Sweet Poison (35 page)

“You mean like if he was a drug dealer.”

“They can hold something heavy, but they’re not very big.” She crouched down and felt under the car, then flipped on her back and shined the light up under the wheel wells, easing herself along all the way around to the other side. “Nothing,” she said brushing the dirt and dry leaves off her clothes. “Let’s check out the property.”

“What if they’ve got a security system? Exterior cameras? Why don’t
you
go, Janey? I’ll stay here.”

“I thought we were a team.”

“We are. If you get arrested, I’ll bail you out.”

Setting off across the grass, Jane pointed the flashlight beam up at the eaves, trying to locate a camera. If one was up there, she couldn’t find it. Opening the side gate, she slipped into the yard. Directly in front of her was a three-season porch. Nobody appeared to be
around. No lights burned at all on the first floor, although there were several on upstairs toward the back. Shining her flashlight in front of her, she made her way slowly into the yard, where a wooden deck jutted off the porch. All the outdoor furniture had been covered for the winter. Orange clay pots had been stacked along one end of the deck. She washed her flashlight over a pile of split logs, stacked and ready for the fireplace.

For the next few minutes, she inspected the yard, turning things over, looking at anything and everything that might be used as a container. She walked behind the deck and opened three plastic tubs but found nothing but gardening tools, hoses, and other summer miscellany. The garage door was locked. It was an obvious hiding place, but short of breaking a window, there was no way she could get inside. She found some plastic sacks half buried under a section of raspberry vines, but they turned out to be empty.

She was just about to give up when headlights struck the opposite side of the house. Switching off the flashlight, she edged along the fence at the other end of the yard until she came to another gate, this one higher. Peeking over the top, she saw that a late-model white pickup truck had just pulled into the drive. Gabriel got out. She watched as Cordelia moved under a streetlight on the other side of the street, nodding pleasantly as she walked past. She was trying to be just another huge woman in a black cape, wearing a sequined dress and a plaid hunter’s cap, the flaps now pulled down over her ears, out walking her infinitesimal dog.

“Do I know you?” said Gabriel, standing by the door of the cab.

“Must be the hat,” said Cordelia, nodding to him. She kept on walking.

He stared after her but eventually gave up and went inside.

Jane waited until she heard the door latch, then moved carefully through the gate and crouched next to the truck. She assumed it was his father’s.

It felt like a lot of effort for nothing, but she reached up again and felt along the underside. She didn’t think it was smart to turn on the
flashlight this time, so she just slid her hand along, feeling for anything that seemed out of place. She didn’t expect to find a magnetic box, so when her hand hit something rectangular in the left rear wheel well, she got down on her hands and knees and pried it loose.

Sure enough, it was just the kind of hiding case she’d mentioned to Cordelia. It was approximately seven inches by four inches by two inches. Probably not big enough to hold one of the bigger tasers, but plenty big enough for the smaller variety.

Scrambling to her feet, she kept her head down until she’d cleared the back of the truck. When she reached the street, she set off at a dead run back to Cordelia’s car.

“What’s that?” asked Cordelia, already in the driver’s seat.

“I don’t know.” Jane was glad now that she’d worn gloves. She didn’t want to leave any fingerprints behind. “Let’s take a look.” She carefully undid the latch. Inside, a rubber O-ring kept the contents airtight.

“It’s a camera,” said Cordelia.

It was a very small digital camera with a fairly large screen.

“Turn it on.”

Working by the light of the overhead streetlamp, Jane pressed the On button. The camera whirred to life.

“Check to see if there are any photos,” urged Cordelia, breathless now that they’d actually found something.

Jane pushed the Menu button, then clicked through the options. “Okay, here goes.”

When the first shot popped up, she felt a rush of excitement.

It was a photo of Charity, on the night she died, taken from about five feet away. She was on the ground, curled up in a fetal position right in front of the Dumpster. Her eyes were wide open, staring at the ground, looking terrified. Jane moved to the next picture. Another shot of Charity. This time she was flat on her back, her hands pulled behind her, just as Kenzie’s had been. A strip of duct tape had been placed across her eyes to prevent her from seeing her attacker.

Next came a close-up of Charity’s stomach, with a word written in red lipstick across it. But the word wasn’t
justice
. It was
injustice
.

“Hey, that’s the wrong word,” said Cordelia, bending closer to get a better look. “Keep going.”

“That’s it. There aren’t any more.”

They sat silently for a few seconds, digesting what it all meant.

“We’ve got to tell someone about this,” said Jane. “Give me your cell phone.”

“But … our search wasn’t exactly legal.”

“I realize that, but there’s got to be some way the cops can use it. Hey, when I put it back, I could leave part of it sticking out. That means it would be plain view. I think the cops can take a look if it’s in plain sight.”

“Brilliant. But how do we tell the cops about our illegal search?”

It was a good question. “We need to call Nolan. He’ll know what to do. As far as I’m concerned, this is as close as we’re going to get to a smoking gun. The only person who could’ve taken those photos was the man who raped and murdered her. If the police can just get over here before Gabriel comes back outside and discovers what I’ve done, then we’re in business.”

Cordelia grabbed hold of Jane’s hand before she could punch in the numbers. “Charity’s clothes didn’t look ripped to me. Did they to you? They weren’t even out of place.”

Jane went back, looked at all three photos.

“I know this is crazy, but could it be … is it possible she was never raped?”

“The police said she was,” said Jane.

“Did they?”

She had to think. “Yes, it was in all the papers. He must have taken the shots before he raped her.”

“Okay,” said Cordelia. “I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. Make the call.”

Jane didn’t need any coaxing. She pressed the numbers, held the phone to her ear, and waited for Nolan to pick up.

