The Good Die Twice (10 page)

A bell rang overhead. Skizzy walked over to a
television monitor showing the front entrance. Someone was peering
through the window. “Damn drunks. Can’t read.” Skizzy looked at the
stack of bills. “You brought all twenties, right?”

“Yes.” Dagger turned to Sara saying, “Can’t
have any of those detectable fifty and hundred-dollar bills.” He
handed Skizzy the two composite pictures. “See if you can find
these two in your computer. I’m looking for a third guy, too, so
pictures of their known associates would help.” He also handed him
several phone numbers. “I would like a listing of all calls to and
from these numbers for the past five years.” The numbers were for
all the phones at the Tyler mansion.

“Five years?” Skizzy moaned.

“Yes, but you can narrow it down to only
those that are repeated with unusual frequency.” Dagger
repositioned the thick watch on his wrist and checked the time.

“I suppose you want this yesterday?”

Dagger’s dark eyes smiled. “Of course.”

CHAPTER 16

“I can’t believe this looks so real.” Sara
held up her birth certificate. She and Dagger stood on opposite
sides of their oval-shaped, granite and chrome kitchen counter.
Halogen lights hung from a wide beam suspended from the ceiling.
The room looked like an industrial kitchen designed for a chef
school. Clean lines, a lot of light, an abundance of cabinets, and
plenty of room. A wall of windows overlooked the flower garden. The
walls matched the granite countertops. Herbs and flowers hung
upside down from a rod in the greenhouse just off the kitchen. A
vase filled with yellow roses sat in the middle of a chrome and
granite kitchen table.

Dagger downed half a glass of fresh-squeezed
orange juice. In the background they could hear Einstein
screeching, “GOOD MORNING. RISE AND SHINE. AWWWKK.”

“You should put the birth certificate in the
safe and always carry the driver’s license, Social Security card,
and gun registration,” Dagger instructed. “What time are you
meeting Sal Wormley for lunch?”

“One o’clock.”

Dagger saw the name on the card that
accompanied the roses. “You didn’t say much about your evening with
Nick. Are these roses an apology for something?”

Sara shrugged. “I should probably be the one
sending him roses. He got a little pushy and I had to push
back.”

“Good girl. I knew you could take care of
yourself.”

Sara noticed the thick file folder and notes
on the Rachel Tyler case. “Have you found out anything new?”

“Interesting rags-to-riches story. Rachel
Lidowski was the only child of a steelworker and housewife. She
changed her name to Rachel Liddie at the age of sixteen when she
entered a local modeling contest. The rest is history. Her face
graced the covers of Seventeen, Cosmopolitan, McCall’s, all the
fashion magazines, as well as the New York and Paris runways.”
Dagger leaned over, elbows on the counter, studying the flawless
face. It was a face no one would forget. Unique, one of a kind.
“All that attention and she was still able to keep her head on
straight.”

Sara picked up one of the photographs. “Why
did she give it all up so young?”

“Very few models remain marketable after the
age of twenty-four, twenty-five. There’s always another fresh
sixteen-year-old face to replace them.” Dagger studied some of the
notes, took a sip of his juice. “She’s almost a little too good to
be true. No scandalous headlines, no partying til all hours on the
drug scene. She came from a pretty strict background. The
all-American girl, mom and apple pie.”

“You don’t trust the report?”

Dagger shrugged. “There’s always a flaw, even
in a masterpiece.” He smiled a crooked smile, his dark eyes
twinkled. “After all, look at us.”

The buzzer at the front gate rang. “COMPANY,
COMPANY, AWK.”

As they walked past the aviary to the
surveillance monitor for the front gate, Einstein had his claws
clamped to one of the bars on his door, his beak protruding between
the bars. “AWWWKK, COMPANY.”

“We know, Einstein. Calm down,” Sara
whispered. She stroked Einstein’s head.

Dagger checked the monitor. “You won’t
believe this. It’s Robert Tyler.”

Robert refused cream and sugar, preferring
his coffee black. They sat around the coffee table in the living
room. Wearing a short-sleeved peach shirt with Cedar Point CC on
the pocket, Robert looked ready for a game of golf. He sat stirring
his coffee for two minutes making idle conversation, never
drinking.

“That is really a beautiful bird you have
there.”

