Weapon of Choice, A (3 page)

Chapter 5

I noticed the dark blue Mercedes convertible in the driveway of the massive Gambrel house where Gregory Frazier lived.  The grounds were meticulously maintained.

I pulled up to the curb and parked.  I grabbed my purse, locked my car, and strolled up to the front door.  I had no idea what to expect of Candice’s step-dad, but I told myself to keep an open mind. 

A man answered the door.  He was in his mid forties, had a broad face, receding hairline, and a bit of grey at the temples.  He wore a crisp polo shirt with khaki shorts.  He was probably very handsome in his thirties, but things were starting to go the other way. 

“Good afternoon,” I said, “Are you Gregory Frazier?”

He studied me for a second, hands on hips, before finally raising his eyebrows.  “Ah, yes,” he said, pleasantly.  “You must be the private detective Candice told me about.”

“Sarah Woods.  I hope I didn’t come at a bad time.”

“Not at all.  Come on in.”

He held the door open graciously.  His overly affable demeanor immediately put me on edge.  I got the sense he was overcompensating for something.

He led me through the foyer and into a kitchen with fancy marble countertops and stainless steel appliances. 

“What would you like to drink?” he asked.  “I have soda, water, coffee, beer, or wine.”

“Nothing for me,” I said.  “I’m fine.”

He invited me to sit at the counter.  “So, I assume you want to talk about Melanie.  Candice probably told you I was out of town when she died.”

“Yes.  I’m very sorry about your wife, by the way.”

He nodded and made a gloomy face.  “Thanks.  I appreciate that.  But I’m not really sure why Candice felt the need to hire you.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’re great at your job, but the person responsible is already in jail.”

“Candice seems to think there might be someone else responsible for your wife’s death.”

Gregory opened the fridge and pulled out a Miller Lite.  “Yep, that’s what she told me, but I think she’s wasting her time.” When he returned to the counter, he sat down and flicked the cap off with his hand.  “Believe me, I get it.  Candice adored her mother.”

“Do you mind if I record our conversation,” I said, indicating the cell phone in my hand.

“Sure, be my guest.” He took a slug of the beer and waited for me to speak again.

“When was the last time you saw your wife?”

“Thursday, April second.  Mel dropped me off at Logan airport around six that morning.  She couldn’t come with me to Saint Martin because she was under a lot of pressure to work on the new book.  The deadline was only weeks away and she hadn’t even completed the first draft.”

“Oh,” I said.  “I thought her books were mostly graphic sex manuals for couples.”

“Her publisher wanted something different this time; an autobiography.  It required a lot more writing and Mel almost declined.  She didn’t really want to write about her personal life, but the deal was too good to pass up.”

That perked my interest.  “Was she planning to share intimate details of your relationship in the book?” I asked.

He shrugged.  “I have no idea.  She never discussed what she planned to write about.”

I thought about Melanie’s abortions and promiscuity.  Would she have included those sordid details in her book?

“How much do you know about Melanie’s past?” I asked.

He gave me a quizzical look.  “What do you mean?”

“Do you know why she became a sex therapist?”

“She wanted to help people, I guess.”

I chuckled at the obviously generic answer.  “Any reason she went into that field in particular?”

He shrugged.  “I suppose there is a reason, but she never told me.”

I had a hard time believing that. 

“How long were you married?” I asked.

“Sixteen years.”

I took a moment to consider that my next question might be too bold.  “Since Melanie was a sex expert, can I assume you two had a good sex life?”

He paused for a brief moment.  Then he smiled.  “In the beginning it was good.  As the years went by, not so much.”

“I apologize,” I said.  “Perhaps that was too personal.”

The smile broadened.  “That’s okay.  To tell you the truth, Melanie became too involved in her work - never had time for fun anymore.”

“Were you having an affair?” I asked.

I expected the question to elicit some kind of emotion, but his face showed nothing.

“Why does it matter at this point?” he asked.

“I guess it doesn’t,” I replied.  “I’m just curious.”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.  “I wasn’t the one who had the affair.  I mean, she never admitted it, but I knew.”

I raised an eyebrow.  “Who was Melanie sleeping with?”

“I never found out.”

“Did you try to find out?”

“Well, I didn’t spy on her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why not get a divorce if you were so unhappy?” I asked.

He sighed.  “Look, Mel and I grew apart years ago.  It happens, right? But every time I brought up the subject of divorce, Mel wouldn’t hear of it.  She was afraid a divorce would sully her reputation as being a relationship expert and sexual guru.  So we had an arrangement.  I promised to stay married as long as she let me do what I wanted.”

“In other words, you were free to date other women?”

“Right.  But I
didn’t
date other women.”

So far, I was surprised at how candidly Gregory had answered all my questions.  He certainly didn’t strike me as a person who could plot his wife’s murder.  But I’d learned my lesson from past experience.  People are never what they seem.

“When did you find out that Melanie was doing marijuana?”

He shrugged.  “Honestly, I had no idea until after she died.  I know it sounds hard to believe, but it’s true.”

“Why did you fall in love with her in the beginning?”

Gregory leaned back in his chair and gazed up to the ceiling like he was recalling a fond memory.  “She was smart and sexy back when we met.  Like a hot secretary, you know? She actually had a sense of humor.” He lowered his gaze to look at me.  His eyes narrowed.  “In the last few years, she became so serious.  She worked too much.  She couldn’t just relax and take a vacation.  We started fighting all the time because she thought I was spending all her money.  Well, what good is having money if you can’t enjoy it? She didn’t know how to enjoy herself anymore and it depressed the hell out of me.  It was as though she tried to make me feel guilty for wanting to be happy.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve moved on,” I said.  “Are you happy now?”

