With yesterday’s protest over and the traffic along with it, Sarg picked Drayco up on the dot of nine in Sarg’s newly waxed Range Rover, giving Drayco time to fill him in on an earlier call from Benny. “Jerold Zamorra’s brother, Edwin, has a beef with his brother’s former employer. Filed a lawsuit requesting an injunction to prevent the TSA from touching private areas without reasonable suspicion.”
Sarg zigzagged around some construction cones, cursing under his breath as they almost got sideswiped by a truck. “Think I could get in on that lawsuit of his and make it a class action dealie?”
“You and millions of other people. Jerold’s daughter Ashley wasn’t listed as a party, so that’s not the reason behind her estrangement.”
Sarg grunted. “What a lovely litigious triangle, those Zamorras. Rena against Jerold while they worked at the TSA, Edwin against the TSA.”
They pulled up to a typical middle-class Alexandria home, meaning somewhere between half a million and a million dollars. That chunk of change bought Edwin fifteen hundred square feet of a half-brick, half-vinyl-siding colonial with a postage stamp yard. The interior was a bachelor-chic mix of varying hues of beige and brown.
It was the mantel that drew Drayco’s attention. It wasn’t every day he saw a witch doctor’s mask made of wood, bone, and feathers. Hanging next to it was an antique apothecary box sporting vintage bottles bearing names like Foley’s Kidney Pills.
Ashley Zamorra and Edwin Zamorra greeted them with identical frowns. When Drayco arranged the meeting, he’d said he was acting on “behalf” of law enforcement to uncover the truth behind Jerold’s murder. Well, he was a crime consultant, and Sarg’s FBI creds were impeccable. As far as Halabi was concerned, ask questions now and apologize later.
In addition to her frown, Ashley wore a tricolor headband of silver, copper, and gold crowning her shoulder-length dark hair. Her metal hoop earrings contained symbols he couldn’t identify without staring, and he didn’t want to make her feel anymore ill at ease than she already was. The sprinkle of freckles across her nose made her look even younger than her thirty years, especially combined with red lipstick the same color little girls use when playing dress-up.
Edwin, on the other hand, looked every bit his age. His close-cropped gray beard formed a ring under his chin like a soap-bubble beard, forming a point at the end. He was vaping away on an e-cigarette that smelled a little like green apples.
Neither of the Zamorras offered Drayco or Sarg a drink or a seat. Sarg took the latter, but Drayco stood to make it easier to prowl around the room. He spied a framed photo of Ashley standing with her arm around a woman who shared Ashley’s high cheekbones and rail-thin frame. He picked it up and looked at Ashley. “Is this Ophelia, your mother?”
She nodded. “My father killed her a year ago.”
She ignored Edwin’s attempt to interrupt, adding, “The police don’t say that. They arrested two teenage boys. My father was having an affair, and I guess he just got tired of Mom. Murdered her to be with his mistress.”
“Do you know the identity of the woman he was having an affair with?”
“That woman they arrested, probably. I’ll bet she’s his mistress and killed him when he cheated on her, too.”
What could Drayco say? It might well be true. “Your parents were divorced for a year before your mother was murdered. Why would your father wait until then to kill her?”
Ashley grabbed a pillow from the couch and hugged it so tightly, Drayco was surprised the stuffing didn’t explode. “To get his hands on her money. She’d made a lot from her decorating business. And she had life insurance. After my parents divorced, she kept putting off changing her Will. Made us both beneficiaries, three-quarters to my father, one to me.”
“How much did three-quarters amount to?”
“Several hundred thousand. My father squandered it away on bad investments. Lost almost everything.”
Ashley blinked back tears as Edwin patted her on the shoulder. “I miss my mother every day. And I regret all the times we argued because we both had a temper.”
She choked out a laugh. “Mom kept cheap dishes around for times she felt like exploding. She’d throw them at the back fence, her version of skeet shooting. I adored her.”
Drayco studied the smiling woman in the picture frame. Unlike Maura McCune, this woman had years of emotions etched into her face, mostly crinkled laugh lines around her eyes. But those eyes—they didn’t match her smile. It was as if someone copied and pasted the eyes and mouths from two different women.
He replaced the photo in its original spot. Other frames nearby held additional pictures of Ashley and her mother, including a couple of Edwin with one or both women. None with the victim, Ashley’s father, Jerold.
Edwin coughed, then cleared his throat. “The police showed me a photo of that woman they arrested. I saw her with my brother once before. Knew she was trouble then. You can always tell with the Jezebels. Not like Ophelia, whose only fault was she was a clutter-bug.”
