All the Dirty Secrets, page 13
“I’ve done the same, Dad. Thanks.”
* * * *
Edy drove into the driveway, laughing. The place looked like a dump with Cedric’s possessions strewn about. Boy, most of the women on this block, who acted as my friend to my face and who have screwed Cedric at one time or another, must be going crazy. She flipped the switch on the garage and headed inside, then reprogrammed the code for the garage door opener.
Edy sat in the garage for a good ten minutes before she was able to get a grip on her emotions.
“Benita, I’m home,” she called out, stepping into the long hallway off the garage.
She decided to hit the problem head-on and went to Cedric’s office. She rummaged through his desk and papers. I’ve been too complaisant over the years. Not anymore. I’m a strong, kickass woman, and the likes of Cedric can go to hell.
“Mrs. Dunstan, Mr. Dunstan is pounding on the front door,” Benita said from the doorway to Cedric’s office.
“If he persists, call the police and have him removed from the property. It’s my house, not his.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Edy closed the top drawer of Cedric’s desk. She swung the chair back and started out of the room with the intention of going upstairs. She changed her mind and walked to the front door. She pressed the intercom button on the surveillance system and watched him rant. It amazed her, the crimson color Cedric’s face and neck had turned. It’d be nice if he blew a gasket and saved her from a ghastly divorce.
“Cedric, you’re making an ass of yourself. Gather up your possessions and go to your little love nest you share with Rosie. Oh yes, I know about that too.” His head jerked up to look directly into the camera. “It’s over. Accept your responsibility in the demise of this farce we call a marriage.”
“You cold, unfeeling bitch, you drove me away.”
“Think what you want. It’s over.”
“It’s not, and you’ll find out soon enough.”
“Goodbye, Cedric. If you’re not off my property in fifteen minutes, Benita will call the police.”
“You stuck up, conceited bitch. You’ll regret the day you tangled with me.”
“I have for years.” She leaned her back against the door and fought the tears threatening to fall.
No, I’m stronger than this. She decided to follow it through. Edy locked her gaze on the screen, silently cursing him as Cedric tried his key in the front door again.
“The locks on all my houses were changed this morning, Cedric.”
“Our houses,” he screamed into the camera.
“No, mine. It was my money that bought all of them, and my money that maintained them. All of them, including this one, are in my name only. Your name doesn’t appear on any of my assets or the deeds. You’ve wasted five minutes. Now you only have ten left before Benita calls the police. Oh, and Cedric, anything you leave here will be disposed of.”
“I’m not through with you, you just wait.”
It might’ve destroyed her to see him leave, but when he bent over to pick up his belongings, it lifted the big boulder off her heart. Point one for her, though she didn’t feel like a winner.
“Mrs. Dunstan?” Benita hovered behind her.
Edy turned. Benita’s arms were open, ready to comfort her as she had done over the years. It would be nice to rest my head against the cushy pillow of Benita’s breast, and inhale her vanilla cologne mingled with house cleaners, but it’s about time I grew up, Edy thought, and walked over to the staircase. “Yes?”
“Are you going to be okay?” Benita asked, dropping her arms.
“Yes, I have no choice. I’m going upstairs to rest for a while. Can you bring dinner up to me tonight?”
“Certainly. What time would you like to eat?”
She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “Seven,” she said, tears in her voice, the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders.
Chapter 13
Everywhere he went he heard rumors about Callie’s virtue, her husband’s affairs, and who each person thought had killed her. They were all wrong, Jake thought, sitting at the counter in the diner and wolfing down his BLT. In small cities, people fed on gossip. If they gossiped about someone else, it kept them out of the spotlight.
Gwenn Langley hounded him for sound bites when he landed a meaty case, but for Callie’s case she’d kept her needling to a minimum. He dialed her cell before he went to Captain William McGregor’s office to interview him.
“It’s about time, Jake. What’s going on with the Blake case?” Gwenn answered in her sultry voice.
“It’s ongoing,” he said, bringing a picture of Gwenn into focus in his mind, matching the voice to the woman.
He’d bet this week’s salary the five-foot-nine-inch blonde had her pencil perched and ready to scribble down any news he gave her. Gwenn’s eyes were a lighter shade of blue than Mia’s but as sharp, and nothing got past her. Every time he spoke to her he kept that in mind.
“Funny. Is there anything new I can report?”
“I wish. We have a few leads, Gwenn, but nothing solid at this time.”
“Would you tell me if you did?”
“I would if it helped my case. Have you learned anything?”
“No, the woman lived a saintly life. As does her husband. Somewhere, somehow, she met her killer and set him off. But where did she meet him?” Gwenn said.
“Welcome to my life. It’s frustrating, isn’t it?”
“Extremely—you seriously haven’t found anything to nail this killer, Jake?” Gwenn’s voice trailed off.
Gwenn cared for her story and career, but even more she cared about the victims. It made her an ace reporter. He thought back over the last case, which had lots of evidence, lots of bodies, and clues he’d eventually been able to hone to catch the murdering bastard. This time, outside of the picture left with the body, he had nothing.
“We’re working on it.”
