5 Windy City Hunter (13 page)

“I got the impression he wasn’t being very nice to you about Mrs. Fisher’s murder,” he said with a raised eyebrow. I nodded my head yes. “He said he was worried you would get involved, or something would happen to you, and with Mick counting on him to keep you out of trouble, well, he didn’t want to tell you. As for the police, he wanted to talk with his uncle first. He figured there was a good reason as to why the necklace was here.”

“Well, why doesn’t someone just call Jack?” I asked.

“They’ve tried,” he said. “Darby and the police both, but no one knows where he is.”

“He’s in Tokyo,” I said.

“We know he’s in Tokyo, Susan, but no one can reach him, and we don’t know exactly where in Tokyo he is.” The detective was starting to sound exasperated.

I wanted to stay positive. “He’ll be home soon enough. I’m sure he’ll have a rational explanation for the necklace, and then we’ll be able to put this behind us.”

The detective shook his head “I don’t think so,” he said. “They brought a new charge against Darby this morning.”

I stared at him. What else could they possibly have to charge him with?

“The bottle of vanilla Darby brought to the cooking contest - the one Delma Snider borrowed – it was laced with a high concentration of Rohypnol. That’s a date-rape drug. The security cameras show her pouring some on a spoon and tasting it before she put it into her icing, and then she tasted her icing several times. By the time she walked outside for some fresh air, she was dizzy, and she lurched into traffic. The charge right now is a felony misdemeanor, but Delma is still in critical condition. If she dies, Darby is going to be charged with involuntary manslaughter.

My world went spinning. I tried to put my head down on my knees, but I felt myself pitching forward onto the floor before everything went black.

When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the sofa with a somewhat cold compress on my forehead. Detective Bentley was sitting calmly in the chair as he read through papers in a folder.

I sat up.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I don’t mean to make things harder for you. I don’t know why I passed out.”

“Bad news will do that to some people,” he said. “Are you ok to talk about this some more? I don’t want to put you through this if you can’t handle it.”

“I’m fine,” I told him. “I want to help, and I’ll feel better doing something anyway.”

“We don’t have much time,” he said. “Darby is going to be arraigned tomorrow on the murder charge, and I’ve asked Detective Malloy to wait to move him to a prison facility. Gay or not, he’s too much of a pretty boy to dump into a prison population if the police aren’t one hundred percent certain of their facts. I want a couple of days to see what I can find out. He agreed to give me until noon on Wednesday. If nothing turns up by then, Darby will be moved to a federal facility to await trial.”

“Chuck, there’s no way Darby would have sabotaged his own cooking ingredients,” I said.

“I know, Susan,” he said, “but I’m more interested in working on the murder charge. It needs all of our attention right now.”

“How can I help?” I asked.

“Darby said you wanted to tell him about things you saw, and he wouldn’t let you. How about if we start by you telling me everything you can think of? Don’t leave out any detail no matter how small.”

“Ok, but some of the things I saw involve the cooking competition. They might be important,” I told him. He nodded his head, so I continued. “I think it all started when we stopped for gas on our way into the city. I saw Craig from the cooking competition, but I didn’t know it was him at the time. He was talking to a man in a suit. I thought him to be a businessman of some type. Wes is an insurance investigator who handles Mrs. Fisher’s insurance. He was in his car at this gas station, and I think he was watching the businessman, because he followed him out of the lot.”

Detective Bentley already looked confused. He pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote in one corner: Gas Station. Craig. Businessman. Wes. He then drew a line to connect Craig to the businessman, and a separate line to connect Wes to the businessman.

I went on to tell him everything that had happened up until today when I saw the gorilla head pop out of Mrs. Fisher’s doorway. By the time I was done, he had mapped out the gas station, the condo, Ditka’s restaurant, and the Wilder Hotel. Beside each, he had written names of people who worked there, or who I had seen or had interaction with.

“Look at this, Susan,” he said as he pointed to his map. “There’s one name that shows up at every location.”

“Wes,” I said. “Is that important?”

“It might be,” he said. “He has to be our starting point. Let me make a few calls and see if I can get him over here, or if we can meet him somewhere.”

While the detective was on the phone, I walked into the kitchen for a bottle of water. I didn’t like Wes. He was a jerk, and he was the one who had acted suspicious of Darby in the first place.

I had mentioned to Detective Bentley that I had seen Wes talking with a man at Ditka’s, but I didn’t tell him I suspected it was the guy wearing the gorilla head. I didn’t want to add any guesswork to his investigation. But now that I was sure he was the murderer, why would Wes have been meeting with him, and what were they exchanging?

The detective joined me in the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed a bottle of water for himself. “Wes is going to come here at 4:00,” he said. “I’m going to look over more of the paperwork and make some notes.” He emptied one of his pockets onto the counter. “Here are a couple of things Darby had on him when he was arrested. He asked to have them given to you, and Detective Malloy retrieved them for me.”

On the counter was a key to the condo, his own personal set of keys, and a ticket stub for a parking lot. I handed a key to the detective.

“This is for the condo,” I told him. “You can use it so no one has to let you in while you’re here.”

I picked up Darby’s keys. It suddenly felt all too real. Would he ever hold these keys again? Would he ever drive his car again? Open his apartment door across the hall from me at home again? My eyes welled up with tears, but I swallowed hard to fight them back. I picked up the ticket stub and said, “I’m going to walk over to the Wilder Hotel and find the car and bring it back. It’s only two blocks, and I can use the fresh air. The lot should be close to the hotel, and I’ll ask Terry about it on my way out.”

“That’s a good idea. We might need the car. Leave your phone on,” he said. “If something comes up, I’ll call you.”

I nodded my head and went to bundle up for the walk.

