The Demise (6 page)

“Kid, didn’t they teach you anything at that Acme Detective School you went to? Don't let it happen again. Got it?”

“Yeah. Got it.”

“Couple of things have come up,” Berkowitz said, lowering his voice even more. Julie inched closer but stayed out of sight. “Coroner says Lanham died of a broken neck. Looks like he hit headfirst on that pavement. Cracked his skull on impact and popped that expensive neck of his.”

“So you think it was a suicide?”

“Did I say that? No. We know what caused his death, but at this point that’s all
we know. What about you? Learn anything yesterday? Find a note? Anyone letting their guard down today?”

“No note. I came in early to work over Lanham’s computer.”

“I thought we sent that to the IT guys. What’s it still doing here?”

“I decided to take a look at it first.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“Call it intuition.”

“I can think of all kinds of things to call it—”

“Look, just give me the rest of the day. If I get in over my head, I’ll personally deliver it to the Nashville office.”

“Then you better hope you find something.”

“I’ve found some interesting files, a few things I want to look into. From everything I heard yesterday, nobody around here seems to think he would have jumped. He was the captain of the ship around here. A classic Type A choleric personality. Guys like that don’t usually jump.”

“A cleric? From what I heard, he’s hardly the priest type. The man obviously liked his women.”

Julie stifled a snicker at the faux pas.

“Not cleric—choleric. It’s a personality type. It means he kept the upper hand in everything. Nothing got by him.”

“Fine. Whatever. Look, I’ve got no time for this right now. We’ve had a break in a cold case I handled a couple of years ago. Fugitive located in Memphis. I’m on my way there now. Which means you’re gonna have to take over this investigation for the time being. It’s probably nothing but a suicide anyway. Even the Rockefeller types have a breaking point, know what I mean? Just try to wrap it up for me nice and neat with a bow on top. Got it?”

“Sure. I’ll handle it.”

“Just make sure you keep that cell phone on you at all times,” Berkowitz continued. “I don’t care if you’re in the can, you keep it on you. Oh, and one last thing. Whatever you do, keep your distance from the locals. Use ’em if you have to, learn what you can, but don’t go Mayberry on me. Small-town folks are weird. You can’t trust ‘em.”

“Whatever.”

“Consider yourself warned. I’m outta here.”

Julie darted back to the sink before Matt returned to the break room. She turned on the faucet full force.

“Oh—hi,” he said, startled. “I didn’t know you were still in here.”

“What’s that?” she said over her shoulder. “Oh. Matt . . . sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. What did you say?”

“Never mind. It wasn’t important.”

She motioned toward the stains. “Not much improvement, I see.”

“None at all. I’ve got clothes in my car, so I’ll go find something else to put on.”

Julie smiled. “Do you always keep extra clothes with you?”

“Not usually. But I decided to find a room here in Braxton instead of making the drive back and forth from Nashville every day. I haven’t had time to find an apartment yet, and the motel I’ve been staying in isn’t great. It just made sense to stay here instead. For now, anyway.”

“Good idea. Think of all the time and gasoline you’ll save.”

“Exactly.”

“Listen, Matt, I want to apologize again for what happened with Mr. Smithe. No one should be treated like that. Least of all a guest.”

Matt arched his brow. “Somehow I doubt Smithe considers me a guest. More of an intruder. He made that clear to me earlier this morning.”

“Really?”

“No big deal, but is he always such a pain?”

“Always.” She filled a mug of coffee and handed it to him, then poured one for herself. “I’ve learned to keep a distance whenever possible. I refuse to engage him in his little tirades. He’s always reminded me of Stanley Tucci playing the part of Napoleon.

He laughed. “Now that you mention it, I see a definite resemblance. Creepy, isn’t it?”

“Creepy. Scary. Ridiculous. Frustrating—all that and more. Regardless, he had no right to accost you like that. He was the one who ran into you, not the other way around.”

“Doesn’t really matter. At least not to me.” Matt moved to the counter beside her then leaned against it. “Tell me something. How did he and Lanham get along?”

She started to answer then stopped, taking a sip of coffee to stall for a moment.
Mr. Smithe? A suspect? Can’t believe I didn’t think of him before. I should look into that. I should see if I can—

“Julie?”

“Yes? Oh, right. You asked if Mr. Smithe and Mr. Lanham got along. That’s a difficult question to answer. They seemed to get along for the most part. Although everyone knows Smithe is a real kiss-up when he wants to be.”

