Dangerous & Deadly- The Nick Myers Series

by Tanya R. Taylor

  Lisa handed the phone to Tim.

  “So, how are things at school?” Victor asked after the initial greetings.

  “Okay, I guess,” Tim answered dryly. “Some of the kids have been jerks since this whole thing started, but they don’t bother me. I don’t care what they think. I know you’re innocent and it’s gonna be proven in court.”

  “That’s the spirit, Son,” Victor returned. “I’ve been trying to convince your sister of the same thing. You have to be there for her, okay? You two have to look out for each other now.”

  “You know we will, Dad.”

  “Yeah, I know. Look, Timmy, I’ve got to go now. I’m surprised they allowed me to stay on the phone this long. Say hello to Joe for me, will you?”

  “Sure Dad. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Son.”

  After speaking with his father, Tim was unsure how to feel. He had sensed that his father was barely making it through the confinement of prison and he felt totally helpless. Betty held both children closely and Joe joined in.

  “Everything’s gonna be just fine,” Joe said.

  “You really think so, Uncle Joe?” Tim asked.

  “Sure, I do. There’s no jury in the county that would convict your father. His lawyer is gonna clear everything up. You’ll see.”

  “And how is he going to do that?” Tim posed, a rage suddenly building. “By presenting the sworn testimony of his children that he was at home during the night of the murders? They don’t believe that now, so judge then! We already found out that it was Dad’s gun they found, remember? Although he says he wasn’t the one that fired it, who would believe a story like that? His fingerprints were all over it!”

  “Stop it, Tim! You’re talking like you think Dad is guilty,” Lisa charged. “What’s all that talk you've been doing with him about his innocence being proven in court? You don‘t sound very confident at all.”

  “That’s because I’m not!” Tim roared. “I lied to him just like he lied to me!”

  The room stood in silence. No one could believe their ears.

  “Are you saying you doubt your father’s innocence, Timmy?” Betty asked.

  Tim turned away and paced the floor. “No, I’m not saying that. What I meant is that although Dad’s trying to make us believe that everything's gonna go fine with the case, if there’s no real proof of his innocence, he’s gonna get buried alive in that courtroom! I’ve watched enough documentaries to know that.” He sighed. “Look, I know Dad is innocent. He wouldn’t have murdered Mr. and Mrs. Guillespe for all the money in the world, but I’m just wondering how could anybody convince a jury of that? I hate to sound so negative, but…”

  “And yes, you are being negative, Tim,” Betty interjected. “We are a family - a strong family. We have to believe without a doubt in our hearts that our family won’t be torn apart by this. Didn’t your father encourage you to be positive?”

  Tim nodded.

  “Then that is how we have to be - not just for ourselves, but for him,” Betty added. “Believe me, your father will be vindicated.”

  Just then, Tim turned to his aunt with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Aunt Bee. I'm sorry about what I said.”

  “It's okay, darling. I know exactly how you feel.” She hugged him tightly and Lisa joined in.

  TWENTY-THREE

  The damage done to Victor Emerson’s reputation by means of the media seemed almost irreversible. News of his alleged guilt swept throughout the city and state. They painted him as a money-hungry, cold-blooded killer who had duped everyone by means of his philanthropy and high-society events over the years. Talk of his colossal inheritance quickly persuaded people in the direction of his culpability. Some even rallied to have him executed without a trial for the brutal murders of the people who obviously adored him.

  Betty struggled to combat the cloud of depression that had also attached itself to her. In spite of everything, she continued in her usual routine at work and at home – never even slightly revealing to anyone the depth of her despair. She deemed the façade necessary for the upkeep of her family.

  After exiting the deli with a bagged club sandwich in hand, she walked down the busy sidewalk toward the intersection when she noticed a man who looked somewhat familiar to her. He was being wheeled by a tall, slender woman, who she definitely did not recognize. They were heading up the walk in the opposite direction and as they all approached each other, Betty gazed into the man’s dark eyes which possessed such intensity that by mere reflex she almost reached out and touched him.

