Shadow of Doubt (29 page)

W
hile Aunt Aggie spent the night in hiding, Jill stayed in Aunt Aggie's house with Celia. David had decided to have dinner with his parents before they headed back to Jackson.

Still fully dressed, Jill lay in the guest room next to Aunt Aggie's room, where Celia was going to sleep tonight. Every muscle in her body was tense as she waited for her plan to work. The killer had to strike tonight. If he didn't, she didn't know what she would try next. She checked her cell phone to make sure it was still powered, and wished Sid would call.

It was already past midnight, and Jill could still hear Celia weeping in the bedroom. The pain Celia was going through broke Jill's heart. She hoped the joy of seeing her aunt revived would be enough to make Celia forgive her. The forgiveness would come hard, though, if her plan didn't work tonight.

The cell phone vibrated, and she bolted upright. Maybe they had caught the killer already. Maybe it was over. Quickly, she clicked it on.

“Jill?” It was Sid's voice.

“Yeah, it's me,” she whispered. “What is it? Has anything happened?”

“Nothin' here,” he said. “But somethin' else I thought you might be interested in.”

“What?”

“Lee Barnett. He got arrested tonight at Joe's Place. Seems he had too much to drink and got in a fight. Disorderly conduct.”

“Oh, no!” she whispered. “Sid, what if he's the killer? He can't make a move if he's stuck in jail! The whole sting could blow up in our faces if the killer's not free to strike.”

Sid wasn't buying. “We ain't callin' this off, Jill. He's in jail and I can't do nothin' about it.”

“You can let him back out,” Jill said through her teeth. “Sid,
think!
You're messing this whole thing up!”

“I didn't mess nothin' up. He got arrested fair and square. Remember, most of my cops ain't in on this sting.”

She began pacing the floor. “I know that,” she whispered harshly. “But isn't there someone who could go bail him out? Without him, we're in serious trouble here.”

“Jill, I'm tellin' you, your client is our killer. She's the only one we gotta watch.”

“Celia is in Aunt Aggie's room crying her heart out. She's not going anywhere. Do you realize we only have tonight? Please, Sid. You know the judge'll go along with setting bail to keep the sting from being sabotaged. I'll call him myself.”

“You gon' have to,” Sid said, “'cause I ain't callin' him. I don't like this.”

“Well, you don't have a choice! As long as somebody meets bail, that guy's out on the street where he can do the harm we need for him to do.”

Sid moaned.

“You let me know the moment something happens,” she said. “By the way, where is Stan?”

“Took him and his folks and Aunt Aggie to my house. Nobody knows. We took every precaution. I'm at Stan's. His and his parents' cars are still here. No reason for nobody to think he ain't in here, sound asleep.”

“All right,” Jill said. “Let me know the minute something happens.” She went out into the hall and peered into Aunt Aggie's room, just to make sure Celia hadn't overheard. Her client was sitting in the dark on the pillowed window seat, gazing out into the stars. She was still crying, but she was quieter now. Jill wished Celia would fall asleep.

She went back into her room and quickly dialed information to get Louis DeLacy's phone number. It rang several times before he answered. “Hello?”

The judge had been sleeping, but Jill didn't let that stop her. “Louis? Jill Clark. We have a problem.”

“What problem, Jill?”

“They've arrested the major suspect—other than Celia—for disorderly conduct.”

“What? Of all the cockamamy…”

“He's in jail, Louis. I need for you to set bail so somebody can get him out. I'll pay it myself. Just please, help me. If he isn't out, we'll never know if he's the real killer.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake. I'll set it at fifty dollars, Jill, and I'll go to the police station right now and take care of it. But I can't bail him out. That would look too suspicious. And I don't want you leaving Celia.”

“I'll find someone to do it. Thank you, Judge.”

She hung up and punched out the number for Midtown station. She hated calling the fire department this late at night, when the guys were probably asleep, but it couldn't be helped.

“Midtown fire station,” someone said.

She hesitated. “May I speak to Dan Nichols, please?” she whispered.

The man didn't hear her well enough. “Excuse me?”

“Dan Nichols,” she repeated just above a whisper.

A few minutes passed, and finally, a groggy-sounding Dan came to the phone. “Hello?”

“Dan, it's me,” she said.

“Jill? I can hardly hear you. Where are you? Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” she said, “but I need a favor.”

He paused. “Jill, what's going on?”

“Please, will you just do me a favor? This is very serious. I need for you to do me this favor without asking any questions, I need for you to do it as soon as possible, and I need for you to keep quiet about it.”

