Death of a Bankster (17 page)

Chapter 17

“Hello, Ms. Davis. Sergeant Richards. We met at your daughter’s … you remember?”

“Of course, Sergeant.” Barbara Davis pushed open her screen door. “I’m a little surprised to find you on my front porch. Is there something wrong? Is Paige all right?”

“She’s fine. Nothing’s wrong. It’s just you’ve been involved so much helping Paige, and I’ve been impressed with your thinking on this matter. I thought I’d stop by and see if you’ve had any further thoughts, and to answer any question you have, if I can. Is this a bad time?”

Barbara Davis had on jeans and flat, laced shoes, and a sweater. Her purse and keys on a sofa table next to the door.

“Tuesday’s are usually slow for me. Now is fine, Sergeant. Look at me, I’ve forgotten my manners. Please come in.” Maddie stepped inside and Paige’s mother closed the door behind her. “I have some coffee on. I doubt America would function well without coffee.” Maddie smiled and the two women shared an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Isn’t that the truth? I’d love a cup. Black, please. If you’ll join me, that is.”

Ms. Davis led Maddie into her kitchen to a small, round, glass top table which sat in an alcove off the kitchen. “Here’s your coffee,” she said bringing two cups to the table and sitting with Maddie.

“You have a lovely home, Ms. Davis. It’s nice and bright in this alcove, yet the sun isn’t right your face when you sit here.”

“Thank you. The windows in this alcove face southwest, so they don’t get direct sun until late in the afternoon, and even then not much.” Ms. Davis sat across from Maddie, crossed her legs and leaned forward, her forearms on the glass top. “That was sure something I read in the paper, you guys finding Sam’s body right where the phony medical examiner said he was going to take it. I guess he did just that. Made all of you look a little foolish, I suppose.”

“Yes ma’am that it did. No real cause for that, but it did. Mostly it showed that security at the medical examiner’s office is not as good as it should be. In fairness, it is not a place people generally want to break into.”

Barbara Davis laughed, and then stifled it. “No. I suppose not. Is the coffee alright?” Maddie nodded. “I have some hazelnut creamer. I got Paige hooked on it. We both use it.”

Maddie shook her head. “Black is my way, but thanks just the same.”

“Your visit, Sergeant, is there something you wanted to know? Is there something I might tell you that could help?”

“Since we last met, I’ve somewhat filled in the profile of Sam Crawford. Mothers-in-law have their own unique perspectives on sons-in-law. May I run it by you and invite you to comment?”

“Certainly,” Barbara Davis said while nodding her head to complete an audio-visual reply.

“Sam Crawford was an executive at the bank. He exclusively handled foreign accounts, traveled a great deal, here in the U.S. and abroad. On the side, he kept himself busy as a ladies’ man.” Maddie stopped and took a drink of coffee, watching Barbara Davis’s body language.

“I heard stories about … his shenanigans. My daughter was certainly convinced of it. It caused her a great deal of consternation, I can tell you that.”

“As it would cause any wife, why do men find that sort of thing necessary? Aren’t there any husbands who don’t cheat? Of course, I exaggerate, but it sometimes seems that way.”

“Did I detect a bit of personal feelings in that statement?”

“Yes ma’am, you did, I’m afraid.” Maddie realized Ms. Davis was worming her just as she had come to worm Ms. Davis. “I’m divorced. Maybe in your day, with Mr. Davis, things were different. Men were different, I mean—”

“Oh, men were not all that different. Women were different, wives I mean.”

“Oh?”

“Women were much more tolerant in my day. Many women just looked the other way. Marriages stayed together despite their husband’s … dalliances, shall I say. We sucked it up more, I guess is the way people today would say it. Lower divorce rates then.”

“Ah. But was that better or worse?”

“A great question, Sergeant. Marriages did stay together, but perhaps the spouses were often less happy. Are children better off in an unbroken, unhappy home than in a broken, happy home? People were less willing to show affection in public, less willing to show anger outside the home as well.”

“Why do you think that was?”

“Social pressures were greater. A woman who had been divorced was frowned upon. Family and church generally exerted pressure on women to stay with their men.”

