5 Alive After Friday (11 page)

T
he
last published address for Gail Cramer Holman was a few miles north of West
Palm in Palm Beach Gardens. According to her brother, she was the one who best knew
what was happening in the Myra-Boyd saga. Sandy grabbed a quick sandwich at the
Dunkin’ Donuts strategically located across the street from the West Palm
police station, and then followed her GPS back up I-95 looking for Gail’s old
address.

The night before, she’d followed Ryan from his
office to Gail’s new address in a fancy high-rise condominium near the ocean. Since
the records hadn’t been updated, a search of all available databases for the
sister listed the old Palm Beach Gardens address.

The old address was fine with Sandy. It’s
difficult to get information on someone living in a large condominium because
of the security. Even if she succeeded in getting inside, she couldn’t roam
around doing a “knock ‘n talk” as cops would say. The neighbors at the old
address would be much more likely to dish up some dirt on Gail especially since
she had moved on and they likely would never see her again.

The sister had positioned herself between wimpy Ryan
and his cheating wife. Apparently, Myra just had to tell someone and would favor
Gail with the hot details of her energized sex life. Sandy hoped that somewhere
among all the accounts of heavy breathing, Gail had picked up some useful
information about Boyd and money.

The old address was far from the ocean and west of
I-95. It turned out to be an older ten-unit apartment strip arranged in a semi-circle.
The front entrances of all the one-story apartments faced a large grassy area,
minimally landscaped with two lonely sabal palms enclosed by a curving sidewalk.
The hot noon air was moist with not enough breeze to even ruffle the palms.

Obviously, Gail had made a dramatic change in
lifestyle by stepping up to a near-the-ocean condo. What did the woman do for a
living? Where did the sudden money come from?

Sandy’s phone rang just as she knocked on the
first door. Detective Jaworski began talking in her ear at the same time the
door opened. A barefooted, clean-shaven, older man, wearing walking shorts and
an open short-sleeved shirt waved at her as though he’d known her all his life
and was welcoming her back home. He held the door open. “Glad you made it. Come
on in.”

She took a step back. “I’m investigating a murder.”
She held up a halting forefinger, “Can you wait...go ahead Eddy.

Jaworski relayed the news: the victim was Myra
Cramer, shot to death in her home last night. Someone turned her house inside
out and there appeared to be a struggle. The police surmised the victim had
interrupted someone searching her house.

“Geez, it was Myra huh? Damn, damn. Any word on
Martin...ok, I’ll have to call you back.” The man in the doorway had put on
sandals and buttoned up his shirt while she was speaking.

When she hung up the man said, “Well, aren’t you
pretty? I’ll give you some candy if you’ll come inside.” His expression became
stern and he wagged his finger at her. “Remember, young lady, never enter a
strange man’s house unless he offers you candy.”

That earned him a smile. Either he was daffy or clever.
She’d go with clever. At least he appeared normal enough to hear the truth. “I’m
investigating the murder of a woman...the sister-in-law of Gail Holman.”

“Her dog made a lot of noise, so what was I to do?”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, but they both had to go. You can come in and beat a confession
out of me, if you want. I have a real cool leather whip. Almost new. I use it
only on weekends. How do feel about eight-inch heels?”

“I’ll hold off on the flogging, if you’ll come
clean.”

“Seriously, why don’t you come in? It’ll drive my
neighbors bonkers.”

“Thanks, but it might affect your reputation.”

“Hey, at my age, I can use all the reputation I
can get. Now tell me about the murder and why such a nice girl is saying, damn,
damn on the phone.” He looked at his watch. “I can spare five minutes before my
next nap.”

“Did you know Gail Holman, lived two doors down?”

He knew the name. Saw her around. Got some of her
mail one time by mistake. Didn’t know anything about her. He told Sandy who
would know, the designated busybody two doors on the other side of Gail’s old
apartment. “She runs a gossip blog in her head. If you find out anything juicy,
hurry back here. And be careful you wouldn’t believe some of the weird people
around here.”

The woman he directed her to was elderly,
reasonably normal and happy to have a visitor. Yes, Gail Holman was in her late
thirties, unmarried with one marriage behind her. Didn’t take a stick of her
furniture with her, just left it behind. Said her uncle died and left her some
money. Yes, there had been several men in Gail’s life over the previous three
years. A couple of them would stay half the night. The younger one was the only
one that seemed right for her, other than being married.

“The younger one?” Sandy quickly showed her the
license picture of Cal Boyd.

The woman shook her head. No, much better looking.
He’d pick her up in a different flashy car each time, the woman continued.
Brought her home late, romp around a bit, but never stayed over. No, never
heard his name. But he was definitely married, that much was certain.”

