Death of A Raven Read online

  "Well we know that Ron might have had a gun with him."

  "Might's a far cry from 'had'."

  "Give us time and we'll get the rest of the pieces together. Like, for instance, how your sister cleaned up after you."

  "What? What are you talking about?"

  "We know she was at the house after you. She played little Miss Mary Cleanup, but she missed one spot where we found your prints. We told you about that."

  "Leave my sister out of this. She's got nothing to do with it."

  "We have a witness who puts her there. Now, if you walked away from it as you said, that means he was alive when your sister arrived. You saying she did it?"

  "I'm not saying anything like that. Don't put words in my mouth!"

  "What are we to think, then? Someone killed him. Someone he knew. If it wasn't you, who then?"

  "How about you dumbos thinking that maybe it wasn't either of us, huh? Why does it have to be us?"

  Deevers smiled. "I'll admit my ears are sorta big, but dumbo, I'm not. I can't claim to be as cute. Why does it have to be one of you two? It was someone your father was at ease with; it was someone who was there during a span of twelve hours and so far, all we have points only to you and your sister.

  "The way we see it right now, she's trying to protect you. Is that what's going on here?"

  "No."

  Deevers looked at Serengi. "What'd do you say? We leave Ron here alone to do some thinking while we go and talk to his sister?"

  "Let's."

  Mr. Jones whispered to Ron and hurried out the door after Serengi and Deevers. "I'm representing Virginia as well."

  "Do you think it's a good idea to represent both? Don't you have a conflict of interest, here?"

  "I'll be the judge of that. I have two innocent clients being badgered by the police."

  Virginia Raven-Howland looked up from the paperback she was reading when they entered. The picture of serenity, she smiled up at them.

  "Mrs. Howland," Serengi began, "your brother tells us that when he left your father's house on Saturday, your father was still alive. Now, we doubt that, but if that's so, then we have to take a closer look at your early evening visit there."

  "Of course my father was all right when Ron left. I've been telling you that. I spoke to him a short time later. Now, this nonsense you are saying about my being there, that's just rubbish."

  "Have no doubt that we can put you there. Why don't you just tell us how long and what transpired?"

  "And if I wasn't there?"

  "Then we'll have to go with what we have which is your brother as our prime suspect. He'd be the last person we know of to see your father alive. We think they got into it about your brother getting AIDS and things got out of hand."

  "Conjecture, Detective," Jones added.

  "My brother's visit there no way makes him a murderer. You've got nothing."

  "Beg to differ," Deevers interjected. "We've got his prints and a time of death during that time span. We don't have the weapon yet, but we will."

  Jones forestalled any response from Virginia Howland. "They've got nothing. All minor circumstantial." Turning to the detectives, he continued, "Are we finished, here? There isn't much to be gained by your continuing to try to confuse my clients."

  "My brother's not a monster. He's not a killer."

  "Did you ever actually ask him?"

  "I had no reason to."

  "Okay, I get the picture," said Deevers, "You both muddy the waters enough so no one can be sure who did what. Therefore, everyone is innocent. You might as well say you were too busy doing the Bacardi run: out on a veranda porch enjoying early evening hurricanes." Serengi cringed at Deever's crudity.

  Virginia Howland shook her head emphatically 'no' and, bone-weary, clammed up.

  "It won't work," said Deevers. "We've enough to arrest Ron on suspicion: motive and opportunity. That'll do for a start."

  "Bull, detectives," Jones thrust between Deevers and the door. "What motive? If you're using AIDS as a motive, forget it."

  "No, we're using John Raven known temperament and some overheard angry words."

  "Not enough."

  "Maybe not 100% yet, but we'll get the rest. So, you see Mrs. Howland, there's no reason not to tell us that you stopped by your father's house."

  Virginia Howland glanced at her lawyer who shook his head advising against speaking. She looked back at Deevers and smiled. "Tell me, Detective Deevers, you say someone saw me go into my father's house?"

