Smash Cut (8 page)
Authors: Sandra Brown
Tags: #Legal, #Suspense, #Fiction, #General, #Georgia, #Thrillers, #Rich people, #Atlanta (Ga.), #Trials (Murder), #Legal stories, #Rich People - Georgia
Her oblique parting statement, Youve been had, suddenly begins to make sense. A kind of sense, anyway. He turned to face her, apparently expecting her to respond. When she didnt, he asked, What did you mean by your last statement to the reporter?
Exactly what I said. It wasnt a robbery.
A masked man holds a group of people at gunpoint, demands they hand over their valuables, and its not a robbery?
It was a murder, Mr. Mitchell. An assassination. Paul was meant to die. The robbery was to disguise that it was premeditated and planned.
Planned by Creighton Wheeler, I presume.
Thats no presumption.
You sound certain that he was behind it.
I am.
Well, apparently the police dont share your conviction, or he would already have been charged.
They dont have any evidence.
Do you?
She remained silent. Even if she had a smoking gun connecting Creighton to the murder, Derek Mitchell was the last person on earth with whom she would share it. But that point was moot because she didnt have any evidence. She said, The detectives are still questioning Creighton even though he provided an alibi. Doesnt that strike you as odd?
Not really. Cops do odd things all the time.
Ive had several meetings with Sanford and Kimball. Both strike me as extremely competent.
His chagrined expression led her to believe he agreed but was too stubborn to admit it. Ive never met Roberta Kimball, he said.
Sanford?
I know him in passing and by reputation.
Does that reputation include his propensity to do odd things?
Make your point, he said with irritation.
My point is, why would Sanford and Kimball keep returning to Creighton unless they suspected him of involvement, at least on some level? I
know
hes involved. And Doug fears it. If he didnt, he wouldnt have retained you before a pit bull of a lawyer was even needed. By hiring you, he was laying his groundwork.
As you laid yours. So to speak.
The play on words was deliberate, and again, her cheeks flamed, but she didnt avert her eyes from his. Thats right. I made a preemptive strike.
There are a lot of excellent trial lawyers out there, Ms. Rutledge. And the Wheelers can afford the best. Do you plan to fuck all of them?
She marched to the door and yanked it open. But in an equally decisive motion, he reached over her shoulder and pushed it shut with the flat of his hand, then kept it there. She turned in the tight space he allowed her.
You went to great lengths to disqualify me, Ms. Rutledge.
You have no idea.
I guess I should be flattered that you were so scared of me.
Youre noted for being ruthless. You and Creighton would have made a good team.
What does that mean?
I think you get my gist.
In fact I dont, because I dont know Creighton Wheeler. Furthermore, I didnt know you before that Delta flight. What happened on that airplane took place before Id met Doug Wheeler or even knew that his brother had been shot and killed. Technically, Im blameless. Off the hook. I can handle the case if I bloody well want to.
Not even you, Mr. Mitchell, as arrogant as you are, would dare go to trial representing Creighton knowing that I would be testifying for the prosecution. And even if you were willing to flirt with disbarment, Id make certain it never happened.
You couldnt, not without admitting your own culpability.
Which I would do. Dont doubt it for a moment.
Youd go public with what we did in that lavatory?
Believe it.
Your lovers body was barely cold. For all its nouveau sophisti cation, this is still the South. The old guard, who are Paul Wheelers friends and associates, would be horrified. His eyes made a quick survey of the room. Your fancy clientele would never darken the door of this place again. Theyd never spend another cent of their old money with you. They might forgive you for what you did on that airplane, but theyd never forgive you for flaunting it and dragging Paul Wheelers name, and that of his sainted wife, Mary, through the muck. You trash your reputation, you trash his.
Its for him I did it. Speaking with vehemence, she pushed him aside so she would no longer be sandwiched between him and the door. Pauls nephew had him killed. Paul would want me to expose Creightons crime. He would expect me to go to great lengths, as you put it, to see Creighton punished.
His eyes were hazel, flecked with chocolate-colored spots. They held her gaze for what became an uncomfortably long time. You did it for Paul Wheeler?
She drew herself up to her full height and bobbed her head.
Thats the only reason?
Yes.
For him?
Yes.
He looked her over, his eyes lighting on spots he knew by touch. He smiled as he would when he knew hed riddled an eyewitnesss account. Fool yourself, Julie. Or try. But you dont fool me.