Einstein eyed their visitor through the bars.
He flew over to the birdbath and pulled the chain, spraying himself
with water.

“You’ve put a lot of work into his aviary,”
Robert added.

“I’ve had Einstein for five years. I would
never give him up.”

“Leyton tells me that’s the major
disagreement between you and Sheila.” Robert finally took a sip of
his coffee, glancing briefly at Sara through the steam wafting up
from his cup. “Sheila says this is Sara’s house.”

“Yes,” Dagger replied. “I rent office and
living space for me and Einstein.”

Sara walked over to the computer and busied
herself going through the list of businesses Tyler International
owned. As far as anyone knew, Sara was just a secretary, which was
fine with her and Dagger. People tended to disregard her, speak
more freely, open up. Robert kept glancing over at her. She looked
down at the blue leggings and oversized floral shirt she had
changed into after visiting Skizzy and wondered if she was
underdressed.

Dagger’s gaze shifted from Sara to Robert.
Leaning forward, he watched as Robert’s hand started to tremble,
the same tremble he had displayed the day before when Dagger showed
him the computer drawing of Rachel.

“I think I killed her,” Robert whispered.

Dagger cocked his head, his ponytail flipping
across his shoulder. “Come again?”

“Rachel.” Robert blinked several times,
stared down at his manicured nails. “I received a call around
midnight last Wednesday, Thursday, whatever day. It was a female
voice, sounded frantic. I didn’t recognize it at first. And when I
did, I said, ‘Rachel? Is that you?’ Then there was a dial tone.”
His gray eyes appeared to glaze over. Robert Tyler looked old,
suddenly aged in twenty-four hours and feeling a need to unburden
his soul.

“What did you do?” Dagger asked.

“I walked the floors wondering if I had
dreamt the damn thing. Maybe it just sounded like her. Maybe I had
a few too many nightcaps.”

“Do you have Caller I.D. on your phone?”

“I didn’t even think to use it. I didn’t tell
anyone about the call for fear they would think I was in need of a
shrink.”

Dagger leaned over and lifted the lid on the
painted box. He handed Robert the earring.

“Does this look familiar?”

“My god, yes. It was Rachel’s. I gave her
money on her trip to Australia to buy herself something
special.”

Dagger placed the earring back into the box.
“So you feel if you had taken the call seriously, you might have
saved her life?”

Robert rested his elbows on his knees and
steepled his hands under his chin. “Something like that. I put that
phone call completely out of my mind because it was so outlandish.
If Rachel were alive, why did she wait til now to contact me? I
need you to find out where she has been all this time. Once we find
that out, I think we’ll find out who she was running from and who
finished the job they started five years ago.” He pulled a check
from his pocket and handed it to Dagger. “This should be sufficient
for a retainer. Let me know if you need more.”

CHAPTER 17

Nick plied himself with coffee as he shook
the cobwebs from his head.

Lily stood vigil, her face masked with
motherly concern. “Anything else, Master Nicholas?”

“Did my brother come home for lunch?”

“I’m here.” Eric turned to Lily. “That will
be all.” Once she left, Eric poured himself a cup of coffee and sat
next to Nick at the dining room table. The picture of Rachel stared
down at them.

“She was supposed to be dead,” Nick
whispered.

“I guess we need some answers, don’t we?”

“God, I should have drunk more last night so
I wouldn’t have to deal with this.” Nick pressed his hands to his
head.

“Seems to me, little brother, that’s how you
have been drowning it out for the past five years.”

Nick pulled his hands away and glared at
Eric. “And why shouldn’t I?” His hands started to shake. “I’m
responsible. I killed her.”

Eric clamped a hand on his brother’s
shoulder. “You should be celebrating, Nick. You didn’t kill her.
She was alive all this time.”

“But how could that be?” Nick massaged his
temples vigorously. “If only I could remember.” He reached for his
glass of lemonade but Eric intercepted.

Eric brought the glass up to his nose.
“Dammit, Nick!” He carried the glass to the balcony and flung the
contents over the railing outside. “How can you remember anything
if you live your life in a haze?”

Nick leaned back and closed his eyes to the
bright sunlight. When he opened them, Eric had set another glass of
lemonade in front of him. “This one is straight up I take it?”

