Mrs. Winslow's Daughter

"Did you get the feeling that she and Tony were planning to have one of their own?" I asked.

"I don't think so. Frankly she told me in confidence, but since she is dead. I guess I can tell it. She told me she was thinking about divorcing Tony. I expect it was because he didn't want kids." She looked thoughtful, then added, "At least that was part of it."

She didn't go on so I asked, "What was the other part?"

"I think she had met someone else. She never exactly said, but I just got the feeling that toward the end she was moving closer to leaving her husband."

I tried but she didn't seem to know any more. In the car I asked, "Mrs. Winslow did you have any idea Robin might be considering leaving Tony?"

"None, I am shocked," Mrs Winslow said.

"Didn't your investigator find out?" I asked.

"He was looking at Tony, not my daughter," she replied defensively.

"If she had mentioned divorce to her husband, it certainly gave him a stronger motive to kill her," I admitted.

Mrs. Winslow had a picture of both Tony and Robin. I used those pictures to try to jog the memories of the clerks in the two boutiques. I found clerks who remembered Robin without too much trouble. Neither of them knew anything except that Robin had been a rather particular customer. She had always bought the best of everything, but she was picky. She was careful to buy only things which didn't emphasis her weight problem.

The weight thing reminded me of the gym. We tried it after the shops. I found the manager who explained that she didn't really have any dealing with the customers after they had signed the contract. She did allow me to interview the various weight loss instructors. The problem was, we were at the gym in the early morning. Robin worked out after lunch three days a week. If we wanted to speak with the instructor who had the most dealing with her, it would require a visit the next day after lunch.

"Why don't we go to lunch at the restaurant by the interstate?" I suggested.

When we arrived, I thought we were in the wrong place. The restaurant was one of those family places. I was very much at home in the place, but I doubted Robin would have been on a regular basis. To spend fifty bucks at that restaurant, she would have had to feed six people.

I guessed immediately that the motel attached to the restaurant might be the real attraction. I wondered why the hell she would be paying for the room if she were having an affair. Surely the man would pay, even in those days of women's lib. The only way to find out was to ask.

The clerk wouldn't even look at the photographs until Mrs. Winslow broke out the cash. I showed him first the picture of Tony. I still had hopes that it was Tony who charged the room. It would make more sense for him to pay the bill than for Robin to pay.

He didn't recognize Tony. On the other hand he did recognize Robin. "Sure," he said. "That's Jenny. She used to come in a couple of times a week, but she hasn't been in lately."

"I don't expect so, she was murdered six months ago." I waited for that to sink in. "So tell me did she check in with anyone?"

"No, but I'm sure she was meeting someone," he said.

"Why are you so sure?" I asked.

"Because she stayed only a couple of hours. Nobody checks into this place for two hours unless it is for a quickie," he replied with a smile. I hadn't explained that Mrs. Winslow was 'Jenny's' Mother.

"Did you ever see the man?" I asked.

"No, I never did," he replied. "She checked in, then left the key in the room when she was finished. She wasn't a hooker or anything was she?"

"No," I replied.

"I didn't think so, she had way too much class for that," he replied.

"Tell me why her credit card receipts have the restaurant as the charge?" I asked.

"Take a look at this place. We do it for the business," he admitted.

"You have a lot of short term guests then?" I asked.

"You bet," he replied.

We had lunch in the parking lot restaurant. "You know it is hard for me to believe that my daughter was having an affair. At least with a man who could not afford to pay for the motel," Mrs. Winslow said seriously.

"I know, that is bothering me some," I replied. "Where would she come into contact with someone like that, and why would she be considering divorcing her husband for such a man?"

"Love is a strange thing, Mr. Taft," she said with a sad little smile.

"I guess we might as well go buy some gas," I suggested.

"I suppose so," she agreed.

The first station was the one where Tony bought his gas. It was a self service station near his home. The clerk recognized the picture but knew nothing more than Tony seemed to be a nice man.

