Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 03 - The Great Chocolate Scam (14 page)

I have no idea how Fred convinced Ross Hamilton, Akin’s private investigator, to talk to us, especially on a Sunday afternoon. I can only speculate that Fred had something on the man or he used Vulcan mind control. I didn’t ask. I just dressed in my long patchwork skirt and white peasant blouse, pulled my hair back and waited for Fred to bring a wig. It was long, blond and straight. I put it on and decided immediately I never wanted to be a blonde. With my already pale skin, I looked like a ghost who’s spent at least a hundred years in a dungeon far away from the sun.

Hamilton’s
office was located in North Kansas City on the back side of a strip mall which had a chiropractor, a dentist and a title company on the front side. The sign on the door of the small office simply read
Hamilton & Associates.
Everything about the place was low-key and discreet, the sort of PI somebody with a high profile would feel comfortable hiring.

A man of medium height and weight with medium brown hair opened the door to
Fred’s knock and extended a hand. “Mr. Sommers? I’m Ross Hamilton.” He had the kind of face that could disappear in a crowd. Low-keyed and discreet. In the jeans and denim shirt he wore that day, he looked like the guy next door. In a blue uniform, he’d probably look like a delivery guy. In work clothes, he could pass for the cable man or phone repair guy.

Fred shook his hand then turned to me.
“This is my assistant, Diana Lindsay.”

Hamilton studied me a moment before offering to shake my hand.
“Have we met before?”

“
I don’t think so.” Suddenly I understood the wig. Hamilton had been following Rick who’d been stalking me. Add to that my recent television appearance, and it was likely Hamilton had seen me. I moved past him, ducking my head and letting the blond hair fall over my face.

He invited us to sit in his low-key, discreet beige client chairs and offered us coffee. Fred refused because
he’s so persnickety about his coffee, and I refused because I don’t like coffee. He didn’t offer a Coke. We Coke drinkers are often discriminated against.

Hamilton took a seat behind his wooden desk. The surface was uncluttered except for a phone and his cup of coffee. He took a sip of the coffee then sat back and folded his arms.
“So Rick Kramer’s alive, and you’re representing him?”

“That’s
correct.”

“
Do you have some identification?”

Fred took out his wallet and withdrew his
driver’s license, a business card and a card showing he was a member of the Missouri State Bar. I almost choked when I saw that last. Impersonating an insurance adjuster or an agent looking for strippers is one thing, but my dad’s a lawyer, and I know that they get more than a little irate when somebody goes around impersonating an attorney.

Hamilton kept the business card and handed the others back to Fred.
“I’m not legally bound to tell you anything about my investigation.”

“
If you don’t want to answer my questions, I understand. Anything you do tell me will be kept completely confidential. My client is in fear for his life. Whatever information you can provide about what you might have seen while you had him under surveillance would be greatly appreciated.”

Hamilton studied us quietly for several moments. Fred studied him back. I fidgeted.

“I wasn’t there the morning of the explosion,” Hamilton said. “I’d already concluded my investigation and turned everything over to Akin.”

“
Are you aware that Julia Akin called the police on four occasions to report physical abuse by her husband?”

“
I was not aware of that. Mr. Akin hired me to find out if his wife was cheating on him. That’s all I was concerned with.”

Fred nodded slowly.
“I understand. And you turned your report over to Mr. Akin before the murder took place?”

“
Yes, I did. Almost a week before.”

“
I see. Does it bother you that you may have provided information that got Mrs. Akin killed?”

“
I did the job I was hired to do.” Hamilton’s voice was calm and even, as though he were discussing the weather, but his jaw tightened and his lips firmed. I did not think he was as unaffected as he wanted us to believe.

Fred sat silently. Hamilton took another sip of coffee. A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead.

“It doesn’t look good for Akin,” Fred said. “His first wife charged him with abuse, but she dropped the charges after she got a hefty settlement.”

That sheen of sweat spread to
Hamilton’s upper lip. He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t involved in that case.”

“
I understand. Not part of your job. And the abuse was never proven.”

We all sat in silence for a moment while
Hamilton’s sweat factor ramped up.

