The Harry Starke Series: Books 1-3: The Harry Starke Series Boxset Page 32

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

  “Amanda,” I looked at her, “do you have anything to add?”

  “I do, Harry,” Amanda said. “I did a little digging into Sattler’s divorce.”

  “Oh yeah? Did you find anything?”

  “I did, and it may be significant. They cited irreconcilable differences, but the settlement split was something like eighty/twenty in Gloria’s favor, by mutual consent. I wondered why that was, so I nosed through all the old files I could find. Harry, there were hints of child abuse, although it was never proved, and it wasn’t brought up during the divorce proceedings.”

  “Child abuse? You mean he was mistreating the children, physical violence?”

  “No. Molestation. Sexual abuse. There are rumors that Sattler was a pedophile.”

  “Sexual abuse? Pedophile?” I was dumbfounded. “The Tom Sattler I knew never gave any hint that he was into children. Was it outside the family? Boys? Girls? What?”

  “I don’t know. It was kept very quiet. I will say this though. I’d be surprised if it was outside the family. That would have been very difficult to hush up. His own daughters though. Gloria would not have wanted that to get out.”

  “Stephanie Sattler? She would have been what, ten or twelve at the time of the divorce?”

  “She would have been eleven. The other two, I don’t think so. Nicola would have been a baby and Julie only two. It had to be Stephanie, if at all.”

  “Geez, that opens up a whole new bag of worms. I had a feeling there was something going on between mother and daughter. It gives the entire family and Hollins motive. Any one of them, Gloria, Stephanie, or Hollins could have killed him. If so, who the hell stole the money?”

  “Then there’s his girlfriend,” Amanda said. “Wendy Brewer. She could only have been fifteen or sixteen when he started his affair with her.”

  “Shit, I never thought of her, but why? She was besotted with him. She also had the most to lose when he died. I need to get more on her. Tim, you need to take a look at her credit.”

  “I already did. She’s good. No debt, no judgments, she owns her own home, a small one worth maybe $165,000, but it’s paid for. She owns her car, a BMW Z4, a gift from Sattler; she has $28,761 in checking. She also has some investments Sattler must have made and managed for her totaling almost $430,000, and her credit score is 810. Not bad for a young single woman.”

  “Okay, so right now we have to talk to the Sattlers again, both of them, and separately, Cassell, Steiner, and maybe even Brewer. Richard Hollins was supposed to have been out somewhere at the time Sattler was killed, so he may be worth another shot. Kate, you’ve not yet met Cassell. I think it’s time you did, so maybe you should come with me on that one. Can you do that?”

  She nodded. “I can, but it needs to be done soon. Chief Johnston is pushing for a solution, and we’re not supposed to be working on the theft of the money, just Sattler’s murder.”

  “Okay,” I said, “but we know the murder and the loss of the money are somehow linked, at least we think we do.”

  Hell, no, we don’t. Tom could have been killed for any number of reasons.

  “Jacque, please call Cassell and make us an appointment, not for me, for Kate. He’s more likely to comply with a request from her than me. Tell him you’re calling on her behalf, and that it has to be this afternoon. Don’t take no for an answer.”

  Jacque gathered up her notebook and iPad and left the room.

  “Okay,” I said. “Depending upon whether or not Jacque can set something up with Cassell, we’ll need to talk to Steiner and the Sattlers. Kate, you with me?”

  “I can do that.”

  The door opened, and Jacque returned. “Two o’clock this afternoon. He wasn’t happy, but he’ll be there.”

  “All right then. Let’s go to it. Kate, you want to join me and Amanda for lunch?”

  She looked... pissed. She shook her head.

  “No? Okay.” I looked at my watch. It was almost noon. “How about you pick me up here at one ‘o’clock, then? That gives us an hour before we’re due. It shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes to get up onto Palisades. We’ll have a little time to discuss strategy.”

  “Fine. Later everyone.” She leaped up from the table and stalked out of the room.

  An hour later, I dropped Amanda off in the lot next to her car. Kate was already waiting, her engine running. The first thing out of her mouth was, “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Ask me to go to lunch with one of your girlfriends.”

