Kenzie sliced the loaf and put it on a plate well within Zachary’s reach. “Now don’t just eat the bread! You need the vitamins in the other foods too.”
“Mmm-hm,” Zachary agreed, the first bite of garlic bread already in his mouth.
Kenzie sat down, smiling in amusement at his greed. “So, tell me about this new case you’re taking on. It’s obviously something that’s caught your attention.”
Zachary nodded. It was a minute before he could speak. “I have to figure out what my rates are going to be. They’re quite wealthy.”
It wasn’t that he wanted to take advantage of their position as much as the fact that it would let him give some of the lower-income clients a bit of a break. He couldn’t drop his rates too low for them if he wanted to put garlic bread on the table but, when people really couldn’t afford his regular rates, it was nice if there was a bit of reserve in the company accounts so that he could still help them out.
Of course, the lion’s share of the household expenses was paid by Kenzie, since it was her house and she was also the one who usually did the shopping. But maybe one day, they would buy a house together, and he would have the money in the bank to help pay for it. He’d never been able to afford anything other than cheap apartments in the past. When he had married Bridget, she had not put up with that for long, insisting that she would pay for a suitable home out of her family money.
“That would be nice,” Kenzie agreed. She was always encouraging him to charge enough for his services, not to sell himself short with cut-rate fees. “What kind of case is it?”
“One that might have come through your office. A Mr. John Godfrey?”
Kenzie considered this, then nodded. “Yeah. I remember him. The family disagrees with our findings?”
“They think that it was murder. That he might have been poisoned.”
Kenzie ate a couple of bites of the casserole. “Hmm. Well, nice if you can get a little extra money out of it. But I wouldn’t expect it to go anywhere.”
“Medical examiner findings can be wrong. Especially if it was poisoning, and the medical examiner didn’t have all the information he needed to find it.”
“That can happen,” Kenzie allowed. “The police investigation didn’t turn up anything significant. He died in his own bed. No signs of violence. Nothing obvious about the body that would suggest poisoning. Why do they think he was poisoned?”
“I need to dig down deeper to find that out. Right now, I think just because it’s the only thing they can think of that wouldn’t have left a mark on the body.”
“There are still options other than poisoning. But that does narrow it down,” she admitted. “No gunshot or stabbing. No blunt force trauma. No needle marks or ligature.”
“Exactly.” Zachary nodded. “And suffocation would leave petechiae, right?”
“Sometimes. Maybe seventy to eighty percent of cases. But not always. And they can be caused by other things. In Godfrey’s case, there were no petechiae that I remember. No signs of violence.”
“Did you find evidence that he had a heart attack in his sleep? Or a stroke? I don’t know what else it could have been, but…”
“They don’t leave much evidence on the body. If we have a patient history, then we can speculate. Mr. Godfrey did have a history of heart disease. He was on several medications for his heart and blood pressure.”
“Do you know which ones?” Zachary reached for his notepad and realized he’d left it beside his computer.
“You’ll need to fill out a request form,” Kenzie informed him with a smile. “See if you can get the medical examiner’s office to release that information to you.”
“I hear it helps if you know someone there.”
She shook her head. “Nope. No special treatment. You’ll have to beg like all of the other poor slobs.”
“The family can request a copy of the Medical Examiner’s report. And they might even still have his medication in the medicine cabinet.”
“Probably. So you won’t need to come to the medical examiner’s office?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
Zachary’s fork slipped and squeaked loudly across the plate, making the moment comedic. He laughed. “Well, maybe I could come visit for lunch one day this week,” he suggested, aware that he was blushing.
Kenzie nodded. “That’s a good idea. Pull me away from my desk one day.” Like Zachary, she tended to get wrapped up in her work and, while she always reminded him that he had to stop to eat lunch, she usually ended up raiding the sandwich vending machine down the hall from her desk, and frequently told him how terrible it was. Still, he could never convince her to take a bag lunch with her.
“Let’s do it,” he agreed. “One day when we both need a break.”
He had a feeling that he would need to enforce breaks from the Godfrey case if he were going to solve it. Walking away and getting a fresh perspective often yielded positive results.
5
Zachary called up Mario Bowman, a friend on the police force, to make inquiries about the Godfrey case.
“Zach, my man,” Mario greeted enthusiastically. “It’s been too long! We need to get together one night for pizza and a game.”
