Cold Justice (11 page)

She turned around, facing the back of the property. She
could plainly see Kevin Rand’s house behind. She walked across the wet lawn,
her shoes now making a squishing sound as she walked. She heard thunder far off
to the north. She went about fifty feet, and then onto the Rand property, along
the side of the house, crossed the front lawn, and then to the street beyond.

A couple of young girls, chattering away, walked by on the
other side of the street. They should be in school. An old woman hustled past
holding an umbrella. She smiled a sweet hello to Annie, and scurried away,
probably hurrying to get home before it rained again.

Annie stood on the sidewalk and looked back. This is near
where Abigail Macy would have been standing. This is where she saw the murder
take place. She had seen the victim run from the side of the house to the front
lawn of the Macy house, where she was caught, strangled, and then dragged back.

Dragged back to the Blackley house.

She was sure of it now. The victim had been Vera Blackley.

But who was the killer. Anderson Blackley? Or somebody else?
Was Blackley really out of town?

That’s what she had to find out.

A few drops of rain slapped into her hair. She raised her
head and looked for the sun, now behind a black cloud. The rain started more
seriously. She had left her umbrella in the car.

She ran around the Rand house, crossed the back yard,
through to the Blackley residence, up the side of the house, and back to her
car. The rain was in earnest now, and she jumped into her car and started it
up, slapping the wipers on.

The tires hummed on the wet pavement as she touched the gas
and splashed up the street toward home.

Chapter 19

Five Days Ago

SHE WAS READY for him. Her mind was made up. He couldn’t
play with her emotions any more and expect her to keep following him around
like a dimwitted floozie forever.

She looked at her watch, and sat on the couch, pulling back
the curtains. He should be here any minute. She watched and waited. Finally,
she saw his car pull into the driveway.

She smiled grimly to herself as she stood and went to the
front door.

She opened it and watched as he stepped from his vehicle. He
looked around, as if to be sure no one was watching, and then strode up the
path.

Vera Blackley opened the door and greeted him with a smile
before he had a chance to knock.

He stepped in; set the bottle of wine, he was carrying, on a
stand by the door, and looked her over. He whistled, his gaze moving down
slowly, taking in the sight of the tempting woman in front of him.

She smiled again as his gaze stopped on her face. He moved
in, holding her close, and they kissed passionately for a moment. His hands
wandered, and she pulled back. She left him staring as she wiggled into the
living room.

He grabbed the wine from the table, and followed, not moving
his eyes from her, watching her walk.

She took a seat on the couch, crossed her legs, and looked
at him seductively. She finally spoke, “It’s good to see you again, darling.”

He set the bottle on the coffee table and sat beside her,
leaning in, his hands reaching to touch her all over, but she pushed him away
again. He sat back. “What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning slightly.

“Nothing,” she said. “Why don’t you open the wine and pour
us a couple of glasses?”

He looked at her thoughtfully a moment, and then answered
with a shrug, “Ok,” He stood, swept up the bottle and headed for the kitchen.

She went to the stereo and chose a CD. She popped it in the
player, and a mix of some 80’s music came quietly from the speakers. Some soft
love ballads she liked.

She heard the cork pop in the kitchen. A cabinet door
slammed. She took a seat on the couch again, crossed her legs, and waited until
he returned.

She had a plan, and she was going to stick to it. She must
have an answer tonight. She didn’t see any reason for prolonging it and was
determined to know what their future was, that is, if they had any future
together at all.

He came back in the room, set the glasses on the coffee
table and poured the wine, bubbling and spitting. He handed her one, and picked
up the other one, raising it as if to make a toast, before taking a taste.

She sipped at her glass, watching him.

“My wife’s out of town again,” he said. “Gone to see her
mother.” He shrugged. “It’s better that way. It makes it easier for us to get
together.”

She nodded and smiled.

Now’s the time. “When are you going to divorce her?” she
asked quietly, sweetly.

He studied her, and then said, “Soon.”

“You have been promising me that for a long time.”

