Gage (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood #16)

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

I t was after three by the time they hit Dallas and pulled into the parking area for the police department handling Steven Dawkins’ case. The mood in the car on the longish drive had been somber and mostly quiet. Gage found himself thinking about the answers Suzanna had given him before they’d left the Boudreau ranch. His gut told him both she and her husband had been drugged, though he wasn’t sure with what and how they’d gotten it into their systems. The most likely possibility was the wine brought by the Blackthorns, but according to Suzanna, they drank from the same bottle.

His gut still told him Sandoval had a hand in this, but that was an avenue he’d yet to explore. He and Sandoval had history, which made things trickier. If Gustavo Sandoval got wind Gage was snooping around his business, things might get ugly. A huge grin crossed his face at the thought. Tangling with Sandoval again wouldn’t hurt his feelings, in fact he relished the thought.

“Why are you smiling, dude? You know something we don’t?” Bas leaned forward, his hands locked around the back of Suzanna’s seat. She turned toward him, waiting for his answer.

“Just looking forward to talking to Jansen. I really hope he doesn’t give us a hard time, because I’m in the mood to do a little damage.” Gage looked over at Suzanna. “Remember what you promised. You let me do the talking.” Gage almost laughed at her eye roll. “Do that again and they’ll stick that way.”

“Did she just roll her eyes at you?” Bas asked from the backseat.

“Yes.”

“Shut up, both of you. Let’s get in there before Jansen finds out I’m here and sneaks out the back way.” Suzanna opened her door and was out of the car before Gage could say another word. He sighed, really hoping Jansen didn’t give them a hard time because she was there. But from what she’d said, Jansen had a real problem with her, and it might be good to witness their interaction together. If Jansen wasn’t looking for anybody else because he had a preconceived idea that Suzanna was guilty, he might be able to work with that.

Walking to the front desk, he asked for Detective Jansen and was told he was on a call and they’d have to wait. Gage was used to that, usually trying to get to anybody at a busy police station was always a hurry-up-and-wait scenario, unless you knew somebody who could speed up the process. Most cops were overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated.

After fifteen minutes, Gage spotted a man headed their way. Hearing the accompanying groan from Suzanna, he was pretty sure the guy was Jansen. He looked about five foot eight or maybe nine, if he was being generous. Overweight with a bit of a belly, he still had a full head of dark hair threaded with silver. Middle age had caught up with him, and hadn’t been kind. A thick mustache over thin lips gave him the appearance of an eighties porn star more than a distinguished cop, and the ill-fitting suit didn’t do him any favors either.

Gage didn’t let his outward appearance sway his first impression. He’d learned that sometimes the smartest minds hid behind messed-up exteriors. Jansen deserved the benefit of the doubt, at least until Gage got a chance to hear the man out, find out what he had on Suzanna’s case.

“Detective Jansen?” At the man’s nod, he continued. “I’m Gage Newsome, and this is my associate, Sebastian Boudreau. And I’m sure you remember Mrs. Dawkins.”

Gage watched the man’s face change, as though a mask slid into place. Where he’d shown mild interest when he’d introduced himself, the second he’d spotted Suzanna, it was like his entire demeanor changed from professional to belligerent in a heartbeat. Without even acknowledging Suzanna, Jansen turned to Gage.

“Newsome? You’ve been leaving messages. I’ve got nothing to say on the case.”

Gage had figured that would be Jansen’s attitude, since the man had been dodging him for days. Easing his hand into his pocket, he pulled out his identification and flashed it at Jansen, watched the man’s eyes widen when he saw his credentials. While he had several different sets from his various stints with both the CIA and black ops, he rarely used this one, although it was an official badge and if checked, would show that he was an FBI agent.

“You sure you have nothing to say to me, detective? Because I’d be more than happy to speak with your division chief.”

Jansen huffed out an angry breath. “Let’s go somewhere quieter where we can talk.” He shot an angry glare at Suzanna, before asking, “You planning on taking over the case?”

