Lethal Affair (28 page)

“
Is that an official
question or are you thinking of putting in a garden
yourself?”

Crane saw that she was having herself
a little party. No slurring yet, but not far off. No surprise
there, he'd done his homework on her too. Surprising what neighbors
knew.

“
My wife gardens. She's got
a little plot out back of our house. Hard on her knees
though.”

“
Yes, it can be. May I offer
you a drink, Detective? Coffee, lemonade, a soda?”

“
I'm fine,” he told her.
“Mrs. Hammond, have you seen the morning papers?”

The booze hadn't numbed her quite
enough; her stomach clutched and churned. Here we go. “Yes, I have.
Was there something in them I should be aware of?”

“
The murders in the Village.
Mrs. Hammond, you don't seem all that rattled about the fact that
you have a homicide detective sitting in your home asking you
questions. You strike me as an intelligent woman, but I get a
feeling you're going to play footsie with me. Why don't we just
skip over that part and get down to the bottom line?”

Olivia's lips compressed and she
sobered somewhat. She turned her head toward the hallway. “Ligaya,”
she called out, “I know you're there, dear. Please bring me a
strong black coffee at once.”

I knew she was no
dummy.
“I'm here because of your son. But I
think you already know that. It's come to my attention that he
brought a young lady to your place of residence for dinner two
weeks ago last Saturday, is that correct? A Miss Kylie
Lambert?”

Olivia accepted the steaming mug
Ligaya handed her, took a tentative sip. “You have your facts
right, Detective. So you probably already know that the dinner did
not go well.”

“
You witnessed your son slap
Miss Lambert in the face?”

She contemplated the question, sipped
more coffee. “Should I be calling a lawyer, Detective?”

“
This is an informal
interview. It's your privilege if you feel it's
necessary.”

On a long sigh, “Yes. I saw him slap
her. They were in his car and she got out, took off
running.”

“
Is your son prone to such
physical outbursts?”

“
Now really, Detective, I
must say that these are highly provocative questions. You can't
possibly expect me, Drew's mother, to hand you personal
observations on a silver platter.”

Crane thought he might prefer her half
drunk. She was far too clever to be duped or coerced. “Let me level
with you, Mrs. Hammond. Two women have been brutally murdered.
Young women with most of their lives ahead of them. The Village
area of this fine city is on edge. It's a serious situation that
requires serious action. Kylie Lambert seems to be at the epicenter
of this thing with your son Drew being the only common
denominator.”

She sipped more coffee, her hand
trembling.

“
Alright Detective, I'll
bite. How is Kylie Lambert at the heart of your investigation, and
how does Drew fit into the picture?”

“
Ma'am, you may not be aware
of this but your son has been stalking Miss Lambert for some time
now. Harassing her at her place of work and in other public areas.
We have reason to believe the first victim, Lillian McFarley, was a
mistake, that the real target was Jolene Sparta, Kylie's
roommate.”

Olivia's heart did the two-step but
her face remained impassive. “Go on,” she said
cautiously.

“
The second victim, Gina
Kirby, was treating a dog brought in by Will Delaney, who has
befriended Kylie Lambert. They had the dog with them when they were
stalked by your son. The dog was interred in the clinic overnight.
Our forensics team believes that Miss Kirby interrupted an intruder
who was intent upon harming the dog. It's not much of a stretch to
put it together.”

“
Oh I don't know about that,
Detective. It sounds like a pretty far stretch to me. After all,
running into someone with their dog in a public...”

“
Excuse me Ma'am, but he
didn't merely run into them. He followed them in his vehicle, spied
on them. He may also be responsible for causing an accident in
which a workman was injured. That constitutes stalking, Mrs.
Hammond, an illicit occupation.” He paused for effect. “I need a
piece of the puzzle filled in, and for that, I need your
cooperation.”

She knew what was coming next and
thank heaven she'd sobered up, and fast. She was Drew's mother for
God's sake! If he couldn't depend on her to protect him, then
who?

“
What is it,
Detective?”

He leaned forward and pierced her eyes
with his. “Are you missing a pair of garden gloves and a pair of
garden shears?”

It felt like quicksand, the slow,
sludge-like sinking in her gut. Not used to lying, she was
surprised at the ease of it. “Why no, I'm not. I was out just this
morning trimming my rose bushes and found my garden basket to be
quite in order.”

Crane sat back. He'd been expecting a
lie and really couldn't begrudge her for it. Now his work would be
that much harder. The shears, like the gloves, had been a common
variety that could be bought in at least a dozen places around the
city. In his gut he knew they'd be wasting a lot of man power
tracking down their origin.

The shears had been wiped cleaned and
oiled before becoming a murder weapon. Had Olivia done that, or had
it been Drew? Cleaning the shears had not only erased fingerprints
but had taken out the plant material visible to the naked eye,
although the lab was going over them now for trace
material.

“
When is the last time you
saw your son, Mrs. Hammond?”

“
That would be Saturday
afternoon.”

“
You're saying that since
then, you've checked your gardening supplies and have found nothing
missing.”

“
Yes.”

“
You'll go on record saying
that?”

She frowned. “You said this is an
informal interview. I think it's either time for you to go, or I
should call our lawyer.”

Crane nodded. He rose and held out his
hand. “Thank you for your time. I'll see myself out.”

After he'd gone Olivia stood shakily
and walked to a side cupboard. Extracting a small flask, she poured
a generous portion of whiskey into what remained of her
coffee.

*

Because he wanted a woman's take on
Drew Hammond, Crane took his best female detective, Stacie Hoyle,
with him to Drew's office. Upon arrival they were told he'd already
left for the day. Stanley Hammond, however, was
available.

