| |
––––––––
OFFICER JEFF COMBS stood in the back of the elevator, Detectives Doty and Gonzales poised to rush ahead. They hadn’t wanted to include Combs in this go-see with Doug Childress.
Doty changed her mind once he shared the phone call information from radio host Humphrey Fish. She had known if she shut him out completely, he’d do his own investigation, and admitted she’d do the same thing in his place. But Doty couldn’t risk muddy waters, so he had to walk a fine line. Until they got word from upstairs, he’d keep sniffing around. And if the brass tried to sideline him, he’d take a leave of absence or quit to stay in the game.
“We do all the talking.” She popped her gum. “Don’t take advantage. You’re not yet officially on a leave of absence, and not a part of the investigation. This is a one-time favor out of respect for your loss. Don’t make me sorry I cut you some slack.”
Combs nodded. “You’re generous to a fault.”
Gonzales smiled and quickly covered it with a cough.
The elevator opened before Doty could retort. She checked both directions, and marched to the man standing in the open apartment door. “I’m looking for Doug Childress. That you?”
Childress pocketed his cell phone. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m Detective Kimberlane Doty. This is my partner, Detective Winston Gonzales.” She didn’t bother to introduce Combs, but the slight didn’t matter to him. He was here, that was enough.
Doty showed her badge when Gonzales approached and presented his own credentials. “We’re investigating a homicide. Let’s go inside, we have some questions for you.” She didn’t wait for permission, simply elbowed past Childress to the center of his living room, and Gonzales followed.
Childress didn’t object. But he grabbed the door as if to counter the verbal punch. The word “homicide” had that effect on most people.
Doty counted on that reaction. She hadn’t changed her brash approach; she still bulldozed her way through the job. Combs preferred a more subtle approach, and wondered how Gonzales liked the partnership. Combs waited for Childress to go ahead, following him silently into the room and shutting the door.
Doty took the lead. “We’re looking for your wife, April Childress.”
“Ex-wife.” Childress approached the desk, tapped the keyboard of the open laptop, and closed the cover.
Doty bared her teeth in what passed for a smile. “Ex-wife, right. Do you happen to know where we can find her?”
Childress folded his arms. “April should be home. Or at work. What’s she got to do with a homicide?”
“Have a seat, Mr. Childress.” Doty waited until the man perched on the edge of an overstuffed leather chair. She sat opposite him on a matched settee.
Childress leaned back and crossed his legs in a calculated effort to appear calm. But his foot bounced until he grabbed his ankle to stop it.
Gonzales ran a finger across the spotless glass top table in front of Childress as though checking for dust. “Nice furniture. You have maid service? My wife would kill for something like this.”
Combs smiled his approval. Childress was a detail man. The furniture gleamed, the pricy rugs shone jewel-bright. Even the desk’s clutter looked organized. Childress was careful, and that would color his answers.
Doty aimed a “give me a break” look at Gonzales that would have wounded a lesser man, and then shined a high-wattage smile at Childress. “Where can we find your ex-wife?” She emphasized the “ex.” “Do you have her cell number?”
Typical Doty. She rabbited through work with little regard for careful reflection. She concentrated on the big picture and missed details that mattered. For instance, why had Childress shut down his computer? Perhaps he had something to hide.
“She changed her cell number, it’s unlisted now. She didn’t want me to have it.” Childress wrinkled his nose as though to a bad smell. “What’s all this about? I have real work to do, as I’m sure you do as well, so if we can speed this up . . .”
Her smile slipped. “Steven’s babysitter got shot in April’s house. We want to talk to April. So we’re asking.”
“Oh my god, the babysitter?” Childress bounded to his feet. “What about my son? Is Steven all right?”
“We have no reason to believe Steven’s in any danger. Do you think he’d be with your wife?” Doty’s expression conveyed skepticism despite the earnest tone.
“What happened?” His hands clenched as he went toe-to-toe with Doty, but she didn’t flinch.
Gonzales urged him back to the chair. “Sit down, Mr. Childress, you’re understandably upset. But we’re doing everything we can to find your son and ex-wife. We need your help.”
Childress fell into the seat, stiff and unyielding. “I don’t know where April is. How could she let something like this happen? She’s changed.” He paused. “Do you have kids? It changes things.”
