“Here’s things to add,” I said to Rodney when he came in. “From memory. Put all this wherever it fits on the board.”

Rodney listened and transcribed my summary with dates and events posted on the timeline.

“Willa,” I called out to the outer office. “Would you go across the street and get me some breakfast? The V8 is starting to work.”

“Sure,” she called back.

Willa left, and I continued to recite things for Rodney to post on the whiteboard.

My cell phone rang. It was the pay phone at Ray’s Diner on the caller ID. Had to be Bunny.

“What?” I said.

“Stan, I’m sorry.” She was still kind of weepy.

“Apology noted. Have a good time on your date.”

I hung up the cell phone.

Willa came in with breakfast. “Was that what I thought it was?” she asked.

“Depends on what you thought it was,” I said.

“Sounded like you blowing off Bunny. That’s long overdue.”

“Willa, I don’t need Dear Abby just now.”

“Yes, you do,” she said with a firm tone. “You don’t want my advice, but here it is for what it’s worth.”

I started to interrupt, but she said, “Shut up and listen. She’ll beg you to take her back but don’t do it. Not right away. That’s what she’s counting on. Good old Stan, always there when she needs him, always in reserve. She’s keeping you in the bank for when times are slow.”

That was what Sammy had said.

“Willa—”

“She needs to learn that you never know what you have until you’ve lost it. I never appreciated my husband while he was here.”

Willa’s husband had died a while back.

“And quit getting drunk over it. That doesn’t get a woman back. It sure doesn’t keep her. As you should know by now.”

“End of lecture?” I asked.

“For now,” she said.

I shook my head and turned back to the whiteboard.

“What’s left?” I asked Rodney.

“I think that covers it, Uncle Stanley. What are you going to do next?”

“I’m going to see if I can question the four suspects that live with Buford.”

“Can I go along and observe?”

“No. That doesn’t work. An interrogation team works in sync. We know by instinct from working together what questions each other will ask and when. We know when one should step down and the other take over. We complement each other.”

“Sure. Good cop, bad cop. I know how that works. I watch TV.”

“You aren’t ready for that, and private investigation rarely uses those techniques anyway. We don’t work murder cases. The only reason we have this one is the cops think they got it closed, and we think they got it wrong.”

“What can I do?”

“Stay here at your computer and collect everything you can find on Sanford, Ramon, Missy, and Serena. I got no background on any of them except that Sanford used to be a lawyer with the mob, and Ramon is an illegal alien.”

Rodney was typing on his laptop, making notes.

“One more thing. Vitole was shaking down other guys in witness protection. Maybe one of them bumped him off. Get into the Marshals site, and do a search. Pull the names of witness protection clients who have relocated somewhere around here and are still alive. If we can point suspicion at any upstanding citizens like that, maybe we can create reasonable doubt for Buford.”

Chapter 24  

I went again to Buford’s residence for the hard part, interrogating the client’s friends and family. Buford was on the patio in his bathing trunks. The ankle bracelet had chafed the skin on his shin just above his foot as he’d said. His ankle was big like the rest of him. The bracelet was in its largest buckle setting and, even so, pinched his skin.

“Your nephew seems to be good at hacking into shit,” he said. “You think he can get this thing off me?”

“Maybe. One time he took the boot off his car’s wheel that the cops had put on.”

“That’s good. What did he do with it?”

“He changed the pins in the tumbler lock so they couldn’t open it. Then he put the boot on a police cruiser parked in front of a doughnut shop.”

“Man, that kid has balls. What kind of trouble did that get him in?”

“I intervened. He got community service and no record.”

“You’re a good uncle.”

“I am.”

“So, what about this bracelet?”

“I’ll ask him.”

I doubted that Rodney could do much about the bracelet. They go out of their way to make them tamper-proof.

“Thanks for taking care of that wise guy,” I said.

“Thank Sanford.”

“You think I’ll get more visits?”

“Not likely. He probably didn’t tell anyone about you. They usually wait until the job is done. Don’t bother the bosses with details. Just results.”

That was a huge relief. It wasn’t a guarantee, but if anyone knew how the mob operated, Buford did.

“I need a private place to talk to your people,” I said.

“How about my study? If they don’t cooperate, you can take a gun off the wall and shoot them.”

I went into the study and sat at the giant desk. While I waited for my first interrogation subject, I called Rodney.

“You think you can remove a house arrest ankle bracelet without triggering its alarm?”

“I don’t know, Uncle Stanley. I’d have to look at it.”

“Next chance you get, make an appointment to come see Mr. Overbee. If you can do it, there’ll be a bonus.”

Buford sent Ramon in first.

“Ramon,” I said. “Sit down.” He did. “I am collecting information related to where everyone was when Mr. Vitole got shot. Where were you that morning?”

“I was here all day, Señor. Sanford and I were playing pool.”

“Who won?”

“Sanford did. It is advisable to let Sanford win.”

“Mr. Overbee says you play chess. Can you beat Sanford at that?”

“He will not play me.”

“You’re very loyal to Mr. Overbee.”

“Si, Señor. He is my benefactor. He is trying to get me a green card and eventually citizenship.”

“So you’d do anything to protect him.”

“Anything.”

“Did you know he was having problems with Mr. Vitole?”

“No, I did not. I knew he was having problems with someone.”

“Weren’t you here the day I told him about Mr. Vitole?”

“Si, Señor, I was here, but I do not listen when Señor Overbee discusses business.”

“Thank you, Ramon. That’s all I have for now. Bring me black coffee, please.”

Ramon left and Missy came in.

“Dad’s got us lined up out there like in a doctor’s waiting room.”

“Miss Curro, where were you the morning Mr. Vitole was shot?”

“Serena and I were shopping.”

“Okay. I don’t need you to prove it to me, but if the cops ask, is there anyway you can substantiate where you were?”

“They can ask Serena.”

“Yeah, but you are each other’s alibi. They’d want corroborating evidence.”

“Easy. Look at my Dad’s credit card account. Serena practically bought out Belksdales.”

“And you?”

“I didn’t even buy lunch. But Serena will tell you I was with her.”

Missy left, and Ramon came in and put a pot of coffee and a cup on the table. He poured me a cup and left.

Usually in a situation like this, the tendency is to cut corners, save time, and not interview a corroborating witness. I would expect Serena to say what Missy said she would say. But experience had taught me to expect the unexpected. And, besides, it was Serena. I wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to look at her again. I asked her to come in.

The young woman was so beautiful that I found it difficult to concentrate. She was wearing that same bikini with the white terrycloth robe hanging off her shoulders. When she sat, she crossed her legs so that the robe fell off them such that they were on full display to her best advantage. I am a weak man. I was ready to believe anything she said. I have to work on that.