Dirty Devil Page 12

  “What’s so funny?” Jack finally asked.

  José wiped his eyes. “She didn’t try to have me fired because I was watching her by the pool like she said. She tried to have me fired and made up that stupid story because of what I saw her doing with the guy who comes to clean the pool. She thought they were hidden, but I had a view from up here. She was scared to death I was going to tell Mr. Donnelly.”

  “You didn’t?” Jack asked.

  “No, I was holding on to the information in case I needed it later. I’ve got photographs too.”

  “Blackmail,” I said.

  “No,” he said. “Just the potential for it. There’s a difference.”

  “What’s the pool guy’s name?” Jack asked.

  “Mark,” he said. “I’m not sure of his last name. I can give you the pool company information and you can find out from them.”

  “I’d appreciate it,” Jack said. “Do you know who’s supposed to attend the will reading tomorrow?”

  “Me, of course,” he said. “And Ms. Kloss. His children will all be here, and his ex-wives. It’s not a large gathering. He didn’t have many who were close to him. The attorney told me to expect twelve.”

  “Tell me about the package he received in the mail last week,” Jack said. “Ms. Kloss mentioned it to us.”

  José rolled his eyes and took a long swallow of his doctored coffee. “Yes, it was unfortunate she was here when it was delivered. She passed out cold right in the entryway. Everyone just left her there.” He smiled again.

  “What was in the package?” I asked.

  “A dead cat,” he said. “I didn’t recognize it as belonging to any of the neighbors.”

  “Roadkill?” Jack asked.

  José shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. It had been decapitated. It didn’t look like something that had been run over.”

  “Mr. Donnelly opened it?” I asked.

  “Sure,” José said. “He was home early that afternoon because he and Ms. Kloss had a formal event to attend that night. The package was sitting on the foyer table when he got home, so he opened it.”

  “Who delivered it?” Jack asked.

  “How should I know?”

  I could feel Jack’s frustration. “Did someone come to the door with the package? The postman? UPS? FedEx?”

  José stopped and thought for a minute. “I don’t know. The housekeeper brought it in and set it on the foyer table with the rest of the mail. It was just a regular brown box. Nothing special. It had his name on the label. There are packages delivered here all the time, so it was nothing new.”

  “No notes or anything like that?” I asked.

  “No, just the cat,” José said. “I wanted to call the police, but Mr. Donnelly said there was no point. He said the police wouldn’t do anything about it because they hated him so much.”

  “We would’ve done something,” Jack said.

  José just stared down his long nose at Jack, his lips pursed disapprovingly. “I’m sure.”

  “What’d you do with the box?” I asked.

  “I disposed of the animal and put the box in the closet with other letters or packages we’ve received over the years.”

  I felt a sliver of excitement. Maybe finding the killer would be just that easy.

  “We’ll need to take all of it into evidence,” Jack said.

  “I’m afraid you’ll need to speak with Mr. Donnelly’s attorney before you remove anything from the house.

  “It’s evidence in a homicide investigation,” Jack said, his tone steely. “I don’t have to ask anyone before I take it. But I’ll leave you a receipt. You said earlier Mr. Donnelly’s attorney was Mr. Fischer. Is that Kevin Fischer? His former partner?”

  José’s eyes went black with annoyance. “Of course.”

  “We were under the impression there’d been a falling-out between the two,” Jack said.

  “Those things happen between friends sometimes. But Mr. Donnelly wasn’t a fool. He’d want the best attorney to represent him and his holdings, and that would be Mr. Fischer. It’s business.”

  “Right,” Jack said. “Where were you Wednesday night?”

  “Excuse me?” José asked, looking confused.

  “Wednesday night. The night of the storm. Where were you?”

  “I was here, of course,” José said. “Where else would I be during a tornado warning?”

  “Can anyone corroborate that?” Jack asked.

  “Ms. Kloss,” he said, and then his eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I like the implication you’re making.”

