Chasing Suspect Three (8 page)

“Your concern is justified. Nevertheless, you
shouldn’t cut off Chip, until he proves untrustworthy. Innocent
until proven guilty, remember?” He tapped the side of his head with
his index finger. “Back up. You said he met with her for coffee on
the night of the murder. I think the point isn’t that he met with
her, but rather
when
he met with her.”

“Not for me it isn’t. And Chip didn’t seem
concerned about the timing.”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s something
you’re not telling me? Are you suggesting the meeting might
indicate his involvement somehow in the murder?”

She shook her head at the ridiculous
thought.

“Well, something else is going on here. You
can’t discuss it with me?”

She couldn’t discuss the diary with anyone.
Could she?

“Something to do with Chip and the book of
poems?”

He was getting too close. She couldn’t just
change the subject. It would help to discuss it. “The book she gave
to Chip wasn’t a book of poems. It was her sexy diary cleverly
hidden under the dust cover from a book of poems.”

“Sexy diary, you say?”

“Actually an erotic diary.”

“Erotic diary?” he questioned. “Am I too
young to hear about it?”

“More like a pornographic diary. To tell the
truth, I don’t know the difference.”

“If something turns me on, it’s erotic. If it
turns other people on, it’s pornographic,” he said.

“You rascal. Are you taking this
seriously?”

“I’m not going to get upset over what other
people look at. Although, giving the diary to Chip does sound
rather sleazy. What did he think of it?”

“He threw it away without ever looking at
it.”

“That’s what you should do. Throw it out of
your mind. It's not worth worrying about. Whether she wanted to
entice him or annoy him, she failed.”

“You brush the entire thing away just like
that.” She snapped her fingers. “And here I was worked up over
nothing more than my lover possibly taking part in record-setting
sex with another woman. What if she was writing about Chip in the
diary?”

“Probably was entirely made up. Forget about
it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“From a man’s point of view, if I were
interested in the woman, I would not throw it away. Chip threw it
away. Next question.”

“I suppose Chip might also feel that way.”
She gave a little shrug. “I guess that takes care of my
overpowering suspicions.”

“You’re welcome.” He pushed the papers on his
desk aside. “Now what about Margo Larena and your murder case?”

“There are happenings in this case I normally
would discuss with Chip. Can’t now because it’s privileged
communication.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“But you have no immunity from questioning
either. If they asked you, legally you’d have to tell them I broke
the rules by telling you things my client told me.”

“You never told me a thing. I know
nothing.”

“I know you’re joking. I’d never put you in
such an awkward position. I guess I’ll just consult with
myself.”

“Perhaps you could simply tell me how you
feel about the progress of the case without essentially revealing
anything discussed with your client.”

“You mean just walk a hypothetical high wire
between two buildings. What if I took you on as co-counsel on this
case? Then there would be no client-privilege violations, and our
discussions would be legal.”

“This is
your
big case, your first
murder defense.”

“We could do it together, unless you just
don’t want to be drawn into the dirty business of murder.”

“No, I want to help you without being
co-counsel. I want it to be all yours. You’re the woman with the
criminal mind, so to speak, and when you come out of this
successfully, the glory will be all yours. There must be ways I can
help you short of getting blood all over my clothes.”

“Maybe so, I’ll hold down the direct comments
made by my client, and we’ll maintain the fiction of observing
attorney-client privilege. Of course, this means occasional trips
over to the police department for you and long talks with Judy
Naegler while gazing deeply into her eyes.”

“Well, since you put it that way, consider me
in. So what’s going on?”

“All we know for certain is in the two police
reports. The story out of Margo’s mouth varies each time she tells
it. With her the truth flickers on and off like a cheap neon sign.
Basically, she was at the Community Center at seven, and someone
fired at her hitting her car. Later that night, her husband is
found dead in his condo across town.”

“What do you mean,
someone
fired? The
police report has her telling the police it was John.”

