Four Page 6

  “I guess he keeps a spotlight on his boat in case anything happens so he can send up a signal for her. When she couldn’t reach him and didn’t see a signal, she got worried.”

  “What time did he disappear?”

  The Chief shook his head and said, “Right now, I have no idea. She’s been with the FBI all evening. All I know is the little bit I just gave you as it was leaked down to me.”

  Beckett grunted. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to deal with turf issues before.

  “Should I go nose around a little bit, see what I can find?”

  “I’ll do you one better. Guy that requested you is a local guy by the name of Chester Riley. He’s not the SAC, but he’s close. He’ll be able to point you in the right direction.”

  Again Beckett nodded. “What are you going to do?”

  The Chief glanced at him and slapped a hat down atop his head. “I’m going home to watch the Patriots.”

  “What about the SkyLine murder?”

  “Consider yourself off of it until this is resolved,” the Chief said, already walking away from them.

  Meeks watched him go until he was no longer visible and said, “Damn Lockjaw, you been ordered special request by the FBI.”

  “Yeah, well that could be because they want us here or because they need somebody to blame in case they don’t find anything,” Beckett said, turning and moving towards the boathouse illuminated in red and white light.

  “Just like that? Things don’t go to plan and we’re the scapegoat?”

  “Welcome to inner-agency politics,” Beckett said.

  He pushed forward and found a group of men standing shoulder to shoulder along the bank of the lake. Three of them wore blue windbreakers with FBI emblazoned in bright yellow on the back.

  Beckett could tell they were talking amongst each other, their voices too low to be heard. As they approached Beckett scraped the toe of his cowboy boot along the ground, making sure they were heard.

  The men on either end turned to see who was coming. One of them sneered and said, “FBI, we’re working here son.”

  The man couldn’t have been more than a month or two out of the academy and the comment irked Beckett immediately. He flashed his detective’s badge and said, “Boston police department. I’ve been doing this sort of thing since you were shitting yellow, so don’t call me son, boy.”

  The rest of the men turned and a short man with dark hair asked, “What can we do for you Detective?”

  “Detective Dern Beckett, this is my partner Devin Meeks. I was told to find a guy named Riley over here.”

  The man turned to the pack, excused himself and walked to Beckett and Meeks. He shook each of their hands in turn and said, “Special Agent Chester Riley, call me Chet.”

  He hooked a thumb back at the group and said, “Please forgive the new guys. This is the closest they’ve ever been to a crime scene and they’re dripping in their jeans as we speak.”

  Beckett contemplated making a similar reference to his partner, but decided against it.

  Right now Meeks was the only known ally he had.

  “So what do we know here?” Beckett asked.

  Riley sighed and said, “Right now, details are thin. Needless to say Mrs. Wilbanks is a wreck. Special-Agent-in-Charge Logan Winston escorted her back to our field office where she’ll be questioned in the morning.”

  The word choice raised Beckett’s eyebrows. “Is she a suspect?”

  Riley shook his head. “Not right now, though we’re not ruling out the possibility. By all accounts the two were happily married and she seems to be devastated. Our guess is if somebody wanted this guy dead, there are people with a little more clout out there than his wife.”

  “Did she call it in?”

  “Yeah, made the call shortly after ten. Said he left right after dinner for the lake, maybe six-thirty. Apparently it wasn’t all that uncommon for him to be gone hours at a time down here, but when it got dark and she couldn’t get hold of him she called the Sheriff.

  “He got out here about ten-thirty and threw a spotlight on the lake, saw Wilbanks’ boat sitting just a short piece down the way here. Called over a few times and shined the light, but when he couldn’t get a response he decided to walk down and see if everything was alright.

  “When he got down there he saw Wilbanks’ white long sleeve t-shirt bobbing in the water and went straight in after him. Pulled him from the water and called 911, tried reviving him as the ambulance was on its way.

  “By that point, looks like Wilbanks had been under for quite some time. He was already cold and bloated, his face and hands dark where the blood had started to settle.”

  Beckett cast his gaze out over the lake. “I’m guessing the Sheriff is at the field office as well?”

  “He is,” Riley said. “Depending on the state of Mrs. Wilbanks tomorrow, we’ll be speaking with him in the morning or in the early afternoon.”

  “What else have we got right now?”

  Riley motioned towards the lake and said, “Unfortunately, not a whole hell of a lot. We’ve got the Coast Guard dragging the place right now, but with it being dark we won’t really know much until morning. We’re actually wrapping things up for the night.”

  Beckett motioned to Meeks and said, “Mind if the two of us sit in on those chats in the morning? I know this is your shindig, I would just like to be around to hear the stories.”

  “By all means,” Riley said and removed a business card from his wallet. “Our address is on the bottom, we’ll probably begin around nine o’clock tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Beckett said and took the card, then turned on his heel and motioned for Meeks to follow.

  “That’s it? That’s all we’re doing here tonight?” Meeks asked as soon as they cleared the commotion of the scene.

  “All we can do tonight,” Beckett said.

  “All we can do? Hell, we didn’t do anything.”

