Rich Blood (Jason Rich #1)(10)

Tony turned and put his hands on his hips. “I hope you keep that pledge.” The general counsel inspected Jason with flat eyes. “This is your last chance.”





10


The mood in the conference room was grim. The officers’ faces were tight. Though the air-conditioning was going full blast, to Sergeant Hatty Daniels, the space felt hot and stuffy. Tension gripped the space like a boa constrictor. Like the other lawmen and women, Hatty focused on the head of the table and waited.

At last, Sheriff Griffith cleared his throat. “Y’all know the deal. Based on Clem’s autopsy report, the cause of Dr. Braxton Waters’s death was three gunshot wounds to the head from a nine-millimeter pistol. He was obviously then pushed or rolled into the lake. Time of death has been approximated at between nine p.m. on July 4 and one a.m. on July 5. Isn’t that correct, Clem?”

“Yes, sir,” said Dr. Clem Carton, the county coroner.

“People, it’s July 7. Dr. Waters has been cold for sixty hours, and we still don’t have any leads other than his wife.”

“Who has a rock-solid alibi for almost the entire four-hour window.” Hatty’s voice was stern as she inspected the sheriff from her spot at the other end of the table. She had dark-brown skin, short hair, and a no-nonsense disposition. She was the best investigator in the department, and that’s why she’d been assigned the gig. “Jana Waters was seen on a video surveillance camera entering the Hampton Inn on Highway 431 at nine forty-five p.m., and the same camera shows her leaving at three a.m. on July 5. There were cameras at all exits, and she never left the hotel. Her Mercedes remained parked in the same spot for over five hours.” Hatty paused and leaned her elbows on the table. “Though possible, it is unlikely that Ms. Waters killed her husband unless she hired someone to do it, and so far we have no evidence of that.”

“She was having an affair with Tyson Cade,” Sheriff Griffith fired back.

“So you say, Griff, but we have nothing proving that.” Hatty gave him a weary smile, and he grunted. She had a solid relationship with the sheriff and was the only person in the room who would dare call him “Griff” under the circumstances. But she wanted to get her point across. “All we have is circumstantial evidence linking Ms. Waters to Tyson Cade. Calls to strange numbers.”

“Cade was at the Hampton too.”

“I know, and I suspect he was there to see Ms. Waters, but we don’t have a room attached to either one of them, and the cameras coming out of the elevators never give us a clear view.”

“What about the drugs?”

Hatty nodded. “We’ve got her dead to rights on coke and marijuana possession, and we’ve charged her accordingly. That gives us the right to hold her, but, unless some facts surface to show that she’d hired someone to kill her husband, we don’t have enough to charge her for the murder.”

The sheriff again grunted. “Do we have a single other suspect?”

“Our best angle is probably the handyman, Pike, but—”

“We’ll get to him in a minute, but first let’s cover all the other alternatives. Did the doctor have a mistress?”

Hatty let her hands fall to the table palms down. “Several of the staff at the hospital said that Waters was having an affair with his CRNA, Colleen Maples. We’ve spoken to her, and she denied anything but a professional relationship. She also said she was at the Rock House on the Fourth with a group of three other women for dinner, and her story is corroborated by all of them. A waiter at the restaurant also remembers seeing her there, and her credit card receipt shows she cashed out at eight fifty-eight p.m. Maples lives in a small house near Camp Cha-La-Kee, and two of her friends joined her for some drinks and to watch the fireworks on the lake. Everyone left around one a.m.”

“So nothing but smoke on the affair, and she has an alibi.”

“Yep,” Hatty said.

“Damnit,” Griffith said, wincing. “What about enemies? Did Waters have any business associates that he’d wronged? Patients that he’d mistreated? Any damn thing?”

“Not that I’ve found. Of course, there was the malpractice case that tried last year . . .” Hatty trailed off, and there were several nods around the room.

Dr. Waters had been sued for medical negligence by the family of Trey Cowan, who’d been the star quarterback of Guntersville High School five years ago. A genuine blue chip prospect with offers to play from every top college program in the country. He’d committed to Auburn, but Nick Saban and Alabama were still after him, and many thought he’d flip his senior year.

In the last game of his senior season against Scottsboro, Trey had broken the tibia in his right leg. Though serious, the fracture was a common injury, and players typically recovered within six months. But Trey hadn’t recovered. He’d developed an infection after surgery, and, though the wound eventually healed and his leg was saved, he could never play football again and walked with a pronounced limp. Trey’s mother, Trudy, a longtime waitress at Top O’ the River, had filed a lawsuit on her son’s behalf against Waters. After three years of discovery, depositions, and two failed mediations, the case went to trial. Eight days later, the jury came back with a verdict in favor of the doctor.

“Have we spoken with Trudy? Doesn’t she live in Alder Springs?” the sheriff asked.