Spring Break. Charlotte Douglas

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      Stella shook her head. “Carlton’s in Tallahassee. He won’t be home until late tonight.”

      “Was he here for the weekend?”

      “No, he stayed at the Capitol for a fund-raiser last night. Now he’s taking care of loose ends at his office before coming home for the spring recess. Is there something I can help you with?”

      I reached into my pocket and withdrew the photo of Deirdre Fisk. “Have you ever seen this young woman?”

      I gave Stella the picture. She glanced at it, and a brief flicker that could have been no more than interest rippled across her angular features. But her facial expression was bland again when she handed the photo back.

      “I’ve never seen her,” she said in a disinterested tone.

      “May I see?” Sidney asked.

      His mother seemed annoyed when I passed him the photo. He looked, but returned it without comment.

      “Ms. Fisk didn’t come here looking for the senator last night?”

      Stella stiffened. “What are you implying?”

      “I’m not implying anything. Just trying to help the Clearwater Police establish a time line on this woman’s whereabouts.”

      “What makes you think she’d come here?” Sidney asked.

      “She had a newspaper clipping in her purse with a picture that included the senator. We think she might have been trying to contact the men in the photograph.”

      Sidney frowned. “Why?”

      “She may have known one of them when she was a child,” I hedged. No need to bother Stella further. I’d double-check Carlton’s alibi, but, if he was in Tallahassee last night as his wife claimed, he couldn’t have killed Deirdre Fisk.

      Madison appeared with a silver tea service, but I’d learned all I needed to know. I pushed to my feet. “I won’t take any more of your time. Thanks, Mrs. Branigan. Nice to meet you, Sidney.”

      Sidney smiled somewhat distractedly. Judging from the impatience in his body language, I figured he was in a hurry to discuss something with his mother.

      “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more,” Stella said. “Madison, please show Ms. Skerritt out.”

      I followed the butler to the front door, then stopped and took out the photo of Deirdre. “Has this woman been here lately?”

      Madison gazed at the picture and shook his head. “Mrs. Branigan only recently returned from Tallahassee.”

      “When exactly was that?”

      “I am not allowed to talk about my employers, a condition in my contract.”

      “Thanks.” For nothing.

      He shut the massive wooden door behind me, and I walked to my car.

      The Clearwater Police Department was only minutes away. I arrived to find Adler working late. He was at his desk in CID and eating a foot-long steak-and-onion hoagey. Rarely had I seen Adler when he wasn’t eating, but where he packed the calories on his lean, muscular body was a secret many would kill for.

      “Branigan’s wife claims he was at a fund-raiser in Tallahassee last night,” I said.

      Adler wiped grease from his fingers and turned to his keyboard. With a few strokes, he accessed the Internet and pulled up a Tallahassee newspaper Web site. A few more keystrokes, and a news photo of Branigan and the governor, taken at Monday night’s party, appeared on his monitor.

      “The wife’s story checks out,” he said. “You talked to Edward Raleigh yet?”

      “Next stop,” I said. “What have you got?”

      “According to this photo with Branigan, the governor was in Tallahassee Monday night, too. But I did some digging before you got here, and your Tampa murders occurred during his first run for office.”

      “The one he didn’t win?”

      “Right. But his publicity people released an itinerary for his appearances during that time. It’s in the archives on his campaign Web site. I cross-checked it with the dates of the original murders, and the governor was either in South Florida or the Panhandle when all three murders—and the attempt on young Deirdre Fisk—occurred.”

      I nodded. “He was never high on the suspect list and eliminating him narrows our field.”

      “The field’s getting smaller fast. Ralph Porter, my partner, tracked down the father of the teen who won the scholarship. He was in Gainesville with his son last night, scoping out the campus for the fall semester. The Hampton Inn confirms that the family checked in Sunday afternoon and are still registered.”

      “And Representative Warner in Bradenton?”

      “He wasn’t answering his home phone, so I called his Manatee office. His aide says the entire Warner family flew from Tallahassee to Big Sky, Montana, Friday for spring break. Gave me the name of their resort. I reached the manager by phone and he corroborates that they’re booked through next weekend.”

      “So neither of us had any luck.”

      “How about with your dognapper?” Adler took another huge bite of his sandwich. He must have seen the longing in my eyes. “Want some? I can give you half.”

      “No, thanks.” I was still doing penance for tiramisu and would be counting calories the next few days. “I found the dog, but my client’s former employee is holding it hostage.”

      “That’s easy enough. Have a uniform pick up the little beast.”

      I shook my head. “My client insists on strict secrecy and no publicity. I’ll have to come up with another angle. Any ideas?”

      “You could always send in Malcolm, disguised as Animal Control.” He grinned.

      “Maybe, as a last resort.”

      “By the way, I got a call this afternoon from Elaine Fisk to give me her temporary address and phone number. She said you suggested she move in with her friend for the time being, and she followed your advice.”

      “Good. If whoever killed Deirdre did so to cover up three other murders, he’ll have nothing to lose by taking Elaine out, too, especially if he’s afraid she might ID him. But with all but one of our suspects from the photo with alibis, it’s looking more likely that her murder was random.” I nodded toward the case file on his desk. “Do you have any suspects from the park where Deirdre was found?”

      Adler shrugged. “It’s a known hangout for drug users and dealers, hookers and homeless. A lot of those vagrants are mentally unstable. Deirdre’s wallet was empty. She could have been killed for a few bucks.”

      “Or the killer could have taken her money to make it look that way.”

      “We’ve canvassed most of the known regulars at the СКАЧАТЬ