A Heart Full of Diamonds (8 page)

The room Detective Briant led her to was an interrogation
room which looked exactly like the ones on television. Plain white walls,
unbroken save for the two-way mirror on one wall. An unpretentious table sat in
the center of the lackluster room. Metal folding chairs haphazardly pushed
under the edge of the table suggested a callous attitude, and a shiver slid
down Marilee’s spine.

Detective Briant set the cassette recorder down on its side
on the table, pulling a cord from the compartment in the bottom. He grinned at
Marilee.

“I can use the cord, right? You’re not gonna use it as a
weapon on either me or yourself?” His twinkling eyes eased her tension and she
was relieved to discover he had a sense of humor.

She smiled back as she took the seat he indicated, but
Marilee considered thoughtfully before replying. This was not some frolicsome
romp in the woods, a performance on television where bad guys were caught
within the hour. Elements within these walls concerned serious life and death
business.
Her
life and
her
death.

“Now, Detective, if I wanted to die, do you think I’d have
wasted all night and day running away from the men in the black car and then
hiding in a basement?”

Briant chuckled out loud. “‘Spose not,” he said as he
plugged the machine into a nearby socket, and checked to make sure the tape was
ready. “Well, here you go. First thing on the tape, please identify yourself. Name,
current address, that sort of thing. Then we need you to record every detail
you can think of, starting with why you were unpacking the suitcase, how you
found the diamonds, and everything that’s happened since.”

Her smile broadened. “I get it,” she said, swallowing a lump
in her throat. “You think Tony’s goons will hide until it’s safe to come out
and finish the job Tony ordered. If they’re successful and I die before we can
arrest Tony and I can testify, this will be strong evidence against him. Well,
I hope we get him and I can testify in court so you won’t need this tape. But,
I’ll be relieved you have it for that just-in-case moment.”

Detective Briant had the grace to blush, and that tickled
Marilee and gave her a moment to breathe before launching into the tale once
more. Hopefully this would be the last time she’d have to repeat it…at least
for tonight.  

The detective put his pad on the table in front of him and
set the pen next to it. He settled, waiting for her to begin.

Marilee sat quietly for a few moments, arranging her
thoughts in the best order she could. Making this recording was very important.
She wasn’t stupid and she hadn’t been simply teasing Detective Briant. The men
would be back. If they succeeded in killing her, then her testimony against
Tony would still be available.

She hated the possibility that the goons would complete
their assignment, but accepted that reality. She had to get past the thought,
and move on. If she couldn’t do that, she’d always be Tony’s victim, and her
life would never be her own.

She’d do whatever she must to stay free and alive. She
wanted to have a life after tonight; especially if she could share it… Marilee once
again stopped herself from finishing that thought. She felt her face make a
small grimace with the new realization her uncompleted thoughts about Richard
and Derrek were becoming an increasingly frequent habit.

Banishing the image of Richard from her mind, she took a
cleansing breath and nodded to the detective. He reached for the record button
and pushed it.

“My name is Marilee Curtice Ferguson…” she began.

Finally, Marilee emerged from the interrogation room, amazed
to find it was now three-thirty in the morning. Detective Briant looked as
exhausted as she felt.

Recording the details had brought back all the emotions. Anger
and fear had brought her an immediate rush of adrenaline, but had left her
washed out in the aftermath, her energy flagging. But it was finished.

It had taken about two and a half tapes to detail everything
she could remember, including the approximate dates when Tony had been out of
town ‘on business’ and the places he’d been, or at least where he’d told her he’d
been. It may be a helpful clue; she didn’t really know.

She did know she’d feel even better when the tapes were
saved on disk and printed out, with her name signed at the bottom.

She looked over at Briant as they walked back towards the
front of the station. “What happens next?”

“We keep regular patrols in your neighborhood, keep looking
for the men. We’ve had the car towed here, and we’re gathering as much evidence
as we can from it. We want you to keep to your regular routine as much as
possible. They knew it, or they wouldn’t have known where and when to grab you.
We’ll be watching; we may be able to find them soon.”

“That’s it? That’s all you can do?” Surprise and dismay
warred in her mind; she heard it in her voice.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Ferguson. At this moment, we can’t actually
prove a crime has been committed, other than the men kidnapping you and in
that, the victim has already been recovered. It’s simply your word about what
happened.”

Marilee gasped.

Briant frowned, speaking quietly. “Please know we believe
you, but there’s no hard evidence to back up what you say.”

