Chapter Eighteen
“Declare what?” Panic welled up in me as I felt myself cast off from him. My first thought was that his phone was beckoning again. If it was, I intended to follow through on my “feed the shark” plan.
“Crap!” he growled.
“Excuse me?”
He marched toward our rental car. “Son of a....”
“Kenny?” I started after him and heard a crunching sound with each sandaled step. I glanced down Tiny beads shimmered like diamonds in the faint moonlight.. And then I stared at the Toyota Corolla. The passenger side window was gone, shattered like my expectations for romance. Kenny Tolliver and I were never going to get it together. The heavens were determined to conspire against us. Our love was doomed.
“What in God’s name is going on?” Kenny demanded. It was the first time I’d ever seen him so flustered. “Damn it! There’s no way this is any kind of omen!”
“Omen?” Now he really had me worried. I’d never known him to be superstitious before. “What are you talking about?”
“Geez!” Even as he continued to spout, he pulled out his phone and punched the screen three times. “Yeah, my rental car was vandalized. No, we stopped at a restaurant for dinner and we found the damage when we came out to the parking lot.”
As I waited for him to give the police our location, I did a loop around the Toyota. On the driver’s side, there was a long, jagged gouge in the paint that ran the entire length of the car.
“That’s weird,” I mumbled.
“What’s weird?”
“I don’t think some addict broke into the car, looking for something to pawn. This is vandalism, plain and simple.”
Kenny took out his cell phone and turned on its flashlight, illuminating the big scar that now marred the perfect finish of the rental car. “Huh.”
“That’s all you’ve got? ‘Huh’?”
“Scarlet Wilson, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
I heard those words and glanced up at the man beside me. Was he having a stroke?
“Someone damages the car and you propose to me?”
“Oh, you’re right. This is not the time or the place. It’s just that I....”
Whoop-whoop! That was the moment when a swirl of pulsing blue light cut through the darkness, announcing the arrival of the Monroe County deputy.
“How did he get here so fast?” My head spun like a top. One minute, Kenny and I had been embracing under a starlit sky; the next, it all came crashing down, thanks to a brazen act of vandalism that made no sense at all. And then kismet struck again. Kenny proposed to me in a moment that left me dazed and confused. Was I in some parallel universe, yanked out of my body by a force unknown to man or woman?
As the driver pulled his vehicle into the parking lot, Kenny threw his long arm into the air and flagged him down. The SUV turned in our direction, bathing us in the brilliant white glow of high beams. I took one look at Kenny’s handsome face and I had second thoughts. What is wrong with you, Miz Scarlet? Any proposal is better than no proposal. It’s what you’ve dreamed of for years. This is your chance, woman! That door is open a crack. Go ahead and kick it in, before he changes his mind!
As the seconds ticked off and that vehicle crept closer, I was paralyzed by that old fear. What if Kenny decided that I could never measure up to Jillian? I didn’t want him to settle for second best if we got married. Do it. Do it. For God’s sake, just do it, Scarlet!
The image of the Googins girls popped into my head. I knew exactly what they would say when I got home to Cheswick and told them about the less-than-ideal moment when Kenny proposed.
“We were standing by the car’s shattered window and he blurted out, ‘Scarlet Wilson, will you do me the honor of marrying me?’ I was so shocked.”
“What did you say, dear?” My mother would give me that sweet, knowing smile of hers.
“I...I...I didn’t say anything,” I would stammer.
“You let him get away?” Horrified, my mother would take out one of her pristine white tissues and wave it in the air. “I give up!”
“You should have made him commit while you had him under your spell, Scarlet!” Lacey would announce in a voice dripping with disappointment, giving me that look of false pity that showed me no mercy. “A good man takes his cues from the woman he loves. Have you learned nothing from me?”
In my heart, I knew the two cousins would be right in their criticism. Over the last year and a half, I had let opportunity after opportunity slip away, telling myself it was all because the timing was wrong, or something came up unexpectedly. I didn’t want to admit I was terrified to commit myself to marriage, even though it was the one thing I craved. I was never going to hear the end of this mess if I didn’t act now. A bird in the hand was better than letting Kenny get away from me again.
“Did you just ask me to marry you?” I demanded breathlessly.
“Hold that thought, honey,” Kenny told me as he stepped towards the sheriff’s deputy, his hand outstretched. “Hi. Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
“No problem, sir. Why don’t you show me the damage?”
The two men huddled together for a good five minutes. After that, they began a search through the parking lot for other damaged vehicles. I reluctantly joined them, even though I was fairly sure that Kenny’s rental car was the only one damaged.
“Of all the rotten....”
We went row by row, circling each car, truck, and SUV in turn. I didn’t have a flashlight, so I had to peer closely at the windows and metal surfaces, searching for signs of damage.
Other restaurant patrons began to filter out into the parking lot, drawn like moths to the blue glow. It wasn’t long before there was a crowd gathered around the Toyota Corolla.
