Paloma: A Laurent & Dove Mystery (31 page)

Paloma visibly recoiled at Maddie’s suggestion. “But I’m not supposed to be alive.”

Maddie glared at her mother. “You and your nonsense. But you are alive, aren’t you? Not like my father.”   

With tears welling up, Paloma darted from the table.

Maddie yelled. “That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? Put your head in the sand. Leave. You only care about yourself.” 

“Maddie,” Max said reaching out. “Calm down. No matter what, it still would be our word against theirs. Trust me, I got it covered.” He sighed. “You two have got to get along. Maddie, can I count on you?”

She folded her arms, refusing to look him in the eye.

He peered over to Paloma. She sat on the bed with a pad and pencil on her lap. “Paloma?”

Not responding, she began to write.

He shook his head. “Okay, I got to buy a few things. We need to move fast, so we got to work together.” Neither woman appeared to be listening. “Ladies, just so you know this is not negotiable. If you don’t cooperate, you’re letting them win.” He stood and clapped his hands. “So let’s get moving.”

Sniffling, Paloma returned to the table and passed a piece of paper to Max. “Any past can be reconstructed,” she said.

Max picked up the page and read in a script, small and barely legible:

June 21,

To Whom It May Concern,

I have in my possession a tape recording of my wife, Natalie Abbott, taken earlier today. Should anything happen to me, I have advised Max Laurent to take this tape to the police. Sincerely, Clay Abbott

Paloma said, “I know Clay’s handwriting like my own.” She then passed a birthday card full of butterflies and purple flowers. In a similar script, it read:

To my darling daughter on her sixteenth birthday. You have made my life magical. Love, Daddy.

“The police can compare Clay’s handwriting with this sample or any number of others I can provide.”

Max looked at her. Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle came together. “So this is what you’ve been doing? And all those books in your apartment weren’t for the topic but for the paper?”

She nodded.

He passed the forgeries to Maddie. “Do these look like your father’s handwriting?”

Maddie’s eyes moved over the words. “Yes.”

“Max,” Paloma said, “there’s no need to go chasing after them and there’s especially no need for ‘alternatives’.” 

Max looked deeply into Paloma’s eyes. She understood his plan. If things went badly, he would take care of Natalie and Brandon on his own. Neither Paloma nor Maddie would be able to live their lives otherwise. “Sounds like you care.”

She pulled her eyes away.

He weighed his choices.

Paloma continued. “You could tell the police that Clay had suspicions and hired you as a private detective. And that when you presented him with the tape, he wasn’t totally convinced. Still, he agreed to write this note, just in case.”

Max smiled, warming to the plan. Getting involved with the police on the ground floor, could also get him in the door. Then maybe he could parlay his way into the investigation and make sure things went smoothly. “It may just work.”

“Yes,” Paloma agreed. “Now all you have to do is witness the note and take it down to the station.”

Maddie dropped the blanket from her shoulders. “I want to witness the note and go with you. I’ll say I was with Daddy when you both met.”

Max shook his head. “It’s better if you stay here.”

“If I’m not a part of your plan, I’ll tell.”

Paloma pounced. “Maddie, you can’t!”

Her daughter stood up. “God damn it. He’s my father and he’s dead. I need to do something or I couldn’t live with myself.”

Paloma slumped onto the bed.

Max slid the paper across the table. “Maddie, you’re in.” He pulled a pen from his pocket. “Give me your best John Hancock.”

Maddie sat down and signed. The tension between mother and daughter was palpable. 

“There,” Maddie said. “Your turn.”

Max witnessed the statement, folded it and put it in his breast pocket. “You ready?” he said to Maddie. 

She nodded. 

Max looked at Paloma. He ached to put his arms around her, to tell her everything’d be fine.

She turned her sad face toward him. The years showed. Her lips drained of color were thin and taut. The spark in her eyes now faded.

“We’ll call you,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Max and Maddie sat in a couple of plastic molded chairs in a windowless office. The door opened into a busy hallway. Clipped, short-wave radio banter filtered into the room, as precinct staff rushed by.   

“She should be here,” Maddie said.

