Ron Base - Tree Callister 03 - Another Sanibel Sunset Detective (19 page)

“Now that’s a woman.”

Tree turned to find Melon with a silly grin on his face. He might have argued the point, but what was the use? That perception had served Elizabeth well all her life and perhaps even allowed her to get away with murder.

28

Edith Goldman got hold of Tree a couple of minutes after he crossed the bridge onto San Carlos Boulevard.

“The police have arrested Chris,” she said.

“Where did they find him?”

“Apparently he was coming to work at the Holiday Inn. I happened to phone Cee Jay Boone to check out the lay of the land. They were just bringing him in. Cee Jay says they’ve got new evidence supplied by a St. Louis police detective.”

“That’s Chris’s sister-in-law—Kendra’s sister,” Tree said.

“You’re kidding,” Edith said. “How long have you known this?”

“I just found out myself. Where are you now?”

“I’m over here at police headquarters.”

“Have they charged him?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’m just coming out of Fort Myers Beach on San Carlos Boulevard. Depending on the traffic, I should be there in twenty minutes.”

It took him over half an hour with the traffic coming onto Sanibel and then more traffic backed up along Periwinkle. He finally got off onto Dunlop Road and into the city hall complex that housed police headquarters. Edith Goldman waited in the main reception area. In the sort of dark business suit seldom seen on the island, gripping a Blackberry as though it were a life raft, Edith looked sleek and professional, the sort of person you want at the jail when they are holding your son. “I was just about to call you,” she said.

“What’s happening?” Tree demanded.

“They’ve just charged Chris with the first degree murder of his wife.”

“Oh, God,” Tree said.

Edith said, “It’s all right. We’re going to take care of this.”

Cee Jay Boone, looking rumpled and tired, chose that moment to appear, a tote bag slung over her shoulder, car keys in hand. Tree intercepted her. “I want to see my son,” he said.

Cee Jay gave him a dead-eyed look. “I can’t let you do that, Tree.”

“Yes, you can,” Tree said. He saw Edith out of the corner of his eye. She did not look happy. “You can do this for me, Cee Jay.”

“I don’t have to do anything for you,” she said.

“Do this,” he said. “Please.”

She looked at him angrily. “Careful, Tree. There are a lot of people here who would love to see you in a cell right next to Chris.”

He met her gaze. The anger did not go out of her face. “Five minutes,” she said. “That’s it.”

Without another word Cee Jay led him down a short hallway and opened a door into the same interrogation room Tree previously had occupied—the father and son suite at police headquarters. Chris, haggard and hollow-eyed, sat with his hands handcuffed together, head lowered, as if in prayer. His son in handcuffs, Tree thought. The end game for the number of ways he had screwed up with him over the years.

When Chris raised his head, Tree saw the tears in his son’s eyes. “They’re saying I murdered Kendra, Dad. They’re saying I killed her.”

“I know,” Tree said. “I got here as soon as I could.”

“I didn’t kill her. Tell them that. Tell them I didn’t kill her.”

“We’re going to get you out of this, Chris. I promise you. Whatever it takes, we’ll do it. We’ll get you out of this.”

“You know I didn’t do it, don’t you, Dad? You know I couldn’t hurt her, no matter what happened. You know that.”

Momentarily, Tree wondered if Chris wasn’t melodramatically playing to the video camera that almost certainly was recording the scene. He dismissed the thought and said, “Yes.” But did he? Of course he did. His son was innocent. Concentrate on that. His son was innocent.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Tree continued. “Have you had a chance to talk to Edith?”

The question made Chris pull himself together. He sat up straighter, taking a deep breath. “Briefly,” he said. “I’m going to be arraigned tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there,” Tree said. “As long as this takes, no matter what, I’ll be there for you.”

Chris looked suddenly anxious. “Have you heard from Cailie?”

“Cailie?” Tree said in a tone that suggested she was the last person he expected to hear from. “You know about her? You know who she is.”

“I know what they’re telling me.” Chris sounded more weary than surprised.

“You had no idea she was Kendra’s sister?”

“They didn’t get along. Cailie was critical of what Kendra was doing—or wasn’t doing. The two of them had stopped talking. You know we got married in Las Vegas, just the two of us. No families. I don’t think I ever saw a photo of Cailie. They say I confessed everything—whatever everything is—to Cailie. That’s so crazy.”

“Do you need anything?” Tree asked. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Chris leaned forward, his face taking on an intensity Tree had not seen before. “Please, Dad, contact Cailie. Tell her I understand what’s going on, I do. It makes no difference. We can get past this. Tell her that, please. I don’t hold any of this against her.”

Tree stopped himself from blurting, “You’ve got to be kidding”—perhaps because he had enough self-awareness to recognize that his son was not the only male in the family who fell victim to beautiful, lying, coldly manipulative women.

Instead, he said, “Do you know where she’s staying?”

“She’s rented a condo over at Sea Bell Road by Blind Pass. Talk to her, Dad. Make her understand that I still love her.”

“Do you think that’s the best thing right now?” Tree said, choosing his words carefully. He felt as though he was crossing a minefield every time he opened his mouth in front of Chris.

“It’s the only thing,” Chris said vehemently. “It’s all that counts.”

29

It was dark by the time Tree turned into the condominium complex where Chris said Cailie was staying on Sea Bell Road. He parked the Beetle feeling tired and depressed, wondering what he was going to say to her. “My son still loves you even though you’ve just had him arrested for murdering your sister?”