  "Like that," Deevers said, hedging.

  Her sparkling laugh filled the silence. "And you think I cleaned up for my brother? Wiped everything down, took his cup of coffee away, and dusted on my way out?" She chuckled.

  Serengi felt the tiny surge of adrenaline kick in. He hoped Deevers had caught it.

  He had. "No, you weren't that good. You forgot his cup. You're an accessory after the fact. Did you know that?"

  Virginia Howland was frowning, staring at the table. "I don't understand."

  "Trying to cover-up for a killer makes you an accessory."

  "Not that," she said. "What'd you say about a cup?"

  "I said you left his cup there for us to find."

  "A coffee cup?"

  "That's right."

  "I was only kidding. Ron doesn't drink coffee, so that wasn't his cup."

  "What wasn't?"

  "The one you just said you found."

  "Then whose was it?"

  "Obviously my father's. That was the only other cup."

  "Other cup?"

  She paled and glanced at Jones.

  "That's enough," he said. "Come on, Virginia."

  "Did you ever think you might have been cleaning up traces that might have proven your brother innocent? Suppose someone else had been there after Ron left? That ever occur to you?"

  Virginia Howland stopped and looked at Jones. "Is that possible? Could someone else have been there?"

  "Certainly someone was there after Ron since Ron isn't the killer and neither are you."

  She sat down again and sighed. After a minute she began talking in a low voice.

  "Yes, I did go to my father's. I was worried when I couldn't get an answer. I knew he was furious at Ron and hoped he hadn't done anything stupid.

  "He was dead when I got there. I thought Ron ... well, I only knew that Ron had been there. I didn't think. You're right, I cleaned up. I took Ron's mug and washed it and put it away. I wiped down everything I thought he might have touched. I even took the cleaning rag home with me and buried it within my trash in the garbage."

  "Did you pick anything up?"

  "From the floor?"

  "From anywhere."

  "No. Oh, God, do you think I covered up someone else's tracks?"

  "It's possible. Was the door locked when you arrived?"

  "Yes. I let myself in. But I didn't have to unlock the deadbolt. It wasn't locked."

  "How long were you there?

  "Fifteen minutes. Twenty? I don't know."

  Serengi caught Deevers' eye then interjected, "How come you didn't pick up the mail?"

  "Was there mail? I didn't look."

  "Inside the house. On the floor."

  "I don't know. I didn't think of it."

  "Did you go through the house? Look upstairs?"

  "No."

  "What exactly did you clean?"

  "Door knobs and things."

  "Why didn't you call the police then?"

  "I was afraid to...I'd touched so much. I thought if I waited...maybe, I don't know. I wanted to talk to Ron first."

  "And did you?" Deevers asked.

  "Not until late that night."

  "And what did Ron suggest?" continued Deevers, picking up the thread of questioning again.

  "Not to make it worse. If we called then, he was afraid you'd suspect us." She looked at Deevers. "And he was right."

  "Can y
ou think back to when you first entered the house?" Serengi asked.

  She nodded.

  "Do this one step at a time. Visualize walking up to the door. Tell us exactly what you sensed and saw when you opened the door."

  She closed her eyes. "It's quiet. No lights are on but I can see. The smell of flowers? No,...not sweet, a clean, sharp smell. Citrus?" Her eyebrows lifted and dropped in a mental shrug. "A different smell near the living room. Caustic. Envelopes, junk mail, on the floor, light fading but clear enough to see. I didn't see my father at first. Not until the stain on the wall caught my eye.

  "I checked for a pulse. When I remembered that Ron had been there, I looked around. That's when I looked for any sign he'd been there. I picked up the cup and saucer and took it to the kitchen. Then I cleaned up whatever I could think of that might have shown fingerprints." She opened her eyes.

  "You mentioned flowers when you first entered. Did you see any?"

  "No. My father didn't like the scent of flowers. Maybe it was an air freshener."

  "Maybe."

