5 Alive After Friday (10 page)

He stood. “Get out of my office!”

“Ryan, please try to understand why all this was
necessary. I’m not a disinterested stranger. I’ve a huge stake in this. I had
to get at the truth. And I’m still trying to decide if you’re complicit in any
of this.”

“Complicit in what?”

He didn’t need to know. “Some very heavy stuff.”
Although he’d poured his heart out, she wasn’t willing to tell him about the
four hundred thousand dollars, or that Boyd was dead. How could he understand? “Here’s
my card. Phone me if somehow I can help you. I do want to help you.”

“Now there are two women I want out of my life. Myra
and you. I don’t want to see either of you ever again.”

She decided it was best to say nothing more at
that point. She placed her business card on his desk, picked up one of his and
quietly left Ryan Cramer holding his head in his hands.

Once back at her car, she drove across the street
and found a space in the convenience store parking lot facing the Garden of
Eden Design building. She assumed eventually, Ryan Cramer would drive off in
one of the two green panel trucks parked near the entrance. He had said he was
going to his sister’s for dinner. She searched for Gail Holman on her tablet.
An address in Palm Beach Gardens came up. That wasn’t near the ocean, she knew
that much. She punched it into her GPS anyway. Thirty minutes later the young man
left the landscape design building and drove off in one of the panel trucks.
Ryan was still inside.

She used the time sitting there to phone Chip.
Mainly, she wanted him to know where she was staying. The FBI joint task force
was keeping him busy with twelve-hour days. He was glad she phoned and pleased
to hear her stay down in West Palm was paying off, and they had definitely
traced Boyd to West Palm.

“Yes, he was living a soap opera down here with
some guy’s wife. They didn’t even need a motel, the husband would leave when
they wanted to use the bedroom.”

“I can’t wait for the movie,” Chip said. “I really
miss you, sweetheart. I’ve an idea. If you’re still down there in a couple of
days, when I get off this drug task force and back to a normal schedule, I’m
going to come down after work and we’ll have a night together.”

“Super. Now I’ll be thinking about that all day.
Love you.”

After they hung up, she phoned Martin who had
parked for two hours in a lot across the road from Bristol Trucking. He had nothing
interesting to report so far. Almost quitting time at the trucking company and
Myra never returned.

“Okay, you can call it quits as soon as they lock
up there. I’m sitting here until Ryan leads me to Gail.” She wondered if she
had time to run in the convenience store and grab a coffee. “I might be late
getting back to the Marriott. If so, I’ll meet you there for breakfast. Just
one other thing. If you wouldn’t mind. Make one last run past Myra’s house. See
if there’s any sign of her there...oh, oh, my target just left the building. I
hope I don’t lose him in the traffic. Later, kiddo.”

A
t
six
t
he next morning, Sandy rang Martin’s
West Palm Beach hotel room. He’d already showered and was dressing. She was at
a table in the dining room when he came in. His coffee was waiting. He had
nothing interesting to report. Yesterday afternoon when the trucking company
closed up and everyone left, Myra still hadn’t returned. He drove past the
Cramer house in West Palm Beach one last time and saw no signs of life.

“How about your meeting with Ryan?” he asked.

The server came over and looked at Sandy who said,
“Scrambled eggs with whole wheat toast and OJ.”

Martin said, “I’ll have Egg Benedict, please. And
orange juice.” As the young lady moved away, he said, “I wonder what our choice
of eggs says about each of us? I’m too organized to consider scrambled
anything, and you’re too hard-boiled to eat a poached egg,” he chuckled at his
little quip. “So what did you find out from the husband?”

“It seems his wife, Myra, met Boyd when he started
working at Bristol Trucking. They became hot and heavy lovers according to the
emotional session I went through with Ryan. No surprise there. From the
suggestive comments Boyd directed at me while I was on my knees in the woods, I
pictured him young and sexually obsessed.”

“That’s redundant,” he said with a smile. “Anyway,
we know he was twenty-five and I thought Myra was older. Almost twice his age.
Unless Myra was some hot sexy number I have difficulty imagining that affair.”

“I don’t. Boyd gets the new job at Bristol and
there’s Myra being extra nice to him. She didn’t have to be any great
seductress, she just needed to send out the come-screw-me signals every young
male that age is watching for. She saw excitement. So, the neckline inched down
and the hemline inched up.”

“That explains him going for it once, not an
extended hot and heavy affair. I believe something else was going on between
them.”

“She was spending a lot of money on him, according
to her husband.”

“Well okay, you didn’t tell me that. Yes, that
would do it.”

She said, “I should have mentioned that. You’re correct,
at his age he saw her as much older. Sure, the age thing was a real killer for
a guy so young, but he was willing to overlook it. She was an easy score and
would spend money on him.”