  I grinned at her and was about to make a snide comment about her being jealous, then I saw the look on her face and decided against it.

  “Okay.” I nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 18

  We arrived at the Cassell residence on Palisades right at two o’clock. We parked out front, walked together up the four steps to the front door, and I thumbed the bell push. We could hear the bell chiming somewhere away in the depths of the house, and we waited. Nothing. I looked at Kate. She shrugged, reached out, and rang the bell again, and we waited. Nothing.

  Something’s not right. I can feel it.

  I tried the doorknob. The door was locked. I hit the bell push again, then again. Still nothing.

  “Let’s take a look around,” I said, opening my jacket to allow access to the M&P9. “You go that way, I’ll go this. Yell out, loud, if you find anything.”

  She nodded.

  We met at the rear of the home, in front of the great picture window. I put a finger to my lips and pointed. One of the glass panels was shattered, and the door next to it was wide open.

  Kate drew her weapon; so did I. I jacked a shell into the chamber and we stepped through the door into the living room. Cassell was sitting in one of the big leather easy chairs, his head in his hands. He was sobbing quietly, and bleeding; there was blood everywhere.

  “Kate. Check the house. Mr. Cassell, can you hear me?” I said, sliding the nine back into the rig.

  He took his hands away from his face and looked up at me. I winced. His hands were covered with blood. His face was a mass of bruises; his lips were bloody and the size of sausages. Someone had taken a knife to his ears, both lobes were missing.

  “Marty. What the hell happened? Who did this to you?”

  He mumbled something I couldn’t understand, his swollen lips barely moving.

  “Clear!” Kate shouted, holstering her Glock as she joined me at Cassell’s side.

  “What the hell?” she said, when she saw his face.

  “Marty, this is Lieutenant Catherine Gazzara, Chattanooga PD. Can you tell us what happened?”

  The look he gave me as he shook his head was pitiful to behold. His eyes, bloodshot and bruised, were mere slits in a face that reminded me of a slab of raw meat.

  “You don’t know, or you won’t say?” Kate said.

  He simply shrugged and leaned back in the chair, blood dripping from his damaged ears onto his shoulders, the red and black checkered shirt now more red than black.

  “Can you speak?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “We need to get him to a hospital,” I said.

  “I’ll make the call.” She walked out of the room, punching 911 into her phone as she went.

  “Listen. Marty. I need to know who did this to you. Nod or shake your head, okay?”

  He nodded.

  “Was it Sal De Luca?”

  He shook his head and looked away.

  “Okay. Was it Gino or Tony?”

  He didn’t answer. He pointed to his desk. I walked over to it and looked down, then back at him. He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘paper.’

  I nodded, searched, found a small note pad and a Sharpie pen. I handed them to him. He wrote something on the pad and handed it back to me; his fingers were stuck to the paper.

  They will kill me if I talk to you. It was Gino. Tony held me. Don’t say anything.
PLEASE. NO POLICE!

  “It’s okay, Marty. Kate will understand. Was it about the money, Marty?”

  He nodded. I handed the pad back to him and touched him lightly on the shoulder. “I got it, Marty. I’ll tell De Luca that when I arrived, the ambulance was already here, taking you away, and that you were unconscious. Okay?”

  He nodded.

  “Can you answer me one question?”

  He nodded.

  Kate came back. “The paramedics are on the way. How is he?”

  “He’ll be okay. Messed up a little, but okay. So, Marty, when you had lunch with Sattler; what time did you leave?”

  He scribbled on the pad and held it up for me to see. ‘2 - 2:15.’

  “Did Jessica Steiner leave when you did?”

  He shrugged his shoulders, and wrote, ‘NO.’

  “What time did she leave, do you know?”

  He shook his head.

  “Did you see anyone else while you were there?”

  ‘WENDY.’

  “She made lunch, right?”

  He nodded.

  “When did she leave?”

  ‘1 O’CLOCK.’ He shrugged again, dropped the pad onto his lap, leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes. In the distance, we could hear the sound of sirens approaching fast.

