What Happened on Beale Street Page 29

  Even though she was being poked, prodded, blinded, and monitored, Isabelle had never felt so happy in her life.

  And so protected.

  And so much in love.

  For the next hour, police officers took photos, bagged evidence, and asked an inordinate number of questions about the progression of events. Finally, she and Nate were left blissfully alone, although she would have to meet with the DA tomorrow and sign a formal statement.

  No words could express her gratitude, so Isabelle just wrapped her arms around Nate’s waist and hugged him. For a long while they simply enjoyed the quiet after a long and ugly storm. “It was him all along, wasn’t it? Tony killed my poor brother to get back at me.”

  “I don’t know, but we’re leaving that question up to Detective Marino of Memphis Homicide. After all, what good are friends in high places if I still have to work so hard?” Nate brushed a kiss across her forehead. “In the meantime, you and I have some serious making-up to do.”

  Isabelle giggled. “What do you want to do first? Hold hands?”

  “Let’s start by calling for a pizza. But you’re paying and I’m picking out the toppings.”

  “On second thought, let’s start with this.” In a moment of reckless abandon, Isabelle stretched up on tiptoes and kissed him squarely on the lips. “Now, what do you want on that pizza?”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Nate politely declined when the waitress tried to refill his coffee mug for the fifth time. No need to overwork his kidneys just because no one wanted to have breakfast with him. With so much to tell Nicki, he’d left several messages on her voice mail in her suite that they should have breakfast together. Here it was almost noon and still not a word. Good thing he went ahead and ordered the breakfast special or he might have starved to death.

  Mr. Prescott was suspiciously absent from the concierge desk. Would a quick check at Oakbrook reveal Henry Prescott was also missing in action? What on earth was Nicki up to? And a better question might be why had he made her a partner at his agency? Today he could have used her expertise with databases as well as her woman’s intuition. With Tony Markham in custody, Nate wanted to know every move the guy had made the day Danny died. In his deranged mind, Markham could have perceived Danny as a threat to a relationship with Isabelle. After last night, he proved himself capable of far more than stalking and perverse fantasies. He was capable of murder. Nate needed to secure conclusive evidence before more time elapsed.

  “Mr. Price?” An attractive, middle-aged woman broke through his fog. “My name is Mrs. Hern. I’m filling in for Mr. Prescott for an hour while he runs an errand. This message was left for you at the front desk.” She handed him a sealed envelope.

  “Thank you.” Nate nodded, briefly wondering if he should have stood up. His mother’s attempts to instill proper manners had left a vague imprint. He pulled out a sheet of stationery, embossed with the Carlton logo, and read:

  Nate, I will be tied up today on at outing with Henry.

  We may be out very late tonight. Don’t worry about me.

  I’m fine and will contact you when I get a chance.

  Your cousin and favorite employee, Nicki

  Nicki awake after the streetlights had turned on?

  Not informing her cousin as to her whereabouts was one thing, but as her boss, shouldn’t he be kept in the loop as to what she was doing?

  Unsure whether to laugh or be irritated, Nate paid his check and strode out the front door for a head-clearing walk. The bright spring sunshine immediately started baking the back of his neck. Before he’d gone two blocks, Nate made the only choice that made any sense: He wouldn’t let his pride stand in the way of finding Danny’s killer. He punched in the detective’s number to bring his ally up to date with yesterday’s events.

  “Chip? It’s Nate. I think you should take a look at a Tony Markham for the Danny Andre homicide. That sicko broke into Isabelle’s condo and tried to strangle her. He’s been stalking her for weeks. Last night his violence escalated to a new level.”

  Marino issued his signature snide laugh. “I’m way ahead of you, old buddy. You don’t think I got pals on the Germantown force? They gave me the heads-up right after they booked that pervert. But I’m glad you’re keeping me in the loop. Sounds like you arrived in the nick of time. What, no white stallion to ride in on?”

  “I rented one but couldn’t figure out how to get him up on the balcony.”

  Marino snorted. “As much as I’d love to lock up Markham for the rest of his unnatural life, he ain’t our man for the Andre murder.”