That had been the promise when Zachary had moved out of Mario’s apartment and into his own. Mario had given him a place to crash after Zachary’s apartment had been set on fire, and it had stretched from “a few days” to a few months as Zachary had been required to replace all of his ID before he could access his bank account and file an insurance claim before he was able to start looking for a new place. They had gotten along well together, and Zachary had said that they would get together again after he left, but that time was always in the future.
“Yeah. We should. We’re always saying we’re going to, but why not pick a day? Actually set it up.”
“That would be great,” Mario agreed, sounding surprised at the suggestion. Maybe he had expected Zachary to brush it off again, as he usually did, with a vague promise to get back to him someday. “When are you free?”
“Why not… Friday night? I think I can manage that, and it’s enough time that I can let Kenzie know and maybe she’ll want to get together with some of her friends.”
“She would be welcome to come along.” There was doubt in Mario’s voice. Whether he thought Kenzie wouldn’t want to do something separately, or he only wanted it to be a “guys’ night,” Zachary wasn’t sure.
“No. She likes you, but not that much,” Zachary teased.
Mario laughed. “Okay, then. Friday. Awesome.”
“And the pizza is my treat.” Zachary raised his voice and talked over any objection Mario might raise. “I have to find some way to pay you back for everything you did for me.”
Mario chuckled and didn’t argue it further. “So, what are you calling me about, Zach? I’m sure you didn’t call just to set up a pizza night.”
“I was looking for some information, and seeing as you are the fount of all wisdom…”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“I am looking for the detective who was in charge of the John Godfrey case.”
“Uh-oh, does that mean you’re going to be making waves around here again? Let me look…” There was the rattle of computer keys as Mario navigated the internal system. “That would be the fetching Detective El Garcia.”
“Garcia?” Zachary scratched the name down, though he was sure he was probably spelling it wrong. “Okay, great. Does she have a direct line?”
Mario recited it to him. “I’ll put you through.”
“Uh…” Zachary wasn’t sure what to say. The other part of the information that Mario usually provided was how Zachary could best get the information he needed. A nice bottle of wine or hockey tickets could go a long way to ensuring that the law enforcement officers he talked to felt well-disposed toward him and would give him any answers they could. “What’s she like?”
“She’s a tough cop, but fair,” Mario said. “I know that’s what you hear about all cops, because no one wants to tell you that he’s a wuss or she couldn’t care less about what’s just and right. But Garcia really is. I’ve seen her in action and she’s not afraid to do what needs to be done. Smart and organized. Good interrogator; people want to talk to her and please her. Gorgeous woman—very intimidating when she puts on her tough face. But she’s a sucker for kids or old abuelas. Those hard-luck cases get her every time.”
Zachary nodded, pleased to have the warning and the insight. He would be prepared for her intimidating front and know how to handle her approach to the investigation. “Got it. You can put me through.”
Mario chuckled, and Zachary heard the phone start ringing again. He wondered whether it would go through to voicemail. Not that it mattered; he could just leave her a message. He wasn’t expecting her to help him.
“Garcia.” The sudden voice in his ear made him jump.
“Oh. Hi, Detective Garcia, my name is Zachary Goldman, and I’m a private investigator—”
“I don’t deal with private investigators.”
“No, I realize that. I’m just calling you to let you know that the Godfrey family has asked me to consult on their father’s death.”
“Consult? In what way?”
“To investigate privately to see if there is any indication that it was not a natural death. If it was poison or some other method of homicide.”
“The ME has already ruled.”
“We’ll be requesting a copy of the ME’s findings, see if there’s anything that we can provide more enlightenment on. I don’t expect to be able to come up with anything that would make the Medical Examiner change his opinion, but… well, we need to cover all of the bases.”
“You’re not going to find anything.”
“That’s fine. I’m being retained to look. If there’s nothing to find, there’s nothing to find.”
“You just saw a big fat sitting duck and figured you had to have a piece, huh?”
“No. They approached me. I’ve already told them it’s a long shot. But if they want me to look at it, I’ll look at it.”
“So what do you want from me?” her tone was bullish.
“I don’t want anything from you, Detective. It’s a courtesy call. I’m just letting you know that I’m working on the case, so if you hear my name or hear that someone is asking questions, you’ll know what’s going on. If you’d like to tell me anything about the case, I’d be happy to hear it, but that’s not why I’m calling. I just don’t want to step on anyone’s toes or be mistaken for a suspect.”
