Chapter 56
We stepped into the foyer, onto the dark hardwoods. There was no sign of forced entry at the front door. No broken panes of glass in the immediate area.
The staircase to the right led up to the second floor.
There was a bench and some chairs in the hallway that led to the living room—a place for clients to sit.
Trent had turned the parlor into his office.
What was once a small sitting room across the hall had been converted into a reception area with a desk and chairs.
Trent's office was crowded as responders swarmed. Sheriff Daniels looked on with a grim face.
A slightly frumpy woman with short auburn hair sobbed into a tissue as she stood in the foyer.
Forensic investigators dusted door handles and common surfaces for prints. With as many people who came in and out of this place, the killer might be hard to pin down.
JD and I stepped into the small office as Brenda hovered over the remains.
Trent sat at his desk, leaning back against his office chair. Crimson stained his white dress shirt. He'd been stabbed in the neck. The puncture looked like it severed the left carotid. The killer was right-handed. There were cast-off patterns on the ceiling, the walls, the floor, and the desk.
Trent’s blank, lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling. His sports coat lay open, exposing a sea of red that had trickled down from his neck. The blood must have spurted out like a fountain. His silver tie was speckled with blood.
"What do we know?" I asked the sheriff.
"His secretary came in this morning and found him like that," Daniels said, nodding to the auburn-haired lady. "Her name is Leanne.”
"Time of death?"
"Between 7:00 and 9:00 PM last night," Brenda said. “Give or take.”
I hadn't noticed a video doorbell, but maybe the neighbors had one that captured footage of the assailant coming or going.
"Any signs of forced entry anywhere in the house?" I asked.
"Erickson did a walk around," Daniels said. "Nothing appears to be disturbed. I’ve got deputies canvassing the area."
“Murder weapon?” I asked.
“Looks like some kind of long, narrow blade,” Brenda said. “But I’ll know more when I get him back to the lab.” Then she added, “Looks like the killer stabbed him, then set the murder weapon on the desk.”
She pointed to an area of blood drips and smears.
I stepped back into the foyer, flashed my badge to Leanne, and made introductions. "I'm sorry for your loss."
She gave an appreciative nod.
"Tell me what happened."
She shook her head, frazzled. "I don't know. I came in this morning as usual around 8:45 AM. I saw him like that and freaked out. I left the house immediately and got in my car and locked the doors. I called the sheriff's department and waited for you guys to arrive.”
"Was the door locked when you arrived?"
"I think so.”
"Are there any video cameras anywhere on the property?”
"Not that I know of."
"Does anyone else have keys to the house? Girlfriend, wife?"
Leanne shook her head. "I don't think so. Trent was single at the moment. He had a lot of lady friends, but I don't think he had given any of them a key.”
"I'll need a list of names.”
She gave me a flat look. "I don't know their names. I don't think Trent did either,” she said dryly with a hint of disapproval. “They didn't stay around for long, if you know what I mean.”
"One-night stands? Prostitutes?"
She looked a little shocked by the latter. "I don't think Trent had to pay for it. Let's just say he had plenty of opportunities. As you can see, he was a handsome man.”
Trent was early 30s with a strong jaw, ice-blue eyes, and untamed dark hair. He had the kind of bad boy look that drove the ladies wild. He wasn't a billionaire by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm sure he earned a nice living.
"Did Trent always work late and on weekends?"
"Trent was the kind of guy who liked to work hard and play hard. He would work when he needed to. Sometimes he’d take off in the middle of the day and go play golf. Sometimes he’d work all weekend. It's a small firm. You do what you have to do."
"How was your relationship with the deceased?”
She hesitated a moment as she thought about it. "It was great. I like my job. He was kind, never raised his voice, and he never once harassed me. Though I'm not sure I would have minded if he did," she said with a slightly sassy eyebrow.
"Did he have any enemies? Disgruntled clients?”
"He handled a lot of divorce cases. What do you think? Let's just say you don't make a lot of friends on the opposing team.”
"Can you think of anyone in particular who may have wanted to harm Mr. Keating?”
"There was a guy in here a few months ago who threatened Mr. Keating," Leanne said.
"Trent was handling the woman's divorce.
She took that man to the cleaners. He came in here and made his displeasure known.
I thought they were going to come to blows.
" Then she muttered aside. "Truth be told, I think Trent may have crossed some ethical boundaries with that one," she said with a raised eyebrow.
“He was sleeping with his client?”
She shrugged, but she knew. “Who can say for sure?”
"You remember the guy’s name?”
Leanne’s mouth tightened and her brow knitted as she thought. "Harrison. I think his name was Ben. I can look it up in the files.”
"I’d appreciate that," I said.
"Is it okay if I get on my computer now?" she asked, motioning to her desk. "I don't want to interfere with the investigation."
"Why don’t you hold off until forensics finishes up?”
She nodded.
It finally clicked where I’d seen the name before. I asked Leanne, "Did Mr. Keating represent Tiffany Madison?”
"I can't discuss clients, you understand."
"So she was a client?”
Leanne nodded.
I shared a look with JD.
We excused ourselves and stepped back into Trent's office. I moved around the desk to the body and searched his pockets. I pulled out his phone, then held the screen in front of his face. The trick worked about half the time.
The security screen unlocked.
With access to the phone, I sifted through the recent calls and texts. I took screenshots of the list, then sent it to my phone, then from my phone to Isabella. There were a number of calls to the same phone over the last several weeks.
I had a theory brewing in my mind.
Brenda and her crew bagged the body and transferred the remains to a gurney. The news crews got their money shot as Brenda wheeled the body outside.
A forensic investigator found a strand of dark hair not far from the desk. I was cautiously optimistic. But in a high-traffic office like this, it could have belonged to anyone.
We wrapped up at the scene, and Paris confronted us again as we stepped outside.
I still didn't have much to say.
I talked to Erickson on the sidewalk, away from the cameras.
“I’ve spoken to all the neighbors,” he said. “No doorbell footage. The neighbor across the street thinks she saw someone at the house around the time of the murder, but she couldn’t give me a description. She didn’t have her glasses. Her name is Joyce Miller, if you want to talk to her.”
We walked across the street to talk to Joyce. She was 77 years old with stark white hair, fair skin, and thick black-framed glasses. She had a pear-shaped figure and wore a royal blue shirt.
I flashed my badge and made introductions as she stood on the sidewalk by the mailbox, watching the chaos.
“Can you tell me what you saw?” I asked.
“I didn’t see much. Didn’t have my glasses. I stepped out to get the mail, and I saw someone on a bicycle go up the driveway.”
“Can you describe the figure?”
“Fuzzy.” She frowned. “I wish I could be more help.”
“Did you see the figure leave?”
“No. I went back inside and didn’t think much about it until the patrol cars showed up this morning.”
“Can you tell me if it was a man or a woman?”
She shook her head. “Just a big fuzzy blob.”
I gave her a card and told her to get in touch if she remembered anything else.
We walked back across the street, hopped into the Porsche, and headed back to the Avventura. I wanted to take another look at the prenuptial and the will Trent had drafted for the Madisons.