Life Without Parole: A Kate Conway Mystery (37 page)

I kept mulling over whether to call Dugan again, whether to try to see Tim. Despite my first reaction after I’d learned the truth, I knew that confronting a liar isn’t as satisfying as it should be. People sometimes sputter, occasionally break down in tears, but more often than not, they just attack, weaving a new set of lies and leaving the confronter feeling confused. Even if I could get into Dugan, I told myself it wasn’t worth the effort.

The thing about Tim, and me, and all other practiced liars is there’s always a nugget of fact in there somewhere, a hint of truth that’s just enough to make the rest plausible. Even the stories about a girl finding her prince make the point that true love matters more than beauty or castles or family connections. It covers the lie that love conquers all, that it never dies, and that once you find the man of your dreams you’ll never be lonely again.

For Tim, even in a story that was an elaborate fiction of loving son and grieving husband, that nugget of fact was Jenny’s outstretched arm. And maybe the sad, harsh reality that drugs had put him on the path to prison.

For Erik, the truth was that vision for Club Car. The friends, the glamour, the restaurants in New York and Paris, they were his invention. Walt’s truth was his desire to run his own kitchen from the ground up, Ilena’s that she wanted money of her own, Roman’s that he was a legitimate businessman, and Doug’s that he wanted adventures that had so far eluded him. But each one covered lies, and hiding behind one of those lies was a murderer.

I used to think that people lied for a lot of reasons, but on the drive home I saw that Brick was right. They lied for only a few. And they killed for the same ones. Love, hunger, sex, fear. Love turned into obsession, hunger into greed, sex into jealousy, and fear into hatred. Whoever had killed Erik had done it for one of those reasons.

As I pulled onto my street, tired and ready to collapse, I had a change of heart. I drove past my house and toward Area Four headquarters. I waited for Detective Makina at reception.

“Another interview?” he asked when he saw me. “Because I really don’t have time for that. I’ve got a second homicide in the Club Car case.”

“It isn’t Doug. The man who was shot at the house,” I said. I was guessing, but in my gut I knew I was right.

Makina stared at me. “How do you know that?”

“Doug wanted adventure, excitement. That isn’t motive for murder. But he stumbled into some financial fraud. He talked to Walt. He talked to Ilena. Then Erik ended up dead. He must have panicked when he heard. He ran,” I said.

“I’m with you so far. So why don’t you think he’s the vic in the Oak Park house?”

“Because Doug went back there. He’s a careful guy. He’s never been on the run before, so he needed help from people, from Walt and Vera. But he’s not stupid enough to go back to his own house unless he felt it was safe. He would have just sent Vera to get his passport. He went himself because he was sure nothing would happen to him. Maybe because he knew Erik’s killer was already dead.”

Makina looked impressed. “It was Roman Papadakis. One shot to the back of the head, execution style.”

“Did Doug kill him?”

“You can ask him yourself.”

“Is he under arrest?” I asked Makina.

“Not yet. He’s guilty of something, but I can’t figure out yet if it’s murder. I’m going to let him sit in interrogation until he lawyers up or figures out he’s free to go.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Are you going to tell him I can’t hold him without cause?”

“As far as I’m concerned, you can keep him here indefinitely,” I said. “Just promise I can get it on tape if he does something stupid.”

“Just as long as I don’t have to get back on camera, you can have anything you like.” He smiled. It looked as if he was out of practice, but it was definitely a smile. He pointed toward interrogation, and I moved quickly before he changed his mind.

Makina led me to a small, stuffy room with a wooden table and four chairs. Doug was sitting alone at the corner. He looked up at me, then burst into tears. I sat opposite Doug. Makina stayed near the door, watching. I knew Makina was giving me leeway, something that could be revoked at any minute, but I also knew he was using me, hoping I could pry something out of Doug that he couldn’t.

Doug was a pathetic figure. He looked tired, he was unshaven, his clothes were wrinkled. If he’d been trying to fake the look of a man frightened for his life, this would be it. But I didn’t think he was faking. His hands were trembling and his skin was pale.

“You didn’t kill Erik,” I said.

Doug shook his head.

“But you set Vera up to take the fall. You made sure she had a gun. You made sure she was at the restaurant.”

“I…I—” More sobbing.

“Let me try and guess, and you tell me if I’m right,” I said.

Doug nodded.

“You got involved in the restaurant. You helped get investors. Were Ilena and Roman secretly selling off their shares?”

“No,”
Doug said. Then more tears.

“Okay, so these other investors, the ones you got with Ilena, they were extra. You were selling shares that didn’t exist. Maybe a hundred and fifty, two hundred percent of the restaurant.” Doug nodded, so I continued. “That’s why you didn’t go to the police after Erik was killed. You knew that his killer was after you, but if you told the police what you knew, you could go to prison.”

My guess was five years in Dugan wasn’t on Doug’s bucket list.

“This wasn’t your idea, Doug,” I said. “But you let yourself get talked into it. One small lie, but it kept getting bigger, kept getting worse.”

“You don’t know what that’s like,” he said.

“I know exactly what that’s like.”

Makina stepped forward. “Who killed Erik?”

“Roman,” Doug said.

“And you killed Roman?” Makina asked. “Was it self-defense?”

“I didn’t kill Roman. I found him like that. And then I ran.” Doug took a halting breath. “When Erik stormed off after he fought with Vera, Roman told me he’d buy out my shares. He’d buy out Vera. He insisted on it. Roman’s a dangerous guy.”

“So you wanted to have a gun to protect yourself,” I said. “Why not get one yourself? Why get Vera to buy it?”

