Read Online Witch House by Dana Donovan - Free Book Online

I
had, I would have kept his ring. It is the least he could give me
after all the years I waited for him.”
    “Do you know anyone else that might have held
a grudge against him?”
    “Not really, unless you consider that Indian
chief down at the casino. He was mighty pissed at René.”
    “The Wampanoag Indian Casino?”
    “Yes, it was the casino’s money he stole.
René told me several times over the years that someone from the
reservation tried to kill him in prison.”
    “Is that right?”
    “Check it out for yourself.”
    “I will do that.”
    She hit her cigarette one last time and
crushed it out in the ashtray. “Is that all, Detective?”
    “Almost. I have just one more question. Can
you tell me where you were between one and three this morning?
    “Is that when he died?”
    “Yes.”
    “I was here with a gentleman friend.”
    “Can you give me his name?”
    She shook her head. “I prefer not.”
    “Why?”
    “Because he is married. I do not think he
would appreciate his name coming out in association with a homicide
investigation.”
    “I can subpoena you.”
    “Then do it.” She smiled coldly.
    I looked to Carlos. He had nothing else. “All
right, I guess we will go,” I said. I stood and offered her my
card. “If you change your mind, call me.”
    She took the card and tossed it onto the
coffee table. “Don’t hold your breath.”
    I pointed toward the door. “We’ll see
ourselves out.”
    Back in the car, Carlos and I discussed our
thoughts on the colorful Ms. Stephanie Stiles. We had seen her kind
before. Women like that usually try to put up a front for such
interviews, but this woman would have none of that. Her
transparency served well to feed two schools of thought. Either she
had nothing to hide and let us see the disaffection in her
relationship with Landau, or she simply did not care, implying her
involvement in his death through her callas reaction to the news.
Carlos was of mind that she positioned herself as Landau’s fiancée
so that she might gain knowledge of the money’s whereabouts and
recover it for herself. I agreed, further suggesting that her
lawyer friend, Paul Kemper, arranged for the two to meet with just
that plan in mind.
    “Why else would he introduce a woman of her
questionable scruples to a man in prison?” I asked.
    Carlos said, “Maybe he is the mystery man who
left his watch on the nightstand.”
    “Could be. I suppose it’s possible Kemper met
Stiles in the bar that night with one thing in mind.”
    “Sleazy sex?”
    “No, Carlos! He needed a soft
intervention.”
    He shook his head. “I’m losing you.”
    “Look, this is purely hypothetical, but what
if Kemper used his attorney client privilege to gain critical
knowledge about the robbery, convincing Landau to admit that the
money was still in play.”
    “Oh, I see where you are going. The problem
came when Landau would not commit to its location. So, that’s when
Kemper worked Stiles into the equation, hoping she might coax it
out of him.”
    “Exactly!”
    “So, what do we do now?”
    “Simple.” I smiled at the thought of the
chase finally getting under way. “Now we go see Mister Paul Kemper
and ask him a few questions.”
     
     
     

SIX
     
    Paul Kemper hung his shingle upstairs from a
bail bondsman’s office in the downtown red light district. No small
coincidence, I imagined, as the proximity to each other likely
worked well for reciprocal referrals. Still, I found it strange
that he chose to set up shop in this manner. Dominic Spinelli said
that Kemper was once a highly regarded up and coming defense
attorney. I would have thought he had made a name for himself by
now, eliminating the need to represent low-life thugs and dregs
from the hood.
    Carlos and I walked into Kemper’s office, and
right away noticed the distinct smell of nail polish and a severe
lack of cross-ventilation. A young woman doing her nails at the
reception counter looked up at us and smiled nervously. She