Chapter Thirty-Six
While Lana composed herself. Ellis pulled a folder out from under his notepad and opened it. Lana glimpsed her name on the edge and felt a ripple of fear.
Ellis gave Lana a kindly grin and said, "If you'll just give me a minute.." He didn't wait for a response, instead, he perused the papers inside the folder.
Lana realized he was looking for something and her fear increased.
"Ah, here it is," Ellis said. "It says here, Mrs. Simpson, that you told the police officer who interviewed you on the day after Bruce Tipton's murder, that you and your husband went to bed at eleven-thirty. You never mentioned him leaving the bungalow." Ellis' eyes met Lana's. "Are you saying you lied when you gave this statement?"
Lana sat stock-still for a full half minute and stated defiantly at Ellis. Finally, she spoke. There was a quiver in her voice, "Yes, I lied. You have to understand, I was afraid of my husband. I didn't know if he was a murderer or not. I .. I didn't want him to know that I'd pretended to be asleep. If he knew that I thought he'd kill me for sure." Lana looked to Nancy for support.
Nancy gave a heartfelt nod of understanding. Nancy did understand. Lana's story was a familiar one to police detectives. Wives and girlfriends often lied to protect themselves and their children. Fortunately, in Lana's case, there were no children.
"So," Ellis said, "what you have told me now, about that night and what you are going to tell me, will be the truth?"
"Yes. Absolutely." Lana sat stoically. A hardness had come over her. She was ready to tell her story. Ellis and Nancy needed to hear it so they would understand.
"Very well then, please proceed," Ellis said.
"Okay. Well, after that night I never completely trusted Gary again, although, he seemed fine after that. He was his old self again, the Gary I'd met seven months ago and fallen in love with." Lana sniffed and put a hand to her eye. No tears. Not now. She would be strong.
"But I couldn't get past my doubts .. my fears," she said. "I had to know for sure if he was a murderer or not. I kept thinking about his suitcase. It held the answer to my question. Gary had done something with it that night. I wondered, was he hiding something in it? I told myself that I'd sneak a peek inside the minute I got a chance. I just needed him to leave me alone in the bungalow. Unfortunately, he never did. He stuck by me every second of every day. I wondered if he suspected I'd only been pretending to be asleep that night. If that was the case, then he knew I'd heard him messing around with his suitcase.
"God," she suddenly gasped, "I've been such an emotional wreck the last few days. In public, though, I've tried to put on brave face and hide my turmoil."
In Nancy's mind, Lana had done an exceptional job in that regard. Nancy had not suspected the true level of emotional distress Lana had been under or the depth of her mistrust for her husband. If only Lana had said something to Nancy or Molly. They might have been able to help her.
"Tonight at dinner," Lana said, "Gary ordered a bottle of wine. That was kind of odd. Gary's not a big wine drinker. Actually, he's not a big drinker period. I know I gave him a funny look when he ordered it. He said, 'Let's live a little. Our honeymoon is almost over.'
"Okay, I thought, maybe the wine will settle my nerves. God knows, I needed something to calm me down. I hadn't relaxed in days. I felt like I was always on guard, always wondering what would happen next.
"Anyway, we had a nice dinner and I enjoyed myself in spite of everything that had happened. When we got back to our bungalow, Gary suggested we take a walk on the beach. I was feeling a little woozy from the wine and said I needed to lay down for a bit first. I could tell Gary was disappointed, but he was nice about it and said, okay, that he'd take a walk by himself. He was feeling a little tipsy, too, he said and a short walk on the beach would clear his head.
"The minute he left the bungalow I realized, this was it. This was my chance to look in his suitcase. I think the wine gave me courage. I'm usually not very brave. I remember thinking, I don't care what happens, I just need to know what's in that suitcase. I was prepared to be disappointed. On some level, I wanted to be disappointed. It .. it would be better that way.
Lana was talking fast, her sentences running together. "The suitcase was on a suitcase rack next to the dresser. I jumped off the bed and ran to it. I had to be quick about this. I didn't think Gary would be gone very long.
"I opened the suitcase. It wasn't locked. There were some clothes – shirts and shorts – wadded up. Gary's clothes." Lana was becoming agitated. "I moved them around and felt under them. That's .. that's when I found the knife."
Nancy saw the horror in Lana's eyes.
"The knife was clean. I .. there wasn't any blood on it. But .. but I felt something. The clothes. Where they touched my arm, they were stiff. The clothes, parts of them were stiff." Lana's eyes darted from Ellis to Nancy and back. Did they understand what she was saying?
"I .. I picked one up. A shirt. I held it up. There were brown stains on the front. I .. I almost blacked out. I .. I didn't want to believe it. I tried to rationalize it. It wasn't blood. But .. but instinctively, I knew it was blood." Lana put a fist to her mouth, bit down on her knuckles, and stifled a sob.