“Vera, darling, it’s just not good timing right now.”

“You’ve been saying that for a long time as well,” she said,
not so sweetly, and then asked in a demanding voice, “When will it be the right
time?”

“I don’t really know.”

“And when will you know?” Her voice was sharper now. “You
say you love me. You know I love you, and so what's standing in the way?”

He groaned. “You know I love you, Vera. Do we have to have
this conversation again?”

“Yes, we do. I need an answer.”

He set his glass on the table and stood up. He began pacing
slowly.

“I need an answer, now,” she said.

He stopped and looked at her. He opened his mouth to speak,
and then shut it again with a sigh.

She waited.

“Can we just go upstairs,” he said. “Then I can think about
it later.”

She shook her head. “No.”

He stared at her, pleading, “Come on Vera, I missed you. Let’s
go.” He sat beside her and reached out to hold her, but she held up her hands.
He stopped abruptly and scowled, and then sat back and glared at her.

She said, “I have promised you before, I will divorce
Anderson, as soon as I’m sure you will divorce your wife. He doesn’t love me
anyway, and I don’t love him.”

He sighed.

“Look,” she said, “I’m not just someone you can come to any
time you please, and have sex with me. I want more than that. You have to prove
you love me.” She raised her voice and demanded flatly. “Divorce your wife.”

He frowned. “Come on, Vera. I said I would. Don’t you trust
me?”

She looked at him doubtfully. “I’m not sure.”

He stood and gave her an angry stare. “What do you mean, you’re
not sure?”

“I’m not sure if you love me,” she said, as she crossed her
arms, glaring back at him.

“All right. Here’s the truth,” he said slowly, deliberately.
“I can’t divorce her right now. It would ruin me financially.”

“And is money more important to you than I am?” she asked
indignantly.

“No, of course not, but...”

“But? No but. Either you love me or you don’t. Which is it?
Either you divorce her now, or...”

He narrowed his eyes. “Or what?” he demanded.

“Or I will have to tell her... about us,” she said flatly.
She raised her nose and looked at him unemotionally.

He threw his hands in the air in exasperation, and then
began pacing again, furiously, back and forth, turning to glare at her, and
then pace again. He stopped and turned to her, his arms folded tightly. “You
wouldn’t do that,” he said.

“Oh, yes I would.”

“And then your husband would know about us.”

“I don’t care,” she said calmly, and then screamed, “I don’t
care any more.”

“Well I do,” he shouted.

She glared at him, her lips thin, her nose in the air. Then
in a menacing voice, low, threatening, and calm, “I will tell her.”

“You will do what?” he shouted.

“I will tell her about us.”

He leaned in, pointing at her, anger in his eyes. “If you do
that, then it’s all over for us.”

“It may be all over for us anyway.”

“What do you mean by that?” he demanded.

“I mean,” she said. “It looks like we are through.”

He swore at her, savagely, angry, fuming. “You wouldn’t do
that.”

“Yes, I would. And I will. That’s a promise,” she said
smugly.

“But I love you,” he said, begging, whining.

She stood and walked over to him, her hands on her hips, her
eyes flaming. She leaned in and said coolly, “I will give you two days to do
something about us, or I will tell your wife about us.”

He raised his hand as if to strike her. She stepped back,
unruffled. “Don’t you dare touch me.” She turned and sat, her back straight,
her head up, her eyes narrow, angry.

He strode from the room. She could hear the bathroom door
slam.

She had stuck to her plan. She had given him an ultimatum,
as she was determined to see it through.

Chapter 20

Thursday, August 18th, 12:55 PM

THE RAIN SHOWERS that had earlier dampened the day had been
chased away by the gentle breeze now sweeping down Richmond Valley. The sun was
out in full, the pavement steaming as the wet city dried off.

Annie pulled the Escort into an industrial complex on
Magnetic Drive. A towering sign at the street had a long list of businesses
occupying the cookie-cutter units. She drove slowly down the long row, eyeing
the small signs attached to the front of each unit. They found Proper Shoes
down near the far end. 22b. She slid into one of the slots in front, and they
climbed from the vehicle and approached the unit.