  “I’m not making any implications,” Jack said. “I’m just making sure we gather all the facts and all the evidence so we can find who killed Mr. Donnelly. Ms. Kloss told us she took an Ambien and slept through the entire storm. Was anyone else here that night?”

  “No,” José said between clenched teeth. “It was just the two of us. The power went out for a short while, around ten o’clock, and I tried Mr. Donnelly’s cell, but no one answered. I figured service was bad because of the storm. I stayed up until about midnight, but I didn’t hear from him, so I went to bed. I thought he might have decided to stay over with Ms. Burkett again.”

  “Just one more question before we go,” Jack said, coming to his feet. “Have you ever heard of a woman named Isabelle Rhodes?”

  It was there in his eyes. Just a flash of recognition before he masked it. “No, I’ve never heard of her.”

  “Thanks for your time,” Jack said. “We’ll get the evidence now and be on our way.”

  “He was lying,” I said when we got in the car. “Who is Isabelle Rhodes?”

  “The woman Donnelly got pregnant and paid off to disappear. It was ten years ago. I figure José would’ve known about the situation.”

  “Yet he still lied,” I said. “Why?”

  “No idea,” Jack said. “But I don’t trust him. He said it himself, everyone who’s in Donnelly’s life has something they want from him. What is it that José wanted?”

  “I don’t know, could be that sweet bachelor pad he’s living in,” I said. “I don’t think he likes you, by the way.”

  “That seems to be going around lately,” Jack said. “It is election season after all.”

  He used his cell to call Carver, and when Carver answered he said, “Can you run financials on José Sosa? He’s Donnelly’s house manager.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Maybe I should get Michelle a house manager for Christmas. That seems like something she could use.”

  “That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard you say,” I told him.

  “Really?” he asked. “Because I’ve had a lot of good ideas.”

  “I also need a home address for Kevin Fischer,” Jack broke in. “He’s Donnelly’s attorney, but when I do a DMV search only his office address comes up.”

  “Ah, a man who values his privacy,” Carver said. “Hope you guys didn’t want pizza, by the way. It didn’t last long.”

  “We’ll pick up takeout on the way home,” Jack said.

  “Don’t let Doug hear you say that,” Carver said. “Here we go. Kevin Fischer. I’m going to assume the address at 227 E Street is his office. Interesting. He’s got somebody pulling a favor for him at the FBI. They’ve got his home address behind a firewall. Good thing for you Fischer’s inside guy isn’t as high up in the food chain as I am.”

  “Is there anyone higher in the food chain than you?” I asked.

  “I let the director think he is,” Carver said. “It makes him feel good about himself.” It didn’t take Carver fifteen seconds of typing something rapidly into the computer before he was spilling out the address.

  “He’s in High Pointe. 1233 Crescent Street.”

  “You’re the best,” Jack said and hung up.

  “Let’s say the four murders Carver told us about earlier were done by the same killer,” I said. “That’s a six-year span. That eliminates Kimmie. She would’ve been in middle school. I could see José h
aving the patience to wait things out. But I can’t see him killing the golden goose, to use his words. Donnelly’s death leaves his future up in the air.”

  “Unless it doesn’t,” Jack said. “Unless José knew there was something more permanent for him after Donnelly died.”

  “I find it rather convenient that most of the suspects live in this neighborhood,” I said.

  “Lifestyles of the rich and famous,” Jack said. “Everyone could potentially be a murderer.”

  “They should do a reality show on that,” I said. “I’d watch it.”

  “You’d probably be the only one.”

  “We should’ve brought the campaign signs with us and stuck them in their front yards,” I said.

  Jack snorted out a laugh. “I’m not worried. My mother belongs to this club. She plays bridge every Thursday, and she donates a lot of money to a lot of causes, and sits through a lot of boring charity dinners. We also belong to this club, just so you know.

  “Really? And why don’t we ever come here?”

  “Because you hate sitting through boring charity dinners as much as I do. I’d much rather write a check and skip the dinner.”

  “Amen,” I said.