One hour, two slammed doors and a delightful iced
tea with carrot cake later, she gained a head full of mostly useless
information, except that Gail Holman worked at the Concierge desk at the
Gardens Mall in Palm Beach Gardens. No one knew the name of her married
boyfriend.

Sandy went back and sat in her car thinking. So, it
was Myra, the cheating wife, who had been murdered. What did that mean? Was she
in fact Jane and now dead? She wondered about the time of the murder. She’d
followed Ryan to Gail’s new condo last night and sat there in her car working
with her tablet until eight. They were still there, as far as she knew, when
she left and went over to the Marriott. Did the murder occur before that? Maybe
Sandy would turn out to be someone’s alibi.

She tried to phone Martin—still no answer. She tried
West Palm Police Detective Dominic. Not available. She left a voice message saying
she had valuable information about the Cramer murder. Please call.

She started her car, then turned it off, walked
back to the comedian at the first door and knocked. He held the door open for
her saying, “I’ll show you my cute little puppy, if you’ll come in.”

“Maybe next time. I’ve a question for you and need
an answer only a guy can give. Mrs. Whatshername, the woman you sent me down to
see, said Gail Holman had a boyfriend that always showed up driving a different
flashy car each time. Did you happen to notice him and his cars? Do you suppose
he owns a bunch of cars, or maybe she’s wrong and he has only two cars, or something?
What’s that all about?”

“He has a lot of cars.”

“So, what’s with him?”

“I just told you. He has a lot of cars. Get it? He
has a car lot. A-lot-of-cars. He’s a used car dealer.”

“How do you know that?”

“He saw me outside one day and tried to sell me
one. Nice looking chap. I have his business card somewhere. Say, why don’t you
take me home with you? You could tell me all about the murder. I don’t have to
be back until October.”

“I can’t. You know how it is, being a secret
agent.”

“I understand, if you told me you’d have to kill
me. Wait here. I’ll go get the guy’s card.” He came back after a minute and
handed her the card. “Remember to swallow this, if you’re captured.”

She reached out and patted him on the cheek. “Thanks
sweetheart. You’ve been a big help. Have a happy life.” He didn’t seem to need
much cheering up. As she got into her car, she turned and waved to the old gent
again. He’d given her a couple of chuckles, and the business card definitely
made the excursion successful.

She still needed to talk to sister Gail in person—the
mall concierge worker with all the sudden money. Her phone buzzed while she was
walking back to her car. The woman said, “This is Sergeant Swanson, West Palm
police—Detective Dominic is in the office now, if you still want to meet with
him.”

A
n
hour later, with her visitor’s pass pinned on, Sandy was escorted to the third
floor cubicle of West Palm Beach Police Detective Sergeant Walter Dominic. Jaworski
in Park Beach had phoned and told her it was Myra Cramer who had been murdered.
She wanted to learn more about that; assuming, of course, that this Detective
Dominic would even speak with her.

Her first goal was to find out what the West Palm
police had done with Martin and be certain he was all right. That goal was easily
reached, for when she got off the elevator she saw Martin sitting outside the
cubicle. He wasn’t much for hugs, but she gave him one anyway. “That’s for not
getting arrested.”

“No, they didn’t arrest me, yet it took them
forever to get around to listening to me. They still have my phone. I couldn’t
call you.”

“So you’re okay?”

“Getting a bit hungry, that’s all. All I’ve had is
a handful of peanuts from the vending machine and a dreadful coffee from
Sergeant Swanson over there. I believe she likes me, or I wouldn’t have received
that.”

“So, what happened this morning?”

“You mean other than parking next door to a dead
body? Anyway, I didn’t belong in the neighborhood. With a murder scene next
door, the officer would have been derelict
not
to hold me for
questioning. The cuffs came off after they checked with Jaworski. I didn’t know
your number without my phone. I trust you weren’t too worried about me.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Oh my gosh. In all the excitement, I forgot my
car is still parked on the street in front of the crime scene, probably wrapped
in yellow tape. You need to take me back over there. I’ve already met Detective
Dominic. We were waiting for you.”

The detective stepped out of his cubicle, walking
with just a slight bit of cop swagger and brusquely introduced himself. Black
T-shirt and jeans. Looking beyond him, she saw a brown leather sport coat
hanging in his office. At first, his appearance slightly fazed her. The
detective wasn’t a twin of Chip’s, but could pass for his brother. Of course,
many cops are trim six-footers. “Are you an ex-marine, by any chance?” she
asked.

He nodded. “Special Forces. Things are a little
busy around here can we get on with it? Mr. Bronner, we located your phone. An
officer turned it into the property room as evidence by mistake. You can go
down there and get it anytime. We never examined it or turned it on, so I hope
you’re not going to sue us for touching it. Just a mistake. We towed your vehicle
to the police pound to get it away from the crime scene area. I trust that was
okay. I doubt if they scratched it, I know we never searched it. I’ll give you
directions out to the pound.” He glanced over at Sandy. “So we’ll take it from
here. Have a nice day.”

