Buried Secrets Can Be Murder: Charlie Parker Mysteries, Book #14 (The Charlie Parker Mysteries) (10 page)

Before she vanished, though, there was the highly publicized trial, with pictures of the defendant walking with her lawyers into court. They’d made sure she was dressed conservatively in plain slacks and schoolmarm blouses, with her dark hair in a demure ponytail and minimal makeup. She cleaned up well and looked nothing like the disheveled version of herself in the mug shot. Guilty or innocent, they all usually manage to look respectable in court.

I found a long piece that pretty well summarized the history and read through that. It painted the picture of a model family—the good-looking husband a success with a giant tech company, wife who adored him, two beautiful children. Most of the photos showed the children in endearing poses. America fell in love with those kids and was disgusted with the mother, with her air of detachment during the whole affair. On the day they disappeared she had let them play alone in the back yard of their upscale suburban home. That in itself was practically portrayed as a crime, and I felt a stab of sorrow for the way society had become. I used to roam my entire neighborhood, climb the trees, ride bikes for miles with my friends. The restrictions on kids these days were a sad reflection on the times. I scrolled down the page.

On the day the children disappeared, Boyd Donovan came home from work around four o’clock, earlier than usual. It was a rare sunny Seattle day and he thought they could take the kids to the park. According to the police who questioned him later, Tali was a little flustered to see him. When he said he wanted to check on the kids, she grabbed his arm. That’s when she admitted they weren’t there.

She told him—and stayed with her story throughout—that the kids had been playing in the yard, she’d gone inside to answer the telephone, and when she came back they were gone. She swore she hadn’t been inside more than ten minutes although she admitted that she couldn’t see the entire yard from where she’d been standing as she talked. She became edgy and finally said that as she came out of the house she thought she saw a man, wearing dark clothing and a hooded sweatshirt, running through the forest behind the property.

Boyd immediately called the police and reported that the children had been kidnapped. Alerts went out all over the city and extensive searches were conducted but there was no sign of the little ones. No ransom calls ever came, as one might expect when it involved a highly successful family, and no bodies were ever found.

What led to the trial of Tali Donovan were her numerous suspicious behaviors. Why hadn’t she called Boyd and the police the second she discovered the children missing? Why had she lied to him when he first got home? Why hadn’t she brought the telephone outside so she could keep an eye on them? And why didn’t she ever cry during all the ordeal?

I scrolled through the details of the trial. It appeared that Tali had gotten the best team of criminal defense attorneys the Donovans could afford. They pointed out the complete lack of real evidence that the children weren’t alive and well somewhere. The kidnapper had probably acted on behalf of some childless couple who had admired the children and wanted them for their own. Naturally they would not make a ransom demand or come forward to admit what they’d done. For all anyone knew, the Donovan children were living in Switzerland or Croatia or somewhere, happily settling in with new parents. It was enough reasonable doubt to win Tali Donovan her freedom.

It wasn’t enough to allay the suspicions of the public, though. According to the host of press stories after Tali walked out of the courtroom, a free woman, she began receiving death threats. More than once signs appeared on the front lawn of their home, with inflammatory words painted blood red.

Chapter 10

I heard voices downstairs, and went down to find Ron and Chet in the kitchen. Bless them, they’d stopped for bagels. I helped myself to one and we decided to convene in the conference room where we could spread papers out on the table.

Chet carried a large briefcase with him and from it he pulled a thick file. The ten-inch stack of paper was bound with brown board covers and metal brads, which held it all together by holes drilled in the top of all the sheets.

“That’s just the homicide department’s file,” he said. “Transcripts of the interviews and such. The actual trial records fill boxes.”

He pulled out a thick manila envelope. “These are the photos we took inside the house, all over the back yard and woods. I keep hoping some little clue will fall into place and give me the answers I need.”

I took the envelope and pulled out the sheaf of pictures. I began sorting them by subject—the home, the surrounding outdoors, the trial and afterward. I got my first look at Tali in different settings and of her husband, Boyd Donovan.

Boyd was tall, with close-cropped dark hair. He looked somber throughout the trial. No camera ever caught him smiling, nor did they find an ounce of accusation in his demeanor when he interacted with his wife.

“Within two weeks after the verdict, the house in Seattle went up for sale and Boyd purchased another in California,” Chet said. “He’d apparently courted another tech giant company that was more than willing to ignore a scandal two states away in order to bring Boyd’s inventive genius into their corporate fold. When reporters pressed him on the subject, it was notable that Boyd only referred to the move in terms of himself. No mention that Tali would accompany him. The marriage was over.”

Somehow, that wasn’t surprising. But did it mean Boyd wasn’t somehow involved?

“Tali Donovan went away and soon vanished from sight. The reporters tried hard but they couldn’t seem to figure out where she’d gone. Some made the point that she’d been through a horrible ordeal and that the world should leave her alone.”