  Nate came to an abrupt stop, causing the sidewalk throng to detour around him. A few muttered comments as they passed. “What do you mean? I’ve seen him in action. He would have killed Isabelle if I hadn’t gotten there.”

  “Yeah, I believe you. But that don’t change the fact Markham had an iron-clad alibi for the weekend Danny died. He’d been arrested for voyeurism outside a college dorm at Ole Miss. Oxford Police held him forty-eight hours. Markham rigged a remote video camera to peek into windows. He claimed he was trying to catch a shot of a rare Western Kingbird, and filmed the girls by accident. Bird-watching—what kind of cockamamie story is that?”

  Nate ignored the question. “What happened after the forty-eight hours?”

  “Not one of the women would sign the complaint. They didn’t want to be bothered, so Markham was released. And then he threatened to sue the police if they didn’t remove any reference to the ‘misunderstanding’ from their database. Unfortunately, the period he was locked up covered the time Andre had been killed. Since then he got fired from his job, giving him more time to stalk innocent women. So I’m going to ask you nicely if you got anything else you want to share since this still is my case. Hold that thought, I gotta take this other call.”

  While Marino was gone, Nate tried to untangle something Isabelle had said. She told the officer who questioned her last night that she’d bought more time with Markham by saying what he wanted to hear. No doubt all women used the device to avoid difficult confrontations. Carlene Bradington said: “I will always remember her brother as a kind man whose friendship I treasured during a difficult period.” Nate had never heard such a rehearsed delivery in his life. Was she putting up a smoke screen to hide her real feelings? Friendship? That wasn’t how Tyrone Biggs described their relationship. “What I’m telling you is that high-maintenance girlfriend had a nasty ex-husband, bigger than an ox. He came around one night and started trouble.” Who had Carlene been protecting—herself or her rich husband? Nate ducked under an awning to get out of the hot sun.

  “You still there, Price?” Marino asked when he came back on the line.

  “Yeah, I’m here. And I need to tell you about my trip to see Carlene Bradington. Isabelle asked me to deliver her condolences in person. During the visit something didn’t sound right about her breakup with Danny.

  “Let’s not talk about this on the phone,” Marino said after a brief hesitation. “Where can we meet?”

  Twenty minutes later, the two former Mississippi State football players sat at a table in Kurtz’s Deli. While Chip chomped into an Italian hoagie, Nate relayed everything he could remember about meeting the woman Danny had loved.

  The detective listened without interruption. When Nate was finished, he set the rest of his sandwich down. “Sit tight. I can access police databanks from my car and make a few calls. Do you think Miss Andre will help us get inside the Bradington house?”

  “Probably.”

  Chip stood. Before heading for the door, he said, “Call her to see if she’ll meet us in Bartlett.”

  By the time he returned, Nate had paid the bill and boxed up Chip’s leftovers. “Well?”

  “Jackpot. Just like the little wife said, Ray Bradington played tight end for the Tennessee Titans. He’d been a big draft pick nine years ago. Plenty of talent, or so his coaches thought.”

  “How come I never heard of him?”

  “Because he onl
y played one season. Now he manages a fitness gym out in the suburbs. Despite his enormous salary and signing bonus, Ray failed to set the gridiron on fire. He also got into plenty of trouble while under contract. He broke somebody’s jaw in a Beale Street bar. Then he almost killed a man a week later. Charges were dropped, no doubt after a serious exchange of money. But the Titan’s owners ordered him to a therapist for anger management. Nobody can afford having a loose cannon on the field, especially since Ray averaged one unsportsmanlike conduct penalty per game. Eight months later, Bartlett police were called to his house for possible domestic assault. Ray had put sweet Carlene in the emergency room. This time the Titans cut him from the roster.”

  Nate’s hands bunched into fists even though the adversary was miles away.

  “I saw the hospital intake photos.” Marino continued. “Man, that guy should be drawn and quartered for what he did to a woman half his size.”

  “Hard to understand why she stayed married to him,” Nate said more to himself than the detective.