“
When Mr. Akin hired you to follow his wife, did he tell you what he planned to do with the information if you found that she was having an affair?”

Hamilton wrapped his fingers tightly around his coffee cup.
“He discovered she was talking to a lawyer about a divorce. He said his first wife took him for everything, and he didn’t intend for that to happen again. If he could get proof of infidelity, he’d have a bargaining chip.”

“
So he was okay with the divorce, just concerned about the financial aspect of it?”

Hamilton nodded, sitting straighter in his chair.
“I get a lot of cases like that. If one spouse can prove the other one’s cheating, it gives them better leverage in the divorce. Akin wanted to be prepared so as soon as she filed, he could file a countersuit and charge her with adultery.”

“
Divorce. Legal action.” Fred nodded slowly. “Mr. Akin had a pre-nup with his wife. Why did he need further leverage?”

Hamilton’s
fingers twitched slightly as he picked up his coffee cup and lifted it to his lips, taking a sip then setting it back on the desk. If it had been full, he’d have sloshed coffee onto that desk. “I was hired to do a job. The client’s motives are none of my business.”

“
Of course. Did he threaten his wife? Show any signs of violence when he talked about her?”

Hamilton licked his lips and shook his head.
“No. He was always calm and controlled, not a man you’d associate with abuse.”

“
Abusers often show a different side to everybody except their victims. My assistant was married to an abusive man. She’s one of the lucky ones. She escaped with her life.”

I tried to look vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” Hamilton said. “Good thing you got away from him. Not all women do.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as he apparently realized what
he’d said. He took another sip of coffee. His hand shook visibly.

“
I shot him,” I said, wanting to contribute something to the conversation.

Hamilton’s
eyes widened and Fred choked, turning the sound into a cough.

Well, he should have given me a script.

“While you had Mrs. Akin and Mr. Kramer under surveillance, did you observe anything suspicious, anyone else who might be watching either him or her?” Fred asked, changing the subject. Guess he didn’t like my ad-lib.

Hamilton sat silently for a long moment before he finally spoke.
“One night I observed Mr. Kramer fighting with another woman on his front porch while Mrs. Akin was inside his house.”

I leaned forward, waiting to hear the rest of the story. It did not surprise me that Rick would cheat on Julia. Duh.

“Can you describe the incident in more detail?”

Hamilton tented his fingers and seemed relieved to be discussing something other than his guilt in Julia
Akin’s murder. After practically being accused of being an accomplice to murder, he was probably willing to spill his guts about anything that would make him seem less guilty.

“
Mr. Akin was out of town and I followed Mrs. Akin to Mr. Kramer’s house. She’d been inside for about an hour when another car pulled into the driveway and a woman got out.”

“
Can you describe the woman?”

“
Blond hair, medium height, very…umm…pretty.”

From the way he spread his hands in the vicinity of his chest, I figured
pretty
meant
triple D
.

“
She rang the doorbell. Mr. Kramer answered and tried to close the door in her face, but she stuck her purse in the opening and yelled at him.”

“
Could you hear what she yelled at him?”

“
No. I was too far away, and I didn’t have any sound equipment set up. Mr. Akin just asked for pictures.”

Fred nodded.
“Go on.”

“
Mr. Kramer came out on the porch, and the two of them got into it. At first she was smiling and trying to talk to him, but he just kept shaking his head, and that seemed to make her mad. Soon she started hitting him. Punched him in the stomach a couple of times then whacked him in the face with that purse. I figured he’d smack her, but he didn’t. Just put up his hands to protect himself, then ran back in the house. She rang the doorbell and knocked for a long time, but he never came back to the door. I figured it was a former girlfriend though she looked a little older than him, one of those women who work at not looking their age. She was wearing a lot of makeup, and she had long red fingernails.”

Marissa was a little older, wore too much makeup, had long red fingernails and s
he’d certainly smacked Clint and Brad. If it had been a former girlfriend, Rick would have at least grabbed her arms to stop her hitting him. I was glad to know he showed a little respect for his mother, whether or not she deserved it.

“
Do you remember what kind of car she was driving?”