  Deevers addressed the lawyer. "Jones, we'll be charging your client, Mrs. Howland, with being an accessory after the fact."

  "Now wait a minute. She's only an accessory if Ron were guilty. Which he isn't."

  "You'll agree she destroyed evidence?"

  The lawyer grudgingly nodded. "But that still doesn't make her an accessory."

  "She's an accessory to the murder, despite who she may have thought she was helping. You still intend to represent both of them?"

  "For the moment. Let me talk to my client."

  "Sure. Go ahead. We'll be talking to Ron." Deevers made for the door followed by Serengi.

  "Whoa, there. Ron needs representation before you talk to him again. Just hold on until I can make some arrangements."

  "How long do you think this will take?"

  "I'll have someone here in an hour."

  "All right. In the meantime, we'll make arrangements to keep your clients separated."

  Chapter 18

  Serengi stayed near the interview rooms while Deevers went off to get some coverage. He looked at his watch when Deevers returned. "Eat?"

  "Why not? Damn, I wish I could talk to Ron without this delay."

  "Let's see who Jones brings in on this. Flip a coin as to which one he'll stay with."

  "He'll stick with Ron and give the woman to the new guy."

  "Probably. Our case is weak. He'll want to come out a winner."

  "You know," said Serengi between bites of his home-fried chicken, "that air freshener thing bothers me."

  "Why's that?" Deevers wiped his mouth before picking up his sweet iced tea.

  "'Cause I don't recall a scent like that when I arrived."

  "Not surprised. Two more days of decaying body."

  "Yeah, got a point." He dug into his greens, grabbing a heaping forkful.

  "Still," said Serengi, "I want to check with BettyAnn. See if that household used fresheners."

  "Be my guest."

  Serengi put in a call to BettyAnn's service and left his cell phone number. When he got back to the table, Deevers had ordered seconds.

  BettyAnn called as they were paying up. She told Serengi that no fresheners were used. Raven was allergic to scents of any kind.

  "That makes it something worn by someone who entered the house." Serengi frowned, something drifting near the edge of his mind. Something. But what?

  "Haven't noticed either of these two wearing aftershave or perfume, have you?" asked Deevers.

  "No. But there's something vaguely familiar. How'd she describe it, again?"

  "Something about fruit? No, I think she said sharp, musty."

  "Lemony? Ah, citric, that's what she said. Now, what's that?"

  "Lemony, like furniture polish maybe?"

  "No, BettyAnn couldn't use that. How about lime?"

  "Limes? As a scent? That's funny," Deevers chuckled.

  "Maybe not," Serengi said, remembering a lime-like scent flowing behind a gentle white-haired lady.

  He filled Deevers in on what he was thinking and asked him to go delay Jones while he went and checked the gun registration records.

  The search was quick and the answer was as he'd begun to suspect. A .38 Special had been registered to Robert George three years earlier.

  Serengi conferred with Deevers. They wanted to keep the brother and sister separated while they checked out the new lead, but unless they charged them, it wasn't going to be easy to justify. They talked to Howland's new representative, informing him that at the least she could be charged as being an accessory by virtue of changing the crime scene. They informed him that things might go easier on her if something she'd told them checked out, but they needed an hour.

  The two lawyers conferred and agreed to give them an hour and no more.

  Chapter 19

  First they went to Raven's law firm and asked about the last time Mrs. George had seen Raven. The disposition of the firm had not yet been decided, everyone assumed it would be sold, but for the moment, the assistant informed them, the firm was still held to lawyer-client confidentiality.

  "Well, how about if you tell us if this was to read the will or a follow-up administrative detail meeting?"

  "I guess I can tell you that. Mr. Raven went over the contents of the George material we'd been holding in our vault: copy of the will and other materials."

  "So he read the will to her?"

  "He may have. Shouldn't have taken long, not much to it. This was preliminary anyway. The primary purpose was to let the survivor know what we'd been keeping here."

