Soft Case: (Book 1 in the John Keegan Mystery Series) Read online

  “True.”

  Before we got to the door, a large wood one with an ornate brass knocker, it opened, and a man dressed in a tan pair of slacks and white polo shirt stood there, eyeing us. Security, no doubt. I scanned him quickly, to see if he was carrying a gun. None that I noticed.

  “Detective Keegan,” the man said. Some camera that guy had. He was fairly tall, say about 6'2", built similarly to Rick. He had short light brown hair. He looked like an ex-military type. They never lose that look.

  “Yes, and this is Detective Calhill, my partner.”

  “I was said to expect you.” By whom, I wondered.

  “Is Mrs. Mullins here?” I asked, knowing full well she was. “Yes. But she is busy contacting relatives at the moment. As I am sure you know, this is a difficult time for her.”

  “I do. When need to speak to her for only a few moments. We just need some information.”

  “What sort of information?”

  “About her husband.” I walked closer to him. “Listen, I understand you are trying to protect your employer. We don’t wish to cause her any more grief, but in order to find out exactly what happened to her husband, we need to speak to her. We know she was in the Bahamas, and we are not considering her a suspect.”

  “You guys consider everyone a suspect.”

  “You know what I mean. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Just let us do our jobs, and we will be on our way.”

  He thought about that for a moment. “Come in,” he said, “but I can’t promise that she will talk to you. She may only refer you to her lawyer.”

  I wanted to tell him that, by law, I could just bring her down to the precinct and sort it all out there. I figured he knew that, and so did she.

  We walked in to the house, the foyer, actually, which had shiny ceramic tiles and a Persian rug, along with a small chandelier. Nice place. A brass-trimmed mirror was on the left wall, and a fancy painting, one of a garden, was on the other. He led us into the room to the left, which I would say was the sitting room, with large bookcases, all half full, and a couch and two chairs. This room was painted an off-white, and had a painting of Mr. And Mrs. Mullins on the far wall. Unless the artist decided to be creative, she was some looker. Made Roseanna look like a run of the mill girl.

  “Have a seat, and I will tell Mrs. Mullins that you wish to speak to her.”

  “Please,” I said, obviously feigning politeness. It’s really the only way I can pull it off.

  The guy gave me a look, then left the room.

  “Nice painting,” Rick said. “You gonna ogle this one the way you did the housekeeper?”

  “Only if that picture is a correct representation.”

  “This is a serious investigation,” Rick said.

  “And I am a serious investigator. What my eyes do serves a purpose. Don’t worry.”

  “Whatever.”

  We waited for about ten minutes, and then Mr. Security Guard came back in the room. He looked bothered, defeated.

  “She’ll see you. Give her a minute or so.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate it,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he replied, then walked out of the room, to return to his ever-so-important duties.

  Not more than thirty seconds after he left, Sondra Mullins walked into the room. She was the sort of woman who took control of whatever room she entered. She had blonde hair that came down to her shoulders, with a sort of curl at the end, and a body to die for. I figured her to be about 5'5", and she certainly had her breasts, um, augmented I think is the right word. What made her so attractive was her face. It was near perfect. Her eyes were big and blue, her small nose was appropriate, and she had nice, pouty lips. Someone up above surely wanted me to concentrate on other things besides this case. Looking at her, I really doubted that Mullins committed suicide.

  Not with a wife like that.

  “Detectives,” she said, in a deep, sultry voice. Man.

  “We’re sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” Rick said, standing up.

  “I understand,” she said. Nothing about her hinted at the fact that she grieved. She seemed composed, normal. Almost too normal. “This has been such a shock,” she said.

  Sondra moved to the couch, sitting about fifteen feet away from us. She reached into a small box on the table next to her. “Do you mind if I smoke?” she asked.

  I reached for my pack. “So long as I can, too.”

  “Of course. Ron never liked my doing this,” she said, talking with the long cigarette dangling from her mouth. She lit it, took a long inhale, then exhaled slowly, seductively. She was good.

  “We would just like to ask you a few questions, so we might find out what happened to your husband,” I said, lighting my own cigarette. I attempted a masculine drag, but it just can’t be forced. DeNiro could do it. Others look normal. Unless you’re one of those guys that does it Asian-style, from the side.. Trust me, only Asians can do it and make it work. Don’t try.

  “Of course.” She exhaled through the corner of her mouth, perfectly and then took another drag. She made it look like, well, you know.

  “When was the last time you and your husband spoke?” I asked. Rick whipped out his notepad and began jotting all of this down.

  “Monday night. I had just arrived at our condo in the Bahamas,” Sondra said.

  “Was he supposed to go with you?”

  “Yes, but he canceled at the last minute. Something to do with the company. He never tells me much about that. Probably because he knows I am not too concerned.”

  “How did he act for the last few months?” I asked.

  “Stressed.”

  “Can you explain that further?” Rick asked.

  “Well, he is always, was always, uptight. He worried about every aspect of his business, which I guess made him such the successful man he was.”

  “But he was more stressed than usual?”

