Weeds in the Garden of Love (20 page)

Then, Craig wondered what had Jim so spooked he wouldn’t discuss it over the phone. He was usually so easygoing, so calm and
cool. Craig checked the clock on the stove. It was still early. Ten o’clock could not come soon enough.

* * *

Vikki was almost positive Lorne was cheating on her. She had no real proof, only a premonition. He had called earlier to cancel their date for that evening. He gave her a lame excuse about working late. She suspected he was lying.

Vikki put on fresh lipstick and checked her hair in the hallway mirror. “Okay.” She picked up her car keys from the hall table. “Now, let’s find out where he’s really going.”

She headed for Lorne’s apartment. Vikki was determined to discover the truth. She was not far from his place when she noticed Lorne’s car coming towards her. He turned right at an intersection. She sped up and turned left to follow him. She was a block behind him when he entered the employee’s parking lot at the SOE building. He parked in his assigned spot and walked towards the building.
Vikki pulled over and watched him from a safe distance. “Maybe he was telling the truth.” Lorne stopped outside the building and hailed a cab. “I knew it!” She made a quick u-turn.

The cab headed across town. Vikki followed, staying far enough behind to avoid detection. It turned onto a service road near the interstate and stopped across the street from a motel. Vikki parked in a 7-11 parking lot where she watched him get out of the cab. “I’ll bet he’s going to that sleazy motel.”
She hoped she was wrong. She wasn’t.

Lorne crossed the street and walked through the motel parking lot. He stopped at the third unit from the end and knocked on the door. Vikki could not see who opened the door. The light on the wall outside the unit was burnt out and the room was dark.

She had to get closer. She had to find out who was waiting for him in that room.

* * *

Craig was on his way out the door when the phone rang. He thought it might be Jim calling back, so he put down his car keys and answered.

“
Hi Craig, it’s Garth. How ya’ doing?” Craig quickly explained he was late and couldn’t talk.

Garth was obviously very excited about something. “Okay. But listen, Loretta has evidence against Lorne Davis and she’ll help us nail him. And get this, she also says he’s—”

Craig quickly cut the conversation short. “Call me tonight. Gotta go.”

“
Later.” Garth hung up.

Craig headed for the office in Victoria Crossing. He thought about Garth’s phone call.
Gotta nail that Davis.
It
’s the least I can do for Garth.
But Craig knew his first priority today was Jim Roberts. He was a friend—a friend with big troubles.

* * *

Robbie and Heather had to play quietly. Their mother was in bed with one of her headaches. Robbie heard her come in late last night. She thanked Mrs. Church for babysitting on such short notice, said good night and stumbled to her room. His mother was drunk again and would sleep late. Robbie would take care of Heather in the morning. After Rita quit, he assumed the role of caregiver. Robbie was eleven going on twenty. He had to be.

After his parents separated, Robbie missed his father so much his heart would ache. He wished his dad lived with them. He wanted things to be like they used to be. He didn’t understand. His father had tried to explain it to him, but Robbie didn’t want explanations. He wanted his family back together. He wanted to feel secure again.

Many nights Robbie would lie in bed and whisper in the dark: “Why, God? Why did you let this happen to us? Why can’t it go back to the way it was before? You can do anything—can’t you, God? Why can’t you do this for Heather and me? Why can’t you make my Mommy stop drinking? Then my Daddy can live with us again. Please, God—please.”

Even now, Robbie’s pillow is often soaked with tears as he drifts off to sleep. He is still a little boy, deeply hurt, with a broken heart, and he is powerless to do anything about it.

Robbie is a casualty—a victim of divorce. All children of divorce are victims. They are not the only victims—just the only innocent ones.

* * *

Jim Roberts’ car was the only vehicle parked in the lot at the Victoria Crossing sales office. It was Monday and a regular day off for the sales staff. Craig manned the office alone on Mondays. Like most builders, Jim used a model home as an office. It would be sold later, once the development was completed.

Craig parked his car beside Jim’s. He could hardly wait to find out what was going on. He wondered why his friend was so panic-stricken. He hoped Jim wasn’t involved in anything illegal like drugs or gambling. Craig didn’t want to be mixed up in anything like that.
Oh, that’s nice, Andrews.
Y
our friend is in trouble, and all you’re worried about is yourself. Reallllll nice.

In reality, Craig wanted to do whatever he could to help Jim. He owed him. Jim hired him after he learned Craig lost his job at Towercrest because of the divorce. He remembered what Jim had said: “This will help you get back on your feet. And besides, you’re a great salesman who’s going to make me a lot of money.” Craig smiled to himself. That was Jim Roberts. He was always willing to help the other guy. Craig hoped he could return the favor someday.

Craig opened the front door. “Hi honey, I’m home.” He expected at least a guffaw from Jim, but he was met with silence. He checked Jim’s office, the kitchen and the family room, which had been converted into a lounge for clients. Craig went upstairs to the bedrooms and bathrooms, but still no Jim.
I’ll b
et he walked down the street to check out the new stucco technique on that two story Tudor,
Craig thought.
He
shoulda left me a note. He knew I was coming
.

Craig left a note on Jim’s desk, telling him where he was going. On his way out the front door, he remembered he was wearing loafers. He kept a pair of construction boots in the garage to wear around the sites. As he stepped into the garage, he saw Jim Roberts hanging from the rafters; his face was frozen in a grotesque purple gaze.

“
Oh, my God! No—Jim! No!” Craig ran across the garage. He grabbed Jim’s legs in a futile attempt to save him. He had never touched a dead body before. He was startled by the feel of Jim’s cold, hard legs. He knew his friend was long gone.

Craig didn’t know what to do. He began to babble nervously. “Should I cut him down? No! You’re not supposed to do that! All the cop shows on TV say not to disturb the scene. Oh, yeah, the cops! I gotta call the cops! I have to get help!”