“Women were less financially independent, weren’t they? You would know better than I. I’m close to Paige’s age so we don’t have the personal recall of those times.”

“Very true, yes, very. After World War II, the men came home and took back most of the jobs which women, including my own mother, had worked during the war. Most women returned to being housewives and mothers. Not all. Some refused to give up the working world. But, in those days, woman, caught in bad marriages, who had children often didn’t have the skills to earn enough to support their children and themselves. In the 40s and 50s, not to mention before that, jobs were not so open for women, and sexual discrimination in hiring was rampant.”

“But some women did work. Didn’t they?”

“Oh sure, but, generally speaking, women who worked were secretaries, nurses, teachers, or store clerks. Those were the routine jobs for women. That was still largely true when I graduated and entered the work force. High schools largely developed women for those jobs, and being housewives. Most other job types were considered men’s work.”

“What about you? Did you work as a young married women in the, what the 70s?”

“How ‘bout a refill? There’s a big pot. I keep it on in case someone stops by, although visits from homicide sergeants are rare.” She smiled.

Barbara Davis went over to the counter and brought back a full glass carafe. “I was working when I met Paige’s father. A few years later, I retired to focus on housekeeping and raising Paige.”

“Let me guess. Teacher? You are well-educated and well-spoken.”

“Thank you for that, but no. I worked for the Central Intelligence Agency. My husband did as well. We met there. In those days, our jobs were not something we could talk about openly.”

“That sounds interesting, not to mention important. You were a trailblazing woman. I admire that. I thought about that sort of thing. FBI, CIA, something like that, but, in the end, I followed in my father’s footsteps. He was a local cop, me too. Like you, I had a child. That always changes things, for the better of course, but work-wise as well.”

“In my day, I would have envied your … latitude I guess it would be. You were able to stay in your profession. In my day, a good wife was expected to focus on her husband and children. At least that was true in my circles.”

“Did you resent that? I mean, would you have preferred to stay on the job, at the CIA, had it not been for the social pressures of the time?”

“Yes, I think so. Yes. No doubt about it. I would have. I was very good at my job. The men got to go out into the field and execute the plans I developed, but I was good at it. They always came back safely. The missions were always accomplished. But my husband expected me to be a homemaker. Then there were the pressures at work. The Agency had its point of view about proper behavior and roles for wives. That too is very different today.”

“Did you get out in the field some? Did I ask that correctly?”

“Yes, uh huh, women did some field work, me included, but not often. As I said, doing was man’s work. Some women, including me, and I felt lucky to get into it, got to plan. The how-to-pull-it-off stuff, shall we say. Rodger and the men mostly carried them to fruition.”

“You miss it?”

“Yes and no. To bring it back around to our earlier discussion. I was a woman without power, without financial independence. That became increasingly true the greater number of years I remained out of the workforce.”

“So, you held your marriage together. You sucked it up, as you referred to it a few minutes ago.” Maddie noticed Ms. Davis’s eyebrows had lowered, her fingers drawn tight against her other arm.

“I don’t mean to suggest there were no happy marriages in my day, but women did feel a greater need to hold marriages together.”

“I see lots of pictures of Paige, a couple of a man. Is that your husband?”

“No. The man in those pictures is my brother, Russell, when he was much younger. I have no pictures of Rodger. I had packed all his pictures in a box when I moved back to the States from France. Out of all those boxes, that one box never made it home. So, now, I have no pictures of Rodger.”

“Did you have a favorite one?”

“I did. I don’t know if I should describe it, but, sure, why not? After sundown, Rodger’s head often got cold. When that happened, he had an old gray herringbone Ben Hogan style golf hat he would wear. My husband also suffered from cold feet so he slept in golf socks. You know those short ones that stop at the ankle. One night, well, first I need to tell you that Rodger slept naked, so this one night before coming to bed he had on his golf socks while still wearing that hat, and nothing else. I got a picture before he knew I was taking it. Of course, that photo never got put on the mantle so to speak, but I loved that picture. It remains what I see in my mind when I think of Rodger … Did I shock you, Sergeant?”

