All the Deadly Lies Read online

  “Detectives…”

  “Mr. Adams, is there a conference room we can use?” Louie asked.

  The receptionist pointed to the one behind her. Seth led the way. They followed behind him and closed the door once they entered the room. Do it quick, Jake thought. Handle the shock and the emotions, which would follow later.

  “Mr. Adams, your mother is Chelsea Adams?” Louie asked.

  “Yes, did you find her? Is she okay? Where is she?” His voice was strained.

  “Mr. Adams, I’m sorry to inform you. We found your mother this morning,” Louie said.

  “Alive?”

  “No.”

  Seth grabbed the table. Jake thought for sure he’d pass out. The boy’s face lost all color as he collapsed into a chair. “You’re not mistaken? Did she have an accident?” Utter devastation filmed over his tear-filled eyes.

  “We’ve identified her through her fingerprints. She was found this morning, in town. No, it wasn’t an accident.” Jake let it hang out there.

  Seth stared at him for a long minute then started crying. Thank God Louie took over the job of comforting Seth.

  “Seth, we’re sorry for your loss. Can I get you a glass of water? Call someone for you?” Louie, a compassionate man, always dealt better with the survivor’s grief.

  “Did you tell my sister? Oh God, Cara.” Seth lost it big time as sobs racked his body.

  “No, we came here first. Do you want us to tell Cara, or do you want to?” Louie asked.

  “Can we do it together?” Seth wrapped his arms around his waist. When he answered, it sounded like the voice of a little boy. He rocked and cried out again, “Mom.”

  Jake left Louie with Seth while he spoke with one of the partners he knew at the firm. He informed Attorney Ron Jacobson they’d be taking Seth home.

  “Jake, please call me if he needs anything. They’re a close-knit family. This will destroy them. His father on the other hand had left his mother last year for some twenty- or thirty-year-old, then up and moved to Florida,” Ron Jacobson said.

  “Thanks, Ron. We’re going to need to question Seth and his sister. Do you want to be there?” Jake offered. Ron was a corporate attorney.

  “Do you have to do it today?” Ron asked as he steepled his fingers in front of him.

  “Yeah, we do.”

  “I’ll meet you at their house in about an hour. Will you be able to pick up Cara and be there by then?”

  “Yes, we’ll see you there.”

  They escorted the dazed kid to Jake’s car.

  In the car, Louie asked again. “Seth, after we inform Cara, is there someone we can call to stay with both of you?”

  “No, I don’t want to talk to anyone right now,” he said, staring out the window.

  * * * *

  Southington, a bedroom community to Hartford, was growing and expanding from a sleepy town to a full city friendly to businesses. It actively pursued all types of industries. It sat between Wilkesbury and Hartford. Jake pulled to the curb of the downtown office where Cara Adams worked. He left Seth in the car with Louie when he went into the doctor’s offices. On the drive over, he’d called Cara’s office and spoke with the receptionist. He learned Cara was an accountant in the billing department.

  He walked into a small room crowded with patients. Jake discreetly held out his shield to the receptionist. He wanted to speak with Cara’s boss first. The receptionist led him to Doctor Ira Charles’s office and asked him to wait while she got the doctor. The doc didn’t keep him waiting.

  It’s shocking,” Dr. Charles said.

  “She told you her mother was missing?” Jake asked.

  “Of course, Cara’s been upset all week. It’s all she could talk about and who could blame her? Her mother disappeared without a trace…you found her?”

  “We did. She’s been murdered. Cara’s brother’s out in our car. What kind of doctor are you? Seth will need something to calm him down. We still have to inform Cara of her mother’s death. Do you want to be there for support?”

  “Yes. When we’re done I’ll see to her brother. He’s also my patient.”

  He followed the doctor to an office across the hall from the reception area. Jake walked in first. A young woman who resembled their victim sat behind the desk with a phone to her ear. Cara’s coloring matched her brother’s—brown hair, big brown eyes, but slightly fuller lips. He’d have to wait until she stood to judge her height, though she appeared petite. She looked up when they came in, stopped in mid-sentence.

