One Deadly Sister (Sandy Reid Mystery Series #1) (18 page)

“But you’ve a brother here.”

“We live on different planets.”

“Doesn’t he count? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“I never really got to be his sister.”

“I don’t get you.”

“When we were young. We talked some and I could ask him things and get homework help. And he taught me silly songs. However, when I got to the age where I might help
him
, he was already off to college.”

“Help him, how?”

“I don’t know, maybe with clothes or how girls think, stuff like that.”

She was silent for a moment, staring at her coffee. Then she leaned closer. “Want to hear something weird? There’s a drop of bad blood between us and we grew apart. We’ve never been close as adults. Even so, I’m down here risking my job to help him. I’m not even certain I like him. I get the confusing thought that I’m enjoying him being punished, even though I know he didn’t do it.”

“
Schadenfreude.
”

“Yeah, I’m guilty of sibling gloating
.”

“You don’t know for a fact your brother is innocent.”

“He doesn’t fit the profile, Raymond’s much too soft. He’s carried a clean handkerchief in his pocket for twenty years just in case some woman across the room should cry. What evidence do you have against him?”

“Forget it.”

She expected him to clam up to her direct questions. But they were mixing it up and she liked that. Exchanging some personal thoughts also was encouraging. They seemed to have connected instantly. She had opened up with candid feelings, and he had opened up in return. She could build on that. Yet she was aware the connection might not be genuine. It would pay off only if he was playing fair.

They stood and he tossed a couple of bills on the table. He touched her arm as she started to walk away. “Will you give me your number?”

She nudged him with her shoulder. “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

S
andy drove from the Coffee Spot back to the mainland and located the newspaper building on US 1. She was pleased with the meeting with Chip. She’d need to explain the arrangement to Raymond and Kagan. They weren’t there. She doubted they would understand.

Next, was to cozy up to Linda Call, the local reporter who wrote each day about the murder. Make her open to the possibility of other suspects. The media access would be invaluable. Sandy knew that most reporters imagine themselves Investigative Reporters. Let’s see how Linda Call reacts to the murder suspect’s sister.

In the building lobby, a young woman behind the counter interrupted her classified ad phone-order to motion Sandy up the stairs. The newsroom wasn’t large, wasn’t busy and wasn’t noisy. A glassed-in cubicle with a large desk and a conference table sat empty in the far corner. Low-hanging fluorescent lights hung down over a dozen desks. Three employees were engaged at their computers. One was a woman.

She was leaning back with her feet on the desk and the keyboard in her lap. Papers and folders were disordered around her on the floor. She wore jeans with a lightweight cotton sweater. Attractive but a tad overweight. Dark eyes to die for. She appeared to be in her mid-forties. Sandy thought it a shame to have nice dark-brown hair like that and do just a no-fuss ponytail. Sandy walked over. “Don’t tell me your big newspaper comes out of this little room?”

At first, the woman just glanced over at Sandy, then she turned and held a long look. She straightened and made a broad grin. “Hello to you. Yes, deceptive place, huh? State and national items come in digital and need little editing, mainly to make it fit, if we use it at all. Feature writers work out of their homes now. Advertising has its own office. That leaves a few others and me. That’s the tour. How do you like your little MX-5?”

Sandy grinned. “I’m not wearing my Miata Rally t-shirt, so how did you figure that out?”

“I was at the window when you pulled in. I’m Linda Call.”

“Sandy Reid. How do you know my car?

“I’m a former auto mechanic masquerading as a reporter. I’ve worked on Miata’s. Know every bolt. Wish I had one myself.”

“Mechanics don’t have nice-looking nails. Yours haven’t touched grease in a long time,” Sandy said. “Working your way through college repairing cars would make a good article.”

“Nothing in my life is that classy. I dropped out of high school...long story. Was a mechanic in Georgia for twenty years, loved it. Just install the correct part with the correct tool, turn the key and stand back, that baby has to run. No jobs in Georgia so I came down here. I got a job here at the paper selling space. They liked my ad copy and the rest is history. I left out the part about a girlfriend, her boyfriend, a dead dog and a fire. You just got the short version.”

“So, you know why I’m here?”

“I can guess. You’re either the sister or the wife of the Ray Reid in the clink. No ring, so I’ll go with sister.”

“Correct. He’s guilty by reason of being a stranger. I’m going to put more suspects in the pot and stir it up.”

“That’ll get your name in the paper and your picture on TV. God, you’re the poster girl-next-door if I ever saw one. Love your cute skirt. Grab that chair over there, Sugar. Scoot up close, so I can get a good look at you. I heard you were in town. I phoned Jerry Kagan a couple days ago. He wouldn’t say anything about you and wouldn’t let me talk to your brother. Maybe you can help me. National TV is interested now. So far, I’m on the inside, still I could easily get pushed out.”

“I haven’t seen any TV satellite trucks.”

“They did some videophone and shot some tape at first. Now they’re just standing by. I’ve been feeding the AP, but the boss says not to help any TV reporters.

“I’ve read your pieces; you’re as good as anyone up north. Crime reporting is your thing.”

“I’m okay with small crimes. Big stories are rare around here. I’m probably in over my head. It’s exciting but sad, I knew the senator.” Linda pointed at Sandy’s left hand. “You’re unattached. They don’t have what you’re after in the big city?”

“I had somebody up there, but I’m not looking for anything serious. I’m just a kid didn’t you notice.”

“You’d be astonished at what I notice about you.” She leaned closer. “Tell me, met anyone that interests you down here?”

“No time. I don’t plan to be around here long.”

“You have other brothers, sisters?”

“Just Raymond.”

