Death Vetoes The Chairman (Lizzie Crenshaw Mysteries Book 7) (21 page)

“But the picture here shows fresh injuries,” T.J. remarked.

“That was the first time he assaulted her,” Garth said. “He wanted to make love, and she politely declined.”

“That didn’t go over well, I’m sure,” I said.

“No, it didn’t,” Garth agreed. “He beat her, and then had his way with her. He took her to the hospital, and according to their records, she wouldn’t let them do a rape kit, and she wouldn’t file charges.”

“Good God,” I said, sitting down in a nearby chair.

“How many women are we talking about here?” Owen said.

Micha turned around, tapped a few keys on the keyboard, and pulled up a spreadsheet. “Over the last twenty years, at least seventy-five women.” She turned to face me. “You’re number seventy-six.”

“And Edward Winthrop paid off all those women?” I said incredulously.

“Not all of them,” Garth said. “Even though they all filed charges, Ethan and his father made it nearly impossible for them to find a lawyer to take their case. Edward’s reach is very wide, and if enough pressure is applied, you can make anything go away. A well-placed article in the newspaper, and suddenly, you’re a social pariah. Eventually, a majority of the women moved away, or simply wanted to get on with their lives. It just wasn’t worth having their whole lives destroyed.”

“But you’re the exception to the rule,” Micha pointed out. “According to their phone records, there were a lot of calls going back and forth between Texas and Virginia. I can just imagine what was said.”

“Ethan was told to make the problem go away,” I said. “What about his high school years?”

“That’s a bit more difficult,” Micha said. “Juvenille records are sealed, and not even my magic fingers could get us those files.”

“Sage mentioned that there was one woman who moved to Dallas, Marie Erickson.”

Micha wrote the name down. “Anyone else?”

“As much as I hate to say this, we need to look for the other victims, and then check their alibis,” I said. “There has to be a way we can find out without disrupting their lives too much.”

“We could ask Sheriff McDonald,” Garth said. “I’m not sure how cooperative he will be, but given the circumstances, we might be able to get some information from him.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Owen replied. “We do our best to protect assault victims to keep their attackers from finding them if they move away.”

“What if we ask Kassandra or Sage?” I suggested. “They mentioned being part of a support group.”

“I think they will be greatly offended if you suggest that a member of the group could have killed Ethan, as well as attacking you and Jake,” Garth said.

“What if we perused Edward’s bank accounts?” Micha said. “If he paid off most of the victims, there has to be some kind of trail. A check, or even a transfer to another account.”

“Good luck getting a search warrant for that,” Owen replied.

“Who needs a warrant?” she grinned.

“I do NOT need to hear this,” Owen said. “I’m an officer of the law, even if I’m in a different state.”

“Hear what?” Micha said with an innocent look on her face. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I think we need to talk to Edward,” I said.

“What? Why?” T.J. said.

“Like I said last night, it’s too much of a coincidence that our accident happened right after we had dinner with him. My gut tells me he’s involved.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” T.J. shook his head.

“Why? Afraid I’m going to strangle him in front of witnesses?”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

“I can barely move, T.J. Trust me, I don’t have the strength to wring his neck. Although, the idea of shooting him in the knee to get him to talk is an intriguing idea.”

The men just looked at me, but Micha laughed. “Olivia is going to like you,” she said.

“Who’s Olivia?”

“Just another member of our group; you probably won’t meet her. She would definitely approve of your idea.”

“Ah. Well, let’s get a hold of Edward. Garth, why don’t you call him, but don’t mention that I’m going to be there,” I told him. “Tell him that Patricia would like to see him at the house.”

“I strongly suggest that we have McDonald there with us,” Garth replied. “We don’t want Edward to claim later that we beat anything out of him.”

As we got ready to leave, I made one more suggestion. “We need to check out Kassandra Sherwood and Sage Kingsley, too.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“There were only five people who knew what Ruthdale Simpkins said to Jake and I the day she was murdered: Ruthdale, Jake, me, Kassandra and Sage. The only people we mentioned it to before she died were the other two.”

“So you think one of them talked to someone else and told them what Ruthdale said,” T.J. said.

I nodded. “Whoever they talked to didn’t want Ruthdale to tell anyone else about Ethan’s alibi the day Jessica died.”

“But that also puts Kassandra and/or Sage at risk as well,” Garth said. “And we don’t know that Mrs. Simpkins was killed because of what she told you.”

“Just check them out, please.”

“Can do. I’ll let Garth know when I’ve got something.”

