Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 05 - Till Death Do Us Part (27 page)

“Buy a new car,” I said, then added, “again.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve heard that before.”

I walked Justin out, closing the door behind him. Then I took another muscle relaxer and pain pill and climbed into bed with Tom. He never stirred. I’d like to say I fell asleep, but it was more like I slipped into unconsciousness.

Several hours later, I woke up with Tom still lying next to me. He normally never took naps.

I turned and poked him in the shoulder.

“Don’t touch me,” Tom groaned.

“What?”

“My body feels like it was run over by a truck, no, make that a convoy of trucks.”

“Finally!” I said.

He opened his eyes and said, “What?”

“After the accident, last night
and
this morning, I felt like a wreck and you were running around doing your cop thing, and then working. I couldn’t figure out how you were still standing.”

“Practice and adrenaline,” he said, closing his eyes again.

“Do you want some of my pain meds?”

He shook his head, then grimaced.

“How about half of each?”

Tom nodded slowly and I got the medicine containers, cut each of the pills in half and brought them to him, along with a glass of water. He took them and then closed his eyes.

“I’ll fix some lunch,” I told him.

“Don’t burn down the kitchen,” he said without even opening his eyes, then said, “I don’t have the energy to get out of the house if it is on fire.”

“Okay,” I told him and walked to the kitchen. Maury left his ham and cheese frittata recipe in the kitchen drawer. Sure, I never really cooked anything that didn’t come out of a pre-made package, but even I could mix eggs and ham together. If it was good breakfast food – it would be good for lunch, too. The recipe was easy and soon the kitchen was filled with a wonderful aroma.

I looked up and saw Tom coming down the hallway. “Something smells great. Did you get take-out?”

“No, I cooked it myself.” I frowned at him.

“It smells wonderful and I’m starving.”

“That’s usually my line,” I told him, dishing up a plate with the frittata.

Tom chuckled and then slowly lowered himself so he could sit at the table. I knew from my own experiences this morning that getting up would be even more painful.

The door opened and Kenny, Ryder, and George came into the house.

“I smelled food,” Kenny said.

“I cooked it,” I told him.

Kenny stopped and put his arms out stopping the other man. “Let’s go to Denny’s.”

“What?”

“You don’t cook, Stretch. You open boxes.”

“I cooked it.”

“And it’s great. So if you’re not eating I’m going to finish the rest of it,” Tom said, holding up his plate for more.

“No, I’m eating,” Kenny sat down at the table and I dished up helpings for all of the men.

“This is wonderful, Stretch. It’s as good as Maury’s frittata,” Kenny said as he put another bite in his mouth.

After lunch, Ryder and George went back to Kenny’s house. Kenny stayed.

“What are we doing today, Stretch?” Kenny settled himself on the couch.

“After yesterday’s excursion, I think we all should just stay home,” Tom said, pushing on the table to help himself stand, grimacing.

“Well, he’s finally sore?”

I nodded.

“I guess even
Supercops feel pain eventually.”

Tom scowled at Kenny and sat down in my recliner, pulled up the handle, and settled in. “I think there’s a baseball game on and I’m going to sit here and watch it, maybe take another nap, and not move.” Before Kenny or I could make any suggestions for the day, Tom continued, “And nobody else is moving, either.”

Kenny and I looked at each other and shrugged.

“He did save our life yesterday, I guess we can listen to him for once,” Kenny suggested.

“Okay, what do you want to do around this house today?”

“Game day?” Kenny suggested.

“Okay, I’ll get the games.”

Kenny and I spent the day playing games while Tom dozed and watched a baseball game. Kenny mostly cheated and I mostly let him. His worst game was Battleship. He kept moving his ships around.

“Your battleship can’t be there, Kenny. I already called several of those numbers and you said it was a miss.”

“Okay, I’ll move it someplace else,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to move it after you put it down in the beginning of the game,” I told him.

“That doesn’t seem right. You should be able to keep moving it. A real ship would move all of the time.”

I laughed and sank all his ships, eventually.

Kenny’s best game was Clue, he always knew who the killer was, what weapon was used, and where the murder took place long before I ever did. We played four times and each time he won.

“I don’t want to play this game again. You always win.”

“You always win the other games. This is the only one I do win.”

I frowned at him and said, “And you don’t even cheat on this game.”

“I don’t cheat,” he put his hand on his chest.

I glared at him.

“Okay, maybe a little, but I never cheat on Clue,” he said.

“That’s because you win without cheating,” I told him.

“I have the mind of a detective,” Kenny said.

“More like the mind of a killer,” I told him.

He laughed and I joined him.

“Let’s bother Tom for a while,” he suggested.

“Okay,” We went into the living room and watched the game with Tom. He was mostly dozing and not watching the game.

