Bob Moats - Jim Richards 01-03- 3 for Murder Box Set (48 page)

“My wife says I have to contribute to the marriage, otherwise I get nothing from her. I show I’m working at this stinking job, and she gives me my toys. This job is no killer, and I get to be away from her.” Well, that answered that.

“Have you ever been married before this?”

“I was married twice, tragic marriages, both wives are dead.”

“Were either of those wives into swapping or kink?” I asked.

“Hell, no, they were just as frigid as my present wife.”

“Ralph, what is your goal if accepted as a member of our group?”

“To have great sex with as many women as I can. Isn’t that the goal of every man?”

I wanted to punch his lights out, but said, “Oh, yes, we all have that goal, don’t we?”

“So you’re having regular sex at the bondage club. Doesn’t your wife wonder why her sex is cut back?” I asked.

“I give it to her when she’s getting in a bitchy mood about it, doing my duty for the cause.” He smirked.

“Do you plan on staying with your wife if you get into our club?”

“Hell, yes, as long as the money is there, I’ll stay and slip it to her once in a while, keep her happy.” He grinned.

I really wanted to punch this guy. “OK, I have enough to take back to the board. I’ll get back to you shortly.”

He shook my hand, and I left. Once in the car, I said to Buck, “You got it all?”

“I’m a regular
Steven Spielberg
. Elma’s going to love our movie.” He grinned.

We went back to the office, and I took the tape out of the Handicam and put it in my fire-proof lock box.

It was almost 11:30 a.m., and I was wondering what to do next about Weston’s case.

I looked at Buck and said, “I’ll call Elma in a while and have her come in tomorrow.” Buck said he wanted to be there. I said he’d have front row seats and popcorn.

*

Chapter Eight

Buck said if I didn’t need him, he had some running to do. I said to go enjoy himself and call before he came back to be sure I was in. He left, and I began reading the file on Weston that Benson gave me. I wondered if it was a copy of the police file or just the lawyer’s copy. As I was staring off into space, my cell phone rang. It was Trapper.

“Hello, super cop,” I said.

“Don’t try and butter me up. I’m still mad at you for telling Buck about my troubled youth.” I could tell he was smiling. “I did a bit of detective work. I do that, you know. It’s my job, and I even get paid for it. I talked to some people here who used to work in Roseville. Not a one of them had a good word to say about Lincoln. He has a rep for being a cowboy, doesn’t follow the rules all the time. If he can bend them, he will. One guy here said he thought Lincoln was into some shady activities, even hints of B&D. Sound familiar?” I could tell Trapper was eating it up.

“Well, he could be the link then, but I can’t go in and accuse a police detective of murder and conspiracy,” I said.

“Not if you want to stay alive, knowing he may be behind it,” Trapper warned.

“I guess I’ll have to try and prove Weston’s innocence and let the police figure out who did it.”

“That’s a plan. I’ll back you with anything you need that’s in my jurisdiction. Just keep me informed,” he said.

I thought he was about to hang up and told him to hold on. “I have a question that I have wanted to ask you ever since the classmate murders. Every time you’re done with talking on the phone or leaving a room, you don’t say good-bye. It’s just a courtesy thing, but you don’t do it. Why?”

He was quiet for a bit. I gave him the leeway. He hemmed a while then said, “I’ll tell you, but it goes no further than this. You tell Buck, and I’ll hunt you down and waste you. Understood?” I said I agreed. “I’m telling you this because it’s something very personal and sometimes it’s good to share with someone. I was young when my father died. I told you before that I was in police academy when it happened, and he was a cop, too. I lived with my parents when they moved to North Las Vegas while I was in academy. One day my dad and I had an argument, and I stormed out of the house saying good-bye rather harshly. Later that day he was killed on duty in a gang related shoot out. I regretted the way I said good-bye to him. It took me a long time to get over it. Then two years later, I was living with a wonderful woman, and one day we had a fight and I said I was leaving and stormed out, again yelling good-bye to her. She was killed in a head on collision that afternoon. That was the day I stopped saying good-bye. I didn’t want to lose another person I cared about.” He went silent and hung up.

I was a bit stunned and reached for a tissue. I didn’t know what to do now. I thought about going up to the Midnight Bar and asking around about the mystery woman. I reached for the phone and dialed Elma. She came on, and I asked her if she could come in tomorrow morning. She asked if I had any good news. I said I would cover everything then. She was quiet and then said she’d be in. Now I felt even worse, hearing my friend tell me his story and having to burst a poor woman’s bubble about her cheating husband. I took refuge in the fact that I was exposing a cheat, and hopefully she would deal with it. I would recommend Benson as a divorce lawyer, if it came to that. But I still felt bad.

Around 3 p.m., I was fidgeting with some files on my desk when the door opened and a gorgeous redhead stepped in and asked where the travel agency was. I told her, she thanked me and left. I thought about opening up my own travel agency. I sure as hell wasn’t getting the good looking ones.

My cell phone rang and I looked. Just the phone number, didn’t know who it could be, so I answered it.

“Mr. P.I., this is Dolly from the Midnight Bar. You told me to call if that woman showed up. Well, she’s here,” she said excitedly.

