Death of A Raven Read online

  Chapter 8

  On his way back to Raleigh, Serengi picked up Judge Raynor's message that he had a short session and would be in his office early, waiting.

  Despite his reputation as a hard-line judge, Raynor had a quick smile and relaxed manner. Serengi had appeared in his court a few times.

  "What do you need, Palmer?"

  "You had lunch with John Raven on Friday?"

  "A quick dog and slaw, if you want to call that lunch, yeah."

  "Besides indigestion, anything stand out from your meeting?"

  "Nope. He didn't act like a man who was gonna be killed in a few days, if that's what you're asking. You know he was thinking about running for office?"

  "Hadn't heard that."

  "He was only in the early thinking stages. He wanted to get a feel for what we're encountering on the bench these days in criminal court. I filled him in."

  "Nothing else?"

  "As I said, it was a quick lunch. We both had other places to go."

  "Did he say what his was?"

  "To tell the truth, I think it was golf."

  Serengi thanked Judge Raynor then drove to the office. There, he got in touch with Raven's golf partner and found out that other than getting stressed by some poor shots, Raven was no different on Friday than at any other time.

  The senator called while Serengi was going through phone records. He confirmed meeting with Raven on Friday and said it had been a B.S. session. Raven had wanted to get a sense of what support he could expect from other legislators if he should run for office in the future. They had talked for a half hour or so over some barbecue.

  Dogs and barbecue? Man must have been tough, Serengi decided. Was this the same stodgy man Marcia Tilden had spoken of?

  Raven's phone records showed numerous calls to his ex-wife, son, and daughter as well as to his daughter's oncologist and Duke Medical Center. Serengi paid particular attention to the calls made Thursday through Saturday. The last call made by John Raven was at 7:58 P.M. on Friday and it was to his son. He'd made several calls to his son that day. There was also a call to a Dr. Montez in Wilmington made earlier that same day. Serengi put in a request for Ron Raven's phone records: home, cellular, and work.

  From what he'd learned, John Raven had probably been killed between 3:30 and 6:30 Saturday. He'd been killed by a revolver firing two 38-caliber bullets. No apparent struggle. And the killer had either been let in by Raven or had a key.

  Serengi left Raleigh in time to be in Wilmington by five.

  Chapter 9

  He lazed around the boat slip where Ron Raven moored his boat. He watched for half an hour before asking any questions. Only one of the boats normally moored near the Raven's boat was still out on the water. Three sport fishers were unloading from a charter, their catch packed in ice. Of the boats still attended, no one had taken note of the Raven's boat during the past weekend, except one.

  A cabin cruiser. The white-haired woman on board said they'd seen the Raven's trawler there when they arrived at seven that Saturday morning and it was there when they'd returned at six that evening. But she hadn't seen Raven. She remembered because she'd been hoping to introduce her granddaughter to Raven. They'd left their slip by 7:30 that morning.

  A crusty oldster, tying his boat up, watched Serengi approach.

  Serengi introduced himself and asked the white-stubbled man what he recalled from Saturday about the nearby boats and their owners.

  "Nothing. I mind my own business." The man turned back to his business.

  "You were here, then?"

  "Yep."

  "Around what time?"

  "All day."

  "And you don't recall seeing anyone or noticing if any or all of the boats were absent?"

  "I was busy. A man working on his boat isn't gazing around to see what others are doing."

  "Then it's possible that the Freedom, the Raven boat, could have been out on the river but you wouldn't have noticed?"

  "I suppose."

  "Ummm. We had someone tell us that the Freedom's the boat that capsized a couple of catamarans at the entrance to the basin that day. Deliberately ran at them."

  "No way. Ron's careful. What time that happen?"

  "Sometime between three and four."

  "Saturday, you say? I remember, now. His boat was here. He'd been out early, maybe eight, but came back before noon. Didn't go out after that."

  "You sure about that? I mean, before you said you didn't see anything."

  "I'm sure. A man notices his neighbor's boat but why should I tell you his business, unless there's a good reason to?"

  "Yeah, why should someone heed civic duty? We may be talking again." Serengi stuffed his card in a crack in the piling so it protruded upwards.

  Chapter 10

  By Wednesday Raven's body was in the care of a funeral home with burial planned for Thursday morning.

  Ron Raven's phone records showed that he'd called his father's house a few times the week preceding his father's death, but the call that interested Serengi was the one made Saturday morning at ten from his cell phone. A two minute job to his father's home.

  It was time to talk to Mr. Ron Raven again.

  He found him at his sister's home. He asked him how he had spent the preceding Saturday.

  "On my boat out beyond the basin."

  "Alone?"

  "Yes. Why?"

  "Details. I need to cover all the bases. How long were you out?"

  Serengi's response seemed to satisfy Raven. He brushed his hair from his forehead. "I didn't keep close track of my time. I guess most of the day. It was still light when I came back."

  "Tell me again when you last saw or spoke to your father?"

  Raven glanced at the table top. "Couple of weeks ago."

  "Couple of weeks ago you saw him or spoke to him?"

  "Both." He glanced at his watch.

  "Really," Serengi said. "You didn't speak to him, say as recently as Saturday?"