The second station was a little better. Robin had bought her gas at one of the few full service stations in the city. The owner knew her car, better than her. At least that's what he told us. As I had done at every other place, I obtained a list of his employees as of the date of Robin's death. I had been compiling the list to cross check with the gun purchases when the records arrived. It was a real long shot, but we were reduced to playing long shots.

After we left the station, I suggested that we stop by the police crime lab. I wanted to talk face to face with the tech who had gathered the evidence. We managed to get him away from the lab. In the snack bar over coffee he explained his actions and his initial concerns about the detectives's apparent lack of enthusiasm.

"At the time, there was just nothing to go on. As a matter of fact nothing really ever developed. I understand that everyone 's conclusion was that the woman was just a random victim. You know, in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said.

"You know I have one little problem with all of this, I never got to see the items collected from her home. Surely things were taken from her home."

"We examined a few things but returned them to her husband's lawyer. Since none of it was important, we couldn't keep it," he declared.

"Did you make a list of the items before you released them?" I asked.

"Sure, didn't you get it?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so. Do you have a copy?"

"Absolutely, it's in my notebook. I can get it for you now," he suggested.

While the tech went for the list, I tried to think of anything to help move our investigation along. Nothing came to mind. After the tech had given me the list, he returned to work. Mrs. Winslow and I drove to her house.

I was seated at the library table when I said, "I need to think out loud a minute. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure, I am interested in what you think," she replied.

"Okay, starting at the beginning, we have to assume that the torn clothes were a red herring. The killer wanted us to think that it was an attempted rape gone bad," I suggested. "Or that the killer was a man," I mused. "Maybe Robin was killed by a woman."

"Is that likely?" Mrs. Winslow asked. "I would think the amount of strength required to rip a bra would be more likely in a man."

"It would indeed, but let's not close our minds to any possibility. We are pretty sure Robin was having an affair. If so, it might have been her lover, or maybe he was married and it was his wife."

"I still think it was Tony," Mrs. Winslow said.

"Like I said, let's not close our minds just yet. However, maybe Tony was fooling around too. He could have hired someone to do the hit, but how did he pay him. There is no money missing,"

"Maybe he had a secret bank account," she suggested.

"His only income was from his job, maybe you can get someone to run the figures. You know, see if there is a chuck of money unaccounted for," I suggested. Mrs. Winslow made a note on a legal pad.

"What we really need to know is who Robin was seeing at that motel. Now how do we go about it?" I asked.

"If she didn't tell her best friend, then she didn't tell anyone," Mrs. Winslow stated.

"Let's go at this another way. She met the man at lunch a couple of times a week. You probably could answer this better than me. Why lunch time?"

"Maybe it was the only time he could get away. Robin didn't work so she could have met him anytime during the day without any problem, so it must have been his problem," she replied.

"Can we assume, he at least had a job?" I asked with a smile.

"Yes, but he didn't have enough money for the motel room," she replied.

"Maybe he did have the money, but was afraid to leave a trail. He had her register and pay so that he wouldn't be seen with her," I suggested.

"Of course, we were looking at it wrong. He couldn't pay without leaving a trail. If Robin had to leave the trail, then she had less to lose than the man. That makes a lot more sense," Mrs. Winslow said. She seemed somehow relieved that her daughter had at least taken up with a man of means.

"That actually is bad news. It means the man covered his tracks well and that if we find him, he probably won't cop to it," I suggested. "That said, do you have any ideas?"

"Not right off the top of my head," she admitted.

"She wasn't into politics, was she?" I asked.

"No, I don't think Robin even knew who the president was," Mrs. Winslow admitted.

"You said Robin was on your company's board, could it have been someone there?" I asked.

"Men on the board are all in their seventies," she admitted.

"You keep thinking about it anyway, just to humor me," I replied shortly.

She nodded, then sat quietly for a while. "I can't think of anyone. How about dinner, it's that time you know."

"No offense to your cooking but could we order something brought in? I think I would like a pizza," I suggested.

She actually laughed. "I don't really like to cook, I was just doing it to show my appreciation. Pizza would be fine."

After the pizza I tried to get my mind off the case for a while. I sat in front of the television watching a mindless comedy. Mrs. Winslow sat beside me on the sofa but certainly not close.