  “Yes,” Sondra said. She moved her eyes from Rick to me, and just catching her stare made my knees weak. Really.

  “In what way?”

  “He was short-tempered. He was never short-tempered.”

  “Never?” I asked.

  “Never.”

  “Do you know what about, exactly?” I asked.

  “Well, I am sure you know about his political aspirations. He had been thinking about that a lot, as well as other things.” She took another drag of her cigarette, looking right into my eyes as she did so.

  I looked at Rick. It was always good to get confirmation of a rumor. “Those rumors were true? He was considering running for Senate in the upcoming election?”

  “Yes. He probably would have won, too. Everyone liked him. The public, the press, politicians. He knew how to talk to people, knew how to make them feel comfortable. That’s why I married him. He made me feel secure.”

  “Okay. What other things were you talking about?” I asked.

  She looked around the room, as if she would tell me something she shouldn’t. It seemed like an act, far as I could tell. “He planned on ending his partnership with Harold Chapman. He was done with the software business. Harold would take full control of the corporation. He was going to buy Ron out,” Sondra said.

  Interesting. “Was that his idea?”

  “I believe so,” Sondra shifted in her seat. Normally, that signaled discomfort. For her, nothing came across that way. Honestly, I only hoped I’d get a peek at her butt. Hey, I am who I am.

  “Do you have any idea how Harold felt about it?”

  “He didn’t like it at first. You know, Harold is a shrewd man, but he can’t run certain aspects of the business the way Ron could. I think he was worried. No doubt the stock price would tumble when people found out Ron was no longer involved,” Sondra said. Everything that came out of her mouth had an intonation added to it, seemingly on purpose. This woman had made a life out of appearances. She knew how to doctor things, make things go her way.

  “So, he had a lot of money at stake,” Rick sai
d.

  “Ron told him not to worry about that, that if Harold wanted, he would consider staying on for a while as a consultant or something. Just enough to keep the public comforted, until someone with his technical expertise could be found to replace him.”

  “Do you know for sure what led your husband to such a decision, leaving the company his father started?” I asked,

  “Politics, mainly. That was what he originally wanted to go to college for. Even though he made a ton of money with Techdata, he always considered it his father’s company. He wanted to do something on his own.” Sondra flicked the cigarette into the ashtray with her thumb ever so carefully.

  I could understand what she said. Mullins had a label on him, probably put there himself, that he was successful only because of his father. It must have been difficult, although I have to admit my jealousy trumped my understanding.

  “That was a major decision to make. When did this come about?”

  “About three months ago. He told Harold at a convention in California.”

  “Were you there?”

  “Yes,” Sondra said, finishing her cigarette, “I was. I always go to the conventions in the United States. I don’t bother with the ones out of the country. Not much I can do there. If I want to go to a foreign country, I go for vacation, not to hang around with a bunch of boring computer people.”

  Computer people certainly weren’t her type. She was a glamour person. I could see that. It oozed out of her.

  “Any idea where your husband was going yesterday, before the accident?” Rick asked, taking a break from his notes.

  “You mean the day he killed himself?” She said this flatly. “I’m not sure. He didn’t tell me anything, if that’s what you are asking.”

  “So, you’re certain it was a suicide?” I asked.

  “Isn’t that what you think?” Good flip, Sondra.

  “We’re not sure. Do you think your husband was suicidal?” I asked.

  “Ron was an extremely emotional person. He had been acting strange lately, depressed. Lord knows he shouldn’t have been. The money he would get from the buyout would have been more than enough to live comfortably on. He would have been able to fund his own campaign, if he wanted to, and the Governor was about to announce that he supported Ron for the Senate position. Everything he wanted came together, but he wasn’t happy with it. I think he felt he betrayed his father by getting out of the business.”

  That would explain Mullins’ comment on the answer machine tape about his father. At least, it could explain that. I thought about mentioning the tape to Sondra, but that would have to wait for when we officially took her down to the station and questioned her. I didn’t want her lawyer finding out about that. I needed to cover my bases.

  “Do you know what his mother thought about the whole thing? Did she approve of the decision to sell her late husband’s business?”

  “Jackie? She could have cared less about Techdata. She hated the company from its inception. From what I know, she never wanted Ron to get involved. She liked the idea that he wanted to get into politics in high school, and I think his father’s urging to get him into computers led to their divorce.”

  So, that’s why the mother kept her maiden name.

  “Speaking of divorce,” I said, knowing I was treading dangerous ground, “there have been rumors about marital trouble with you and your husband. Were they true?”

  “I don’t see how that is pertinent,” Sondra said. We finally found something to make her uncomfortable.

  “Everything is pertinent.”

  “Are you considering me a suspect?”

  “With a rock solid alibi? Don’t think so,” I said. “Anything’s possible, of course.”

  She looked around the room again, then met my eyes in a way women do at a bar when they want to talk to you. Sort of seductive, and very inquisitive. I knew the look, even if I didn’t get it all that often.

  “We had our troubles. All married couples do, I suppose. Especially when you are in the public eye the way we were. It just goes along with the territory.”