“You’re kidding. Napoleon—a kiss-up?”

“Oh yeah. Like a chameleon, especially whenever board members or corporate guests are around. As soon as they were gone, he’d be back to his usual hateful self, treating the rest of us like pond scum.”

“Pond scum?” Matt chuckled. “That’s a new one.”

“
My Best Friend’s Wedding
. Julia Roberts, confessing to Dermott Mulroney how she tried to break up his wedding. She calls herself pond scum. He’s very, very hurt, you see, so he tells her ‘No, lower.’ In utter humility, she answers, ‘I am the
fungus
that
feeds
on the pond scum.’ ‘Lower,’ he says. It goes downhill from there, but you get the drift.”

Matt scratched his head, clueless. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“Oh, don’t mind me. The world’s a movie. Everything reminds me of a scene in a movie or stage play.”

“I suppose that comes with the territory. Being that you’re an actress.”

“I’m an
actor.
The term is gender-neutral now. But yes, it definitely comes with the territory.”

Julie followed Matt as they left the room. He lowered his voice. “So you never heard Smithe and Lanham argue or have a heated exchange?”

“Actually, yes.” Her mind replayed some of the shouting matches coming from Lanham’s office.

“Recently?”

She thought for a moment. “Quite recently, in fact. Just a few days ago.” Julie visualized Smithe’s face, flushed scarlet as he slammed the door leaving Peter Lanham’s office. What had they fought about? Smithe was a jerk, but was he capable of murder?

Matt stopped beside Lanham’s office door. “Any idea what they were arguing about?”

“No, but it wasn’t the first time I heard Mr. Smithe raise his voice at Mr. Lanham. From where I sit there in the reception area? Trust me, I’ve seen and heard it all.”

“I’ll bet you have. And I’d like to ask more about that. Any chance we could have lunch together?”

Julie noticed a slight blush across his cheeks. “I’d like that. That will give me a chance to tell you about last night. I get an hour for lunch starting at eleven.”

“Good. How about Denton’s? I think I saw a sign that said they serve chicken and dumplings on Wednesdays.”

She peeked down the hall, then turned back to face him. “Too many ears at Denton’s, if you know what I mean. How about a burger at Sonic? That way we can talk without worrying about someone listening in on our conversation. And no one will mind that your clothes are all stained.”

He looked down. “Right. I think I’ll head down to my car shortly and save the embarrassment.”

“Good idea. Later, gator.”

“After while, crocodile.”

Chapter 7

“One double cheeseburger with no onions, a grilled chicken sandwich with no condiments, an order of tater tots, and two medium Diet Cokes.” The garbled female voice repeated their order through the car-side intercom. “Will there be anything else?”

“No, that’s all,” Matt answered, digging his wallet out of his pocket.

“That’ll be $12.78. Your server will be right out.”

“Thanks.” Matt switched the air conditioner to high as the power window closed. “Must be 110 degrees out there today. Is this normal for Tennessee?”

Julie unfastened her seat belt so she could lean against the passenger door. “It is for this time of year. August is the worst, but it won’t last forever. We get all four seasons. I’ll take fall or winter or spring any day over the heat. How about you?”

“Call me crazy, but I love winter. Probably because I grew up in Texas and never saw much snow.”

“Where in Texas?”

“Arlington, between Fort Worth and Dallas.”

“Ah, big Cowboys fan?”

“I cannot lie. It’s in my DNA.”

“You might want to keep that to yourself around here. We’re die-hard Titans’ fans.”

“I figured as much. But I won’t hold it against you.”

A redhead on roller blades arrived with their order. Matt handed Julie the bag and drinks, then paid the attendant. They poked straws in their drinks and unwrapped their sandwiches. Julie placed her hand over his and spoke a quick prayer, thanking God for their food and asking Him to guide them through the rest of the day.

“Amen,” she finished, then looked over at him. Seeing the awkward expression on his face made her smile. “Sorry. Guess I should have asked first.”

“No, it’s okay. Really.”

“You’ll get used to it.” She grabbed a tater tot.  “At least I hope you will.”

“Sure. I mean, yeah. I will.”

“Good. I’m glad.” She snatched another tater tot.

He cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink. “So tell me again why we couldn’t meet at Denton’s where it’s nice and cool inside?”