“So, we have two shifty characters. One always
willing to take chances and break all the rules and the other in a mid-life
crisis willing to do anything to please him.”

“But that doesn’t mean they’re together committing
crimes. No, I don’t believe Myra is Jane. She loved him and wouldn’t have shot her
boyfriend in the park.” He was thinking aloud. “We’re trying to reconstruct Boyd’s
life down here, okay? We learn that he worked at Bristol Trucking and was
having an affair with the bookkeeper. The affair is no doubt why she ran when
she saw you at her office. She doesn’t have to be Jane just because she ran.
And if she’s not Jane then the trail ends there.”

Sandy said, “Except that she’s running around
spending a lot of money. You said Myra’s neighbor spoke of all her shopping,
and Ryan did also. And she bought a fancy new car. Where did that money come
from? We can’t eliminate her as Jane. We need to keep on digging into the lives
of Ryan and Myra Cramer.”

“And what do we know about sister Gail?” he asked.

“Last name is Holman. I know where she lives in
the high-rent district—the Magnolia Palms. And it’s not where the Internet
directory says she lives, so she must have moved recently. I followed Ryan there,
a ten-story condominium only three blocks from the water. So she must have some
bucks. I wonder what she does for a living.”

“With privacy the way it is today, you’ll find
everything you want to know about her, I’m sure.”

“Ryan parked in the guest parking last night at
his sister’s. I watched his truck until after dark, and he didn’t leave. He told
me he’d most likely stay the night. I stayed up late last night with my tablet
and on the Internet found a Gail Holman at a completely different address over in
Palm Beach Gardens. That has to be her, but the address doesn’t match. I’m
going over there this morning and nose around.”

“And you want me to keep following Myra because
the Cramers are spending a lot of money and it might be ours.”

“Yes. Parking in her neighborhood can lead to
problems. And there’s no sense in following her from home to work. So, go straight
to the trucking company. If she doesn’t show up by nine or ten, then we may
have a problem. I might have scared her enough for her to go into hiding. But I
doubt it. She saw me but she knows I’ve no idea what Jane looks like. I believe
she’d try to bluff it through. In any case, if she’s not at work, then go over
to her house. You might need to talk to that neighbor woman again or actually
knock on Myra’s door.”

After breakfast, Martin got a coffee to go and
left for Bristol Trucking. Intending to arrive just before eight so he could
watch the place open and the employees show up. He’d seriously miscalculated
the morning traffic, took two wrong turns in spite of his GPS and didn’t get there
until almost nine. The good news was he could park at the rear of the McDonald’s
next door and look directly across to the rear lot of the trucking company.

Some cars and pickups were already there. Two
women arrived at nine, parked and went in the rear door. He didn’t know what
Myra looked like, but didn’t see her black Kia anywhere. After an hour, he went
into the McDonald’s and brought out a coffee. He waited one more hour, before
giving up on Myra showing. He phoned Sandy to let her know, then punched his
GPS and headed over to Myra’s neighborhood.

After driving past the Cramer house, and observing
a closed garage door and no sign of life. He parked at the curb two doors down and
across the street in front of the nice neighbor woman with whom he’d chatted
the day before. He was uncomfortable sitting in a parked car out in the open on
that street. In such nice neighborhoods folks aren’t at all reluctant to call
the police.

He moved over and sat in the passenger seat as
though waiting for someone. Not twenty minutes later, he noticed a police
patrol car slowly prowling up behind him. Martin stiffened in his seat. The cop
pulled around and stopped heading in to the curb in front of his car. Had
someone reported him? He could see the officer using his radio and assumed he
was being checked out. Martin thought he should explain. He left his car and
started walking toward the parked police car. The noon air was blazing hot; he
should have left his suit jacket in the car.

The officer quickly opened his car door and waved
him away. “Go in your house, sir.”

“This isn’t my house, officer.”

“Then get back into your car and stay there.”

“I can explain—”

“Get in your car, now!”

Martin hurried back and immediately phoned Sandy, “This
is the last surveillance I’m ever doing.”

“What’s happening?”

Before he could answer, two more police vehicles
approached with lights flashing. He was relieved when they passed him, however
they did pull to the curb in front of the Cramer house.

“Hold on, Sandy. The police know something about
the Cramers that we don’t.”

She said, “Maybe they learned that Myra has our
money.”

“Are you still at the hotel?”

“Just left, I’m on my way to Gail Cramer’s old
address.”

He watched as the officer in front of him left his
vehicle and trotted over to the arriving police. One officer walked around to
the back of the house. The other two went to the front door and knocked. After
a minute of knocking and shouting, one officer ran to the trunk of his patrol
vehicle and carried a sledgehammer back to the front door.

