A Motor for Murder (Veronica Margreve Mysteries Book 1) (11 page)

19

In the evening, I decided to tie up some loose ends by tackling another angle of this mystery. George took out $5K in cash and likely gave it to someone the day of the party. Who? I thought about it, did a couple of internet searches, took a wild guess and called Stan.

“You sold George something, didn’t you?”

“Want are you taking about? It was just investments.”

“Your house went to foreclosure, your marriage is apparently heading for divorce, and you are taking this opportunity to convert some of your assets into cash before your soon-to-be-ex-wife notices. And I do mean cash – you had asked George to pay you in cash so that the money wouldn't show up in any accounts, didn't you?”

Stan didn’t say anything. I could hear him breathing into the phone.

“Didn’t you?” I repeated. As the silence stretched, I was starting to fidget and lose confidence in my guess. To prevent myself from losing faith in my idea, I pressed on.

“He paid you around 5 grand in cash during the party. Isn’t that right?”

I heard something like a door closing on the other end of the phone. He probably moved to another room.

“Yes.” He finally exhaled into the phone.

“What did you sell him?”

“Collectible Cuban cigars. 20 years old. Very rare.”

I sat back in my chair. Wow. I would not have thought about that. But it was plausible – I did see George smoke a cigar during the party. And I recalled seeing a humidor in the corner of his office.

“How did you bring them to the house?” I was genuinely curious. I was thinking that, for such refined rarities, taking them out of a humidor where they undoubtedly normally reside might negatively impact their taste and balance. I also wanted to check whether Stan had considered it – if he was telling the truth, either he or George would have thought about the best transportation for the cigars.

“I have a portable humidor. I came into his office and we put the cigars into his humidor.”

“Do you have a big collection?”

“Oh yeah. My ex-wife-to-be doesn’t really pay attention to it and doesn’t know what it is worth.” Very few people outside of cigar aficionados would count up all the cigars stored in a humidor and try to guess at their value. And it would be easy to explain away the disappearance of a box of cigars as having been smoked or shared with friends during a celebration or watching a football game. This was not an asset that divorce attorneys would really track – but a sizable collection of rarities (just as with wine) could bring in a steady influx of cash. Money that would not shown up on any communal accounts, and would represent a nice tax free “nest egg” for Stan.

“How did you get them originally?”

“I got them in the 90s, through Canada. I’ve kept them in my humidor at home ever since, in perfect conditions. Those things would be such lovelies.”

“Was this the first part of your collection that you sold to George?”

“No, the second. The first was a month ago.”

“Did George have a big cigar habit?”

“I don’t know whether he smoked more than one a week. He was stockpiling them, I think. I do have some nice stuff, very rare, and I was willing to let it go for cheap if paid in cash.”

“Did George pay you all in cash?”

“Yeah. I still have the money. If need be, police can match the numbers with the bills that George got when he withdrew them.”

He was silent again, and I was thinking about his admission. Yes, it might have been the same money, but it didn't prove that Stan didn’t kill George to get it. But really, $5K by itself wasn't enough money for Stan to kill George over.

Finally he said:

“So you see, I would be an idiot to kill George. He was giving me cash when I needed it, he was a steady buyer for my cigar collection. Hurting him in any way would be a really stupid move on my part.” His voice was rising, there was panic in it. He didn’t seem like a premeditated murderer to me.

As I wrapped up the call, it struck me was how many people had gone into George’s office that night: Stan, Paul, Kevin, Wayne. Their reasons for going there (with possible exception of Wayne’s) all swirled around money. I wondered whether having people ask you for money all the time went hand in hand with being rich.

I called Rita back and left a message that it was Stan that the money was intended for. Then I called Detective Davis and told him what I knew about Stan Greenwich being in George Ellis’s office that night. He was gruff and didn’t sound too pleased with my findings. Prior to the call, I was internally debating whether to tell him about Roger’s disappearance. I did feel a sense of accomplishment over what I found out in the evening. Now, Detective Davis’s tone wounded me. In a fit of pique, I decided that I would not tell him about Roger being gone from home.

20

I thought again about what Rita had told me; and the conversation I overheard between Caitlin and George by the pool that night. Something was bothering me about the situation. Something that the stress of the events was not yet allowing me to see.