Drayco asked, “Where did you see Maura—that is, the suspect—and your brother together? And when was this?”
“Three weeks, a month, I’d say. I stopped by his apartment as they were leaving and just missed them. But I saw them drive off together.”
“Was that the only time?”
Edwin pursed his lips, releasing a little vapor cloud. “I think so. At least, that’s what I told the police.”
“You didn’t see them together before Ophelia’s death?”
“I’m not sure why that would matter, but no.”
Sarg piped up from the couch. “What about Ophelia’s other family members, Miss Zamorra? They also believe Jerold killed her?”
Ashley replied, “My grandparents are dead. One passed away before Mom, the other died right after, of a heart attack. Mom was an only child.”
Drayco moved to a spot with a direct sight line to both Zamorras. “And your father’s family, other than your Uncle Edwin here?”
“I’m not close to my dad’s parents anymore. Uncle Edwin’s spoken with them, but I’m not sure I want them at the funeral. Of course, they believe he didn’t do it, didn’t kill my Mom.”
Sarg glanced from one Zamorra to the other. “When was the last time either one of you saw Jerold?”
Edwin answered first. “Two weeks. He seemed fine.”
Ashley added, “I dropped off a box of stuff at Dad’s condo. The last of the items he had at Mom’s place. She left the house to me, thank God.”
Drayco asked, “When did you drop off that box?”
She hesitated. “The day he died. If you think it’s related to his murder, I don’t see how. Old notebooks, ledgers of some kind. And a few odds and ends. I gave the police a list. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you.”
Sarg turned to Edwin. “The lawsuit you filed against the TSA. What’d your brother think about that, sir? Can’t imagine he was ready to dance a jig.”
Edwin straightened up. “It had nothing to do with Jerold. He didn’t make the policy.”
“Surely it could drive a wedge between you.”
“We didn’t always see eye to eye, but my brother was a good man. I regret our falling out.”
“Do you work for the government too, sir?”
“I own an independent compounding pharmacy. More control, less red tape. Hate corporate bureaucratic idiocy, bean counters always looking over your shoulder.” Edwin checked his watch. “I took a quick break to meet you and Ashley here, but I need to get back. Saturday’s one of my busiest days.”
“We understand, sir. Do you mind if we take a look at Jerold’s condo? We have full police approval.”
Edwin rubbed his forehead. “If you think it’s necessary.”
“Just trying to make sure the right person goes to jail for your brother’s murder, that’s all.”
“I suppose it would be okay. Do you have a key?”
“We were hoping you do, sir.”
Edwin disappeared into a side room, then returned and handed Sarg a key. “Very good, sir, much appreciated.”
Drayco handed both Ashley and Edwin one of his cards. “In case you think of something else. Anything at all.”
Back at the Range Rover, Sarg rubbed a tiny smudge off the finish. “Hate to say it. All that business about Jerold having an affair with your mother seems to be a godsend for the prosecution.”
“I admit I don’t know my mother, but when she talked about Jerold, she didn’t exhibit the air of a woman in love who killed in a crime of passion. If she’s guilty, it was some other reason.”
Drayco slid into the passenger seat. “Did you notice all the photos of Ophelia and Ashley? One of the Ophelia photos seemed to be taken a long time ago. She was much younger, and there wasn’t a ring on her finger. She and Edwin were standing unusually close to each other.”
“You’re thinking the other man, instead of the other woman?”
“Possibly. And Edwin did have a key to the condo, despite being ‘estranged.’ Motive and opportunity.”
“I hate love triangles.” Sarg poked his head through the driver’s side door. “Where to next? I got a couple hours before my weekend yes-dear chores suck me back in.”
“Sucking is a pretty good term for it. We get to meet Jerold Zamorra’s former TSA colleague, the one who accused him of sexual harassment. She said the only time she had available in her busy schedule was at polo practice.”
Sarg sighed. “I love the smell of horse shit in the morning.”
“By the way, since when do we have full police approval to go through Jerold’s condo?”
“After I talk with them, we will. Provided they’ve released the crime scene.”
Drayco grinned. “Good. I was thinking of breaking and entering, myself.”
Sarg narrowed his eyes. “You are kidding, right?”
“Let’s hope that wax job of yours keeps the shit off the Range Rover.”
Sarg groused, “If there’s so much as one speck, I’m handing you a bucket and sponge, junior.”