Exactly what I said. It wasnt a robbery.
A masked man holds a group of people at gunpoint, demands they hand over their valuables, and its not a robbery?
It was a murder, Mr. Mitchell. An assassination. Paul was meant to die. The robbery was to disguise that it was premeditated and planned.
Planned by Creighton Wheeler, I presume.
Thats no presumption.
You sound certain that he was behind it.
I am.
Well, apparently the police dont share your conviction, or he would already have been charged.
They dont have any evidence.
Do you?
She remained silent. Even if she had a smoking gun connecting Creighton to the murder, Derek Mitchell was the last person on earth with whom she would share it. But that point was moot because she didnt have any evidence. She said, The detectives are still questioning Creighton even though he provided an alibi. Doesnt that strike you as odd?
Not really. Cops do odd things all the time.
Ive had several meetings with Sanford and Kimball. Both strike me as extremely competent.
His chagrined expression led her to believe he agreed but was too stubborn to admit it. Ive never met Roberta Kimball, he said.
Sanford?
I know him in passing and by reputation.
Does that reputation include his propensity to do odd things?
Make your point, he said with irritation.
My point is, why would Sanford and Kimball keep returning to Creighton unless they suspected him of involvement, at least on some level? I
know
hes involved. And Doug fears it. If he didnt, he wouldnt have retained you before a pit bull of a lawyer was even needed. By hiring you, he was laying his groundwork.
As you laid yours. So to speak.
The play on words was deliberate, and again, her cheeks flamed, but she didnt avert her eyes from his. Thats right. I made a preemptive strike.
There are a lot of excellent trial lawyers out there, Ms. Rutledge. And the Wheelers can afford the best. Do you plan to fuck all of them?
She marched to the door and yanked it open. But in an equally decisive motion, he reached over her shoulder and pushed it shut with the flat of his hand, then kept it there. She turned in the tight space he allowed her.
You went to great lengths to disqualify me, Ms. Rutledge.
You have no idea.
I guess I should be flattered that you were so scared of me.
Youre noted for being ruthless. You and Creighton would have made a good team.
What does that mean?
I think you get my gist.
In fact I dont, because I dont know Creighton Wheeler. Furthermore, I didnt know you before that Delta flight. What happened on that airplane took place before Id met Doug Wheeler or even knew that his brother had been shot and killed. Technically, Im blameless. Off the hook. I can handle the case if I bloody well want to.
Not even you, Mr. Mitchell, as arrogant as you are, would dare go to trial representing Creighton knowing that I would be testifying for the prosecution. And even if you were willing to flirt with disbarment, Id make certain it never happened.
You couldnt, not without admitting your own culpability.
Which I would do. Dont doubt it for a moment.
Youd go public with what we did in that lavatory?
Believe it.
Your lovers body was barely cold. For all its nouveau sophisti cation, this is still the South. The old guard, who are Paul Wheelers friends and associates, would be horrified. His eyes made a quick survey of the room. Your fancy clientele would never darken the door of this place again. Theyd never spend another cent of their old money with you. They might forgive you for what you did on that airplane, but theyd never forgive you for flaunting it and dragging Paul Wheelers name, and that of his sainted wife, Mary, through the muck. You trash your reputation, you trash his.
Its for him I did it. Speaking with vehemence, she pushed him aside so she would no longer be sandwiched between him and the door. Pauls nephew had him killed. Paul would want me to expose Creightons crime. He would expect me to go to great lengths, as you put it, to see Creighton punished.
His eyes were hazel, flecked with chocolate-colored spots. They held her gaze for what became an uncomfortably long time. You did it for Paul Wheeler?
She drew herself up to her full height and bobbed her head.
Thats the only reason?
Yes.
For him?
Yes.
He looked her over, his eyes lighting on spots he knew by touch. He smiled as he would when he knew hed riddled an eyewitnesss account. Fool yourself, Julie. Or try. But you dont fool me.
CHAPTER
8
K
ATE POKED HER HEAD AROUND THE OFFICE DOOR AND looked at Julie expectantly. Well?
Julie pretended to be assessing the long-distance charges on the telephone bill. She hadnt escorted Derek Mitchell out. Treating her to that arrogant smile, hed reached behind him and turned the doorknob, then left. Shed waited a full sixty seconds after his departure before leaving the parlor.
