Death of a Bankster (22 page)

Chapter 23

“Paige Crawford is on the phone,” Sue said through the doorway into Maddie’s office. “You wanted to take the calls from anyone on our suspect list.”

“Hello, Paige. This is Maddie.”

“I saw a news item that Bennie Gibbons had been arrested. The media are supposing it has to do with my husband’s death. Carla just left here. She was … unhinged. She wanted to be sure I didn’t think she had anything to do with it, if Bennie did it. Why would Carla’s boyfriend want my husband dead?”

“As you said, the media is speculating.” Maddie looked up at Sue who had stayed. Maddie didn’t give a hand signal to leave, just a gesture to close the door, so Sue took a seat. “Are you asking me to confirm that is why Gibbons was arrested?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m asking.” Maddie nodded her head to keep Sue up to speed on Paige’s end of the conversation. “Sergeant Richards, Maddie, who has a better right to know, me or the media? Haven’t I always candidly answered your questions?” Maddie put her toe on the corner of her desk drawer as she always did when her mind was working at warp speed.

“Okay, yes, I’ll answer that, right after you candidly answer one for me.”

“Me first, eh, Sergeant? Okay. What is it?” Maddie nodded again so Sue would know.

“Paige, tell me about your father’s death in Paris, France. What the official records do not show.” Sue sat forward.

“He was shot in the head from a distance, at night on a corner under a streetlight.”

“That’s in the releases. Who was suspected? Did they pick up and question anyone? Who benefited from his death? Was he working on any case of intrigue that they believe got him killed?”

“I wasn’t in Paris when it happened. If anyone knows more, it would be my mother.”

“I’m asking you. You must have talked with your mother about this many times. You were a grown woman when it happened, and you’ve had decades to hear about it. Tell me all you know and do it now.”

“No spy shit that I know of or heard about. He was CIA station chief in Paris. Security at the embassy was cover. He did run a snitch from the Russian Embassy, but mother said the Russians knew about that and the turned agent was low level. Not the kind of thing either side killed for in the days of the Cold War. Daddy had hoped it would get him to someone higher up whom he might turn. Never happened, mother said.”

“Did the U.S. authorities pick anyone up?”

“Not that I know of and not that my mother knows of. She was there with Daddy, but did not work for the Embassy, the State Department, or the CIA. She was there as a spouse, although she knew everyone there from social stuff among the delegation and from having been an agent herself many years before. I’ve always assumed that what mom didn’t know wasn’t known by our side.”

“How were your mother and father in those days? Happy?”

“Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”

“Sure am. You were a grown woman then. You know that marriages get rocky. You and Sam for example, so why not your mother and father?”

“They came close to breaking up a short while before they went to France. Actually, Daddy called in favors to get that assignment. Mother had always wanted to live in Paris. I’m not certain, but it may have been part of how he kept her from leaving him. Like I said, I don’t know. I brought it up to mother once. She said that was the craziest thing she’d ever heard.”

“Still, you believed it?”

“Believed, I’m not that sure. Did I suspect, yes. I think my mother was seeing the shrink because of my father cheating on her while on foreign assignments without her. But my mother has never admitted that to me or anyone I’m aware of. Now, it’s your turn, Sergeant.”

“Fair ‘nuff. Bennie Gibbons was arrested as the suspected shooter of your husband. We’re pretty darn sure he is guilty. He developed a relationship with Carla to give him cover to come and go from your neighborhood. Let him observe your husband’s habits and the landscape. When he was ready or was told to carry it out, he did. Then he dropped his relationship with Carla. It had served its purpose. We are reasonably sure he was about to leave Phoenix when we apprehended him.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Maddie, I appreciate it.”

“Then show it by keeping your mouth shut. I’ll leave it up to you whether or not you tell Carla. Truth is, regardless of what I say, that will be up to you. So, let me be clear. We do not want that out now. And assuming you don’t want the media camped on your front porch and hounding you when you go to the supermarket or church, I suggest you keep it buttoned up. Even with that, the media will likely be all over a story of a shooter having an affair with the neighbor of his victim. That gets out and the media will be on you like a dog on dinner.”

When Maddie hung up, Sue’s eyes got big. Wrinkles formed on her forehead.