“No, but I have been asked to look into the fact surrounding the case by an interested party. An informal, off-the-record conversation between two professionals, if you catch my drift; unless you’d like for me to assume jurisdiction over the Dawkins murder investigation. I’d like to discuss your findings and your impression of Mr. Dawkins murder.”

Jansen shot a blistering glare toward Suzanna. “Gonna be hard to talk freely in front of the prime suspect. Matter of fact, I don’t think it’s in the best interest of the investigation to allow her to be present. You want to know what I’ve got, she stays out here.”

Gage crossed his arms over his chest and sent a withering glare of his own toward Jansen. “Funny, I brought Mrs. Dawkins along so you could ask her any questions you might have. She’s agreed to fully cooperate and answer anything you’d like to ask. But if you’re not interested in having her front and center and fully willing to cooperate with an interrogation…” He deliberately let the bait dangle, waiting to see if Jansen was foolish enough to snatch it up.

Jansen took a deep breath before looking at Bas. “What about him? He work for the FBI too?”

Gage shook his head. “No, Mr. Boudreau works for Samuel Carpenter and Carpenter Security Services. He’s here investigating a completely different aspect to Mrs. Dawkins’ case. Were you aware that there was a kidnapping and attempted murder perpetrated on Mrs. Dawkins while she was in New Orleans a few days ago?”

The look of shock on Jansen’s face told Gage the other man had no clue about what happened in Louisiana. Personally, he still felt there was a connection between the two cases, but hadn’t been able to find the thread leading from one case to the other—yet.

“Looks like interrogation room 3 is open. Why don’t you head on in there, and let me grab my notes and I’ll be right with you.” He pointed them toward room 3, then bustled toward a desk in the corner, piled high with stacks of folders and manila envelopes. Gage couldn’t help wondering why so much paperwork was sitting around, when the DPD was highly computerized. Could be a backlog, or it could be that Jansen simply liked to do things old school with paper and ink.

He closed the door behind Bas, and pointed Suzanna to the chair behind a wooden table. There was the prerequisite video camera mounted in the corner, which he’d make sure was turned off for this little meeting. Not that he didn’t trust Jansen—who was he kidding, he didn’t trust the guy one iota. He’d already proven to have a definitive dislike for Suzanna and a dislike for the FBI. Two strikes and they hadn’t even gotten to the meaty part of the interview yet.

Jansen walked in with two manila file folders stuffed with papers in his beefy hands, and a tall, gray-haired man in a suit and tie, with the top button undone. Gage recognized him as the Special Operations Division Major. He hadn’t expected to run into him, especially since they’d met on a prior operation. This might throw a monkey wrench into the mix if he called out Gage’s identification and credentials. Not that they were fake—they weren’t—but when he’d worked with him before, he’d been undercover and not with the FBI on that case.

“Gage, good to see you again. Detective Jansen mentioned your name, said you’re here interested in the Steven Dawkins investigation.”

Gage stood and held out his hand. “Juan, good to see you too. As I mentioned to your detective, I’ve been asked to look into the case, provide any assistance I can. Unofficially, of course. Mrs. Dawkins agreed to come in and answer any questions Detective Jansen or you might have. She will provide her full cooperation. We are all on the same page, we want to find the person who murdered Steven Dawkins and bring them to justice.”

“Excellent. Well, I’ll let you get to your meeting. I have to deal with a stack of paperwork as high as your head. That’s the part of the job I hate.” He turned to Jansen. “Please cooperative fully with Mr. Newsome. If you need anything, come and see me.” With a nod to everyone, the division chief left.

“Let’s get started. I’d like to ask Mrs. Dawkins’ about—”

“I’d like to discuss your findings before you question Mrs. Dawkins. And I have a few questions of my own that we’ll go over once you’re finished.” Gage watched Jansen’s face turn beet red at the deliberate interruption. He’d already figured out Jansen was the type who wanted to command the room, wanted to dominate any conversation. Prove he was the big dog with the biggest bite. Poor schmuck had no idea who he was dealing with.