“The police don’t share information with private investigators, no matter how polite they are.” The last bit was spoken with a sigh and a more relaxed tone.
“No. Though it doesn’t sound like there would be much to share anyway. You just did a cursory scene review? Didn’t find anything unusual or suspicious?”
“I did more than just look at the site.”
Zachary made an encouraging noise and didn’t say anything.
“We talked to the family. They didn’t raise any concerns. They were surprised, but there wasn’t any talk about it being a poisoning. There was no sign of violence. The ME said that it was natural causes. The victim had heart problems. He was on medication.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“What makes the family think that it was homicide now? Why didn’t they bring this up before?”
“I suspect… they were too shocked initially and didn’t want to raise any suspicions. But they have been talking to each other… and they each think that one of the others did it.”
“They think that it was someone in the family?” Garcia’s voice grew somewhat shriller. “They think that one of them did it, and they hired you to find out?”
“Yes. They know that they all had motives to kill him. Money, mostly, from what I can gather, but maybe also some emotional abuse as well. So they are all looking at each other suspiciously.”
“Well, I hope you have a bulletproof vest, amigo, because I wouldn’t want to be stepping between two members of the family accusing each other of murder, if I was you.”
“They didn’t shoot him,” Zachary pointed out, “but maybe I shouldn’t accept any drinks from them.”
Garcia laughed. “You might want to consider that,” she agreed. “As long as you’re not getting in my way or demanding private information I can’t give you, you can ‘investigate’ to your heart’s content. Just stay out of my way.”
6
The Godfrey mansion looked like something out of a fairy tale or Victorian novel. The big house stood in the middle of a lush emerald green lawn, several inches deep and perfectly maintained, and a wide variety of bushes and trees surrounded the house with various rich shades of green and the fragrant smell of ripening fruit. A spotless white porch wrapped around the building. There were several smaller outbuildings. Garage, shed, servant’s quarters, perhaps. Maybe a guest house or two.
Zachary got out of his car and just stood there for a moment, taking it all in. He was a photographer at heart, and he immediately reached for the camera around his neck and began snapping pictures of it without even thinking about it. The beautiful house with windows glinting in the sun, the mature peach and plum trees, colorful flowers planted in borders, and not a single brown or withered leaf or deadhead that Zachary could see. A gentle breeze stirred the grass and birdsong filled the air.
He shot a short video, panning over the scene and catching a few birds in flight.
“Excuse me! Just who do you think you are?” A man had come out from the side of the house where he had not been visible to Zachary and was striding toward him. “What are you doing here?”
Zachary dropped the camera, letting it bounce against his chest. “I’m sorry. Zachary Goldman. Private Investigator with Goldman Investigations.” He held out his hand to shake, exuding as much confidence in his position as he could. “And you are…”
He thought that the young man might be one of the gardeners. He was dressed in a white polo shirt and khakis, which Zachary imagined might be an appropriate uniform for a gardener on the Godfrey estate. He was a young man, not particularly attractive. He had a long, oval face and black-framed glasses. His nose was a bit too long, and he didn’t appear to have shaved the last few days.
“Logan Godfrey,” the young man snapped. “You’re the private investigator that Karen hired? I thought you would be more…” Logan looked Zachary over, evaluating him as Zachary had just done. “I don’t know. Bigger. In better shape. More like the private eyes you see on TV.” He made a show of looking Zachary all over. “I can’t even see where you have your gun hidden.”
“I don’t have a gun. In real life, private investigators are… pretty boring. We’re not all those hard-drinking, hair-trigger, womanizing private dicks you see on TV.”
Logan grinned and shook his head. “Too bad. I was hoping for some adventure. Well,” he made a motion toward the front door. “Come in, I guess. Unless you want to look around some more outside.”
“Is there anything else I should see out here? Anything I should be aware of?”
Logan shrugged and shook his head. “How would I know? I just live here.”
He went to the door and opened it for Zachary, gesturing again for him to enter. “Go on, no need to block the doorway.”
Zachary stepped into the mansion and looked around slowly. He had been in fancy houses before. Bridget had dragged him off to countless dinner parties and other occasions at the homes of her friends. And the house that Gordon had provided her with probably cost more than Zachary would make in his lifetime. So he was somewhat prepared for what he would see in the Godfrey mansion.
