“I’ll come straight to the point. Do you remember witnessing a will for Darren Lee Wurtsmith?”
A startled look flitted across Purdue’s face, before his expression quickly altered to one of studied, harried exasperation.
Jimmy grinned. He had him.
“I didn’t witness any will. You must be mistaken.”
“I don’t think so. Anyway, a handwriting expert will know for sure. I’m giving you the opportunity to explain why you didn’t come forward during the trial. Mrs. Ervine and her son needed your testimony. It’s not too late. If you tell the truth, I think I can keep you from being prosecuted.” Looking at the big man beside him, Jimmy didn’t expect to easily intimidate him. But you never knew. Some people just needed a little prodding to do the right thing.
“Again, I didn’t witness a will. And I am running late, and would like you to leave now. I really have to be going.” Purdue stood up and shooed Jimmy toward the door.
Jimmy took the hint, hoping he’d given the man something to think about.
“If you change your mind, give me a call,” he said, holding out one of his cards, which Purdue unwillingly took, his expression showing that he felt there was a good chance the card was contaminated with some foreign disease. Jimmy knew the poor little scrap of paper was destined for the trash. It had done not one thing wrong, but such is the way for business cards.
Back in his car, he pointed the Crown Vic’s nose toward his office. It was noon and he contemplated just locking up and going home. But with painkillers convenient in the medicine cabinet, there was really no excuse. And you never knew, maybe another client would drop in. He could use a few more actually. He should be thankful for the two he had, but he was temporarily stymied on both fronts and he didn’t know what else to do other than wait to see if something broke. He’d rattled cages and now had to be patient, and that wasn’t an easy thing to do.
He was still planning his next move when he arrived back at the office and found the message light blinking on the office phone. The message was from Paul Lewinski. In it, he stated that the cadaver dog had been scheduled for Thursday. Today was Tuesday; only two days before Jimmy’s hunch could be proven right or wrong. He had to grin. His gut feeling about the body buried there would soon be proven right. Only two days and it would be over, and then the Hilton’s would have their little girl back.
Chapter 26
By coincidence, Michelle Miller had made plans to be at the police post that afternoon to review an unrelated case; one she would be paid for. Since it was the only time she expected to be in town until after she returned from vacation the following week, Jimmy agreed to meet her at the precinct at 12:30, thinking that if he got an opportunity to talk with Paul when he returned from lunch, so much the better. He had a few questions about Thursday’s schedule.
Frizzy black curls, ineffectively controlled by a bright lime scarf, radiated around the woman’s head, reminding Jimmy of a children’s song, something about hiding your light under a bushel. In Michelle’s case her ‘light’ was piercing black eyes shining with intelligence and a good deal of laughter from under a bushel basket full of flyaway, completely uncontrollable hair. It wasn’t the bane of her existence however. In fact, she seemed not to care that she had hair. Jimmy had never seen it styled, straightened, or colored in the years he’d known her. Michelle left it natural, flaunting her African heritage.
“Hi there, Jimmy,” she said, drawing the ‘there’ out into ‘thay-er’. She had grown up in Tennessee and the drawl was part of her persona.
“Hi, Michelle. How’s the family?”
“Same ole, same ole. You know how ‘tis. Billy broke his arm on that blasted skateboard and Gina hates the world, ’specially her mama. She’s thirteen now, you know.”
Jimmy nodded his head that he understood the problems of raising teenagers, but in reality he didn’t understand at all. From what he’d heard, this was the age to skip if you had children. Just go straight from ten to eighteen, even if you had to lock them up the whole time to omit those in-between years.
“Now what was it you needed, honey?” Michelle asked. “I’ve got a little time before Jack gets back from lunch.” Jimmy knew whom she referred to. Lieutenant Jack Siles was the one who worked between detectives, the prosecutor, and any professional witness deemed necessary. He oversaw each case. Because of years of experience and a background in law in a younger life, he rarely allowed a case to get on the docket, or even be reviewed by a prosecutor, without obtaining favorable results. He was a man that pushed and frustrated detectives, aggravated attorneys, and installed fear and dread in witnesses. Not a man to provoke. And, in Jimmy’s opinion, a first class cop.
