On Deadly Ground (9 page)
Back in the Yukon, Books placed the empty can of Guinness into an evidence bag and tagged it. He glanced at his watch and then tried to raise Brian Call on the radio and then on his cell phone. Call answered his cell.
“This is Call.”
“Brian, it's J.D. Are you still in St. George?”
“That's affirmativeâjust getting ready to head back.” The call was breaking up.
“What did you find out from the crime lab?”
“We got some good news. The fingerprint technician reported finding a comparable thumb print on the plastic sandwich baggie and prints galore on the two beer cans. Nothing on the shell casing or the note, though. They ran the prints locally and through the state systemâno hits.”
“What about the FBI?”
“They submitted them to the Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System earlier this morning and haven't received a response.”
Books told Call about his interview with Lance Clayburn and about the Guinness beer can from Clayburn's home. “I'll meet you part way between Kanab and St. George. I'd like you to take the beer can back to the lab and see if Clayburn's prints are on it. If they are, let's see if we got a match with the prints on the sandwich baggie and the beer cans recovered from the crime scene.”
“How did you manage to get an empty beer can out of Clayburn's house?”
“The old fashioned way. I told him I was thirsty. He offered me a choice of beverages. I chose beer, and he handed me a can of Guinness. Simple.”
“You sneaky bastard.” Call was obviously pleased.
“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Hear anything from ballistics?”
“Not yet. The slug they removed from Greenbriar's Suburban was pretty badly damaged. The rifling grooves may not be comparable even if we do come up with the murder weapon.”
“We've got a shell casing. At least that gives us the manufacturer of the ammo and the caliber of the bullet.”
***
Books returned to his office. He placed a call to the sheriff. Sutter's secretary told him the sheriff was out. Books asked her to raise him on the radio and have him stop by.
His secretary handed him telephone messages from Doug Case and Neil Eddins, as well as an envelope addressed to him. The flower-covered envelope had the distinct smell of lavender. He opened it and found a note from Rebecca Eddins inviting him to a barbeque in his honor at the home of her parents on Wednesday evening. She indicated that his sister and brother-in-law, as well as his father, had accepted invitations. That stopped him cold. Since his return he'd managed to avoid having any contact with his father. Becky wrote her home phone number and asked him to RSVP.
Ordinarily, Books would never have attended a social event like this one while in the throes of a murder investigation. In this case, he decided to make an exception. Dinner at the home of the leader of the CFW might prove interesting. Perhaps David Greenbriar's killer would be there.
His phone rang. It was Grant Weatherby. “Afternoon, Grant. What's up?”
“Hey, J.D. I just got a call from a contact who works in security for the Hard Rock Resort and Casino. The security tapes reveal that Darby Greenbriar's mystery guest spent about three hours prior to dinner on Saturday afternoon at the black jack and craps tables. I guess he dropped some serious cash, too.”
“Huh. Did they happen to show the security tape to the room service staff?”
“Sure did,” said Weatherby. “The waiter made a positive identification. He says it's the same guy who answered the door to Darby's suite when he delivered dinner. Do you want the tape?”
“Maybe, but just have them hold on to it for now. I'll let you know.”
Books left a message for Becky Eddins accepting her invitation to the barbeque. Reluctantly he returned phone calls to Neil Eddins and Doug Case. Both men objected to the tenor of the previous day's press conference, but for different reasons.
Eddins complained vehemently that Books left the media with the impression that David Greenbriar's killer, in all likelihood, would turn out to be a local, someone with a strong anti-environment point of view. Eddins didn't mention the CFW by name, but he didn't have to. However, he ended the call on a conciliatory note. He welcomed J.D. back to Kanab and wished him well in his newfound career. He made it clear that he was looking forward to continuing their discussion at Wednesday night's barbeque.
Doug Case took a different but still critical approach. As Chairman of the Kane County Commission, Case was concerned that the press conference had created the false impression that there was a conspiracy in the community to hide the identity of the killer until the case became old news and simply disappeared off the media's radar screen.
While Books didn't disagree with either man, he tried harder to mollify Doug Case, because Case was his sister Maggie's father-in-law. Mostly he kept his mouth shut, assumed an apologetic tone, and allowed them to vent. The press conference had accomplished what he intended. His comments had stirred the community pot and provided new information that helped advance the investigation.