“Okay,” Maddie admitted, “maybe I should have stonewalled her. Like she said, who has a better right to know? Damn near everyone here in the station knows, which means the media will have confirmation within hours. With ballistics tying his gun to the shooting of Sam Crawford, he’ll be dragged before the Grand Jury to determine whether or not there is a basis for holding him over for trial. That’ll be damn near automatic. He has no ties to the community and the D.A. has enough to paint him as a professional assassin. He had false identification in his apartment. He was ready to run. If the court gives him bail, he’d act on that plan. I doubt he has a prayer for bail.”

“Professional assassins don’t kill people because they don’t like the victims. Who hired him to do it?”

“To be determined, Detective Martin. I expect that before too long we’ll have a chance to ask Mr. Gibbons about that very thing.”

Sue left Maddie’s office, reclosing the door when Maddie gave her that signal.

* * *

Maddie spun her chair three-sixty, picked up her phone and dialed. “Ryan Testler. This is Sergeant Madeline Richards. We need to talk.”

“Why so formal Maddie? We can talk anytime. Congratulations, by the way, on your fine arrest of Bennie Gibbons, without firing a shot. I can see the headlines in a few days. They’ll help build the legend of Maddie Richards:

LADY DETECTIVE SINGLE-HANDEDLY ARRESTS INTERNATIONAL ASSASSIN.

I’m proud to know you, ma’am.”

“Okay, enough butter, let’s have some meat. How did you know Gibbons was the shooter and where he was located?”

“Now I can’t be telling you all the tricks of my trade. We have to have some secrets. At least save some things for pillow talk.”

“Ryan, this is serious. What else do you know that you haven’t told me?”

“I know you looked fabulous in that yellow dress. I would’ve opened that door myself just like Gibby. Faster even.”

“You were there?”

“Uh-huh”

“Where?”

“Not important.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not. Trade secrets. Companies have a right to protect trade secrets.”

“You’re not a company.”

“Not important. But let me ask you. The barrel Gibby had just removed from his rifle, did ballistics match it up?”

“Oh. I’m supposed to answer your questions while you don’t answer mine? It doesn’t work like that where I come from.”

“Interesting. Where I come from, you’d be beholden to me. If I hadn’t tipped you, Gibby would have swapped out those barrels, keeping the rifle with the new barrel and ditching the old one. He was leaving town the next morning. He would have vanished, likely outside the U.S.”

“Yes. I owe you. The department owes you. Okay. Thanks. We only got Gibbons because of you. I admit it. Thank you, … no really, I mean it, thanks. And while I’m on the subject of thanking you, thanks for helping Brad with his slider. You blew him away. He’s so grateful.”

“That was my pleasure Maddie. He’s a fine boy. You’re a great mom. And your mother, well, Rita’s a pip. I envy you, your family’s aces. It’s filled with love. Brad told me how you read with him. He’s a little embarrassed and made me promise not to tell anyone, but he loves your doing it with him. The three of you are the essence of America.”

“Thanks, Ryan. Can I ask you something else about Gibbons?”

“Whatever I know is yours. Shoot.”

“Who hired Bennie Gibbons? He had no axe to grind with Sam Crawford. For him it was purely a paid hit.”

“Yes, Gibby was paid. He was nothing more than a hired gun.”

“Who?”

“I have no clue. I’m certain Gibby doesn’t know. He told me how he got hired and paid. Gibby’s not bright enough to ad lib off the cuff all of what he told me. He doesn’t know. Anything else, Sergeant Richards?”

“One more question. Am I going to see you again?”

“Who’s asking? Sergeant Madeline Richards or the warm and lovely Maddie?”

“Maddie. Me. I’m asking.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Good, how about dinner tomorrow night? Meet at my hotel. Whatever time you can make it. Call and tell me a time when you’ve got it figured out.”

Chapter 24

At noon the next day, Maddie met Sue in the hallway outside her office. Lieutenant Harrison drifted out of his office to join them.

Sue handed Maddie a folder. Inside she found three pictures of Gibbons at a shooting range using the same type of rifle they had found in his room.

“Where did you get these?” Maddie asked.

“I spend this morning going to a couple shooting ranges passing Gibbons picture around. I hit pay dirt. One had some film of their range and there was Mr. Gibbons, shooting.”

“I wondered where you were all morning. You should have told me what you were up to,” Maddie said before turning to Lieutenant Harrison. “Sir, Sue Martin is a crackerjack detective.” Then she turned back to Sue, “I love ya, girl.”

“Great work, Detective,” the lieutenant said while extending his hand.

Sue shook it and smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Sue, it’s time we put it to Mr. Gibbons. He’ll be taken before the grand jury this afternoon. The D.A.’s going for first degree murder unless Mr. Gibbons has something worthwhile he’s willing to trade.”

