Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (84 page)

Lacy adjusted her position on the sofa so she could look Shelly directly in the eyes. “You claim that the neighbor who said you visited Mr. Fisher's apartment recently was simply mistaken. Is that correct?"

Shelly shrugged her shoulders. “It wasn't me."

Cranfield cleared his throat. “Mrs. Pond, two of our deputies photographed you entering the apartment complex in which Mr. Fisher resides this morning at nine oh five. You left at nine twenty-nine. This is not a case of mistaken identity. I remind you, Mrs. Pond, we have photographic evidence."

Shelly's eyes turned glassy.

Lacy shifted in her seat and leveled her eyes at Shelly. “It's time for you to tell the truth about Boyd Fisher."

Shelly swallowed hard and looked at Cranfield for compassion. He offered none.

“Boyd was insanely jealous when I married Sam. At one time, I loved Boyd dearly, but he refused to marry me when I became pregnant. He wouldn't even pay for the delivery. He ... he started seeing other people from time to time. Eventually I left him—right after Annie was born."

“You were living with him at the time?"

Shelly nodded. “As soon as I got my figure back I started working as a stripper. I perfected the art in several clubs and, after a couple of years, became the headliner at the Crazy Cat Club. Boyd found out I was making good money and came to my apartment a couple of times. All he wanted was money and sex. The last time he visited, I think Annie was about one and a half years old. She wasn't feeling well and was whining a lot. Boyd was drinking, as usual, and beat her. I told him to get out and never come back."

Shelly reached for a tissue on the coffee table, surprised at the tears but glad they emerged. She hoped they would add credibility to her story. “That was the last time I saw him until today."

“And why did you go to see him this morning?” Lacy asked. “It was Boyd's name you cried out on the beach after your husband was shot, wasn't it Mrs. Pond? You knew the assailant was Mr. Fisher."

“You put it in my head that it might have been Boyd. Maybe I did shout his name. I was confused—scared—shit, I thought Sam was dead. The body-build and mannerisms of the masked man were like Boyd's. It could have been him."

“How about the voice?"

“The voice was familiar too.” Familiar, but was it Boyd's voice? Shelly asked herself. “When I arrived at home and found someone had stolen my gun, I realized Boyd knew I kept it in my glove compartment. I figured he stole it and used it to shoot Sam."

Cranfield pulled up a chair directly in front of Shelly. “Now why would he do that? Why would he steal your gun and drive all the way to Myrtle Beach to attack you and your husband?"

Shelly's head was spinning. She fought for the right words. “He ... he was insanely jealous when he found out I married Sam. I guess he thought I'd always be available. I just couldn't believe he'd do a thing like that. That's why I went to see him this morning. He said he didn't do it and I believe him."

“Wait just a minute, Mrs. Pond,” Cranfield said. “How do you know he was insanely jealous when you and Mr. Pond were married?"

Shit! Think, Shelly. “He ... he sent me an email—said he'd marry me if I'd leave Sam."

The detectives glanced at each other as Lacy asked, “Did you answer him?"

“Yes. I told him I love Sam and will never leave him."

“And Mr. Fisher's response?” Cranfield asked.

“He said that if he couldn't have me, nobody could."

“Let me be sure I have this straight,” Lacy said. “Mr. Fisher threatened Sam's life and you recognized the assailant as being Mr. Fisher, but you refused to tell us about it."

“No. That's not the way it was. You're trying to put words in my mouth. Boyd's always been a braggart—a liar. I thought he was joking or something."

Cranfield scratched his chin and looked at the ceiling. “How do you suppose Mr. Fisher knew you would be at the beach this past weekend?"

“I ... I don't know. It may not have been Boyd."

“Well, if it wasn't Mr. Fisher, it certainly was someone from Dot, since it was your weapon that was used,” Cranfield observed.

“Maybe—hell, I don't know but a handful of people in Dot. The burglar may have been someone just passing through."

Cranfield chuckled. “Passing through Dot? That's highly unlikely. In case you haven't noticed, Dot is far off the beaten path."

“Is it possible,” Lacy asked, “that you told Mr. Fisher about the planned honeymoon?"