  We watched as they loaded him onto the gurney. I squeezed his shoulder. “It will be all right, Marty. I promise.”

  He just lay there, limp, like a bloody rag and shook his head. Pathetic.

  “I promise, Marty.”

  They loaded him into the ambulance and drove away, lights flashing, sirens howling.

  “Son of a bitch,” I said, more to myself than to Kate. I’m not going to let them get away with this.”

  “Who. Who get away with it?”

  “De Luca. Who else? You can’t do anything. Cassell’s scared shitless. He won’t talk to you.”

  “Did he say who did it?”

  “He did. It was Gino, ably assisted by the ape, Tony.”

  “Okay. Let’s go talk to them.”

  “We can’t. I promised Marty no police. And, anyway, I can do this better than you. I’ll take Bob with me.”

  “The hell you will. I’m going with you. I can’t let De Luca get away with something like this.”

  “You can, and you will. If De Luca thinks Cassell talked, he’ll have him killed. This was just a warning about the money. Besides, Sal doesn’t know you’re a cop, and I’d like to keep it that way, at least for now. Let me do it my way, okay?”

  She stood and thought for a moment, hands on her hips, feet widespread, head down, ponytail hanging down over her left shoulder. Then she looked up at me, twitched her head, and threw her hair back over her shoulder.

  “Okay, but for God’s sake be careful. Don’t kill anyone. If this gets out of hand, I’ll be in more shit than a herd of cows at milking time. Don’t throw me under the bus, Harry.”

  “You got it, but De Luca will have to wait, at least for now. We need to get over to Lookout and see Steiner. They may have visited her as well. Do you want to come with me?”

  “You’d better believe it. Let’s go.”

  I called both of Steiner’s numbers, but she didn’t pick up. I didn’t like it.

  “She’s not answering, Kate. I’d better give Westwood a call, make sure he’s okay.”

  I did, and he was. I didn’t tell him what had happened to Cassell, but I did tell him to be careful to whom he opened the door, and that I’d call him later, that I needed to see him. He started to question me about what I meant, but I didn’t want to frighten him, so I told him it was probably nothing but he should keep his door locked.

  Chapter 19

  We drove back down Signal Mountain in silence, hit Highway 27, then I-24 to Broad, and from there to the Scenic Highway. We arrived outside the front gate of Steiner’s home at three-fifteen that afternoon. Again, the gate was locked and I had to climb over the wall. Kate followed me over. I thumbed the bell push, but no one came to the door. After the last experience, I wasn’t inclined to waste time. We drew our weapons and circled the house, together. As before, Jessica Steiner was stretched on a lounger, a pair of headphones over her ears, and... she was naked. Her body jiggled in time with whatever music she was listening to.

  We walked around the lounger, guns drawn, and stood in front of her. Her eyes were closed; she didn’t know we were there.

  Geez. It’s at times like these I wish I’d left Kate somewhere else.

  “Easy, big boy,” Kate said, reading my mind. “That one is way too much for you. She would hurt you.”

  “Nah. I don’t think so.”

  She opened her eyes. “What the hell?” she yelled, startled. She sat up, snatched the headphones from her head and leaped to her feet.

  “You son of a bitch, Starke," she shouted. "That’s twice you’ve crept up on me like some goddamn pervert. Who the hell is she?”

  I have to tell you: she was quite a sight, a magnificent creature, a stunning vision of angry womanhood. I so wished I was there alone.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Steiner. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t an emergency. Marty Cassell is in hospital. Someone has done a job on him, taken him apart. You didn’t answer your phone and we wanted to... well, we wanted to make sure you were okay, which I see you certainly are,” I finished, with a smile.

  She wasn’t the slightest bit abashed, or embarrassed, nor did she make any attempt to cover herself up.

  “Marty? Is he okay?” She sounded worried, but....

  “No, he’s hurt pretty bad, but he’ll live. This, by the way, is Lieutenant Catherine Gazzara, Chattanooga PD.”

