“Did she mention that her cell phone had gone missing?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time she’s lost a cell phone,” Beatrice answered, “and if she did lose it, it’s completely in character for her not to mention it to me. My husband died of Alzheimer’s. When we misplace something like car keys or a purse, or if we can’t remember something, believe me, we take it seriously.”
“Would it surprise you if I told you that your daughter’s cell phone turned up at the crime scene?”
“Just because her phone was there doesn’t mean Lynn was there,” Beatrice insisted.
“We checked your daughter’s credit transactions,” Dave said. “Did she often stop off to have her car washed coming and going from Dr. Ralston’s place?”
“She loves that car. She handles it with kid gloves, and she has it washed about as often as she fills it with gas. I understand there’s a combination car wash/service station just off the 101. I’m pretty sure that’s where she takes it.”
“But she didn’t mention having her car washed yesterday morning?”
“No. She wouldn’t. How she looks after her car is none of my business.”
“Has she said anything to you in the past about Gemma Ralston?”
“She’s mentioned the woman now and then. She thought Gemma treated Chip badly, and she certainly disapproved of the idea that Gemma was chummy with Chip’s family. I mean, you don’t see me hanging out with Lynn’s ex-husband, do you?”
“What do you mean when you say Gemma treated him badly?”
“How else? Financially, of course,” Beatrice responded. “According to Lynn, when Gemma decided to get a divorce, her lawyers were utterly ruthless. They took everything that wasn’t nailed down. Lynn told me things were going to be tough financially for the next several years. Chip managed to avoid bankruptcy, but only barely.”
“Dr. Ralston resented that?” Dave asked.
“I should think so,” Beatrice replied. “Wouldn’t you?”
Ali knew Beatrice had hit Dave where he lived, because he’d gone through a similar financial knothole at the time of his divorce. He immediately changed the subject. “Does the name James Mason Sanders ring a bell?”
“No.”
“Are you aware that a second homicide victim was found in the same general location as Gemma Ralston?”
Beatrice nodded. “They said on the news that the second victim was an unidentified male.”
Dave glanced in B.’s direction before answering, as though trying to decide how much he should say about the case with an interested bystander in the room. Ali understood Dave’s concern, but she also knew that B. had enough security clearances to put Dave’s to shame.
“One of the crime scene techs went up the road to have a smoke and found what he thought was an abandoned vehicle. Inside, he found the body of a man shot at close range through the driver’s-side window. The second victim has been identified,” the detective added. “That’s the name I just gave you-James Mason Sanders. He was an ex-con who served time for counterfeiting years ago and dropped out of sight after completing his parole. Even though Mason’s death preceded Gemma Ralston’s by some period of time-twelve to fourteen hours, at least-due to his proximity to the Ralston crime scene, we’re operating on the assumption that the two cases are related.”
“He’s not the one the newscaster called a person of interest-the one who called 911?” Beatrice asked.
“No,” Dave said. “That call was made a matter of minutes before Ms. Ralston succumbed to her injuries. Mason died hours earlier than that, so he couldn’t have made the call.”
Beatrice thought before shaking her head. “I’m quite sure I’ve never heard that name. Do you think he was supposed to be a hit man or something?”
“That’s one possibility we’re pursuing.”
Beatrice shook her head. “Lynn never mentioned knowing anyone like that. Maybe this Sanders guy was a friend of Chip’s. Please, Detective Holman, I’ve answered all your questions, but you have yet to tell me where my daughter is being held or what’s going to happen to her.”
“She’s in the Yavapai County Jail in Prescott.”
“Can I see her? Will she be released on bond?”
“As I said earlier, she has yet to be officially charged,” Dave answered. “If she ends up charged with homicide, there’s not much possibility of her being released on bail. Nonetheless, I’d suggest you go see her as soon as possible. You might be able to convince her that her best bet will be to take the plea deal.”
“What plea deal?” Beatrice asked.
Dave’s eyes flicked briefly in Ali’s direction before he answered. “The county attorney has made an offer to both your daughter’s attorney and Dr. Ralston’s. Whichever one agrees to testify against the other will walk away with a manslaughter conviction rather than standing trial on first-degree murder.”
“My daughter has an attorney?”
“A court-appointed public defender,” Dave replied. “Her name is Paula Urban, and she’s fully aware of the situation. She also understands that the deal is only good for twenty-four hours. So if you have any influence with your daughter, I suggest you use it.”
Beatrice stood up abruptly and collected her purse. “I most certainly will,” she said. “I’ll go see her immediately. I’ll also use every bit of influence I have to convince my daughter to fight this tooth and nail. If Chip Ralston killed his ex-wife, I’m not going to stand still and let you lay that crime at Lynn’s door. She would never do such a thing!”
With that, Beatrice stomped out of the house. Ali followed her. “Have you ever been to Prescott?” she asked.
“No, but I’m sure I can figure out how to get there. All I have to do is go back to Cordes Junction and turn right.”
“If you take Exit 278 and turn right on Highway 169, you take several miles off the Cordes Junction route.”
“Thanks,” Beatrice said. “For the directions, the food, everything.”
Ali reached into the cover of her iPhone and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my name and number,” she said. “Call me if you think I can be of any help.”
“Thank you for that, too,” Beatrice said. “I may just do that.”
Back in the house, Ali discovered that B. and Dave had moseyed into the kitchen, where B. was ladling the last of the evening’s stew into a bowl.
“For Dave,” B. explained. “He missed dinner at home.”
“Thanks for the help,” Dave said, settling onto one of the kitchen chairs.
“It doesn’t sound as though Beatrice is convinced her daughter had anything to do with what happened,” Ali said.
Dave nodded. “Mothers are always the last ones to realize their little darlings have gone off the reservation.”
“Lynn didn’t strike me as the murderous type, either,” Ali said.
“You’ve met her?”
Ali nodded. “Once. Last summer. We were at the same television station to tape a segment for a program based on Brenda’s book. I told you about that.”
“I don’t know about types,” Dave said grimly. “What I know is that when the CSI people sprayed her trunk and back bumper with BlueStar, they lit up like Christmas trees. And we found Lynn’s supposedly missing phone at the crime scene. But all of that is strictly circumstantial. In all honesty, I think Cap Horning is jumping the gun here. I’m not sure what he’s thinking. I’ve heard rumors that he may be gearing up to run for the state attorney general slot. If that’s the case, a confession from Martinson or Ralston will sew this one up in a hurry and make his life so much simpler.”
“So the plea deal is a way for Horning to keep from having to work so hard?” Ali asked.
Dave nodded, but Ali could tell he wasn’t happy about it. “That’s about the size of it. My take is that Horning is smart but lazy. He wants to get the job done with the least amount of effort.”
“What about the 911 caller?” Ali asked.
“There’s always a chance that the perp had a change of heart and came back in hopes of changing the outcome,” Dave said. “Wouldn’t be the first time that happened.”