"Taft, tell me something," she demanded. "Don't you get lonely living out in the woods?"

"I never thought about it. After I left the department, I needed the solitude to wind down. Now that you have dragged me back, I don't know how I will feel when I return," I replied honestly.

"I wasn't thinking about that, I was asking about women. Don't you miss the female companionship?"

"I was married until I went to live in the woods. I sure as hell don't miss that companionship." I replied.

"You may be the best detective in the world but you are dense as a post. Don't you miss the sex?" she asked.

I was a little surprised by her question. "To tell you the truth there wasn't much of that at the end of my marriage. I suppose I got used to it not being available. To answer your question, I just never thought about it." I thought about it for the first time. Mrs. Winslow remained silent while I did.

"How long have you been a widow?" I asked.

"Three years, but that wasn't an offer," she stated. "I have been with other men since my husband's death. I was actually seeing someone up until a couple of months ago."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Mr. Taft, rich women do not marry poor men. John worked for me. I should never have started up with him. He was too young for me anyway." She said it sadly. She obviously missed him.

"How young is too young?" I asked.

"He was forty. I am not going to tell you how old I am," she said smiling at me.

"Where is this John now?" I asked.

"Home with his wife and kids, I expect," she replied. "Could we not talk about him?"

"Not a problem for me," I replied.

"Edgar, I lied earlier. It was an offer," she said quietly with her eyes down.

"I don't know what to say, except that I am highly flattered. I do have a problem with it though. At this particular moment, I need to stay focused and I couldn't do that if we were involved. I mean you would be a constant distraction. If you will hold that thought for a day or two, I would be most honored to accept your kind offer."

"You mean we should wait until this is over?" she asked.

"I think that would be best," I agreed. Far from being angry as I had feared, she took it as a great joke.

"In that case, I will tell you that I may not look like a sex pot, but everyone tells me I am great in bed. So let that be an incentive for you to solve this quickly."

We sat closer on the sofa during the evening news. I went to bed alone that night. I had second and third thoughts as the night drew out.

At breakfast the next morning I asked, "Were you seeing this John at the time of Robin's murder?"

"Yes, but John couldn't have had anything to do with her death. He and Robin hardly knew each other," she replied.

"I know, but he was involved in the family life at the time. I really should talk to him. Could you arrange a non confrontational meeting?"

"We can just drop in on him. He does work for me."

John proved to be a wimpy little man. I doubted that he would have had the strength to pull the body from the path let alone rip Robin's clothes. On the other hand, he was very nervous when he spoke to me. I had the feeling all was not well with Johnny boy. While we spoke, I checked out his office. I found a very bad photograph of his family on the desk. The lighting was so poor the only thing I could tell for sure was that his wife was at least four inches taller than Johnny boy.

After the meeting we made the short drive from Avery to Greenpoint. We met with Robin's workout trainers. They expressed their regrets about Robin's murder, but really couldn't help us.

I asked just in passing, how Robin had come to join a gym so far from her home. There were several gyms closer. One of them was much fancier. None of the instructor could give me an answer.

I returned to the manager's office. The woman behind the desk was more than happy to allow me access to Robins records. There was nothing in them of course. I was on my way out the door following Mrs. Winslow, when the instructor called me back.

Mrs. Winslow kept going, "I didn't want to say anything in front of Robin's mother, but I know why Robin came here. I think she was having an affair with an instructor in the Avery branch of our Gym. The instructor recommended us to her. The way she talked about the instructor I felt like they might be real close, if you get my drift."

I nodded then asked, "Who was the instructor?"

"I don't know her whole name but Robin called her Molly," the girl said. "This isn't going to cause me any problems is it?"

"I don't see how," I admitted.

Son of a bitch, I thought as I walked to meet Mrs. Winslow. This was getting complicated. I suppose the motel meeting could have been with a woman. There seemed to be one hell of a tangle in Robin's life.