“You don’t understand, Mr. Newsome, this is the first time Mrs. Dawkins has agreed to answer questions since—”

“That’s blatantly untrue, detective. I answered your questions when you were at my house. While I was still in shock over finding my husband’s body, I might add. I answered your questions when I came to the station and did a formal interview, right up to the point where my attorney refused to let me any answer further questions, because you outright accused me of murdering my husband, and wanted to arrest me on the spot. So, don’t accuse me of not answering or dodging your questions.” Suzanna primly folded her hands on top of the table, a demure smile on her lips. Gage wanted to guffaw at Jansen’s frustrated expression.

“People, let’s not get started on the wrong foot. Detective, why don’t you outline for me the evidence you’ve compiled, without any accusations or interruptions,” Gage deliberately looked at Suzanna when he said that, hoping she’d get the hint. “This is an unofficial, off the record simple meeting of the minds.”

“Fine.” Jansen opened his folder, and pulled out several pages. “Steven Dawkins was killed. Multiple stabs to the neck, torso, and abdomen. There was a deep slash wound across the neck, severing the jugular and the carotid arteries. A knife was found on the floor covered with blood. The coroner, after examination of the body and the blade, stated that the knife was the weapon used to inflict the multiple wounds.”

“The murder weapon was found lying on the floor beside Dawkins body, is that correct? I understand Mrs. Dawkins’ fingerprints were found on the knife. Were there any other prints found?”

“No, only Mrs. Dawkins’ prints.”

Gage nodded. “Was there anything unusual about this knife? Was it an ornamental piece, something like a collector might have?”

“No, it was a large butcher knife. We late confirmed that it came from a knife block from the Dawkins kitchen set.”

“From their kitchen. Where it would have been handled by any number of staff. The cook, the housekeeper, the maid. Yet the only fingerprints found on the blade belonged to Mrs. Dawkins. You didn’t find that suspicious, detective?”

“You’ve been in fancy places before, Newsome, I’m sure. Everything is wiped down, including the silverware. I checked with the housekeeper, who said that each piece of silverware, cutlery, and utensils was polished before it was put away, which would have shown no fingerprints. Mrs. Dawkins was the only person who handled that blade after it was put back into the knife block.” Jansen’s smirk raised the little hairs on the back of Gage’s neck, but he kept his cool. Now wasn’t the time to point out the fallacy of his supposition that there would be no other fingerprints on the knife. Unless the housekeeper never touched the knife after polishing it, there would be at least her prints, unless she held it with the polishing cloth and used that to put it away. Which seemed highly unlikely.

“Can you tell me where the fingerprints were found on the knife, detective? Were they on the handle? The blade?”

Jansen flipped through his notes, frowning. If he was getting this frustrated so early in their meeting, things were going to go downhill fast, Gage thought.

“I don’t have that answer, but I’ll check and find out.”

“Thank you. Mrs. Dawkins stated that she was asleep when the maid came into the bedroom and found Mr. Dawkins’ body and screamed, is that correct?”

“That’s what she claims.” Jansen’s glare turned toward Suzanna. “Of course, we only have her word for it, since they were the only two people in the room.”

“I’m sure the maid gave you her account of what she saw and heard. Did she state that Mrs. Dawkins was asleep when she entered the room?”

“Yes, but she could have been faking it.”

“Good point. Did the maid offer her opinion as to whether Mrs. Dawkins seemed surprised or shocked to find her husband deceased?”

Jansen heaved a heavy sigh before answering. “Ms. Ortega stated Mrs. Dawkins appeared shocked. Screamed when she noticed the blood on her hands and on her clothing.”

“Did Mrs. Dawkins say or do anything after she noticed her husband wasn’t breathing? According to Ms. Ortega, that is.”

“She said that Mrs. Dawkins started screaming, and then climbed on top of her husband, pressing against his chest.”

Gage raised his brow. “Pressing on his chest? Do you mean she tried to perform CPR on her husband?”