  “She might have tried to get away, but he would find her and drag her home. Violence like that is unpredictable.”

  “You’re right. Tell me what you want Isabelle and me to do.”

  “Do you think she would be willing to wear a wire?” Marino started texting a message.

  “No, Chip. No. Isabelle has been through enough. I’ll wear the wire. If Bradington is home, I’m sending Izzy out to the car. Like you said, a guy like that is unpredictable.”

  Marino stopped texting. “If the husband is home, what makes you think Carlene will even let you in the house? You may be the one sitting in the car, but a woman will usually invite in another woman. Why don’t we let Miss Andre decide if she can do this?”

  Nate wanted to make that decision for her, but knew he didn’t have the right. Isabelle needed both Markham and Danny’s killer behind bars if she was ever to find closure. “All right. I’ll call Isabelle on the way to Bartlett. She might not want any part of this.”

  But Nate turned out to be dead wrong. Isabelle eagerly agreed and then beat them to the meeting spot half a mile from the Bradingtons’ development. Isabelle jumped out of her car the moment Nate pulled up behind her. “What’s the plan, Nate? Why is Detective Marino still sitting in the car?”

  “Good afternoon, Miss Andre,” Nate said with a smile.

  Blushing, she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Good afternoon. Sorry, I got pretty excited after your call. Do you think the ex-husband killed my brother?” she asked, the color draining from her face.

  “There’s a good chance, but Marino says he needs your help to get inside the house. He’s been on the phone trying to secure a search warrant, but apparently we don’t have enough evidence for one. He’s also waiting for a technician with a recording device. He wants you to wear a wire when we talk to Carlene.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Me?”

  Nate slicked a hand through his hair. “I’m against it. I want to wear the wire, but Marino thinks Carlene will shut the door in my face. If she talks to anybody, it will be you.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Hold on, Izzy. Carlene was legally separated when she met Danny, not divorced. Her husband has a hot temper. He’s already put several men in the hospital during fights and has been abusive throughout their marriage. If Bradington is home, this could be dangerous. I would prefer that—”

  Isabelle placed her hands on his chest. “No, Nate. I’m touched by your protectiveness, but I agree with Detective Marino. I have the best chance of getting Carlene to talk. I loved my brother. Please let me do this for him.”

  A white van pulled up behind Marino’s sedan, drawing their attention. “That must be the technician. Let’s go see if they’re ready for me.” She started to walk away, but Nate grabbed her hand.

  “Fine, but you’re not going in alone. We’ll say I’m your grief counselor, or whatever explanation you like.”

  “My grief counselor?” Her magnificent cat eyes sparkled. “I guess it’s a fitting role for my new boyfriend.”

  When Isabelle and Marino climbed into the back of the van, Nate checked his weapon and the extra clips of ammo in his pocket as though expecting a shootout with a drug lord. He remained within earshot of every one of Marino’s instructions. He didn’t like the plan one bit, but without an alternative, he had little choice in the matter.

  When Isabelle was ready to go, Nate climbed into the passenger side of her Prius. Without a search warrant, Marino would have to remain outside the gate until Nate punched in 9-1-1, a number both he and Isabelle programed into speed dial.

  At the guard shack, she leaned out the window and turned her luminous eyes up to the guard. “Isabelle Andre to see Mrs. Bradington,” she said with a tearful hitch in her voice. “I’m not sure if she’s expecting me or not. This gentleman is my spiritual advisor.”

  The guard paid Nate zero notice. “One moment, ma’am.”

  Through the window, Nate and Izzy could see him talking on the phone. Then, surprisingly, the gate lifted. Nate directed her to the Bradington home—a place that had been no safe haven for Carlene. After she parked in the driveway, Isabelle climbed out and gazed at the luxurious mini mansion.

  “Hard to imagine such a nasty man could live in such luxury.”

  “Money can buy all the good taste a person needs.” Nate took hold of her arm. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

  “I’m positive. Now stop looking suspicious and start looking reassuring. You’re my grief counselor, remember?” Izzy marched up the walk and rang the doorbell.

