Rees said “No? Well, even so, you may want to think about buying a home. Stop in when you have some time. We can talk about what you would be looking for."
De la Peña thanked Rees and accepted a business card.
Moffat was ready to return to the subject of the meeting. “Mr. Rees, we’re hoping you can help us understand what kind of person Mrs. Gillis was in business and in her personal life. It often helps to go outside of the immediate family to get a more complete picture. We also need to know about her current business activities…plans, projects, clients.”
“I should be able to help, Captain. I’ve know her longer than anyone but her mother.”
He leaned back, very relaxed, and began to paint a portrait of Veronica Gillis. Moffat and De la Peña soon realized they were in the presence of a shrewd observer of human personality and behavior.
“She was a huge person - not physically, of course - but in the way her voice, her intensity and her desires dominated every activity in which she was involved. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her. She was in constant motion - gesturing, pointing, slapping shoulders, hugging. It could be exhausting being around her sometimes. Her talent was that she could make you see a building or a house or a garden as it was in her mind. In those pictures she would create, you would always see yourself happy whether it was you in a new home or maybe going to the bank to deposit a large check. In my case, she had me seeing myself drinking champagne, winning trophies and buying new clothes. I had five years in this business before she started but it didn’t take long before I was awed by that genius of hers.’
“Ronnie didn’t do it just for the money. She loved to pull strings, shape a situation to her will. It was a creative exercise for her. She was as much a developer as a realtor. She would plan years ahead to make all the pieces come together. I don’t know how many times she would announce a new project and we would soon learn that she had acquired an option for the property, had zoning changed, romanced all the right people, starting years before. I never knew how she did it.’
“Yes, she was one of a kind. Her mother was aggressive and successful but more like a typical smart businessperson. I sometimes wondered if the mother-daughter relationship might be the source of Ronnie’s tremendous drive. Not long after Ronnie joined us, I noticed there was a coldness between them. Laraine adored her oldest child, Ronnie’s half brother. She spoke to him several times a day. He was a brilliant cellist, destined for great things in New York or Europe. He studied at an arts college in southern California. I think he spent more time playing than studying because he was no where near graduating after four years. Then he drove his car off the road. He rolled it over. He was badly burned and died two days later. He was intoxicated at the time.
“After that, Laraine seemed to have even less affection for her remaining children. She was never the same in work or outside from what I could see. The day she had her stroke, Ronnie cleared out her office and her home and took over. I saw Laraine over the years. The stroke didn’t cause that much damage as far as I could tell. She could have come back to work but I think Ronnie made sure it would not happen.”
“Interesting,” Moffat said more to himself than to the others.
Rees said, “I have been going on, haven’t I. Maybe I should let you ask your questions.”
“No, it’s been very helpful. We need to understand as much as possible in a case like this. Would you tell me about the project at the Miner’s Flat church?”
“That was an unusual one. It is the perfect site for a town home development. The tract starts a block from town square opening up like a fan into Granite Creek Canyon with even more room to build up the slopes. It‘s an easy ten minute walk into town and less than a twenty minute drive to the industrial park. Ronnie must have recognized the potential years ago, even before they built the industrial park. She had the idea of using Granite Creek as a focal point and preserving most of the old church buildings at the entrance. There was one thing really bizarre about this deal. The Church didn’t own the land. It belonged to the Richolt family, one of the original ‘Founders Five.’ Back in 1858, they only leased the land to the original flock of faithful who built the first church in the county. Every year after, for a century, whoever was treasurer at the time would write a check and mail it to the Richolts. The original lease expired in 1958, and the church stopped making payments. Averill Richolt inherited the land in 1980. He never married, never had any children. Ten years before he died, Ronnie persuaded him to sell her an option to buy the property for a price of $800,000, about what it was worth at the time. Now its value has grown at least ten times that. All along, the church thought they owned it. Three years ago, they got into some real trouble. I don’t think I have to tell you about that…a youth counselor with a drug problem who should never have been allowed around teenage girls. There was a civil lawsuit, a big award to the plaintiffs. The church could have sold some of the land up the creek and kept the rest to settle the lawsuit if only they had owned it.” He chuckled. “The deacons were up the creek, weren’t they, Sergeant?”