T.J. wrapped an arm around my waist as we left. “Which one of those women do you think is involved?” he said quietly.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “But I think one of them told someone, and I think that someone is Edward Winthrop.”

Chapter 27

Garth called Edward and invited him for lunch. While he managed the meal details, I gingerly dragged myself upstairs and took another hot shower. What I really wanted to do was to crawl into bed. They always say you hurt more on the second day than you do the first, and considering how much pain I was in, I was inclined to agree.

T.J. thought it would be a good idea to wait until after Edward got there before joining them in the dining room. He placed a chair near the doorway, where I would be able to hear what they were saying without being seen. This was going to be one interesting conversation.

Edward showed up about 12:15, and Garth introduced him to T.J. and Owen as they sat down. “Where’s Patricia?”

“She’ll be here shortly. She had some last minute details to take care of,” Garth replied. “You know how it is. Excuse me, I’ll go and get the main course.” He came into the kitchen a minute later. “He’ll see you as soon as you walk into the room. When are you going to come in there?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll play it by ear.”

He nodded, pulled a dish out of the oven, and carried it into the other room. “I’m afraid this is the best I could do on short notice,” he said. I heard him place the dish down, and the clanking of utensils as the meal was served.

“I haven’t had a homecooked meal in quite a while,” Edward said. “It smells wonderful.”

No one said anything for a few minutes. “Since you’re here, Mr. Winthrop,” T.J. said, “I was wondering if you could tell us about the meeting you had with Jake and Lizzie the other night.”

“That poor girl. She demanded money from me to keep quiet about what Ethan allegedly did to her.”

“Really?” T.J. replied, sounding surprised. “I had no idea she was planning to blackmail you.”

“The bruises she showed me looked like they were done with make up. She was quite believeable, actually. Even the waitress felt sorry for her. Luckily, I’ve been through this many times before with other women Ethan has dated and scorned.”

“Where they still at the restaurant when you left?” McDonald said.

“Yes, they were.” Well, at least he told the truth about something. “I had an important meeting and I needed to get back to town.”

“So you have no idea what time they left?” T.J. said.

“I’m afraid not,” Edward told him. “I heard about their unfortunate accident, though. Two lives lost at such a young age. I’m sure Patricia is simply devastated. Did the young lady have any family? If not, I’d be honored to help pay for her funeral.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Edward,” I said as I walked into the room.

The expression on his face was priceless. I wish someone had taken a picture. When he saw me, his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened in surprise.

“What was it Mark Twain said?
‘The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated’,
” I said as I sat down next to T.J.

Edward quickly regain his composure. “So it would seem, Ms. Crenshaw. What about Jacob?”

“In the hospital, minus his spleen. He’ll live, much to the chagrin of the person who ran us off the road, I’m sure.”

“I thought it was simply an accident.”

“Who told you that?” McDonald said.

“I don’t remember who exactly,” Edward replied. “I was just told that they had gone off the road between here and Marion.”

“It’s interesting,” McDonald told him, “that you know about the accident and where it happened. That information was not made available to the public. In fact, no one was told anything at all, and the only ones that did know about it were ordered not to say anything if they wanted to keep their jobs. So, who told you?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to tell you and get some poor person fired from their job, Sheriff McDonald. What kind of man do you think I am?”

“You don’t really want me to answer that, do you?”

Edward looked around the table at all of us. “I have obviously been set up. So what is it you want from me?” he said.

“Let’s start with Jessica Mangrove,” McDonald said.

“Who?” Edward said, a blank look on his face.

“A girl Ethan dated in high school, his first victim.”

“Oh, her,” Edward said dismissively. “She committed suicide.”

“Actually,” McDonald said, “I went looking for her case file, and it’s considered a cold case.”

“Meaning what exactly?”

“Meaning that any new information that comes in regarding her death will be investigated, and people of interest questioned.”

“Are you implying that I am a person of interest?”

“Not at all, Mr. Winthrop,” McDonald assured him, “but I am hoping you’ll be able to provide some additional information to help me out.”

Edward gave him a look that clearly said he didn’t believe McDonald for a minute, but he nodded. “Very well. Ask your questions.”

“Where were you the night Jessica died?”

“You’re joking,” Edward scoffed. “You expect me to be able to remember that after fifteen years? That’s like asking me where I was a week ago. I can’t tell you because I don’t remember.”

“Surely you have a calendar or files that could tell us,” I said.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “I have no earthly idea. Taking care of those things is not my problem. I have other people who do that.”

