Detective (44 page)

From behind, they heard hurried
footsteps as Francesco

DETECTIVE 367

Vazquez appeared. He announced
breathlessly, "Mrs. Davanal's in the
TV studios WBEQ! They just announced
she'll go on the air at eight o'clock
to talk about her husband's death."

"That's in three minutes," Ainslie
said. "Where can we watch?"

"Follow me," Mrs. Vazquez
instructed, and the others fell in
behind as she led the way along a
corridor and into a home theater,
elaborately equipped. A giant
television screen covered most of one
wall. Francesco Vazquez moved to a
control panel, which he manipulated,
and a picture appeared the conclusion
of a commercial accompanied by
striking surround sound. A graphic
followed WBEQ The Morning News then
a woman news reader at a desk, who
announced, "Exclusive to WBEQ an
important revelation about the death,
believed to have been murder, of
Byron Maddox-Davanal. Here is Mrs.
Felicia Maddox-Davanal, managing
director of this station."

A fast cut revealed a close-up of
Felicia's face. It was strikingly
beautiful. Ainslie guessed a makeup
artist had helped. Her expression was
serious.

In the home theater, Mrs. Vazquez
gestured to two rows of armchairs.
"You can sit down."

"No, thanks," Ainslie said. He and
Rodriguez remained standing, the
Vazquezes with them.

In a clear and level voice, looking
directly into the camera, Felicia
began, "I am here, in humility and
with remorse, to make a public
confession and apology. The
confession is that my husband, Byron
Maddox-Davanal, was not murdered, as
I and others, at my urging claimed.
Byron died by his own hand; he
committed suicide. He is dead, and
neither guilt nor blame can any
longer be attached to him.

368 Arthur Halley

"Yet both of those things guilt
and blame can and must attach to me.
Until this moment of truth I have
lied about the manner of my
husband's death, have deceived
friends and family, made untrue
statements to the media and police,
concealed evidence, and created
false evidence. I do not know what
penalty I will pay for this.
Whatever it is, I shall accept it.

"My friends, fellow citizens of
Miami, the police, and TV viewers I
apologize to you all. And now,
having made this confession and
apology, I will tell you why
misguidedly I acted as I did."

Ainslie breathed to Rodriguez,
"The bitch has outflanked us again."

"She knew Holdsworth would break,"
Rodriguez murmured, "so she did this
before we could get to her.''

Ainslie grimaced. "She'll come out
of this smelling like spring
flowers."

Karina Vazquez said, "You'd have
to get up extra early to outsmart
Mrs. Davanal."

Felicia was continuing, her voice
more subdued, but clear. "From my
earliest youth, sharing the views of
others in my family, I have regarded
suicide as something shameful an act
of cowardice to escape
accountability, leaving others to
clean up the mess left behind. The
exception, of course, is when
someone wants to end the terrible
pain of terminal illness. But that
was not the case in the death of my
husband, Byron Maddox-Davanal.

"Our marriage and I must continue
to be honest was not, in all its
parts, fulfilling. To my great
sadness I have no children . . ."

Watching and listening, Ainslie
wondered how much advance
preparation Felicia had done. Though
her words sounded spontaneous, he
doubted that they were. She might
even be using a TelePrompTer; there
had been time

DETECTIVE 369

for any script to be copied, and she
did, after all, control the TV
station.

"Something I must make clear,"
Felicia was now saying, "is that no
blame whatever attaches to anyone
other than me. A member of my
household staff even urged me not to
do what I did. Unwisely, I ignored
his advice, and I want him
especially not to be blamed in any
way . . ."

"She's letting Holdsworth off the
hook," Rodriguez murmured.

"I do not know," Felicia continued,
"what problems real or
imagined caused my husband to end
his life . . ."

"She knows damn well," Rodriguez
gilded.

Ainslie turned away. "We're wasting
time here," he said. "Let's go."

Behind them, as they walked away,
they could hear Felicia's voice.

From his desk at Homicide, Ainslie
phoned Curzon Knowles.