I told her I was about 15 minutes away, and asked if she could stall her, talk to her, buy her drinks on me, anything to keep her there. I was on my way. I hung up and did my best to keep within the speed limit but was pushing it. I got to the bar and entered.

Dolly saw me and motioned to a woman sitting at the back end of the bar by the wall. I went over and sat next to her, looked at her and nodded my head.

“Go away, I’m not interested,” she said, glancing at me.

“Yeah, well, neither am I,” I said. “But there are other people interested in you. It would be in your best of health to talk to me.”

She was silent then started to get up. I grabbed her arm and sat her back down.

“Hey, that hurts, I’ll call the cops!” she wailed.

“Go ahead. I’d like that, so you can explain to them why you went to a motel with David Weston on the night his wife was butchered. Go ahead and call the cops, or do you want me to do it for you?” I threatened.

She was deadly silent for a full minute, just staring at the bar top, and then spoke softly. “I had nothing to do with any murders.”

“I didn’t say you did. I just want to know if you were with Weston that night.”

“What did you mean it would be in my best health to talk?” she asked.

“I think there is something going on. The police are possibly not interested in clearing Weston, and you could be someone they don’t want talking. Get what I mean? So far you don’t exist, but that could change. I can get you protection with Weston’s lawyer if you want to stay alive.” I knew I was spreading it on thick, but I had to convince this woman to come in and testify, so I lied a bit.

“I have a family, I don’t want to get involved,” she said.

“I understand. Just talk to the lawyer, and we can work things out for you. That’s all it takes.” I hoped I wouldn’t have to resort to unpleasant actions.

She looked at me and said, “I read what happened to that woman. I’m sorry it happened. Yes, I was with Dave when she was killed. I was afraid to say anything. I didn’t want my husband or children to know I was having a fling. But I felt guilty about Dave being blamed. I came here to see if I was remembered. I guess I was.”

“I’ll be sure you’re protected, my pledge, even though you don’t know me. I’ll deal with it. I’m also a licensed private investigator. I carry a big gun.”

I asked the woman her name. She said Marylou. I told her my name and said that Dave called her by another name. She said she lied and told him Cindy. I knew I had the right woman.

She smiled and asked what she should do. I said to follow me out of the bar quietly and then I would take her some place safe to talk to the lawyer. She agreed. I got out my cell phone and called Benson. He came on.

“I’ve got the woman. She needs protection. Where can we meet?”

“Bring her to my office, and we’ll decide what to do.” I said I’d be there in about twenty minutes and hung up.

I took her hand and got her on her feet. I waved to the barmaid and put another twenty on the bar. She came over and said I’d be welcome anytime. Marylou and I left the building and headed to my car. We were just about ready to turn the corner of the building to the parking lot on the side when I felt something zing past my ear, immediately followed by the sound of a shot as a bullet struck the building. I pushed Marylou to the ground and covered her the best I could while I drew my Glock out and pointed it in the direction I thought the shot came from. One more shot came and hit the pavement as I fired a couple rounds towards a car on the street. It sped off, but not before I blew out its rear window. I looked at Marylou and said, “Well, I warned you.”

*

Chapter Nine

I quickly got Marylou to my car and pulled out my cell phone. I speed dialed Trapper. He came on, and I explained what was going on and what just happened. I said I was about five minutes from Clinton Township precinct and twenty minutes from Benson, and I wanted police protection right now. He said to get my ass in quickly and be careful. I drove out of the lot and headed down Groesbeck to the police headquarters where trapper and Officer Becker were waiting out front. I hadn’t seen Becker since the classmate murders, and he greeted me.

“Guys, this is Marylou Martin. She admits to being with Dave Weston during the time his wife was murdered.”

They said their hellos, and Trapper said to me, “I called Benson and told him we were bringing her in, but I didn’t think it’s a good idea for her to be anywhere near Roseville right now. He agreed. Mark really has no place for her to be safe now that someone knows she exists.

“What am I supposed to do? I don’t want to die!” Marylou wailed. I put my hand on her shoulder and told her to calm down, we weren’t going to let anything happen to her. I looked at Trapper. He shrugged.

“She’s a material witness to a crime and her life is definitely in danger. She needs protection,” I demanded.

“Yes, we can hold her here over night till the DA and Prosecutor’s offices talk to her. We’ll take her in and get her statement on record, but it’s not our jurisdiction. Roseville may want to take her in there,” Trapper offered.

“Oh, yea, let them get careless with their handling of the witness. Maybe she’ll fall down a flight of stairs,” I argued.

“Jim, I understand, but there is a process we have to abide by. It’s the law. We have nothing to hold her for.”

I knew Trapper didn’t like the system. I had an idea. I took Marylou’s arm and swung her hand to Trapper’s face and nearly knocked him over. I misjudged my aim. He came back and said what the hell was I doing. I yelled, arrest this woman, she just assaulted an officer of the law! Trapper looked at me and smiled. He turned to Becker and said to escort Mrs. Martin into lock up. He told her she can’t be assaulting police and she would have to suffer the consequences. She was wide eyed and not sure what the hell we were up to, but she knew she was going to be away from anyone wanting to kill her. Trapper looked at me and said I could have warned him. I said, what fun would that be? He grinned.