“
It was an old Honda Civic.”

Marissa was now driving a Cadillac, but it was rented.

“Did you get the license plate off that Civic?”

“
Yes.”

The man was putty in
Fred’s hands. He might not want to tell him everything, but he would, if pressed.

“
Did you run the plates?”

“
They came back to some woman who lives in Crappie Creek. I don’t remember the name off the top of my head. Melissa, something like that. I turned in my report shortly after that, and my client wasn’t interested in her identity.”

Melissa, Marissa, Mary. Had to be Mama.

“Do you know who Bryan Kollar is?” Fred asked.

Hamilton appeared puzzled at the question.
“Of course. Everybody around here knows who Bryan Kollar is.”

“
Did you see him with Mr. Kramer at any time?”

“
No. Were the two of them buddies?”

“
They were involved in a business deal. Did you ever, during the time you had Mrs. Akin or Mr. Kramer under surveillance, notice a dark blue Jaguar parked in the area or driving by?”

He shook his head.
“No. I’d have noticed a car like that. In my job, I have to notice everything.”

Fred nodded and stood. Hamilton and I stood
too. Hamilton looked relieved that the interview was at an end.

“
I very much appreciate your sharing your information with us.” Fred stepped forward and extended a hand across Hamilton’s desk.

They shook, then I took
Hamilton’s hand. It was damp. Yeah, the man would be glad to see us leave.

“
Did he die?” Hamilton asked.

“
Rick?” Fred looked surprised at the question. “No, he’s still alive. He’s my client.”

“
I know that. I meant her husband. The one she shot.”

“
No,” Fred said firmly. “She’s a lousy shot.”

I smiled vulnerably.

Actually, I smiled through clenched teeth. Fred would pay for that remark.

My first question as we were slowly wending our way down Interstate 29 in
Fred’s car was, “Can I take off this wig?”

“
By all means. Don’t ever go blond. You’re too pale.”

“
Thank you for that bit of advice.” I pulled off the wig and tossed it into the back seat then glared at him. He didn’t notice. “Who drives a blue Jaguar? Bryan Kollar?”

“
Yes. I was hoping we’d get a hit on him, but that’s a pretty hard car to miss.”

“
Maybe he has a secret car, something not quite so flashy for when he’s stalking people he plans to kill.”

“
Maybe.”

We rode in silence for a couple of minutes.
It’s difficult for me to go long without saying something. “I’ve got some advice for you. You shouldn’t have let Hamilton keep that business card saying you’re a lawyer. I’m pretty sure impersonating a lawyer is a crime.”

Fred continued to stare out the windshield, showing no signs of fear at my dire warning.
“If you represent yourself as a lawyer and dispense legal advice, you can be charged with a crime. I dispensed no legal advice and I did actually pass the Missouri, Kansas and Oklahoma bar exams.”

“
Oh.” It was the only thing I could think of to say. Time for a change of subject. “So where are we headed now? To confront Akin? Do you think he did it?”

“
I think it’s very possible. I’d like to find out if he knew that Julia told Rick about the highway deal. Eventually we’ll talk to him, but right now I thought we might spend Sunday afternoon with the family.”

I turned to look at him in shock and horror.
“You want to go to my parents’ house? Are you sure?”

“
Wrong family. I’m talking about Rick’s family.”

I sat back.
“Okay, I guess I’m up for that. Are you going to tell them Rick’s alive?”

“
No.”

“
You told Hamilton.”

“
We don’t have to worry about Hamilton telling anybody. Right now he’s so guilt-ridden about his possible involvement in a death that he’s going to have bad dreams for a month. He’s really too sensitive for that job.”

“
If Marissa’s the one who tried to kill Rick and we tell her that he’s still alive, she might try again.”

“
Pull in your fangs and stop smiling at that idea.”

I sighed and watched the scenery roll slowly by for a few minutes.
“Can we stop by my house and get my camera first so I can take pictures of the devastation at Rick’s house?”

“
Use your phone.”

“
My camera has higher resolution. It’ll provide Rick with a better image of all the gruesome details.”