  "No." Raven turned his glass of water around and around on the table, looking deep into the liquid.

  Serengi waited.

  Raven glanced quickly at Serengi then back to the glass again. "Well, he did call one day, we spoke for less than a minute. Is that what you have in mind?"

  "Maybe. When was that?"

  "I don't know. One day last week. As I said, it was a short conversation."

  "What did he want?"

  "To know when I was going to see Ginny again."

  "And you didn't call him?"

  "No. I didn't call him."

  "The phone records say different. You called him on Saturday around ten."

  Raven right hand reached to the back of his neck and he rubbed it for a minute. He looked at Serengi. "Yes, okay. Maybe I called him on Saturday. But it was no big deal."

  "It is when you say you last spoke to him two weeks ago and here we see that you spoke to him on the day he died."

  "Listen, maybe I should get my lawyer. Your questions imply something that isn't so."

  "And that is?"

  "You know. That I had something to do with my father's death."

  "I didn't say that. I just want to know what he had to say that day. You may not think it's anything but it might be. What do you remember about it?"

  "It was private. Between us."

  "Was it about being a donor for your sister?"

  Raven head snapped up and he looked with surprise at Serengi. "Why do you say that? What do you know about my sister?"

  "I know that your father was angry you weren't willing to be a donor for her."

  "Not wouldn't. Couldn't." Raven glanced out the window.

  "Couldn't? Is that what you talked to him about on Saturday?"

  "Yes. I told him about my hepatitis."

  "And how did he react to that?"

  "How else? There wasn't anything either of us could do about it. Sure, he was upset. Just as I'm u
pset I can't be a donor."

  "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

  "I don't know. Guess I figured it was family business."

  "Okay. Now that we're being open here, tell me again how you spent Saturday?"

  Raven's mouth tightened and he picked up and half-slammed the glass of water down, slopping some over the side to spread across the dark wood. "Damn," he said and pulled out a tissue and began to wipe it up. "Out checking the nitrogen level of the water at the mouth of the river basin."

  "I've got witnesses that have your boat in port all of Saturday afternoon. So tell me how you spent the afternoon."

  "I felt sick, so I went home."

  "Did you call anyone or see anyone?"

  "No. Is that all, Detective Palmer? Or should I be calling my lawyer? I think I've answered enough of your questions."

  "One more question. Who's your doctor?"

  "None of your business. It's time to leave, Detective."

  Serengi stood. "I'll be in touch. I can let myself out."

  Chapter 11

  The conversation with Virginia Raven-Howland's oncologist was brief. The doctor confirmed that they were still looking for a bone marrow donor and also confirmed that even if Ron Raven had matched on bone marrow he wouldn't have been a candidate because of his medical problems.

  "That'd be hepatitis?" The briefest of moments passed before the oncologist responded.

  "I can't answer that. All I can tell you is we can't use him. If you need specifics the person to ask is Ron Raven."

  "Are you also Ron's doctor?"

  "No."

  Something was odd. Serengi wasn't satisfied he was hearing the whole story. And if there was an omission here there might be one elsewhere. His experience had shown that it wasn't only lies that misled but the small omissions that when summed hid the truth.

  John Raven funeral was well attended. The absence of his former partner John Dormer could easily have been missed. Many of Raven's associates in the legal and political community showed up, looking appropriately somber. A smaller contingent followed the hearse to the cemetery. It was a perfect day to be buried. Pleasantly warm and dry with the scent of life from blossoming evergreen shrubs.

  Only misty eyes and a clutched tissue detracted from Raven's daughter's composure. His son stared straight ahead.

  No weapon had been recovered. The CCBI report on the evidence collected had come in. Several unidentified latent prints, prints clearly not the victim's had been found at the victim's home. The clearest ones were partials of a thumb and index finger found on the water knob in the foyer's bathroom. They'd widened their AFIS search criteria from Wake County only, to nearby counties and then statewide. No print matched. CCBI had put in a request for a national check from the FBI database, but there'd be a wait of about two months for results.

  One oddity found at the crime scene was the trace of crappie fish scale found within the pile of the entrance way rug.

  Funeral or not, Serengi contacted Raven's two children and requested they come in to CCBI's downtown office to be printed to eliminate them as a possible source for the partial latents. He'd need BettyAnn Briar's as well.

  He made a note to get, in detail, BettyAnn's cleaning routine. If she cleaned the faucets and knobs each visit, then the prints could have come anytime after the last cleaning on Thursday. The crappie scale was of particular interest. Someone had been fishing. He didn't picture the deceased as a fisher. Had a visitor arrived, catch in hand? Unlikely. It was more likely that the fish detritus had come from someone's footwear.

  Serengi called BettyAnn's agency and got a number where he might find her. She said she would get printed later in the afternoon and could also drop off the checklist used on the cleaning jobs. Yes, they did clean all bathroom surfaces, including faucet knobs. Yes, she wore gloves. And yes, the rugs were vacuumed.

  He decided to call Dr. Montez, the Wilmington doctor John Raven had contacted the day before his death.