I walked into the kitchen and made myself more herbal tea. Getting out a mug, I left the upper cabinet door open, and Bitty got into the kitchen cabinets and was exploring the high shelves. She liked being there, viewing everything from above, undoubtedly feeling superior to her lowly minion, i.e. me. I watched her weave gracefully between stacks of plates – being so small, she found plenty of space in there –, as I continued to think.

Then I realized what had bothered me – the fact that Caitlin was invited to the party in the first place. I could not believe Rita would allow Caitlin to come to the party if her husband has had an affair with her in the recent past. No matter that Caitlin was his assistant at the dealership.

Unless – Rita was unaware that Caitlin was coming? I had not seen Rita and Caitlin interact together during the party in any way, so I couldn’t judge whether the girlfriend’s presence was a surprise to the wife; or whether there was an open or suppressed animosity or resentment between them. (In fact, I realized that after the initial house tour and until the death occurred, I spent my time talking to other people and didn’t see Rita or George at the party at all, and only heard George’s voice in the conversation with Caitlin.)

If George had suspected that Rita knew about the affair, wouldn’t he un-invite Caitlin? And in the snippet of the conversation that I heard between the lovers that night, despite all of George’s frustration, there was no admonishment to stay out of Rita's sight.

What if Rita didn’t know about George’s affair before the party? What if their previous fighting was for other reasons altogether? For instance, his drinking – she had mentioned that she had been unhappy about it and that they had argued over it. She said he convinced her to work on their marriage and go to therapy – that sounded plausible enough. But would Rita be throwing a house-warming party under those circumstances? Maybe – if she wanted to show her commitment to the marriage and the life together with George. However, would he go along with the party if he was still seeing Caitlin, and knowing that she was an invited guest?

What if Rita only found out about the affair for sure during the party?

During our conversation, she mentioned Caitlin asking George for something at their house. I had not told her that I heard the fight. Perhaps Rita had overheard it herself? Standing by the patio wall, in the shadows? Or even like me, curled up small in one of the big chairs?

In that case, she had a new motive to kill her husband that night. In the rage of discovery of betrayal, she might have gone into his office and done him in.

The story she told me about how she discovered the affair might have been partially true – something similar probably had happened to make her suspect that he was having an affair. Perhaps a message from Caitlin did come in late in the evening, and she recognized the text message sound; but couldn't know what was in the message.

Alternatively, if Rita knew about the affair with Caitlin, but didn’t expect Caitlin to show up at the party, she and George could have had a big fight about it that night, perhaps ending in his death.

And speaking of the party: why did Rita invite me to the party in the first place, after we had not talked for several years? She needed a friend by her side in the aftermath of George’s death. Was this all pre-planned on her part? Was she manipulating me throughout all this, to try to dis-prove the police case against her by finding another likely suspect? I had been flattering myself and my deductive skills, of course. I had not found a credible suspect – or I found too many suspects, depending on how you look at it. My gullible and feeble detective opinion would not have much sway over the police, in any case.

OK, this was getting crazy. Enough. Both of my suppositions about Rita could not be true at the same time: she could not have pre-planned this and had a new revelation send her into a fit of rage during the house-warming. I was going round in circles.

But the circumstantial case against Rita looked stronger and stronger.

And what about the physical case? George was not a big man, slim and slightly taller than me. Rita was about my size, and I knew that she had for years waited tables, carrying heavy and awkward things around. In acro yoga classes at the Knotty yoga studio, I had seen even small women lifting slightly bigger guys in the air. So, physically, she could have committed the crime.

I didn’t know what to do. Going to the police with my suspicions seemed like a sure way to get her arrested. And I was not ready to do that yet. Going to Rita herself? She had already told me she didn’t have an alibi. What could she say, even with all my willingness to believe in her innocence, that would prove to me that she didn’t kill George? Should I go to her lawyer with this info?

Another thing that still bothered me was that she likely lied to me originally. Why? Probably she thought that her discovery of proof of the affair that night would be an irrefutable motive (and she would be right). And she didn’t tell me about the affair in the first place, until she left she had to give an explanation for Roger’s disappearance and his note.