“I keep telling you, Matt. This is a small town. People talk. And if anyone had seen me there with you, I guarantee by the time I got back to work, the whole town would know who you are and what you’re doing here. And by association, they’d assume that I’m involved in the investigation, which I’m trying to hide so that I can actually work undercover, thereby contributing more to the investigation.”

She took a bite of her sandwich then looked back at him. He stopped chewing and stared at her.

“What?”

He put down his burger then stretched his neck from side to side. He started to say something then stopped.

“Is there a problem?”

Matt nodded his head in an awkward pattern as he tried to speak. “There are so many problems with what you said . . . on so many different levels, I don’t even know where to begin. I thought I asked you to let me handle this investigation. What part of that didn’t you understand?”

“Oh, that.” Julie chuckled, waving him off. “After you hear what I tell you, I think you’ll change your tune. That’s because last night . . .” she paused for effect, “I decided to make a visit to Donella’s.”

“I trust this so-called visit was simply a gesture of your good will and nothing more?”

“Well, sure. I guess you could say that.” She smiled, enjoying his discomfort. “I took her some cookies, and she welcomed me inside. I tried to console her as best I could—”

“Oh, I’m sure you did.”

“Then she offered to make us some tea. So while she was out of the room, I hurried over to search her desk.”

“You WHAT!?”

“Oh, c’mon, Matt. Just hear me out.” Julie noticed he was clenching his jaw again.
“That’s when I spotted a checkbook. Not just any checkbook, mind you. It was Mr. and Mrs. Lanham’s
personal
checkbook.”

He closed his eyes. “Just please tell me you didn’t take it.”

“Of course not!” she answered, indignant.

“Well, thank the Lord for small wonders and—”

“I just ripped out a deposit slip from the back of it.”

“You WHAT?! Are you out of your—”

“Oh, give it a rest, will you? She’ll never miss it.” She popped another tater tot in her mouth.

He stuffed the remainder of his burger into the bag and turned toward her. He raised a trembling hand, palm toward her face. “Now you listen to me, Julie Parker.” A slow burn seemed to singe his voice. “I will not allow you to tamper with evidence or . . . or sabotage this case. Do you understand me? I want your word that you’ll stay out of this investigation.”

She shrugged then took a slow sip from her drink. “Then I guess you don’t want to hear about the strange appearance of the not-so-grieving widow of the deceased, do you?”

He closed his eyes again and slowly shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Patricia Lanham.” Julie measured her words, acutely aware of the fine line she was walking. “Peter Lanham’s widow, who showed up wearing a scarf and sunglasses—like a perfect reincarnation of Audrey Hepburn playing Regina Lambert in the 1963 version of
Charade
—even though it was already dark outside, thus no need for the sunglasses. Plus she was acting even more peculiar than usual.”

He blinked rapidly as though trying to digest her summary. “Forget Audrey Hepburn; you said Mrs. Lanham was acting more peculiar than usual. How so?”

“Surely some of those you questioned yesterday told you about Patricia?”

“Of course they did. They told us she’s aloof. Often unfriendly. But lots of boss’s wives keep a distance. It’s hardly enough to make her a suspect.”

“She’s more than just aloof and unfriendly, Matt. She’s driven. She’s mean. She’s condescending and calculating, even to those closest to her. And for the record, her behavior toward Donella is reprehensible.”

“Why is that? Is she jealous?”

Julie noticed his tone had changed. The overt anger seemed to be ebbing away as curiosity slipped into its place. “Jealous? Of Donella?” She barked a laugh. “Patricia jealous of Donella? Oh no, no, no. My guess is Patricia thinks Donella knows more about Peter Lanham than she does. I’ll even take it a step further. I think she’s desperately afraid her husband’s alleged suicide could prevent her from inheriting his fortune and control of the Lanham corporate empire.”

“So what are you saying? You think Patricia could have had something to do with Peter’s death?”

Julie leaned back against the door and folded her hands on her lap. “Those are your words, not mine. Though it’s common knowledge that the spouse of someone who’s died under suspicious circumstances is usually the first suspect.”

He toyed with a tater tot, staring at nothing in particular. Julie could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind.

“If she’s as calculating as you say she is, I’ll bet there’s a prenup. Folks that wealthy don’t do anything without a prenup these days. Though, they’ve been married so long, it might not have seemed to be an issue way back then.”