Eric placed one hand around the back of
Nick’s neck while the other gave him a brotherly pat on the face.
“It’s going to be okay, little brother.”

“I don’t understand, Eric. I saw her body.
You found me down by the river soaked to the bone the next morning.
I had to have carried her…”

“Shhhh.” Eric stole a quick glance toward the
doorway. “Keep your voice down. Now think about it.” He wrapped a
protective arm around his younger brother, just like when they were
kids. Eric had been the one to cover for Nick when he was ten and
broke their mother’s favorite antique vase. He had even covered for
him when he wrecked Dad’s Porsche. Nick hadn’t been a reckless
youth, just adventuresome. “Dagger is wrong. It couldn’t have been
Rachel. Maybe you should finally get some therapy, Nick. You need
to come to terms with what happened. It was an accident.”

Nick took a sip of lemonade, his mind
drifting to that night five years ago. Wistfully, he murmured, “I
wonder if there are people out there hoping I don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” Edie asked, appearing in the
doorway carrying a vase of fresh cut roses. She set the vase in the
middle of the table and continued to rearrange the stems. The brim
of her straw hat was turned up and her white sundress had a smudge
of dirt on the pocket. “Let’s not keep secrets, boys,” she smiled,
pouring herself a cup of coffee and taking a seat across from
Eric.

Eric explained, “This whole thing that Dagger
brought up is playing havoc with Nick’s head. I suggested he make
another stab at seeing a therapist. Maybe someone specializing in
repressed memories.”

“You two talk like I’m not even in the room.”
Nick pushed his glass away, slouched back, a fist propped under his
chin.

Edie reached across the table, not quite able
to reach Nick’s hand. “That’s not true. We’re family, Nicky.”

“Maybe you can convince him,” Eric said.

She tapped a well-lacquered nail against her
coffee cup. “Actually, I agree with Nick. If he’s having problems
with over-imbibing now, won’t it get worse once he starts to
remember?”

Eric scowled. “You’re supposed to help,
Edie.”

“I am, Sweetheart.” She placed her hand over
Eric’s. “But really, do you believe Dagger? All he has is an
earring that could be owned by thousands of other women. Do you
really think that it was Rachel that was seen being murdered? Come
on.” She flashed her green eyes from Nick and back to Eric. “I say
give it up. Forget about it. Dagger’s investigation will go
nowhere. Don’t you think Rachel would have tried to contact someone
over the past five years if she were still alive?”

“Just get her talking about her childhood. I
want to know where she was born, where she grew up, what her
parents did for a living.” Sheila’s voice was even more demanding
and vicious over the phone. “Find out what schools she went to. It
obviously wasn’t a finishing school. She didn’t even know which
fork to use last night.”

Worm pulled the phone away from his ear
slightly. “You don’t have to yell Sheila. I’m not deaf.”

“Where are you meeting her for lunch?”

“The Patio.” Worm looked around at the tables
dotting the sidewalk, shaded by the canopy overhang. The sidewalk
cafe offered outdoor seating for those wishing to mingle with
nature.

“How tacky,” Sheila muttered.

A turquoise motor scooter pulled into a
parking space near the front entrance. Worm eyed the driver dressed
in black leather with a black leather vest zipped over a
short-sleeved, white, scooped shirt.

“Oh, my.”

“Oh, my, what?” Sheila mimicked.

“Uh, sorry. I was distracted by a motorcycle
with great, uh, pipes.”

“Well, pay attention.”

The driver pulled off a turquoise helmet,
sending more than a yard of brown-and-gold-streaked hair tumbling
down her back.

“Oh, my god. Save me.”

“Now what!” Sheila demanded.

“You won’t believe who just pulled up on a
motorcycle dressed in leather.”

Sheila’s voice perked up. “Dagger’s
there?”

“No. It’s Sara.”

Sara carried her helmet under her arm. Dagger
had bought her the motorcycle a month earlier. She was afraid of
his big Harley and didn’t feel comfortable driving his cars even
though he felt she was ready to take them out on her own. Instead,
he bought her a small Honda to drive to and from the stores during
nice weather.

Worm was just ending his cellular call when
she walked up. Several men seated at the outside tables stared at
her approvingly.

Worm said, “I didn’t know you owned a
bike.”