Jake pulled on the front door and swung it open. Annie
stepped in and Jake followed her into a small reception area. They approached a
woman sitting behind a counter, guarding the entrance into the room beyond.
Behind her, in a larger area, was half a dozen desks occupied by sales people,
talking on phones, taking orders, the room humming with activity as business
was done. The woman looked at them over the top of her tiny reading glasses.
She frowned, as if they had interrupted her in the middle of an urgent matter.

“Yes?” she asked, sounding bored.

“Annie and Jake Lincoln to see Anderson Blackley. We have an
appointment at one o’clock.”

Without a word, the receptionist stabbed a button on the
bank of phones beside her. “Your one o’clock is here.”

“Send them in,” came from the speaker.

The woman pointed to a door at the back of the room. “Straight
through there,” she said, as she went back to the papers on her desk.

They stepped through a door-sized space at the end of the
counter, and weaving around desks and workers, they approached Blackley’s
office. A gold sign on the door said ‘Anderson Blackley. National Sales Manager’.
The door swung open as they approached it.

Blackley waved them in.

The brightly lit room had three or four bulging filing
cabinets that appeared to have served many years. There were shoeboxes stacked
along one wall. Piles of stuff along another. The small desk had papers and
folders piled high, a monitor at one end, and a phone at the other. There was a
small window along the left wall, the blinds closed.

Annie looked at Blackley, sizing him up. He was in his late
thirties, maybe early forties. She noticed he was rather handsome. Dark hair,
well-trimmed, nice blue eyes, good physique. He was dressed in a suit with no
tie. His top button was undone, the jacket hanging loosely around his
shoulders.

They sat in a pair of guest chairs on the near side of the
desk. Blackley went behind his desk and sat in a stuffed leather chair. He
leaned back, dropped his elbows on the armrests, and looked at them, waiting.

Annie smiled. “Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Blackley,” she
said.

Blackley gave a slight nod and said nothing.

“As I told you on the phone, we were hired by your neighbor,
Philip Macy, to look into the death of his wife.”

“Tragic,” Blackley said, “but as I understand it, she
committed suicide.” His voice was full, mellow, and not unfriendly.

“We don’t think so,” Annie said. “We think perhaps she was
murdered.”

“And you think this somehow involves my wife?”

“We’re not sure,” Annie said, “but we are looking into the
possibility. Mrs. Macy reported seeing a murder take place on the Rand
property, behind your house. We checked for missing persons in the area, and
your wife seems to have gone missing about the same time.”

Blackley looked back and forth from Annie to Jake. “I have
no idea when Vera went missing. I was away since last Thursday, and when I came
home Monday, she was gone.”

“Did you talk to her at all during that period?” Jake asked.

Blackley shook his head. “No, I didn’t call her, and she
didn’t call me.”

“Is that unusual?”

“Not at all. We’re not a happily married couple, Mr.
Lincoln.” He shrugged. “Haven’t been for some time.”

“So you think she may have just left you?”

“Maybe. I don’t know for sure. That’s what I thought at
first.” He sighed deeply. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“And you checked around with people she knows?” Annie asked.

Blackley nodded. “I called her family, and some friends, but
no one had heard from her for quite some time.”

“What about money. Did she take any money? Did you check
your personal bank accounts?”

Blackley looked at the ceiling a minute. “She has her credit
cards, but hasn’t used them as far as I know. Her car is still parked in the garage.”

“What about extra clothes.”

Blackley shrugged. “I have no idea. She has so many clothes.
I would have no way of knowing if she took anything or not.”

“Jewelry? Suitcases?” Annie asked.

“Again, I don’t know,” Blackley said. “And she didn’t touch
the bank accounts.”

“Doesn’t that seem unusual?”

“Not really. The last time she left, she had met some rich
guy. She just dropped everything and up and left. Gone for about three months.
She didn’t take anything with her that time either.”