by Edwin Dasso
Brandon probably saved Mandy’s marriage and he completely protected my friend. From the way I behaved about his affair, which he claimed never happened, he must figure that I’d never forgive Mandy for even thinking about cheating on Max. Even after I mentioned the illegal parking, he didn’t jump at the opportunity to explain he hadn’t parked there. “Well, he’s kept his promise.”
“Tori, I wanted to tell you, but after you kicked out Brandon for having an affair, I feared it would ruin our friendship.” With sad, tear filled eyes, Mandy asked, “Are we still friends?”
Tori squeezed Mandy’s hand. “Yes. And I’m glad that you told me.” The doctored picture of Brandon with a blonde bounced into her head. “I’m starting to think I might’ve overreacted when I thought Brandon was having an affair.”
“I wish you’d give Brandon a second chance. I don’t know if he had an affair or didn’t, but I do know that he still loves you.”
“Mandy, promise me you won’t tell anyone about tonight’s problem. Just say we couldn’t find the place. I hate the thought of being used as bait to hook Brandon into returning to the States.”
“But you’re in danger, and it’s all because of me.”
“No, it’s because Fackrell is a nut case. That accident happened on a four-lane street. Fackrell’s wife was drunk and driving out of control. I saw Brandon’s mangled car. Had you or Brandon been in it, you could’ve met the same fate as Mrs. Fackrell. She swung onto the sidewalk before she crashed into his car. It’s lucky no one was close by.”
“Okay. I promise.” A soft smile crossed Mandy’s face as she picked up her empty glass. “And maybe a few more of these might help me forgot the whole chase.”
Tori returned her smile. “That can be arranged.” She flagged the barmaid.
8
Early Saturday morning, a loud thud startled Tori awake in the dark bedroom. She flipped on the light, sat up in bed, and listened for any unusual sound. Only hearing the humming of the fridge, she wondered if the noise was just part of her dream as last night’s chase streamed through her head. Hesitantly, she stepped into her slippers and grabbed her robe from the nearby chair. Slipping it on, she glanced around the room for anything she could use as a weapon. Her eyes fixed on the metal lamp standing on the other nightstand. She unplugged it, gripped it in her fist, and opened the bedroom door. Cautiously, Tori peered out into the dark hallway, quietly crept into it, and made her way to the light switch. Tori clicked it on. Her eyes swept around.
With her ears on high alert, she moved toward the living room and began to turn on every lamp. Switching on the desk lamp, she saw it—a long white box like the prior floral box that had been left outside Brandon’s door. She bit her bottom lip and carefully raised the lid. Inside was a black rose, but unlike the last one she received, lying on top of it was a note. Each word had been cut out of a magazine and glued to the page. It read: “Had you slowed down, I could have showed you a great time.”
Flinching, she closed the lid and backed away from the box. Tori hurried to the alarm system. A red light glowed in the corner of the panel, indicating it was still set. How is that possible? She figured someone had to have entered, disarmed it, and set it again when they left. Had I slept so soundly that I didn’t hear it beep when the door opened? She tapped on the alarm panel to see who had disarmed it—no image appeared. She noted it happened almost an hour earlier. Besides me, who else has Brandon’s code?
Tori had the urge to call Brandon to ask him, but doubted he’d stay put in England if he learned someone had entered his apartment while she slept. Considering the apartment building’s hallway surveillance camera on her floor had been hacked and the footage that showed the delivery of the last black rose was missing, she figured the skilled hacker would’ve also tampered with the surveillance camera during the current delivery. Still, she called the front desk.
Jerry answered in a cheerful voice. “Hello, Mrs. Burgess,”
“Jerry, can you check the surveillance camera recording and see if someone has approached my door?” Tori didn’t want to tell him more, thinking he would mention a break-in to Charlie. Since Charlie and Brandon had become friends, she wouldn’t be able to prevent Brandon from hearing about it. She assumed Fackrell or one of his comrades was responsible for delivering the rose. How did Fackrell bypass the building security, unlock Brandon’s door, and disarm his system? And the chase? Why is he doing it now and not before Brandon left town or why doesn’t he wait for him to return?
“Did you receive another package?”
“No. I heard the door handle rattling. So, I’m just checking.”
“I’ll look at the recording and call you back.”
“Thanks, Jerry.”
Tori thought about moving back into her house once the second floor was ready for occupancy. In the meantime, she’d lock her bedroom door at night and buy a bell to slip on the entrance door. Maybe hearing it ringing, would make any would-be intruder take off. She tried to come up with a plausible explanation to give Brandon that would justify moving out of his place before all the work at the house was finished. While she mulled it over, her phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen and answered it. “Jerry, did you catch anything?”
“Not at your door, but a person wearing a black hoodie did step out of the elevator on your floor. After that, no one is picked up by the surveillance camera.”
“I’d like to see those frames. Can you show them to me if I come down in a few minutes?”
“Certainly, Mrs. Burgess.”