  “Everyone in this neighborhood will vote for me. The Lawson name goes a long way in this county. Don’t forget that.”

  It reminded me of what Floyd had told me at the grocery store. That I was hiding behind Jack’s good name, and all that meant was that people made sure to talk about me behind my back.

  “What charities do we donate to?” I asked.

  “Do you ever read the monthly spreadsheet I send you?” he asked.

  “Of course not,” I said. “As long as the bills are paid that’s where my interest in spreadsheets and money stops.”

  “Pity,” he said. “The sale of your house and the added profit from the funeral home are making a nice little profit from the investments our broker has made.”

  “I’ve got investments?” I asked skeptically. I’d never even had a 401k before, much less investments.

  “You should read the spreadsheet,” he said, pulling in front of a large Spanish-style house on the other side of the lake. “It’s color coded and everything.”

  The house was at the end of the street and took up the entire cul-de-sac.

  “I don’t want to read the spreadsheet,” I said. “Spreadsheets make my eyes bleed. I’ll just have to trust you.”

  “I could be investing your money in a llama farm for all you know.”

  “I like llamas,” I said. “They’re all the rage.”

  “I’m not sure how I lost control of this conversation,” Jack said.

  “I don’t think you ever had control of the conversation.”

  “Huh,” Jack said and we got out of the truck.

  We weren’t kept waiting long after ringing the bell. A woman opened the door. Plain and petite, her slacks, white shirt, and apron were crisply pressed. Her already pale face blanched at the sight of Jack’s badge and the request to see Kevin Fischer.

  She glanced over her shoulder once, as if she were looking for someone to ask what she should do, and then she finally gave in and ushered us into the foyer. I liked Kevin Fischer’s taste in décor much more than John Donnelly’s. The walls were stucco and a warm beige, and the floors were tile. There were colorful rugs and greenery scattered around, and the house was built around a center courtyard with white columns, beautiful flowers, and a fountain.

  The woman looked at us again, and then hurriedly walked off, leaving us standing in the foyer, without uttering a word to us.

  “Everyone is so hospitable in this neighborhood,” I said. “We should move here.”

  Jack was smiling when a tall man dressed for golf came striding toward us. His expression looked formidable until he saw Jack and then he smiled.

  “Sheriff Lawson,” he said, extending a hand. It was a politician’s smile he gave Jack, and I knew Kevin Fischer was very aware of the influence Jack had, how much he was worth, and he was already thinking how Jack might be of use to him in the future.

  “My wife plays golf with your mother,” he said. “We keep trying to convince her to move out here, but she won’t budge from where she is.”

  “Ah, well, it’s family land. Lawsons have been there for more than a century. Tradition is important to my mother.”

  “Of course,” he said. “I assume you’re here because of John Donnelly. May I ask how you got my home address?”

  “We were just over talking to José,” Jack said, leaving the implication open that José had been the one to let his home address slip instead of outright lying.

  “Of course,” he said. “Let’s go into my office. It’s more comfortable in there.”

  We followed him to a large room at the front of the house that was surprisingly light and airy. There was a large desk that dominated the room, but the furniture was cozy and there was a fireplace against one wall with Spanish hand-painted tiles.

  “I didn’t get the chance to introduce you to my wife,” Jack said, making me raise my brows. He never introduced me as his wife when we were on official business. “Dr. J.J. Graves.”

  Kevin took my hand, and I tried not to grimace as he squeezed. He had one of those bone-crushing handshakes men use as a power play.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, extracting my hand and resisting the urge to rub it.

  “I got to know your grandmother before she passed,” he said. “I was a young attorney then, but she had me draw up the paperwork for her estate and the funeral home. It was excellent timing on her part too, because she died not long after that, and she wasn’t an old woman.”

  I didn’t remember much of my grandmother. She’d only been in her fifties when she’d fallen out of a third-floor window at the funeral home. No one had known if it had been suicide or if she’d had help going over the ledge.

