“Well, that sounds clear enough. This better
not be one of those Sandy Reid tricks. The judge isn’t happy, and
he’s waiting up there. I’m going back up now. You should expect
your client to be re-arrested and returned to jail, and there
she’ll sit for the rest of her life, if I can manage it.”
“Wait, I’ll go up there with you. I’ll
explain to the judge that—.”
“Explain what? As of this minute, your
client’s bond is revoked, an arrest warrant is being prepared, and
your client is a fugitive.”
Sandy and Martin looked at each other and
then slowly walked out of the courthouse. They stopped on the front
steps. She had been walking with her head hanging low. He was
worried about her. “This doesn’t necessarily mean Margo is guilty.
Perhaps jumping bail is the desperate act of an unbalanced woman
who is unjustly accused.”
“She’d be unbalanced whether guilty or
innocent, I understand that, and I’ve been helping her along like a
twelve-year-old child with every step. With no apparent gratitude,
I might add. I had her free on bond for chrissake. So, Shapiro has
the upper hand temporarily, and she goes back to jail while I
decide on my next action.”
“You’re taking it personally. Cheer up,
things could get worse.”
“I tried that this morning. I cheered up and
sure enough, things got worse.”
Once back in the office, she sat at her desk
and stared at the wall. “Where would Margo hide?” she said
eventually.
“John’s condo? Claudia’s place perhaps, they
are sisters-in-law.”
“No and no. Everyone knows her at the condo,
and Claudia hates her.”
“Do you want me to go to her apartment and
look for her?”
“Thanks, Martin, but she wouldn’t come back
with you, regardless of what you said.”
“Well, what are you going to do? I can’t
picture Sandra Reid just sitting around feeling sorry for
herself.”
“I can’t sit around. I’m still excited about
everything that’s going on. Who killed John Larena? What’s the
story on Richie Grant? What is Claudia’s involvement in all
this?”
“Ah, my lawyer friend just morphed back into
the field investigator before my very eyes.”
They shared a chuckle, and then she said,
“All right, let’s get started. What do we know?”
Martin answered, “Richie is dead. Margo has
skipped. You want to know Claudia’s involvement? Don’t forget she
met with Chip the night of the murder. Isn’t that involvement?”
“Yes, but they met for coffee hours before
the murder. So it wasn’t to set up an alibi, unless she intended
for them to be together all night while the murder was taking
place.”
“For God’s sake, Sandy. Don’t get started on
that one.” He moved his chair closer to her desk. “What do we truly
know about her? What does she look like?”
“Beautifully streaked blonde hair piled on
her shoulders, five-foot eight and most of that is legs. Absolutely
irritating. If I wanted to disappear at a party, I’d stand next to
her.”
“Married?”
“No, I tried to picture her in love with
someone, it didn’t work. Every man is just a means to an end for
her. She has enticed her landlord, Billy, into giving her free rent
in return for mere fantasy. She’s a take-charge type. If she were a
hooker, she’d have the pimps working for her.”
“You’re still upset with her. Chip discarded
her, isn’t that enough for you?” He would always take her side,
however she needed to step back and take another look at what was
upsetting her. “Are you and Chip back to normal now?”
“He’s fine with everything. I guess I’m not
sure.” Her mind went back to Claudia bragging she could grab him if
she wanted. “If she had just been an old girlfriend who popped up
with no connection to this case, she’d never have gotten to me as
she did. Now she’s like a pesky song that gets stuck in your head,
and you can’t get rid of it.”
“Look, it could be innocent. He simply agreed
to meet her to be polite, because he’s that kind of guy.”
“And I don’t like it, because I’m that kind
of girl. So shoot me.” She gave him one of her tougher looks so
he’d drop it.
He adjusted his tie, which had never been out
of place in twenty years. “Very well, what else?”
She opened her briefcase, took out a file
folder, and placed it on her desk. “I downloaded a copy of
Claudia’s Florida driver’s license, but the photo doesn’t look much
like her. She owns a fancy beauty spa, therefore she could change
her appearance every hour.” She tapped the folder. “This file has
everything we have on her so far.”
