No Safe Place (Joe Hunter Thrillers Book 11) (5 page)

I thought for only the briefest of moments, then immediately switched my phone to the camera application and snapped a few shots of the glove
in situ
. Then I found a couple of pencil-length twigs on the ground and used them as chopsticks to pick the glove from the branch, and finally made my way out of the woods. As I walked back towards the house, I spotted a figure standing on the lawn, but from his build immediately recognised him as Andrew Clayton.

‘What’s going on, Hunter?’ he asked, as I approached juggling the glove between the two twigs. ‘I could hear you hollering from inside.’

‘Just chased off a prowler,’ I explained, and held up the glove. ‘He dropped this.’

‘You get a look at him?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Not a good look. Too dark.’

‘But you saw him drop that?’

I only lifted my eyebrows. ‘I found this after he’d fled, but it could only have been his.’

‘So what’re you going to do with it?’

‘Got a plastic bag I can use?’

‘Got some sandwich bags in the kitchen.’

‘Good. I’ll call Detective VanMeter first thing and have her come pick this up.’

‘You think they’ll run it for forensic evidence?’ Clayton sniffed. As if he thought it unlikely.

‘If it were only a one-off prowler, I don’t think they’d bother. But I think there’s more to this guy coming round than satisfying a sense of curiosity. Whoever put that brick through your front door meant business. If this was the same guy, he came prepared again.’ I held up the glove for emphasis. ‘He wasn’t some kid trying to get his kicks; he was up to more. He had on a hat and gloves, and it isn’t exactly the weather for either.’

‘The son of a bitch,’ Clayton said. ‘If I get my hands on him…’

‘You’ll do nothing,’ I warned. ‘Beating the crap out of some nut job isn’t going to help your case.’

‘My case? What do you mean by that?’

‘You know what I mean, Clayton. Let’s not try to kid each other.’

Clayton pushed out his chest. ‘The police have already investigated me. I’ve been questioned, cleared
and
released without charge. So I’m not too sure
what
you mean.’

‘Your alibi stood up,’ I told him. ‘But don’t think the cops aren’t looking for another way to get you.’

‘You think I had something to do with my wife’s murder?’ His cheeks had grown tight, his mouth a slit.

‘It has nothing to do with what I think. It’s what the cops think. And giving them a reason to suspect you’re a violent man won’t help.’ I glanced at the ground, then up again and met his stare. ‘If there’s any reason to get violent, leave it to me.’

He appraised me with keen interest. I wasn’t as big or imposing as him. But that didn’t mean a damn thing, and I knew he knew it. He’d fought in tough guy contests, and understood that some of the most dangerous adversaries weren’t muscle-bound hulks, or overblown thugs; they were often the unremarkable guys you least expected. But that wasn’t all he was thinking about. I’d given him the suggestion that I had his welfare in mind, that I was an ally. The best lie is one where you conceal it with part of the truth.

‘I’ve nothing to hide from the cops, or from anyone else for that matter,’ he said, and I watched him relax. He shoved his scarred hands into his jeans pockets.

‘Want to get one of those sandwich bags for me?’ I asked.

When Bryony arrived at the Clayton place the following morning she had a partner along with her I wasn’t as happy to see.
Detective Holker and I don’t share the mutual respect I have with Bryony. In fact, if Holker had his way he’d see me behind bars, or at least he’d have my green card rescinded and have me kicked out of the country. He abides by the old fashioned notion that the law always wins out, whereas I have more faith in justice. Sometimes the two aren’t the same, and he wasn’t a fan of my methods. I’d no rancour for him, not that I particularly liked him either, but he had only sarcasm and disdain for me.

‘Putting your nose where it isn’t needed again, Hunter,’ was his opening remark as I handed over the glove I’d found. ‘You should’ve left it where it was til we got here. Now you’ve broken the chain of evidence it’ll be inadmissible in court.’

‘I’ve no interest in taking it to court,’ I answered.

‘I’m surprised you didn’t just gun the guy down and have done.’

Holker’s salt and pepper hair looked much darker than usual, and glistened like oil under the sun, and there were a couple of stray hairs he’d missed with his razor on his left cheek. There was a small weeping nick on his narrow jaw. He hadn’t showered this morning, and his shaving had been rushed. His clothing looked rumpled too; a cream linen jacket, open-necked white shirt and black slacks, all piled loosely on his spare frame atop his obligatory Cuban-heeled shoes. Tampa CID was under a lot of pressure to get results, so I forgave him the snarky remark.

Bryony pursed her lips, shooting us both withering glances. ‘You two should go out and have a beer together. Get over yourselves, why don’t you?’

‘Maybe we’d be better putting boxing gloves on and duking it out,’ Holker suggested.

‘Who needs boxing gloves?’ I asked.

Holker flicked back the bottom of his jacket, hooked a thumb on his belt. It served the dual purpose of displaying his detective’s shield, and the Glock holstered on his hip. I smiled at him.

