Weeds in the Garden of Love (19 page)

He spotted a mailbox on a corner and parked near the middle of the block. He pulled on gloves to prevent fingerprints on the envelope. Walking back to the mailbox, he read aloud the name of the addressee on the front of the envelope: “Helen Roberts c/o Dixon, Floyd, Beswick and
Swain.”

“
Enjoy the pictures, Mrs. Roberts.” Eric dropped the envelope into the mailbox. He quickly looked around to make sure no one saw him. Returning to his car, Eric could scarcely control his exhilaration. He imagined the chaos those pictures would cause. He laughed to himself. He had never had so much fun. Eric Millard had a twisted view of life and a sense of humor to match.

The aftermath would prove costly for many.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Accomplices

Garth hadn’t been to a meeting in over a month. Craig was worried. He had called Garth several times, but his number was not in service. The telephone company had no listing for him. Finally, Craig went to Garth’s apartment to track him down. Garth Hodgson’s name was not listed on the buzzer directory by the front door. Craig rang the super’s number, and a middle-aged woman wearing a housedress came to the front door. Her hair was in curlers, and she was wiping her hands on an apron.

“
Sorry to bother you, ma’am. I’m looking for Garth Hodgson. He used to live here.”

“
Lotsa people are looking for him.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“
I’m Craig Andrews, an old friend of his. Do you know where Garth is?” She told him he moved and did not give her a forwarding address.

“
When did he leave?”

“
A few weeks ago. Moved out late one night. Never said anything about leaving. Look, I have to go. My shows are on.”

“
Thanks, ma’am.” She began to close the door, but Craig had one more question. “Oh, and ma’am. Can I ask who else was looking for Garth?”

“
A couple of guys from the sheriff’s office. Had some papers for him. Told ‘em what I told you.”

Craig stood for a moment after she closed the door. He knew Garth was under a lot of stress. He hoped he hadn’t done anything foolish. He still wondered what he was doing the day he saw him in Botsford Downs. Craig sensed something was very wrong.

* * *

Garth parked where he could watch the front door of the church. In the side mirror, he saw Craig walking up the sidewalk. Garth rolled down the window and waited until he was right beside the car. He spoke in a gruff whisper. “Craig. It’s me. Get in.” Craig stopped. He didn’t recognize the car, but when he saw Garth inside, Craig opened the door.

As he sat down, Garth began to drive away. Craig was thrown back into his seat and couldn’t reach the door handle. “Hey! Give a guy a chance to close the door, will ya?” Garth ignored him and checked the rear view mirror. He was acting strangely. “You okay, Garth? Haven’t seen you for awhile, and I’ve been worried about—”

Garth interrupted him. “Hang on, buddy. I’ll pull in here, and we can talk.” They were in a coffee shop parking lot. Garth got out and headed towards the restaurant.

Craig kicked one of the tires on Garth’s car. “Nice beater. Your old car died?”

“
Tell you all about it.” Garth was looking around nervously. “When we get inside.”

Craig suspected paranoia was playing a big part in Garth’s actions. He hoped the car wasn’t stolen. They sat down at a table in a back corner. Garth apologized for not staying in touch. He explained the SOE was after him. He went underground after they issued a warrant for his arrest.

“
You need money?” As soon as he said it, Craig realized it was a stupid question.

Garth laughed. “Oh, no—I’m good. Got almost enough to buy us another coffee.”

Craig didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “Where have you been? Your landlady said you moved out. She didn’t know where.”

“
Had to,” Garth said. “I’m living on welfare, under an alias. I don’t want to go to jail for something that’s not my fault. Got a different car and fake I.D. from a friend of a friend. Here, have a look at my new driver’s license.”

“
Greg Hodges? How’d you come up with that?”

Garth had a smug grin on his face. “Same initials as mine. Looks good, huh? Let me know if you ever need any fake I.D.”

