The Phantom Photographer: Murder in Marin Mystery - Book 3 (Murder in Marin Mysteries) (26 page)

“Not sure at this point, with the way he threw around his money, at least in recent years, he might have been a counterfeiter for all I know. Possibly a drug dealer, but he doesn’t fit that profile. For me, the most logical choice is extortion.”

“Why is that?”

“He ran around Mill Valley for years, photographing anyone and everyone. Perhaps he was running a little blackmailing business on the side. Snapping photos all the time is a good way to see things that were never meant to be seen.”

“You certain he wasn’t dipping into the cash coming through his employer’s business?”

“That’s possible, but if he was, he was certainly doing more than that because out of that camera shop he’d be hard pressed to embezzle enough money for a weekend trip to Disneyland. This guy was taking vacation trips half way around the globe.”

“Okay, Eddie,” Canning said, as he rose from his desk to signal their meeting was over. “Keep me posted. We both know someone scattered this guy’s brains all over for a reason. Let’s find that reason and get this story off the front page.”

With their intense routine of publishing four local editions per week, Rob was not pleased with the idea of Holly wanting two hours off on Tuesday to go with Sylvia and Ted to Michael’s service.
 

“I’ll admit that Eddie is right about you all being terrific snoops, but we’ve got a lot of work to do,” Rob pleaded.

Holly, not wanting to give up an opportunity to play detective, had a suggestion. “We usually take a one hour lunch from noon to one. This will be a little more than two hours, and we’ll work until six or until we’re done tomorrow night. Whatever it takes.”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, you can come with us!”

“Is that what you think this is about, you going off to snoop without me?” Rob said in a huff.

“It’s only a hunch, pal.”

Rob waited a beat, then said, “Okay, call Sylvia and Ted. Tell them we’ll meet outside the church tomorrow morning. By the way, what’s Eddie hoping we find out?”

“He said he’d get me more details tonight. That old bloodhound is on to the scent of something; I could tell by that nutty look he gets. You two must have been some pair growing up.”

Monday afternoon, Eddie was standing by his car, parked just outside the staff and faculty parking lot, watching the students of St. Hilary’s school flow out the front door and line up for their carpool pickups. About twenty minutes later, Juliette, looking far older than the young woman caught so many years earlier in Michael’s scandalous photographs, came walking toward her car. Ever cautious, she spotted Eddie immediately, and wondered if he was a friend of one of her colleagues.
 

“Ms. Parker?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Detective Eddie Austin with the Marin County Sheriff’s Department,” he said with a friendly smile, while flashing his badge and photo ID.

“Oh, Lord, is this about Michael Marks?”

“Yes, it is. I understand you knew him. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
 

“Follow me,” Juliette responded, somewhat mysteriously, and then got into her car and drove off.
 

She drove out to Tiburon Boulevard and turned left. A mile down, she turned right onto San Rafael Avenue as it hugs the waterfront and leads onto West Shore Drive. She pulled into the driveway of one of the homes that sits half on land and half on a pier along the eastern edge of Richardson Bay. It offered incomparable views of Sausalito to the west, San Francisco to the south, and Mt. Tam to the north.
 

“This is my home,” she said, exiting the car. “I thought we would have a lot more privacy here.”
 

Eddie thought it likely that she was the only teacher at St. Hilary’s School to live in a multi-million dollar water view home.
 

“Can I get you something to drink, Detective?”
 

“A glass of water would be great.”

“Well, for me, it’s the end of my workday, so I’m going to celebrate with a glass of white wine; sure you won’t join me?”

“I’d love to, but I have to live within the rules, no drinking on the job. And don’t think there aren’t days that I’d like to forget that rule.”

“Are you a spiritual man, Detective Austin?”

“I try. Both my wife and I were raised Catholic, but there are a lot of times we miss the mark for showing up on Sundays.”

“C and E, Christmas and Easter?”

“Some years, yes, but we have a son now, he’s five, so we go more often. Trying to set a good example. Teach him the difference between good and evil and the importance of kindness and sacrifice.”

Juliette smiled as she sat back down and took a small sip of wine.
 

There was an awkward silence for a moment, just an exchange of smiles. Eddie was about to say something when Juliette shocked him by saying, “Detective Austin, I think you’re an angel of God.”

“Really? I’ve been called a lot of things, but never that.”

“And you have a sense of humor. Well, let me tell you why. Last night when I got home, I saw that front-page picture of Michael Marks and the story of his murder. I was shocked in one sense, but in truth, not at all surprised.”

“You mean that he had been killed?”

“No, that he had not been murdered years ago.”

The air went out of Eddie’s body as he paused for a moment. “Ms. Parker, why would you say something like that?”

“Because he was a terrible, terrible man.”