Shelly grasped at the straw. “Maybe—I might have mentioned it in the same email when I told Boyd how much I love Sam."

“Are those messages on the computer we found in the other room?” Cranfield asked.

“Yes. No. That's the computer I use, but I always delete messages to save hard disk space."

Cranfield nodded. “Most people do."

Lacy stood and looked down at Shelly. “Mrs. Pond, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense."

“Wait! No! You can't do this! What's the charge? I've done nothing wrong."

“The charge, Mrs. Pond, is obstruction of justice. You should have told us about Mr. Fisher when we first questioned you."

Cranfield stood and removed handcuffs from his belt. “Stand up, Mrs. Pond, and put your hands behind you."

Shelly was in a state of shock. She obediently stood and, sobbing, cried, “Annie?"

“I don't think cuffs are necessary, Bud,” Lacy said. “Where is Annie, Mrs. Pond?"

“She's next door. Bond. Can I get out on bond?"

Lacy shook her head decisively. “We can hold you for up to three days without allowing a bond hearing. I intend to do just that. When I am convinced you have told us the whole truth, I'll recommend your release on bond—if you are very cooperative, I may recommend release on your own recognizance."

“Annie? What about Annie?"

“Social Services will look after Annie just as they did at Myrtle Beach."

“Please let me say goodbye to her."

The detectives exchanged glances. “I know the folks next door,” Cranfield said. “I'll take her while you finish up here."

Borders was in his backyard, flicking Japanese Beetles from rose bushes into a coffee can partially filled with turpentine. He looked up as Shelly and Cranfield emerged from the pine break between the houses. “Hi Bud—Shelly. What's up?"

“Mr. Borders,” Shelly asked, unable to hold back the tears, “where's Annie?"

“Leora took Annie and the twins to the pool. Is something wrong?"

“I'm afraid Mrs. Pond withheld vital information concerning the assault at Myrtle Beach. She's being detained on a charge of obstruction of justice,” Cranfield explained.

“It's just a misunderstanding,” Shelly sobbed. “I didn't mean to withhold information. I was upset—confused—I hadn't slept in two days."

Borders’ hand roamed through his gray hair. “Shelly, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

“Annie."

“Of course. We'll look after her."

“Social Services will give you a call later, Borders,” Bud said.

“Mr. Borders, please don't tell Annie I've been arrested,” Shelly pleaded.

As Cranfield turned Shelly back towards her own house, Borders silently mouthed, “Call me."

Bud Cranfield nodded.

When they were back in her own yard, Shelly saw Detective Lacy Spencer loading a Macintosh computer in the trunk of the patrol car.

“Cranfield, here. You wanted me to call you, Julius?"

“You call me by my first name again and I'll show you that this old man still has one hell of a right cross,” Borders joked.

“Sorry, Borders. I can't help needling you once in a while."

“What's going on with Shelly Pond, Bud?"

“It looks like she knew all along that the guy who shot her husband is her former lover—the little girl's father—Boyd Fisher. She was caught in her own tangled web of lies."

“You don't think she was in any way involved, do you?"

“Hard to tell at this point. Did you know Sam Pond has a five million dollar life insurance policy?"

Borders whistled. “You looking at a love triangle?"

“I'm not—at least not yet—but this hotshot female they sent up here from Myrtle Beach has suspected Mrs. Pond's involvement from the very beginning. I don't think this gal from the beach is going to give up until she hangs a conspiracy charge on Mrs. Pond."

“Conspiracy to commit murder?"

“You got it."

“You think it's possible?"

“It's possible, but the charge will never stick if Mrs. Pond will keep her mouth shut. Hell, the obstruction of justice charge won't hold up in court if Mrs. Pond hires a decent lawyer."

“Why's that?"

“My Myrtle Beach bombshell jumped ahead of herself. She squeezed the info about Boyd Fisher out of Mrs. Pond before we Mirandized her. Not one word is admissible in court."

“Bud?"

“Yeah."

“You know you shouldn't have told me that."

“Yep. There's something else I shouldn't tell you, Borders. It was Detective Spencer who read Mrs. Pond her rights—not me."

“And Detective Spencer has no authority in North Carolina, so, legally, Shelly still hasn't been Mirandized. Was the search of Shelly's house legal?"