On the other hand, technically, she didn’t need to tell me about the affair even then. Roger’s note didn’t mention it explicitly. She could have come up with another explanation for his suddenly taking off. Like, chalking it up to the stress of murder and the subsequent investigation. Why, then, did she tell me about George and Caitlin? Probably several reasons, I decided: if she wasn’t the killer, she was likely genuinely interested in finding who killed George, and thought that more info would help me; telling things that are as close to the truth as possible made life much simpler, especially if one was under any kind of strain; and she was feeling vindictive towards Caitlin and couldn’t keep it inside any more.

I had previously thought that I would find out who did it and set everything right. I seemed to be far away from it now. Progress has stalled, and I felt like I was going round-and-round in my head, thinking of possible suspects and motives, abandoning them for seemingly more-compelling ones, but unable to discard my previous ideas, and coming back to them later. And I didn’t like how my suspicions were shaping up. I decided to go to bed.

Bitty balanced on my shoulder as I was laying on my side in bed, trying to sleep. She got comfy, then started purring loudly. That sound wasn't helping me fall asleep. I tried to toss and turn carefully, without throwing her off of me, but that disturbed and woke her up, and she shifted, re-adjusted and started purring again. I held still in the darkness and listened to her noises.

21 

I was sitting in a very plush off-white leather chair, and sipping a white tea, made from young leaves collected at midnight during a full moon on a mountaintop in the misty reaches of south-east China. In front of me on the low glass coffee table was a beautiful white orchid in a white ceramic (maybe Japanese, I thought) pot. Next to it, esthetically arranged in a semi-circle, were glossy recent issues of Architectural Digest, The Art Collector, Vogue, Saveur. I might have imagined soft music playing. Even the air seemed to smell expensive.

It looked, felt and sounded like a high-class spa, and made me want to kick off my shoes, close my eyes, and be pampered with ridiculously-expensive high-class amenities. On opening my eyes, I remembered that in actuality, I was in Teresa’s office in an office tower above the Bellevue skyline. A quick internet search showed her to be one of the top criminal lawyers in Washington State – just like her husband John was one of the top estate planning lawyers, with his office on the lower floor of the downtown Bellevue tower.

I was in Teresa’s waiting room on Thursday because I thought I could try to get an idea of the case against Rita from the lawyer, without disclosing much of my own knowledge.

A female assistant in her mid-twenties, in black glasses, white shirt, beige pencil skirt and “nude”-colored shoes came out from the inner door, smiled and said to me “Please come on in.” As I went into the office, she leaned to re-arrange the magazines on the glass coffee table.

Inside the modern office, Teresa rose and I extended her hand when I came in.

“Hello, Veronica! How are you? This is about Rita, isn’t it?” She was wearing another avant-garde fashion creation in grey – something that on me would look hopelessly out of place, but enveloped her in effortless chic. Behind her there was a view of greenery and mountains on the horizon, all the way out to the Olympic peninsula. She gestured to a chair by her desk and I sat down. The chair, in black leather here, was like the office itself – understatedly luxurious and looking very expensive.

“Yes, it is. I wanted to talk to you. She said you are her attorney in this.” Teresa nodded. “George’s death is so terrible.” I continued. “And Rita told me the police suspect her. I wanted to help in any way I could.”

Teresa nodded again. “Yes, the situation is tragic and very upsetting. To her and to everyone.”

“If I may ask – what is your plan of action?”

“To cooperate with the police to find the perpetrator.”

“What about – are there ... any steps to take for Rita?”

“Well, she has not been charged with anything. They don’t have enough evidence to charge her. There is nothing to do. And, let’s not forget – she’s innocent.” She gave me a professional reassuring smile, and I smiled back.

“Yes, she is innocent. But it seems the police keep focusing on her motive. All that money that George had!” I was trying to probe how precarious Rita's position actually was.

“As I said, they do not have enough evidence to charge her. Motive or no motive.” That was a relief.

“People keep saying that it doesn’t look good for her, and it’s making me worried!” Yes, Vinay's comment about how Rita’s position looked – even before the recent revelations about her husband’s affair – made me seriously concerned for her. What he said might be an opinion shared by many. “The detectives could still question her and hope she cracks, just like on TV!”

Teresa raised a corner of an eyebrow. “They could question her and hope she said something self-incriminating. But I would be there to advise her.”

“Of course, you’d help her if she’s brought in!” I paused and then pretended I had thought of another piece of possible evidence.