Shed slipped into the tiny bathroom reserved for her and Kate, where she swallowed two aspirin tablets to help stave off an oncoming headache, washed her hands, and wished they would stop shaking. Bracing them on the small sink, she took a series of deep breaths.
Get a grip, Julie.
She retreated into the office and attacked the pile of mail. But she should have known that Kates curiosity and sense of drama would be demanding details.
She kept her eyes on the phone bill. Well, what?
What did you think of him?
Mr. Mitchell? She feigned indifference. He dresses with good taste. Whether or not that translates to artwork remains to be seen. I bounced some ideas off him, which will help me in the selection process.
But what did you think of
him
? I thought he was perfectly dreamy.
Julie frowned. Isnt he a little old for you?
About the same age difference as between you and Paul.
That was different.
How so?
I was older when I met Paul, so the gap didnt seem that wide. Youre still years away from thirty.
Kate was irrepressible. While yall were in the parlor, I did a Google search. Hes a hotshot lawyer. Criminal defense. Hes done very well, and best of all, hes single.
Julie dropped the phone bill onto the stack of others and rubbed her forehead where the headache was defying the analgesics. Kate, Ive got a mound of work here to attend to.
Finally some of the younger womans effervescence fizzled. Okay. But I thought he was yummy. With the dog and all.
The phone rang. Kate reached across her to answer it. Chez Jean. How can I help you? She listened, then asked the caller to hold on and handed the phone to Julie. Detective Sanford.
ATE POKED HER HEAD AROUND THE OFFICE DOOR AND looked at Julie expectantly. Well?
Julie pretended to be assessing the long-distance charges on the telephone bill. She hadnt escorted Derek Mitchell out. Treating her to that arrogant smile, hed reached behind him and turned the doorknob, then left. Shed waited a full sixty seconds after his departure before leaving the parlor.
Shed slipped into the tiny bathroom reserved for her and Kate, where she swallowed two aspirin tablets to help stave off an oncoming headache, washed her hands, and wished they would stop shaking. Bracing them on the small sink, she took a series of deep breaths.
Get a grip, Julie.
She retreated into the office and attacked the pile of mail. But she should have known that Kates curiosity and sense of drama would be demanding details.
She kept her eyes on the phone bill. Well, what?
What did you think of him?
Mr. Mitchell? She feigned indifference. He dresses with good taste. Whether or not that translates to artwork remains to be seen. I bounced some ideas off him, which will help me in the selection process.
But what did you think of
him
? I thought he was perfectly dreamy.
Julie frowned. Isnt he a little old for you?
About the same age difference as between you and Paul.
That was different.
How so?
I was older when I met Paul, so the gap didnt seem that wide. Youre still years away from thirty.
Kate was irrepressible. While yall were in the parlor, I did a Google search. Hes a hotshot lawyer. Criminal defense. Hes done very well, and best of all, hes single.
Julie dropped the phone bill onto the stack of others and rubbed her forehead where the headache was defying the analgesics. Kate, Ive got a mound of work here to attend to.
Finally some of the younger womans effervescence fizzled. Okay. But I thought he was yummy. With the dog and all.
The phone rang. Kate reached across her to answer it. Chez Jean. How can I help you? She listened, then asked the caller to hold on and handed the phone to Julie. Detective Sanford.
Thank you for coming so quickly, Ms. Rutledge. Sanford motioned her into a chair in his cubicle, which unfortunately, had become familiar territory to her.
You said it was important.
We hope so. Roberta Kimball had been waiting with him when Julie arrived. Weve isolated a guy on the lobby security video.
Sanford sat down in his desk chair and got straight to the point. He was definitely in the hotel during the time of the robbery, but hes not on the garage security videos, and he didnt use a valet.
He didnt want a car traced, is what we guess, Kimball said. We have him entering at twelve-forty-two and walking out at three-fifteen and change, which is approximately the same time the elevator reached the lobby and chaos ensued.
Between the eighth floor and the lobby, the elevator didnt stop. Does the timing work? Julie asked.
Kimball nodded. He was relying on everyones shock. While our young man from California was gathering his wits enough to close the door and push the Down button, our culprit would have had time to duck into the stairwell, take off the tracksuit, slip into shoes, and run down the eight flights. Hed have hustled, but we had a couple of officers, including Sanford here, run it. It can be done.