“Can you give me a statement I can use on the six o’clock broadcast?”
“It’s ongoing, and the team working the case is confident the killer will soon be behind bars.”
“Thanks for nothing.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a smile. He hung up and strolled back to the station for his scheduled meeting.
Jake had dug into Captain William McGregor’s background before the meeting. The captain ran illegals and a little shine had been knocked off him ten years ago, when his and Todd Blake’s cases collided. Blake had tried to work with McGregor, who worked for glory and to further his career. His lack of cooperation with Blake cost them both their cases. A demerit was issued for McGregor’s file. Ever since the incident, he’d blamed Todd for his failure to go any further in the department. The irony of it: Todd was now his boss. It must stick in McGregor’s gut.
Jake sat across from the man whose desk was large, dark, and clear of paper. McGregor’s girth filled his chair, and he wore his salt-and-pepper hair cropped close to his scalp. His brown eyes locked on Jake’s as he waited him out.
“Thank you for seeing me, Captain,” Jake said, his notebook ready in his hand.
“I’ve heard good things about you, Jake. Who pointed you in my direction?”
“It’s a natural progression to interview anyone who has had a problem with a victim or their spouse. I’ve heard rumors over the years and thought I’d put them to bed.”
McGregor folded his hands, resting them on his desk. “It was a petty argument the brass and a few officers blew out of proportion. Todd and I have made our peace over the years.” McGregor squinted as he continued to size Jake up. “You’re here to interview me based on an incident from ten years ago. And one you believe I’d kill Todd’s wife over? Why? It had nothing to do with Callie.”
“It’s a string I have to pull.”
“Which tells me you have nothing,” McGregor said.
“You’re correct.”
“I will tell you I liked and respected Callie. She was a fine woman. One Todd didn’t deserve. That said, he’d say the same about my wife. Is there anything else, Lieutenant?”
“No, sir, thank you for your time.” Jake stood, as did McGregor. They shook hands, and he left. It had been another dead end. Nothing had been accomplished in the interview except to note McGregor still held a grudge against Blake, though Jake couldn’t see him using Callie to get back at Todd. But he’d been wrong before.
* * * *
Melinda parked her car in her driveway after running her errands. She’d garage it later. She reached into the trunk for the groceries and started lifting them out as someone came up behind her.
“Jumping Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” Melinda dropped the bags and spilled the contents all over the trunk. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she said to Sal.
“I didn’t. Christ, you’re jumpy,” Sal said. “When I realized you weren’t home, I decided to hide out back in case the cops showed up. It’s not good to be seen together.”
“Then why are you here?” She squinted, trying to figure out his angle.
“I miss you. We need a plan in case this blows up in our faces. Whoever killed that poor woman understood what they were doing by pointing the cops in your direction. Have you been able to find someone with a grudge and computer knowledge to steal your photos?”
“No. And the last thing I planned on was Jake Carrington. Come inside before someone sees you.”
Sal stuffed the spilled items back in the bags and carried them into the house. Melinda followed him but not before she glanced up and down the street, satisfied no one saw them.
“If the cops visited you last night, are you sure they don’t have someone following you?”
“I made sure. After I checked out, I took a few detours to throw anyone off. I’m positive I wasn’t followed.”
If Sal’s right, it would mean he’s not a suspect. How about me? Am I? I think he’s looking to throw me under the bus.
“Tell me exactly what you did this morning,” Melinda said as she stored her groceries in the cabinets.
“I checked out at eleven. Acted casual and drove to Southington. I sat in the commuter lot for twenty minutes. No one got off the exit when I did or pulled into the lot. I hopped back on the highway going west toward Wilkesbury and drove here. I’m parked around the corner one street over. Listen, dodging cops isn’t a big deal for me. It’s child’s play. My problem is I need money. If I get my hands on the bastard who took our money I’ll….”
“It’s a moot point. What we need to do is move on to the next one. I’m cash strapped and I’ve got my mortgage payment coming up.” She almost laughed out loud. The blackmail money gave her a good cushion, but she needed more to get the hell out of this hick town. What Sal didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She bit down on her bottom lip to hide the smile.
“Are you sure hitting the next one this soon is smart?” Sal asked.
“We both need money. Do you think we have a choice? This time let’s make them go out of town to drop the money off. It will put us out of Carrington’s jurisdiction.”
“I don’t know…”
“Are you going to wimp out on me now? I thought you said you had no cash. Where are you going to go if you don’t have any money?”
Sal paced the floor. Melinda let him work it out for himself. She’d give him no money. As it was she didn’t have enough for herself. If he didn’t come to her conclusion, well she’d have to…better not go there. She leaned against the kitchen cabinet.
He stepped in front of her, pinned her to the counter and wrapped his hands around her neck, a bit too tightly. “I’ll do it for the money. If you cross me, Melinda, it’ll be the end of you, do you understand?”
Hot lava burned her lungs, her eyes watered, as Sal squeezed his hands tighter around her neck. She wasn’t in the mood for his sex games. But had Sal started to figure out who took the money? If he had, she’d need to throw him off the scent.
Melinda leaned into Sal, kissed him while she tried to figure a way out of sharing the blackmail money with him. He relaxed his grip around her throat as she danced their way out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.