Downstairs, Terry gave directions to me for the parking lot noted on the ticket stub, and showed me where to park the car when I returned. I headed north to the hotel. It was cold and windy, but with my knitted scarf wrapped around my mouth and neck, I was comfortable and warm.

As I neared the hotel, I noticed two women exit a car, run across the street, and into the hotel. I was sure one of them was Bonnie Montgomery. I quickened my pace, and entered the hotel a few moments after they did. I pulled my scarf from my mouth and loosened it from my neck. I scanned the lobby and spotted the two women waiting for an elevator.

I started to walk across the lobby, and called out as the elevator doors were opening, “Bonnie!”

She turned, a smile crossed her face, and she said something to her companion. The woman stepped into the elevator, while Bonnie came over to talk with me.

“Susan, hi,” she said. “What are you doin’ here? How’s Darby?”

“Not good, Bonnie,” I told her. “A woman was murdered in the condo where we’re staying, and they think Darby did it. He’s still in jail and they’re going to formally charge him tomorrow.”

“Oh, Susan, I’m sorry,” she said. “He seems like such a nice guy. Did you know he was capable of murder?”

I was stunned by her question. It was as though she was assuming he was guilty. “Bonnie, Darby didn’t murder anyone. It probably happened just as we were arriving.” I was offended and raised my voice slightly. “He’s one of the best people I’ve ever met in my life, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly. I know he didn’t do what they’re saying.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Susan,” she said. “I come from a family of lawyers, and I know they can’t charge someone with murder without cause. I hope everythin’ works out for you both.” She turned and walked away.

I was speechless. After seeing her look so shocked when Darby was taken away in handcuffs, I thought she would be much more sympathetic. I wanted to ask her if she had seen Wes in the viewing stands, but now it seemed like a bad idea. She wouldn’t have any idea who Wes was anyway. I watched her walk away for a moment and decided she was clearly not as nice a person as I had thought. I adjusted my scarf again, and walked outside to find the lot with the car.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Wes Bradley, it’s good to meet you,” Detective Bentley said as he shook Wes’s hand. “Come on in and have a seat. You’ve already met Susan.”

“Yes,” he said without smiling at me. “Susan Hunter-Raines. We’ve met.”

“It’s just Raines,” I told him.

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath.

This was not going to go well. Wes and I got off on the wrong foot, and I suspected it would be best if I sat quietly and let Detective Bentley ask the questions.

Wes and I were seated on the sofa, and Detective Bentley sat in the chair. He picked up a notebook and flipped through a couple of pages.

Wes turned to me and said, “Something to drink, princess? A beer? Scotch on the rocks?”

My mouth dropped open. He was such a jerk. “I’ll get you a Diet Coke,” I said. “Chuck you want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he said.

I went to the kitchen for Wes’s drink. Instead of bringing a can to him, I took the time to pour it into a glass with ice. Maybe he would appreciate the gesture. I heard him explaining to Detective Bentley that his field of expertise was art and jewelry fraud for Mountain Premium Insurance.

Settled on the sofa again, I leaned back to listen.

“Let’s start with the Quickie Foods Gas Station on the south side of the city,” the detective said. “This is where you and Susan first saw each other. What were you doing there?”

“I just stopped for a cup of coffee,” he said.

“There wasn’t anyone there who was of interest to you?” asked the detective.

“Nope. Just having coffee,” he said. “Susan was ogling my good looks as I drove away.”

I sat up. “Oh, give me a break. I wasn’t ogling you, and you weren’t having coffee either,” I said.

“How do you know if I was or I wasn’t?” he asked. “You weren’t in the car with me.”

“Wes, I know what you were doing,” I said. Ooh, he was infuriating. “I was watching you while you were watching the man in the suit who was driving the white Cadillac. You pulled out right behind him then.”

“Wes, I could use some help here,” Detective Bentley said. “Which was it? Coffee or surveillance?”

Wes smiled. “It was both,” he said. “The man in the suit is George Duarte. He may be the middle man for a rash of art forgeries in the city right now. A group of art thieves are using a security company to gain access to wealthy homes. Photos are taken of valuable artworks, George has fakes commissioned, and the paintings are swapped. It might take years for the owner to realize they have a forgery, but with more attention being brought to the scheme lately, more people are having their artworks checked, and we’re facing more and more claims. The police need to stop this group, and hopefully, we’ll find records for the sales of the stolen originals.”

“What was he doing with Craig at Check Casher?” I asked. I couldn’t believe Craig would be caught up in criminal activity. He had so much going his way right now.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “That was the first day I had ever seen Craig. It looked to me like Duarte was giving him money, so I assumed he was asking Craig to paint a forgery for him. I saw them together once more in a hallway at the Wilder. It was the night of the cooking competition reception, and they were arguing. I wasn’t close enough to hear them. I followed Duarte to a bar downtown, but I’ve lost him since then. Unless Craig shows up somewhere with a forgery, I’ve hit a dead end on this.”

I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to offer any information to him.

“Ok,” Detective Bentley said. “You were in the hallway when Mrs. Fisher’s body was discovered. Why were you here?”

“I came to talk with her about a claim she filed,” he said. “Fifty thousand dollars worth of loose diamonds was stolen from her condo last month, and even though the claim was paid, there was some final paperwork I needed from her.”

“Do you make house calls often?” the detective asked.

“I did for Penelope Fisher,” he said. “We were friendly enough. She preferred to do business in person, and I could usually get a Scotch and some good stories before leaving her place.”

“What about Ditka’s Restaurant?” Detective Bentley asked.

“What about it?” Wes asked.

“I saw you there with another man,” I said. “He came in, you exchanged something, and then he left.”