“Tell Jack hi for me,” Jimmy said, grinning, remembering all the times the man had given him stress and all the times it had been just what he’d needed to work the case a little harder. He’d taught him a lot.
“I’ve got a copy of a paternity test here,” he continued. “I’d appreciate it if you’d look at it.”
“Why Jimmy? Is there something you’re not telling? I thought you were old enough to know better,” Michelle teased. She said this in mock shock, batting her thick, black lashes like a southern belle in the company of a suitor.
Jimmy flushed, his face turning pink. Michelle always did this to him. She was so warm and natural, with such a magnetic personality, that they’d flirted since the day they’d first met. If he hadn’t been married to Ada and she to her husband Ray, it might have gone farther. But it hadn’t, no matter what some of the guys thought. No, she would never cheat on Ray and he’d thought he loved Ada. He and Michelle were just good friends.
“No, it’s not mine. I’m too old for that foolishness,” he said shaking his head, even though he grinned. “This is for a client.” He put the printout on the table before her. “I don’t understand what it says. Must be slipping because I’m so ancient.”
Michelle laughed and patted his hand. “You’re not old, Jimmy. Wait until you and Ada have kids. Them kids is what makes you old.”
Jimmy stiffened. Obviously, Michelle didn’t know about the separation and soon-to-be divorce. Should he bother telling her? It was really none of her business and it would do nothing but ruin her day.
“This is strange,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “It says here at the top that the man’s age is eighty-eight.”
Jimmy nodded. “Yes, the child would have been three at the time.” He grinned suggestively at Michelle. “Some men get better with age.”
“You betcha,” she said, her tone dismissing that possibility. “Back to the case, handsome.
“What’s so freakin’ odd is that the sperm count is high. Stratosphere high. It’s even high for a man in his thirties, although not for a seventeen-year-old. Old men can’t compare with teenagers in that regard.”
“Ah, but experience, Michelle. Experience is everything.”
“Right,” she said. This time it was her turn to blush, a rosy tint coloring her milk-chocolate skin. She smiled at him and then brazenly winked and added, “Don’t you know it, baby.”
Suddenly her earlier remark sunk in and Jimmy quickly bent over the report, his eyes riveted to the numbers printed there. He knew instantly that this was the smoking gun and was the proof he’d been searching for. The paternity test had to have been faked, which brought to mind several questions. Who would have switched samples? Had it been done at the old man’s mansion, or at the lab? Was it done by one of the families or a combination of them? Or, had Luther Billings, that strange little man running the lab, been paid to do it? And that brought to mind one last question. Who was the real donor of the sample? He looked back at Michelle, excitement lighting up his face.
“You’re kidding me!” Jimmy exclaimed. “You’re freakin’ kidding me!”
“No, now you know me better than that, sugar.”
“I lo
ve you, you sweet, lovely woman! This is just what I need for the attorney to reopen the case.”
“Fine, honey. Glad I could help,” she patted his hand as she stood to leave. “But from what I can see, this is just the beginning. It means there’s lots of work that has to be done.”
“Looks like it, all right. Just the way I like it, babe. Just the way I like it.”
***
Jimmy stood outside looking in and saw Paul glance up when he knocked at the door. A brief flash of anger passed over the man’s face, but was gone quickly, replaced by a curiously unreadable expression. Jimmy wished he was someplace else and that he hadn’t thought to intrude. He would see Paul soon enough; he didn’t need to push the man’s buttons.
“What the hell’s up with your face?” Paul demanded. “It looks like you got the shit beat out of you. Again.”
“You won’t believe this, but I ran into a door. Seriously.”
“Uh huh.” Paul studied his face looking for deception, but seemed to be unwilling to question further. “Come in, Jimmy,” he said politely, but stiffly. “Did you get my message?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m here. Is it all right with your superiors for me to go out to the farm? I know how picky the agency is with crime scenes.” Jimmy said this quietly, knowing he’d alienated the detective somehow, but not sure of what he’d done. Whatever it was, he hoped to soothe it over.