* * * *
On a whim, on his way home Jake called Sal’s poker buddy Lorenzo Rigano again.
He started right in when Rigano answered. “Mr. Rigano, Lieutenant Carrington from the WPD. I forgot to ask you the last time we spoke, what does Sal Gallucci do for a living?”
A chuckle, followed by silence. Jake waited him out for a few seconds.
“Mr. Rigano?”
“Anything and everything that will line his pockets—let’s say he’s a freelancer.”
Interesting, Jake thought. “Thanks, I hope not to bother you again.”
“You’re not going to give me a little tidbit I can use at the poker table this week to unnerve him?”
“It’s an ongoing case. Sorry.”
Jake hung up as he drove into his driveway. Another day into the case and we’re no closer to solving it than when I arrived on scene Sunday. He sat in his car for a couple of minutes to regroup. Tired, he scrubbed his hands over his face to revive himself before he faced Mia and her question from last night about them selling their current homes and getting a place new to the both of them. Why not, since they were practically doing it now? But he couldn’t sell the house. It would cut the last tie to Eva and his family if he did. Throughout the years he’d redecorated. Eva’s room had been converted into a spare bedroom done in yellow and blue, the pink fluffy bedspread and curtains gone. His parents’ room, now his, he’d redone in blues instead of burgundy. The house for him still held his family’s essence. Fanciful, he understood, but it wasn’t only his mother who couldn’t let go…He had to make Mia understand his logic.
Ha! This week he’d bring Mia with him to the nursing home to meet his mother. A deterrent, maybe. He’d have to see how Mia handled facing Maddie, who lived in the past. She seemed to forget his mother used to have two children, not one.
Brigh jumped up on his leg as he walked in the door—her big brown eyes pleading for attention.
“How’s my girl?” he said, bending down and rubbing her black, white, and brown spotted coat and head. “Did you miss me?” He kissed the top of Brigh’s head.
Brigh licked his hand. “Go sit.” Jake pointed to her bed in the corner of the foyer. He found Mia at the stove. Sorry, stomach, we’ll have to eat whatever it is. His stomach growled at the memory of the burnt pork chops she’d made last week that were tougher than leather.
“Hi, babe.” He leaned in and kissed her on the back of the neck.
“Hi, we’re having pasta for dinner.”
Excellent, it’s hard to mess up pasta. “Smells delicious,” he lied. The bubbling sauce smelled too spicy. He put his briefcase on the table.
“Oh, Jake, take it off the table.” Mia pointed at his case.
He placed it on the floor and took the dishes from the cabinet to set the table. When the rolls were ready, they ate. He forked up the first peppery bite and prayed his stomach didn’t rebel.
When they’d finished dinner, Jake cleaned up the kitchen before going to his office to dig into Sal Gallucci’s work record. He’d been waffling back and forth on who the killer could be: Gallucci, the only suspect who made any sense to him—or Gallucci and Melinda. Blinders blocked him from getting inside the killer’s head on this one. Out of Mia’s ever-watchful eyes, he popped a pain pill to kill the constant agony in his gut. The spicy dinner hadn’t helped any. Occupied with the case all day, he’d been able to stifle the jabbing sensation. With Brigh at his feet, he started his search as she stared up at him with her big chocolate eyes.
“Who are you to judge?” he asked the dog, and typed one-handed. “All right, I’ll call the doctor tomorrow.” He patted Brigh on the head while reading his screen. Something caught his eye and he backed up the cursor.
* * * *
“We do have chemistry, Melinda,” Sal said, rolling over to grab a cigarette from the nightstand.
“We do. Let’s plan the time and place to put the finger on the next victim. With how the newspaper is portraying Blake as a loose woman we can use that against the next victim. Fear is a great motivator. We need to time it down to the last minute. Nothing can go wrong this time,” Melinda said.
“I still think the motel manager took the money.”
“Why?”
“It’s a feeling. Who else but him? He let me in the room,” Sal said.
Melinda liked where Sal’s mind ventured, as long as he strayed from her direction. She rolled from the bed, picked up her robe, slipped into it and tied the sash.
“I’m hungry, how about you?” Melinda asked.
“I could eat. Why don’t you bring it in here along with the bottle of vodka and we’ll make a night of it.”
Melinda made baloney sandwiches with mustard. She had to drag a chair to the cabinet to get the vodka. She put the food and booze on a tray and started toward her bedroom. The carpet silenced her footsteps. In the doorway she almost upended the tray. Sal was rifling through her closet. Son of a bitch, he’ll find the money if he hasn’t yet. Backing into the hallway, she retraced her steps to the kitchen, where she’d left her purse with the gun inside.
There’s no way in hell I’m sharing the money with him. I did all the work.
With the gun cocked, she stuck it in her robe pocket, then lifted the tray to go back into the bedroom.
Sal charged into the kitchen with the bag of money in his hands.
“I’m starved,” she said, setting the tray on the counter.
Melinda slipped her hand in her pocket, placed her finger on the trigger and waited.
“What the hell is this?” Sal asked, shaking the bag of money.