“I don’t have any idea what she was doing. I hadn’t arrived yet and neither had the paramedics or EMTs. The maid didn’t know what she was doing except acting like a crazy woman—her exact words.”

“Acting like a crazy woman. You mean like someone who’d just discovered her husband’s body beside her in bed, and tried to help him. I wouldn’t construe those actions as crazy, detective, but the again we are looking at this situation secondhand. Please go on, what other evidence have you found in your investigation?” Gage glanced toward Bas, noting that he was making notes on his phone. Good man .

“We took statements from all the staff present in the home that morning.”

“Good. Were they able to tell you anything about what they’d seen or heard?”

“Unfortunately, no one saw anything out of the ordinary that morning. Nobody knew anything was wrong until they heard Ms. Ortega’s screams. The housekeeper came upstairs and when she saw what was going on, she called nine one one.”

“Excellent.” Gage walked around to stand behind Suzanna’s chair, lightly resting his hand on the back of it. “So, paramedics arrived and worked on Mr. Dawkins before declaring him deceased. Where was Mrs. Dawkins during all this?”

“She was in the back of a squad car, waiting for me and my partner to get to the scene.”

Gage straightened to his full height, a deep-seated heat beginning in his belly. “Are you telling me you had a woman whose husband had died, who was most likely in shock, covered in her husband’s blood, sitting in the back of a squad car? Did you slap on the handcuffs while you were at it?”

“Look, she was the prime suspect in the murder of a prominent social and political figure. She wasn’t under arrest, she was simply being held until we got there, so we could ask questions.”

Gage took a deep breath, biting back the scathing words wanting to spill from his tongue. This man, this whole investigation was a farce. Maybe there was more evidence he hadn’t heard or seen yet, but the case right now was so full of holes he could drive a Mack truck through it.

“Was she seen or evaluated by the medical staff in attendance?”

“I…I don’t know. Maybe? I’d have to ask the uniforms on the scene.”

“Okay, let’s skip ahead. What else can you tell me, detective? I have seen the death certificate. I’ve also read the autopsy report. It shows that you and your partner were in attendance at the autopsy.”

“That’s right.” Jansen puffed out his chest, and crossed his arms, his whole posture proclaiming his aggravation. “It’s required that police and/or a detective be present for the autopsy of all suspicious deaths. With the multiple stab wounds and the slit throat, Dawkins’ death was definitely not accident or caused by illness. So, yeah, I was there.”

“Have you attended many autopsies before Mr. Dawkins’?”

Jansen nodded, “Yeah, I’ve seen my fair share.”

“Did you notice anything you’d classify as unusual about Steven Dawkins autopsy?” Gage couldn’t wait to hear how Jansen tried to twist the autopsy findings. Oh, not the actual medical findings by the coroner, but how short the amount of time was on the official report.

Jansen shook his head. “Don’t think so. Honestly, it seemed like every other autopsy to me.”

“I see. Would you happen to have a copy of the autopsy report, detective?”

“Yes, it’s in my file.” Jansen fiddled with the papers, and pulled out the autopsy report. “It’s right here.”

“Perfect. Have you read it, looked over the official report?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve read it, too, detective, and something stood out for me. Jumped right off the page, you might say.”

Jansen started flipping through the pages of the report at Gage’s words, his frown growing more and more pronounced. “What? I’m not seeing anything.”

Gage sighed. “Look at the time, detective. At how long the autopsy took from start to finish. Thirty-five minutes. Now, I might not have any kind of medical training, but I’ve been an investigator long enough to know that an autopsy on a suspected homicide case takes a heck of a lot longer than thirty-five minutes, Wouldn’t you agree?”

All the color leeched from Jansen’s face as he started at the autopsy report. “That can’t be right. I was there and it definitely took more than thirty-five minutes.”

“Did it? Are you sure? It’s right there in black and white, thirty-five minutes.”

“I’m telling you, it has to be a mistake. I’ll call over to the medical examiner’s office and bring it to their attention.”

“That’s already being handled. I simply wanted to verify that thirty-five minutes was correct.” Gage watched Jansen closely, noted the nervous swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing each time.