“What is it?”

“Lee Barnett was arrested tonight for brawling at Joe's Place. His bail is going to be set at fifty dollars. I need for you to give it about twenty minutes, enough time for the judge to officially set bail, then go get him out. I promise, I'll pay you back with interest, and I'll explain everything for you tomorrow. But I need for you to do this.”

Again, there was silence. “Jill, why would you help him? Where are you?”

“I can't explain right now. Please, trust me. This is very, very important.”

“Since when have you been Lee Barnett's advocate?”

“I'm not. Please, Dan, will you trust me and do it? Can I count on you?”

He hesitated again. “I guess so, Jill, but tomorrow I would like to hear the story.”

“I promise you will,” she said. “And trust me, it's a doozy.”

D
an Nichols paid the bail, then waited around for Lee Barnett to emerge from jail. When he did, he looked as mad as a rabid dog.

The cop who brought him up pointed him to Dan, and Barnett swaggered over. “You the one bailed me out?”

“That's right,” Dan said.

“I owe you,” he said. “I just don't have it right now. I haven't gotten a job yet.”

“Don't worry about it.” Dan started walking toward the door, unwilling to get too chummy with the man who might very well have poisoned Stan. What Jill was up to was beyond him.

“Hey, I appreciate it, man! Nice to have a friend in town.”

Dan glanced back and started to tell him that he wasn't his friend, but he decided to leave it alone. Instead, he just headed back to the fire station.

 

F
rom where he was parked outside, R.J. watched Barnett walk back across the street to Joe's Place, where his car was parked. He couldn't believe the judge had set bail already, and to make matters even worse, he'd been assigned to follow him again. R.J. didn't see the point, if every time he arrested a guy, they let him go. He supposed if they wanted to waste his time, it was their prerogative.

He watched him pull out of the parking lot, and realized he could bust the guy again for drunk driving, if he wanted to. But he didn't. He watched him drive in a roundabout way through Newpointe, as if he couldn't remember which way would take him home. R.J. followed him as he drove through town, waiting for him to make a move.

They came to a busy intersection at the corner of First Street and LaSalle Boulevard, and a car got between them as the light turned red. R.J. tried to keep his eyes on the taillights of the Grand Am, but soon he lost sight of it. Had he gone left or right? He honestly didn't know.

He cursed and gunned his engine as the light turned green. He passed the car in front of him, cursing again, and tried to catch up to Lee Barnett. But it was too late. Barnett was out of sight.

S
id began to get nervous as he sat in the dark in Stan's bedroom. If they could anticipate how the killer would strike, it would be so much easier. But so far, the only method had been poison. Would the killer come in and try to inject more poison into Stan, or would they bring a gun this time and just shoot him outright? He didn't know what to be prepared for.

Police officers were staked in the trees all around the house where they could see anyone who approached the house the moment he arrived. But they had to catch the killer in the act or there would never be a conviction for anything more than breaking and entering. They had to be able to prove they had the right person.

He looked over at the bed, where they'd put a dummy under the covers. In the dark, it looked as if someone slept there. He hoped that all they'd gone through in the last two days was not in vain. He hadn't been crazy about this idea at first, but it had grown on him. And as they'd planned out the farce, he had begun to hope it would work. If Celia was the killer, and he felt sure that she was, they would be able to prove it unequivocally tonight, to everyone, including Stan.

His telephone—which he brought instead of his radio because of the noise level that would alert any intruder—vibrated on his hip, and he grabbed it up and put it to his ear. “Yeah?” he whispered.

“Someone's coming,” one of the guys outside said. “We almost missed them. But whoever it is is on foot, headed toward the house from the woods behind it.”

“Is it a man or a woman?”

“Hard to tell. They're wearing a black ski mask.”

Sid closed his eyes and hunkered back against the corner. “Are they armed?”

“Can't tell. Whoever it is is almost to the house.”

Sid aimed his weapon, waiting.

He got up and went to the door of the bedroom, where he could see the back door. There was no sound, none at all, and he waited for a scratching or breaking glass, anything that would indicate the door was being broken into. Instead, the door came open easily, as if the intruder had a key.

It
had
to be Celia!

He sank back into the bedroom, waiting. What would she do next?

But the prowler didn't come toward the bedroom. Sid waited as agonizing moments ticked by. He heard nothing. If people had truly been asleep in this house, no one would have been awakened. He inched to the door again and peered out. There was no sign of whoever had come in. The uncertainty of what was going on made him very nervous. Should he leave the bedroom and find the person, wherever they were hiding? Should he go ahead and make an arrest? If it was Celia, wouldn't this be enough evidence to convict her, or would she just convince the judge that she had come into her own home not meaning any harm?