Max leaned forward. “That wouldn’t be a good idea,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“It would present a diversion. Last thing we need is for your mother to rise up from the dead. The police would want to know who she was and what she was doing alive. We can’t let that become part of equation.”

Maddie sat forward, putting her head in her hands. “She could have at least offered. She’s selfish.”

Max shook his head. The mother daughter relationship was in serious trouble. “We’ve got to keep our eyes on the ball.” He put his arm around her. “Are we set with the story?”

She nodded.

“Just remember when I came to your house. Think of that moment. Keep in mind that your father was present. If you don’t know what to say… Well, you know what to do.”

“Got it.”

Breezing into the room came a man in a suit. He shut the door. “My name’s Detective Horn,” he said holding out his hand. “Sorry you had to wait. Sargent Smith said you had some information on the Abbott case.”

Max shook the detective’s hand. “Max Laurent. This is Madeleine Abbott, the daughter of the deceased.”

The detective nodded to Maddie. “Sorry.” He then looked to Max. “So what do you have?”

“I was recently hired by Clay. He suspected his wife was cheating on him. He was considering a divorce, but felt he’d have more leverage if adultery could be established.”

“Leverage?”

“As far as a divorce settlement. It was a short term marriage, only five years. Unfortunately there wasn’t a prenup. Mr. Abbott was a wealthy man. Besides the business he had patents pending.”

The detective nodded. “I see.”

 “Turns out she is seeing someone. A guy by the name of Brandon Sills. I suspect adultery wasn’t the only thing on Mrs. Abbott’s mind.”

Detective Horn looked concerned. “Miss, would you like to wait outside?”

Maddie shook her head. “I… I can’t.”

Max reached for Maddie’s hand. “I’m afraid, she doesn’t feel safe. Besides being an investigator, I’m an old friend of the family. Before coming down, I promised we’d stick together. She wants to help and be a part of this.”

“I see. So what are you suggesting? That Mrs. Abbott killed her husband?”

“Actually, I’m sure she’ll have an alibi. But Mr. Sills won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

Max pulled out the tape recorder. “I paid a visit to Mrs. Abbott’s shop yesterday. We got to talking. I mentioned I knew Mr. Abbott, then I left this behind. I think you might find what she said interesting.” Max pressed the
Play
button. 

The detective listened. After the short one-way conversation ended, he said to Max. “Not admissible and also vague.”

Max nodded. It was time to go out on a limb and play the old boy network. “Phone records will show Mrs. Abbott was talking to Brandon Sills. I know it’s circumstantial, but given the course of events. Well, you do the math.”

The detective looked surprised. “Phone records? How’d you manage that?”

“Detective Horn. Before becoming a private investigator I was Special Agent in Charge in the Buffalo Office. Also a very close friend of Bernie Kramer, your guy in Chicago.”

Detective Horn nodded. “I see.”

“After I heard this, I took it over to Mr. Abbott. Something was clearly being planned.”

“And what did he say?”

“He was fairly certain about her cheating on him. But murder? Well, he couldn’t put his arms around that.”

“So how was it left?”

Max pulled the forgery from his pocket. “I tried to get him to come to you, but he didn’t think it was necessary. Finally got him to agree to make a statement. Just in case.”

The detective read the note. He then looked at Maddie. “You were present?”

“Yes.” 

 “Why didn’t your father call us?”

“Daddy’s independent and trusting.”

“What did he say? What was his reaction?”

Maddie’s face began to crumble. She sniffled. “I’m sorry.” 

Just as Max had told Maddie, if the questioning got troublesome she was to pretend to breakdown. Max wasn’t sure if she was acting or not. He stepped in. “Officer, you can see she’s upset. Mr. Abbott said he wanted to talk to Natalie. Confront her.”

Detective Horn nodded. “May not have been the wisest move.”

“I agree. What now?”

“We’ll certainly bring her in for questioning.”

“And Brandon Sills?”

“One step at a time Mr. Laurent. Unfortunately we have nothing on him.” He went for the door. “I’ll have an officer stop by the house and escort her in.”

Max followed the detective into the hall. “I can’t stress the urgency of the situation, especially for the girl.”

The detective nodded. “We’ll try our best.”