“
Our goal is not to get pictures of all the gruesome details. Our goal is to figure out who tried to kill Rick so he’ll sign your divorce papers.”

“You’re
right. For a moment I lost sight of that goal in the anticipation of seeing Rick’s house wrecked.”

“There’s
no reason you shouldn’t enjoy the journey to your goal.”

“
So we can go by for the camera?”

“
No. We don’t want to arrive too late.”

“
Then drive faster.”

He did
n’t.

*~*~*

Rick’s yard was decorated with bright orange, gold and red plastic toys. I was sure the neighbors Rick was always trying to impress would be duly impressed with that.

Marissa answered the door. She looked less than perfect, a little frazzled, but she managed a big phony smile.
“Lindsay, how nice to see you again. And Mr. Sommers. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“
Sorry we didn’t call first.” Fred gave her an equally phony smile. “Lindsay just wanted to see if you were settling in okay, finding everything.”

A crash sounded from somewhere behind Marissa. She whirled around and headed back inside.
“What has that damn kid broken now?”

Fred indicated the open door.
“After you.”

I crossed the foyer into the living room.

Rickie stood in the middle of the living room looking down at Rick’s marble chess pieces and the remnants of what used to be a very ugly but very expensive vase. The champagne beige carpet was now more mud and other unknown substances than champagne. One drape sagged from a bent rod, and the other had been ripped halfway across. The fireplace tongs lay in two pieces on the hearth, and the corner of one of the stones on that hearth had been broken off. The Pueblo Suede paint on the walls had proven to be a suitable background for several crayon scrawls. I took out my cell phone and snapped a couple of pictures to share with Rick.

“
It wasn’t my fault!” Rickie whined. “It was an accident!”

“
You little monster!” Marissa shrieked, seizing the child by one arm.

“
Leave him alone!” Grace charged up and grabbed Marissa’s arm.

Marissa turned her attention to her attacker.
“That brat has wrecked this place! Don’t you have any control over him?”

“
You mean the kind of control you have over your sons? You want me to slap him around like you do Mike and Dan? You think that’s the right way to raise a child? You think it’s right to send them upstairs to their rooms at their age?”

“
After what they did yesterday, I believe the punishment was justified. You notice they did what I told them to do. My sons are a lot better behaved than yours!” Marissa leaned forward, getting in Grace’s face. “But what chance did that demon child have anyway with Kenneth Reardon for a father?”

Grace slapped Marissa.

Marissa grabbed a handful of Grace’s hair and yanked.

Rickie moved to one side of the room and picked up
Rick’s crystal wine decanter. Apparently fascinated with the rainbow refractions, he moved it around in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window past the torn drapes.

Grace and Marissa scratched, punched, pulled and cursed.

I took pictures.

“
I guess we’d better stop them.” Fred took a step in the direction of the fight.

I put out an arm to halt him.
“Do we have to?”

“
If we want to talk to them.”

“
Fine, go ahead. But I was really hoping to see a little blood.”

“
Ladies…” Fred pushed the women apart and held them firmly. “I feel certain we can resolve this without resorting to physical violence.”

“
How dare you say that about Kenneth being Rickie’s daddy right in front of him?” Grace demanded, struggling to free herself from Fred’s grip. “How can you hurt your own grandson like that, you bitch?”

“
Because that little demon is
not
my grandson! Okay, Kenneth may not be his father. I have no idea how many other men you slept with, and you probably don’t either! But I know one thing for certain, my son did not father that brat!”

The sound of breaking glass interrupted the insult fest. Rickie stood beside the fireplace looking down at the shattered decanter on the stone hearth.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” he whined.

Grace raced over to him.
“Be careful you don’t cut yourself.”

“He’s
going to destroy everything in this house!” Marissa shouted.

Grace wrapped an arm around
Rickie’s thin shoulders and glared at Marissa. “So what if he does? It’s his house!”

At that moment I would have liked to tell them Rick was still alive and neither one of them was getting a penny, but I held my tongue and kept taking pictures. I could do some sort of a collage for Rick.
He’d so enjoy it. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t enjoy it, but I’d enjoy watching him not enjoy it.