“
No—I think I’ll pass, thanks. Can’t imagine being Clay Anderson or Chip Aardvark. I’ll stay Craig Andrews for now.” Garth couldn’t help but chuckle at him. He always got a kick out of Craig’s sense of humor. “So Garth, tell me this. What were you doing parked on that street in the Downs about a month ago? You took off in a hell of a hurry.”

Garth suddenly became very serious. “You don’t want to know.”

“
I do want to know. That’s why I asked.”

Garth explained he was watching his old house because Loretta was dating some guy. He wanted to find out who he was. He was jealous. Garth had never stopped loving her. He was also wary of anyone he didn’t know around his girls.” I saw him leaving early one morning. He kissed Loretta good-bye.” Craig heard the anger in his voice.

“
The neighbor, again?” Craig was trying to ease the tension.

Garth shot back, “No, it’s not the neighbor!”

“
So—who is it?”

“
Sure you want to know?”

“
Let’s not go through that again,” Craig pleaded. “I want to know!”

“
Might make you part of this.”

Craig was growing tired of this verbal volleyball match. “Part of what? How can I be part of something when I don’t know what it is?”

“
Part of getting this guy in trouble. He’s not supposed to be doing what he’s doing with Loretta.”

Craig was exasperated. “My head hurts. Tell me who this guy is!”

“
It’s Lorne Davis.”

Craig was blown away. “You mean the SOE guy—the lawyer?”

“
One and the same,” Garth said. “I’ve seen them a bunch times at our house in the Downs. I’ve also watched them leave his place and even saw them going into a motel.”

The Sunset Motel rears it ugly head once again.
Then, Craig thought this was no time for levity. This was serious. “What are you going to do, Garth?”

“
I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to ruin Lorne Davis. Then, I’m going to get Loretta back. That’s what!”

Craig almost asked Garth if he truly wanted her back but thought better of it. Garth was his friend and needed help. “How do you plan to do that?” Craig heard his mother’s voice warning him about curiosity and cats when he was a kid.

“
I’m going to get proof—photographs, videotape, whatever it takes. Do you want to help me?”

“
I sure would. This’ll be fun.” Craig anticipated the thrill of amateur detective work. From the time he read the first book, Craig secretly wished he’d been one of the Hardy Boys: tailing suspects, sitting on stakeouts and nailing the bad guys. “From what I’ve heard, this Davis guy deserves whatever he gets.”

“
You bet he does,” Garth said.

* * *

Lorne Davis set down his Dictaphone and looked out his office window. Lightning from an approaching storm flashed, and a second later, thunder rattled the windowpane. A sudden gust of wind threw the first lash of rain against the glass as the leading edge of the thunder cell arrived. He laughed as he watched a man hold a briefcase over his head to ward off the rain while he ran from his car towards the building.

The receptionist’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Call for you on line three, Mr. Davis. It’s a—Mrs. Christine Andrews.”

Chrissie Andrews,
Lorne thought.
She’s
that hottie from Towercrest Realty. Recently divorced. Boy, would she be a fun ride.
“Hello, Mrs. Andrews, this is Lorne Davis. How may I help you?”

Chrissie explained her lawyer suggested she register her child support order with the SOE and gave his name as a contact.

Lorne was always polite and charming with the ladies. At the same time, he wanted them to know he was the one with the power and control. “Certainly, Mrs. Andrews. All I require is the case details, so we can register it. Do you expect your ex-husband will go into arrears?”

“
No, but my lawyer thought this would help avoid any potential problems.” Chrissie gave Lorne the basic details of the case. She included the telephone number for her private line at Towercrest.

“
You’re wise to do this. Your lawyer is right. Deadbeats think twice before they tangle with us. I’ll make the arrangements and notify you when it’s finalized.”

“
Thanks, Mr. Davis.”

“
Please call me Lorne. We’re not too formal around here, Mrs. Andrews.”

“
And please call me Chrissie, Mr. Davis … I mean, Lorne. We’re not too formal around here either.”