Dominic made a half-wave goodbye with a half-smile
and stepped back into his cubicle.

Sandy ignored his farewell and followed him. “Thanks,
I know we can help each other”

The detective turned around to face her. “Stop
right there. Why are you two down here?”

Martin answered, “We’re the victims of extortion
in Park Beach.”

“Well, I’m sorry about that. But I suggest you get
an attorney or leave it all to the authorities.”

“We’re lawyers and have useful information for you,”
she began. “We were checking out your victim, Myra Cramer, thinking she might
be in on the Park Beach kidnapping and extortion—”

Martin interrupted, “Her neighbor down here said, Myra
Cramer had been spending a ton of money.”

She quickly continued, “I talked to her husband
and he confirmed her heavy spending. So all that added to our suspicions that
she was spending the extorted money.”

The detective was now standing behind his desk. He
was a busy cop with a fresh homicide on his mind. He wasn’t going to sit
because then they would sit, and he wanted them out of there. “Well, you’ve a
good start on a blind alley. The money is the only thing we’re sure about right
now and it’s not as intriguing as you believe. The victim had been under
investigation for three months.”

“She was?” Sandy’s eyes widened. She took one of
the chairs in front of his desk and Martin joined her.

“I can tell you this much—and I don’t want it in
the papers.” He shrugged and sat down. “She’s been embezzling from her
employer. Auditors for Bristol Trucking, that’s where she worked, discovered
serious bookkeeping irregularities. Thirty grand or so is missing. When she
didn’t show up for work, the white-collar crime unit implemented a search
warrant. They entered her house to look for evidence and the money, found her
shot dead and her house tossed.”

“Appears we’re on the wrong track with Myra.”
Martin wasn’t pleased with that development. “Perhaps she’s been throwing
around embezzled money, not extorted money. And that would eliminate her as
Jane.”

“Jane?” The detective looked at him and then her.

“Jane Doe, the unknown mastermind in our extortion
case,” she said.

“At this point Sandy, you should explain about her
partner in crime, Dick...I mean Boyd.”

“Back before he took part in the extortion,” she
explained, “Boyd started working at Bristol Trucking where he met Myra. She
flipped over him and I believe spent a bundle to keep him interested in her,
which might explain why she started embezzling.”

“Boyd?” The detective said without looking up; his
attention had drifted to the case file open on his desk.

“Calvin Boyd. Untwirl your eyes and listen for a
second.” She waited until she got his attention. “Except he was shot dead by an
unknown person up in Park Beach after the money-drop and never made it out of
the park with the money. We’re looking for the money, trying to find Jane and
trying to solve that murder up there.”

“
You’re
looking...
you’re
trying to
solve. I can’t believe I’m sitting here listening to this.”

“Detective Jaworski, Park Beach police, is in
charge of the Boyd murder investigation. We’re not connected with the police up
there at all.” She threw a quick glance over at Martin.

Dominic wrote the name down and said, “That must
be a relief to them.”

She ignored the detective. “Anyway, this new
embezzlement angle has set us back. When we were able to connect Boyd to Myra
we started figuring maybe she was Jane, since she was spending a lot of money.”
She wasn’t connecting with him; her words were meaningless to him. “From what
you just said maybe it was embezzled money she was spending.”

“Imagine that. An embezzler is spending embezzled
money.” He looked at his watch and abruptly stood behind his desk.

She pressed on, “So, Myra Cramer isn’t Jane and isn’t
connected to the extortion except that she met Boyd at Bristol. But now I’m
guessing someone who
thought
she was connected shot her and searched her
house for the four hundred grand.”

“Back up.” The detective had started listening.
Now she was talking about his case. “Searched her house for what four hundred
grand?”

“Four hundred thousand was the extorted amount up
in Park Beach.”

The detective said, “We considered the possibility
someone tossed her house to find the
embezzled
money, was interrupted by
the victim and shot her.”

She said, “But the embezzlement wasn’t made
public, so why would her house be ransacked looking for it? Now four hundred
grand is worth searching for and is a good reason for murder.”

The detective raised his eyebrows admitting it was
a good point. “In any case, I feel you’re jumping ahead. You’re just trying to
link our murder with your case up in Park Beach.”

“Ya think?”

The detective narrowed his eyes at her. “Did the
victim’s husband know she was cheating?”

“Definitely. I interviewed him. I’ll give you a
statement if you like.”

“Okay, but from now on I don’t want you near the
husbands. You got that? He’s now at the top of my suspect list. He could have
gone up to Park Beach, shot his wife’s lover, come back here and whacked his
wife. So, there’s the motive even without any four hundred G’s tossed in.”

Martin jumped at that, “If the motive were a
jealous husband, then why was the house searched?”