  The two women nodded to each other. Kate didn’t seem to be able to take her eyes off the woman. Her mouth was open, and, if she’d been a man, I’d have sworn she was drooling, but I knew better. Kate isn’t gay; that I know for sure.

  “You two need a drink? There’s iced tea in the pool house.”

  Neither of us did.

  “Okay, let’s go sit in the shade, over there.” She nodded to a table with four chairs and an umbrella. She picked up a towel from the lounger, draped it over her arm, and led the way, still ‘buck nekid,’ as they say.

  Wow. Thank you, Jessica.

  Now, I’ve always had a thing for the way women walk, especially when viewed from the rear. I love it. They somehow have a way of turning the human body into an undulating, rolling thing of beauty. What this woman did with her body was way out of the box. At thirty-eight years old, she was fit, trim, had a six-pack of muscles any bodybuilder would have been proud of, and her breasts needed no help from anyone, Mother Nature included. Viewed from the rear, however, she was a goddess, with a walk that would have rivaled Naomi Campbell’s.

  She draped the towel over the seat and sat down. We followed suit. It was the first time I ever interviewed a woman dressed only in her skin; it was more than a little unnerving.

  “So, who beat the hell out of Marty?” she asked.

  “We don’t know,” I said before Kate could answer, “but it’s a sure bet it had something to do with the money.”

  “Sal De Luca, probably,” she said, not the least perturbed by the idea.

  “Aren’t you bothered he might come after you?” Kate said.

  “Why should I be? I didn’t handle that account. Looks like he has the man he wants.”

  “For now he does,” I said, “but when he gets it into his head that Marty is not going to be able to produce, he’ll go after the next in line, which is either you or Westwood.”

  “Right,” Kate said, “and I would not want to be you if it’s you they choose. You greet them looking like that, and well... you’ll get more than a beating. You get the idea, I’m sure.”

  “Hmmm. Might not be so bad. I could do with a good man. Yours doesn’t seem to be interested.”

  That took my breath away, and I could feel myself coloring up. Kate grinned.

  Oh yeah, Kate. That’s funny. Real f
unny.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Kate said. “He was always ready, willing and more than able when I wanted him.”

  Geez, Kate. That’s way over the line.

  “Okay, both of you,” I said. “That’s enough. Ms. Steiner, I was coming to see you anyway. Tom Sattler did not commit suicide. He was murdered, and I have some questions I need to ask.”

  “Murdered? Murdered?”

  “Yes. He was shot in the head at close range. The scene was arranged to make it look like suicide.”

  “Shit,” she said quietly, and leaned back in her chair. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed. It was getting difficult to concentrate.

  “When I was here last time, I asked you when you last saw Tom Sattler. You said you spoke to him on the phone that Tuesday evening. I know from your cell phone records that you were there, in his house that day, from noon until at least five o’clock that afternoon. Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “You tracked my cell phone? What the hell is that all about? He was murdered?”

  She didn’t seem to be able to grasp the idea, much less believe it.

  “We tracked the phones of all persons of interest,” Kate said, still staring at her. “It’s routine; nothing personal.”

  “It’s damned intrusive, is what it is,” Steiner said. “Anyway, Mr. Starke, you didn’t ask me when I last saw him. You asked when I last spoke to him, and I told you the truth. Look, I learned a long time ago, from a very smart man, always to answer questions as they are asked, and never to volunteer extraneous information; it can get you into trouble. Anyway, to answer your question, Tom asked us all to drop by for lunch and to discuss the fund shortfalls. I arrived just before one o’clock. Marty was already there. James had called earlier and said he couldn’t make it. We talked for almost an hour, and then Marty left. I left a little later. I don’t know what time.”

  “I need you to tell me exactly what time you left Tom Sattler that afternoon?” I said.

  “I told you before, I can’t remember, and please stop goddamn staring at me, both of you.”

  “Then cover yourself up,” Kate said, without taking her eyes off her.

  Steiner rose to her feet, grabbed the towel from the chair, wrapped it around her, covering her chest and upper thighs, and sat down again. Unfortunately, in the process, the towel hiked up and she presented me with an unrestricted view of... well, you know.