“Yep, I’ve got an eight-year-old boy and twin girls, who are four,” said Gonzales.
Combs stepped forward. “You’re right. Kids change everything.” Find common ground with the man to build empathy and they’d make headway more quickly.
“I lost my wife the day Steven was born.” His mournful tone seemed out of character with the earlier bluster. “You think I’m a monster, but that’s the truth.”
“Why is that?” Gonzales leaned forward, sympathetic. Damn, he was good.
“I love my son. I really do. I wanted that little boy more than life itself. But April and I argued all the time about the way he is damaged, and how to deal with his . . . issues. I still take care of him, I’m still his father.” He took a shuddering breath. “You’ve got to find him.”
“The way he is? You mean autistic?” Combs fell silent when Doty raised her eyebrows, reminding him of their deal. But he couldn’t help thinking of his own kids, and his throat tightened. Melinda at twelve was a chubby miniature of her redheaded mother with a temper to match. Sensitive William, so much like his murdered grandmother, acted like he was nine going on forty. If either of his kids had been “damaged” like Steven, he couldn’t imagine loving them any less.
Doty made a note, and looked over at Gonzales. “Pike’s grandson is autistic. That’s tough to deal with.”
Childress picked a spot of lint off his trousers, adjusted his tie and squared his shoulders, the actions clearly designed to regain control. “Nothing like that in my family. It’s her family’s crazy DNA or something that scrambled Steven’s brains.” He stopped. “That’s not what I mean...that sounds harsh. I don’t know what I’m saying. April’s a good mother. She’d do anything for Steven. Hell, so would I.” He hunched forward in the chair. “Is that how the babysitter got killed? Did she step over the line with my son? April turns into a barracuda about Steven. As long as he’s with his mother, he’ll be fine.” The last sentence served to convince him as much as them.
Dotty gave a slight head shake in Combs’s direction. He gritted his teeth instead of smacking Childress, and waited for her answer for the team. “We aren’t sure what happened. April’s car is still at the house.”
“The PT Cruiser? I got that for Steven. He loves yellow.” He rubbed his temples. “She didn’t take her car?”
Doty pressed for answers. “Mr. Childress, is there somebody April would call, somewhere she’d go for help? She may not have even been home at the time.”
Childress started, and leaned forward. “You mean Steven might not be with her?” He blanched, suddenly matching the tapioca color of his sweater.
Gonzales held out his hands palms up in a “who knows?” gesture.
“I need a drink.” Childress jumped to his feet again, and hurried to the kitchen, opened a cabinet, grabbed a bottle of scotch, and poured. He emptied the glass in two swallows. Without pause, he poured again and this time cradled the glass like a toddler with a binky. “Want some? It’s early, but what the hell.”
Doty’s sour expression declined for all of them.
“You think someone kidnapped Steven? Was there a ransom note or something? Is that what this is about?” He drank again, and topped off the glass. “I mean, I do okay and I’ve got some investments. Maybe a hundred thousand liquid, but the rest is tied up. What are you doing to find my son?” Childress returned to the living area and settled on the arm of the chair.
“What about April? Does she have the finances?”
Childress laughed a high pitched nervous sound. “Hardly. I pay child support, and she got the house in the settlement. She has her own business, an exercise place. Can you believe it?” He rolled his eyes. “Just what I want my wife doing, dressing up in spandex and prancing in front of a bunch of fat old women. She opened the place after we split.” He sipped again and some of the drink sloshed onto his knee, though he didn’t seem to notice or care. “I’d never have allowed it.”
So he’s a control freak, wants a perfect wife and kid, and gets pissy when real life throws curves. “What’s the name and address of the business?” To hell with hanging back, they needed to get moving on this. Doty said nothing, giving tacit approval.
“Body Works. Don’t know the address, but it’s somewhere near here. I never visited even though I’m told it’s a nice location, I’ll give her that. I’ve got the phone saved, that one’s listed.” He pulled out his cell phone, played with the buttons, and gave them the number.
Gonzales’s mustache twitched as he jotted down the information. “We need to contact the phone company, get the records of calls to and from her number. If April’s on the run, she may contact family or friends.”
“September. That’s what she meant.” Childress whirled to confront the detectives. “April’s sister September, they’re tight.”