“Where was Ethan, then? Or was keeping an eye on your only child not your problem, either?” I retorted.

“Are you always this disrespectful to your elders, Ms. Crenshaw?”

“Only to the ones who try to kill me.”

McDonald interrupted before Edward could reply. “Where was Ethan that night, Mr. Winthrop?”

“At home, as far as I know.”

“There is a witness who stated that he was actually at the high school, making up some work.”

“Who said that?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you, Mr. Winthrop. Witness statements are private to protect their identity.”

“Whoever told you that Ethan was at school is mistaken. He was definitely home that night.”

“Are you sure? You don’t even know where you were that night. How can you be so sure about where Ethan was?” I said.

“I know he was there, regardless of what Ruthdale Simpkins told you.”

You could have heard a pin drop. “How do you know that she told me anything?”

Edward opened his mouth for a moment, then he stood up and slammed his napkin on the table. “This discussion is over. Any further communication will be through my lawyer, Sinclair Hawthorne.”

“Just one more thing before you go,” I said.

“What?” he said angrily.

I stood up and walked around the table to stand right in front of him. “I don’t know why you think you are better than everyone else, Mr. Winthrop, but let me tell you this: you are no better than your son, who did nothing with his life to be proud of. He abused and beat women. I don’t know where he learned that from, but my guess is he learned how to be mean from you. I don’t know why you consider me such a threat, either. I know you are responsible for that accident last night, regardless of all your denials. So you just take a crowbar, pry open that wallet, and pay Jake’s medical bills.”

“He doesn’t need money.”

“This has nothing to do with needing money! This is about doing what is right. He’s going to be on medication for the rest of his life because of your arrogance, your need to control everything and everyone around you. Now you make the arrangements with the hospital.”

“Anything else, Ms. Crenshaw?”

“Yes. Stay away from me, my friends, and my family. I’m sorry your son is dead, but I had nothing to do with his death. The scars I’m carrying because of him will be with me for the rest of my life. At least he won’t hurt anyone else.”

He glared at me one more time before brushing past me. “This is not over, Ms. Crenshaw. I know you killed my son, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you go to prison for the rest of your life.”

“I apologize, Mr. Winthrop.”

He stopped and turned around. “Excuse me?”

“I apologize for saying you were a jerk like your son last night.”

“Well, I…”

“You’re a bigger jerk than he was.”

His eyes widened, then he turned and stormed out. Garth got up and went after him, probably to make sure he actually left.

“Well, that went well,” T.J. said.

I returned to my chair and sat down. “Sorry, I guess I wasn’t much help.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” McDonald said. “We learned he knows that Mrs. Simpkins gave Ethan an alibi for the night of Jessica’s death.”

“Jake and I didn’t tell him.”

“Which means Kassandra Sherwood or Sage Kingsley did,” he said. “Now we just have to figure out which one.”

None of us said anything for a minute. I toyed with a fork. “I just realized something,” I said, clanking the utensil against the plate as I dropped it.

“What?” T.J. said.

“He didn’t deny that he was responsible for the accident.”

Two hours later, Edward Winthrop sat in the passenger seat of a dark blue truck. “I thought I made it perfectly clear: you were supposed to make sure they were dead when you ran them off the road last night,” he said angrily, his gloved hands clenched in his lap.

“There was no way anyone could have survived the beating that car took from me.”

“Well, they did! I’ve just seen the Crenshaw woman, and Mathias is in the hospital in critical condition.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t make it.”

“I went by the hospital to see if there was anything I could do for his mother, and she told me he would be able to go home in a few days.”

The man grinned. “I can slip in there, make sure he don’t go home.”

“It’s too late for that. There is a bodyguard and a policeman guarding his room around the clock.”

“So we wait and try again,” the man said.

Edward reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “My father always said that the way to do your very best was to make sure to do it yourself. That way, it was done right the first time, so there would be no mistakes.”

“Wise man.”

“Yes, indeed,” Edward agreed. He pointed his .22 at his employee and shot him three times. Pulling out his hankerchief, he wiped down the gun, wrapped it up, got out of the truck and locked the doors.

They had met on a seldom used road a couple of miles east of the Mathias mansion. Edward got into his BMW, turned around, and headed back down the road, which ran behind the mansion. Parking his car, he grabbed the wrapped gun and stuck it in his pocket. He walked through a thick grove of trees which stopped near the back patio. He took a plant out of one of the concrete plant holders, put the plant on the ground, and took the gun out. Unwrapping it, he dropped it in the bottom of the holder, placed the plant on top of it, and left the way he had come.