Something told him to sit still, not to move.

Then he heard the slight squeak of the back door opening again. He inched back to the casing and saw the person stealing out. Quickly, he grabbed his phone.

“She's comin' back out! Don't let her get away!”

“Did she try anything?”

“Nothin'. Didn't even come in the bedroom. Man, somethin's up, but I don't know what.”

“Did she plant a bomb…start a fire?”

“I don't know, but I ain't likin' this. Just grab her. Don't let her get away, whatever you do! I'll be searchin' the house.”

“I'm on it.” He heard the phone click off and looked out the window. His phone vibrated again.

“Chad's in pursuit, but she took off through the woods. Chad's followin' on foot, and we have some patrol cars comin' out on the other side.”

“How did she get away?” Sid yelled into the phone.

“Just went the other way. We weren't expectin'—”

“You
idiots!”
Sid screamed. “Catch her or all your jobs are on the line.” He flicked on the lights and began to go through the rooms one by one, looking for anything that might look suspicious. There was no fire, none that he could detect, no smoke of any kind. He began to sweat. It was hot in here, getting hotter. Why was the heater on?

He went from room to room with his gun, looking around, desperately trying to determine what the intruder had done. In the living room, he began to smell gas. Slowly, he walked to the fireplace, where the smell was strongest. There was a gas starter in the bricks, and he pulled his latex gloves out of his pocket, put them on quickly, and tested the chrome key. It had been turned on full blast, letting gas flow through the air. Whoever might have been in the house sleeping would never have woken up.

So there
had
been a murder attempt!

He ran outside. “All right, we've got an attempt,” he said. “She turned on the gas starter in the fireplace, tryin' to kill everybody in the house with gas poisonin'.”

“You gotta be kidding.”

“Don't go in there. Call the fire department.”

“Maybe we could get fingerprints on the starter's key, or on the door.”

“First we gotta catch her, and we gotta do it now.”

R.J.'s unmarked car screeched up to the curb, and Sid jumped in. R.J., who'd been out looking for Barnett, had heard all the commotion on the radio and decided to come this way.

“Man, turn this thing around and go to the street behind them woods!”

“What's goin' on?” R.J. asked. “I heard somethin' about gas leaks and Celia runnin' through the woods. How'd she get away with the place surrounded?”

“Ask
them,”
Sid said, disgusted. “Just step on it.”

R.J. turned his blue light on and hurried around the streets until he came out on the other side. Already, four police cars were parked there with blue lights flashing. The canine force was out, and he could hear their two dogs barking as they hurried through the woods. He got out of the car.

“Hey, Sid, we got something!” someone called, and he hurried over.

There was a BMW parked there, pulled slightly in among the trees.

“This car has to belong to the person involved.”

Sid's heart lunged. “That's Celia's brother's car. That's what she's been drivin' since all this started.”

The cops all stared at him, as if they didn't want to hear it. “Come on, man. We gotta find her.”

“Well, did you call to see if she's slipped away from Jill?” R.J. asked.

“No,” Sid said, kicking himself. Quickly, he dialed the number. Jill answered the phone. “Yeah?”

“Jill, it's Sid.”

“Has something happened?”

“Sure has. Look, has Celia left the house?”

“No, she's still in Aunt Aggie's room.”

“All right, do me a favor. Get up, go to her room, talk to her. I want to make sure you see her face-to-face.”

“Why? You think I'm hearing a tape recording of her crying or something? I hear her, Sid.”

“Jill, just do it!”

He listened to the silence for a moment as she went to the other room. He heard her calling, “Celia?”

In reply, he heard Celia's voice. “Yeah?”

“You okay?” she asked. “Can't you get to sleep?”

“I'm okay. Don't worry about me.”

“All right.” Silence again as Jill went back to her room. “Sid, she's fine. You heard her,” she whispered.

Sid turned back to the BMW. “Then do you have any clue where David is?”

“David? Well, he had dinner with his parents, then came back and went to bed.”

“Go look in his room, Jill. I need to know where he is.”

“Okay.” He heard her knocking on the door, and calling out, “David? David, it's Jill. I need to talk to you.” No answer.

Then Sid heard Celia's voice again. “Jill, what is it?”

“I need to talk to David,” she said. “It's very important. He's not answering.”