“You think they might be together?” Doty made another note. “Where do I find September? What’s her last name?”
Combs answered for Childress. “September Day. I saw her this morning. She’s renovated the old Ulrich place, that historic brick monstrosity at the top of the hill on Rabbit Run Road. The renovations had to set her back a bundle.”
Gonzales frowned. “You know her?”
He shook his head. “We’d just handled a fender bender this morning, and Pike noticed smoke at her house. Turned out to be nothing. But September got rid of us fast, said she had a busy day.”
“You got to be kidding me.” Doty gnawed her pencil, sighed and made the note. “September and April. Last name January?”
“You don’t understand. She was just here looking for April.” Childress rolled the cold glass against his forehead. “She promised me Steven was okay.”
“Wait. She was here?” Doty’s face turned red.
Ice clinked in the glass when he nodded. “She saw you out the front window and begged me to stay quiet, that it would help April. Crazy stuff.”
Combs stalked toward the man. “She asked you to stall the police? And you agreed to obstruct a police investigation?”
Childress flinched. “I didn’t know there was any investigation. She promised me Steven was okay, but said April was in trouble. She looked like she’d been in fight.”
Doty hurried to the door. “Officer Combs, stay here with Detective Gonzales. Finish up with anything we’ve not covered.” Her jaw tightened. “Which way did September...Day, is it? Which way did she go?”
Childress scooted to sit on the edge of the chair when Combs backed away. “You were coming up the elevator so she took the stairwell down. Leads to the back exit.” He stood, wobbling before he caught his balance with a hand on the chair. “She must be parked back there if you didn’t see her out front.”
Glaring at him, Doty rushed out the door.
“You’ll find Steven, right?” Childress finally noticed the stain on his trousers. “I need to change.” He started toward the hallway and paused to check the time again.
Gonzales followed and reached up to pat Childress on the back. “Have a seat. We’re not finished.”
“What? I told you everything. You should be out finding Steven.” Childress returned to the armchair and this time sank into it like a deflated balloon. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to relax, take a breath, and tell us everything September said.” Gonzales didn’t say a word when Combs joined him.
Childress pulled at his tie as he gathered his thoughts. “She was looking for somebody, some weird name. And wanted to know if I had Steven.” He focused on Combs. “Do you think that was just to throw me off, to confuse things?”
“Steven wasn’t with her?” Combs watched as Gonzales took notes.
“Of course not.” His tone was clipped, angry at the notion. “Like I already told you. She wanted a head start, didn’t want to get caught up with your questions. Said it would help April and maybe Steven, too.”
Doty burst into the room. “There’s another body. I called for backup.”
Childress sucked in a breath. “Steven?”
“There’s a car by the dumpster, a body inside.” She advanced on Childress, and he shrank backwards into the chair until it nearly swallowed him. “What the hell is your family involved in? That makes two in one day.”
“Where’s my son?” Childress’s jaw worked as his fingers clawed the soft arms of the chair.
Doty took pity. “Victim’s an adult male.”
A relieved sob hiccupped in his throat.
“I didn’t want to disturb things until we got the CSIs here. Boot prints in the snow all around, small ones, like at April’s house.” Doty whistled through the gap in her front teeth. “Gonzales, go downstairs and secure the scene until the coroner gets here.” She turned to Combs, clearly pissed. “Okay, you’re part of the team at least until the brass says otherwise. Plenty for everyone to do.”
He nodded, and turned to Childress. “What car does September drive?”
“How should I know? Call the DMV.”
Doty narrowed her eyes but kept her temper for once. “We need your help, Mr. Childress. To find Steven. Work with us. Can you tell us what September was wearing? What kind of shoes, for instance?”
Childress sniffed, cocked his head to one side and smoothed the soft fabric of his sweater. “That’s something I still love about April. She always dresses like a model. September is a frump. I notice fashion.”
“So?” Combs gave props to Doty for her patience. His own was at an end.
“September wore sweat pants, a stocking cap, and some shapeless overstuffed coat. Oh, and dingy little snow boots, no heels, just flat rubber treads.” He pointed to the entry. “She tracked in snow, so I noticed.”
Doty smiled. “That’s a match. Betcha the prints around the body are September’s.”