She answered her phone and finished with,
“Yes, sir.” She frowned. “Sorry, Martin. I must go back over to the
courthouse and sign something. I think I’ll take the rest of the
day off, go to my cozy apartment, and hide under the covers. I’ll
start banging on doors tomorrow.”
After she left, he moved over and sat at her
desk. “All right now, what do we know about Claudia Mertens?” He
opened her file and started making notes. Think outside the box,
Sandy always said. He wasn’t certain if he was doing that. Yet,
anything to help her would be worthwhile. In any case, he had the
time to start snooping around on his own. What possible downside
could there be?
M
artin Bronner felt
ridiculously conspicuous as he sat behind the wheel of his shiny
black Lexus parked across the street from The Broadmoor Spa on
Fifteenth Avenue watching for Claudia Mertens, a woman he’d never
seen in person. Now, after observing an array of women enter and
leave the spa, he realized the driver’s license printout stating
she was five foot eight with blonde hair wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t
know her if she ran out of that shop, charged across the street,
and pounded on his window.
By the same reasoning, she had never seen
him, so that part was good; it was unlikely she’d be suspicious of
him sitting there, even if she did notice him staring at the shop’s
front door.
He thought again about why he was watching
for her. He had to admit all the reasons were weak. Isn’t this what
you do when you’ve collected all the public information available;
yet you need to know more about a subject and what the subject is
up to? Isn’t this what jealous spouses do to catch a cheater? He
didn’t expect to follow her and catch her burying a body, but she
might reveal some suspicious activity or tip him off to some
unscrupulous person or place. He had no idea what he’d do if she
did lead him off somewhere suspicious; he’d worry about that when
it happened.
The street was one block over from the main
downtown street, wasn’t busy, and had a few residential apartments
mixed in with small businesses. That meant there were residents who
were familiar with cars that belonged in the neighborhood. He
didn’t blend well into the background sitting there behind
sunglasses in his long black car wearing a dark suit and tie.
Residents would surely wonder what he was doing there so long. He
began to feel conspicuous. He wondered how professional stalkers
handled the situation. After awhile, he took a map from the glove
compartment and pretended to study it. Rather clever, no? Still,
one didn’t occupy oneself for three hours enjoying a map.
Eventually, he had the idea to move over and sit in the passenger
seat as though he was merely waiting for someone. It seemed much
better. If anyone should question him, he was waiting for his wife
to come out of the spa across the street. How clever.
He was getting better at this surveillance
stuff. He removed his suit coat, took off his tie, and rolled up
his sleeves slightly, so he didn’t look on-the-job. He’d bet within
a week he’d have this tailing, shadowing, and staking-out routine
down pat. Move over Sherlock.
It occurred to him that tomorrow he should
leave his big car at home and borrow the gardener’s pickup. He
could wear old clothes to look inconspicuous. He could skip
shaving. Then, in the midst of all the plotting, he realized he was
getting ridiculous; doing all that just wasn’t him; he could never
go that far. Also, none of this thinking answered his immediate
problem of how to recognize Claudia Mertens.
Two other pieces of information were in his
notes: her home address where Sandy had met her, and a description
of her car obtained from the Florida DMV. Drat, why wasn’t he
watching her car? No one walks anymore, especially not evildoers.
Eventually, she had to return to her car. He found his notes. She
had a dark green BMW. He stepped out of his car and looked up and
down the block. She must have parked nearby. Even in back. Of
course, in back.
He drove around the corner and up the narrow
alley trying to identify the rear of the Broadmoor Spa. He spotted
the green BMW with her tag number immediately, parked in one of
only three cramped spaces in the alley. He should have been
watching her car all along, not the front door. Where could he
park? A delivery truck was already honking behind him. He had to
move on. He’d be too noticeable parking in the alley anyway, even
if there was room. Since it was a one-way alley, what he needed was
a place to park without attracting attention, yet where he could
spot the BMW when it left the alley.