“But what about the car? That’s evidence, isn’t it?” She
couldn’t believe this.

“Yes, but we haven’t found the occupants yet. Hopefully we
will, but until we do, our hands are tied, except putting extra patrols in your
neighborhood.” That sounded weak, but she realized it was all he could promise.

Marilee searched his face for a long moment, fear and anger
washing through her in waves.

“I’m really sorry we can’t do more right now, but let me
take you home. Hopefully we’ll catch the guys soon.” His hand gestured her
forward, his face and manner said the subject was closed to her further
indignant questions.

Marilee stifled a remark and once again began following
Detective Briant as they left the police station. At his car, she saw her
reflection in the window as she waited for him to unlock the door. She now knew
what a sitting duck looked like…Marilee Curtice Ferguson.

Marilee walked swiftly up the street in the gathering dusk,
nervously looking around her at the cars parked on the side of the roadway. Three
weeks had passed with no sign of the two men. The police continued to run
patrol cars in her neighborhood, but she idly wondered how much longer they’d
keep it up before the proverbial lack of manpower and funds had them abandon
the extra circuit.

Her earlier fear Richard would abandon her once he learned
about Tony was pleasingly laid to rest. Marilee found there was more a sense of
‘protected friend’ between them than anything else.

She tried hard to convince herself this suited her
perfectly. She lied. She wanted more from their relationship, but until this
Tony thing was behind her, she had to maintain her distance. At least they were
still friends. She counted what blessings she could.

Derrek continued to come over and bake cookies with her. Their
Sunday evening grilled-cheese-sandwiches-and-cocoa night was the high point of
her week. Richard picked her up from work as often as his schedule permitted,
which was an added bonus she thoroughly enjoyed. As they drove, they talked and
found many common interests. She looked forward to the verbal jousting they
enjoyed.

Tonight wasn’t one of the nights Richard could get free, and
she was on her own. Two days a week this was the circumstance, and although she
was nervous, Marilee just took extra care coming home.

She reached the base of the stairway and paused, looking
around her. Nothing seemed out of place, so she began the climb. Reaching the
top, she turned and walked up the driveway. Richard’s truck was not in the
driveway, but lights were on in his side of the duplex.

Marilee walked past his parking place, and entered the yard.

“Hiya, Marilee.” Derrek stepped out onto his porch, a grin
lighting his face. She got the feeling he’d been watching for her.

“Hi, Derrek, how was your day?” Her smile answered his as
she stopped.

“Oh, same old stuff. Are you still coming with me and Dad on
Saturday?” His voice held an expectant note, his face full of hope.

“You bet I am. I’ve never been to a planetarium. Wild horses
wouldn’t keep me from going with you.” Her voice was warm with anticipated
pleasure. “Do you know what time your dad will be off work?”

“Naw, but he’s ‘sposed to know tonight when he gets home. The
new schedule will be posted today so’s he’ll know for the next whole month what
days he’ll work. Can I come over tonight and help ya bake some cookies while I
wait for him?” Eagerness shone from his eyes as his mouth stretched wider with
his smile.

Marilee had been through this cookie conversation before,
and so had Derrek. It was now a game to both of them, with their responses
expected and given. Her smile spread out across her face.

“Have you finished your homework, yet?” She knew her eyes
sparkled with the fun of the game.

“Almost.” His face took on a pleading look, but that, too,
was part of their game.

“Well, then you can almost come to bake cookies.” Her giggle
was soft.

“Aw, Marilee! It won’t take long to finish. I can do the
rest right after supper.”

“Derrek, my friend, you know your dad will skin us both if I
let you come before it’s totally done. I’ll tell you what. By the time I get in
the house, put my things down and change into some comfy clothes, you should be
able to have your homework finished and we can get the cookies started. What
time will your dad be home tonight?” Her face still held a wide smile.

“He’ll prob’ly be home at ten. He’s gotta stop for milk on
the way home from work. Can’t I bring my homework over and finish it at your
place?” Hope dribbled all over his words.

“No, you can’t. It will take longer to gather it up and
bring it over than it will for you just to finish it, right?”

“We-e-l-l-l,” he drawled, his grin still wide.

“Well, nothing. Come on, Derrek. Finish it up and come over.
I think I still have a cookie left from last Saturday’s batch, plus I have some
milk to go with it. Hurry and finish and come over, okay?” She raised her
eyebrows, tilting her head to one side with the question.

“Okay,” he said slowly, “if I hafta finish first, I will.” The
grin had slipped to a grimace, knowing he’d lost his bid for early release.