"I think some water is in order," Ellis said and pushed back his chair. He went to the door, opened it, and spoke quietly to the officer standing guard.
Nancy offered limited support. "You're doing great, Lana. Just breathe slowly." To offer more support than that might taint the interrogation.
Once Lana had had some water and regained her composure the interrogation resumed.
Ellis got things back on track. "Mrs. Simpson, you told us how you discovered a knife and blood stained clothes in your husband's suitcase. Whose blood did you think was on those clothes?"
Lana's head came up and she stared at Ellis as though he was stupid. "Bruce Tipton's. Gary hid the clothes on the night Bruce Tipton died. It .. it had to be Bruce's blood."
"I believe you're correct. And just so you know, those clothes have been sent to the forensic lab along with the knife that was used to kill Mr. Tipton. The DNA from both will be compared," Ellis curtly informed Lana. Then his voice softened, "Now, if you would, please, tell us what happened next, after you found the clothes and the knife."
Lana's gaze shifted to the table and then to the far wall. "Yes, well, I was dazed and confused. I think I was in shock. I felt like I'd been hit by a car and was just waking up. It was like all the air had been knocked out of me. My mind .. my emotions .. they were reeling. Going a thousands miles a minute. And then I heard the front door open. Gary was back. I .. I wasn't thinking clearly. I couldn't have been. I .. I needed to get out of there. I was frantic. I went to the living room. Gary saw me and I think he was afraid. That's when I realized the knife was still in my hand. I'm not sure exactly how things happened after that. I think he asked me to give him the knife. But you know, I couldn't do that."
Her pleading gaze darted from Ellis to Nancy. "He'd kill me if I gave him the knife. I .. I had to defend myself. I think I lashed out then. I remember cutting him on the arm and hearing him yelp. It must've hurt. That gave me confidence. I felt strong, vindicated. I yelled at him. Said horrible things. Said he'd killed Bruce and I knew it. I'd found the clothes. He didn't deny it, just kept saying I needed to calm down and give him the knife. I couldn't do that though because he'd kill me for sure.
A small sob escaped Lana's pale lips. "It's all a jumble. The next thing I remember is you being there." She pointed at Ellis. "And Nancy asking for the knife."
Lana looked at Nancy and then broke down into uncontrollable sobs. Between sobs she wailed, "Is .. will .. will he live?"
"That remains to be seen," Ellis said and stopped the tape recorder.
The young officer was called in. Lana was now his responsibility. He handcuffed her and led her away. She had a long night ahead of her. She would be fingerprinted, photographed, and eventually led to a jail cell where she would spend the night. What tomorrow held for her was uncertain.
"Thank you for letting me sit in," Nancy said to Ellis as they gathered up their notepads and pens.
Ellis gave her a genuine smile. "My pleasure. I think Mrs. Simpson felt more open to telling the truth with you there."
Quite the compliment, Nancy thought and beamed. "That could be." She dropped the notepad and pen in her handbag. "Um, you know, Mr. Graves' blood might be on some of those clothes in Gary's suitcase."
"Ah, you're absolutely right. I'll make sure to have the lab compare Mr. Graves' DNA with the clothes, too." Ellis graced Nancy with another charming smile.
"Well, there's Frank," Nancy said and flung her handbag over her shoulder. "Thanks again, Detective Ellis." She held out a hand and Ellis shook it.
"I'll keep you and Mr. Hardy in the loop," Ellis said. "You're still in the area for a few more days?"
"We are and we'd appreciate any updates on the case that you deem appropriate." She nodded good-by and turned to the handsome man waiting for her.
Frank was freshly showered and shaved and had a Wal-Mart bag dangling from his hand. The bag instantly piqued Nancy's curiosity. Before she could ask any questions Frank swept her into a one arm embrace and kissed her stolidly on the lips, right there in the Police Station.
The desk sergeant grinned and shook his head. Ellis had already departed so he did not witness this flagrant – flagrant for Frank – display of affection.
"My, my," Nancy said, laying a hand on Frank's chest. "You must have missed me."
"A little," Frank admitted with a huge grin. "All finished here?"
"All finished." Nancy eyed the bag in Frank's hand and then looked up at him. "What's in the bag?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out."
"I am trying to find out." She laughed and his heart soared. He loved it when she was happy.
He kissed the tip of her nose. "You'll find out when we get to our bungalow."
She made a pouty face. "I have to wait that long? I don't know if I can bare it."
"Sorry," he said and shifted the bag behind his back. The items clanked together.