“Why do clients always remember the wrong
things? I don’t want it to be John. I convinced her she was
uncertain, that she just assumed it was him. I want it to be an
unknown assailant. The police are thinking, he fires at her, she
gets mad, drives to his place, and offs him. If she’s not certain,
and it’s an unknown assailant, it weakens that motive.”

“Who’s on the case?”

“You know them. Mel Shapiro is the ASA in
charge of the prosecution. The assigned detective is Eddy Jaworski.
I’m going over to the courthouse now and try to start up some
communications with Shapiro. If you want, would you see what you
can find out on her boyfriend, Richie Grant? Same name as the
reality-show star.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Me neither.”

She knew that the police could find out about
him much faster. The computer in Chip’s vehicle could access the
Florida Department of Law Enforcement database and all manner of
restricted information. In the past, Chip hadn’t hesitated to
stretch departmental rules and run name and background searches for
her. Something told her the present case was too sensitive to even
ask him.

She said, “One way of checking up on this
Richie would be to simply tell Jaworski the boyfriend was
implicated, and let the authorities chase after him. The problem is
they just might not be willing to share all they find out. No, I
don’t want to let them know about the existence of Richie Grant
until I can talk with him. At this point, they know she has a
boyfriend but don’t know his name. If they knew his name, they’d
come down on him, and he’d lawyer up.”

“I understand. What’s his address? What do I
have to start with?”

“I just gave you all we have to start
with—his name. He’s Margo Larena’s boyfriend. To hear her tell it,
he’s hot and sexy in the sack. Does that help?”

“That’s more information than I care to
know.”

“You could start by walking over to the
police station and thanking Judy for faxing over that extra
report.”

“I doubt if she wants to see me.”

“She does. Don’t you get it? She tried to get
your attention by faxing over that second police report. I think
you owe her a lunch. Come on. Lock up the office and walk with me.
It’s a beautiful day.”

They walked together for two short blocks
then split up with him going straight on to the police department
and her turning toward the courthouse.

They knew him around the police building and
getting on the elevator to the second floor without a visitor’s
pass bothered no one. Walking down the second floor hall, he
spotted Judy Naegler in her cubicle, and a hot tingle went up his
spine.

She came out to greet him smiling warmly.
“You’ve been up here a couple of times since our last conversation,
but you never came by to say hello.”

“I was avoiding you. I thought you were still
mad at me. Today, I have a good excuse. I want to thank you for
sending over that extra fax on the Community Center shooting.”

“And?”

“And to apologize for how my friend
impolitely interrupted us in the lobby that day.”

“I misunderstood the situation and
overreacted. I thought she was your girlfriend. I picked up the
phone to call you a couple of times but couldn’t go through with
it.”

“You thought about phoning me?” He was
surprised at that. “No, she wasn’t my girlfriend, but we’ve known
each other since grade school. I haven’t seen much of her since her
husband died. I suppose I should go out there and see how she’s
doing. The three of us were buddies.”

“None of my business, but I’m curious. If she
wasn’t your girlfriend, why were you intimate with her?”

“Never! I did my share of teenage lusting
over her but never intimate...like you mean.”

“That’s not what Jaworski wrote in his report
back then. When he walked around the house to her pool area, he saw
you playing with her boobs.”

“Jaworski was mistaken. Don’t tell me all
this going to start again.”

She couldn’t resist having fun with it. “I
guess you could have been just trying to guess her weight.”

“She had just gotten out of the pool. We were
sitting talking about old times. She had just lost her husband—my
best friend. The three of us had grown up together. He wasn’t even
buried yet. She took my hand and put it on her breast. She was
flirting. I was consoling. She felt abandoned. I felt sorry for her
and went along with it.”

“How very considerate of you.”

“Fine, so it’s not a secret around the police
station,” he said. “I didn’t know it was out there for public
consumption.”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t be, but it’s just
too juicy.”

“Come on, I’m dying here. Give me a chance to
tell you how it happened.”