Hes not an employee, Sanford said. Management doesnt believe he was a guest, either. None of the reception desk personnel remember checking him in, and theyre trained to remember faces and names. Part of the service the Moultrie is famous for is addressing guests by name as soon as they arrive. The doorman is certain he saw him, but he doesnt remember handling luggage for him or passing him on to a bellman or check-in personnel.
No one remembers anyone speaking in a voice like that which you and the others in the elevator described, Kimball said.
Before her trip to France, Julie had spent several hours listening to recordings of distinctive voices, but it had been a waste of time. The other victims? she asked now. When they listened to the recordings
They said the same as you. None exactly matched his, so thats a dead end.
After a pause, Sanford continued. Were polling groups that were holding meetings in the hotel that day. Still waiting to see if one can claim him. One hotel housekeeper thinks she remembers seeing him that day on one of the guest room floors, but she cant be sure.
Shes not sure the sky is blue, Kimball said drily. She cant be sure of which floor she saw him on, even if it is the same guy, and shes wishy-washy on that. Were not counting on her. Personally, I think she IDd him because she wanted the attention.
Were circulating this photo to guests of the hotel, Sanford went on. But thats a hell of a chore. Its been almost two weeks. People are scattered all over. A few are overseas. So its a time-consuming process, and eventually someone may identify him as a harmless visitor who was there to see them during their stay, in which case well be back to square one.
Beat officers are showing the photo around to paid snitches. Nothing so far. Which doesnt mean they dont recognize him. Just means theyre not disposed to identifying him. Same with pawnshops. If hes fenced the stuff he stole, nobodys telling.
Weve also got cops looking through mug shots, but even if hes been booked for armed robbery or any other crime, appearances can change, and this isnt the best-quality photo because its a freeze-frame taken off the video.
A jerky video, Kimball added. Poor lighting. Bad angle. Hes not much more than a blob, but its a start.
Sanford concluded with We thought you should have a look.
He removed an eight-by-ten photograph from a manila envelope. Julies heart was thudding as she reached for it. She glanced at it, then looked up at the detectives, and she knew her reaction must be apparent.
Are you kidding?
This is it?
I warned you it was lousy. In fact, in light of this, the Moultrie has replaced their security cameras with newer models and updated their entire system.
Julie studied the photo but shook her head with dismay. This could be anybody.
You dont recognize him? Kimball pressed.
Not even vaguely.
The photograph has been enlarged, Sanford said, so its even grainier than the video. Look again. Try to piece together the pixels.
Julie did as asked, but it was hopeless. The face was a smear of light and shadow, obviously male, but beyond that indistinguishable. She passed the picture back to Sanford. I wish I could give you a name, believe me.
Well, it was worth a try. Sanford slid the photo back into the envelope.
Have you shown it to anyone else? The other victims of the robbery?
Weve both faxed and e-mailed it, Kimball said. The ladies in Nashville got back to us immediately with a negative. Were waiting to hear from the Californian. Its still early out there.
What about Doug? Creighton?
Sanford nodded. It occurred to us that the shooter could be an ex-employee of Wheeler Enterprises who had a grudge against his boss. We asked Doug Wheeler to come in, take a look. He referred us to his lawyer. As of yesterday, he has a new one.
Kimball snorted with obvious distaste. Derek Mitchell. A scourge.
Julie tried to keep her expression impassive. Why?
He wins.
No, I mean why did they retain a new lawyer?
Neither of the detectives ventured an opinion, but Julie detected that her seemingly innocent question had resonated with them. It sounds as though theyre nervous, doesnt it?
Kimball and Sanford exchanged a look. As though taking a cue, Sanford stood up and excused himself to make a call. You ladies are free to use my space here as long as you need to. Excuse me.
Once he was out of earshot, Julie smiled at Roberta Kimball. You two communicate without language. Ive noticed it on more than one occasion.
Weve been working together for a couple of years, but it seems like much longer. When we were assigned to each other, we clicked instantly. Our investigative methods are compatible, and so are our personalities.
Yet youre so different.
Cant argue that, she said affably. Black, white. Male, female. Married, single. Tall and thin. Short and stout. Maybe the differences are why the partnership works.
Julie assessed the detective for a moment, then asked, So which are you?
Im the short and stout one.
Julie smiled. Are you the good cop, or the bad cop?
Kimball, not in the least abashed, smiled back. Where do you shop?
Pardon me?
Where do you buy your clothes? You always look so right.
Thank you.