Kenny started asking questions about the game, each ball thrown, the players, and every call the umpire made.

A few minutes later, Tom eased himself out of the chair and said, “I’m going to lie down for a while.”

“Okay,” I told him.

Tom turned and frowned at us both, “You two stay here, no leaving the house while I’m resting.”

“We wouldn’t do that,” I told him.

Tom actually laughed. “Promise me, you’ll stay in the house.”

I held up my hand. “I promise.”

Kenny held up his hand and said, “I promise, too.”

As soon as Tom left, Kenny said, “Where do you want to go?’

“I promised him,” I said.

“My fingers were crossed,” Kenny said.

“Mine too, but we’re still not going anywhere. What do you want to watch?”

“Not your choice in movies. How about we find something both of us want to watch?”

“That ain’t going to happen. You like those stupid comedies where people pee in the street. I find them ridiculous.”

“You like the movies where people get killed in every scene, cars get blown up, and worlds come to an end. I find them horrific.”

“Then we have to go with our compromise,” I told him, then opened the cabinet under my television and brought out two sets of DVDs.

“I can’t believe you bought the DVDs of the shows we used to watch.”

“They were funny then and they are still funny,” I told him.

“
Golden Girls
or
Are you Being Served
?”

“Let’s start with the
Golden Girls
. I just love Sophia.”

“Picture this …,” Kenny held up his hands and spread them apart, as if he was starting a story.

I laughed and then he joined me.

We sat on the couch together, watched
Golden Girls
and laughed until we cried.

After the third episode, Kenny said, “Do you see a resemblance between the girls and us?”

“Just because we like to sit with a dessert in between us and eat it and talk about everything …,”

“That’s us,” Kenny agreed.

“I want to be Sophia and you definitely are Blanche.”

Kenny laughed and said, “I can live with that. As long as neither of us is Rose. I love Betty White but Rose was dumb.”

We watched several more episodes until my stomach growled.

“What should we get?” Kenny asked.

“Something different, something we haven’t eaten in a while,” I told him.

“That doesn’t leave much. We’ve ordered pizza, Mexican, Italian, Chinese, and deli food in the last week or so. How about barbecue?”

“Chili’s is the best place. I love their ribs and cinnamon sliced apples but they don’t deliver.”

“You order it and I’ll go and get it,” Kenny said.

“Okay.” I ordered five slabs of ribs with French fries and sliced apples. I knew I could almost eat a whole one myself, so five should be plenty for us and the FBI guys.

Kenny left a few minutes later to get the ribs. I checked on Tom, still sound asleep. I sat down on the couch, opened up my Dropbox and started flipping through information on the victims. I concentrated on the ones that made my stomach twist up. What was their secret? I looked at one victim, a doctor who was the gunshot suicide. What would be so bad that a person would kill himself rather than have people find out? Malpractice? No, there is insurance for that. Sexual assault? Sexual assault of a minor? That would do it. I dialed Justin’s number.

“Yeah, Teach.”

“I’m looking at Allen Miller. He’s the cardiologist in Texas.”

“He’s one of the ones that makes your stomach knot up, right?”

“Yes. I was trying to think of what secret he could have that would make him commit suicide if someone told him to do it and I was thinking about sexual assault of a minor.”

“If he was guilty of that and it got out, he’d lose his license and a lot more than that, besides going to jail.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. Maybe a blackmail angle? Can you target him and really dig?”

“I’ll get on it right away,” Justin said, as Tom walked into the room.

How did Justin show me how to change screens? I didn’t want Tom to know that we were still working on the case. What would I do now?

Chapter 29

Four fingers, right? I slid my fingers on the screen, and it popped the bottom section on. I changed screens the way Justin showed me and said, “Tell your mom she should go on Pinterest. There are some great” - I looked down and saw a popsicle, so I continued - “popsicle recipes for kids.”

“The chief must have just come into the room,” Justin said.

“You are so smart,” I told him.

“I’ll dig, put the information in your Dropbox and send you a text later.”

“Okay,” I hung up the phone and turned to Tom. “I ordered ribs for dinner and Kenny is going to get it. I also got French fries and sliced apples to go with it.”

“You love those apples,” Tom smiled and came over and sat down next to me.

“Oh yes, they are so yummy,” I cuddled in close to him and leaned my head on his shoulder.

“What were you doing when I came in?”

“Talking to Justin,” I said.

“What were you and Justin talking about?”

“We …,” I began.

He put his finger on my mouth and said, “I know that we made a pact about no secrets between us and I know that you’d never deliberately lie to me. But before you answer that question, let me say a few things. First off, I love studying you when you don’t know I am watching you. When you’re in a room, I often stop and watch you before I come into the room. Your animated facial expressions when you’re engrossed in a conversation and the way you twist your long red hair in your fingers makes me want to drag you back to bed.”