  “Cara?” Jake said. He had clipped his badge to his belt in plain sight. She stared at his badge before she raised her terror-filled eyes to his.

  “Yes, can I get you some coffee?” Stalling, Jake let her as he took the seat next to her.

  “Cara, we don’t need any coffee. We found your mother this morning. She’s dead.” Before she could interrupt, he continued. “We have your brother in the car outside. He’s not in good shape. Why don’t we take both of you home?”

  She asked the same question her brother did. “Was it a car accident? No one noticed or helped? No one witnessed it?” Tears flooded her eyes, though they didn’t fall. Jake watched her fight for control. Jake let her questions run out before he answered.

  “No, she was murdered.”

  “Murdered!” She jumped up. “How? This can’t be real. She has no enemies. Who would kill her?”

  Jake held her hand, guided her back down into the chair. “I’m sorry for your loss, Cara. I’ll answer the questions I can once we get both of you home. And I’ll need to ask a few of my own.”

  “If you need anything…anything at all…call me. Do you want me to go with you?” Dr. Charles asked.

  “No, I have to see to my brother. Is he okay?” This time the tears fell.

  “He’s upset,” Jake said.

  “Who could hurt her? She was a kind, gentle woman.” Cara cried harder.

  “We’ve started an investigation into her death.” Jake picked up her purse and led her to his car. She jumped in the back seat and grabbed her brother, hugging him to her body.

  * * * *

  The four of them walked up a sidewalk lined with colorful tulips to the front door of the Adamses’ house. The riot of color seemed a bit too cheerful for the occasion. Louie unlocked the front door with the keys Cara had supplied on the ride over. Cara led them into the modest, one-story house. The living room to the right of the foyer seemed like a good place to do the interview. Jake scanned the rooms as did Louie. Traditional furniture in bold navy with red accents, and an old solid wood table sat beside the sofa. Chairs were scattered around the room and doilies covered every tabletop. The hardwood floors visible under the oriental area rugs were polished to a glassy sheen. The living room connected with the dining area. He assumed the kitchen would be off the dining room. The dining area, decorated in peach and green fabrics, showcased a dark ornate table with matching hutch and buffet cabinet. The centerpiece of lilies surrounded by green leafy stems complemented the living room. A house well decorated. A home, Jake corrected as he waited for them to settle in.

  He stood, as did Louie. The Adams kids sat on the sofa, their arms around each other, Seth’s head on Cara’s shoulder. He and Louie sat in the chairs facing them. Louie started the questioning.

  “Can we call someone to come over?” Louie asked again.

  “No, right now I don’t want to talk to anyone,” Cara said.

  A loud musical chime filled the room. Jake got up, answered it and motioned Ronald Jacobson in and pointed out the living room. Once the lawyer sat down, the questions started on both sides.

  “What happened to my mother? Did she suffer?” Cara asked.

  “We don’t have a lot of information yet. She was discovered this morning. Once the M.E. supplies the information we’ll have more. Right now, I have to
ask some difficult questions,” Louie said.

  “She wasn’t raped, wasn’t she?” Cara asked with apprehension.

  They always ask, Jake thought, as if death isn’t enough of an insult on its own. He fielded the question. “Cara, we don’t have that information yet. The M.E. will determine her wounds during the autopsy.” Knowing won’t help you to deal with it, believe me.

  “Okay,” Cara answered for the both of them. She seemed the stronger of the two.

  “Cara, where were you Friday night, between the hours of eleven PM and three AM?” Louie took over the questioning.

  “Here, all night. I didn’t go out. My boyfriend was working. I stayed home and watched television. I called the police at eleven PM because Mom didn’t come home,” Cara said. She ran her finger gently over the picture of her mother she picked up off the end table.

  “Did you call from your cell phone or the house phone?” Louie asked.

  “I called on the house phone. I’d never hurt my own mother.”