  “Yeah we did,” Beckett said without breaking stride. “We established that right now the FBI is willing to let us be involved, which is why they agreed to let us sit in tomorrow.”

  “And this is good?”

  Beckett ignored the question. “We also established that right now the FBI doesn’t know dick.”

  Meeks furrowed his brow and said, “What makes you so sure? Maybe they were playing dumb to keep us off their turf.”

  “Definitely not. Right now they still have Mrs. Wilbanks listed as a possible suspect, which means they’re clutching at straws.

  “That woman had way too much to lose from the death of her husband to pull something like this. Besides, if it was her it would have been a stabbing or a gunshot in the house. There’s no way she would have lured him down here to try and drown him.”

  “She could have hired somebody to do it.”

  Beckett shook his head again. “Remote possibility, but very unlikely. If a woman in her position was going to kill her husband, it would have to be spontaneous. An act of passion.

  “The kind of thing you’re talking about would take cold blooded precision and planning.”

  Meeks nodded and walked on, mulling the information. “I suppose you’ve got some ideas about what happened here then?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got some theories...”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Man, I really expected better than this. I mean you guys are the FBI, this is the best you can do?” Meeks said.

  “It’s coffee and it’s free, what more do you want?” Riley said as he and Beckett stood three across in the observation room and watched Logan Winston speak with Marcia Wilbanks.

  “Couldn’t y’all have called in some Dunkin Donuts or something?” Meeks asked, swirling heavy coffee grinds in the bottom of a Styrofoam cup before tossing them back.

  This time Riley didn’t bother to reply and silence fell over the group as they watched Winston with Marcia.

  The two couldn’t have been a more mismatched pair. Winston was large and thick with bro
ad shoulders, a square jaw and short brown hair that was combed straight across his head.

  Marcia was small and delicate, with thin wrists and a fair complexion. Her blonde hair was tussled and her face was still puffy and void of makeup.

  She was also clearly intimidated by the larger Winston.

  “So what do you think?” Riley asked, half cocking his head in Beckett’s direction.

  “If she’s making this up, she deserves an Oscar,” Beckett said.

  Riley nodded as they continued to watch from behind the two-way mirror. The microphone was turned as loud as it would go to pick up the tiny voice of Marcia and the sound of Winston’s deep baritone reverberated in the room.

  “So you yourself didn’t go down to the lake at all?” Winston asked in a voice that wasn’t openly hostile, but not far off.

  Marcia shook her head. “No, I didn’t. When Kelly didn’t come home, I got worried and called Davey.”

  “Davey, ma’am?”

  “Sheriff Ames. We went to elementary school in the area together. He’s always been Davey to me.”

  Winston nodded. “I see, and what made you worried? Worried enough to involve the law?”

  A blank expression crossed Marcia’s face. “At the time I didn’t think of it as calling the law. Sheriff Ames lives only a few miles away and he and Kelly are good friends. It was more like asking a neighbor for help.”

  Beckett shook his head, disgust apparent on his face. “We should wrap this up and let this poor woman grieve. Right now we’re doing nothing but badgering her.”

  Riley arched an eyebrow in his direction. “Anything you can think of we should ask before we cut her loose?”

  Beckett pondered the question before shaking his head. “Not right now. If we need anything we can just come ask her, she’s not going anywhere. She’s a fallen Congressman’s wife, she’ll be easier to find than the First Lady.”

  A few minutes later Winston concluded his questioning and bid Marcia the condolences of himself and the FBI. He sent her on her way and stepped into the viewing room with the others.

  “That Sheriff here yet? I’d like to go ahead and take a crack at him.”

  His voice was still on the edge of hostility.

  Riley shook his head and jerked a thumb towards Beckett and Meeks. “This is Detectives Beckett and Meeks from the Boston Police Department. They’re here at my request to observe, point out anything they notice.”

  Winston gave each of them an once-over that dripped with contempt, stopping for an extra second on Beckett’s boots and jeans. “Glad to have you on board. You boys let me know if there’s anything we can be doing better.”

  Winston let the comment resonate in the air for a second before turning back to Riley. “Bring me the Sheriff.”

  He turned on his heel and went back into the interrogation room, closing the door behind him.

  “What a prick,” Meeks muttered under his breath.

  An almost imperceptible nod from Beckett was the only reply.

  Riley left the room as Winston’s door closed and returned a moment later with a man Beckett assumed to be Sheriff Ames. He nodded at Beckett and Meeks as he went through, a small smile crossing his face.

  Whatever Beckett was expecting Ames to be, this wasn’t it.

  Marcia Wilbanks had said she went to grade school with Ames, but he looked to be at least ten years her senior. Thin blonde hair had bits of grey in it and his face was lined like that of a man that spent his days squinting into harsh sunlight.

  Ames entered the interrogation room and greeted Winston, shaking his hand and helping himself to a seat across the table. He glanced a few times at his own reflection in the glass, fighting the urge to wave at the men he knew were behind it.

  Winston for his part started out cordial enough. “So how did it come to be that you found yourself at Lake Keller last night?”

  Ames gave a half twist of his head. “Marcy called and told me she was worried something might be wrong with Kelly. Said he had gone fishing several hours before but she hadn’t heard from him.