‘What’s this?’ I asked. ‘You show me yours, I show you mine?’

‘Jesus,’ said Bryony. ‘Once you two are finished comparing the length of your dicks can we get back to what’s really important?’

‘Fine by me,’ I said. Holker only exhaled through his flaring nostrils.

I’d told Bryony about finding the glove when first I contacted her that morning, and I’d also forwarded her the photos of it when it was still hanging on the broken branch. Nevertheless I still led them around the house and across the lawn towards the copse of tress. As we walked I mentioned the thrill-seeking kids at the front gate and how I first thought the prowler could have arrived with them, but had changed my mind when spotting his attire. ‘He was older, too,’ I added.

‘You could tell that in the dark?’ Holker said, unconvinced.

‘Yes. When he was climbing the wall, the moonlight was on him. It was how I spotted he’d lost a glove.’

‘But you didn’t see his face?’ Holker asked.

‘Didn’t need to. I could tell from his movements he wasn’t a teenager. He wasn’t the most agile. Kind of struggled to pull himself over that wall.’ The perimeter wall was about six-feet tall, hardly an insurmountable barrier. ‘His hair was brown, maybe light brown seeing as I could tell colour, and looked as if it needed a cut. White guy,’ I added, before either detective could prompt me. ‘I got a look at part of his face and an ear, his hand too.’

‘But you couldn’t pick him out of a line up?’ Bryony wondered.

‘Maybe if you had him dressed the same and climbing over that wall I’d identify him, but that wouldn’t stand in court.’ My words were a barb aimed at Holker, but I was also confident that if the circumstances were repeated then I could positively ID the prowler. I held a hand level with my eyebrows. ‘He was about five feet nine tall, I’d say, slim build.’

The problem was that the description could fit countless thousands of guys, probably dozens in the local vicinity. It didn’t help much. The glove wasn’t latex that’d hold a fingerprint inside, but there was always the possibility that there were viable prints on the cheap leather exterior. If they were interested in discovering the prowler’s identity then they could run the glove for forensics, but my guess was they had more important things on their minds.

‘Where was Clayton when all of this was happening?’ Holker asked.

‘Inside the house. When I chased off those kids and came back down the drive I saw him in the living room. After I saw off the prowler he came out and met me on the lawn back there. He said he heard me shouting and came out to investigate.’

‘What was his demeanour?’ Bryony asked.

‘Angry.’ I didn’t elucidate. ‘But that’s understandable.’

‘Anything?’ Bryony asked hopefully. She meant had he incriminated himself in any way.

‘Not yet,’ I said.

‘What happened then?’ Holker asked.

‘We went to the kitchen, and I bagged the glove, kept it safe. Clayton checked on Cole and then went to his own room. I made another patrol and was satisfied all was quiet so went back inside and locked up. Called you guys at first light.’

‘Didn’t you sleep?’ Bryony asked. I wasn’t showing signs of fatigue.

‘No. Stayed awake all night. Rink’s coming over to spell me in an hour or so,’ I said with a cursory glance at my watch. ‘I’ll sleep then.’

‘Is Clayton home now?’ Holker wondered and turned to look back at the house.

‘No.’

‘You allowed him to leave?’

‘He isn’t under house arrest,’ I reminded him. ‘And I’m not here to hold his hand. It’s the boy I’m here to protect, and he’s safely at school.’

‘That’s not the only thing,’ Holker said. ‘You’re here to help us determine if he had anything to do with his wife’s murder. How do you suppose you’re going to do that if you let him out of your sight?’

‘Softly softly catchy monkey,’ I said, and received an incredulous squint from Holker. Perhaps he was unfamiliar with the saying. ‘If I’m constantly in his pocket, Clayton will be more guarded. He’s more likely to trip himself up if I keep some distance between us.’

‘That isn’t the way I’d do things,’ Holker grumbled.

‘Good job it’s not you staying here then, Detective,’ I remarked. ‘What would you do: shoot him and have done?’

Holker gave me the stink eye. I turned my back on him, joining Bryony as we began walking towards the house. I didn’t need a heightened sixth sense to tell Holker’s gaze was boring between my shoulder blades. I nudged Bryony’s elbow, saying
sotto voce
, ‘You told him why I’m here?’

‘He’s my partner, Joe. What did you expect?’

‘Fair enough.’ I expected a worse reaction from Holker than I’d received. Not only did he despise my tactics, he wasn’t hugely impressed that Bryony had been intimate with me. I believed he held a candle for his beautiful partner, but had never had the nerve to show her his true feelings. Perhaps he was frightened that she’d turn him down flat, or worse, his wife would find out and trim his wick. I glanced back at him, and he was tight-lipped as he followed us.

‘So you shared with Holker, how about you share a little more with me?’ I asked.

‘What do you mean?’ Bryony asked innocently.

‘I need to know if there’s any progression in the case. If I’m going to wrangle some kind of confession from Clayton, I need to know the pertinent facts, otherwise how will I know if he’s tripped himself up?’