Dominic didn’t answer.

Sandy didn’t feel he was getting it. “How can you discount
the victim’s boyfriend? Aren’t you interested in how he fits into the murder?”

“If whatshisname, Boyd, was already dead at the
time of the murder, he’s not the perp. Her husband most likely plugged her.”

“Of course, someone other than Boyd killed Myra, but
her husband is a pussycat. I’ve talked with him. I don’t believe he’d shoot his
wife. Your case is connected to my case.”

“I’m not really concerned with your guesses about him
or anybody. Does that surprise you? Let me get this straight. You say Detective
Jaworski is on the Boyd murder up there, okay. But you mentioned kidnapping and
extortion. Why isn’t the FBI handling that? Why are you screwing with it?”

“Well, they’re doing their thing, and I’m doing
mine. I was the one abducted and Dick and Jane have extorted our money. The
more the FBI gets involved the more I get pushed out.”

“Why don’t you come over and sit here behind my
desk and listen to how crazy that sounds. If I assist you in doing
your
thing
, I’m also going around the FBI who I really don’t care to piss off. No
way am I putting my dog in your fight.”

“Hey, five minutes ago all you had was a dead body,”
she said. “You knew zip until we walked in here. I just told you the victim was
having an affair. I even gave you his name. And I told you the husband knew
about his cheating wife. Either I’m missing something or I just handed you a
marvelous jump on your investigation. Give me an hour and I’ll wrap up the
whole damn case for you.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Now if you don’t
want to say thank you that’s fine. But how about a little respect?”

“I respectfully thank you,” he said it without a
smile. “Now can I get back to work?”

“Geez, what a hardass. Personally, I believe since
the victim had a boyfriend, that angle should be investigated. However, I know
you’ve been doing this stuff for a long time, and you’re good at it. I’m just
offering you leads and my insight.”

“Your leads are welcome, your interference is not.
Save the insights for someone who cares. Got anything else?”

“How can you ignore a romantic triangle in which
two of the players have been murdered? Alive or dead, Boyd fits into your Myra
Cramer murder case. I can promise you the Cal Boyd murder up there and her
murder down here are connected.” She held up her hand like a traffic cop. “Don’t
say it. I know you don’t care about my promises. But Boyd is the keystone in
our kidnapping and extortion case.”

He stood to indicate the meeting was over. They
also stood. “Thanks for stopping by,” he said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

She wasn’t through. “How about a little favor? It
would help me if you could have someone from your office phone Bristol Trucking.
I’d like to know what address Boyd gave his employer.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“The boyfriend’s address? Now why would I give you
that?”

“He was murdered. I want to check out where he
lived and someone around there might have evidence leading to his killer.”

“Sounds like police business to me, not amateur
hour.”

“Come on, you’ve got to give me something.”

“Just add the husband and Bristol Trucking to the
list of people and places you’re to stay away from down here. In fact, stay
away from everyone you’ve ever heard of or intend to hear about. I’ll deal directly
with Detective Jaworski. And by the way, he tells me you
don’t
have
positive evidence that Boyd is connected to your kidnapping and extortion case.
He could be just someone mugged in the park. Just another of your guesses. No,
I’m not getting you his address and I’m warning you to stay away. You’re in my territory
now and I’m busy.”

“I agree with all of that, detective. I’m not
going to be a problem. You have a tough job. I can make guesses all day long
and they mean nothing. You make a wrong decision and someone could suffer. That
has to be in the back of your mind. I see that stack of case files on your desk
and you probably have many more in some file cabinet. Now I’m going to get out
of here and let you get to work. But you’re going to hear about me flitting
around out there, and I don’t want you getting pushed out of shape. I’m not
fighting you.”

“I like the part where you said you’re getting out
of here. And I warn you, if you say anything to the FBI that even remotely
sounds like I’m helping you, your ass has had it.”

He pointed his finger from one to the other. “So
both of you are lawyers and live in Park Beach. Are you two married?”

Was he asking if they were man and wife? She answered,
“Neither of us is married.”

“What’s happening to your normal law practice
while you’re running around down here?”

“You’re right. It was just beginning to get
prosperous, when all this happened. Now I suppose basically it’s going to hell.”
She took out one of her business cards and handed it to him. Martin did the
same. The detective carelessly tossed them on his desk.

She ignored the fact he was waiting for them to
leave, and said. “Just one more thing...you’ve got to like this—”

Martin interrupted her, “Give it up, Sandy. Let’s
get out of here.”

She shook her head and stepped closer. “The
victim’s husband, Ryan, told me Myra found a gun in their house, which they
believed was left there by Boyd. Might be the murder weapon.”

That really got Dominic’s attention. “What kind of
gun?”

“I didn’t ask him and he wouldn’t have known
anyway. Come on, tell me about the murder weapon.”