“Don’t worry about it,” Paul replied. “They’re so happy there’s a chance of closing the case, they’d agree to anything about now. But not to having Abby there, of course. I’m glad you told her she couldn’t go. She doesn’t need to take the risk. You and I both know that she wasn’t involved, but it wouldn’t look good if she lost even one hair at the site, or something stupid like that. In fact, I’m not sure why you took her out there last week. Just why’d you do that?” He said this last in an accusatory manner, his eyes narrowed.
Jimmy now understood why the man’s temper was up. He had spent more time with the woman than what anyone could reasonably expect. And, she was Paul’s girl. Still, it hadn’t been a date, merely business. Although at times, it had felt like a date. To him, anyway.
“I wasn’t sure I could find the place and she said she’d like to see Ruth and Winston again; I guess it had been a while. They were happy to see her.”
Paul stared sharply at him for a brief time before nodding and continuing, “ Ten o’clock. We’ll meet there and hope the dog finds the remains quickly. I’ve got several current cases that need my attention and not enough hours in the blasted day to get things done.” He picked up a pile of papers on his desk and straightened them out before setting them back in the same place.
Jimmy knew he was being dismissed and stood to go, only then noticing a sketch lying on the corner of the desk. He reached a hand forward and turned the drawing toward him to get a better look.
“Boy, whoever drew this sure wanted you to look ornery,” he said, trying to lighten up the mood and not understanding what he was seeing.
A cloud passed over Paul’s face before he smiled and shook his head, appearing embarrassed. “It’s a suspect. In fact, it’s supposed to be Grant Mason. A woman came in and said that she’d been attacked two years ago. This is her (and Jeff’s) rendition of the man who did it. If you look close you can see it’s Mason.”
“Mason?”
“Yeah, Grant Mason. Abby’s ex-husband.” Paul looked him straight in the eye as he said this, but Jimmy knew there was something deceitful in what he was saying. There was nothing that he could point to that suggested the other man lied, but Jimmy knew in his gut that he did. Over the years he been on the force he’d developed a sixth sense about things like this. Paul was definitely hiding something. He was not being completely honest.
Jimmy picked up the drawing and looked more closely at it. It looked like Paul. It did not look like the photo of Mason that he remembered seeing. The sketch and the insincerity that Paul was exhibiting raised his suspicion, caused him to blindly grasp around, attempting to make connections where there had been none. He wondered what he really knew about Paul. Could he --? No. He pushed the thought from his mind. It was absolutely ridiculous. Paul was a cop and a darn good detective. Why, Jimmy himself had been the one to recommend that the young man become a detective. Jimmy remembered checking out Paul’s background personally and had found it squeaky clean. No, Paul was one of those detectives that had the ability to put himself into a killer’s shoes. He understood them, and that was why he caught them. If he believed Mason had been the perp, then Jimmy believed it, too. The answer was simple. The girl just didn’t remember what her assailant looked like.
Chapter 27
“Is that all you’ve got? You come barging in here, telling me to drop what I’m doing and all you have is a sperm count that’s too high? The old man could have been a medical wonder. He sure as hell was my idol, even before this. Any man that could run around with two or three women, with the current wife at home, and all while in his eighties, well – they should put up a monument to him.”
Jimmy’s face dropped. Avis Clough was right. This wasn’t the smoking gun he’d wanted. He must be slipping to have thought it was.
“Oh, I agree,” the attorney continued. “It’s suspicious, but that’s all it is. Just suspicious. You’ll have to bring me more than that if we’re going to get anyplace.”
Jimmy pursed his lips as a thought entered his head.
“Do you think any of Wurtsmith’s other children would agree to DNA testing? Something we could compare to Ervine’s boy?”