Doug looked away. A little of the helplessness was gone. “It was just in case something went wrong. I didn’t think I’d need it, but if I did, I didn’t want it traced back to me,” he said. I couldn’t picture Doug going up against Roman, but it was his fantasy. “I’d planned everything out. I was supposed to meet Roman at the restaurant. I told Vera to come about twenty minutes after I was supposed to meet Roman. I told her to park around the corner so she wouldn’t be seen. That way Roman wouldn’t know she was there until I knew it was safe. I didn’t want Vera to get hurt.”

“Chivalrous,” I said. He was fine with her being a murder suspect, just not a murder victim. If Doug represented the available dating pool, then I was going to be single for a long time.

“If it was safe, then we’d sign some papers,” Doug continued. “We’d
get our money back. But when I got there, Erik was dead. I knew it had to be Roman, so I ran.”

“Leaving Vera to look like she’d killed Erik,” I said. “And worse, leaving her to face Roman alone.”

“I was scared,” he said. “I had to save myself. It’s not like we were in love.”

“That’s your defense?” I nearly jumped over the table to throttle him. “What about the roses? What about number forty-two on the bucket list?”

Doug looked at me but said nothing. Makina grabbed my elbow and escorted me from the room. “Why don’t you get some air? Two homicides is enough,” he said into my ear.

Vera was waiting at Makina’s desk. “Doug is here,” she said. “I got a call from my lawyer. He looked into it for me and found that Doug hadn’t been killed.” She seemed hopeful. I hated to ruin it for her, but there was no choice.

“He’s not a good guy,” I said. Vera looked past me toward interrogation. I was half-afraid she’d run back there, looking for him. “Just trust me, Vera.”

She looked at me for a long time. If I’d had a camera, I would have shot the play of emotions across her face in slow motion. Eventually she just looked resigned. “Okay.” She didn’t look back at interrogation again.

We walked out of the station together. Despite the five hundred bucks, my car wouldn’t start. I left it in the parking lot and Vera offered me a ride. She didn’t ask any questions, even when I made several phone calls and asked her to drive me to Club Car instead of bringing me home.

I
t took an hour to get everything arranged. Andres and Victor moved boxes around, placing the camera nearby but keeping it completely out of sight.

“There,” Andres instructed me as he pointed toward the oven. “Don’t block the shot; don’t move from that spot.”

“Got it.”

“We’ll be right outside. We have a monitor plugged into the camera, so we’ll see everything, but monitors don’t have sound, so I won’t be able to hear.”

“I know.”

Andres took one last look and me, then shook his head. Victor was arranging Vera’s wireless mic so it was hidden. “This is nuts. It’s a damn cable business show.”

“I’m not really doing this for the show,” I said for the tenth time. “I’m doing it so Makina will have proof of the real killer.” I smiled. “But it will make a nice ending to the piece.”

Andres and Victor left out the back door of the kitchen into an alley that was probably crawling with rats. I knew they’d be crouched in a corner, watching, in case I needed them. I was a lucky producer. Some camera crews gripe about just doing overtime.

I made a call and explained that I wanted to talk and would be at the restaurant in twenty minutes. Then Vera and I took a walk around the block to make it seem as though we were just arriving. By the time we got back, Ilena was in the kitchen, sitting on a stool and carefully arranging and rearranging the knives. She was, once again, dressed impeccably, in a brown tweed skirt, beige crewneck sweater, and a Hermès scarf tied around her neck, nearly hiding a pearl necklace.

I stood by the oven as I was supposed to, and positioned Vera next to me. With Ilena in front, the three of us formed a tight triangle. Perfect for the shot, but odd-looking given the size of the kitchen. Ilena didn’t seem to notice.

“
Was the restaurant always a scam?” I asked.

“What are you talking about?” She held a paring knife. It glistened.

“This was your chance at freedom,” I said. “But, as my sister pointed out, Roman took that away from you by getting so involved. I just found out from Doug that Roman was trying to buy off the few shares that he didn’t already have.”

“And this is what? Blackmail?” She laughed. “How adorably sinister.” She looked toward Vera. “Do you really need the money?”

“I’m tired of being treated like a ditzy heiress,” Vera said, exactly as we’d planned. “Doug dragged me into this mess, conned me out of my money, set me up to be Erik’s killer; he even cheated on me with you.”

“You didn’t lose much,” Ilena said. “He’s very dull.”

“That’s not really the point,” I said. “Look, Ilena, you got screwed over by the man you loved. So did I. And now it looks like Vera’s joined the club. We’re not here to blackmail you. We’re here to help you. You’re going to need to get out of the country fast, before the police find you. You won’t be able to access funds until you’re somewhere safe. Vera has money, and I know people. I’ve done stories on faking an identity.”

Ilena studied my face. I looked sincere, like a friend ready to help. Just like I always do when I’m interviewing someone. “What’s in it for you?” she asked.

I knew I couldn’t pretend altruism, so I went for a lie that, coming from me, would sound self-serving enough to be true. “I’m going to give you a camcorder. When you get settled, I want you to record your version of events and send it to me. No return address. You get away and I get an ending to my story that will get me noticed.”

She smiled, if you could call it that. There was no joy in it, but there was approval. “Roman hated you,” she said. “He couldn’t intimidate you, and he hated it when he couldn’t scare people. Especially women.”

“Then the bastard got what he deserved,” Vera improvised. I knew she was just playing along, but maybe somewhere there was a self-preserving bitch buried deep. I was a little proud, like a teacher watching a student cross the platform on graduation day.