Craig raced back into the house. His fingers trembled as he dialed. He was in a slow motion dream as he talked to the 911 operator. He hung up the phone and couldn’t remember if he had given them the address.
I must have.
S
urely, they would have asked for an address. The address is one of the most important things.

Craig waited in the office for the police. He paced back and forth for what seemed like an eternity. He could not get his mind off Jim’s body hanging in the garage. He wondered why the police hadn’t arrived.
What could possibly take them this long? I wish they’d hurry up.

Then, Craig noticed a piece of paper tucked in a corner of his desk blotter. He recognized Jim’s handwriting.
Oh—man,
he did leave a note!
Craig picked up the note and quickly read it:

I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. She would have exposed me and taken everything I have. I couldn’t face it. I had no other way out. Forgive me Craig. I didn’t want anyone else to find me like this. I knew you would understand.

I hope God forgives me—

Jim

Finally, a police car pulled into the driveway. Craig walked out the front door and approached two uniformed officers peering through the garage door windows. “I’m Craig Andrews. I’m the one who called.”

“
I’m Patrol Sergeant Cane. Is there another way into the garage? We don’t want to open these big doors.”

“
Follow me.” Craig led them to the side door of the garage. “The only thing I touched in there was Jim’s legs. I panicked and grabbed them when I saw him  hanging there …” Craig wondered why he had to tell them that.

“
We’ve got it from here, sir,” Cane said. “Don’t go away. We’ll need a statement.”

“
I’ll wait in the office. Oh, I found a note on my desk from the … uh … the … from Jim,” Craig said nervously.

“
Did you touch that note, sir?”

“
Oh yeah, I guess I did. I picked it up off my desk to read it. I wasn’t thinking straight and didn’t—”

“
Don’t worry about it, sir.” Cane looked at his partner. “Vic, why don’t you go inside with Mr. Andrews and collect that note while I take a look in here?”

Craig showed the young police officer where the note was. Craig was still in a daze as he stood at the kitchen counter. He was staring blankly at nothing. The events of the past twenty-four hours had drained him; the late night surveillance, the early morning call from Jim and now this.

Craig didn’t want to give a statement. He wanted to run. He was afraid the police would ask him to go back into the garage and identify the body. He was terrified he would be forced, once again, to see Jim’s corpse hanging from the rafters. Craig didn’t want to ever see that again. But he knew it didn’t matter—the image was burned into his brain. He would never forget.

* * *

Vikki waited until both the 7-11 parking lot and the street were empty before she snuck across to the motel. Adrenalin had her heart pounding as she headed for the room Lorne had entered. The police car siren startled her as a powerful spotlight shone in her eyes.

“
Now, where would you be off to, little lady?” a male voice said in a distinct brogue. “Business or pleasure?” Vikki shielded her eyes from the light. What could she say? She was on the wrong side of town, sneaking though a sleazy motel parking lot at night.

“
Evening officer. I was … uh … going to the motel office to see if a … if a friend of mine is staying here. I’m worried about her.”

The police officer was now out of his vehicle and, as he walked towards her, he kept his flashlight pointed directly into her eyes. “Like to see some I.D. there, Miss. So who is this friend and why would she be here at this particular motel on a Monday night?”

“
Oh  umm  she’s visiting from out of town and doesn’t know the city very well.” Vikki handed the officer her driver’s license.

“
Okay—Miss Vikki Millard.” The officer looked at her skeptically. “You be careful. This is not the best neighborhood for a young lady to be out in, late at night.”

“
Thank you, officer. I’ll be careful.”

“
Oh, and Miss—”

“
Yes, sir?”

“
The office is that way.”

“
Thanks.” Vikki was embarrassed and quickly turned towards the motel office.

She questioned the desk clerk about room rates and amenities, stalling until the police car pulled out of the parking lot. Vikki thanked the clerk, walked out and, once again, headed for Lorne’s room.
Number four,
she thought, as she came close enough to see the number on the door. The lights in the room illuminated the curtains.
Let’s hope I can find a part in those curtains.
She did.

Vikki peered through the break in the curtains but all she could see was the left side of a double bed and a small portion of the picture on the wall behind it. She thought she could hear laughter. Suddenly, Lorne and a woman rolled across the bed. Lorne was fully clothed, his back towards Vikki. She could not see the woman’s face. Lorne was blocking her view. She did know the woman had black hair, and she was wearing a red dress. Lorne lowered his head to kiss the side of her neck revealing her identity. Vikki recognized her right away.

“
It’s that drunken Chrissie from Towercrest!” Vikki had forgotten where she was.

Lorne suddenly stopped kissing Chrissie’s neck, lifted his head and turned towards the window. As he moved off the bed, Vikki ducked low and stepped away. She found a hiding spot behind a vending machine under a nearby staircase. She crouched down out of sight as Lorne opened the door and walked out. He looked left and right before he slowly scanned the parking lot. He stood quietly for a moment, listening for any sound. Vikki’s heart was throbbing in her ears, and she was sure he would hear it.

“
No one out there,” Lorne said, as he closed the door.

Vikki was back in her car before she dared to take a breath. She had caught him with another woman, but Chrissie was not just any other woman. Vikki was livid. “First Eric and now Lorne!” She pounded the steering wheel. “Chrissie Andrews—that’s the second time you’ve done it to me! There won’t be a third time!”

Hell hath no fury.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Agendas

Craig Andrews was devastated. Jim Roberts’ suicide cost him not only a good friend but also his job. Two weeks after the funeral, letters from Jim’s lawyers arrived at the Victoria Crossing sales office. Everyone was given two weeks notice with no explanation. Craig figured Victoria Crossing had been sold to another developer. The new owner’s staff would replace them.