“Too bad. Every girl should have a big sister, someone to take care of her now and then.” She tried to make eye contact with Sandy who looked away. “Anyhow, are you going to let me interview you? My murder copy is getting stale. Got plenty of rumors that I can't back up.”

“Something for something?”

“Sure, let’s get right to it. What was in your brother’s statement to the police?”

“Geez, you don’t mess around. I can’t divulge that. Too many names, it might prejudice our case somehow.”

“What was your brother doing at the senator’s apartment?”

“Raymond met Towson at a party the week before.”

“Bullshit. Why was he there?"

“He was told someone was in trouble. He went there looking for her. That’s the truth.”

“Who’s her? What sort of trouble? I can’t print half-ass stuff. Does the trouble have anything to do with the murder?”

“Well, Linda, I guess I can’t tell you a whole lot without naming people.”

“So, start naming. I heard there was a fight.”

“No, and not much of an argument either. They were having coffee when Towson decided my brother was there for some sinister reason. When Towson unexpectedly pounded his fist on the counter demanding an explanation, Raymond dropped his cup in surprise. Towson told him to get out. Which he did.”

“Not bad, maybe I can fit that someplace. The mystery to me is why he was there in the first place. What time did he leave?”

“Around noon. You didn’t happen to see the crime scene, did you?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Fascinating to be standing where an old acquaintance was just murdered. I’d just talked with him earlier that day. What can I tell you? His place was a large three-bedroom and study. He was shot in the master bedroom literally with his pants down, they told me. CSI had already removed his body by the time I got there. I could see blood stains on that gorgeous wood floor. The king-sized bed was unmade with the bedding was on the floor. They let me peek around; the rest of his place was tidy.”

“You wrote that his aide and the maintenance man discovered the body. Since he was shot in late afternoon, doesn't the unmade bed seem significant to you?”

“You talk like a detective. What do you do in Philadelphia?”

Sandy told her and then asked, “Was he having an affair?”

“I’m sure he had them but he kept that private. I was just covering his gubernatorial campaign. Maybe I should have been more interested in identifying his bed partners.”

“Maybe you should start digging. Every lover is a possible suspect in my mind. Lovers always quarrel, Linda.”

“If I ever get one, I’ll remember that.”

“I understand the Tampa gambling interests wanted the senator out of the way.”

“Out of the way and dead are two different things.”

“How about his neighbor, Mrs. Crawford? Did you know she saw people coming and going that afternoon? One was a woman.”

“Hey! Now you’re talking.” Linda reached over and patted Sandy’s hand. “Who’s your source?”

“Unnamed police source. But that’s it, I don’t know if she identified the woman.”

“That’s fine, that fits. One cop securing the crime scene told me a woman was seen leaving the building around five. He didn’t have the description except he heard she had a red and blue scarf over her head, as if hiding her face. I’ll bet it was that Mrs. Crawford who told them that. I talked to the medical examiner. He says the murderer could be a woman...small weapon, standing back, low angle and two shots. A man would step in and keep pulling the trigger just to hear those amusing little bangs.”

“But I saw the Coroner’s report. It said he was killed with only one shot."

"I don’t know about that. CSI told me two shots were fired.”

"If Mrs. Crawford saw a woman, and the M.E. thinks a woman might have done it, then why is my brother in jail? Why don’t you put that question in your paper? If you interview Mrs. Crawford would you let me know what she says?”

“Sure, you gave me the tip.”

“Have you talked to the maintenance man? Did he see anything?”

“He identified your brother to the police. He saw him get on the elevator to leave. He also saw the exterminator around the building later that day, doesn’t remember what time. He noticed nobody else except tenants.”

“What time did he see Ray leave?”

Linda picked up a notebook from the swirl of papers on the floor. “Same time you said, around noon. Now what happened at that party?”

“I’ll tell you on one condition. You absolutely must keep the host’s name out of the paper. She has nothing to do with this.”

“Too late, it’s all over town, Meg Emerson.”

“Even so, try not to mention her name. What’s the story on her anyway? Is she for real?”

“Solid gold. Her folks live in London...or somewhere over there. But Meg was born in the States. I understand she frequently flies over now that she’s in the chips.” Linda picked up a pen and placed the notebook in her lap. “So, who was there besides your brother and Towson? Why did she invite your brother to one of her classy parties anyway? He’s not rich.”

“Meg gave the party for business reasons. My brother works with her.” She wasn’t going to mention Meg had a personal interest in Raymond. “Tammy Jerrold and Loraine Dellin also were there.”

“Okay, so I imagine Tammy paired up with the senator as usual. Isn’t she a piece of cake?” She did a little shudder. “I heard a rumor Loraine left with your brother. Jumping to the bottom line, and I know you won’t answer this, did they have sex?”

“Yes.”

Linda’s eyes widened. She had expected an evasive response. “Loraine had sex with your brother?”

“Yes.”

“You know that for a fact?”

“For a fact. My brother admitted it to the police.”

“Wow! You know she and Towson were once married.” Linda looked at her closely. “Did
she
admit they had sex?”

“Ah, not sure, I think so. Furthermore, they definitely were seen the day of the murder at a motel. Loraine has admitted that part...unnamed police source.”

“Oh, really!” Linda was then silent for a moment. Her fingers were faintly moving as though already typing out the story. “What we have here is an old-fashioned love triangle. An excellent motive for murder. We haven’t even talked about the age-difference angle—there’s a whole other headline right there. Wow, it’s times like this I wished I worked for a tabloid.
Imagine the trashy stuff I could print about this.
Maybe Hollywood will ask me to do the screenplay.”