  The woman wheeling him had noticed Betty’s demeanor and asked, “Is there something the matter, Ma’am?”

  Betty could not find her voice. She shook her head and scrambled through the crowd, glancing back a few times until the couple was completely out of sight.

  * * * *

  The following morning, Betty drove the kids home to collect some more clothing and a few other necessities.

  Standing inside the huge, empty house, she instantly felt an air of sadness. She decided to browse around while Tim and Lisa dashed upstairs for their belongings. As she strolled about the main floor, she paid close attention to each room’s disposition. The means by which the intruder had repeatedly gotten inside bewildered her. She stood in the kitchen perplexed, her mind overloaded and congested. Then minutes later, as she returned to the living room, the kids were descending the stairway.

  “We’re ready, Aunt Bee,” Tim said with a duffle bag across his shoulder. Lisa followed closely behind with hers.

  “That was quick,” Betty remarked, following them out the door when suddenly, she stopped. “Oh, I forgot to check the answering machine.” She turned back to check it and immediately noticed that it was unplugged. As she pushed the plug into the socket, the telephone rang.

  “Emerson’s residence,” she said, watching the machine light up.

  “Hello. Is Lisa there?”

  Betty looked at Lisa who slowly made her way back inside the house. “It’s for you,” she said. “It’s a man.”

  Lisa took the phone, clearly perceiving her aunt’s curiosity. “Hello,” she answered quietly as the spectators stood there watching her; Tim with a good idea of who the caller was.

  “Oh, hi, David,” she continued, feeling quite uneasy since her aunt’s ethics varied very little from her father’s. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to call you back later. I was just on my way out.” And moments later, she hung up the phone and turned to leave.

  “Who was that?” Betty asked.

  “Just a friend,” Lisa replied curtly.

  “How old is he? He sounded at least thirty.”

  “He’s actually sixteen. He just sounds older,” Lisa replied, avoiding eye contact. She then hurried out the door ahead of them.

  Tim and Lisa spent most of the day running errands with their uncle. Betty, on the other hand, relaxed by the pool reading a book - in between lines, thinking of the man she had seen the day before.

  She caught her mind shifting back to a time where grave secrets had been buried in the moment. Now it was not only Victor she constantly worried about, but also the secret she now regretted ever keeping from him. If she could only speak with the man in the wheelchair, tell him how sorry she was and convince him to believe her. Yes! If only she could somehow convince him to believe her. However, remembering the look in his eyes that did not appear to be very inviting suddenly dashed her hopes. The familiar stranger’s hardened face had depicted numerous untold stories and Betty bore an overwhelming sensation within her gut that it was all her fault.

  Amidst the incessant mind-badgering crept a sharp needle-like pain deep inside her head. Her hands began to quiver and the book she was holding fell to the floor. Her head thumped violently and she felt her lungs tightening. Suddenly, with no air left to breathe, her head jerked backwards against the chair, tilted slightly to the side and stillness prevailed.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Charles Martinez waited
as Victor was being escorted in handcuffs for the visit. Just before the door opened, Martinez shifted from the window he had been staring out of and offered Victor a seat in one of the two chairs in front of him.

  “How are you doing, Victor?” He asked, notably concerned.

  “Guess I’m surviving,” Victor replied with a tinge of frustration. “I never imagined I’d be here, Charles. You’ve got to get me out of here.”

  Martinez sat at the table facing him. “Victor, I don’t quite know how to say this, but I got a call from the DA this morning. They’re thinking of charging you with at least two more counts of murder. The judge won’t grant bail.”

  “What?!” Victor was flabbergasted.

  “They think you might be the serial killer,” Martinez said.

  “No! No! No! They’re not going to pin those murders on me too!” Victor violently backed out of his chair and started pacing the floor. The guard looked in, but did not make a move.