  Carlene responded immediately but opened the door only a few inches. “Isabelle, I’m confused. Security said you were accompanied by your spiritual advisor. I’ve met Mr. Price, and he’s no pastor.”

  Isabelle wrung her hands. “Nate was a good friend of Danny’s. I couldn’t get through this without him and his cousin.”

  “I’m sorry you’re suffering.” Carlene sounded contrite but the door didn’t budge. “I remember the pain when my father died, but I can’t help you. Perhaps I can pray for you.” The massive door began to close.

  “Please give me five minutes,” Isabelle begged. “The musicians on Beale Street say Danny had a death wish—that he purposefully put himself in harm’s way with dangerous people. Could you tell me about his emotional state the last time you saw him? Please, Carlene.” Isabelle burst out crying, tears Nate knew were no act.

  Carlene hesitated for an instant. “All right. I can spare a few minutes before my Pilates class. Come in.” She ushered them into the impressive living room.

  Not a single thing—not a magazine or new plant or forgotten coffee cup—was different from his first visit. Isabelle perched on the arm of a chair while Nate took a position near the window and switched on his recorder. The weight of the extra clips in his pocket and the weapon under his coat did little to mitigate his anxiety for Isabelle’s safely.

  “It has been a while since I last saw your brother. As I told Mr. Price, I ended our friendship when my husband and I decided to reconcile. Married women shouldn’t keep single men as friends.” Carlene issued a brittle laugh.

  “Then maybe his friends were right. Danny was… suicidal.” Isabelle’s hand went to her throat.

  Carlene shook her head. “No, that’s not true. Danny’s mental state was always upbeat, including the last time I saw him. He had a smile and kind word for everyone.”

  Izzy’s tears returned. “You don’t understand. I found a letter he wrote but never mailed. Danny was in love with you. He wanted to ask you to marry him. When you told him you didn’t love him, that you thought of him as just a friend, it must have put him over the edge. I don’t know how he managed it, but maybe he picked a horrible argument with someone. Some sort of suicidal confrontation because he’d made such a fool of himself.” Isabelle covered her face and sobbed uncontrollably.

  Nate moved to comfort her, but Carlene got there first. “No! You’ve got it all wr
ong, Isabelle.” Carlene spoke in little more than a whisper, but her message was clear. “I loved your brother. Danny was the sweetest man I ever met, but Ray wouldn’t let me go. If I divorced him for another man, Ray would make sure we never found happiness. Don’t you understand? I had to break up with Danny, but love for my husband had nothing to do with it.” Her words disintegrated into wrenching sobs.

  “You’re just as pathetic as that low-life turned out to be!” Ray Bradington thundered as he walked into the room, a man even larger than his stats conveyed. “You were working in a donut shop when I met you. This house, your designer clothes, and your six-hundred dollar shoes all came from me. But I’ve got bad news for you, Carly. You might as well have married that nobody sax player. According to my accountant, you’ll soon be asking for your old job back at Donut Land.” Ray’s massive hand waved through the air. “Your perfect world is about to come crashing down. So why don’t you take a hike with your crybaby pals? Here’s an idea… you can all go out for donuts.”

  Carlene ran at Ray so fast Nate had no time to react. But if they wanted to end this, he had to give Bradington enough rope to hang himself.

  “What did you do?” Carlene pounded on his chest with her fists.

  Bradington grabbed her by both wrists. “You little fool. If you would have kept your mouth shut in the ER, we’d be sitting pretty right now. But you had to sneak around behind my back with that skinny musician. Why, because he’s just so sensitive? I saw you in Jimmy’s Downunder that night, hanging all over the guy, mesmerized as though Danny Andre was Satchmo come back from the dead.”

  Nate had heard and seen enough. “Let go of her, Bradington.” He closed the gap between them.

  Ray’s hateful glare turned from his wife. “I don’t know who you are, but I suggest you stay out of this. If you know what’s good for you and your little friend.”

  “Forget about them. Talk to me, Ray!” Carlene screamed. “What did you do to Danny?”