Of course if I tried to wear a little black dress like that, it would be a fashion fiasco. Kimballs smile was good-natured and self-deprecating. She picked up a bronze paperweight that was shaped like the bulldog mascot of the University of Georgia and fiddled with it absently, all the time watching Julie. Finally she said, Were both the good cop.
Julie drew in a long breath, let it out. I suppose that depends on ones point of view.
Yeah, I suppose it does.
Whats the next step with the security videos, the photograph?
We continue showing the still around, hoping somebody can ID the guy and either clear him or incriminate him. In the meantime, were looking at the videos recorded three days prior to the shooting. The hotel keeps them for only four days before recording over them, so thats as far back as we can go.
Weve got techies looking at them frame by frame to see if they can spot this guy again. And if they do, hell go to the head of the list as a viable suspect. Because in order to pull this off, he had to know where he was going, how long it would take him to do all that in the stairwell and get out before the shutdown.
He would have cased the joint.
Kimball laughed at Julies deliberate use of jargon, so Julie was caught a bit off guard when the detective asked abruptly, What do you think of Creighton Wheeler?
I believe Ive made plain my low opinion of him.
Youve dropped hints that you think hes behind this robbery and shooting.
Julie said nothing.
Actually, your hints have been as obvious as an F-five tornado. Sanford and I would have to be really stupid not to have picked up on them.
I dont believe youre stupid.
The detective returned the paperweight to the desk and folded her arms across her bulge, regarding Julie shrewdly. Do you know Creighton well?
I base my opinion largely on what Paul had told me about him. But my personal dealings with him have borne out everything Paul said.
What personal dealings?
As few as possible, I assure you. But Paul was a very social ani mal. Get-togethers with his family were unavoidable. Holidays. Birthday dinners. Like that.
Do you think Creighton is capable of committing murder?
Julie felt he was, but she couldnt say so with certainty, because she had no basis for her opinion except an intense distrust and dislike of him. Paul had alluded to a darker side of his nephew, which his golden good looks concealed. Her intuition about his true character was strong, but also subjective and therefore fallible. Hedging, she flipped the question. What do
you
think, Ms. Kimball?
Honestly? I think everyones capable of committing murder. But regarding Creighton Wheeler in particular, I think hes a smart-alecky, condescending, rich snot who needs an ass whuppin about as bad as anybody ever did. Kimball frowned. But it seems a little too obvious that he had his uncle bumped off when, upon said uncles death, hes due to inherit a shitload of money.
Youd have to know Creighton. He enjoys inside jokes.
Inside jokes?
He likes being one up on everyone else.
Example?
Hmm. Lets see. Okay, a perfect example. A few months ago I hosted a private showing for a new artist. Champagne and caviar. Distinguished guest list. You know the scene.
The men in silk turtlenecks, everyone wearing black.
Julie smiled at the detectives accuracy. During the course of the event, I noticed that Creighton and several of the guests were grouped around a particular painting. I went over to see what had drawn them to it.
Julies blood still boiled when she recalled the incident and Creightons smugness. He had sneaked in a canvas and hung it on the wall. It was an awful still life hed picked up at a flea market. Hed forged my featured artists signature on it. He was mocking the artist, my reputation, and my clients, making them out to be gullible art snobs.
What did you do?
I maneuvered them away from him. Removed the painting. No real harm was done. The artist never knew. But thats the kind of cruel trick Creighton likes to play. He likes to make a fool of a person, and anyone is fair game.
He pricks with people. Thats an annoying characteristic, but hardly a crime.
Not to have her theory so blithely dismissed, Julie said, He knows you would think him too glaringly obvious to be a prime suspect. You see? Thats his inside joke, and I promise you, hes laughing up his sleeve.
Kimball stared at Julie thoughtfully, then picked up the manila envelope containing the photograph of the unidentified man and tapped it against her palm. I think thats it for now. We appreciate you coming in.
You said it was important.
We hope so. Roberta Kimball had been waiting with him when Julie arrived. Weve isolated a guy on the lobby security video.
Sanford sat down in his desk chair and got straight to the point. He was definitely in the hotel during the time of the robbery, but hes not on the garage security videos, and he didnt use a valet.
He didnt want a car traced, is what we guess, Kimball said. We have him entering at twelve-forty-two and walking out at three-fifteen and change, which is approximately the same time the elevator reached the lobby and chaos ensued.