While he waited for word from Brian Call in St. George, Books ran criminal history checks on Lance Clayburn and Barry Struthers. Neither man had a record, not in Utah and not nationally. From his conversation with Clayburn, Books doubted that he had served in the military. That would make a latent print match from IAFIS impossible. If Clayburn was mixed up in Greenbriar's murder, the best bet for linking him to the murder was a print match from the beer can taken from his home.
Books knew even less about Barry Struthers. While his criminal record was clean, the physical skirmish he'd had with Greenbriar and the generally testy nature of their relationship had piqued Books' interest. He wanted to get better acquainted with Struthers, and the best way to do that would be a face-to-face sit-down.
He was about to dial Struthers' home phone number when Charley Sutter waltzed into his office as if he didn't have a care in the world.
“Afternoon, Charley. You look like a happy man. What's the occasion?”
“A discussion I just had with Chief Deputy Call.” Sutter sounded downright pleased with himself.
“Don't keep me in suspense. What'd he have to say?”
“He called from the crime lab in St. George. They just matched the latent prints off the beer can you took out of Clayburn's house to the sandwich baggie and empty beer cans found at the murder scene.”
Books leaned back in his chair as Sutter paced back-and-forth. “That is good news, Charley.”
“Damned straight it is. The spoiled-ass rich boy is about to take a fall on a murder beef. Isn't it ironic that Greenbriar's killer turns out to be somebody inside his own organization?”
“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” cautioned Books.
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. The print match is a nice start, but we've still got plenty of work to do. I've seen homicide cases taken to trial with this kind of evidence, but I've never met a prosecutor yet who didn't want a lot more.”
“So what is it you think we should do now?”
“For starters, I'd like to talk with Clayburn againâgive him the opportunity to explain how those beer cans with his prints on them ended up at the murder scene. I also think he lied about his trip to Las Vegas last weekend.”
“You think he hooked up with Darby Greenbriar?”
“Yup.”
“Seems to me that might be a pretty strong motive for murder,” said Sutter.
“Could be. I want to get a search warrant for Clayburn's home. We've got more than enough probable cause for me to go to work on the affidavit.”
“Anything I can do?”
Brian Call poked his head through the office door. “Okay if I come in?”
Before Books could answer, Sutter said, “Absolutely. Get your sorry ass in here, Brian.” The sheriff slapped his chief deputy on the back. Sutter was acting giddy. What a relief for him if Lance Clayburn turned out to be the killer. And to have the whole thing wrapped up in a couple of days couldn't have turned out any better.
Books was about to place a damper on his giddy celebration.
When Sutter and Call had finished their self-congratulations, Books invited them to sit. “We've got a lot of work left to do, so let's get to it. Charley, you asked if there was anything you could do, and, as a matter of fact, there is.”
Sutter looked slightly less giddy now.
“Clayburn told me that he ate lunch around two o'clock at Escobar's Sunday afternoon. Would you drop over there and find out if anybody remembers seeing him.”
“Sure, but I don't see the point.”
“I'm trying to establish a timeline for Clayburn's whereabouts the weekend leading up to the murder. We know he called the EEWA office Friday evening trying to locate our vic. We can place him in Las Vegas on Saturday by his own admission as well as through receipts and witnessesâ¦.”
“Including Darby Greenbriar, right?” said Sutter.
“Possibly, yes. More likely, though, from surveillance tape shot of him at the gaming tables in the Hard Rock Saturday afternoon. A waiter from the casino's room service staff also saw him in Darby's hotel suite that evening.”
“We need to interview Darby again,” said Call, “see if she's ready to fess up to having an affair with Clayburn.”
“I'll do that,” said Books. “In the meantime, Brian, I'm going to give you a list of David Greenbriar's colleagues from Berkeley. I'd like you to call them and find out if anybody called the EEWA office Friday afternoon trying to locate David. The secretary remembers a call from someone who identified himself as an old colleague of David's. The caller said he was coming through Kanab and wanted to stop and see him. Maybe that caller was our killer.”
“Afraid I don't get it,” said Sutter. “That call was made by Lance Clayburn. We already know that.”
“Clayburn did call Friday afternoon,” said Books, “but the secretary says this was a different call, and whoever made it didn't want to leave a name or a phone number.”
“And she's sure it wasn't Clayburn,” said Sutter.
“She insisted it was somebody elseâa different voice.”
“All right, I'll check it out. You got the list?” Books rummaged through the case file until he found the names Lillian Greenbriar had provided. He passed them to Call.
“You want to hear about the autopsy?”
“No need, not unless the ME came up with some unusual finding that might alter the direction of our investigation.”