“
Ladies, can we sit down and talk for a few minutes?” Fred actually appeared a little frazzled. “There are some things about Rick’s estate that we need to discuss.”

Marissa
jabbed a hand through the air toward Grace. “Talk to her while she cleans up the messes her brat made. I’ve got to get dressed. Bryan’s coming to take me to dinner.”

“That’s
disgusting!” Grace said. “He’s young enough to be your son.”

Marissa smiled and arched a perfect eyebrow.
“But he’s not my son. Jealous because you can’t even find an old man who wants you?”

Grace stooped and began picking up the larger pieces of broken crystal. Rickie turned on the big screen television.
“Bryan doesn’t want you,” Grace snapped. “He just wants the property he thinks you’re going to own.”

“
And he’s willing to pay me a lot of money for the property I’m going to own as soon as my son’s estate is settled. Will you turn that television down? Are you deaf?”

Rickie changed the channel but made no move to turn down the volume.

“How much money is he going to pay you?” Fred asked, flinching from the loud commercial.

Marissa’s
smile widened as she quoted the figure. “We’ve already signed an Intent to Sell, so he has no reason to take me to dinner except that he likes my company.”

“
What about the shopping center?” I asked. “Wouldn’t you make more money on that if you kept the property?”

She gave an indolent shrug.
“Why be greedy? Besides, I don’t know the first thing about putting together a shopping center. I plan to sell all those properties.”

“
What happens to those properties will be up to Rick’s son! I’ll bet Bryan wouldn’t be hanging around you so much if he knew that!” Grace charged over to where Fred and Marissa stood.

“
Have you forgotten you tried to tell him that, and he didn’t believe you? When that DNA test comes back, you’re going to look pretty stupid.”

Grace tossed the crystal remnants at Marissa. One barely missed
Fred’s cheek as he ducked. “You can take your DNA test and stick it! I’m not putting my son through something like that!” She grabbed Rickie’s arm and stomped out of the room.

Marissa glared at their departing backs.
“I’ll be so glad when this is all over and that little bitch goes back to Crappie Creek where she belongs.” She looked over at me. “When is that DNA test going to be finished?”

I looked at Fred, and she caught the direction of my gaze. She smiled up at Fred.
“Any idea when this is going to be settled? When will we hear about the results of the DNA test?”

“
Another day or two.”

Marissa nodded. Now that I knew about the vasectomies, I realized why she was so confident Rickie was not
Rick’s son. “Have they caught my son’s killer?” She batted her eyelashes at Fred.

“
Not yet, but soon. They’ve got some strong leads.”

“
Good. Can you show yourselves out? I need to change.” She started from the room.

“
They know about the fight you and Rick had on his front porch,” I said.

She stopped and turned back to look at me, her eyes narrowed.
“How would anybody know about private discussions my son and I had?”

“
Not so private when you’re outside shouting. People saw, people heard, people told me.”

“
And I suppose you told that cop you’re dating.”

I shrugged. Obviously I was no longer her darling Lindsay.
“You can suppose anything you want. Just be prepared when they come to question you.”

She shot me a final glare and disappeared up the stairs.

Fred and I went out the door.

A dark blue Jaguar pulled into the driveway as we cross
ed the porch. Oh, yay. We were going to get to talk to Bryan again. Be still, my heart.

He got out of the car…smiling, of course.
“Lindsay and Fred. Nice to see you again. Have you been visiting with Marissa?”

“
Marissa and Grace and, of course, Rick’s son,” I said. “I understand you have an agreement with Marissa, but have you talked to Rickie about getting your parents’ property back? Intestate dead person, half to the spouse and half to the lineal descendants, per stirpes. That means his only lineal descendant, Rickie.”

He was so hot to get that property back, willing to pay an outrageous price for it, I just thought
I’d rattle his chain, see what he’d do if he wasn’t so sure the property was going to belong to Marissa. Okay, I was trying to stir up trouble. That smarmy man and those two women inside deserved some trouble.

Bryan’s
smile didn’t falter as he climbed the steps to the porch. “Marissa assures me that boy is not Rick’s son. The DNA test will prove it.”