T
he next afternoon, Jane was just about to leave the club and head over to the campaign office when one of the waiters stopped her and said there was a guy in the bar who wanted to talk to her right away. She asked if he was a big black guy with gray hair and a fuzzy caterpillar mustache. The waiter said that just about covered it.

Making her way through the tables to the front of the house, she found Nolan sitting in a booth, enjoying a beer. She slid into the seat across from him. “Have you heard anything?”

“They arrested him,” said Nolan, looking up as a waiter set an order of loaded nachos in front of him. “Help yourself,” he said, pushing the plate to the center of the table.

“When?” asked Jane.

“Early this morning. He’s slippery, but he couldn’t talk his way out of that camera. Oh, and I should tell you. Sergeant Liz Hamill, one of the primaries, found a plastic sack buried in a pile of leaves in the backyard. Guess what she found inside?”

“The taser?”

“And the lipstick and the duct tape. Keen’s still crying innocent, but then they always do.”

“So it wasn’t Corey after all.” Jane had to call Mary right away.

“Guess not.”

“Maybe he never did that rape up north either.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

She told him what had happened to Kenzie on Halloween night. “Do you think it was Keen?”

“My God, Jane. I hope you called the police.”

“Kenzie wouldn’t let me.”

“I thought you two—”

“We were, but then we got back together. And now she’s gone again.”

His gaze dropped to the nachos. “I think I won’t keep score.”

“Tell me something.” Jane picked up a chip covered in melted cheese. “Was Charity raped?”

“No, she wasn’t. Emerson played that one pretty close to the vest. The press assumed, but they assumed wrong.”

“It didn’t look like it in the pictures. Of course Keen could have taken them, then attacked her. But I’m glad she escaped that much.”

“I figure her heart probably gave out before he could get to it. The fact that she wasn’t raped was apparently the point that caused Tom Emerson to hesitate about arresting Corey. He was all set to, but then Corey started talking like there had been a rape. Of course, he could have been repeating what the news reports were all saying, so that he didn’t act like he knew anything special. Whatever the case, Emerson had a gut feeling that he should keep looking.”

“I’m glad he did.”

Nolan crunched thoughtfully on a chip covered in refried beans and sour cream. “Except, when you think about it, it’s possible Corey outfoxed everyone. He could’ve planted the evidence to make it look like Keen was guilty.”

Jane hadn’t considered that.

“I think,” he said, crunching another chip, “that we’ve got two highly clever men who both had motives.”

“So you’re saying I can never feel entirely confident Corey isn’t guilty?”

“That’s the way I’d look at it. But the cops, well, they want to get the right guy, but they also want to close the case. Arresting Keen makes it all go away.”

Not good enough, thought Jane. “The word,” she continued. “It wasn’t
justice
but
injustice.”

“The police sat on that, too. In fact, they’ll sit on it awhile longer, so don’t go telling anyone. And make sure Cordelia keeps her mouth shut, too.”

“I better call her right away.”

“Yeah, you better. I’ll stay here, drink my beer, eat my nachos, and enjoy the restaurant my future employee created.”

“I’m not going to be a future employee.”

“You amaze me, woman. How you stumbled over that evidence I’ll never figure out.”

“Dumb luck.”

“Okay. Maybe so. But I’ll take dumb luck over no luck any day. Honey, you gotta work with me sooner or later. And don’t wait too long either, or I’ll be so old and decrepit that I won’t be able to teach you all my secrets. Just come on by some night and I’ll show you all my open cases. You can take your pick. Now go call Cordelia.”

He had no idea how much she wanted to do just that. “Thanks, Nolan.”

He shooed her away, saying, “I don’t want thanks, I want you.”

Up in her office, Jane called Cordelia to give her the news.

After sputtering a few seconds, Cordelia said she was deeply wounded to hear that Nolan thought she had a big mouth. She’d told only Melanie, her neighbor across the hall, a woman at the grocery store who was standing next to her in line, her secretary at the theater—

Jane cut her off, saying she wasn’t interested in a list. She told Cordelia to contact the throng and swear them to secrecy. When she was finished, she called Mary.

“Hello?” came an anxious voice.

“Mary, hi. It’s Jane. Heard anything from Corey?”

“Nothing.”

“Let me tell you the good news I just heard,” said Jane, hoping that it would lift her spirits. “Gabriel Keen was arrested this morning for the murder of Charity Miller.”

“Oh, Lord in heaven.” She was silent for a few seconds. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion. “I’ve prayed so hard that the police would find the real killer. I knew it wasn’t my Corey.”

Jane wanted to be happy for her, to feel absolutely confident that the police had the right man in custody, but after what Nolan had just pointed out, she had an uneasy sense that Keen’s arrest might not be the end of it.

“Tell me, Jane. Did you have anything to do with Keen getting caught?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I knew it. I knew you’d help us.”

“Call me if you hear from Corey.”

“I will.”

“Are you okay? Would you like me to come over? This has been pretty stressful for you, too.”

“You’ve already done much too much. But at least now I have some hope.”

Corey stood at the customer phone inside the Lunds grocery store on Penn Avenue and punched in Mary’s number. She answered on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.” He glanced behind him. Dean was cruising the candy bars. He looked like a different kid now that his hair was brown.

After catching the news about the AMBER Alert on TV Friday morning, Corey had hot-wired a car. He had to get himself and Dean out of the city fast. He picked up some hair dye on the way to a motel in the boonies. He’d dyed both of their hair last night. He couldn’t
believe Serena had stabbed him in the back like that. They had a deal. He would have kept his promise to bring Dean back if only she’d kept her part of the bargain. Now he was in deep. Way too deep.