“Nothin' we didn't expect. The ME said he'd dictate the report right away. We should have a copy in the next day or two.”
Books hesitated. “On second thought, I would be interested in what the ME had to say about the time of death.”
Call removed a small spiral notebook from his shirt pocket and began turning pages. “The ME estimated the time of death between noon and eight P.M. Sunday.”
“Sounds about right,” said Books.
As the meeting adjourned, Books asked Sheriff Sutter to stick around.
“Charley, I want to be sure you and I are on the same page going forward.”
Sutter nodded but didn't say anything.
“Short of a confession from Clayburn, I intend to continue looking at other possible suspects until we can eliminate them.”
“I don't see why that's necessary. We've got our man; I'm certain of it.”
“You might be right, but I've been at this long enough to know that it's a big mistake to focus exclusively on one suspect to the exclusion of others who may also have had motive. And even if it is Clayburn, we need to find out whether he was acting alone or in concert with somebody else.”
“Like Darby Greenbriar?”
“Possibly.”
“Anybody else?”
“At the moment, the short list includes Barry Struthers and Tommy McClain, and, as noted, Darby Greenbriar. That reminds me. I need your list of CFW members. Call already gave me the list of EEWA members that you and he put together.”
“Again, I don't see the point. You don't have anything tying members of the CFW to the murder.”
“Not directly, but one of our remaining suspects threatened the Greenbriars shortly before the murder, and he'd be a CFW member.”
“You mean Trees McClain.”
“Tommy and one of his yet-to-be-identified cohorts.”
Sutter frowned, got up from his chair, walked to the window, and looked out over the BLM parking lot. He turned back to Books and dropped a folded sheet of paper on his desk.
“There you goâknock yourself out. But don't forget who's in charge of this investigation. I intend to keep you on a short leash.”
Books leaned back in his chair and reviewed the list of likely CFW members. It included some predictable names, some he didn't recognize, and a few that surprised him, such as Rusty Steed. Groups like the CFW had sprung up all around the West in response to real or perceived threats from environmental organizations. While Books knew little about the origin of the CFW, he guessed that it was mostly comprised of like-minded locals, intent on lobbying for state and county control of public lands.
Books intended to pressure Neil Eddins into surrendering an official CFW membership list much the way Darby Greenbriar had. He wasn't holding his breath that Eddins would choose to cooperate, however. In the meantime he added the list to a growing murder book.
He wanted to roust Barry Struthers and Trees McClain, but that would have to wait. Instead he needed to schedule another round of interviews with Darby Greenbriar and Lance Clayburn to find out the exact nature of their relationship. Both had lied to him during their first interviews.
His plan called for Sheriff Sutter and Deputy Call to execute the search warrant at Clayburn's home while he questioned Clayburn at the sheriff's office. If everything worked, he would extract a confession from Clayburn while a search of his home yielded additional evidence linking him to David Greenbriar's murder.
It was late in the afternoon when the telephone rang.
“Ranger Books, this is Assistant Medical Examiner Cornelia Wallace. I wanted to let you know that the body of Mr. Greenbriar is ready for release pending your approval.”
“We don't have a problem with that. Would you like me to contact the family for you?”
“Please, that would be helpful. Any questions I can answer for you?”
Books thought for a moment. “I think I know the cause of death. Any other wounds?”
“Not much doubt about cause of death,” said Wallace. “There was significant trauma to the area around the heartârelatively small entry wound but massive damage with the exit wound. He wouldn't have survived if he'd been shot in a hospital parking lot. As for other wounds, nothing majorâsome postmortem light bruising on both legs and one arm, probably caused when the body was moved.”
Books thanked her and disconnected.
He dialed the EEWA office. Celia Foxworthy answered.
“Hi, Celia, this is J.D. Books. I'm looking for Darby. Is she in?”
“She left early this afternoonâpoor girlâshe was sick all morning.”
“That's too bad. Her stress level's probably off the charts.”
“Could be, but I don't think so. If I was a betting woman, I'd say she's pregnant. This wasn't the first morning she's spent with her head in the toilet. I had two boys. I know all about morning sickness.”
“Don't know what to say about that. Bad timing, maybe, or a planned pregnancy. Did she or David ever mention wanting to start a family?”
“Subject never came up, not with either of them.”
“One more thing for her to have to deal with, I guess.”
“I'll look in on her tonight when I get homeâmaybe bring her something to eat.”
“That would be nice.”
Books then asked her to tell Darby that David's body was available at the ME's office in Provo.
