Read Black Monday, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 7 Page 25

  Chapter 25

  PHIL

   

  While Stan was in Washington, Rebekah called me to congratulate me about the wedding. She was very excited that I was getting married, and said she wanted to throw me a shower. Her enthusiasm dampened my spirits as it made me think of losing Stan forever. I wanted to kick myself for feeling that way. I had to get over Stan and focus on Bart. He was handsome, smart, loyal—and he loved me. Why couldn't I love him the same way he loved me? I would, in time, I told myself.

  I was upset that Stan had gone off to Washington again. It didn't make sense that he was spending so much time trying to find Robert Huntington. Why in the hell did he care what happened to him? He hardly knew him and the bastard hadn't even given us a retainer. All this work was probably being done pro bono. I couldn't understand Stan sometimes, why he acted the way he did. Deep down, though, what was really nagging at me was fear—fear that he wouldn't come back to me. After his kidnaping in Ecuador, I worried constantly about him. I couldn't lose him.

  The wedding planner had called that morning and wanted to have lunch with Bart and me so we could talk about the wedding and make some decisions. Although I was depressed I agreed and called Bart to see if he could make it. He said he'd juggle his schedule so he could fit it in. After lunch I went back out to the Baker's condo to see if I could find Amanda Black's mysterious suitor. He was my best hope for a viable suspect in Don and Amanda's murder. I prayed he wouldn't have an alibi. I described him to the manager and told her I thought his name was Phil. She looked through the owner's roster and found him—Phillip F. Smart."

  Phil reminded me of a weasel—short, intense, and annoying. I couldn't imagine Amanda Black going for this guy. There had to be money involved. It surprised me that he was home since it was in the middle of a work day. He checked me out and then smiled and said, "Hello."

  I introduced myself and asked if I could have a moment of his time. He nodded and backed away to let me in. He motioned toward a big stuffed chair. The apartment was nicely decorated but dirty and cluttered. I sat down and he took a seat on the sofa.

  "So what's this about?" He asked.

  "Amanda Black."

  "Oh, that girl who was murdered?"

  "Yes. Did you know her?"

  "Ah. . . . Well. . . . Not really."

  I frowned. "Hmm. I thought you two dated."

  "Oh. . . . Well. That's ancient history."

  "How did you two meet?"

  "At the pool. I hang out there a lot, you know. I try to do twenty laps a day to keep fit."

  "I see."

  I could see Phil hanging out at the pool gawking at all the women sun bathing. I made a mental note to check to see if he had a criminal record—a sex offender perhaps.

  "So, were you home the day she was murdered?"

  He looked away like the answer was eluding him. "Ah, well . . . maybe."

  "What kind of work do you do?"

  "Consulting."

  "Consulting? What kind of consulting?"

  "Computer chip design. I do contract work for TI."

  "Oh. I see. So you work out of your home?"

  "Yes, it's all computer work. Sometimes I work at home, sometimes at the TI plant in Lewisville."

  "Did you see anything unusual the day Don and Amanda were murdered?"

  He squinted like answering the question was painful to him. "No, not really."

  "Did you see Amanda that day?"

  "No," he said emphatically."

  "Were you alone the night she was murdered?"

  "Yes. There was a football game on TV that night. I worked on a project until the game started, fixed me something to eat, and watched it until it was over. Then I went to bed."

  "When was it over?"

  "About 11:00 p.m."

  "So can you think of anything that might help me figure out who murdered Amanda?"

  He thought for a moment and replied, "No. Not really." He swallowed hard. "I've seen your client around here though, many times. He and Amanda had a thing going for quite a while, you know. He didn't like it when his father-in-law started doing her."

  "Doing her?"

  He shook his head. "Screwing her. You know what I mean. The bastard."

  "You're right. I've heard that too. Did Amanda ever talk about Jimmy?"

  "Sure, she liked him, but for her it was all about money. Jimmy couldn't compete with Don. He controlled all the money. The bastard."

  "So, if Jimmy liked Amanda, why would he kill her?"

  He shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe he wanted to punish both of them for betraying him. The bastard."

  "What about you, Phil? Did you want to punish them for betraying you?"

  Phil's face tightened. "Me? No. No way."

   

  "You sure?" I asked. "You kill three birds with one stone—Don and Amanda with a knife and Jimmy by lethal injection."

   He stood up. "I think this conversation is over," he said. "I've told you everything I know."

  I smiled and stood up. "Yes, you have and I appreciate your cooperation."

  Phil escorted me out and slammed the door behind me. I laughed inside as I walked back to my car. Even if Phil wasn't the killer, he was the perfect patsy for the ill deed. Any jury would relish the opportunity to nail a jerk like him. I went away a happy woman. Phil had made my day.