  “Asked if I would stop by and have a look.”

  “Marcy? Kelly?” Winston asked.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Wilbanks. They are old friends of mine, that’s how I am used to thinking of and referring to them, not as the subject of an investigation. My apologies.”

  Winston waved the apology off with a beefy hand. “No need to be sorry. So you are familiar with the Wilbanks family?”

  The moment the question was out, Beckett could sense where it was going.

  “That son of a bitch.”

  Riley leaned towards him without taking his gaze from the room. “What?”

  “Winston’s insinuating the Sheriff had something to do with this.”

  Riley shifted his attention to Beckett and said, “Aw, he wouldn’t do that. If he did, it would be because he had a concrete reason to.”

  Beckett narrowed his eyes and shook his head from side to side, waiting for Winston to continue.

  Inside the room, Ames nodded. “Like I said, we all go way back. I’ve known Mar, er, Mrs. Wilbanks since we were kids, grew up not far from here together. I met Mr. Wilbanks when the two of them started dating, was an usher at their wedding.”

  “I see,” Winston said. “And during your years as a friend of the Wilbanks, was it common for Mrs. Wilbanks to call and ask you over? Ask favors of you from time to time?”

  Ames scratched his head and said, “Not uncommon, if that’s what you mean. She and my wife are friends and they speak quite often, but most of the time Mr. Wilbanks calls me if he needs a favor or anything.”

  “So you and Mr. Wilbanks were quite close as well?”

  Ames opened his mouth to answer the question, then closed it. “You know, just because I am only a town Sheriff and not the FBI doesn’t make me an idiot. I chose this profession so I could do what I love and stay near the people and places that I love.”

  Winston sat back from the table and raised his hands by his sides. “Sheriff Ames, I’m quite certain I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The jovial nature was gone from Ames as he leaned forward and placed a balled fist on the table.

  “I know exactly where you’re going with this and I can tell you now you’re a bastard for even thinking such a thing.

  “Last night my friend called me because she was worried about her husband. People around here know they can call me when something’s not right. It’s my job as a Sheriff and as their friend.

  “I went over to check out the scene and noticed Kelly’s boat floating off the shore a short ways down. When I couldn’t get him on his cell phone I tried flagging him down with a spotlight. When that didn’t work, I took off walking.

  “I spotted Kelly’s white shirt floating in the water as I approached and without thinking jumped in after him. I drug him to shore and tried to revive him.

  “When he didn’t come to I tried using my cell to call for help, but it was ruined from jumping in the water. I ran to my truck and called for help using the police radio, then sprinted back and continued trying to resuscitate him.

  “The second the ambulance arrived I gave him over to them and they tried for a few minutes, but it was no use. He had been dead for several hours already, his body already starting to bloat from floating in the water.

  “I went to my car and called the station, told them to contact you guys and every other law enforcement agency in the area and have them send the hounds of hell themselves. As soon as one of my deputies arrived, I went to the house to deliver the news to Marcy.

  “She didn’t deserve to hear what had happened to her husband in her own backyard on television.”

  Anger dripped from every word Ames said and as soon as he was finished he stood and snatched his hat from the table. “A few minutes later you boys arrived, you know the rest from there.”

  Winston tried calming Ames, but he shrugged him off and strode for the door. He pushed it open and sto
pped for a second in the doorway, glaring back at his interrogator.

  “I hope to hell you didn’t pull that kind of stunt with Marcy. Poor woman deserves better than this shit.”

  He scowled at the men watching as he stomped by, his footfalls loud against the tile floor. As he departed, Beckett flashed his detective’s badge, giving a tiny jerk of his head towards the parking lot.

  Ames nodded his head less than an inch upward before continuing on outside.

  The door behind them creaked in protest as Winston stepped from the room, his face a tinge pink. “Well now, that could have gone better.”

  Beckett shook his head and said, “You basically called the widow of a United States Congressman a whore and an upstanding protector of the law an adulterer. How did you expect it to go?”

  Winston’s face grew two shades darker. “Mr. Riley, I do believe the time has come for you to be showing our guests to the door.”

  Meeks snorted as Beckett said, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll show ourselves out. Some of us actually know how to find what we’re looking for.”

  Winston grew even darker and Riley’s jaw dropped open as Beckett left the room, Meeks on his heels. They stayed quiet as they passed through the halls and as they reached the main lobby Meeks whispered, “Was that such a good idea? Pissing off the FBI like that?”

  Beckett shook his head as he pushed open the front door. “Doesn’t matter, we don’t need those guys anyway. All they were going to do is bog down my investigation.”

  “The eff-bee-eye,” Meeks said, drawing each letter out to a full syllable, “was going to bog down your investigation?”

  “Did I stutter?”

  Meeks smirked again. “Mr. Lockjaw, you may not have brains but you’ve got some brass balls. So what the hell do we do now?”

  Beckett glanced at him and pointed towards the parking lot. “I’m thinking we go talk to him.”

  Meeks started to ask who, but stopped as he noticed what Beckett was pointing at.

  Sheriff Ames leaning against the hood of their Crown Vic.