“I'll let her know,” said Foxworthy.
“Appreciate it,” said Books. “You might also ask her to call Lillian in Berkeley and discuss the funeral arrangements. I think a small contingent of David's old friends plan to attend the service.”
“Okay.”
Books thought about Darby Greenbriar. While he could empathize with everything she must be going through, he could ill afford to let his feelings interfere with his next round of questions. There were things that only she and Lance Clayburn could answer. And as in every homicide case, time mattered.
He decided to contact David Greenbiar's attorney before he talked to Darby again. Stein would have answers to the estate questions that Darby was either ignorant of or deliberately lying about. When he called, the lawyer's secretary informed him that Stein was in conference with a client and would return the call as soon as he finished.
Thirty minutes later, the phone rang. “Good afternoon, Mr. Stein. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”
“No problem, Ranger Books. How can I help you?”
“I just spoke with the medical examiner. She told me that David's body is ready for release. I assume a funeral service will be scheduled fairly soon.”
“I'll pass that information along to Lillian.”
“Appreciate it. As a part of our investigation, we're trying to determine the specifics of David's estateâfigured you'd be the man to help me with that.”
“Hold on a minute. I'll pull the file.”
A minute later, Stein was back. “What specifically would you like to know?”
“Who stood to gain what in the event of David's death?”
There was a pause. Books could hear the sound of pages turning. Finally, Stein said, “Here we go. It looks like David left a quarter-million dollar life insurance policy with Darby listed as the primary beneficiary.”
“Any secondary beneficiary?”
“Yes, in the event both he and Darby died, the policy proceeds would be split equally between Lillian and the Escalante Environmental Wilderness Alliance.
“Anything else?”
“Yes. There's also a will. I tried to get David to dump it and create a revocable trust, but he never got around to it.”
“That means what?”
“That means nobody gets anything until the matter goes through probate,” said Stein. “There's also the issue of estate taxes. The state of California will end up getting a piece of the estate.”
“What was in the will?”
Stein sighed before continuing. “David left the bulk of his estate to Darby. However, he made several bequests to a small number of friends and to the EEWA.”
“Translate that into dollars for me if you can.”
“Sure. David's university retirement account held between three and four hundred thousand, I'd say closer to four, but I don't have any recent account statements.”
“Not exactly chump change.”
“No, it's not,” said Stein. “He also maintained a small stock account with Charles Schwab. David liked to dabble in individual stocks and took great pride in his stock-picking acumen.”
“And what was that account worth?”
“Just a guess, but I'd say somewhere in the range of fifty thousand.”
“So, Darby stands to inherit roughly six hundred grand, counting the life insurance policy.”
“That's ballpark, but yeah. And that doesn't include the house in Kanab, which she also gets.”
“Tell me something else. Was Darby aware of what was in the estate and what she stood to gain in the event of David's death?”
“Oh, yes. Darby attended several meetings. I'd say she took more than a passing interest in the estate planning.”
“That's odd,” said Books. “The reason I'm calling you about the estate is that Darby professed almost total ignorance about what might be in it.”
“That doesn't make any sense, unless she snoozed through our meetings, and I don't believe she did. She should have been able to fill you in on at least the rudiments of the plan, particularly in this kind of a marriage.”
“What do you mean âthis kind' of marriage?”
“I do a lot of estate planning, Ranger Books, and my experience has been that in the case of trophy wife couples, the young lady often has, how can I discreetly put it, an intense interest in the details of the estate.”
“And Darby was no exception.”
“Most definitely not.”
“Then let me ask you this. Did David ever consider asking Darby to sign a prenuptial agreement?”
“Oh, I suggested it to him on more than one occasion, but I'm afraid David was so smitten that he never seriously considered it. I doubt he and Darby ever discussed it.”
“Is that unusual in trophy wife marriages?”
“Not really,” said Stein. “I'd say in maybe half the cases I see, a prenup becomes part of the estate plan. And in this case, let's face it, David was not a terribly wealthy individual. I think he considered himself a very lucky man to have landed a beautiful young woman twenty years his junior.”
“Let me ask you one more thing. Did David ever mention wanting to start a family with Darby?”
There was a lengthy pause. “Hmm, none of my business, you know, but I want to say that on one occasion, many years ago, Lillian expressed sadness that she had been unable to conceive. You'd better ask her about that.”
“I'll do that. You've been most helpful, Mr. Stein, and I'll look forward to meeting you when you come out for the funeral.”
“Likewise,” said Stein, and the line went dead.