Indeed, in the last known grainy photo of Tali, her face was puffy and she wore dark glasses and a scarf. Clearly, she was far more upset over losing her husband and home than she’d been at losing her children. I said as much to Flowers.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He shook his head. “That little lady was flat-out cold. I sat in that courtroom every day. Found myself a seat where I could watch her. If she noticed the judge or jurors watching she’d sniff into a handkerchief, but most of the time she fiddled with her fingernails, twisted her fingers around in knots, kicked at the legs of her chair. Sometimes, after her lawyers offered an objection to some testimony, she’d turn around in her chair and sneak a little smile toward her husband, sitting there in the front row. It was creepy.”

“Were there cameras in the courtroom?” Ron asked.

“No. A few sketch artists were allowed in, but since Tali didn’t testify and Boyd wasn’t called either, there wasn’t much for them to draw.”

“I’m surprised the jurors didn’t clue in to the smiles and her nonchalant attitude,” I said.

“I think in a lot of ways they did,” Chet said. “But in the end it came down to the actual evidence. And, like I told you yesterday, there wasn’t enough.”

“So, what was the most damning evidence?”

“The last time witnesses can swear to seeing the children alive was that morning. A few neighbors saw Tali drive away with them in the car around midday, both strapped into their car seats. One older woman thought she saw them come back home later, but no one could back that up even though it’s a neighborhood where a lot of people are home during the day. Stay-at-home moms and retirees, mostly. Of course, the defense attorneys grilled the witness until she could no longer be sure what she saw.”

“Not a peep from the kids after that?”

“Well, not quite. The woman who lived immediately to the east of their house said she thought she heard the children playing outdoors. She couldn’t be a hundred percent sure it was the Donovan kids and she’s a little unclear about the time. She was watching a talk show on TV and only heard the small voices when she muted her TV volume during a commercial. It was between two and three p.m. which agrees with Tali Donovan’s story. The transcript of her interview is in there.” Flowers indicated the brown-clad file.

“Tali said they were playing outside in the leaves and she went in to answer the telephone,” I said.

“That’s another thing that doesn’t gel. We checked the phone records on their landline and on her cell phone. Neither company shows any calls going in or out after 11:37 that morning.”

“So, wait. She didn’t call anyone
after
she discovered the children were missing either?”

“Not until her husband got home in the late afternoon. She claimed that she’d only realized they were gone a few minutes earlier and was too shaken to think what to do.”

“Wow,” Ron said. “Doesn’t that speak volumes, in itself?”

“You would think so. But when our detective testified about the phone records, the defense attorney twisted it around and got the jurors so confused that many of them came away with the idea that Tali’s husband had left his phone at home that day, and that she’d probably gone inside to answer that. As I said, the prosecution wasn’t very well prepared or they would have had his phone records too.”

It sounded like a mess to me.

“Tell us just what you’d want us to do, Chet. What can we accomplish here in Albuquerque?”

The detective shifted in his chair. “We have reason to believe Tali Donovan might have chosen New Mexico when she ran from Washington state. She could very well be right here in the city.”

My gaze dropped to the mug shot photo. It gave me a little chill to think of this woman living nearby.

“She had family here,” Chet continued. “Her mother and a sister in Santa Fe. Her name is in the file. My interviews with them went absolutely nowhere. The women of that family pulled together during the trial and none of them would say a word against Tali. Two sisters and their mother. Apparently her father had passed away some years earlier. Mom went all moral on us, claiming to be a God-fearing Christian woman who’d raised her kids right. Tali would never do a thing like this and it was horrible of the police to even think such a thing.”

The way he mimicked a fanatical sounding woman at the last part almost made me laugh.

“Between the three of them and the fact that at the time Boyd Donovan wouldn’t talk either, we didn’t have one single person who was close to her that might have given us something valuable.”

I mulled all this over.

“So, what I’m hoping you can accomplish is to contact Babe Freizel, that’s Tali’s sister in Santa Fe, and see if you can somehow work your way in. Maybe time has worked its magic on some of them, just as it did with Boyd Donovan, and one of the sisters will have a change of heart about talking to us. As a woman, Charlie, I’m hoping you can bring out some kind of a need to confide.”

It was a tall order. These women had their shared history to bind them. But if it’s true that there is no honor among thieves, maybe there are no truly buried secrets among conspirators either. I’d certainly be willing to give it a try.

“I’m looking for two things as we search,” Chet said. “One is to locate Tali. We can’t apprehend her until we can firm up some charges and have the evidence to back it up. But we need to know where she is. Once I have my evidence I want to be able to swoop in.”

“So, if we happen to catch her hanging out at her sister’s house in Santa Fe we don’t confront her or tip her that we’re still working the case?”

“Right. Secondly, we need to find the remains of those kids. I’ll be working that angle up in Seattle. With bodies, we can surely find a lot more evidence. How they died, who had access to the gravesite, that kind of thing.”