Between the eighth floor and the lobby, the elevator didnt stop. Does the timing work? Julie asked.
Kimball nodded. He was relying on everyones shock. While our young man from California was gathering his wits enough to close the door and push the Down button, our culprit would have had time to duck into the stairwell, take off the tracksuit, slip into shoes, and run down the eight flights. Hed have hustled, but we had a couple of officers, including Sanford here, run it. It can be done.
Hes not an employee, Sanford said. Management doesnt believe he was a guest, either. None of the reception desk personnel remember checking him in, and theyre trained to remember faces and names. Part of the service the Moultrie is famous for is addressing guests by name as soon as they arrive. The doorman is certain he saw him, but he doesnt remember handling luggage for him or passing him on to a bellman or check-in personnel.
No one remembers anyone speaking in a voice like that which you and the others in the elevator described, Kimball said.
Before her trip to France, Julie had spent several hours listening to recordings of distinctive voices, but it had been a waste of time. The other victims? she asked now. When they listened to the recordings
They said the same as you. None exactly matched his, so thats a dead end.
After a pause, Sanford continued. Were polling groups that were holding meetings in the hotel that day. Still waiting to see if one can claim him. One hotel housekeeper thinks she remembers seeing him that day on one of the guest room floors, but she cant be sure.
Shes not sure the sky is blue, Kimball said drily. She cant be sure of which floor she saw him on, even if it is the same guy, and shes wishy-washy on that. Were not counting on her. Personally, I think she IDd him because she wanted the attention.
Were circulating this photo to guests of the hotel, Sanford went on. But thats a hell of a chore. Its been almost two weeks. People are scattered all over. A few are overseas. So its a time-consuming process, and eventually someone may identify him as a harmless visitor who was there to see them during their stay, in which case well be back to square one.
Beat officers are showing the photo around to paid snitches. Nothing so far. Which doesnt mean they dont recognize him. Just means theyre not disposed to identifying him. Same with pawnshops. If hes fenced the stuff he stole, nobodys telling.
Weve also got cops looking through mug shots, but even if hes been booked for armed robbery or any other crime, appearances can change, and this isnt the best-quality photo because its a freeze-frame taken off the video.
A jerky video, Kimball added. Poor lighting. Bad angle. Hes not much more than a blob, but its a start.
Sanford concluded with We thought you should have a look.
He removed an eight-by-ten photograph from a manila envelope. Julies heart was thudding as she reached for it. She glanced at it, then looked up at the detectives, and she knew her reaction must be apparent.
Are you kidding?
This is it?
I warned you it was lousy. In fact, in light of this, the Moultrie has replaced their security cameras with newer models and updated their entire system.
Julie studied the photo but shook her head with dismay. This could be anybody.
You dont recognize him? Kimball pressed.
Not even vaguely.
The photograph has been enlarged, Sanford said, so its even grainier than the video. Look again. Try to piece together the pixels.
Julie did as asked, but it was hopeless. The face was a smear of light and shadow, obviously male, but beyond that indistinguishable. She passed the picture back to Sanford. I wish I could give you a name, believe me.
Well, it was worth a try. Sanford slid the photo back into the envelope.
Have you shown it to anyone else? The other victims of the robbery?
Weve both faxed and e-mailed it, Kimball said. The ladies in Nashville got back to us immediately with a negative. Were waiting to hear from the Californian. Its still early out there.
What about Doug? Creighton?
Sanford nodded. It occurred to us that the shooter could be an ex-employee of Wheeler Enterprises who had a grudge against his boss. We asked Doug Wheeler to come in, take a look. He referred us to his lawyer. As of yesterday, he has a new one.
Kimball snorted with obvious distaste. Derek Mitchell. A scourge.
Julie tried to keep her expression impassive. Why?
He wins.
No, I mean why did they retain a new lawyer?
Neither of the detectives ventured an opinion, but Julie detected that her seemingly innocent question had resonated with them. It sounds as though theyre nervous, doesnt it?
Kimball and Sanford exchanged a look. As though taking a cue, Sanford stood up and excused himself to make a call. You ladies are free to use my space here as long as you need to. Excuse me.
Once he was out of earshot, Julie smiled at Roberta Kimball. You two communicate without language. Ive noticed it on more than one occasion.
Weve been working together for a couple of years, but it seems like much longer. When we were assigned to each other, we clicked instantly. Our investigative methods are compatible, and so are our personalities.