  The conversation was similar to the one with the daughter's doctor. They must all go to the same patient privacy class Serengi decided. The good doctor confirmed that Raven had called but wouldn't budge beyond that point.

  "You are Ron Raven's doctor, is that correct?"

  "Yes."

  "I understand that John Raven, Ron's father, was concerned that he might need to go for hepatitis B shots?"

  "He may have been."

  "Was he or wasn't he?"

  "If he was, he didn't express that concern."

  "Then what was he concerned about?"

  "His son's well being. Like I told him, I'll tell you: if you've got questions concerning Ron Raven and his medical condition, you need to direct them to Ron or have Ron call and give his consent for me to speak about his condition with you."

  More and more interesting, Serengi thought, as he rubbed his thin mustache.

  Chapter 12

  Friday, he took a drive out to the Raven's neighborhood and stopped by the nearby homes. His first stop found only a live-in nanny and two young children at home. The nanny, a professional, degree certified, had been living next door to the Raven's home for three years. She knew nothing. On the Saturday Raven had been killed, she'd taken the children to the North Carolina zoo while her employers were in Winston-Salem at a conference.

  Two doors down he found a UNC grad student at home. She said she knew the Raven all her life. Serengi asked what she knew of them.

  "Mr. Raven kept to himself mostly. Mrs. Raven was the one we all knew. She used to organize the games and trips and things. You'd always find her at Ron and Ginny's soccer games. Never him, though."

  "Was he a good father?"

  "He gave them whatever they wanted. Except himself. They handled it."

  "Were you close with either of the kids?"

  "Ron more than Ginny. She was older."

  "How'd they get along, Ron and his father?"

  "Okay. Though there was a time when Ron and his dad weren't speaking. His junior year in high school he fell off the honor roll. Boy, was his dad pissed."

  "He had high expectations of his kids, then?"

  "You could say that again. And not only them. Poor George Howland. If he'd only known he was marrying more than Ginny, he might still be alive."

  "How's that?" Serengi leaned back against the veranda railing.

  "George was supposed to be the cream of the crop. Good family, top of his class at UNC, man with a future. But six years of being in the Raven family was more than he could take. Bango, he commits suicide."

  "When was this?"

  "Um, about three years ago." She looked off into the far trees while Serengi noted this.

  "You know," she said, "they say depression can make you sick. Look at Ginny Howland. I wonder if she'd have cancer if George were still alive?"

  "Do you know why he killed himself?"

  "Not really. All I know is that something happened and old man Raven came down on him like a hive of hornets. I heard from a friend of a friend that Ginny took her husband's side and when George killed himself she blamed her father. She didn't even want him at George's funeral. Practicality won out, though."

  Serengi looked questioningly at her.

  "Appearances. Best to mend the fences."

  Serengi nodded. "Do you recall anything from the weekend Raven died? See anything out of the ordinary or notice anyone visiting the Raven house?"

  "No. I was out most of the day and who pays attention at night?"

  Serengi thanked her and drove towards downtown with much on his mind.

  He checked old records for the report on the Howland death. George Howland had gone out to Umstead Park one Sunday morning after sending his wife to church and blown away his life with a .357 recovered at the scene. The death had been closed as a suicide.

  Serengi got back in his car and drove out to Virginia Howland's home. The Evans woman answered the door.

  "Hi. I'd l
ike to speak to Mrs. Howland if I might. But first, a few questions?"

  She smiled at him and motioned him in.

  "It'd be better if you stepped out here. Won't disturb anyone, this way."

  "As you like," she said passing by him and closing the door.

  "Miss Evans, tell me about last Saturday. Were you here then?"

  "Yes, most of the day. I did go out and do some shopping in the afternoon."

  "About when to when?"

  "Exactly? I can't give you exactly. Sometime after Mrs. Howland lay down for a rest. Maybe two, two-thirty? I was back around 4:30."

  "And Mrs. Howland? Where was she when you returned?"

  "Sitting up, reading."

  "How long had she been up?"

  "Probably not that long. She said she'd just freshened up."

  "Anyone else here that day?"

  "Not that I know of. Why?"

  "Just trying to get a better picture of that Saturday. Where is Mrs. Howland now?"

  "In the living room."

  "Good. Let's go in. If you could give me a few minutes alone with Mrs. Howland?"

  "Sure."

  She led him in and left the room as Virginia Raven-Howland motioned him to a seat.

  "Mrs. Howland. Just a few questions. Can you go over your activities of last Saturday?"

  "I didn't do much. I don't have as much strength these days as I used to."

  "You stayed home, then, all day?"

  "Yes."

  "Any one besides Miss Evans see you here?"

  "No. Should they have?"

  "I'm making sure I cross all my 't's Mrs. Howland. How long has it been now that you and your father have been speaking regularly?"

  "Regularly? Detective, we speak all the time. Nothing new there."

  "Oh? I understand there was a time after your husband's death when you had little to do with your father."

  Mrs. Howland took a sharp breath and clamped her teeth for a moment. She paused then answered, keeping her eyes on his. "That was some time ago. We move on Detective, otherwise we don't survive."

  "So there were no hard feelings remaining?"

  "None. My father was doing all he could to save my life. How much closer can one be?"