"Yes, I watched the lady," the
lawyer said in response to Ainslie's
question. "If there was an Emmy
category for 'Real-Life Hypocrisy,'
she'd be a shoo-in."

"You think others will agree?"

"Nope. Apart from cynical
prosecutors and cops, everyone else
will believe she's fine and noble a
Davanal royal at work."

"What about any charges?"

"You're joking, of course."

"I am?"

"Malcolm, the only thing you've got
on this woman is that she gave false
information to a police officer and
impeded an investigation both
misdemeanors. But as for taking her
to court, especially with her being
a Davanal

370 Arthur Halley

and having the best lawyers money
can suborn, no prosecutor here would
touch it. And in case you're
wondering, I went upstairs and
talked with Adele Montesino. She
agrees."

"So we let Holdsworth go, then?"

"Of course. Let no one suggest
American law isn't a level playing
field for the rich and the
not-quite-so-rich. I'll cancel the
arrest warrant."

"You sound skeptical about our
systems, counselor."

"It's an ongoing disease I've
developed, Malcolm. If you hear of
a cure, let me know."

Which appeared to end the
Maddox-Davanal case, except for two
postscripts. One was a phone message
for Ainslie, asking him to call Beth
Embry.

As promised, he had kept Beth
informed of developments, with the
understanding that her source would
not be revealed, though so far
nothing with her by-line had
appeared in print. In returning her
call, he asked why.

"Because I've become an old softy
instead of what I used to be a
let-the-shit-fall-where-it-may
reporter," she told him. "If I wrote
about why Byron killed himself, I'd
have to describe his gambling debt
to the mob, which wouldn't matter,
but also the name of the girl he got
pregnant, and she's a nice kid who
doesn't need it. Incidentally, I
want you to meet her."

"You know that Felicia lied when
she said she didn't know why Byron
killed himself."

"Felicia's definition of truth is
what portion of it suits her at the
moment," Beth acknowledged. "Now,
about the girl. She has a lawyer,
and I think you know her Lisa Kane."

"Yes, I do." Ainslie liked Kane.
She was young and intelligent, and
often served as a public defender.
The difference with Kane was that
despite the small fee public

DETECTIVE 371

defenders received, she would go the
extra mile and work to the limit for
her clients.

"Could you meet her tomorrow?"

Ainslie agreed he would.

Lisa Kane was thirty-three, looked
ten years younger, and some days as
if she were still in high school. She
had short red hair, a cherubic face
with no makeup, and was dressed, when
she met Ainslie, in jeans and a
cotton T-shirt.

Their rendezvous was a small,
dilapidated apartment block, three
stories high, in Miami's
crime-notorious Liberty City. Ainslie
had come alone in an unmarked police
car, Lisa in a vintage Volkswagen
bug.

"I'm not sure why I'm here," he
said. In fact, curiosity had brought
him.

"My client and I need some advice,
Sergeant," Lisa answered. "Beth said
you'd be able to give it." She moved
to a stairway and they climbed to the
third floor, avoiding garbage and
animal droppings, and emerged on a
balcony with crumbling cement and
rusty railings. Lisa stopped at a
door halfway along and knocked. It
was opened by a young woman, probably
in her early twenties. Taking in her
two visitors, she said, "Please come
in."

Inside, Lisa announced, "This is
Serafine . . . Sergeant Ainslie."

"Thank you for coming." The girl
put out her hand, which Ainslie took,
at the same time looking around him.

In contrast to the squalid
exterior, the small apartment was
spotless and gleaming. The furniture
was a mixture. Several pieces a
bookcase, twin side tables, a
reclining chair looked expensive; the
rest was of poorer quality, but all
well cared for. A glimpse into
another room revealed the same.

372 Arthur Halley

And then there was
Serafine attractive, poised, dressed
in a flowered T-shirt and blue
leggings, her brown eyes regarding
Ainslie gravely. She was black and,
it was evident, several months
pregnant.

"I'm sorry about the way things
are outside," she said, her voice
deep and soft. "Byron wanted me
to..." Abruptly, shaking her head,
she stopped.