“I doubt it. Why should they? From what I remember from the trial, none of them were even minusculely sympathetic. He was just one more kid to divide the booty with. That avenue of investigation won’t get anyplace. Believe me, it’s a dead end. Have you got anything else? Or are we done? It’s a shame if all we’ve got is the will, because it could take years to get it straight.”
“I’ve got one more thing to try.”
Avis looked at him expectantly.
Jimmy grinned. “You don’t want to know,” he said. “It’s probably better if you don’t.”
Avis didn’t say anything, wisely deciding to keep his mouth shut. If he knew of anything shady, even remotely illegal, it was his duty to report it. The bar frowned upon lawyers who sullied their reputations.
“Just leave it to me,” Jimmy added. “This is as good as done.”
***
An hour later, Jimmy was again waiting in front of Patricia Lorenzo’s apartment as her gray compact pulled into its space. He jumped out quickly and ran over to the car, arriving as she opened the back door to retrieve more grocery bags.
“Mrs. Lorenzo? Could I help?”
The woman jumped, startled. When she saw who it was, she looked around in a panic for anyone that would help. To her dismay, they were alone in the parking lot.
Jimmy hadn’t meant to scare her, but decided to use it to his advantage.
“My face isn’t that bad, is it? I mean; you’re obviously frightened.” By mentioning his bruised face, he was letting her know that he considered her responsible. And that it could be an expensive proposition.
Patricia looked at him, a different kind of fear on her face now. She was guilty as charged; it was her cat. She could be sued, not that there would be anything to get from such a course. But this PI man did have a case.
“May I help you?” he asked again, motioning to the bags. “We need to talk. Something has come up and I want to be sure you’re aware of it.”
Patricia sighed, grabbed two bags, and thrust them at him. Jimmy noted that they were the heaviest, containing milk and canned goods. He thought that a good sign. At least she was taking advantage of one thing that she had power over. And that was to use a man’s strength. If she didn’t have control over anything else in her life, and it appeared she didn’t,
at least she took the opportunity to save her back.
Upstairs in the apartment, Jimmy looked around for ‘Teeny’, the cat. Again the animal was hiding. But Jimmy knew his tricks now and had no intentions of being caught off guard by the ferocious feline again.
“Mrs. Lorenzo, I’m sorry about your husband,” Jimmy said softly. “When I was here yesterday I was unaware that he’d passed.”
Patricia turned her face away, not willing for him to see her eyes well up with tears. She had pride, and a lot of pain. There was nothing else left to her.
“It must have been very difficult,” he said sympathetically, trying to convey that he understood.
“Yes, it was.” Patricia didn’t elaborate. She plainly did not want to talk about it.
Jimmy felt a twinge of conscience, but if he was going to lead this interview the way it needed to go, he had to push. Even if it brought the woman pain.
“Was he sick a long time?”
Patricia nodded, “Yes. Seven years.”
“The hospital and doctor bills were very expensive, weren’t they?”
“Si, and the prescriptions; they were very mucho money.” In her stress, Patricia had reverted to a mixture of English and Spanish remembered from her youth. As an adult, she had carefully cultivated correct grammar and it embarrassed her that she had slid back so easily in front of this man. His sympathy seemed so real; it brought back the pain she suffered those many years. Those many exhausting, tragic years.
“I bet they were. But, you do what you have to do.”
Patricia composed herself, before saying, “Yes, I did.”
She looked Jimmy in the eye and held her head up a notch higher. She had done what she had to do. Right or wrong. And she didn’t care that the truth was out there for all to see. She would do it again if she had to.
Jimmy looked at the defiant woman. He had suspected what she had done and as soon as he’d read about her husband being ill, it erased all doubt he might have had. It took a lot of money to pay for cancer treatments. Especially if there was no insurance. The money she’d gotten to keep her mouth shut about the will wouldn’t have lasted long; that was apparent by the cheap apartment and the lousy side of town she currently lived in. He was sympathetic, she’d had it rough, but that didn’t stop him from having a job to do. Patricia’s actions might have been right for her, but they were wrong for another woman and her son. And the law was on the other woman’s side.