Within ten minutes, Tori left the apartment, waited for the elevator, and glanced at her watch—5:30 a.m. Suddenly, she sensed someone behind her and swung around just in time to see a blur of a person entering the apartment next to Brandon’s. Who lives in that apartment? She hadn’t heard a sound in the hallway. No opening or closing of the stairwell door. Where had the neighbor been?
The elevator made a soft beep as it stopped on her floor.
Wondering about the neighbor, she stepped in and pushed the button to the lobby.
After Tori and Jerry greeted each other, he gestured for her to come around the counter. “I’ve got it paused on the person.”
Tori stared at the screen. The person appeared to be around her height, 5’7” and slender. From the description Brandon had given her of Fackrell—six-feet tall with a husky build—she knew he wasn’t the individual on the screen. With that person’s bent head, Tori had no idea if it was a man or woman, but based on the person’s physique, she assumed it was a woman. Had Fackrell recruited a woman to help him? Or did that person have nothing to do with the black rose? Or did the black rose have nothing to do with Fackrell? But from the note in the box, Tori knew it came from one of the people who had chased her. She couldn’t imagine that she and Brandon had gained two enemies with different scenarios going after them at the same time. “Does the person look at all familiar to you?” she asked Jerry.
“Not off hand, but except for a few guests who I recognize, no one has entered the building who isn’t a resident. Quite a few people go to the workout room in the basement and take either the stairs or the elevator back to their floor.”
“Can you run the recording so I can see something after this frame?”
He nodded and pushed a button. An empty hallway appeared on the screen.
Squinting, Tori asked. “Why doesn’t the recording show anything more than the person getting off the elevator?”
Jerry shrugged. “Something must be wrong with that surveillance camera. I’ll talk to Charlie about it when he comes in. Is there anything else I can help you with, Mrs. Burgess?”
“No. That was it.” She moved around the counter and then recalled the neighbor. “Oh, who lives in the apartment next to Brandon’s?
Jerry tapped on the computer. “Which apartment—1114 or 1118?”
“Eleven-eighteen.”
“That apartment is currently vacant. The couple that’s leased it are i
n Asia and won’t be moving in until next month.”
“Well I saw someone going into that apartment while I was waiting for the elevator.”
Jerry’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure it was that apartment?”
“Yes.”
He clicked a few times on the keyboard. “The surveillance camera didn’t capture you waiting for the elevator or anyone entering that apartment. I’ll have the security guard check out apartment 1118.” Jerry picked up the phone.
While he talked to the guard, Tori took the elevator back to her floor as she continued thinking about the vacant apartment. Whoever was staying there knew how to pick locks and probably also knew how to disarm security systems since most of the apartments had one. Several questions buzzed through her mind, but two stood out. How did that person know the lessees were out of the country? And how did he or she enter the building? Maybe the fire escape?
Back in Brandon’s apartment, Tori climbed into bed and attempted to go back to sleep. Questions kept popping into her head, so she knew it was a futile effort to get more sleep and headed to the kitchen. While she sipped on a cup of freshly brewed coffee, she read over the note in the box again. What did he mean by “great time”? Maybe he’s sadistic and enjoys inflicting pain and calls that a “great time”. Then Tori wondered if she had made a wrong assumption. The car or truck driver could’ve been a woman. In fact, both drivers could have been women. The young clerk at the flower shop had referred to the black rose purchaser as a man. Even if Fackrell hadn’t personally delivered the black roses, she was convinced he was behind the scheme.
A door outside Brandon’s apartment slammed shut.
Thinking the security guard might be or had been checking out the next apartment, Tori edged open her door and saw a security guard talking into a device. From the few words she caught, the apartment was empty.
She closed that door and went to Brandon’s balcony. She unlocked the sliding door and stepped out. Scanning that side of the building, she determined that with the aid of a rope, a skilled climber could make it down to a lower balcony and continue on to the next balcony until the intruder reached the ground. Is that how the person escaped? With the potential of the intruder being spotted along the way, the less that escape route made sense to her. Tori figured the intruder probably left through the hallway door before the guard showed up. If that person delivered the rose, there’d be no reason to hang around on her floor. Since the intruder might be of interest to the investigator, she decided to call him after he texted her a picture of the clean-shaven Fackrell.
Knowing how fussy Brandon was about his cars, she thought maybe his trusted mechanic might be able to give her the name of a good reputable body shop. While waiting for the investigator’s text, she searched Brandon’s desk for the mechanic’s phone number. She found his business card in the top drawer and placed the call.
When he came on the line, she said, “Hi, Neil. This is Tori, Brandon’s ex-wife.”
“Hello, Tori. Are you having a car problem?”
“No. Brandon is out of town and I accidently backed his Porsche into a pole. Can you recommend an auto body shop where I could get it fixed?”
“There’s a shop next door—K&B Auto Body Shop. Brandon’s had them do some work on his BMW.”
“Thanks, Neil.”
“Glad I could help. Goodbye, Tori.”
After disconnecting, Tori looked up the address of the body shop and jotted it down. She hated the thought of driving Brandon’s Porsche again, but couldn’t avoid it. She hoped the estimate would be within her budget.