  “I guess it does. How would you describe your relationship up until now?” I asked. I wanted to ask if she had any bedroom photos, or if she had a position preference, or, plainly, if she wanted to get it on right there.

  “We got along fine. I was happy to see him get away from the company. It brought him down. He really had nothing else to contribute. He was done with it, had been for a few years. If you know the business, then you know that Techdata really hasn’t come up with anything groundbreaking in a long time. They have just been rehashing old technology. I guess that’s what most companies are doing now. I can’t say I was really happy about him getting into politics, but at least that would be more exciting than software. I knew he was good for it. I knew he would succeed.”

  All throughout this, I watched Sondra closely. Partly because I wanted to try and see what she was feeling, and whether or not she was hiding. I also watched her because, when in her presence, you have to watch her. You really have no choice. The woman had charisma, a certain chemistry.

  “Back to your husband’s state, can you think of anything that could be interpreted as suicidal behavior?”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, suicidal people tend to give things away, things that at one time were important to them. They also can be angry, apologetic. Can you think of anything?” I asked. For once, I actually ran an investigation, even if Rick contributed.

  “Well, in a sense, he was giving away his company, if that counts. As far as the other stuff, I just don’t know. He seemed to want more time to spend with his kids. He seemed upset that he couldn’t go with us to the Bahamas.”

  “Did you press him for why he wasn’t going?”

  “I never pressed him on things like that. That was his business; he had to do what he had to do. No sense in making him more miserable. He had enough on his hands.”

  “So,” Rick said, “you’re saying that your husband could have conceivably killed himself. You think he was capable.”

  This statement drew a look of discomfort from Sondra.

  “Oh my God, I don’t know.” Her eyes began to water. I watched closely, to see if she put on an act. I couldn’t tell, either because she truly had a hard time with this, or could really act.

  “I’m sorry if this is difficult, ma’am, we just need to know.”

  “I understand,” she said. “This is just so difficult. And it has been very hard on his children.”

  “Of course,” Rick said. “Do you know of anyone who might want to kill your husband?”

  “Kill him? Everyone liked him,” Sondra said. She made it sound completely believable, and from what I could tell early on, most people felt this way about Mullins.

  “Could there have been someone who had something to gain from his death?” Rick asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Was there anyone who would have benefited from his passing?” I asked, wanting to get back into the conversation.

  “Well, his insurance policy obviously won’t pay if his death is deemed a suicide,” Sondra said, obviously feeling like a suspect.

  “I know,” Rick said. “What about his will?”

  “To be honest, I am not that familiar with it. I am sure that his half of the company went to the kids and I. He probably gave something to charity; he was a very charitable person. Other than that, I don’t know.” Hmm, I thought. I found it unlikely she had no idea what her husband’s will contained. Mrs. Keegan didn’t raise a fool.

  “What about the sale? Will it go through even though he has passed away?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I haven’t even thought about that. I want to see what our children think. I want to know if either of them would be interested in working there. I think his son might.”

  That struck me, the part about the sale. It made me doubt that the partner had any ulterior motives. He obviously would have benefited more if Mul
lins sold him the company outright, instead of having the wife and the heirs to deal with. If what Sondra said was true, then she had the power to stop the sale. No reason why Chapman would want to deal with that on purpose. At least, there was no reason I could think of. And I had my mind in the most suspicious mode possible.

  That’s what I thought.

  “Well, if you could, I would like you to try and think over the next day or two, who might want your husband dead,” I said.

  “You think he was murdered?” she said, her voice raising in tone. “This wasn’t a suicide?” I wondered what made it harder on her, thinking her husband killed himself, thereby indicating he felt unhappy, something she could be to blame for, or thinking someone killed him. I couldn’t come up with an answer.

  “We don’t know, Mrs. Mullins. We have to consider every possibility. Suicides, especially those of prominent figures, are investigated as murders until the suicide is proven,” Rick said.

  She nodded. She was done. Maybe because she couldn’t handle anymore, or maybe her pre-made script had ended. Either way, she stood up.

  “If you don’t mind, I have many things to handle,” she said.

  “Of course,” I said, standing up. Rick looked like he wanted to stay, ask more questions. It would have been of no use. I handed Sondra a business card. “Please contact us if you think of anything else.”

  She looked up at me, that seductive look coming back. I figured she just couldn’t turn that off, ever. No wonder they had some problems in the past. The woman was a five-alarm fire. “I will.”

  We got up and left the sitting room. Sondra made her way up the stairs to the left of the room. Standing in the foyer was the security guard. I really wondered why the Mullins family needed so much security. I decided to ask the guy a few questions. Partly because I wanted to break his balls, and partly because it might help the investigation. In that order.

  “Thanks for the help, um,” I said.

  “Steve.”

  “Yes, Steve. And being that you’ve been such a big help today, I figured you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions.”

  Stevie wasn’t too happy about it, but I think he realized it was best to give me what I wanted, to get rid of me. Maybe he porked the missus, and wanted to get back to business. I couldn’t blame him for that. As a matter of fact, I developed a new respect for him because it was possible.