  "Do you know how long this took?"

  "I think it ran late. Mr. Raven, I know, was late leaving for his golf date."

  "You indicated you were holding more than a will?"

  "That's right. The George folder contained a few things beyond the will itself."

  "Do you have an inventory of what the other items might have been?"

  "Everything we have is inventoried."

  "May we see the list for the George material?"

  The assistant hesitated, then said he'd have to review it first before letting them see it. What should have taken no more than five or ten minutes took twenty. When the assistant returned he was holding a paper but also looked worried. It seemed one of the items listed on the inventory was missing from the file. He handed Serengi the list.

  Only three items were listed: the will, a 10x13 Tyvek envelope marked Robert George: personal and confidential, and a codicil dated two years earlier.

  "What's missing?" Deevers asked.

  "The envelope. I did notice, however," the assistant said, "the file was misfiled. And that's unusual."

  "Unusual, but not impossible," Deevers said.

  "Highly irregular for this office," he said.

  "Isn't it possible that Raven gave the envelope to Mrs. George?"

  "Certainly. But then he would have so indicated on the inventory sheet. And he would have had her initial it."

  "Being that he was late for his golf game..." Deevers commented.

  The look the lawyer threw Deevers would have shriveled any normal person. "You don't know Mr. Raven. He's a stickler for detail. No, detective, he would not have neglected to follow procedure."

  "Could someone have been in here over the weekend?"

  "Not without keys. Only two of us have a set and I wasn't in that weekend."

  Had Raven taken it home, they asked? Unlikely, was the response. Raven rarely took work home.

  "Do you remember anything about the envelope?" Serengi handed back the inventory list.

  "It was bulky. I don't think it contained papers, though."

  "Why's that?"

  "Whatever was in there was in bunches."

  They made one more stop on their way to see Mrs. George and that was to the local magistrate to get a search warrant for the .38 and the envelope. As probable
cause they listed Mrs. George as the last client to see Raven; ownership of the same type of gun used to kill Raven, and the missing envelope. They left out Serengi's suspicious nose. They were granted the warrant for the gun only. Serengi and Deevers decided to try the nice approach first.

  They found Mrs. George at home. Serengi introduced Deevers and let him do the talking. The lime scent tickled his nose.

  "Mrs. George, we understand that your husband had a revolver registered in his name. A .38 Special. Do you happen to know where it is?"

  "I haven't the slightest idea. He may have gotten rid of it. I kept after him to get it out of the house."

  Serengi began casually glancing around the living room, noting how many drawers there were.

  Deevers nodded. "On another note: did John Raven give you anything of your husband's when last you saw him?"

  "You mean the last time I went to his office?"

  "That's right, ma'am."

  "No. Was he supposed to?" Her lined face expressed puzzlement.

  "I couldn't say. How about a large envelope? Do you remember him showing you something like that with your husband's name on it?"

  "No.. What's this about?"

  "Did you go visit Mr. Raven the day after your office visit?"

  "Of course not. Why would I?"

  "I don't know ma'am. Perhaps to get that envelope your husband left?"

  "I don't know what envelope you're talking about."

  Serengi glanced back at the fireplace. Some curled debris lay in the back corners. Smaller fragments edged near the trap door that led to the chute for outside disposal. It was late Spring. The days had been mild, even hot. Was this a case of casual housekeeping or a recent fire? He excused himself and went outside.

  He found the small outside metal door giving access to the discarded ashes. With a pen tip he sifted through. There was a heap to go through. He pushed larger pieces to the side. One chunk looked like a melted driver's license: curled, but still decipherable. An Illinois license of a young male issued in 1990. One James Petrowsky.

  Serengi wrote that down and another name, Saredin Palavi, still visible on another charred item that may have once been a Detroit library card.

  He called in and initiated a search against both names. A check with the Illinois authorities confirmed that Mr. Petrowski had been missing since 1991. Palavi had gone missing two years before Petrowski.