"Glass!" Nancy was quite happy with her deduction, but then a puzzled frown furrowed her brow. "You bought glasses?"
Frank looked affronted. "No, of course not."
Nancy started to wrap her arms around Frank, but he saw the maneuver for what it was. "Oh no, you don't." He put a hand up to keep her at bay. "You'll find out what's in the bag when we get to the bungalow."
Nancy played coy. "You mean you don't want me hugging you or touching you until then?" Her hands were on his forearms and she peered up at him seductively.
"Nice try, Nan," Frank said and stole a quick kiss from her unsuspecting lips. "If I'd known Wal-Mart bags made you so curious and .. so amorous, I would have bought more of them."
Nancy stepped back, crossed her arms, and angled her head. One perfectly arched eyebrow twitched slightly. "It's not the bag. It's what's in it and you know it. You also know how curious I am, about everything, it's one of my failings. But I can wait. Shall we go?"
Frank smiled. So she was going to play it cool while simmering underneath. He liked it.
"I have a cab waiting outside," he said and held out his free arm. Nancy looped an arm through his and they walked out of the Police Station.
"By the way," he said, "being curious is not a failing. It's what makes you an excellent detective."
She cocked her head and smiled up at him. "I love you, Frank. Thank you for the compliment. You're an excellent detective, too."
He nudged her in the shoulder as they descended the steps in front of the Police Station. "But who solved this case? You did."
"You helped."
"A little. You're the one who figured out it was Gary. I still don't know how you did that." Frank opened the door to the cab and Nancy climbed in.
They settled themselves in the back seat and Frank tucked the Wal-Mart bag down by his feet, out of Nancy's reach. She heard the items clank together again. She was positive it was glass.
But why glass? For the moment, she was completely stumped.
Frank gave the driver the resort's address and the cab pulled away from the curb.
Nancy returned to the topic of their conversation once the cab was on the main roadway. "The photo," she said, "I recognized Gary in the newspaper photo."
"I looked at that photo, too," Frank countered, "and couldn't say for sure who that was. What made you so sure it was Gary?"
"A series of fortunate events." Nancy's dark blue eyes sparkled in the dim light of the dashboard. "You remember when we returned to the resort after our dinner at the Mexican restaurant?"
"Yes. We happened upon nearly every guest as we walked to our bungalow."
"And that was the series of fortunate events," Nancy said with a smile.
Frank cast her a dubious look.
Nancy explained, "The newspaper photo showed Daniel Jones and his wife standing outside their home on their porch. There were flowering shrubs around the porch railing. Daniel Jones had an arm around his wife."
"Yes. Yes. Yes," Frank said as Nancy listed the salient points. He still couldn't see how this led to Gary Simpson being the man in the picture.
"Well, there you have it. When we saw Gary he was standing on his bungalow porch. You might recall that his porch is surrounded by flowering shrubs."
Frank grunted an affirmative. "I do remember because you pointed it out. I believe I promised you I would try to get a bungalow with shrubs if we ever came back here."
"You did." Nancy leaned over and kissed Frank on the cheek. "And I appreciate that, but back to Gary. Lana came out of the bungalow and Gary put an arm around her. Something stirred in my mind, at the pretty picture the two of them made, standing there on their porch surrounded by beautiful flowers."
Frank was starting to see it, too. "A picture very much like the one in the newspaper," he said.
"Exactly." Nancy gave him a slow, enchanting smile. "Gary was built the same as the man in the photo. He held Lana the same way as the man in the photo."
"But that wasn't clear and convincing evidence," Frank said.
"No, it wasn't. That's why I needed the guest registers." Nancy watched the lights flash by outside the window and then said, "But the photo did point me toward Gary and away from Tim."
"Well, that's good," Frank said. "So, what's up with Molly?"
"Oh, I have an idea about that."
"Okay, tell me."
The cab pulled into the parking lot of the Palms Resort. The driver put the vehicle in park, threw an arm over the seatback, and turned to his customers. "That'll be twelve bucks."
Nancy opened her door, leaned out, and gazed up at the night sky. Stars glittered like diamonds on black velvet. "It's nice to be back," she sighed. To Frank, she said, "I'll tell you my theory on Molly when we get to our bungalow."
"You can't tell me now?" Frank protested as he dug his wallet out of his pocket.
Nancy eyed the bag on the floor by Frank's feet. "I can keep secrets, too, Frank Hardy." And with that she climbed out of the cab, her handbag on her shoulder, and a soft smile on her face.
She was very curious about that bag and its contents, more curious than she would ever let Frank know.
A/N: Aww, thank you all for the nice reviews. So glad that people are interested in Lana and what happened. There are a few more loose ends to tie up and more fluff to come. And yes, we'll see Jeremy Hill again.