“Like who hired him?”

“Correct, Detective Martin,” Lieutenant Harrison said. “But more than just a name, proof that will allow us to nail the killer behind the shooter.” Then Harrison turned to Maddie. “Gibbons is in interrogation room one. He’s yours. I’ll be watching and listening. So far, he hasn’t lawyer’d up. I don’t know how long that will hold, but the D.A. would likely drop it down a good measure if he gives us identity and proof for a strong case of capital murder against his employer.”

“If he knows, Lieutenant.”

“Let’s not be negative. Defeat comes often enough without an invitation.”

“Yes sir. Ready, Sue?”

“Let’s do it. I figure I’m there to observe and to leave the questioning to you. Right?”

“Let’s play it that way. If you have something you feel I’ve missed or needs to be covered, give me the sign without his seeing you. I’ll call a recess for a minute and we’ll step out. Okay?”

“Okay, Sergeant, time’s a wasting.” The lieutenant stepped to the side and swung his arm to motion Maddie forward.

* * *

“Hello, Mr. Gibbons. You know who I am. This is Detective Sue Martin.” Sue held the file folder she had carried in against her chest and inclined her head slightly. Then Maddie said, “You do remember me?”

“Surely do, Missy Richards.” Bennie Gibbons moved his feet a short distance. Even that rattled the manacles that linked his feet to the steel grommet cemented into the floor. “I liked you a lot better in that yellow dress you wore to my place last night. The one cut down to your navel, damn near. Seems almost inappropriate for a detective lady to be such a fox, sure fooled me. I thought you was the real McCoy.”

His smile was charming, but he was a jerk, not to mention a killer.

“Sergeant Richards would be better now, Mr. Gibbons. No sense making things harder for yourself than need be.”

“I expected you’d be by today to chat. So what can I do fer ya, ma’am?”

“More what can I do for you, Bennie. You mind if I call you Bennie?”

“Sure, Maddie, me darlin’.”

“Okay. We’ll go with Mr. Gibbons and Sergeant Richards.”

“How ‘bout taking these manacles off my wrists? You got my feet secured. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He held his hands as high as he could, a few inches off the table top. “Don’t you agree this here’s overkill?”

Maddie ignored his request. “You’re facing a charge of first degree murder. The barrel markings from your rifle match with the bullet taken from Sam Crawford’s head. Shame on you, you shouldn’t have been so slow about changing out the barrel.”

“Sounds like you think you’ve got my hide nailed, Sergeant Richards, ma’am.”

“Given the effort to take Sam Crawford’s body and the genius, yeah absolute genius, of hiding his body in the office of the Medical Examiner, why didn’t your shooting team remove the bullet from his body? Without that, we wouldn’t have much on you.”

“That sure would ’a been smart. I agree.”

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Even if I did take the shot as you’re claiming I did, why would I want the body or give a rip where it was?”

There it is. The loose end I haven’t been able to tie down from the start. Sam Crawford was killed by an assassin smart enough to hire Bennie Gibbons to be the shooter without letting him know who hired him. An assassin smart enough to have imposters set up to play FBI agents and the medical examiner. Smart enough to arrange for those fake officials to take Sam’s body in plain sight and with the cooperation of his wife and neighbor. Smart enough to get in to search Sam Crawford’s home as boldly and openly as they had taken Sam’s body. Yet, at the same time, an assassin stupid enough to not remove the bullet from Sam Crawford’s brain before leaving him in a bag at the medical examiner’s office. Why? What benefit did they get from the risk of having Bennie Gibbons found and arrested? Sure, Gibbons would be a scapegoat, but they had to know we would realize Gibbons was incapable of masterminding such a complex scheme. The real assassin would know we would realize there had been others involved. That Gibbons was only a shooter, a dead-end, and that the case would remain open. So why did they leave the bullet in Sam’s head? The only answer could be that Bennie Gibbons had only been hired to pull the trigger. That’s all. Gibbons didn’t even know the rest of the plan. He had been that compartmentalized. The taking of the body and the searching of the house were part of something apart from the murder of Sam Crawford. Two acts independent of each other. I’m still stuck on the WHY and WHO of this murder. Why was Sam Crawford killed? And the biggest question: could Ryan Testler be the who?