“No answer at the door, Sandy. They’re going to
smash it in.”

Within five seconds, the door was splintered and
swinging open.

“They ran into the house. No! They’re rushing back
out. They’re all excited about something.”

The officers started talking on their radios. The
officer who had spoken to Martin earlier now looked over as if just
remembering. He started running toward him.

“Oh, oh. Here he comes.”

The officer stopped at the side of Martin’s car
just behind the driver side door and pulled his gun out.

“Big problem here, Sandy—”

“Out of the car, mister! Out of the car with your
hands behind your head.”

“Perhaps, I’d better call you back.”

“I can hear the cop...which police, city or county?”

He looked back at the patrol vehicle. “West Palm
Beach.”

“I’m coming over there,” she said.

He slipped the phone in his pocket and got out.

The next few moments were a fast blur for Martin. The
officer had him lean against the car with his legs spread and padded him down.
Then handcuffed him behind his back and helped him into the back of the patrol
vehicle. All in spite of Martin’s continuing protests about being a lawyer from
Park Beach, down there investigating an extortion case.

“Am I under arrest?” Martin sighed.

“Just sit there and be quiet.”

“What’s happening at that house over there?”

The officer didn’t answer just slammed the car
door shut and hurried back to join the others at the Cramer house. More police vehicles
were now arriving on the scene with sirens and lights, parking in the street at
all angles. Clusters of homeowners were now forming in the street and front
yards watching the police string yellow tape around the Cramer property. Some
gaped in at the man in the business suit handcuffed in the rear seat of the
patrol car.

S
andy
fumbled through her notes and found the Cramer home address Jaworski had given
her on the phone. Only a half-hour away but by the time she got there the
streets were already blocked off. She couldn’t get close enough to even see the
house. Something serious was in progress. She had no idea where Martin was and
his last call being interrupted was a bad sign.

She parked and walked over to the young police
officer at the barricade and asked what the excitement was all about.

“I couldn’t tell you even if I did know,” he said
pleasantly. “Just little bits over the radio.”

“And what do those little bits tell you?”

“They tell me to keep my mouth shut. You live in
the neighborhood? Show me some ID and you can pass through.”

“I’m a lawyer. I’m working an extortion case. I was
told the police are at my subject’s house.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her for a
moment. “Forget where you heard it, but the M.E. van went past here about ten
minutes ago.”

“Geez Louise. Okay, thanks a lot. She slowly walked
back to her car, wondering who was dead in the Cramer house. Myra, Ryan, or
some visitor. Myra had suddenly left work yesterday around noon and wasn’t at
work this morning according to Martin.

Sandy went back to her car and phoned Detective Jaworski,
“Got a problem down here, Eddy. Something extra serious is going down at the
Cramer house. The street is blocked off so I can’t get in, but the M.E. is on
the scene.”

“Cramer, you say?”

“You gave me the address yesterday. Myra Cramer was
uptight with our victim Boyd. So she might be Jane, I don’t know yet. I can’t
reach Martin. The West Palm police questioned him. Might even be in custody,
since he hasn’t called me back. He was surveilling the place.”

“He’s not good at that, is he?”

“All my fault. My classy little red convertible is
the exact opposite of what is recommended for undercover work. So, I asked him
to go.”

“Okay, give me the address again...no wait, I have
it here. Ryan and Myra Cramer. West Palm police, you say. I’ll try to find out
what’s going on down there.”

“I hope it’s not Myra.”

“You’re fond of her?”

“I want to save her for myself. I’m thinking she’s
Jane. If she’s the one who held a gun to my head, then I want her alive and
punished in a prison cell. And if she’s the one who shot Boyd, then I want her
to rot there for life.”

“Then let’s hope it’s not her. We’ll soon know.
I’ll call you back.”

She did a quick search for the West Palm Beach
police department and entered the address in her GPS, just to be ready. She
tried Martin again—no answer. She sat listening to more sirens in the distance.

Jaworski phoned back after ten minutes and gave
her the news. The Cramer house had been ransacked and an unidentified female
body found shot dead. Possible suicide but likely homicide. Sandy thanked him and
immediately left for the West Palm police department.

Her head was pounding the entire way. Was it Myra?
She hadn’t shown up at work that morning. What did it mean? Someone else
shooting a gun—someone else murdered. Dick was dead. Could Jane now be dead?
Nothing made sense. First thing—get Martin away from any police problem.

Once at the West Palm police department, she
walked across the large lobby and up to the officer on duty behind the
glassed-in counter. “I’m the attorney for Martin Bronner. I’d like to speak
with him as soon as possible.”

The officer ran her finger down the papers in
front of her. “Spell the name, please.”

Sandy spelled it.

“Don’t see him. When was he arrested?”