“You hafta finish first, my friend, or we’ll both have Dad
down our necks and you know it. You hurry, I’ll change quick, then we’ll have a
great time. Okay, Partner?” Marilee schooled her features to a solemn
deal-making look and stuck out her hand for the traditional hand shake.

Taking her hand in a mighty shake, Derrek’s grin was back in
place. “I’ll hurry,” he promised.

“But do it right.” she admonished him.

“Will do. See ya in a few!” He turned and dashed back into
his house, and, smiling at his retreating back, she continued along the walk to
her own porch.

Unlocking her door, she entered and reached to turn on the
lights. A strong arm gathered her close, a hand pressing hard across her mouth.
A deep, gruff voice spoke in her ear.

“Don’t scream. Do y’unnerstan’?”

Marilee made a sound in her throat, and the hand eased its
pressure on her face by a fraction. The strong arm held her tight, but her own
fear held her still.

The men were back. She was a dead woman. Where were the
police? How did they get in? Why hadn’t anyone seen them? Where was their car? She’d
been looking for extra cars and hadn’t seen any. Panic made her whimper, her
eyes wide as she tried to see if this man was alone or if his partner was there
with him.

“Now, Mrs. F., I’m gonna to let ya go, but it’ll go real
hard on ya if y’make any loud noise. Y’unnerstan’?”

With the slightly decreased pressure on her face, Marilee
managed a small nod.

The pressure increased momentarily as she was given one hard
shake. “I’m warning ya. Y’make any sudden moves or y’make any loud noise and I’ll
have t’hurt ya some. I don’t want to, but the choice is yers. Ya do unnerstan’?”

Her mind was going a thousand miles an hour trying to find a
way out of this. She must remain outwardly calm or he wouldn’t let her go. Her
lungs burned, and she realized she was holding her breath. She exhaled as she
gave a small nod.

The pressure held a moment longer as she dragged air into
her lungs. The man released her with a little push, making her lunge forward to
keep from falling on the floor. She dropped her purse as the lights clicked on and
she regained her balance. She turned to look at him standing by the door,
blocking her exit.

A movement near the window caught her eye, and she glanced
toward it, taking in the second man. Neither were wearing ski masks this time,
and she saw their faces for the first time. The bodyguard Tony had assigned to
watch her those few weeks before she left was standing at the window. The other
man was completely unknown to her.

Faking a calm she wasn’t feeling, Marilee addressed the
bodyguard, forcing her voice to appear composed. “Ah, Karl, now I know why you
wore a ski mask. You knew I’d never get in the car with you otherwise.”

“That’s right, Mrs. Ferguson,” he said, his habitual scowl
more pronounced than ever.

“Well, you surprise me. I didn’t think you’d stoop to actual
murder, even for Tony.”

“What are you talkin’ about? We ain’t goin’ to kill anybody.”
His voice was gruff, his face flushed with anger.

“Oh? What were you planning to do? Take me for a Sunday
drive in the park?” Her own anger began to rise, giving her control over her
shaking muscles.

“We’re just goin’ to bring you back to Tony, that’s all.” He
took a step towards her, and she nearly took one back away from him, but held
her ground, standing a little straighter. She was still the boss’s wife. For
how much longer she didn’t know but she slipped into the role of authority at
once to see if it would gain her a release.

“How much is he paying you to kill me?”

“Why do you think he’s goin’ to kill you? You should know
Tony better than that. You’re his wife, and he never lets nothin’ of his go. Never.
So he wants you home. Period.”

“The period part I believe. It’s the going home part I’m not
sure of.”

“Mrs. Ferguson,” Karl said, frustration beginning to color
his voice. “My instructions are to collect you and bring you home to Tony. I’m
not bein’ paid to kill you or hurt you in any way, just to make sure you come
with us.

“You’ve already cost us extra time and effort, and Tony’s
not happy. He said this time to make sure you didn’t get away, but to bring you
with us right now.” He took another step in her direction.

Marilee moved this time, trying to keep distance between
them. She backed to the middle of the room, wishing it were suddenly much
bigger so she could put even more space between them.

She thought frantically about what she could do. She looked
at both men, trying to judge her options. The man by the door hadn’t moved
since letting her go but was watching her closely.

She turned back to the man she knew. “Look, Karl, I don’t
have a lot of money, but what if I give you what I’ve got, and you just tell
Tony you couldn’t find me? He doesn’t really want me back. He wants me dead. I
heard him say so on the telephone. Tell him anything. Tell him I’ve been hit by
a car and killed. I’ll give you the money, and then we can all go our own ways.”
She knew she was pleading with him, but she couldn’t go back to Tony. Not now. Not
ever.

