Placing a steaming bowl of stew on the table in front of Dave, B. sat down across from the detective as he dug in. “What’s the ex-con’s connection to all this?” B. asked.
“Remains to be seen,” Dave said. “Once James Sanders finished his parole, he went off the grid. The car he was found in was licensed in Nevada. He bought it last week off Craigslist; paid cash. Not cash, actually. The guy who sold it said the victim paid for the car with two thousand-dollar gambling tokens from the MGM Grand, and once he drove off in it, he didn’t bother changing the registration. No ID or driver’s license was found on the body, and we’re unable to locate a current driver’s license for Sanders there or anywhere else. No credit cards, although he does have a checking account. We found a blank check in his wallet.”
“You’re thinking Sanders may have been involved in some kind of criminal enterprise,” B. suggested.
Dave nodded. “Something that’s long on cash and short on credit cards. And it must have been working for him right up until someone blew out his brains at close range.”
“So he was shot,” Ali surmised. “What about Gemma Ralston?”
“Stabbed,” Dave said, “but with no defensive wounds on her body and with nothing under her nails. There were no signs that she was restrained in any way. The ME is running a tox screen, which will take time, but he’s operating under the theory that Gemma was incapacitated in some way before she was stabbed.”
“Is it possible these are two entirely unrelated incidents?” Ali asked.
“Possible,” Dave agreed. “Just not very likely.”
He bolted his stew and took off for home while Ali and B. finished putting Leland’s kitchen back to rights.
“If Leland was counting on serving stew for lunch tomorrow,” B. said, “he’s in for a surprise. Now, about that partner bonus? Jet lag just hit big-time.”
10
Lynn Martinson lay in her jail cell with her head on her arm and tried to imagine how any of this could have happened to her. Her attorney, who was nice enough but very young, had outlined the terms of the county attorney’s offer. All Lynn had to do was finger Chip for Gemma’s murder, and Lynn herself would probably skate.
There was only one problem. Lynn couldn’t bring herself to believe that any of it was true. She couldn’t believe that a man who had dedicated his life to doing no harm would have taken anyone’s life, including Gemma’s. Yes, the woman had been a pain in the ass. Yes, paying her alimony and buying out her share of the medical practice and their joint real estate holdings was putting a crimp in Chip’s bottom line. He had lost a bundle in real estate, and he’d turned over a big part of his pension, but Lynn refused to believe that money meant so much to him. After all, hadn’t that been one of Gemma’s major gripes about him? That he had backed away from the big- bucks medical practices in favor of shepherding the families of Alzheimer’s patients? Was that the kind of man who would stoop to murder? Lynn didn’t want to believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. It just wasn’t possible. Couldn’t be. Could it?
Lynn had been on her way home from Chip’s place early that morning when an unmarked patrol car had pulled her over on Shea Boulevard as she made her way toward the 101. Since she hadn’t been speeding, she almost didn’t stop. What if this was one of those times when the guy pulling her over turned out to be a bad guy masquerading as a cop?
“What seems to be the problem, Officer?” she had asked through the open window when she pulled over and Detective Holman walked up to the driver’s window. “Was I doing something wrong?”
“Would you please step out of the vehicle, Ms. Martinson? I need to ask you a few questions.”
It surprised her that he already knew her name, even though he hadn’t asked to see her license or registration. It struck Lynn as odd, but she complied with her hands shaking and knees quaking. The badge and ID he showed her turned out to be from Yavapai County rather than one of the local jurisdictions.
“Where were you night before last?” he asked as she handed him back his ID.
“I was at my boyfriend’s house,” she said. “I spent the night.”
“Your boyfriend would be Dr. Charles Ralston, right?”
“Yes,” Lynn said hurriedly, “but what’s this about? Does it have anything to do with my telephone?”
“What about your telephone?”
“I know my cell turned up at the scene of a homicide, but like I told the officer who came by the house yesterday, I evidently misplaced it sometime earlier. I have no idea how it could have made its way to a crime scene near Camp Verde. I’ve never even been there.”
“Never?” he asked.
The way he looked at her when he said that was disquieting-as if he didn’t believe her. Lynn’s knees shook that much more. It was sounding much more serious than some kind of minor traffic violation. People going by on the street were rubbernecking, peering at her and trying to see what was going on. Fortunately, she was far enough from Surprise that it seemed unlikely any of the gawkers would know either her or her mother. Still it was embarrassing.
“Do we have to do this here?” she asked. “Couldn’t we have our discussion somewhere more private?”
“Sure,” Detective Holman agreed. “There’s a Denny’s just off Scottsdale Road. How about if we go there to talk? I can follow you.”
It seemed like a reasonable enough request, so that was what they did. Lynn was grateful that he turned off the flashers on his light bar. When they pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot, she was relieved to see that it was relatively full.
They went inside. Detective Holman ordered a Grand Slam. All Lynn wanted was coffee, and it was frustrating to see how much her hand shook as she raised the mug to her lips. She was nervous about talking to this guy. She couldn’t help it.
“So let’s go back to the night before last. What time did you arrive at Dr. Ralston’s place?”
“Ten or so.”
“You left there when?”
“About this time, maybe a little earlier.”
“You come late and leave early,” Holman said. “Why’s that?”
She fudged a little on that one. “I leave early so Chip can get ready for work.” The answer sounded lame, even to her.
“I understand you stopped by a car wash on your way home?”
“Why?”
That struck her as a stupid question. People went to car washes when their cars were dirty.
“When I went to get into the car in the morning, I noticed it was really dusty,” she answered. “The wind must have come up overnight. Since I needed gas, I had it washed, too. There’s a car wash on my way, and I usually stop there. I suspect that’s where I lost my phone. I probably put it down on the counter when I was paying for my gas and forgot to put it back in my purse.”
“What can you tell me about Dr. Ralston’s former wife?”
Later, Lynn understood that was when she should have guessed what was really going on. If she had, she might have moderated her answer, but she didn’t.
“Gemma Ralston is a money-grubbing bitch,” Lynn replied. “She hired the best divorce lawyer money can buy, and she took Chip to the cleaners.”
“Do you know her personally?”
“I don’t really know her; I know of her,” Lynn admitted.
“She stays in close contact with Dr. Ralston?”
“More with his mother and sister than with Chip. Chip’s mother told him that just because he and Gemma were divorced didn’t mean she was divorcing her daughter-in-law. As for Molly, Chip’s sister? I understand that she and Gemma have been good friends since they met as college roommates years ago.”