“Yeah. We obtained a warrant for that."

“You don't think Shelly is guilty of any major offense, do you Bud?"

“I didn't say that."

“Yes, I think you did."

“I'll tell you one thing. You have a fine looking neighbor, Borders. She even looks good in an orange jailhouse jumpsuit."

“Did you check out the fingerprints on Shelly's car?"

“You crazy? There were hundreds of prints."

“But one might belong to the perp."

“It's a long, long shot, Borders. You know that."

“You owe me one, Bud."

“I don't owe you a damn thing, Borders. Get your scrawny butt down here and check them out yourself. You can afford to miss one day on the golf course."

“Maybe it'll rain tomorrow."

“I didn't know a little rain ever stopped you."

“Bud, do I still have security clearance on the department computer system?"

“You will have before I go home tonight."

Shelly sat at the end of a scarred wooden table. Detective Spencer paced at one side of the table and Detective Cranfield sat opposite her.

“You read me my rights yesterday. I didn't know you are required to do it every time you question me."

Cranfield replied, “I just want to make sure you understand the seriousness of your situation and that you have the right to an attorney."

“I don't need an attorney. I haven't done anything wrong. I did not withhold information. It's just that I was frightened—confused. I didn't remember everything at first."

“Did you sleep well last night, Mrs. Pond?” Lacy asked.

“I didn't sleep at all, damn it. You're treating me like a common criminal."

“Your first time in jail?"

“Of course it is. Why can't I wear my own clothes? I hate this orange thing."

“We have regulations, Mrs. Pond. The jumpsuit is the least of your worries."

“Do you remember everything now?” Lacy asked.

“What?"

“About the robbery and shooting."

“I think so, and I've told you everything."

“Not quite everything, Mrs. Pond,” Cranfield said. “We arrested Boyd Fisher late yesterday afternoon and charged him with armed robbery and attempted murder. We confiscated his computer, just as we did yours."

Shelly's face turned white. There's nothing on either computer, she reminded herself.

“Mrs. Pond,” Lacy said as she propped on the table next to Shelly, “we know you personally are more involved in this thing than you have acknowledged. For instance, we know about your husband's large life insurance policy."

“Sam took out the policy just before we were married to provide for Annie in case of his death,” Shelly explained.

“Possibly, but Annie is not the beneficiary—you are. Even though she is a child, he could have named her as the beneficiary with you as her guardian until she comes of age."

“He wanted to provide for me too, damn it. Is Sam the only husband in the world with life insurance?"

“Mr. Fisher says he is innocent. Do you believe him?” Cranfield asked.

“I've already told you I believe him."

“His account of your relationship is quite different from yours. He claims you love him desperately, constantly beg him to have sex with you and ply him with large sums of money in an attempt to get him to marry you,” Cranfield said.

Shelly looked from one detective to the other. “I ... I did love Boyd once. I have given him money, but that was before."

“Before what, Mrs. Pond?” Lacy asked. “Mr. Fisher says you have been to his apartment, begging him for sex even after your marriage. In fact, he claims you gave him directions to your home in Dot and he has visited you several times there, having sex with you in your husband's bed."

“That's a damn lie,” Shelly shouted and she pushed back from the table.

“Sit still,” Detective Spencer instructed.

Cranfield smiled thinly. “Mrs. Pond, how much do you know about computers?"

“I consider myself computer literate, even if I did teach myself to use the thing."

“Do you know how a computer works—what makes it tick?"

“I don't write programs. I use programs. You don't need to know about the details to use a word processor."

Cranfield nodded. “That's me. I can use the dang things, but it beats me how they work—how they store all that information and bring it to the screen with a couple of keystrokes. Fortunately we have experts in the department who do know how they work."

“I'm not following you, Detective,” Shelly said.

“Have you ever heard of a file allocation system?"

Shelly shook her head negatively.

“When we call up a document previously saved to disk, it is the file allocation table the computer searches. If I understand correctly, it's like a book index. Once the computer finds what it's looking for in the file allocation table it knows where to look on the disk for the stored file—just like an index in a book tells you what page the information you seek is on."