Lisa Kane took over. "Byron wanted
to find a better place for Serafine,
but other things got in the way."
Then, gesturing, "Let's sit down."

When they were seated, Serafine
spoke again, looking directly at
Ainslie. "I'm carrying Byron's
children. You probably know that."

"Children ? "

"My doctor told me yesterday. It's
twins." She smiled.

"There's some background," Lisa
said. "Byron Maddox-Davanal and
Serafine met because she was sup-
plying him with drugs. She and I met
when I got her off a
drug-trafficking charge with
probation. She's clean now, the
probation's over, and Byron was off
drugs months before he died; he was
never a heavy user."

"I'm ashamed, though," Serafine
said. She glanced toward Ainslie,
then turned her eyes away. "When it
happened, I was desperate. . ."

"Serafine has a four-year-old son,
Dana," Lisa continued. "She was an
unmarried mother, without support,
couldn't find a job, and around here
there aren't many ways to get money
for food . . ."

"I see it all the time." Ainslie's
tone was understanding. "So how does
Maddox-Davanal fit in?"

"Well, I guess you could say that
he and Serafine responded to each
other; somehow they filled each
other's needs. Anyway, Byron started
coming here to get away from his
other life, and Serafine weaned him
off drugs;

DETECTIVE 373

she never did any herself. Maybe it
wasn't love, but whatever it was
worked. Byron had some money,
apparently not much, but enough to
help. He bought some things" Lisa
motioned around her "gave Serafine
money for food and rent, and she
quit selling drugs."

Sure, Byron had money,
Ainsliethought. You can't imagine
how much.

"And of course they had sex," Lisa
added.

Serafine broke in. "I didn't plan
to get pregnant, but something went
wrong. When I told Byron, he didn't
seem to mind, said he'd take care of
things. He was worried about
something else, though, really
worried, and one time he talked
about being caught in a rat trap. It
was right after that he stopped
coming."

"We're talking about a month ago,
and the money stopped, too," Lisa
said. "That's when Serafine called
me for help. I tried phoning the
Davanal house, but couldn't get
Byron and he didn't return my calls.
I thought okay, so I went to see
Haversham and . . . you know, 'We
the People.' "

Ainslie did know. The prestigious
Haversham law firm had so many
important partners that its full
title on a letterhead occupied two
lines. It was also well known that
the firm represented most of the
Davanal interests. "Did you get some
result?'' he asked.

"Yes," Lisa answered, "and it's why
we need your advice."

The Haversham law firm, it emerged
from Lisa's recounting, was smart
enough to take an unknown young
lawyer seriously, treating her with
respect. She met with a partner
named Jaffrus, who listened to her
story, then promised to investigate
her client's complaint. A few days
later, Jaffrus

374 Arthur Halley

called Lisa and arranged another
meeting, which, as it turned out,
took place about a week before Byron
MaddoxDavanal's suicide.

"They didn't futz around," Lisa
now told Ainslie. "It was obviously
confirmed that Byron was
responsible, so Haversham's agreed
to financial support for Serafine,
but under one condition: the Davanal
name must never, ever, be used in
connection with her child, and
there'd be a means to guarantee
that."

"What kind of means? What
guarantee?" Ainslie asked.

Serafine, Lisa explained, would
have to certify under oath, in a
legal document, that her pregnancy
resulted from fertilization in a
sperm bank, with an anonymous donor.
Documentation would then be obtained
from a genuine sperm bank to confirm
the arrangement.

"Probably after a big donation,"
Ainslie said. "And how much money
would there be for Serafine?"

''Fifty thousand a year. But
that's before we knew about her
twins."

"Even for one child, it isn't
enough."

"That's what I thought. It's why I
need your advice. Beth said you'd
been around the family and you'd
know where we should aim."

Serafine had been listening
intently. Ainslie asked her, "How do
you feel about the sperm-bank
thing?"

She shrugged. "All I care is that
my children get to live someplace
better than this and have the best
education. If I have to sign a piece
of paper to do it, even if it's not
true, okay. And I don't care about
the Davanal name. Mine's just as
good maybe better."

"What is your last name?"

"Evers. You know it?"