De la Peña looked up from his notebook and gave a short whistle. “I guess they were.”
“Ronnie talked to the plaintiffs’ lawyer directly and by the time she was done, the local church had lost whatever claim they may have been able to make on the buildings or the land in exchange for a cash settlement.
“And here is another twist, gentlemen. Five years before Averill sold her the option, Ronnie began an affair with him. He used to stop by the office two or three times a month in the early afternoon. I knew what was going on. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. What do you think of that?”
“It is very interesting.” Moffat replied. He could see De la Peña was enjoying the interview. There may be a few stains from cookie crumbs on the Sergeant’s notes.
Moffat asked: “What will happen to the business, Mr. Rees?”
“I’m not sure. It is obvious Wade Gillis couldn’t run it. I don’t think he would want to. It may be possible for the employees to buy it. We would have to borrow from our profit sharing accounts and take on a partner or two. We discussed it this morning and there is a lot of enthusiasm for the idea. We’ll see, Captain.”
* * *
Out once again in the daylight, they walked to the car. De la Peña commented on what a warm, good-natured person James Rees was. “He reminds me of one of my uncles.” A worry crossed De la Peña’s mind. “You’re not going to pin this on him, are you sir?”
Moffat smiled. “We’ll see, Sergeant.”
* * *
“Wait ‘til you see what I’ve got.” Officer Tashara told De la Peña. After her stint minding Aaron Jamison earlier in the day, she had returned to her investigation of the financial files on Veronica Gillis’ hard drive.
The Sergeant jumped from his chair and pulled Tashara to Moffat’s desk in the corner. “Officer Tashara has something from the victim’s computer. Okay, Tashara, let’s have it.”
She blushed and said, “I can’t find anything out of the ordinary. Cash coming in about $15,000 a month, salary and rental income. Going out, less than ten on the average. She was doing really well. No big debts other than mortgages. Cash withdrawals about $400 every couple of weeks. Meals out, gasoline, phones, Internet all charged as business expenses. Maybe something for the IRS but nothing of interest to us.”
A disappointed De la Peña complained “I thought you said you had something.”
“No. You jumped to that conclusion.”
De la Peña lowered his head. “Right, well, thanks. Captain, would you come over to my computer? Officer Fat brought in a CD-ROM with video of Gold Rush Minimart’s surveillance cameras. If Mrs. Pane bought her lottery ticket last night, we should see it.”
The video file from the CD-ROM showed the date and had a time counter in the lower right of the screen. It started at 5:00 P.M. Sergeant De la Peña fast-forwarded fifty-five minutes, then played the video at normal speed. Mrs. G
rubb and Officer Tashara came up on each side of Moffat as he stood behind De la Peña with his hands on the top of the chair. The counter showed 5:58 when Mrs. Pane walked into the camera shot, waiting her turn at the cash register. She handed the clerk two one-dollar bills then left with her ticket. De la Peña moved the cursor to close the window. Four icons appeared. He moved the cursor to the second icon, double-clicked the mouse. The file took about a half a minute to load.
“This should be video from the outside of the store to the street. Maybe we can see which way she goes.”
De la Peña located 6:03 on the file. They watched Mrs. Pane walk between an automobile and a van at the gas pump island, disappearing behind the van.
“No. No,” De la Peña shouted at the computer screen. “It didn’t get her. The camera didn’t pick it up.”
Moffat had moved very close to the screen, watching the video intently. “Go back, Sergeant. Back to before Pane comes into the picture.” De la Peña moved the video back. “There.”
At 5:55 on the counter, Moffat tapped the screen. There were two cars on the far side of the island. From each one, a man emerged. Each pulled the nozzle from the pump opposite his vehicle and appeared to begin filling the tank. The men approached each other behind the van then separated just before Mrs. Pane appeared on screen.