“I’m not certain. Maybe two hours ago. Maybe he
wasn’t arrested. Maybe you’re holding him for questioning.”

“Who’s the detective?”

“I don’t know.” Her head was still pounding. “You
tell me. Who’s the detective on the Cramer murder?”

“You know the approximate date of that incident?”

“Your people are on the scene now.”

The woman stared at her for a minute and then smirked.
“Why did you wait so long to come in? We don’t keep files around here forever.”

“I’m sorry. I know I’m rushing things. Martin
Bronner is my law partner. Actually, he’s more than that. No, I don’t mean it
that way...he’s my best friend. I’m concerned.”

“I can see that. I hope you don’t explode while
I’m watching.” She sized up Sandy with a quick glance. “Lady, you know a lot of
things I know nothing about. I’m going to buzz you in. Go through that door
over there. Wait in the hall. I’ll try to find out what's going on. Okay?”

Sandy went through the doorway and was pacing around
the hall, when it occurred to her to call Jaworski back. “I’m in the West Palm
police station right now. Who did you talk to down here, Eddy?”

“Some woman, a sergeant...Swanson. Was willing to
speak with me but didn’t know very much. All just happening. A homicide at that
address was about all she knew. A female victim—way too early for an ID.”

“Thank God I have you available. I’m worried about
Martin. Will you call her back? Tell her the department is holding Martin
Bronner somewhere, and I’m downstairs in the lobby. Tell her we are both good
guys and have material information about the homicide.”

“Sandy, I’m not telling them anything of the sort.
At this point, the West Palm police don’t know that I’ve any connection with
you or Martin, and I’m keeping it that way. I was afraid this would happen. The
West Palm police are now aware of you two. You aren’t down there investigating
on behalf of the Park Beach police. And you must not even suggest that.”

She said, “You’re up there are trying to solve the
murder of Boyd. A woman who was having an affair with him occupies that house. She
is perhaps the victim. The only other female involved in this is her
sister-in-law, Gail. I suppose she might be the dead one. We’ll soon know.”

“Sandy, stop and think. It’s way too early for all
that. The body’s still warm. The West Palm police are running around trying to
figure out what’s going on. Later, if it turns out that Myra Cramer is indeed
the victim, then I’ll initiate the inter-agency protocol to start our
cooperation with the West Palm police. But I’m not mentioning your name. We aren’t
officially working this case together, got it?”

“Got it. Nevertheless, Martin and I are the principals
in the extortion case. We’re both lawyers and have every right to be down here
contacting the police on our own behalf.”

“Okay, keep investigating but keep me out of it. When
I know something, I’ll phone. And one more thing, Sandy, remember someone
unknown is out there with a gun.”

She hung up just as the policewoman opened the
door and motioned her over. “Sorry, just too early. We’ve nothing official yet.
I can tell you the homicide has been assigned to Detective Dominic. His aide is
Sergeant Swanson. You’ll have to wait to see either of them and it could be
hours.”

“Thanks, I’m better now. I’ll come back.”

As she turned and walked away, her phone buzzed.
Too soon for Jaworski...maybe Martin? Neither. State Attorney Mel Shapiro said,
“I didn’t know you and Martin were down there, until Jaworski just told me. Why
are you even there? Please tell me you’re not investigating a new murder in
Palm Beach County.”

She explained about Martin. She brushed away all
of his concerns and said they’d get together at some point to cover everything.
She was pleased to have Mel call and express his concern. She knew he didn’t
phone for any official reason—he was interested in her personally. In any case,
she wasn’t looking beyond her relationship with Chip, and Mel would never make
a move until Chip was out of the picture. She’d never encouraged him, yet it
was nice for her to imagine Mel waiting around. Was that bad?

He said, “Let me know if they hold Martin. Or if I
can help either of you. Meanwhile, I’ll get all the latest from Jaworski.”

She realized it was too early to ask the West Palm
police for any help or information. So far, it was just a mix of second-hand information
and not all of it correct. It would take time for reports to be written,
consolidated and reviewed—time for proper police procedure to be played out. Martin
could no doubt talk himself out of custody. If not, it was still early, still
time to avoid having him spend the night in jail. Jaworski would follow through
and phone her.

She’d go nuts waiting around in the lobby worrying
and hated the feeling of helplessness. Tough to consider a next move, when she
didn’t know the identity of the female victim. Was Ryan angry enough to shoot
his wife? Sandy hoped not. She rather liked him in a sympathetic way. According
to Ryan, both he and Myra would confide in sister Gail who willingly soaked up all
the stories. Sandy knew only a small part of Myra’s life; she wanted to know
what Myra and Boyd were up to when they were not under the sheets. Whatever
Gail had to say should be quite interesting. Especially now that someone had tossed
a murder into this. She needed to chase down Gail.