“What about any concrete things – like fingerprints in the office or on the door handle?”

“I am guessing the police haven’t found any usable ones. I would expect lots of fingerprints on the office door, all smudged. Many different people went into the office during the normal family life. I don’t think the fingerprints would be useful at all.”

I leaned in closer and lowered my voice.

“Who do you think did it?” I was playing dumb on purpose, presenting myself as a socially-awkward engineer who keeps asking embarrassing questions.

“I can’t speculate on that.” She clasped her hands in front of her on the desk. My eyes followed the line of a delicate silver bracelet on her left wrist. It matched a miniature charm hanging from her neck.

“It was all so tragic and unexpected! And at a crowded party! You yourself were there, with your husband.” Teresa was likely wondering what I was getting at. “It just … makes me uncomfortable, just thinking back to it. So many people can be suspects.” I was playing up my naivete for all it was worth. “And not all of them even knew George! Like me – I met him for the first time that night.”

Teresa continued looking at me, her black eyes non-committal and unreadable.

“I would have thought that a lot of other people who knew George well would make more-likely suspects. I wonder whether the police have even investigated them.” I continued.

“I am sure the police are doing their job. I cannot speculate on any other suspects they may have.” she repeated. I looked at her delicate beautifully-manicured hands, with dark-red nail polish and a ring on each hand.

“Like Stan, George's former business partner. He told me he went up to the office to talk to George, before Paul went up there. I wonder if he is telling the truth. And his reason for going is flimsy, if you ask me.”

Teresa frowned in what looked like disapproval. It made me think that her perfect wrinkle-free skin was not assisted by Botox. “You talked to Stan and asked him about this?” I heard an implied accusation in her words.

“I just wanted to help Rita!”

“I’m sure she appreciated the sentiment, but that is probably not the wisest course of action. Please leave the investigations to the police.” I imagined I could almost see her rolling her eyes at my eagerness.

For a second I thought that Rita did not share with Teresa that she had asked me to help find who did it. But then I remembered that John had told me that Rita had let him know. It made no sense that she would keep it from Teresa, who was her lawyer in a murder case. It must be that Teresa really disapproved of my actions. Well, I guess my “naive” act was working, at least! Aloud, I said:

“So you don’t think Rita is in any danger of being arrested for this?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Her voice was still pleasant, but sounded “final”, like this was my cue to exit.

“Well, that is a relief.” I continued playing dumb (but was actually re-assured that the criminal lawyer thought that), and Teresa was watching me.

I decided to press my luck a bit.“What if someone is trying to frame Rita? Like, what happens if she is arrested for this? Can someone else profit from her being suspected, and get the estate that way?”

She didn't like the question, but still answered. “If she is found liable for the death in a civil case, then the money would by-pass Rita and would go to her heirs according to the terms of her will.”

That confirmed my earlier thinking. I assumed that the beneficiaries would be Roger and Rita’s parents, who lived in California.

“What if there was any agreement between George and someone else, involving money – would that be binding to any heirs?”

“It would depend on how that agreement was written.” OK, that didn't shed any new light on whether Paul was really worse off with George’s death.

“I'm worried. I mean, it's been more than a week and there doesn't seem to be any progress.” I almost whined, imploringly. “Could anyone else be arrested for this right now? With the evidence as it is?”

“I am not sure what you mean.”

“Well, you said the police didn't have enough evidence to arrest Rita. If they don’t discover any new evidence, could they arrest anyone else?” I was thinking of Roger.

She shook her head “No, not at this time”.

Teresa looked at me, then not-so-subtly at a big clock on the wall to the right, that seemed like it was designed by Armani especially for power-lawyers’ offices – all minimalist color pallet of black, grey and white, fluid graceful lines and brushed metal. A lot of stuff in that office reminded me of metal.

“Well, my next appointment is in 2 minutes. I am afraid I will need to cut this short now.”

I could not think of anything else to ask her that would give me any new information, so I got up and extended my hand to her and said enthusiastically:

“Well, thank you for putting my mind at ease about Rita not being in danger of arrest! And thank you so much for your time!”

I looked at her as I was leaning in and shaking her hand. As I was gathering up my things before leaving, I realized that the silver charm around Teresa’s neck was a shark.