“You’re really sure they’re dead, aren’t you?”

“As sure as I’m sitting here. Those poor babies didn’t live out the remainder of the day they vanished.”

I brought up the question that had been nagging at me. “What about Boyd Donovan? Are you absolutely sure he didn’t do it?”

Flowers started to take a sip from his coffee but discovered the mug was empty. “I never say never, Charlie. But I’m about as certain of this as a cop ever gets. For one thing, virtually everyone in Donovan’s office says he was there all day. He did go out at lunch, but it was with another guy in his department. The alibi seems airtight. Plus, if you could see this guy now. He’s wracked with guilt over standing by Tali at the time. He’s spending pretty much his life savings to investigate this and bring her to justice. I watched him five years ago, and I’ve seen him as recently as last month. The man is a shell of his former self. He was on top of the world back there at
Lightastic
Chip in Seattle. He took a lesser job just to get out of the area, and I found out that he’s been demoted in that. Drinks a lot more now. I think the only thing keeping him going is that he needs—I mean,
really needs
—to find those two children and give them a decent burial. The guy needs answers more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

I nodded. I got nothing but honest vibes from Chet and his gut feeling was good enough for me. I offered to make more coffee but Chet said he had to get going.

“I’ll leave these files with you. I’ve got duplicates at home. Plus, this way I don’t have to lug this case onto another plane with all that weight in it.” He gave a grin and stood up. “We’ll stay in touch.”

Ron left to drive the detective to the airport and I gathered the massive file and the envelope of photos. Seeing Sally’s clear desk and her empty chair reminded me with a jolt that I’d never gotten out yesterday to see her in the hospital. Ross had never called to let me know that all was well. Oh, gosh, what if she was still in labor?

I looked up his number in my files and dialed it.

“Oh, Charlie,” he said. “I am so sorry I never got back to you. It was a false alarm. We’re home now, baby still inside.”

I felt relieved that everything was okay, sorry for Sally that she was still walking around with her giant tummy. Ross handed the phone over to her and we talked for a few minutes. I could hear Chrissie fussing in the background. It must be lunch time.

Upstairs in my office I started a customer file for Chet Flowers and logged the hours we’d spent together this morning, as he’d instructed me to. All expenses would be passed along to Boyd Donovan, and I almost felt guilty billing the man who’d experienced such tragedy in his life. But then I usually feel sorry for all our clients in some way.

I considered the best way to start. Despite my assertions that Ron was really the investigator in the firm, sometimes clients needed a woman’s touch—as Chet Flowers had just pointed out—and I often found myself more involved that I ever intended. And I must admit that sometimes pure curiosity grabs me.

Before simply barging in on Babe Freizel, Tali’s sister in Santa Fe, I needed both a plan for my cover story and some additional background information. Boyd Donovan knew Tali’s extended family personally, plus he was a key player in the whole scenario. I found his number among Chet’s notes and picked up the phone.

A raspy voice answered, a guy who didn’t sound quite as though he’d had his morning coffee yet. I calculated the time; it was after eleven a.m. in California. I tried to reconcile the voice with the photo I had in front of me of a tall clean-cut man in a business suit and striped tie.

Once I’d introduced myself and explained how RJP Investigations was connected with Chet Flowers, Donovan cleared his throat and perked up.

“I’ve been assigned to approach Babe Freizel and see what information I can get about her sister’s whereabouts,” I began. “I’m looking for any tips on working with her.”

He made a scoffing sound. “Don’t count on working
with
her, when it comes to getting at Tali. They stick together like glue.”

Just as Chet had told us. “Can you tell me something about each of them?”

I could hear kitchen sounds in the background; he was probably getting a cup of that much-needed coffee and getting ready to settle in for a story.

“There’s their mom, Roxanne Freizel. She was widowed fairly young and raised the three girls on her own. To say they stick together is a little mild. Call it clannish, an exclusive little clique.” He paused a moment and I heard a slurp. “The oldest daughter is Babe. She’s ten years older than Scout who is two years older than Tali. Scout and Tali might as well have been twins—they’re that close. They both had little birthmarks, light tan. Scout’s was on her shoulder, Tali’s in the middle of her back. She joked that it was the thumbprint of God.”

“I understand Scout lives in Santa Fe now?”

“No, that’s Babe,” he said. “Well, I think so anyway. Since I moved to California I haven’t heard boo from any of that family. Not that I wanted to. The whole thing was a nightmare for me. But you would think . . .”

I murmured something sympathetic.

“Scout married Dave Stiles at the same time Tali and I married. It was a double ceremony, at the girls’ insistence. I thought it was a little strange but, you know, kind of romantic too. Tali was so devoted to me and I saw the same thing in Scout with her new husband. I don’t know . . . I guess we were all just young and a little deluded about life.”