“I love it. Thanks for sharing that story. Those kinds of moments are what cement a truly intimate relationship.”

“I recall the theme song from an old TV program, Sergeant. The show was considered rather racy in its day,
All In The Family
. As I recall, the theme song for the show was:
Those Were The Days
. The show was funny, but, as I remember it anyway, it was in part predicated on the idea that women should know their place. With humor added, it was a last glimpse of the ways things were in my day. Starting at about that point in history, the underpinnings of the man-woman relationship began changing rather rapidly.”

“Those changes, greater equality for women, more financial independence, came in part because of women like you. What you did helped advance my rights. Thank you.”

“That battle goes on, Sergeant.”

“Divorces have gotten easier. In your day there was the need to show cause. The court focused on assigning blame. Now it’s more like mutually agreeing to void a contract. The only thing messy nowadays is dividing the assets.”

“And custody of the children and their support. I trust your divorce went well on that score?”

“Pretty much. Support was granted. Although, not always paid, at least not promptly. He’s done better at that this past year or so. He’s got a new wife, a rich new wife. He tried to get custody of our son after that. Fortunately, that didn’t work. I can’t imagine life without my son.”

“I’m happy for you, Sergeant.”

“Thank you. Ms. Davis, we are trained to stay away from discussing our personal lives. I probably should not have been so candid. I hope you can consider this a personal visit, sort of off-the-job talk.”

“Of course, Sergeant, I appreciate your feeling that way.”

“So, how many years were you and Paige’s father married?”

“Close to thirty years.”

“But you’re still a young woman, Ms. Davis. What happened, divorce, like the rest of us? Well, not exactly like the rest of us. I did divorce my husband. You thought about divorce. And Paige had spoken with a divorce attorney the day before Sam was killed.”

Did she know her daughter had seen an attorney?

Ms. Davis smiled. A small, tight-lipped smile, her eyes narrowed.
She knew.

“My husband, Rodger, Rodger Davis, I’ve kept his name, was shot and killed in Paris, France, working security for the embassy. His real job was CIA officer at the embassy. The security position was cover.”

“I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect with the comment about divorce.”

Ms. Davis shrugged. “As you said, I thought about it. I didn’t get as far as talking to an attorney as you said my daughter had. One could say I got a divorce by bullet.”

You may have been great at planning, but your field skills are not so good.
After that thought, Maddie said, “It must have been tough. Being a widow, I mean, after being out of the workforce for years.”

“Pretty much. Paige and I persevered. Rodger being killed in the line of duty provided an excellent pension from the agency which started almost immediately. Without that, and the modest social security I get from my working years, I would be lost today. Fortunately, there was also a healthy life insurance policy provided by the agency.”

“Seems you’re doing just fine. Lovely home and all, good for you.”

“The home was paid off when Rodger was killed. We had a separate life insurance policy that decreased with the mortgage balance. That made a world of difference.”

“His murder ever solved?”

“No. Those things rarely were in the days of the cold war, as it was called. You know.”

Maddie nodded. “Well, I doubt I can drink anymore coffee. And I should stop cheating the city and get done some of the work they pay me to do.”

“Thank you for stopping, Sergeant. You filled in an old woman’s late morning and early afternoon. I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure, a great chat, very enjoyable.” Maddie stood up. “By the way, did you ever meet Bennie Gibbons, the boyfriend of Carla Roth who lives next door to your daughter?”

“No. I don’t believe so.” Ms. Davis’s voice had deepened when she said that. However, that may have been because she said it while rising from the kitchen chair she had been sitting in for over an hour. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason in particular. His name came up recently in our investigation. One of those loose ends we cops are always trying to tie off. After Carla and Bennie had been a hot item for several weeks, the man up and disappeared. Your daughter mentioned Carla had been looking to her for consolation this last week or so. Men, we can’t live with ‘em, we can’t live without ‘em.”

“Amen to that, Sergeant.” Ms. Davis reached out and opened her front door.

“I think Paige feels good about being able to return the favor. Carla has been such a good companion to her since Sam’s death.”