My God. I’ve been in his bed. He’s been in my home. He’s played catch with my son. I’ve brought him home to meet my mother. I don’t want to believe this, but Ryan didn’t just know Bennie Gibbons, he knew where to find him. He didn’t have to help me. Or was he helping me? Maybe he wanted Gibbons caught? Maybe hoping that would wrap up the case. Is Ryan Testler behind all of it? Did he not only mastermind the assassination itself, but now is masterminding my investigation?

“Earth to Sergeant Richards.”

Maddie startled when Gibbons spoke. “What do you want, Mr. Gibbons?”

“You’ve been staring at that blank wall for several minutes, are we done here? I’ve got a warm cell waiting for me with a cockroach for company.”

“Why was Sam Crawford killed?”

“I got no clue. I never heard of the dude until you mentioned his name a few minutes ago. I’ve been in town sightseeing for a couple weeks. Met a girl, name a Carla. Hung around. It didn’t work out. I found the rifle in a lot not far from Carla’s house. I was in the military. Knew what it was, so I brought it back home. Next thing I know, you come around in your hot hooker outfit, busted in and handcuffed me.”

Maddie turned to Sue who opened the folder she had in her hand since they came in, took out three pictures and slid them across the table in front of Bennie Gibbons.

“You notice the time and date stamp on them. These were taken at the range where you shoot.” It had been the same one to which Maddie had followed Paige’s mother. The same range where Barbara Davis met her brother for one of their shooting outings. The range where Barbara Davis and Rusty had clammed up whenever Maddie’s former partner, Jed Smith, had moved close enough to hear anything.

“So? The pictures are of me. Okay. Shooting’s legal.”

“Not shooting people. You’re using the same rifle there that you used to shoot Sam Crawford. The same one ballistics used to confirm it as the murder weapon.”

“So, I had the same kind of weapon. So what? When I found the newer one, I threw out my older one. No biggie.”

Maddie slid her butt over the end of the table nearest the one-way mirror, the one through which they were all being observed by Lieutenant Adam Harrison.

“Now that’s lame, Gibbons. Here’s what a jury will believe. You were a sniper in the military. You have no visible means of support, yet you live modestly well. That nearly thirty-five-thousand dollars in cash was found in your apartment. You were photographed shooting a specific make and model of rifle at a local range. A few days later that exact type of weapon was used by someone to murder Sam Crawford. That Mr. Crawford just happened to live next door to a woman you were dating up until the day before the murder. That you later found a matching rifle in a field near that same woman’s home, and that you then threw away the matching rifle you had owned prior to the murder and kept the found murder weapon. And that you don’t remember where you threw away the one you owned previous to all this. And you can’t explain where the large amount of cash you had came from other than to claim you won it gambling at a couple of local Indian casinos. Mr. Gibbons, no jury will buy that pile of manure. You’re going to do serious time.

“Your only avenue to mitigate your circumstances is to tell me, right now, who hired you to murder Sam Crawford. If you do, I’ll talk to the D.A. before he hauls your ass in front of the Grand Jury later today under a charge of first degree murder. See if we can soften that a bit for you. But we need time to proof up your story, so now is the time to tell us who hired you.”

Maddie got up and moved around behind Bennie Gibbons. Sue Martin moved over to stand beside Maddie. They remained quiet. Bennie Gibbons sat still mostly, raised his hands some, and rattled his leg irons now and then.

Five minutes later, he said, “Sergeant Richards.”

Maddie and Sue moved around in front of Gibbons, remained quiet, and stared at his face.

“Sergeant Richards, all I can tell you is no one hired me to kill Sam Crawford or anyone else. I know nothing about this shooting. I want a lawyer. Don’t want to talk no more until after that.”

Five minutes later, Bennie Gibbons was back in his cell and Maddie and Sue were in the office of Lieutenant Harrison. “Well, Sergeant, what do you think happened in there?”

“For my money, we confirmed Bennie Gibbons was the shooter. I don’t think he knows anything more. He was hired blind, probably got enough money on the front end that he was willing to take the shot. Maybe he got the rest of his money, maybe he didn’t. He’s left with no other tack now. I think he gets convicted and serves his time, but he’s got nothing to bargain with.”

“That was my take as well. Bennie Gibbons is too dumb by a long measure to put together all of what happened the night of the shooting.”

They all nodded in agreement. “You got any ideas on who your anonymous caller was who pointed you toward Bennie Gibbons and where we could pick ‘im up?”

“Not at this point, Lieutenant.” Maddie didn’t like lying to Adam Harrison, a man she respected, but she just wasn’t ready to give up Ryan Testler’s name. However, that might change later tonight.