He blinked at me, innocently.  “What are you talking about?”

“I noticed a pair of ladies shoes in the entryway.  I assume they’re not Melanie’s.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond.  Finally he chuckled.  “So what? I have a girlfriend.  It’s not a crime, is it?”

“No, it’s not a crime,” I replied.  “Just an observation.”

Gregory pushed his beer away and sighed impatiently.  “Well, I hope I’ve answered all your questions.  If you don’t mind, I have things to do.”

I stopped the recording, slipped my phone into my purse, and offered him a smile.  “I really appreciate your time, Mr. Frazier.”

Gregory escorted me to the door.  I could feel his warm hospitality slipping away with each step.  “By the way, Ms. Woods, when you see Candice, let her know she still has a bunch of clothes up in her room.  I’d like to get them cleared out as soon as possible.”

“Why don’t you call her yourself?”

“I’d rather not deal with her directly.  We had a big blow-out when she moved out last month.”

“What caused the blow-out?”

“Money, of course.  She thought she was entitled to some of her mother’s book royalties.  I didn’t.  Candice is a spoiled princess.  She got half a million bucks from the life insurance.  What more does she really deserve?”

Gregory was holding the door open for me, and I got the hint.  “Well, thanks again for your time,” I said, passing by him.  “Would it be okay to call you, in case I have more questions?”

I noticed the slightest hint of annoyance in his eyes, but he recovered quickly.  He smiled and shook my hand.  “Sure, Ms Woods.  Go ahead and call me anytime.”

Chapter 6

When I got back to my car, I noticed there was a new message on my phone from Brian.

Hey, mom.  Sorry, but I have classes all day so can’t do lunch.  I can come home tomorrow night 4 dinner.  Let me know, okay? Love you.

It had been months since I’d seen my son, and I was thrilled at the prospect of spending time with him; although I knew I shouldn’t get my hopes up.  He was notorious for cancelling plans.  I called him back and left a message on his voicemail.

Sounds great.  I’ll take you out for pizza.  See you then.  Love you!

Next, I called Candice. 

She seemed very eager to find out about my talk with Gregory so she suggested we meet for lunch at her favorite place in town.

Molly’s turned out to be a quaint, self-serve, deli style restaurant.  I loaded up a tray of turkey sandwiches, potato salad and cups of fresh fruit.  I found a private table near the back and waited for Candice to arrive while nibbling on cantaloupe cubes. 

Ten minutes later she walked into the place and found me.  She looked frazzled.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” She sat across from me and leaned in, elbows resting on the table. 

“No problem.  I was hungry so I got us some lunch.  Help yourself.”

Candice ignored the food and got right down to business.  “Did you record the conversation with Gregory?”

I placed my cell phone on the table.  “He says some things about your mom that might upset you.  So, just be prepared, okay?”

She nodded anxiously.

I started the recording.  During the ten minute conversation, Candice listened intently.

When the recording stopped, Candice stared at me in disbelief. 

“He’s lying.  Mom wasn’t screwing around.  She would’ve told me.”

“I know you two were very close,” I said “but maybe she was embarrassed to tell you.  Maybe she thought you’d think less of her.”

Candice shook her head.  “You don’t understand.  My mom told me everything.”

“Are you sure?” I said, remembering what Shelly said about the abortions and promiscuity.  “If she was having an affair that guy could be another potential suspect.  It’s worth looking into.”

She didn’t seem convinced.  “Okay, you can look into it, but what about Gregory?”

“Oh, I’m not done with Gregory.  I’m just getting started with him.  However, I could use your help with something.”

“Of course.  What do you need?”

“What can you tell me about Gregory? His family, friends, where he grew up, stuff like that.”

“Well, his parents are gone, but he has a brother.  His name’s Ryan and I think he lives in Florida now.  He hasn’t been around in a while.”

“Any other siblings?”

“No.  There’s a cousin from his dad’s side named Jake.  He’s been in Afghanistan for over a year.”

“How about friends?”

“He has some buddies over at the country club he belongs to, but his best friend is a guy he went to college with.  His name is Charlie Cox.”

“Where does he live?”

“Connecticut.  Why?”

I debated whether or not to tell her about my theory, but decided to go ahead.  “If Jasmine didn’t poison the joint, then someone must have shown up at you’re mother’s office after Jasmine left.  It wasn’t Gregory because he was out of the country, but he could have had help from a friend or a family member.  Someone he trusted but, also, someone your mother knew.”

Candice nodded slowly.  “Okay.  So how will you find out?”

“Well, we’ll have to secure alibis for all of Gregory’s friends and family who were in the area on the night your mom died.  I’d also like to go to your mom’s office and have a look around, unless you already cleared the space out.”

“The landlord said I didn’t have to move her things out until the lease expires at the end of this month.  I can give you the key.  The woman who leases the space next to her is Amy Chang.  She and mom were friends.  If she’s around, you should talk to her, too.  She was there that night?”

“She was?”

“Yeah.  When I discovered my mom’s body on the floor, I must have screamed, although I don’t remember doing that.  Amy came over to see what happened.  She was the one who called 911 as I was doing CPR.”

“Okay.  Carter and I will go there first thing tomorrow morning.  Hopefully, we’ll get a chance to talk to Ms. Chang.  I’ll be interested to find out if she remembers anyone coming or leaving the office after Jasmine left and, speaking of Jasmine, I’d like to go to the prison and talk to her.  Any idea when visiting hours are?”

“I think it is twelve to three,” she said.  “Monday through Saturday.”

“Thanks Candice,” I said.  “I should head home and get started looking through your mom’s laptop.  Maybe something interesting will turn up there.”