“Well, I’ve wondered if that might be the case, but tell me why you think so.”

“I’m happy to tell you. It’s embarrassing, of course; most secrets are, but I want to tell you. Last night, after I read the story, a part of me felt ashamed because so often I had thought how wonderful it would be if someone killed that man and then I’d ask God’s forgiveness for holding so much hate in my heart. Last night I prayed that God would send an angel so I could share the terrible truth I’ve been holding for so many years. Today, you appeared and you found your way to me.”

“Well, I have to admit, it was a coincidence that I found my way to you.”

“How so?”

“Do you remember a Sarah Lauerman?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“She’s with the Mill Valley PD and she was the first officer on the scene Friday morning when the shooting was reported. She was a student in your fifth grade class and remembered the day Michael came to photograph you and your class.”

“You must be talking about Sarah Scott. I remember all the children in that class because they were my last class at Mt. Carmel Church School. All of them were wonderful. Some transferred to St. Hilary’s, but most went to one of the local public schools the following school year. I wonder what about Marks triggered her memory of his being in our classroom?”

“She said that she and the other girls wondered if there was something going on romantically between you two.”

“Oh, my,” Juliette said with a good laugh. “Well, she was right. Good observational skills. Perhaps Sarah was destined for law enforcement.”

“She’s a credit to her department.”

“Well, Marks was attracted to me, but that wasn’t his real reason for being there. He wanted to get an introduction to my brother-in-law, Herb Fancher, and then he showed me the pictures he had taken of the two of us, and I nearly passed out.”

“I’m guessing he wanted to extort money from your brother-in-law, am I right?”

“You are, but there’s more to the story than you can imagine, so let me start at the beginning.”

Juliette told Eddie that she was once in love with Herb. Michael had caught them in the act, she explained, although she did edit out the graphic details of their sex play.
 

“He was going to expose the photos of the two of us to our families, which of course would have been a disaster in several ways, not the least of which would have been the end of Herb’s marriage and any future relationship I might have had with my sister.”
 

She paused for a time, and Eddie, who could see she was reliving a deeply painful time, stayed silent.
 

“I cried for days over what he did. The photos were explicit. Neither I, nor my brother-in-law, could believe what he had done. He hid in the woods behind Herb’s home, and on an afternoon when my sister was attending an event in San Francisco, he caught the two of us. Herb called him a lot of names, none of which I would ever repeat. Whenever we spoke privately, the few times we did after Michael Marks’ blackmail, we simply called him, the phantom photographer. What we did was terribly wrong. Herb had taken over his father’s very successful construction business and had a lot of money. I’m sure Michael knew all that before he ever targeted us.”

“Do you know what he charged Herb to keep those photos a secret?”

“Herb was too much of a gentleman to share those details, but I got the impression it was over fifty-thousand dollars.”

Goodbye Disneyland, hello Tahiti dream vacation, Eddie thought.

“I don’t know if he ever got all that money.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, not very long after all that happened, Herb was killed.”

“What? How?”

“He died when the Nimitz Freeway collapsed during the ‘89 earthquake. You must have been a boy at that time.”

“You’re right.”

“Whether he got all that money or not is a secret that probably died with him on Friday. But I never heard from that terrible man again.”

“So your sister never knew about any of this.”

“No. She died of breast cancer two years ago. Three years after Herb died, she married a wealthy widower. He died eight years ago and left the house to her. Neither of her marriages led to children. Suzette always had other interests. I was her only sibling, and she left this house to me. I love this home, but I still feel my guilt every time I walk through that door. The Lord moves in mysterious ways.”

“I’m guessing all your parents are gone.”

“Oh, yes, all gone. There is a season, as the Bible tells us. So it’s just me in this big house with a lot of difficult memories and some lovely views,” Juliette said wistfully, as she drained the rest of her wine and looked out toward Sausalito. “I’m reasonably certain of one thing. Herb and I could not have been his only two victims. There might have been dozens of others.

“All that volunteer nonsense I read about in the
IJ
yesterday, I don’t believe any of that. Just like his coming to the school to help me document my students’ class projects; I’m sure that was just a ruse. Everything he did was with the purpose of furthering his business, I’m quite certain of that. It’s impossible to learn people’s dirty little secrets if you have no real idea who they are. The way he terrified me, he was already accomplished at the art of extortion. And that happened a long time ago.”

“Well, you’ve been incredibly helpful,” Eddie assured her, as he stood to leave.

“If I’m right about other victims, you know your list of suspects might be very long.”

“I already imagine it is, Ms. Parker.
 

Back in his car, with a pink sunset sky starting to reflect its dramatic colors onto the bay, Eddie needed a couple of moments to reflect on what he had just heard.