“Tell me or show me?” she said with a
straight face.

Then he grinned. “You have to be
kidding.”

“I am. I’ve taken this far enough...I’ve had
my fun.” She laughed and reached over and squeezed his arm.
“There’s nothing to explain. You were two consenting adults in what
was intended to be a private poolside setting. More power to you.
She was lucky to have a caring friend such as you.”

He focused on her dark blue eyes and was lost
in them for a few seconds. “Let’s start with lunch.”

She nodded okay. “Just remember to keep your
hands to yourself.”

A
fter watching
Martin walk on toward the police station to make amends with Judy,
Sandy continued on one short block to the county courthouse. She
checked her watch. Shapiro had said to come on over during lunch
hour—he had no appointments. She had no particular anxiety in
meeting with the ASA. It was early in the case, and both sides were
still gathering facts.

In the lobby, she kidded with the sheriff’s
deputies as they cleared her through the security checkpoint. The
elevators were straight ahead. A group of three men was already
waiting at the elevator, talking and laughing. She stepped up and
stood beside them. Then she saw him. One of the men was Lawrence
Moran, the state attorney for the district.

The last time they met, she was standing
contritely in his office being chewed out, while pleading for him
to not try to take away her newly acquired law license. Later, she
turned it all around on him by discovering an embarrassing bit of
his own malfeasance.

When the elevator door opened, she held back.
Moran had not noticed her yet. He would as soon as she stepped out
into full view. But the men waited for her. She could still turn
and run. Screw him, she thought. What’s he going to do, yell and
scream? She stepped boldly first onto the elevator. No one
acknowledged her. The offices of the State Attorney, his
assistants, and staff were on the third floor. The door opened, she
stepped off briskly, and headed up the hall to the office of Mel
Shapiro, one of the ASAs on the staff of State Attorney Moran.

She hadn’t crossed swords with Moran
recently, but remained
persona non grata
in his large office
suite down the hall in the opposite direction. She hadn’t pissed
him off lately, as far as she knew, still the day wasn’t over.
Before she went in Shapiro’s office, she looked over her shoulder
down the hallway. The group of men was in the hall talking. Moran
was standing at the side staring straight at her.

When she walked in, Shapiro stood behind his
desk in his office and greeted her, “Ah, the good news is I’m going
to see you more often. The bad is it’ll be in a courtroom.”

He was a gifted trial lawyer, and she wasn’t
looking forward to going up against him. “Always nice to see you,
Mel, wherever. How’s the bachelor father?”

He noticed her glancing over at the photo of
the beautiful young girl on his credenza. “Did I show you her
picture?”

“Not today.”

“She’s fine. Two more years to go up at
Carolina State.”

“North or South? I forget.”

“I wish it were South Carolina State
University, be easier for her to get down here more often. Happy
and doing well—that’s the important thing. If you came to ask me to
have a drink with you tonight, Sorry, I’m busy. I’ve been putting
off rearranging my sock drawer.”

The slight blush just then on his face led
her to believe he’d literally like to be in the place Chip Goddard
presently filled in her life. She certainly wouldn’t mind him being
there. He was tall and slender with old-fashioned horn-rimmed
glasses that reminded her of her high school principal; except the
principal had thin prissy lips, and Mel had...well, she wondered
what it would be like if they were touching her. She did find him
attractive and liked being around him, however she wasn’t looking
beyond her relationship with Chip. She had never encouragd Mel, yet
it was nice for her to think he was waiting around.

“Congratulations to you and Martin on your
success with that four million dollar judgment in the Banks versus
Olin wrongful death suit. How much do you think you’ll eventually
recover?”

“We couldn’t locate any Abby Olin assets
other than the West Palm Beach condo she inherited from her father.
We put it up for sale. If we can find a buyer, it might go for a
couple million. The widow is still struggling with her kids up in
Delaware trying to get by. She can’t believe she’s going to be a
millionaire.”