“I don’t remember looking at my watch, but I’m absolutely sure it took longer than thirty-five minutes. At least an hour longer than that. Let me check with my partner, he attended with me.”

“I’m sure it will all be figured out. I do have another question regarding the night, or rather morning you interrogated Mrs. Dawkins. Did you notice anything—off—about her behavior? Did she seem possibly disoriented or not responding in a normal manner? Were her eyes glazed perhaps?”

“What are you implying?”

“Detective, I’m not implying anything, I’m simply looking for facts and evidence. We both know it’s evidence the prosecutors want and need to make a case to present to a Grand Jury. What other evidence have you procured in Steven Dawkins murder investigation?”

“Look, I know how to do my job—”

“Of course you do, Detective Jansen. Otherwise, I’d have a team in here right now taking over the case. You and I both know a case like this can make or break a career. Steven Dawkins was a big deal in the Dallas-Fort Worth area as well as the state. His company is worth billions of dollars. From all I’ve heard, you’re a good detective. I’m simply dotting all the I’s and crossing all the T’s because it’s my job, especially since I have to answer to people above me in the food chain. You know what I mean, right? They are already asking me about Dawkins’ business partner and Gustavo Sandoval of Sandoval Enterprises. They apparently were working on some type of merger or business meeting of the minds. I haven’t had a chance to talk to either yet. Maybe that’s something you could look into?”

Jansen’s head bobbed like one of those dolls you see at the carnival, and Gage knew he’d at least lit a fire under Jansen. He’d start digging, and if Gage played his cards right, he could point Jansen toward a different suspect. There were other people who clashed with Dawkins in business, including his partner, Donald Blackthorn. Toss Gustavo Sandoval into the mix as well, and you’ve got reasonable doubt that Suzanna had killed her husband.

“Jansen, if you don’t mind, I’d like a copy of anything you can provide to give to the New Orleans cops. They might be interested to see if anything ties in with the kidnapping attempt on Mrs. Dawkins a few days ago. They have one person in custody, but they are aware there is a second still loose. I’d love to see if there’s any kind of a connection.” Bas grinned as he added, “I love pulling all those loose threads, unraveling alibis, and really don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”

Jansen looked at Bas. “Who are you again? I know Newsome said you were a colleague, but…”

“Sebastian Boudreau. My friends call me Bas. I work for Carpenter Security Services. You might have heard of us. I’m currently on assignment as Mrs. Dawkins bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?”

“Yep. I was hired right after the kidnapper was arrested. He’d apparently been stalking here ever since she arrived in New Orleans. Possibly before, which is why I’d like to give NOLA PD your notes.”

Jansen sighed and gathered up his papers. “I’ll get that for you. Leave me your email address.”

Gage looked at Suzanna and winked before turning back to Jansen. “Do you have any questions for Mrs. Dawkins? I’m sure she’s willing to answer anything. She’s been very cooperative with filling in the blanks on my end.”

“Uh…I don’t…I appreciate Mrs. Dawkins willingness to answer any questions, and I’d like to set up a day and time to sit down and go over things, now that the dust has settled. But right now, I’ve got someplace I need to be.”

“Of course. We appreciate your time and cooperation, detective. We can see ourselves out.” Gage reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card with his phone number and email address. “You can contact me here if you have any questions, or find out anything else pertinent to the Dawkins case.”

Grabbing the card, Jansen was out the door like his feet were on fire. Gage looked at Suzanna, then a Bas, and finally checked the videocamera in the corner, making sure the light wasn’t on. It hadn’t been earlier, but it never hurt to double check.

“That went well.”

Suzanna looked at him like he’d lost his mind, but he knew in his gut when he got Jansen’s notes, he’d find some little kernel of fact mixed in with all the rhetoric that would lead him in the right direction. Sometimes in these types of cases, it wasn’t the quick sprint that got him to the finish line, it was the marathon. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure they had time for the long, slow race.

“Let’s go talk to Blackthorn.”