“It’s possible, I suppose. And definitely worth looking into, wouldn’t you agree?”

He nodded. “Yes.” Then, turning toward her, “So what did she do at Donella’s? Don’t tell me she joined your little tea party.”

“Hardly. I told her how sorry I was about the loss of Mr. Lanham, then I tried to hug her. There’s a reason everyone calls her the Ice Queen. She completely ignored my attempts at sympathy and insisted on talking to Donella privately. So they took off down the hall, and that’s when I—”

“That’s when you committed burglary by ripping out a deposit slip from the Lanham’s personal checkbook.”

She scoffed with an attempt at laughter. “Oh now, let’s not get too formal with the implied threats here. Yes, that’s when I took a little ol’ innocent deposit slip, but there’s something even more curious that I discovered.”

“Oh, do tell.” Matt leaned his head back against the headrest.

“As I leafed through the pages of the checkbook, I noticed a number of identical entries. Month after month. Same date each month. Same amount.”

“So? People pay their bills monthly. Sometimes the exact amount every month. That’s hardly suspicious.”

“I suppose. But $5000? To someone named Jenny Gresham? Sounds a little suspicious, if you ask me.”

“That’s just the point, Miss Parker. I did
not
ask you. What I have asked is for you to stay out of this investigation before you blow it completely. Now hand over the deposit slip.”

She stared at him, frustrated but undeterred. “Very well. Have it your way.” Julie reached into her purse and pulled the folded deposit slip from her billfold.

Matt wiped his hands on his napkin then carefully took the slip from her. He tucked it into his shirt pocket then gathered the trash from their meal. “I should take you back to the office.”

“Look, Matt. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. But I promise, all I want to do is help.”

He took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” He looked up at her. “But this case is important to me. I need to solve it quickly, but strictly by the book. I can’t afford even the slightest slip-up or mishandling of evidence or witnesses. You have to promise me you’ll stay out of it. Understood?”

Julie searched his eyes. They’d mellowed considerably. She rolled her eyes playfully. “I’ll try.”

“Not good enough.”

“I said I’ll try! But I still have to work at Lanham’s. And I see things. I hear things. What am I supposed to do, blindfold myself and wear earplugs?”

“Of course not. If you see anything or hear anything I should know about, then tell me. But under no circumstances are you to go poking around for any more clues or evidence. “Got that, Miss Marple?”

Julie watched a slow smile creep across his face. She smiled back, holding out her hand. “Got it. Shall we shake on it?”

He took her hand in a mock attempt at solidarity. When she didn’t let go, he held it a moment longer. “Well, then.”

“Well, then, indeed.” She laughed. “And this would be your cue to . . .”

His eyebrows arched. “To—?”

“—take me back to the office.”

“Oh. Sure. Gotta get you back.” He started the car.

As they pulled out of the lot, Julie tried to sound nonchalant. “So what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’ve got a few folks I need to talk to, then tonight I thought I’d—” He stopped abruptly.

“You thought you’d what?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

“Oh Matt, don’t be silly. I said I’d stay out of the investigation. That doesn’t mean you can’t tell me what you’re doing.”

He drove in silence for a brief moment. “I thought I’d check out the water tower. I want to go up there when it’s dark. To see how it looked when Lanham took his last breath.”

“That’s a great idea.”

He tossed a quick glance. “Yeah?”

“Sure. It makes perfect sense. You trace his steps, try to zone in on what he might have been thinking . . . or if there was someone else up there with him. Get a feel of what happened.”

“Exactly,” he answered.

“Matt?”

“What?”

“Please let me come with you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I won’t get in your way. I won’t bother you at all! But I can point out things you don’t know. Give you an idea of the territory. Plus, I can tell you about all the pranks kids pull up there. I would be invaluable to you up there. Please?”

They rode in silence again. She fought the urge to beg.

Matt pulled into the back lot at Lanham’s headquarters, then came to a stop. “Are you always this persistent, Miss Parker?”

“Always. It’s one of my defining characteristics. So what time will you pick me up tonight?”

“I must be out of my mind.” He sighed and let his head fall back. “Ten o’clock.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.” She opened the door and got out of the car.

“Oh, and Miss Parker?”

“It’s Julie.”

“Fine, then. Julie?”

“Yes?”

“Be sure to bring a strait-jacket. I feel quite certain I’m going to need one in the near future.”