  Kevin took a seat behind his desk, and pointed to the two armchairs across from him. “Please, sit. I’m sure you know I’m John’s attorney of record. There’s not too much I can share with you. Attorney-client privilege.”

  Jack smiled. “We both know attorney-client privilege doesn’t count in a homicide investigation. But I understand the need to keep Mr. Donnelly’s more colorful history private. I only need to know whatever will help us find his killer. Tell me about the will reading tomorrow. Are you expecting fireworks?”

  Kevin steepled his hands together and chuckled. “Let me put it this way. I’m bringing one of my private security team from the office. You and Dr. Graves are, of course, welcome to join us.”

  “I appreciate that,” Jack said. “We’ll take you up on it. Who’s going to cause you the most trouble?”

  “Everyone?” he said. “With the exception of Martha Callum.”

  “His secretary?” I asked.

  “He left his entire fortune to her. His house, all his belongings, cars, cash…you name it. It’s hers. He said she’s put up with him for twenty-one years and she knew what he wanted better than any woman he’d ever slept with. He said his children already have trust funds, so they don’t need anything more from him. His ex-wives got all they’re going to get in the divorce. And Kimmie can take her personal belongings and any gifts he gave her during the course of the relationship, and her name is on the title of the car and also the lease of an apartment in Manhattan. But she’s out of luck on striking gold like she was hoping.”

  “What about José?” I asked.

  “José was left instructions in the will to help Martha get the house and contents in order. His wages will be paid up until the time she decides she no longer needs him. Or she can keep him on if she so chooses.”

  “José told us you told him to prepare for twelve, but by my count that’s ten, including you. Who else?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Isabelle Rhodes?” Jack asked.

  Kevin’s brows shot up and he sat forward. “You have been busy. That’s not a name that’s easy to
come by.”

  “It is when you know where to look. It’s impossible to hide anything when money is involved.”

  Kevin relaxed and blew out a sigh. “Yes, Isabelle Rhodes and her nine-year-old son will be there as well.”

  “But you just said Donnelly was leaving the entirety of his estate to his secretary,” I said. “What’s the point of them being there?”

  “John enjoyed drama. In and out of the courtroom. I believe it was his wish for his children to know they have a little brother. But he certainly could have gone about it in a more circumspect way.”

  “Why isn’t Julie Burkett attending?” Jack asked. “From everything we’ve learned, John was closer to her than anyone.”

  “Ah, Julie,” Kevin said, his look thoughtful. “She never conformed. I think that’s what kept John coming back for more. She didn’t tolerate his behavior. She pushed back. And she never depended on him for anything. And he was used to people using him—either for his money or what he could do for them. He was different around her. It was really quite remarkable. But she’s a smart woman, and she knew becoming attached to John wouldn’t have been good for her.

  “Julie was his first choice as far as to whom he should leave his fortune, but she told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted no part of his blood money. That’s what she called it. She said too many people had suffered by his hand, and if she had his money she’d give it back to every one of the victims who never got justice because of him. Well, John didn’t like hearing that, so he moved on to his second choice. Which was Martha. Julie had no desire to be a pawn in one of his games. And that’s exactly what tomorrow is. It’s a show. And I’m sorry to say, a cruel one for the most part.”

  “I can see why you’re bringing the security,” Jack said. “If you don’t mind me asking, we were told you and Donnelly were partners at one time but had a falling-out. It seems odd he’d keep you as his personal attorney.”

  Kevin grinned. “It does, doesn’t it? The truth is—and I’m sure everyone you’ve already talked to has told you this—but John Donnelly wasn’t an easy man to get along with. We’ve been friends close to thirty years. My wife and I are his children’s godparents. And for a time, we were partners. But let’s just say it was a lot easier to be his friend than it was his partner, and I think he felt the same way. It was easy enough to go our separate ways, and if I can brag a little, he kept me as his personal attorney because I’m damned good at what I do. If John was my only client, he would’ve kept me more than busy enough to maintain the lifestyle I’m accustomed to.”