“The police were very nice, very diligent, but they don’t come by anymore.”
A cold case robbery/homicide after nearly ten months wasn’t going to keep the police on their toes, Megan knew. There were plenty of crimes to solve.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m following up on a lead-”
“All the way from California?”
“Yes.” Before the witness could interrupt again, Megan spoke quickly. “My colleague in Orlando reviewed your statement and you mentioned that you saw Ken Russo come home alone the night he was murdered. Did he normally bring someone home with him? A girlfriend?”
“Kenny was a handsome retired military officer. Always helped me take my garbage out, fixed my fence when it fell down in that awful storm three years ago. Of course there were always women who wanted to go out with him. He was a confirmed bachelor, though. Enjoyed the ladies, of course, but he liked to ‘play the field,’ as you kids say now.”
Megan wasn’t sure she’d use that phrase. She asked, “Did he have a regular girlfriend? Or do you remember who he was seeing when he was killed?”
“You aren’t suggesting that one of his girlfriends had something to do with his murder! It was a burglary. They took his computer, his camera, his money-”
“You knew he had money in the house?”
“That’s what the police said. They asked me about it, so I assumed he had some money.”
“And his girlfriends?”
“Well, all the ladies here wanted to date him, but he was too young.”
“Excuse me,” Megan asked, “what type of community do you live in?”
“It’s a private, gated community. Active Fifty. No minors. Joe and Liz have a college-aged daughter living with them, but-”
The community was gated? Why hadn’t Zarian mentioned that fact?
“Were there any other burglaries in your community around the time Mr. Russo was robbed and killed?”
“Goodness no. This is one of the safest areas of Orlando. Well, there was Sergio Roper. He’s senile. He used to go into houses at random and make himself lunch. Walked in one afternoon while I was napping. I woke up and found him eating a ham and cheese sandwich in my kitchen-”
“Mrs. Lyons, you’re saying that Mr. Russo’s was the only major robbery in the community?”
“Yes, dear.”
“And his girlfriend?”
“Poor thing, his girlfriend broke up with him right before. They had a rather public argument, and she left crying.”
“When was that?”
“Oh, gosh, I’m not sure. A week or two before Kenny was murdered. I called her to tell her, and she was heartbroken. I thought there was something special between them. But she couldn’t come to the funeral. She had taken a job out of state. That’s what the fight was about, apparently. She wanted him to move with her, and Kenny, he was happy with us old folks. He was only fifty-three, but he was an old soul.”
“Do you have her name? Contact information?”
“In my address book. Just a minute.”
Several minutes later, Mrs. Lyons came on the phone. “Hannah.”
“Hannah what?”
“I don’t have her last name, but here’s the number.”
After Mrs. Lyons recited the digits, Megan said, “That’s a New York exchange.”
“She’s from New York, and she went back. It was her cell phone-I hear you can keep the same number no matter where you move. Isn’t that amazing?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “Hannah had moved here to be with her parents, who were getting on in years and needed some help. Isn’t that just the sweetest thing? I know so many people who have children too busy to even visit, let alone help with grocery shopping and transportation. I can’t drive anymore because of my eyes.”
“I’m sorry,” Megan said as she finished writing down information. “Your eyes?”
“I’m blind. Well, not blind as a bat, but I can’t see more than two feet in front of me even with my glasses. So you can understand why I would love to have some help, but I never was able to have children. Though some of my friends have several children and none of their kids help out-”
“Mrs. Lyons, I really appreciate your time and information. I may call you again, if that’s okay.”
“Yes, of course, anytime. Please.”
“One more thing, how long was Mr. Russo involved with Hannah?”
“Several months. They met at a community mixer.”
“How old is she, would you say?”
“Young. Forty, forty-five.”
“I thought you had to be fifty to live there?”
“Yes, but she was taking care of her parents-didn’t I say that? I’m sure I did.”
“Are her parents still there?”
“Oh no, when Hannah left for her new job, they went to a nursing home. They were in their eighties, I think Bernard was close to ninety. He had a pretty good head, but didn’t say much of anything. Millie had advanced Alzheimer’s. Couldn’t remember anything, bless her heart. I don’t blame Hannah for moving on. Bernard never made much money working for the county, though they had a nice retirement. I think Hannah was struggling to make sure their bills were paid. Before Millie was diagnosed, she’d bought thousands of dollars of stuff she didn’t need off that shopping channel. Finally, Bernard cut up the credit cards. At least, that’s what I heard.“
“Do you have the name of the home?” “Sunny Day Adult Living. It’s one of the nicer places in Orlando. If any of those places are nice.” “And their last name?” “Rubin. Bernard and Millie Rubin.” “Was that their daughter’s last name as well?” “I suppose so. I honestly don’t know.” “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Lyons.” “We’re here,” Officer Dodge said after Megan hung up. “Ready?”
“One minute. Let me make a quick call.” Megan dialed the number Mrs. Lyons gave her for Hannah, Ken Russo’s ex-girlfriend. Her head was abuzz with questions, namely did Hannah know if Russo had been threatened or seemed distracted prior to their breakup. Megan was shocked when Mrs. Lyons told her the community was a private, gated development. Only one major theft, with a murder attached, and the police weren’t suspicious of a more personal motive?
An automated voice mail system picked up and Megan debated leaving a message. When the beep sounded, she said, “Hello, my name is Megan Elliott and I’m with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I spoke with someone who said you used to date a Mr. Kenneth Russo in Orlando, Florida, who was murdered in a robbery last year. I’m following up on the case and have a couple questions, and would appreciate a call back.”
Next she called information for the Sunny Day Adult Living Center in Orlando and asked for the administrator. Unfortunately, being five in the afternoon on the East Coast, he had already left. “This is an FBI investigation that may relate to one of your residents,” Megan told the manager who answered the phone. “If you would please give me the administrator’s home or cell phone number, I would appreciate it.”
“I’m sorry, that’s against protocol, but I’ll be happy to contact him if you can tell me what this is regarding.”
“The daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bernard Rubin may have information that will help in a criminal investigation, and I’m looking for a current phone number and address.”
“I’ll have Dr. Boswell get back to you, Ms. Elliott.”
Megan gave her contact information and hung up, frustrated. Two potential leads-two good solid leads- on hold while she waited.
“Let’s go,” she said to Officer Dodge.
The two women exited the patrol car and walked up the short stone path to the quaint Victorian house in downtown SLO. Megan hoped Hans hadn’t sent her on a wild-goose chase.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The bartender at the hotel bar had been less than helpful, Jack thought. While they had a vague description of the woman, the bartender sat with a police artist for an hour and nothing came of it. If they needed a description of her breasts, no problem. The artist told a frustrated Hans that sometimes it took a few hours, but she wasn’t confident that the bartender would remember enough detail to render an accurate picture.