That didn’t sound quite right.

A black Ford Fusion shot into view and slammed to a stop. Sanibel Island Detective Owen Markfield opened the driver’s side door and jumped out.

“What do you think you’re doing, Callister,” he said. Markfield looked smart in a navy blue Polo shirt that hugged his slim torso.

Caught by surprise, all Tree could say was, “Detective Markfield.”

“Answer me,” Markfield ordered. “What are you doing here?”

The muscles rippled beneath his Polo shirt. He looked ready for a fight.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Tree said.

“If you’re here to harass Ms. Dean then it is my business—it’s police business. Now tell me what you’re doing here, otherwise I’d be happy to talk about this at police headquarters.”

“I want a word with Cailie.”

“She’s under police protection,” Markfield said. “You’re not going anywhere near her.”

“It’s all right, Owen,” Cailie said. She had come out of the passenger side of the Ford, dressed head to foot in black, her hair pulled into a bun, accentuating the lines of her clear, lovely face.

“You don’t have to deal with this jerk,” Markfield said.

Cailie did not take her eyes off Tree when she said, “Owen, why don’t you wait for me at the apartment?”

Markfield appeared to have difficulty getting his head around the idea. He nodded slowly. “Any trouble Cailie, you just call out. Hear?”

“Park in front,” Cailie said. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Markfield gave Tree a dark look before swaggering back to the Ford Fusion. He climbed inside and drove away.

Tree stared at Cailie. “Don’t tell me, you and Markfield—”

“Just two police officers bonding together over a particularly difficult case.” She smiled. “Are you jealous, Tree?”

“I think the word is amazed,” he said.

“Owen believes I need protection.”

“But we know better, don’t we, Cailie?”

“In Owen’s immortal words, what are you doing here?”

“I know who you are,” Tree said.

“Good. That makes things easier. What amazes me is why it took you so long to figure it out.”

“Well, it’s as you said, maybe I need another Sanibel Sunset detective to help me with these things.”

“I’m afraid I’m no longer available,” Cailie said.

“No, I guess not.”

“Despite myself, I kind of like you, Tree. I started out hating you because as far as I could see, you had protected Chris, helped him lie to the police about my sister. Kendra and I never got along. All our lives we were very different people. I despised what she became, but she didn’t deserve to die. She was my sister, and she was dead and I was sitting there in St. Louis not doing a thing about it.”

“So you decided to do something,” Tree said.

“I was angry. I wanted to destroy you, and your wife, too.”

“So you arrived on Sanibel, found out where Chris was working, checked into the hotel and arranged to meet him.”

“That part was easy enough,” Cailie said. “Chris was very anxious to forget about his poor dead wife, and tell me all about his father, and the trip to Paris he was going to take with his wife Freddie, how much he liked the Closerie des Lilas and kir royale.”

“Chris loved Kendra, he wouldn’t hurt her,” Tree said.

“I might even have believed you. As difficult as I made things for you, I might have believed you in the end—until Chris started talking too much.”

“He convinced you that he killed his wife?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“I don’t believe it,” Tree said.

“That’s understandable. The point is, the police and the district attorney, do.”

Tree gritted his teeth. “I came over here because Chris wanted me to talk to you.”

She said nothing, and in the darkness it was hard to see if there was any reaction.

“He believes the two of you can get past this.”

He expected a derisive laugh, but all she said was, “We probably can—as soon as he spends the rest of his life in prison.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Tree said.

“There is a confession—recorded.”

“A confession from Chris?”

“I’ve already said too much.”

Tree said. “As long as there is breath in me, I’m going to fight to make sure he doesn’t go to prison.”

She shook her head. “Then I don’t have anything to worry about, do I? At the rate you’re going, there’s not going to be any breath in you for much longer.”

30

When Tree finished telling Freddie about Cailie Dean, she said, “I suppose that explains why she was in Paris and then in Key West coming on to you.”

“It doesn’t really explain much of anything,” Tree said. “She does things to destroy our marriage and then she saves my life. Right now, none of it makes any difference. What matters is that she could put Chris in jail for life.”

Freddie put her hand gently on Tree’s knee. “You are not going to want to hear this. But you may have to deal with the fact that Chris did say something incriminating to her—and she did record it.”

“I was there, and I know he didn’t kill his wife,” Tree said.

“You were there, and you covered up for your son and arranged things so that it looked as though you might be the killer. I wonder if that’s blinded you to what may have actually happened.”

“No,” he said angrily.

She leaned back, removing her hand from his knee. “I hope for Chris’s sake you’re right.”

They stood at the same time, and he wrapped his arms around her. She nestled against him. “Oh, Tree,” she said. “Oh, Tree.”

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

She pulled away from him. “It’s probably a lousy time to bring this up.”

“What is it?”

“They want me to fly to New York in a week or so and meet with some investment bankers and some of their SMEs.”

“Their what?”

“Subject matter experts.”

“What are they?”

“In this case, specialists in putting a deal like this together and stick-handling it through the banks.

“I thought your investors had the money.”

“No one
has
anything, as such. What they have is the ability to raise money. At some point everyone has to go to the bank. We are at that point.”

“Of course,” Tree said. “Do what you have to do.”

“I don’t like the idea of leaving you right now,” Freddie said.

“I’ll be all right,” Tree said.

Lying through his teeth.

________

Tree’s eyes shot open.

He found himself staring at the ceiling, wide awake. He could hear Freddie’s gentle breathing beside him in the darkness.