  “I understand, Cara, but this is standard procedure. Before we can move forward, we have to eliminate the both of you. We’re also going to ask your father the same questions,” Jake explained.

  “The bastard’s in Florida with a girl my brother’s age. He left my mother last year around this time,” Cara spat.

  Such venom. Now if Jake had her father on the slab in the morgue, she might be his number one suspect. “Cara, who did she go out with on Friday night?” Jake asked. “I’ll need her friends’ names, addresses, and phone numbers, if you have them.”

  “She went out with her friend, Julie Cahns, and with Sara Hurdle from work. This week Mom said another girl from work was joining them. You’ll have to ask her friends who that was. I’m not sure. I’ll go get her address book.” Cara stood to leave the room.

  “Where did they go?” Louie asked. Years ago, Jake had found if he and Louie bounced the questions back and forth between them it kept suspects and witnesses off balance.

  “They usually go to the golf course for dinner. If they’re in the mood, they go into the lounge for drinks after.”

  “Which course?”

  “Sorry…I can’t remember. It’s the one on the west side of town, the public one.”

  “Blakely Hills?” Jake questioned.

  Cara left the room. Jake looked over at Seth. The kid looked devastated but managed to pull himself together, but he hadn’t interrupted as they questioned his sister. “Seth, are you up to a few questions?” Louie asked.

  “Yes, if it will help catch the person who did this to our mother.” The kid’s skin had gone transparent as happens with grief or shock. Black pouches had formed under his eyes. Despair aged the kid before his eyes.

  “Where were you Friday night?” Louie asked.

  “I went to dinner with my girlfriend, Olga. We ate at Cava’s, in Southington. After dinner, we went back to her house. I spent the night, her parents weren’t home…” Seth blushed.

  “I’ll need Olga’s information,” Louie said, as Cara returned to the room. She handed Jake her mother’s address book.

  Seth supplied the information for Olga. “Can I ask her to come over later?”

  “Yes, but not right now. We need to speak with her before you do,” Louie said.

  “Is there anyone else who might’ve given your mother any trouble at work or in her personal life?” Jake asked.

  “No, everyone liked her. She never harmed anyone or got into fights or arguments. She didn’t date,” Seth said, showing anger for the first time.

  Jake preferred Seth’s anger to the crying. The anger would help him deal with it.

  “She hasn’t dated since she divorced your father?” Louie clarified.

  “She didn’t divorce him, he divorced her. No, she didn’t date. It shattered her when he came home and announced he was leaving her. It came right out of the blue.”

  “Do you keep in touch with him, Seth?” Louie asked.

  “Yes, more than my sister does. She’s angry. I mean full-blast angry with him. She won’t even acknowledge his new wife. I dated the woman in high school.”

  It takes all kinds. Jake looked around at the lovely home, wondering why someone would decide to leave his family. He wrote in his notebook. Trouble? Look into Chelsea’s marriage.

  Seth continued, “Well, she thought she’d hit pay dirt with him. I fixed her. I got my mother the best divorce lawyer around. He stripped Dad with the alimony, including half his pensions and 401k’s. If Lola wants any money, she’ll have to work for it.”

  Jake saw it hit Seth again. His mother was gone. He wrapped his arms around his waist and rocked as he’d done back at his office.

  All this time, Jacobson hadn’t said anything. Jake turned to him. “Do you have any questions, counselor?”

  “No, you’ve covered everything. When will you get the cause of death?”

  “Not until the autopsy’s finished,” Louie answered.

  “If you need to speak with them again, please give me a call.”

  “Will do. Cara, Seth, we’d like to have a look at your mother’s room,” Jake said.

  “I don’t want anyone pawing through her things. It’s bad enough someone murdered her, now this?” Cara spewed.

  Chapter 3

  It killed Jake to watched Cara fight through his request. She looked at Jacobson. Ron reached over and patted her knee. “He has to, Cara, to help catch her murderer,” Ron said.