  “Victor, you have my word that I will fight this with everything I’ve got. They haven’t filed those charges yet. I’ll be speaking with the DA later today for an update. In the meanwhile, just keep hanging in there, bud.” He stood up and patted him on the shoulder. Victor was holding his head in disbelief.

  * * * *

  Victor slumped onto the lower bunk of his cell.

  “So what happened out there?” Asked Eddie who had gradually warmed up to him. A man about his fifties, Eddie was as blind as a bat without his glasses. He had been convicted of the strangling death of his girlfriend outside of a nightclub twenty years earlier.

  “They're trying to get me for the serial-killings,” Victor said, deeply perturbed.

  Eddie hopped down from his bunk. “What? They’re calling you a serial-killer now?”

  “Yup. Just when I was beginning to think that things couldn’t get any worse,” Victor added.

  “Oh, that’s hell, man. That’s rough. But what you’ve got to do is stand your ground no matter what. Half the time the cops just wanna arrest someone for crimes they can’t solve and if they could pile enough dirt on you, they would,” Eddie said.

  “But pinning the wrong man for murder would be stupid, especially if the killings haven’t stopped,” Victor surmised.

  “But suppose they have?” Eddie posed. “You said you were being set-up right?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “Well, suppose in your case, the killings have stopped. Suppose the real killer’s put a lid on it since they’ve already got you. Like that, you’ll look guilty as hell. But don’t you worry, the Lord’s gonna work something out for you. Everything’s gonna be just fine; you watch.”

  “I hate to sound pessimistic, Eddie, but it’s not looking so good. I promised my kids that everything would work out, but I don’t know that for sure, especially now.” Victor sat up and wiped his brow. “Will I ever get out of here? I guess the real question is… would I ever get my life back?”

  “I know how you feel, man, but no matter how bad it looks right now, you’ll pull through it. I’m guilty as sin of the crime I’ve been convicted of and as much as this place stinks, I deserve to be here. But if you are truly innocent of the crimes they’re accusing you of, The Lord will make a way for you to walk right on outta here as free as a bird and hopefully – soon. He’s got a plan, man. Believe that.”

  Victor stretched out on the bunk again afraid to absorb his cell-mate’s optimism. But he knew he had to believe the best, if only for the sake of his children.

  * * * *

  The house was eerily quiet when Joe and the kids arrived home that evening. Joe had managed to get in touch with the wild child inside again and went to extremes to ensure that the kids had a fun time together in spite of everything going on around them. They were all eager to tell Betty about the day’s events, but after going through the house in search of her and not finding her anywhere, their enthusiasm was slowly dwindling.

  “There she is!” Tim pointed towards the pool deck. “She’s just sleeping.”

  Joe rushed over to her. “Strange. Betty never sleeps in the daytime. The amount of coffee she drinks simply wouldn’t allow her to. Something’s wrong.” He knelt beside her and gently slapped her face. “Honey, wake up!” He demanded, but Betty did not respond.

  Looking closely, he noticed dried-up foam beneath her lips and chin. “Oh, my God!” he said, placing his fingers on her neck and feeling for a pulse. “We have to get her to the hospital now!”

  Joe scooped his wife into his arms and hurried to the car. Lisa grabbed the car-keys from the counter and rushed ahead of him to open the back door of the vehicle. Soon, they were on their way to the hospital.

  As the nurses wheeled Betty into the Emergency Room, the family looked on worriedly. Betty was unconscious and they had no idea why. Joe paced around the waiting area as Lisa and Tim sat together watching him.

  “It’s probably all that damn coffee she drinks,” Joe snarled. “I should have stopped that nonsense years ago.”

  “Uncle Joe, we don’t know if what happened to Aunt Bee had anything to do with coffee, and if it did, how could you have stopped her from drinking it?” Tim asked, hoping to save his uncle from self reproach.

  “I could have made sure the cupboards were empty of it - that’s what I could have done.”

  “While she probably drank double the amount at work?” Tim said. “Uncle Joe, it probably has nothing to do with her drinking caffeine.”

