J. Jance - Deadly Stakes

Ali held up a finger, pausing Molly’s statement long enough to make a note of the name and contact information which Molly supplied from memory.

“When Gemma didn’t show up for their match,” Molly continued, “Val went by Gemma’s place to check on her. Her car was in the garage. Her front door was unlocked and standing open. The alarm wasn’t on. Gemma’s purse and car keys were there, and so was her phone, but she wasn’t. That seemed odd enough that Val called the cops to report her missing.”

“No sign of a struggle at the apartment?”

“It’s a town house, not an apartment,” Molly corrected. “Just a couple of miles from here off Camelback. According to what Val told me, there was no sign of a struggle. Nothing was out of place, and there were no signs of forced entry, and apparently, nothing of value was taken. Her jewelry was in the box on the dresser in the bedroom; her computer and printer were in the office. Val said it was like Gemma simply walked out of her place and disappeared into thin air.”

“It sounds like this makes you one of the last people to see her alive?” Ali asked.

“I suppose,” Molly agreed. “I left her at the clubhouse about six-thirty or seven.”

“Was she with anyone when you left?”

Molly shook her head. “Not that I noticed. We had been sitting at the bar. You could probably ask the bartender. His name is Luis.”

“What was Gemma’s home address?”

Molly recited it, and Ali jotted it down.

Doris, who had dozed off briefly, awakened with a start. “What’s going on?” she wanted to know.

Molly heaved a heartfelt sigh. “Mama, please,” she said patiently. “We’re talking about Gemma.”

“What about her?” Doris asked. “Where is she, and where’s Chipper? Wherever Gemma is, he’s probably there, too.”

“She’s not with Chip, Mama. Gemma’s dead, and Chip’s in jail in Prescott,” Molly explained.

“In jail?” Doris was aghast. “Why on earth would he be in jail? This is serious. We have to do something about it.”

“We already did do something about it, Mama, but you probably don’t remember. I called Matt Greenburg earlier today and asked him to go up to Prescott to look into the situation. That’s why this lady is here asking questions. She’s working on an article about it.”

“So things are under control?” Doris worried.

“As much as they can be,” Molly said.

“Let’s go back to Monday,” Ali resumed. “You were aware that Lynn Martinson spent the night here on Monday?”

“She spends most nights here. I don’t approve, but there’s not much we can do about it,” Molly said. “She comes late, leaves early. For the time being, she and Chip have settled for sneaking around. Not very dignified, if you ask me.”

“What’s not dignified?” Doris asked.

“Chip and Lynn.”

“Lynn?” Doris sounded genuinely puzzled. “Who’s Lynn?”

“You know who Lynn Martinson is,” Molly admonished. “You met her that one time after the concert. She’s Chip’s girlfriend.”

“His girlfriend?” Doris echoed, visably shocked. “You’re saying Chip has a girlfriend? How can he? He’s married. Gemma won’t tolerate such a thing, and neither will I. I’ll disown him if I have to. I’ll write him right out of my will.”

Molly said nothing. Clearly, the woman’s patience with her mother was stretched to the breaking point.

“Did you hear any vehicles come and go during the night?” Ali asked.

“No,” Molly said, “but we wouldn’t, anyway. Once Mama takes out her hearing aids, she turns her television set up so loud, it blasts you into the next county. She sleeps right through it. Besides, our bedrooms are over there.” She pointed to the far side of the living room. “The driveway to the casita is at the other end of the house, so we didn’t hear any cars coming and going, and we certainly didn’t hear anyone coming into the kitchen for the knife.”

“Knife?” Ali repeated. “What knife?”

“The murder weapon-a Henckels boning knife. I guess I’m supposed to say ‘the alleged murder weapon.’ They found it in Lynn Martinson’s trunk, and the boning knife from Mama’s Henckels set in the kitchen is currently missing from the knife block. As I told the detective earlier, for all we know, that knife could have been missing for months. When Chip moved into the casita, he came with the clothes on his back, and that was about it. Mama and I had Consuelo outfit him with whatever extras he needed from here.”

“Who’s Consuelo?”

“Mother’s maid. Used to be full-time, but shortly after Chip came home, I had to let her go. Keeping her on was too expensive. At the time he was moving back in, I had her pack up some of Mama’s extra linens, dishes, silverware, pots and pans, and take them over to the casita so he could use them. If it turns out it was our knife that the cops found in the back of the car, that’s possibly where it came from-the stuff Consuelo sent over to his place, not from someone sneaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night to grab a knife.”

Ali thought about how Molly and Doris had bypassed the alarm keypad on their way into the house. “What about your alarm system?” she asked. “If people were coming and going from the casita overnight, wouldn’t your alarm have sounded?”

“There’s no longer an active alarm system on the property,” Molly said. “We used to have one, but it turned into too much of a hassle. Before I got Mother’s sleep meds adjusted, she kept getting up during the night, wandering around the house, and punching buttons right and left. She’d be thinking she was turning the AC up or down or the heat on or off when she was really punching the keypad on the alarm. Finally, after several false alarms, we had to turn the system off.”

“You keep your doors locked, don’t you?” Ali asked.

“Of course,” Molly snapped. “Without the alarm, we’d be stupid not to, but I have a master key, and so does Chip. I’m betting that’s what she used.”

“She?”

“Lynn Martinson,” Molly said in exasperation. “Who do you think? The blood was found in her car. The knife was found in her car. I find that pretty compelling evidence.”

“You’re convinced that Lynn Martinson is the murderer, then?” Ali asked. “You don’t believe your brother had anything to do with it?”

“No,” Molly said. “Chip could never be a murderer. He doesn’t have it in him.”

“What’s this about a murder?” Doris asked, once again rousing herself like a hopelessly broken record. Whatever information she gathered one minute was erased the next. “Who are you talking about?”

“We’re talking about Gemma, Mama,” Molly explained again. “About what happened to her.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing, Mama. It’s not important. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Ali was still focused on the knife. Dave hadn’t mentioned anything about investigators finding a knife in Lynn’s vehicle. Ali wondered if Paula Urban knew about it.

“Anyway,” Molly continued, “when the detective showed up with his search warrant and a crime scene team this afternoon, I had to let them in, and they were dusting everything with that ugly fingerprint powder.”

“That’s when they told you about the knife?”

Molly nodded. “They didn’t say much of anything to me. They were still here when Mama and I left for dinner, but they must have left before you got here.”

Without putting up any crime scene tape, Ali thought. Which means they found nothing.

“If they’re not treating the casita as a crime scene,” Ali said, “that means that whatever happened to Gemma didn’t happen in the casita and, according to what you said, apparently not in Gemma’s town house, either. So where’s the crime scene?”