Still early afternoon. The BMW might sit
there for hours, and when Claudia left, chances were she’d drive
home. That would be a bore. He was becoming familiar with the
streets around this neighborhood, perhaps he should check out her
home neighborhood, so when the BMW does come out of the alley, he’d
know if she were heading home.
He punched her home address into his GPS, and
in less than fifteen minutes, he was driving down Holly Avenue. He
found the address and pulled to the curb in front. It appeared to
be a large older house converted into apartments. Then remembering
his newly acquired surveillance techniques he moved his car down
the block and walked back to the front entrance.
There were four nameplates near the front
door.
C. Mertens
was 1B. He went back to his car and sat in
the front seat. Where he was parked wouldn’t do at all. Neighbors
would certainly wonder what the black car out there was all about.
He drove away wondering if there was a better place to park and
stake out the apartment. He was pleased to discover an alleyway
running between the rear of the apartments and the buildings
behind. Neighbors had already parked a few cars at random back
there under the heavy overgrowth of oak trees. His gardener’s
pickup could park back there for years with no questions asked;
even his black Lexus might go unnoticed. He surmised that Claudia
also parked her BMW there and used the rear entrance.
He stared at the rear door briefly. Then,
glanced up and down the alley and got out of his car. He found the
rear door unlocked. He wasn’t certain why he wanted to look in, but
isn’t going through unlocked doors what you do, when you’re
snooping around? Certainly wouldn’t hurt to look around, would
it?
He went in, walked halfway down the carpeted
hallway, and noticed 1B on the door of the apartment on the right.
A strange nervousness overtook him; he had seen enough—get out of
there. He heard the floor creak and turned. A short young man with
a shock of red hair was standing behind him.
He immediately wished he had put his coat and
tie back on to complete his lawyer outfit. Apparently, his white
dress shirt and suit pants were intimidating enough for Billy.
“You looking for Miss Mertens?”
He remembered Sandy talking about the young
apartment building owner. He was trying to think of a good cover
story, when Billy saved him, “She’s not home at present. Haven’t
seen you around. She expecting you?”
“I’m handling some affairs which might
involve her.”
“About her brother being killed, I guess. She
was really shocked. Said she’d be moving into his condominium soon.
Funny how something good like that comes out of something terrible.
This is a quiet old neighborhood, but over there she gets a nice
place with a pool and all. Not good for me though. Pretty woman.
Don’t want to think about her not being just across the hall, where
I can look in on her from time to time.”
“You handle the maintenance and landlord
stuff, huh?”
“She calls me when she needs me.”
“You sound like a very friendly landlord.
I’ll bet she appreciates you.”
“Seems to.”
“Has Richie been around lately?” Wouldn’t
hurt to ask that even though Martin knew Richie wasn’t going to get
around much anymore.
“You’re asking a lot of questions, and I
think I’ve said enough. You better leave now.” Then as a second
thought, “Unless you’re looking for an apartment, of course.”
Martin apologized for the interruption and
excused himself. He walked out the back to his car and sat there
wondering where to go next. Then he saw Billy come out and drive
off in an SUV. What now? All this snooping around wasn’t getting
anywhere. While he was sitting here, Claudia might have left the
spa and gone who knows where.
Just then, he heard a soft tap on his
window.
At first, he didn’t see the woman there with
her shopping cart. He lowered the window and considered her. She
was on the threshold of old age, slender but didn’t look
particularly frail. Once upon a time, she’d been attractive. Now,
she needed some serious attention to her appearance. She’d let
herself go, as they say. No money for the extras that can put a
shine on your personality would be his guess.
“Would you help me inside with a couple of
things?” She gestured toward the apartment building.
He looked at the shopping cart, obviously
taken from a nearby supermarket, with two loaded plastic bags. He
had never thought much about how else the disadvantaged managed to
walk blocks burdened with necessities.
They exchanged smiles. He got out and
gathered up the bags.