“That’s Scott Conti, getting out of an Aston Martin Vantage. Where does he get these sports cars?” De la Peña became exited. “Ho, ho. If you’re going to give a false alibi, don’t go to a place with surveillance cameras. Now the father’s got himself in trouble for lying to us.” Then, his mood changed once again. “Wait, doesn’t that give the kid an alibi?”
“No,” Moffat said. “He could easily have driven to the church in time to shoot Gillis at 6:15. I’m not so sure about Mrs. Pane. Could she have walked back from the gas station in time?”
“She could have.” Mrs. Grubb shared her opinion. “It would be a brisk walk but I could do it and she’s younger.”
“Maybe Conti gave her a ride. They could be in it together.” De la Peña offered with a chuckle.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Moffat said.
Mrs. Grubb walked with Moffat back to his desk. “I have two things to give you, Captain Moffat.” She handed him a phone message, the shopping list continuing on the back. “Looks like good news, right?”
Moffat read the list: Four rib eye steaks, parsley, garlic, lemon, red onion, pound cake, strawberries, and rum. Moffat thought they would be having company and that he would be using his gas barbecue for the steaks. Jean would be making Argentine chimichurri steak sauce with the second through fifth items. But the last three ingredients were for … what? A trifle, maybe. Except that Jean’s recipe used brandy and sherry not rum. More seriously, Moffat wondered that Jean would phone today. It was unusual for her to plan to entertain when she knew he was in the early stages of an investigation. Had she told him about dinner guests last week?
“Here’s the second thing.” Mrs. Grubb whispered, handing Moffat a flash drive. “I loaded some e-mails you should see. Our victim wasn’t all business. Her e-mail folder had messages of a ‘personal nature’ to and from the Chief, the County Exec, two members of the Planning Commission and Nicholas Conti.”
Moffat whispered. “Mrs. Grubb, did you get any indication that one of these men may have become jealous?”
“No. The messages were all quite casual. I might have thought that these could have been only flirtatious but a few statements were made implying actual rendezvous.” Mrs. Grubb nodded slowly and knowingly. She watched Moffat for a reaction.
“I see.”
* * *
At twenty minutes after six, Moffat drove the two-lane road toward home. The hills were covered in new growth. Scrub oaks and valley oaks were a blue green and short grass around them was bright, pale green. He turned into the gently winding one lane road that led to winery and home. A bag of groceries was on the car floor, his brief case on the passenger seat. Moffat had left De la Peña working with the officers assembling statements from the neighbors whose homes surrounded the crime scene. Ballistics and autopsy results were expected by tomorrow.
Moffat ascended his long driveway and as he rounded the curve he saw a large motor home parked on the concrete beyond the garage. Moffat didn’t have to see the “Honk if You’re Horny” bumper sticker and the round U.S. Navy decal to know that this was a surprise visit by Norma and Ralph, Jean’s aunt and uncle. They could be a challenge, sometimes, but Moffat would always feel affection for them. They were the first, and for a while, only members of Jean’s family to welcome him. A nagging mystery at the back of his mind was resolved. The rum was for Ralph’s morning coffee.
~ ~ ~
CHAPTER 6
Nicole Davies left the office early that day, about four-thirty. She had brought her laundry with her, leaving it in trunk of her car so that she could stop at the laundromat on the way home. Nicole was new to Segovia. Just three weeks ago, she transferred to Pacific Gas & Electric’s Segovia office. A promotion to accounting supervisor was a great career opportunity and meant a nice raise, either of which would have been sufficient to entice her to leave her hometown of Stockton. She would have preferred to be closer to her mother, sister and niece and nephew but was glad to see the last of a boyfriend who was more serious about water skiing, fishing and beer than their relationship.
Nicole found two washers open. She loaded her colored clothes in one, whites in the other, then relaxed with People magazine for the next fifty minutes. She interrupted her reading only three times: to move the clothes to two dryers, to hang her permanent press garments on cushioned hangers she had brought with her and to phone Denny’s with a “to go” order. When she had just arrived a nice looking young man asked about fabric softener sheets - do they cause stains? As she folded her clothes a women with two small children smiled at her. Otherwise she had no contact with the patrons or staff of Pioneer Laundromat. Finished, she lifted the basket with her left arm and gathered the clothes on hangers with her right elbow. She pushed the glass door open with her shoulder, walked to the car and set the basket on the roof while she unlocked the driver’s side door. She placed the basket on the floor in the back and lay the hanging clothes on the seat.