Lorne was enjoying the banter but decided to curb his enthusiasm, for now anyway. She was ripe for the picking, but he could wait until the time was right to ask her out. He knew she would be willing. “Okay, Chrissie. I’ll be in touch.” Lorne hung up the phone and said quietly, “You can count on it, sweetheart.”

* * *

Vince Hill had only recently started working in the mailroom at 100 Sandford Plaza, but he knew a letter with no return address required special handling. They said the x-ray was negative for anything suspicious, so he placed the envelope in his cart. His first stop would be the seventh floor. The elevator doors opened revealing dark oak paneling with the words: “Dixon, Floyd, Beswick and Swain” in shiny brass letters behind a nice receptionist lady sitting at a desk. She was busy talking on the phone, but she winked at Vince and waved him by. It made Vince feel important, like he was smart, like he was somebody.

Vince’s first stop was Mr. Floyd’s office. Mr. Floyd was one of the big shots, and he made Vince very nervous. Whenever Mr. Floyd spoke to him, Vince could never answer. He would just look down at the floor. He hoped Mr. Floyd wasn’t in the office. He wasn’t. Amelia, Mr. Floyd’s secretary, was sitting at her desk. Vince was glad. Amelia was nice.

Mrs. Roberts’s office was next. This was the envelope with no return address. Vince told her secretary Pamela about that. Helen Roberts came out of her office and said hello to him. Vince mumbled a faint hello, placed the envelope on the desk and left quickly. He was embarrassed and intimidated.

“
He’s such a shy guy,” Helen said to Pamela. “Mailroom says he does an excellent job though.”

“
I think he’s weird. Gives me the creeps.”

“
Don’t be silly. He’s harmless. Any mail for me?” Pamela handed Helen the envelope and mentioned the special handling because of no return address. “Probably a love letter from some secret admirer,” Helen said. “I’d better open this in private.” Helen chuckled and stepped back into her office. Pamela checked down the hall to ensure Vincent was no longer around.

In her office, Helen checked the postmark. The letter was local. Her instincts told her this letter would contain evidence pertaining to a pending divorce file.

Her instincts were right.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Revelations

The bathroom light startled Lorne. He had dozed off. The alarm clock on the bedside table said nine forty-two p.m. He had only been asleep for a few minutes. He heard the shower running and pictured that gorgeous naked blonde covered in warm soapy water.
Round two?
Lorne threw back the covers and headed for the bathroom.

* * *

Craig was pouring a cup of coffee when the phone rang. He was groggy from several long nights of surveillance with Garth. Last night, they had staked out Lorne Davis’ apartment and tailed him when he left. They followed him for a while but lost him in traffic. Even though it was Sunday, Garth suggested they should check the Fortress. Lorne’s car was parked in his assigned spot. They waited and watched for a few hours, but he didn’t show. They finally gave up around midnight.

The call was from Jim Roberts, his boss at Victoria Crossing. He sounded very upset about something.

“
What’s up, Jim?”

“
She knows,” Jim whispered.

Craig was still half asleep and confused. “Who knows?”

“
Helen. She knows all about it.”

“
All about what?”

“
She has pictures,” Jim said. “She says this is the last straw. She says she’s going to divorce me—take everything and ruin me. Says she knows exactly what was going on. What could she know? Nothing was going on. We were just friends. I mean we never even—” Jim paused for a moment. “Oh, man. She probably has pictures of the other ones, too.”

Craig couldn’t believe the absurdity of their conversation. He was determined to find out what they were talking about. “Jim, settle down and tell me what’s going on.”

“
Not on the phone. Meet me at the office at ten.”

“
Okay,” Craig said. “But what is—”

Jim didn’t let him finish. “Don’t tell anyone, and make sure you’re not followed.” Then, he hung up.

Craig was perplexed. He sat for a moment, staring at the receiver in his hand. Then, he laughed out loud when he thought of Jim’s request not to tell anyone. Craig hung up the phone. “Okay, Jim buddy. I won’t tell anybody, but if I did tell—who would I tell? And what would I tell them?”