I reached for him and he shook his head. I put my hand back in my lap.

Tom continued, “And I know you very well and I know Justin very well.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. How much of Justin and my conversation did he hear?

Tom smiled, pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear and continued, “And I know that Justin’s mom wouldn’t know how to work her computer to find a recipe on anything called
Pinterest. She and I have discussed how she can’t even turn her computer on and that she doesn’t have to learn because she has Justin to do all the computer stuff she needs. Now all that said, I’m going to ask my question again. What were you talking to Justin about?”

I handed him my iPad. “Dropbox file, Trinkets to Buy, Knick-knacks.”

Tom pushed the buttons and the doctor’s information came up. He didn’t yell at me or ask me how I still had the information. He did know Justin well enough to know he would still have the information we compiled even though the FBI tech said it was wiped from my machine and Justin’s. Instead, he said, “Why are you concentrating on this guy?”

“He’s a doctor and he committed suicide.”

“And?” Tom said.

“He makes my skin crawl. Justin and I figure these people all had a secret and those secrets are what got them killed.”

“You never mentioned this secret angle to the FBI agent who took all the stuff.”

“They can do their own work,” I huffed.

“You’re thinking sexual assault? Possibly on a minor?”

I nodded. “If he was guilty of that and somebody was blackmailing him, then maybe that’s why he took his own life.”

“What was left at his crime scene?”

I flipped down the screen to that part of the report, and said, “A bicycle key.”

“If your scenario is right, then all thirty people had secrets. Do you think it’s the same secret? They all were guilty of sexual assault on a minor?”

“Maybe, but I don’t know. It may be something different with each victim.  But I definitely think the secret is what got them killed.”

“Were they all being blackmailed?”

“Justin will dig and find out,” I told Tom, just as Kenny came through the front door, with Ryder and George right behind him.

We ate dinner and didn’t talk about the victim’s the rest of the night. Kenny went home after dinner, saying he needed to take a few more pills and get to bed. He was spending tomorrow with a friend and needed his strength.

“Let her do all the work for a change,” I told him as he went out the door.

Tom looked at me and said, “Are you talking about him having sex with someone?”

“Of course,” I said, putting the leftover ribs in a Ziploc bag for later.

“You two have the strangest relationship.”

I shrugged and said. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to take some little pills and go to bed, too.”

“I’ll join you,” Tom said.

We both went to bed and were asleep in minutes.

Sunday was a slow day. Both Tom and I were still very sore, so we watched an NCIS marathon – something we both liked, lay on the couch together and just rested. When we got hungry, Tom cooked and I ate. It was a nice uneventful day.

Art came in at seven and wanted to know all about the car accident, any new security protocols, and about the thirty victims and the serial killer that Justin and I found. I guess the FBI gossip line is as fast as the one we have at school. I let Tom give him the update while I went into the backyard to enjoy the warm night air. I love the warm weather of summer.

I opened my iPad and I noticed a number on my Dropbox icon. When I opened it up, there were two new files from Justin, one in the Jewelry section and another in the Knick-Knack folder. He must have found another victim. The picture showed an average looking woman – nothing distinctive about her. She looked around forty with long blond hair with blue eyes behind rimless glasses. She was smiling in the picture. It looked like some of the school pictures I get every year. When I opened the information about her, there was a note from Justin.

Teach – this is Penelope Dougherty, another suicide. I found it last night when I was searching for more victims to fill in the empty months. She was a kindergarten teacher and I can’t find any reason for her to take her own life. All the articles about her death talk about how much she loved her job and the kids she
taught. If we are right – she did have a secret. The trinket left was a little toy race car.

My stomach tightened into a queasy lump. When I looked at all the other victims’ photos, I could believe they had a secret. Everyone had secrets. But this woman was a teacher, a kindergarten teacher like me. Had she molested one of her students? What could she have done that put her on the serial killer’s execution list? Because that’s what it was.

I dialed Justin’s number.

He answered with, “I knew I’d hear from you as soon as you opened the file.”

“She’s a kindergarten teacher, Justin. What did she do?”

“I don’t know,
Teach.”

“I’ve been thinking about our killer and the victims. Somehow he finds out a bad secret about these people and then puts them on an execution list.”

“You think he goes to them and presents his evidence of their secret?”

“Yes, I do. I think so because of the suicides. Let’s say he goes to them and shows them the evidence. Then he lets them decide.” I set my iPad down on the table. I just couldn’t look at the teacher’s picture anymore.

“Like he gives them till the next day?”

“He tells them he’s going to tell everyone – maybe go to the press. They decide they can’t live with that and kill themselves.”

“And the people who are killed?

“They are all killed with items in their own home, right?”

