“M.E. says he has no problem with that timing and thinks closer to six,” Goddard said. “Hackett was to meet Towson to take him to a banquet for a campaign speech. Towson didn’t answer the buzz. Hackett phoned, no response. The maintenance man let him in. Hackett called out, walked around, and saw the body in the bedroom.”
“Did you check out Hackett?” Moran asked.
“He’s in the clear, I believe. He was in Tallahassee overnight Friday,” Goddard said, “and headed back around noon. We checked his phone. He called Towson three times from the Turnpike. Last attempt was around five. He got no answer the last time so was concerned and drove straight to Towson’s. The rest agrees with what the maintenance guy told us.”
“We sent the rug and Reid’s clothing to the lab. We’re waiting for the follow-up report from CSI,” the chief said. “We’re interviewing every occupant of the building.”
“I talked to Tammy,” Goddard said. “According to her, she met Reid at the restaurant around twelve-thirty. Reid left after thirty minutes saying he was going to find Loraine. Tammy went back to her office. So Reid’s whereabouts are unknown from one o’clock until I picked him up at six-thirty.”
“I like Reid for this, but an immediate concern here is Barner,” Moran said. “Get more men on that angle, Chief. If he’s alive, then find him. If he’s dead, find his body. There may be a larger plot. What do you think, Goddard?”
“Barner could be the murderer and he ran. First, he just happens to service the Towson’s apartment a couple of hours before the shooting. And then—he’s missing. Or, maybe he got in somebody’s way and his body is now sprawled out in his house. I’d like to search it.”
“Great idea, but you can’t,” Moran said. “We’d never get a court order to go in there, not this early. And if he’s involved in the murder, we can’t risk any findings being tossed out by the judge.” He turned to Goddard smiling. “Yes, too bad you can’t search his house.”
“If that’s all, I need to get back on the street.” Goddard left knowing exactly where he needed to go next. He looked up Sonny Barner’s address.
Barner’s small house was on a corner lot visible from two sides, exposing any vehicle parked on the street. Goddard drove up a dirt driveway at the rear and parked unnoticed in the ragged carport. At the rear door, he found an undemanding key-in-knob lock. He slid a plastic card along the jam, and the bolt moved enough to open the door.
All he needed was a minute inside. No detailed search, just a quick check, for a dead body or signs of a struggle, and Goddard would be out of there. He walked through the kitchen and dining area to the sparsely- furnished living room at the front. The place was standard bachelor-mess. Two old pump shotguns were resting in the corner of a hall closet. He held them up and smelled them. He didn’t know why, habit he guessed. The murder weapon was a .38 revolver, not a shotgun. Neither had been fired recently. Another door off the hall opened to a small bedroom jammed with boxes, tools, hoses, and containers smelling of chemicals.
He found something interesting in the other bedroom. On the computer desk was a large framed photograph of a naked woman. Beautiful with full breasts, sitting upright and posed looking into the camera, with her hands resting on her spread knees. Looped over one corner of the picture frame like a souvenir, was a real blue bra. Matching panties were hooked on the other side. They didn’t look new.
Goddard started to walk away when he realized something about the photo. He leaned closer. He recognized the woman, at least he recognized her face. It was Tammy Jerrold.
He studied the photo for signs of a paste-up, but it was seamless. Indeed, it seemed to be Tammy posed there. Probably digitized software was used to put her head on someone’s body.
Goddard’s only concern was Barner possibly lying dead in the place. On his way out through the kitchen, he paused at the refrigerator; covered with cards, notes and an interesting newspaper clipping. The old clipping from the society page showed Senator Towson in his tuxedo standing with a group of people and Tammy Jerrold at his side. The image of Towson was crossed out with a red felt-tip. Interesting, but there was no dead body in that house.
Driving back downtown, he was waiting at a traffic light when a lipstick-red Miata dashed across the intersection directly in front of him. He had noticed the little convertible with the top down and bearing Pennsylvania plates earlier that day and had followed it for a while, watching the driver’s short brown hair scattering about in the wind. He knew who was driving. He turned and followed.
Sandy Reid pulled into a space in front of the real estate office. The dark grey Impala she had noticed following her pulled across behind her, blocking her. Easy to spot a cop even in an unmarked car, she thought, they always sit up so straight.
She watched him walk up to the side of her convertible, and open his jacket slightly to show the badge clipped on his belt. Hot looking cop, she decided. Get him a decent sports jacket and he could model for GQ. She looked up at him. “You don’t want to look in my trunk, do you?” He didn’t look amused.
“License, and please remove your sunglasses, Miss.”
“Of course, is it sergeant or lieutenant?” She reset her sunglasses on top of her hair, reached for her purse, and found her license. “Can I get out of my car, please?”
She didn’t mind him throwing glances down her blouse, but he was over six feet, and she wanted to deny him the psychological advantage of standing above her. Besides, her denim skirt had ridden up and a flash of legs about now might be useful; there’s more than one way to swing your legs out of a car. Let him pretend not to notice.
Goddard stepped back to let her out. He looked at her license and then at her: twenty-six, brown hair, hazel eyes, five foot nine, 120 pounds.
Behind the sunglasses, his eyes were unreadable, but with the slight movement of his head, she could guess where he was looking. He was taking his time. He’s hetero, that’s a plus. “Everything in its proper place? Do you want me to turn around a couple of times?”
“Sorry, was I staring?”
“I imagine you’re just trying to estimate my weight to compare it to my license. Cops can’t be too careful these days.” She noticed him looking down at her left hand. “I’m his sister. Not his wife. Not his mother.” She took a slight step toward him, checking him out a little. She had a thing about smells. Up close, this guy smelled gorgeous. Love to see his eyes.
“Welcome to Florida, Miss Reid,” he said routinely. “What’s your business in Park?”
“You can check my ID but really that’s it. My business isn’t your business. Before we go any further, I’d like for you to identify yourself.”
“Detective Sergeant Goddard. You can stop the performance. I checked with Pennsylvania and you’re not a lawyer.
“I’m not performing—impudence comes naturally to me. And I never said I was a lawyer. I signed your logbook as Sandra Reid and asked to visit Raymond Reid. I know you detectives watch for clues like that.”
“You requested special treatment in the visitor room, you were at the InnTowner earlier asking questions, running around since, and right now you’re outside Tammy Jerrold’s office. Obviously, you’re trying to worm your way into a murder investigation. I’m not going to allow it. I don’t want anyone, even an attractive woman, messing around in police business. You think you’ve some special status in this?”
“Yes, very special, I’m a citizen. Check that with Pennsylvania.”
The detective wasn’t used to challenges. “You’re pretty savvy with all this. I’m curious, would it violate your civil rights if I asked what you do up there.”
“As a matter of fact, it would. But, I’m going to answer the question since we’ve taken such a liking to each other. I do grunt work for a firm of criminal attorneys. With white-collar crime, I find dirty little secrets hidden in records and reports. With blue-collar cases, I locate witnesses and talk with cops when possible. We’re usually on different sides, but sometimes it’s to our mutual advantage to trade info. Did I mention I’m very good at this stuff?” She gave him a grin. “You need any help these days?”
“You may have been the darling of the police force up there, but you’ve absolutely no authority here and you can’t scurry around questioning people. If you do there will be a problem.”
Her face colored with anger. “I don’t like your insinuation. My relations with the Philly police are strictly professional. I don’t drink with cops, don’t date them, and don’t hang in cop bars,” she said it sharply. “You must be thinking of one of your local badge bunnies.”
“Hey, slow down woman. I didn’t mean anything….” He took a deep breath and removed his sunglasses. “…