Nicole was inside Denny’s for just about ten minutes. The hostess opened a Styrofoam container checking that it contained Nicole’s order of a cheeseburger and French fries then placed it inside a plastic grocery bag. Nicole paid cash, thanked the hostess and left. Denny’s was filling up rapidly with the dinner crowd so quite a few people would have seen the attractive blonde whose hair was slightly disheveled from a day at work and the subsequent errands.
Nicole pulled into the driveway of the house she rented. It was a tiny box of a place sixty feet from the highway, surrounded by a yard of sparse grass and scattered oaks and pines. Its 700 square feet consisted of a living room and kitchen in front and, separated by a short hall, the single bedroom and bathroom. At the end of the hall was a small window. Sometime before Nicole pulled into the front driveway, a man wearing gloves and a ski mask slipped a screwdriver through the latch of the window in the hall and pushed it up to permit easy entry.
The house was already in the shadow of the ridge opposite the backyard so very little light penetrated the interior. The man heard Nicole insert the key in the front door lock. He moved into the doorway of her bathroom as she entered carrying her clothes on hangers. He waited as she hung the clothes in the bedroom then moved to the bedroom doorway when Nicole returned to the car for the folded laundry and her dinner. He heard the car door close, the sound of the alarm being activated by her key chain remote. Nicole entered the kitchen, turned on the light switch and moved toward the sink, away from the man in the hall. Quietly and smoothly, he removed a hypodermic syringe from his pocket, pulled off the orange plastic cap and took two soundless steps to the light switch. He turned off the light and before Nicole could react, covered her mouth with his left hand. He t
hrust the syringe toward her right buttock. At that moment, Nicole slipped down four inches. The syringe struck her wide leather belt instead of soft flesh, the needle bending as he shoved it. Concurrent with her slipping motion, Nicole slammed her left elbow into his groin and escaped from his grasp. The syringe fell to the floor. The man made a quick effort to pick it up then thought instead to grab Nicole. His hesitation gave her just enough time to pick up the key chain from the counter and fire a shot of pepper spray from a red plastic dispenser on the chain. She fired directly into his face. The man, stunned, turned and ran for the front door. He opened it and ran out chased by Nicole, still armed with the pepper spray. He dashed to the left, ran around the house down into a ravine that separated Nicole’s yard from the ridge behind. Nicole’s low-heeled sandals slowed her down. She stopped her pursuit and then pressed the panic button on the car remote. The honking horn and flashing lights soon attracted the attention of Nicole’s closest neighbor.
* * *
Jean had designed the redwood deck that was placed one step down from the rear side of the wrap-around porch. The deck was a hexagon with rails on the three sides clockwise-from the porch and a solid stucco wall, four feet high, on the remaining sides back to the house. Standing in the center, surrounded by a five-sided bench, was a 25 foot valley oak. In front of the two-walled side of the deck was an outdoor kitchen complete with gas grill, oven, small sink and under the counter refrigerator. This had been Jean’s gift to Alexander who for reasons unknown to her, loved to cook outdoors.
Moffat inspected the undersides of the rib eyes and determined it was time to turn them. This he did expertly with long wooden-handled tongs, part of a three-piece barbecue set, a gift from his daughter. He took a sip from a glass of Mendocino malbec. In the kitchen, Jean prepared twice-baked potatoes with Gruyere while her aunt chopped lettuce, cucumber and tomato for a salad. Ralph, who had been supervising Alexander’s work with the steaks returned to the kitchen to prepare a second batch of frozen daiquiris. Moffat thought it was a shame that these excellent steaks with Jean’s fresh chimichurri sauce would serve only as accessories to the daiquiris as far as their houseguests were concerned.