Seated in his corner penthouse office,
both Crane and Hoyle soaked in the masculine opulence. Stanley
seemed formidable in his dark navy custom suit, his silver hair
military short, wire-framed glasses glinting in the afternoon
light. Behind them his pale blue eyes darted from one of them to
the other, taking their measure.

“
Mr. Hammond, I've just come
from your home where I spoke with your wife. I asked her about her
gardening supplies. Do you have any idea why I did
that?”

Now there's an original
tactic.
But he wasn't easily thrown. “Why
don't you fill me in?”

Crane did just that, running through
the same statement that he'd given Olivia Hammond, watching each
tiny widening of Hammond's pupils, each facial twitch, the
tightening of lips. The agitation was there, lying just beneath the
surface. Like father, like son?

“
Your wife told me she isn't
missing any gardening tools. But when I asked her if she'd make an
official statement she cried lawyer. Why do you suppose she did
that? Is she protecting your son, Mr. Hammond?”

Bully for her, he thought. “What
mother wouldn't protect her son? I imagine she got a little spooked
with you putting Drew in the hot seat over these murders. I read
the papers so I know one of them took place last night. Just so you
know, I was with Drew last night. I met him at his apartment and we
ate in.”

Stacie Hoyle's senses were finely
honed. Liars often gave themselves away by looking however briefly
to the left; not an actual science but usually accurate. This guy
looked Crane straight in the eye, dead on. Some people were natural
born liars.

Crane suspected it too. He'd been too
forthcoming with an alibi for Drew, had in fact given the
information without being asked for it. That alone smacked of
fabrication.

“
Who cooked?” Hoyle asked,
speaking up for the first time.

Stanley regarded her. He had little
tolerance for women in the work place, never mind on the force. Her
inane question seemed to prove that she had a weak, female mind.
Who cared who cooked! Really.

Hemming in his disdain for her,
Stanley supplied, “Drew cooked. In fact,” and he prided himself on
coming up with this on the spur of the moment, “he burned his hand
on the stove. I had to bandage it for him.” He'd call Drew and have
him bandage the dog bite. Unable to convince him to leave town,
he'd coached him on how to deal with the cops.

Crane and Hoyle exchanged glances.
Both wondered what that had to do with anything. Had a struggling
Gina Kirby injured him? The medical examiner hadn't found any
DNA-rich tell-tale skin cells under her nails.

“
Mr. Hammond, would you say
your son is prone to violence?”

“
Why are you
asking?”

“
Because we know of several
violent incidents he's had with his ex girlfriends, and one in
particular with Kylie Lambert.”

“
That? It was nothing. The
young woman blew things out of proportion. She got herself pregnant
and my son wanted to do the right thing and marry her, but she
wouldn't have it and humiliated him. It wasn't a malicious act but
rather a normal reaction to her rather insulting
behavior.”

She got herself
pregnant.
Now that was a helluva trick,
thought Stacie.

“
That depends on what you
call normal,” continued Crane. “Are you aware that Drew has been
stalking her for the past several weeks?”

Stanley grimaced. “He only wanted to
speak with her. It's his baby after all. Is that too much to
ask?”

It wasn't hard to see from where Drew
got his cockiness. They weren't going to get much more from Stanley
Hammond right now.

Concluding the interview, they headed
for Drew's apartment. On the ride over they discussed how Hammond
had so obviously been covering his son's every move.

After a brief verbal scuffle, Drew
buzzed them up to his apartment. He greeted them at the door
wearing lounging pants, a sweatshirt and a bandage on his
hand.

“
You again,” said Drew
ungraciously. “What now?”

“
We have questions regarding
a murder last night,” Crane informed him.

“
I don't know why you're
harassing me. I had nothing to do with either of them.”

“
You know about Gina
Kirby?”

“
I read the
papers.”

“
Are you going to invite us
in?”

Wordlessly he opened the door wide to
let them pass.

“
This is Detective Stacie
Hoyle. She'll be sitting in.”

Hoyle figured that Daddy's phone call
warning him of their imminent arrival was why the bandage on Drew's
hand was fresh and unsoiled. Compounding that notion was the
bandage wrapper lying on the counter.

Drew led them to his living room where
they chose to sit on the wide couch.

Inwardly Drew seethed. The two cops
were sitting on the very sofa where he and Kylie had made out. This
female cop was soiling his memory of Kylie with her big rump
squashed exactly onto the place where his child had been conceived.
He had a quick flash in his mind's eye of sticking the letter
opener on the table into her neck.

He gave her a brilliant smile instead
and her woman's heart did a little flip, a natural reaction to all
that high wattage charm. But then it hardened when she looked into
his eyes and saw a flicker, a shadow that hinted at something
unsavory.

Crane took the lead, asking his array
of questions. “Your father left here around one am. Isn't that a
little unusual, considering you were both due at work early this
morning?”

Drew uttered what he'd been told to
say. “We had to put our ducks in a row before an important meeting
with a client.”

I'll bet.

“
Your father said you burned
your hand on the stove. Have you seen a doctor?”

Drew's eyes grew cold. “No need.
Nothing a little ointment won't fix.”

“
May I see it?”

Drew hedged. “See what?”

“
The burn. Indulge me. Let
me see it.”

A moment of silence. “You're going to
have to take my word for it, Detective. The bandage is keeping it
from getting infected.”

“
I can re-bandage it for
you,” Hoyle offered. “I'm trained in medical
emergencies.”

Drew held his injured hand to his body
defensively. “Sorry. Not going to happen. Do I need to call a
lawyer, Detective?”