Yet youre so different.
Cant argue that, she said affably. Black, white. Male, female. Married, single. Tall and thin. Short and stout. Maybe the differences are why the partnership works.
Julie assessed the detective for a moment, then asked, So which are you?
Im the short and stout one.
Julie smiled. Are you the good cop, or the bad cop?
Kimball, not in the least abashed, smiled back. Where do you shop?
Pardon me?
Where do you buy your clothes? You always look so right.
Thank you.
Of course if I tried to wear a little black dress like that, it would be a fashion fiasco. Kimballs smile was good-natured and self-deprecating. She picked up a bronze paperweight that was shaped like the bulldog mascot of the University of Georgia and fiddled with it absently, all the time watching Julie. Finally she said, Were both the good cop.
Julie drew in a long breath, let it out. I suppose that depends on ones point of view.
Yeah, I suppose it does.
Whats the next step with the security videos, the photograph?
We continue showing the still around, hoping somebody can ID the guy and either clear him or incriminate him. In the meantime, were looking at the videos recorded three days prior to the shooting. The hotel keeps them for only four days before recording over them, so thats as far back as we can go.
Weve got techies looking at them frame by frame to see if they can spot this guy again. And if they do, hell go to the head of the list as a viable suspect. Because in order to pull this off, he had to know where he was going, how long it would take him to do all that in the stairwell and get out before the shutdown.
He would have cased the joint.
Kimball laughed at Julies deliberate use of jargon, so Julie was caught a bit off guard when the detective asked abruptly, What do you think of Creighton Wheeler?
I believe Ive made plain my low opinion of him.
Youve dropped hints that you think hes behind this robbery and shooting.
Julie said nothing.
Actually, your hints have been as obvious as an F-five tornado. Sanford and I would have to be really stupid not to have picked up on them.
I dont believe youre stupid.
The detective returned the paperweight to the desk and folded her arms across her bulge, regarding Julie shrewdly. Do you know Creighton well?
I base my opinion largely on what Paul had told me about him. But my personal dealings with him have borne out everything Paul said.
What personal dealings?
As few as possible, I assure you. But Paul was a very social ani mal. Get-togethers with his family were unavoidable. Holidays. Birthday dinners. Like that.
Do you think Creighton is capable of committing murder?
Julie felt he was, but she couldnt say so with certainty, because she had no basis for her opinion except an intense distrust and dislike of him. Paul had alluded to a darker side of his nephew, which his golden good looks concealed. Her intuition about his true character was strong, but also subjective and therefore fallible. Hedging, she flipped the question. What do
you
think, Ms. Kimball?
Honestly? I think everyones capable of committing murder. But regarding Creighton Wheeler in particular, I think hes a smart-alecky, condescending, rich snot who needs an ass whuppin about as bad as anybody ever did. Kimball frowned. But it seems a little too obvious that he had his uncle bumped off when, upon said uncles death, hes due to inherit a shitload of money.
Youd have to know Creighton. He enjoys inside jokes.
Inside jokes?
He likes being one up on everyone else.
Example?
Hmm. Lets see. Okay, a perfect example. A few months ago I hosted a private showing for a new artist. Champagne and caviar. Distinguished guest list. You know the scene.
The men in silk turtlenecks, everyone wearing black.
Julie smiled at the detectives accuracy. During the course of the event, I noticed that Creighton and several of the guests were grouped around a particular painting. I went over to see what had drawn them to it.
Julies blood still boiled when she recalled the incident and Creightons smugness. He had sneaked in a canvas and hung it on the wall. It was an awful still life hed picked up at a flea market. Hed forged my featured artists signature on it. He was mocking the artist, my reputation, and my clients, making them out to be gullible art snobs.
What did you do?
I maneuvered them away from him. Removed the painting. No real harm was done. The artist never knew. But thats the kind of cruel trick Creighton likes to play. He likes to make a fool of a person, and anyone is fair game.
He pricks with people. Thats an annoying characteristic, but hardly a crime.
Not to have her theory so blithely dismissed, Julie said, He knows you would think him too glaringly obvious to be a prime suspect. You see? Thats his inside joke, and I promise you, hes laughing up his sleeve.
Kimball stared at Julie thoughtfully, then picked up the manila envelope containing the photograph of the unidentified man and tapped it against her palm. I think thats it for now. We appreciate you coming in.
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