  “I need to lie down. I’m not watching you rifle through her things. She’d be mortified.” Cara turned to leave the room, then spun back to Jake. “Make sure, Lieutenant, you catch the bastard who did this to our mother.”

  Seth chased after Cara, leaving them alone with Jacobson. “Are you staying, Ron?” Jake asked.

  “Yes.”

  Jake stood outside the door of Chelsea’s bedroom to get an impression of the woman while Louie went out to their car to grab the evidence kits and gloves. As soon as Louie came back they started their search. A neat woman with good quality clothes in muted colors, shoes, and furniture, nothing flashy for Chelsea. Not an overabundance of anything. It looked as if she lived within her means. All of Chelsea’s jewelry was fourteen-karat gold. Everything in the room was precise, organized to an inch of its life. Clothes were color coordinated in both the closet and the drawers. He hadn’t expected to get much and they didn’t.

  The top drawer held her functional underwear. Jake discovered the sexy lingerie in the second drawer. He couldn’t tell if they were new or old. She took care of everything she owned. Her bathroom, free of clutter, was shined to a gloss. In her closet, her shoes were lined up under matching outfits. A high-end-looking fabric covered the bed without all the fuss of throw pillows. It told Jake a lot about Chelsea.

  Chelsea Adams was a practical, confident, organized woman, who wasn’t afraid to show her feminine side. But who was she showing it to?

  He didn’t get into details too much with the kids. They weren’t up to it. After the search, they headed over to Chelsea’s office.

  * * * *

  A social worker for the state, Chelsea had worked in an office on Thomaston Avenue in a long, gray concrete, unimaginative office building. The structure was divided in half. The unemployment office was situated on one side, social services occupied the other. Leaving the sunshine outside, he and Louie walked into the gray SS office. The receptionist didn’t bother to look up. She pointed to a sign-in sheet as she continued to talk into the phone. On principle, Jake didn’t sign in. He held his shield under her nose until she acknowledged him.

  “What can I do for you, Officer?” she asked, after a couple of moments.

  “That’s Lieutenant. I need to speak with Mrs. Adams’s supervisor.” Instead of calling the supervisor, the woman got up, walked to the back of the room, and disappeared around a gray par
tition.

  “You sure got used to ‘Lieutenant’ fast.” Louie elbowed him.

  “You bet,” Jake said.

  The rest of his comment was cut off by a small man of about five-four with a rounded pot belly in, of all things, a gray suit. He looked as if he’d swallowed a basketball. His gray hair kept to the color scheme, or lack of it, and he was sporting a comb-over. It always amused Jake what people did for vanity.

  “Lieutenant, I’m Angelo Torres, Chelsea’s supervisor. Please follow me to my office. It’s a terrible tragedy. We heard a little while ago she’d been found.”

  He led the way through a maze of cubicles to an office the size of a postage stamp. The tight, small space told Jake Angelo’s status in the department—a low-level manager.

  “How did you hear?” Jake asked.

  “Her daughter called here to speak with Sara, who then told all of us. Please have a seat,” Angelo offered.

  “Did Chelsea work for you, Mr. Torres?” Jake sat and jumped right in with his questions.

  “Yes. I distribute the work load. I oversee everyone’s files, including Chelsea’s. If an employee has a problem or issue they can’t resolve, it’s handed over to me.”

  “Did Chelsea routinely have problems?” Louie asked.

  “No, her clients respected her and she was fair to everyone, no bias. Never ran out of patience, like some do. She didn’t make people feel uncomfortable or embarrassed for being here either. Chelsea had compassion for her clients. We’ll miss her,” Angelo concluded in a monotone voice.

  “Did she ever have a client who wasn’t satisfied? Or felt they deserved more than what was offered?” Louie asked.

  “Once, about two years ago, a man who was denied benefits. He wouldn’t leave her alone. In her best interest, we had her file a complaint with the police. After she filed, he didn’t bother her anymore. His intimidation didn’t work. Chelsea was a tough nut,” Angelo said.