  “Yeah, it might be because of something worse,” Lisa sobbed. “What else could go wrong? Our lives are falling apart all at once!”

  Joe went over to her, momentarily forgetting his own pain. He sat beside her and held her closely. “Don’t worry, honey. Nothing else is gonna go wrong; I promise.” Joe was just as nervous as they were. He could not imagine life without Betty; she meant everything to him.

  Some time later, a young nurse exited the room where they had wheeled Betty, and Joe immediately stood up and approached her. “Excuse me, my wife’s in there. How is she?” He asked, walking with her.

  “The doctor will be out to speak with you shortly,” the nurse responded before continuing on along the hallway.

  A few minutes later, a man in white attire approached Joe.

  “Mr. Scholl,” he extended a hand, “I’m Doctor Ridges."

  “How's my wife, Doc?” Joe eagerly met his hand.

  “She’s stable now, but it appears she suffered a mild stroke. Her blood pressure reading was extremely high when you brought her in, but we’re giving her meds in order to lower it. Has your wife been under a lot of pressure lately, Mr. Scholl?”

  “Well, yeah. We’ve had a few personal problems that I know she’s been worrying herself sick about,” Joe affirmed.

  “Has she previously been diagnosed with Hypertension?”

  “No, Doc - not to my knowledge. She’s always been in great health,” Joe responded.

  “Well, we’re going to have to keep her here for observation and run a few additional tests until we’re satisfied that her blood pressure is under control,” Ridges explained.

  “Whatever is best for her,” Joe quickly conceded.

  “She’s sleeping now, but you can go in and see her for a few minutes after they’ve wheeled her into the other room.”

  “Thanks Doc. I really appreciate it.”

  “Oh, and another thing…” Ridges started, “…the meds are going to keep her pretty groggy for most of the night, so just in case you were considering staying here with her, I would really advise you against it. We want to keep her as relaxed as possible.”

  “Sure, Doc. I understand,” Joe said quickly.

  Betty was wheeled into a private room where Joe, Tim and Lisa subsequently visited her. Lisa was moved to tears by the sight of her aunt lying there helplessly. Tim comforted his sister as Joe sat at Betty’s bedside and held his wife’s hand. Even as she lay sleeping, Joe saw the same grimace on her face he had noticed when they had found her by the pool.
>
  “This whole thing with Dad’s really getting to her,” Tim whispered, feeling very sorry for his aunt, even a little more than he pitied himself.

  “Yeah, but what more can you expect?” Joe said quietly. “The man is her heart string. I’ve never in all my years seen a closer sibling relationship than theirs.”

  They remained with Betty for twenty minutes before a nurse walked in to conduct another pressure check. Shortly thereafter, they decided to leave so that Betty would continue to rest peacefully as the doctor suggested. As they headed for the exit in a much better mood than when they first arrived, they were all very grateful for the way things worked out - knowing that the situation could have turned out much differently.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  When Joe arrived at the hospital the following morning after dropping Tim and Lisa off to school, he was delighted to see Betty wide awake and eating breakfast in bed.

  “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?” He leaned over and kissed her, then sat in the chair next to her bed.

  “As strong as an ox!” She smiled.

  “You gave us quite a scare yesterday. Doc said you’ve got to take it easy.”

  “I was taking it easy,” she replied. “So the kids are at school?”

  “Yeah. They didn’t wanna go at first because - you know - they wanted to be here with you. So after I made a call and checked on your condition, I was able to convince them that you were doing just fine and you wouldn’t want them to miss school,” Joe said.

  “You did the right thing, honey. Want some of my breakfast?” Betty asked.

  “No, thanks. I’m not hungry. Besides, I’d rather sit here and watch you eat. You’re just so damn beautiful.”

  Betty blushed like a bashful teenager. She just imagined how frightened he must have been when he thought he had lost her.

  A half-hour later, the morning newscast aired on television and in seconds, they were both looking up at the screen in awe.