“Yes, except we’re not sure on the gunshot victims.”

“Okay, so maybe he presents the information and they attack him.”

“Self-defense as a reason for killing?”

“Okay, sure.”

“Then why bring the trinkets unless he knows that he’s going to kill them or they’re going to kill themselves?”

“He knows they’re going to die – either by his hand or their own. He just leaves it up to them.”

“Then it
is
murder,” Tom said as he came through the sliding glass door.

“Why?” Justin and I said together.

“First degree murder has to be planned ahead of time and carried out with the sole intent on killing the person. In second degree murder, you kill the person on purpose but didn’t plan to do it. It is more of a spur of the moment killing. This guy is somewhere in between because he’s forcing them to either kill themselves or attack him.”

Tom nodded his head forward and I slid up, letting him get behind me, then leaning back against him.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

I picked up my iPad and showed him the new victim Justin found.

“A kindergarten teacher?”

I nodded.

“What was her secret?” Tom asked.

“Justin can’t find one.”

“But I bet your mind is racing as to what it could have been.” Tom wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. It felt good to be against him.

“I’ll keep digging, Teach,” Justin said as he ended the call.

I sighed back into Tom’s embrace.

He kissed me on my cheek and said, “
It’s okay, Liza. Maybe she wasn’t a very nice kindergarten teacher.”

A few minutes later, I walked Tom out to his patrol car.

He threw his suitcase into the trunk and then pulled me into his arms.

“Mrs. Crasten is going to start talking about me to the other neighbors.”

Tom chuckled with his lips near my ear. “Let her talk. In a few weeks, you won’t be here anymore.”

Then he turned his head, leaned down and kissed me deeply until my toes started to curl.

I pulled away. “Hey, that’s not fair.”

“I just want to make sure you miss me,” he said with a huge smile and eyes that glistened with delight.

I put my hands on his shoulder, pulled him close to me and leaned on him, making sure his entire body felt mine. Then I returned the kiss he gave me.

When I pulled away, he looked at his watch.

I laughed, then turned him around. “No time, go home, Tom.”

Tom grumbled something about needing a cold shower but he got into his car and went home.

The next days flew by. Art ordered take-out and Kenny spent more time at my house than he did at his own. We should have installed a door between our condos, as Kenny did to the fence between our yards. We never saw Angelo, so he either decided not to bother kidnapping me or couldn’t get anywhere near me.

Justin’s search on the teacher came up empty and when he dug into the doctor, he couldn’t find anything on him or any excessive withdrawals from his account to indicate that someone was blackmailing him. He also looked into the other victims’ financials and couldn’t find any regular payments to anyone except normal bills. A few of the victims didn’t even have a hundred dollars in their accounts and wouldn’t be good candidates for blackmail.

My FBI entourage went with me everywhere. On Monday, they helped me pick out a wedding gift for Tom an antique pocket watch. The cover over the clock’s face was an antique sheriff’s badge from the Old West. The dealer I bought it from said it was used in Sacramento after California became a state in 1850. On Tuesday, I bought a new Jeep, the same color and type as my last one. It performed well in the ditch and it wasn’t its fault it couldn’t handle a head-on collision with an FBI sedan.

In three days, I watched almost my entire DVD collection, including a few chick flicks that people bought me over the years that I never even opened. I spent a total of only three hours out of the house and was going stir crazy. My only relief was when Kenny came over at night. We played games, watched the dogs romp in the backyard and talked. God, I loved talking to that man. We could have a conversation and laugh hysterically about how much the grass grew in a day.

Around ten on Wednesday night, I walked Kenny to the door. He reached for the door, then frowned.

“What?” I asked.

“How about I take tomorrow off, we slip your protective detail and have some fun? You look like you need some fun, Stretch.”

I sighed. He was right but…

“Okay, how about I take tomorrow off, we include your protective detail and still have some fun?”

I smiled and nodded.

Kenny leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips. “Make some plans, Stretch and I’ll make them happen.”

That evening when Tom called, we talked about wedding plans, my move to Gainesville and how everyone in town was doing.

After almost an hour, I fell silent and Tom asked, “What’s the matter, Liza?”

“Nothing,” I shrugged, although he couldn’t see me.

“No, I know you well enough. When you’re silent, you’re unhappy. Are you feeling trapped in your own home?”

“Yes,” I said, with a little more force than I intended.

“Ouch, okay. Why don’t you ask Kenny to take tomorrow off and the two of you do something together?”

“You’re suggesting Kenny and I go out, together?” Now this was a surprise, I didn’t think Tom trusted Kenny.

“Liza, if I tell you not to go – you’re going to go. So please let your protective detail know exactly where you are going and let them tag along. I want one of them standing alongside of you and Kenny at all times, okay?”