‘We’re still concentrating on identifying the home invasion crew. We’ve some leads we’re following up on before we can start affecting arrests.’

‘I’m not talking about the robbers, and you know it, Bryony. You know there’s something wrong here; details that just don’t fit with their M.O. and probably never will. You don’t think the ones who killed Ella are the same people, do you?’

‘I don’t,’ Bryony said, ‘but you already knew that. But we’ve also investigated Clayton thoroughly, and we can’t find any evidence to say he organised the hit. We’ve checked his phone records, his email accounts, all the usual routes, but haven’t found anything suspicious. No big payments going out of his bank accounts, nothing to indicate he paid anyone for their services.’

‘Maybe payment was made in what they were allowed to carry away with them,’ I said, though it was a poor theory. I recalled what Clayton had said about Ella’s ring being stolen from her finger, and I doubted he’d have agreed to that. ‘Or maybe he’s totally innocent.’

‘That’s what we have to find out,’ she said.

‘What about other suspects?’

‘Other suspects?’

I nodded at the bagged glove. ‘The guy who left that has something to do with Ella’s murder.’

‘Or he’s just a crazy guy who gets a kick out of being so close to a murder scene. There are plenty nut jobs like him.’

Holker had caught up as we slowed to speak. He surprised me by saying, ‘You tell him about the emails, Bryony?’

‘Not yet,’ she said, and shrugged as if the messages were unimportant. ‘We’ve been receiving anonymous messages criticizing us for our failure to catch the killer. The killer accused us of clearing Andrew Clayton, and concentrating on the unconnected home invasions, more or less stating that we were being racist, because Clayton is a successful white guy while the crew’s obviously a bunch of underprivileged blacks. His words not mine. You ask me, he’s the racist when jumping to conclusions like that.’

‘Sounds as if he might have some insider knowledge,’ I said.

‘We’ve wondered the same,’ Holker said, again surprising me by electing to share with me. ‘The emails could even come from one of the home invasion gang, who are pissed that they’re being blamed for Ella’s murder. But that theory doesn’t hold much weight with me. I’m thinking it’s someone else who has a grudge against Clayton. There’s one person of interest we’re looking at.’

I waited. Both detectives glanced at each other, wondering how much they should divulge. Perhaps Holker believed that by telling me about a possible culprit he’d be sealing the man’s doom. Finally he nodded, giving Bryony the go-ahead.

She waved her arm, taking in the house and grounds in one gesture. ‘Did Clayton tell you how he could afford all this?’

‘His boat supply company,’ I said.

‘Did he mention his business partner?’

‘Yeah, but I haven’t learned his name.’

Bryony sucked in her bottom lip, then released it with a tiny smack. ‘Parker Quinn,’ she announced. ‘The two of them go back a-ways. They started off as a two-boat outfit, taking tourists out on the Gulf, built up their business from there.’ I’d heard the story from Clayton already, but suspected there were parts of it he’d left out. Bryony confirmed my suspicion. ‘Theirs is a shaky business relationship, has been for a number of years now. Clayton has tried buying out Quinn, but Quinn’s not for moving. The way I’ve read things between them, Quinn also wants what Clayton has.’

‘He hasn’t done as well out of the partnership?’ I asked.

‘He’s done OK with the cash, it’s other things Clayton has that Quinn supposedly covets.’

‘Hmmm,’ I said, understanding what she was hinting at. ‘Quinn had his eye on Ella? Any suggestion that she reciprocated?’

‘Not that anyone is admitting to it, but I have a sense that Quinn and Ella enjoyed some sort of relationship. If Clayton suspected, he isn’t saying a thing. You know to admit as much would give him a motive for having his wife murdered.’ Bryony shrugged, and again looked at Holker, seeking his in-put.

‘I know what you’re thinking, Hunter,’ said Holker. ‘Why would he have Ella murdered, and still engage in business with the man who was jumping his wife’s bones? Why not have Quinn murdered, and have done? That way he’d not only inherit everything he did from Ella, but also the entire business. That’s what I’ve been thinking, too.’

‘You suspect Quinn’s behind the anonymous emails?’

‘Yeah, But we’ve been unable to trace them back to him. Whoever’s behind them is covering their tracks, sending them through anonymous Hotmail accounts. We’ve been able to identify the IP address of the computer used to send them, but not its location. Once we find the computer, we find the sender, but we haven’t any reason to go hunting for it yet. These emails are only a few compared to the dozens of others we’ve received from all the haters. The only reason they’re of interest to us is because they firmly accuse Clayton, seem to have some insider knowledge about the man, and have purposefully been kept anonymous.’

‘Could be the killer,’ I said. ‘Throwing you off track by having you concentrate on Clayton.’

‘Could be,’ Holker admitted, and actually offered me a nod of mutual respect. But that was all I could expect from him. He walked away, his built-up heels leaving small crescent indentations in the lawn.