Forty-five minutes later, Max and Maddie stood watching Natalie through a one-way mirror. The grieving widow had changed into a black suit. At the ready, she held a white handkerchief. 

“Thanks for coming down Mrs. Abbott,” said Detective Horn.

She nodded and placed the hanky to her dry eyes. “I want to help in any way I can.”

“We just need to talk with you about a few things.”

“Yes, of course.”

“First, my sincere condolences.”

Her face froze. Was she trying to eke out a tear?

“Thank you,” she finally said. 

“We’ll do our best to solve this senseless murder. Before going forward, are you sure you don’t want a lawyer present?”

She blinked. “A lawyer? Why would I need a lawyer?”

Max smiled at the hubris of people who were too smart for their own good. Atta girl.

“As you might expect family members are persons of interest.”

“I understand.” 

“Mrs. Abbott, it has come to our attention that you and your husband were not on the best of terms.”

“Excuse me?”

“It has also come to our attention that your husband wanted a divorce.”

“Divorce?”

Max smiled. She was asking more questions than she was answering. A dead giveaway of a liar.

“Mrs. Abbott do you know Mr. Brandon Sills?”

“Brandon? We’re friends. He coaches me in golf.”

The detective nodded, looked at his notes, then met Blondie’s gaze. “I’m afraid, I have to ask you something, get it out of the way. You understand.”

She sat taller and batted her eyelashes. “Of course. Anything you say detective.”

Oh Blondie. Who was the spider, who was the fly?

“Did you and Mr. Sills kill your husband?”

The detective’s approach was hardly subtle, but Max loved it.

Blondie suddenly covered her face with the hanky. Shaking her head she mumbled, “My God no.”

Detective Horn pulled out the tape recorder and hit
play
. Blondie’s voice came through loud and clear,
“It’s me…Then listen. This guy came in here a minute ago. Max somebody. Said he knew the family. Have you heard of him… What’s going on at your end?... Five hundred? What feet… Don’t screw it up again…About tomorrow. I’m sick of waiting for the right time. Shoot the sucker… Damn that little bitch... Just do it.”

 
As her words filled the room, she glared at the tape recorder. The corner of her eye twitched. Finally some emotion.

The tape recorder clicked. Detective Horn asked, “Do you recall having this conversation.”

Max leaned forward and watched every nuance. Her eyes were darting side to side. Clearly her mind was racing. She needed to come up with an explanation. 

“Who were you speaking with Mrs. Abbott?”

She stared at the floor. 

“Mrs. Abbott?”

She looked at the detective. “Brandon,” she said simply.

This was going to be easier than Max had anticipated. Come on Blondie. 

“I see,” said the detective. “Would you care to expound?”

She took a deep breath. “A man stopped by my shop yesterday. He said he knew my husband years ago. Apparently he was a friend of my husband’s first wife. This made me very uncomfortable, given the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?”

“Detective Horn, my husband was a widower when I married him. His wife had  accidentally drowned. But over the last few months his daughter has been acting odd, obsessing over her dead mother.”

“Mrs. Abbott what does this have to do with the tape?”

“Naturally, my husband was becoming increasingly concerned. He didn’t know what to think or how to handle the situation. But I found out what was going on and needed proof to show him. Fact was, I did want Brandon to shoot someone. But it certainly wasn’t my husband. And it certainly wasn’t with a gun. I wanted him to take a picture.”

“A picture?”

“Yes, a picture of the person who killed my husband.”

“And who was that Mrs. Abbott?”

She looked pointedly at the detective. “Detective Horn, you are right to suspect family. Clay was killed by his wife, his first wife, Nancy Abbott.” 

Max’s stomach bottomed out. “Bitch.”

***

Paloma had been pacing for the last two hours. Her leg was killing her, but every time she sat or laid down, her heart skipped beats. Suddenly the phone rang. She lunged for it. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” said Max.

“Where are you? Is Maddie all right?”

“She’s fine. We’re at the police station.”

“How are things going?”

“Just came out of the observation room. They’ve been questioning Natalie.”

“So they believed you?”

“Yes. But Natalie’s holding up well. Giving the performance of her life. All lies of course. And we’ll certainly be able to prove her wrong. Still, there are some snags.”