I was left with the unenviable job of telling Mrs. Winslow. I decided not to say anything for a while. After the meeting at the gym, I tried to think of something else to do. Nothing came to mind, so I convinced Mrs. Winslow to drive me to her house. On the way I suggested we stop in the Avery branch of the Gym. Molly just happened to be working at the time. She was absolutely covered in sweat and her hair hung down in strings.

I convinced Mrs. Winslow to allow me to talk to Molly in private. Molly admitted to knowing Robin, but laughed when I hinted at a love affair.

"Where on earth did you hear that. I am a happily married woman with two kids," she said with a sigh. "I get that kind of crap all the time because I look butch." She took it good naturally.

"So how did you happen to know Robin?" I asked.

"Actually, I met her here. She stopped by for one of our free trial offers. She looked the place over, then came a couple of times on the trial. About that time she moved to Greenpoint. Since we have a facility nearer to there, I suggested she join it instead of making the even longer drive here every day or so."

I was more than a little thankful that I didn't have to tell Mrs. Winslow about the insinuation that her daughter was having an affair with a woman. Of course, it didn't get me one bit closer to the killer.

That evening over a dozen white boxes of Chinese take-out, I said, "We have to figure out who the boyfriend was. If we know that, then we can start beating on Tony's cage."

Mrs. Winslow asked the pertinent question, "I know the dodge about the restaurant had to appeal to Robin, but how did she find out about the place?"

"She surely didn't ask any of her girlfriends, maybe the man knew," I suggested.

"Maybe it was a lucky accident," she countered.

"How so?"

"What if the reason they chose that motel had nothing to do with the billing, at least not at first. Suppose they chose it because it was close to the interstate," she suggested.

"As in the boyfriend was from out of town?" I asked.

"Right, she might have phone calls on her home phone bill."

"The cops already checked the phone bill," I replied remembering having seen a copy in the files.

"Maybe they didn't know what they were looking for," she added.

"How so?" I asked.

"If Tony lied about the tape player, maybe he lied about the calls. He could have identified the numbers as those he had called."

In some twisted way it might make sense. I went through the files until I found the bills. I handed them to Mrs. Winslow to check. She went through them without any comment. "I don't see a thing. She made a lot more calls to me than I would have thought, but nothing else."

"How so?" I asked.

"There are several calls here to the plant. I didn't realize she called me so often," she said.

Little things make the difference between a run of the mill detective and a good one. I picked up on it, then tied it to my previous thinking. "Mrs. Winslow, what if the man kept his affair with you daughter quiet, not from fear of his wife or the publicity but fear of you. Could she have been having an affair with an employee of your husband's company?" I asked.

"That's ridiculous, as I said the men she came into contact with were seventy or more years old."

"Humor me again, could you find out who those calls went to?" I asked.

"Incoming calls are not logged," she informed me.

"Maybe our man called her, would it be on the log, if he called her?" I asked.

"Absolutely," she informed me going to the phone. It was well past the closing hour of the plant.

"Mrs. Winslow, could you make sure it is a woman whom you call. I would hate to speak to the man who made the calls. If he buried them, we might never find out who it was," I suggested.

"Are you thinking Mike?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Not really, I just don't want to take any chances," I admitted.

"All right, I have the company directory around here somewhere. Mrs. Brown is the communications manager. She should be able to run it down."

She made the call, then we waited for Mrs. Brown to go to the office. While we waited, I asked Mrs. Winslow if the gun store records were ready. We might have a name to check against it soon.

The information was in her computer, she just hadn't checked. The names were all in alphabetical order regardless of the date of purchase. That research company was a marvel.

Mrs. Brown called with the names shortly after nine. Mrs. Winslow was of course on the log, as was her former boyfriend John Matlin. One call could have been explained as a call concerning her mother, but twenty-four calls in the two months preceding Robins murder were going to be a bitch to explain.

"That son of a bitch was seeing my daughter and me at the same time," Mrs. Winslow shouted. "I'm going to kill that prick." She was sobbing hard by the time she finished her conversation.

I left her to sob while I checked the gun purchases. Neither Tony nor Matlin's names were on the list, but Robin's was. Tony hadn't mentioned to the cops that Robin had a .380.