“Maybe he's sound asleep.”

Jill banged again loudly. “David! Wake up!”

Still no answer. She opened the door. The bed was still made up, and the clothes he'd been wearing lay in a heap on the floor. David was gone.

“Where is he?” Jill asked Celia, panicked.

Sid heard the silence, then, “I guess he went out again. Must not have wanted to wake us up.”

Jill was breathless as she came back to the phone. “Sid, he's gone.” She ran to the back door and looked in the garage. “His car's gone, too.”

“That's what I thought,” Sid said. “Jill, I think we may have found the killer. And you're right. It ain't Celia.”

 

C
elia stood in David's room as Jill finished her phone call. From the panic in her friend's voice, she knew Jill thought that David was the killer. But that was ludicrous. He was her brother, and he loved her. He had done nothing but support her through this whole ordeal.

She went to the bed and picked up the photo album that lay there. It was the same one she'd seen him studying the other day. She opened it and saw a page full of her baby pictures. Her parents held her like a pageant trophy and smiled with such pride and delight that no one would have dreamed that they'd someday disown her.

She turned the page and saw herself at three, dressed in a flowing white gown with baby's breath in her hair, holding her newborn baby brother. It seemed more a picture of her than of him. She scanned the snapshots one by one, noting the way the camera zoomed in on her, leaving him as an afterthought.

She thumbed past the pageant years, where she was pictured in a fortune's worth of dresses and tiaras. David appeared in some of them, always to the side or in the background, sulking while she hammed it up. She wondered why he seemed so interested in those pictures now. They couldn't hold fond memories for him. She wouldn't blame him if they drew out resentment and bitterness in him.

But enough to kill? No, she thought. That was ridiculous. Whatever Jill was so upset about, it couldn't be that.

But a chill came over her as she realized that something wasn't adding up. If he was resentful and nursing childhood wounds, why did he act like the loving brother who would stick by her through thick and thin? Why had he put his workaholism aside to spend a week with her in her time of need?

She saw his briefcase lying on a table, and something compelled her to open it. She saw the usual items—his laptop computer, some paperwork that meant nothing to her, a day planner. She unzipped the pocket on the side and pulled out three pens. On the other side, she saw various notepads and Post-it notes haphazardly stuck down in the pocket. She pulled them out, but as she did, her fingers brushed something under the lining. She pulled it to see if there was another pocket. The lining came free…

She slid her fingers into the opening and pulled out what was hidden there.

Her heart froze.

It was the checkbook she'd been looking for.

She tried to catch her breath, but her chest seemed too heavy. She stumbled out of the room as her mind raced. It made no sense. David wouldn't—
couldn't
—have poisoned Stan.

She heard Jill in the kitchen talking to Sid in a panicked voice. Something about gas leaks and David's car in the trees…

Her heart sprinted as she tried to think. Had something happened to Stan?

She managed to move herself into the kitchen, just as Jill hung up.

“Is Stan all right?” she rasped.

Jill turned back to her, and her face changed. “Celia, you look awfully pale. Sit down.” Celia did as she was told, but she kept her eyes fixed on Jill. “He's fine,” Jill said. “But there was another murder attempt, Celia. They're looking for David.”

Celia looked down at the checkbook in her trembling hands.

Jill saw it. Gently, she took it out of her hands and opened it. “Celia, where did you find this?”

Celia frowned, desperately trying to think of a reason why David would have had it. “It was…in his briefcase…hidden in the lining…”

Jill's eyes widened, and slowly, she stooped in front of Celia and looked in her eyes. “Celia, I know this is hard for you. But I think your brother may be the killer.”

“No,” she said, beginning to cry. “There's an explanation. I know there is. You can't jump to conclusions. Maybe…maybe someone put it there, to set
him
up.”

Jill lifted Celia's chin and made her look at her. “Celia, David and Aunt Aggie were the only two who knew when you'd be at the hospital when the IV bag was changed. David was there the whole time. He was with Stan the day he was poisoned. He had the checkbook.”

“No!” Celia got up and pushed past Jill, shaking her head frantically.

Jill was red-faced as she clicked her phone back on and dialed. “Sid, it's me. Listen, you're not going to believe this.”

Celia couldn't listen. Sobbing, she ran out of the room as Jill told Sid that David was a killer.

She went to Jill's purse, which sat on a chair in the parlor, and pulled out her keys. Quietly, she went down the hall to the back door and slipped out. She got into Jill's car, cranked it, and pulled out of the driveway before Jill even knew she was gone.