As she anxiously continued waiting for the text, she clicked on her computer and searched the web for Stella Fackrell’s accident. Tori thought there was a chance that Rob Fackrell’s place of employment might be included in the write up. Staring at Stella’s picture, Tori recalled the first time she read the article and had speculated about why the woman would’ve driven in her intoxicated condition. Her husband claimed she left home to run some errands and hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol before she went. Where she had gone after leaving home wasn’t listed. Rob Fackrell had worked late that night and was notified of his wife’s accident at his shop. No mention of the shop name.
Feeling disappointed, Tori’s eyes moved to the time on her computer—1:36 p.m. Still, no text from Trent Rice. Anxious to see Fackrell’s picture, she called the investigator. After three rings, a voice came on the line, “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”
Tori compared that number to the one she had reached him on previously, thinking she had picked up a wrong digit. The numbers matched perfectly.
Confused, she tapped on her computer again and Googled Trent Rice. She smiled when she discovered a Trent Rice who worked for an investigation company was among the list. Tori placed a called to the company. A stilted answering machine voice came on line and stated office hours, followed by an emergency number. Tori was tempted to dial that number, but couldn’t justify securing Fackrell’s picture fell into an emergency category. Irritated that she wouldn’t be able to reach Rice before Monday, she put away her laptop.
Tori mulled over Rice’s cell phone. No longer in service. Why would any investigator allow that to happen? Tori couldn’t imagine anyone who relied on their phone for business not finding some way to keep it active—borrowing money on a credit card or from a family member or friend. Maybe it wasn’t out of service because he couldn’t pay the bill. Maybe it had been damaged. Could Trent Rice have been in some kind of accident?
9
As Tori drove Brandon’s Porsche toward the recommended body shop, she worried about the investigator. Assuming Fackrell had been the driver of either the car or the truck, she had seen first-hand how well he managed anger. If Fackrell had heard about the investigation and he didn’t like anyone snooping into his business, how would he handle the investigator? She briefly thought about calling around to hospitals, but then figured her nerves were still on edge from last night’s ordeal. Rice might’ve received crank calls, similar to the heavy breathing calls she had received, and decided it was time to get a new number. If that was the case, he might call or text her later.
She spotted the K&B Auto Body sign attached to a building and turned into the parking area in front of the entrance. As Tori climbed out of the Porsche, a short muscular man, wearing a paint-stained pair of coveralls, approached her.
“Hello,” Tori said with a smile. “I accidently hit the edge of a guardrail and dented my back bumper.” Mentioning the car belonged to Brandon might require his permission to have it repaired, something she wanted to avoid.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He walked to the back of the Porsche, leaned down, and examined the damage. Standing up, he said, “You can wait inside while I put together an estimate.”
“It’s such a nice day, I’ll wait out here.”
“Suit yourself.”
While she waited, Tori noticed some of the guys working on cars, stopped to looked in her direction. She wasn’t sure if they were checking out her or the Porsche. Since she should’ve called Brandon about his car, Tori didn’t want any more attention drawn to her than absolutely necessary to get it fixed and hoped the men were eyeing the Porsche and not her.
Within ten minutes, the short man returned. “Here you go.” He handed Tori a copy of the estimate.
Her eyes popped wide open when she saw the total cost. She swallowed hard. “Do you…do you take Visa?”
He nodded. “The parts could take a couple of weeks to come in. I’ll need a deposit.”
Still having a hard time grasping that a whole new bumper would be required to fix the small damage the Porsche had sustained in the chase, she pulled out her credit card as though the cost wasn’t a financial problem. “Here,” she said, plastering a smile on her face.
“You’ll have to sign the receipt and I’ll need your information,” he said, directing her to the shop office. While he ran her credit card, Tori filled out a form
—her name, address, phone number, type of vehicle, and license plate number.
“I’ll contact you when the parts arrive.” He handed her his business card and a copy of the receipt.
Feeling numb that the repair would almost max out her credit card, Tori slipped back into the Porsche. As she drove away, Tori saw Neil standing outside his repair shop. Over the years, Brandon and Neil had become good friends. Will Neil call Brandon about his car? Tori wished that she had asked Neil to not tell Brandon about the dented bumper. But since she was an ex-wife, that could cause Neil to doubt that she had Brandon’s permission to drive his car. So, telling him not to say anything to Brandon might spur Neil into making the call.
The minute she entered the apartment, Tori went straight to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of wine, and filled a goblet. She flopped down on the couch and took a big swig as the cost to repair Brandon’s Porsche consumed her mind. In addition to making the mortgage payments on the house Brandon had insisted she receive in the divorce, he had also wanted to pay alimony. She wanted her independence and refused those payments. She made a living wage working for the gallery, but maxing out her credit card would leave her nothing in reserve if she encountered an unexpected large expense. Yet, she was well aware that Brandon would always help her out. Since she no longer was sure that he had cheated on her, she couldn’t lean on the potentially innocent man if she screwed up her finances, like she more than likely did to their marriage. I certainly wasn’t the perfect wife, but maybe I can be a good ex-wife. She resolved to keep Brandon safe in England even if it ended up being a financial struggle. The car chase had to remain a guarded secret between Mandy and her.