Karl looked at the other man, but a small negative shake of
his head brought Karl’s eyes back to Marilee. “I don’t want any trouble, Mrs.
Ferguson, but Tony said I gotta bring you home, and that’s what I gotta do.”

“But, Karl, I–”

“No buts, Mrs. F.” The deep voice of the second man broke
into her sentence. “Now, we can do this two ways. Y’can come peacefully or we
can tie y’up ‘n’ drag ya with us. It don’t matter t’me. Only thing th’t matters
is yer goin’ with us. We’ve packed yer duffel bag with enough t’get ya home. Chicago’s
lovely this time of year,” the sneer in his voice was unmistakable. “Now, let’s
go.”

“Please,” she implored, and hated the weakness her voice
showed, but she was desperate. “Please don’t take me back. Please. Tony will
kill me. Do you want to be part of that? It will be your guilt as much as his
if you take me to him. Please let me stay!” Tears were coursing down her
cheeks, but she ignored them.

“We don’ work for ya, Mrs. F. We work for Mr. F. an’ we do
what he tells us. He ain’t gonna kill ya. He just wants ya back so’s y’can be
his wife. That’s all. He promised he’d take care of ya when we brought ya back.
So that’s what we’re gonna do. Take ya back. Now pick up yer purse an’ let’s
go.” He stepped to the couch and picked up her duffel bag. Turning towards the
door, he motioned her to precede him.

Karl stepped toward the door, which was still slightly ajar
from her interrupted entry and reached for the knob.

“Please, Karl,” her voice rose with her desperation. “Please
don’t take me to Tony. Please let me go. I promise you beginning today, I won’t
ever say anything about anything I’ve seen or heard where Tony’s concerned. I
promise. Just don’t take me with you! Please!” Marilee was backing toward the
kitchen as she begged for her freedom.

The other man took three steps in her direction, stopping
directly in front of her. His meaty hand clamped down on her wrist. “I told ya
t’get yer purse an’ let’s go. I meant it then, I mean it more now. If ya don’t
pick up yer purse, ya get t’leave it behind. If ya want it, pick it up. It
makes no difference t’me, but we’re goin’. Right now. D’ya want yer purse?”

The tone of his voice allowed no options. Marilee looked at
his tough features, his flattened nose, the way he looked like he had been a
boxer for lots of years. She looked at his eyes and realized there was no
softness there, only a flat look of total loyalty to Tony. The pressure on her
wrist increased marginally, and swiftly brought her back to the moment.

A sigh of air left her, and in seeming defeat she picked up
her purse from the floor where it had fallen. Marilee allowed her shoulders to
slump dejectedly. Her mind, however, was far from defeated. She was thinking,
checking for options, looking for assets. Maybe she could use the same thing
against them that had worked with Jamison. Hope flared within her breast.

“Could…could I have a moment to go to the ladies’ room
first, please?” She kept her voice low and pleading.

“Only if yer willin’ t’leave th’door open. We heard about
Mr. Parkes. Mr. F. wasn’t happy about ya gettin’ away at th’airport. D’ya
really need to go?” His sneer was ugly, and his mood begged for her to cross
him and give him an excuse to humble her.

Marilee straightened, standing taller, again the boss’s
wife. “Check the bathroom. The window’s too small for a child to climb through.
I won’t be long. There’s only one door; I won’t be able to get out of that tiny
room without you letting me out. Allow me a bit of privacy while I attend to my
needs.”

This man would never know the cost of effort on her part to
put forth that quiet dignity. He looked at her for a moment before violently
thrusting her wrist forward toward the bathroom, hurling her off-balance. She
stumbled, regained her balance, and walked quickly to the tiny room, her head
held high.

Closing the door, Marilee locked it. Speedily tending to her
needs, she turned on the water faucet, and quietly opened the cabinet over the
sink. She looked for any resource to secrete that would help her escape before
she reached Tony. She removed a small vial of over-the-counter sleeping pills
and tucked them into her pocket. It was the only thing she saw of value just
now.

She washed her hands and hurriedly dried them. Unlocking and
opening the door, she stepped back into the kitchen. The guard was right there
in front of her. He grabbed her purse and went through it, looking for any type
of weapon. Unsuccessful, he thrust her purse back at her and then motioned for
her to get moving.