Still saddened by my failed attempt to get a repeat of the long-awaited proposal, I removed myself to the outskirts of the parking lot to sulk.
“What’s going on?” asked a voice behind me. Startled, I whirled around in time to see something black lunging at me. Someone adeptly belted a rough wool blanket around me, pinning my hands to my sides as I struggled to break free.
A moment later, I heard the sound of metal thumping. Pushed against the back of a pickup truck, I found myself hoisted up and yanked along the cold metal floor of the truck bed. One of my sandals fell away.
“What are you doing to me?” I wondered, my voice barely audible. My heart pounded in my chest, unable to comprehend what was happening.
The truck chassis gave a little bounce as someone jumped off. My muddled brain admitted I was in deep danger. It wasn’t the first time I was ever kidnapped, but that didn’t make it any less frightening. For a brief second, I considered taking my chances leaping off the back of the truck, but then I came to my senses. My only other option was to stand up and scream bloody murder. Surely someone would hear me. Why wasn’t Kenny looking for me?
Pushing myself along the bed of the truck, caterpillar-style, I wriggled into a sitting position. From there, I leaned against the side of the truck and got myself to my knees. And then, from deep in my gut, I used the self-defense growl that a safety instructor demonstrated during a rape awareness class at the high school where I taught.
“Awww-wahhhh!” I forced all of the air up and out of my diaphragm in a primitive roar that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Once it escaped my mouth, I listened for a response. At first, there was only silence. But then, a moment later, my prayers were answered.
“Hey, what’s that guy doing, Ray?”
“He’s stealing my truck! Hey, you! Get your hands off my truck!”
The engine suddenly sprung to life and the vehicle took off as the driver floored the accelerator. I pitched forward, hitting my head on the rear window, and then bounced backwards. When my full weight slammed against the tailgate, it held for all of two seconds and then it unexpectedly dropped. Out I went, like a sack of potatoes, unceremoniously dumped onto gravel as the driver sped away.<
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My back bore the brunt of the fall. When I finally stopped bouncing across the parking lot, I lay there, gasping for breath as my diaphragm suffered a spasm.
“Oh, my God, it’s a woman! Help her up!” I didn’t recognize the voice that spoke. “Easy. She might be injured.”
Someone touched me gently. “Okay, miss. I’m going to try to lift you to a sitting position. Are you ready?”
I had no way to respond to the question. I was still breathless, completely and utterly helpless in my wooly shroud. A hand cupped the back of my head. Another supported my elbow. As the belt was loosened around that nasty blanket, I heard a commotion.
“Let me through, damn it!” Kenny was coming. “Let...me...through! Scarlet, are you hurt?”
When my lungs finally filled with oxygen, I let out a long, painful groan and burst into tears, as much from the shock of being tossed off the back of that pickup as from my relief that I had survived my ordeal.
When the blanket was removed, and I had spit out the rough wool fibers that clung to my lips, I was enfolded in gentle arms that carefully lifted me to my feet.
“Honey?”
“Kenny, what is going on? That guy just tried to kidnap me!”
“He didn’t try, Scarlet. He succeeded. If you hadn’t fallen off the truck, God only knows what would have happened to you.”
“Ma’am, can you describe the suspect?”
“It was dark and all I saw was the blanket coming at me. Kenny, I think it was....”
“Hold on, Scarlet. Deputy, can I speak to you privately?”
The two men stepped away and formed a huddle ten yards away. A moment later, Kenny was back and the deputy was in his vehicle, talking to the dispatcher.
“Don’t worry. They’re going to check on our friend’s whereabouts. Now, how badly are you injured?”
“I don’t think anything’s broken,” I decided, still dismayed at this unfortunate turn of events. “I’m just banged up.”
“Should we call for an ambulance?”
After a quick check of my body parts, I decided that I could skip a trip to the ER. Kenny was hesitant.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He helped me into the passenger seat and carefully buckled me in, and then he took his place in the driver’s seat. Without a word, he reached over and gently squeezed my hand.
We drove back to the condo in silence. With my contusions throbbing, I was ready to tuck in for the night.
By nine, I was lying on our bed with an ice pack on my sore shoulder. When Kenny went downstairs to retrieve a bottle of wine, a corkscrew, and a couple of glasses, I stepped over to the mirror on the bathroom door, to examine the damage. Oddly enough, I was distracted by the backs of my legs. There were two round bruises about the size of quarters, one on each calf.
“Is something wrong?” he inquired, as he came into the bedroom.
“Look at my bruises. I think someone shot me, Kenny.”
“Shot you?” He gave me a quizzical look. “With bullets?”
“No, not with bullets; maybe with a slingshot.”
“A slingshot, Miz Scarlet?” There it was, the disbelief.
“Take a gander,” I instructed him. I stood up and turned my back to him, so he could see my legs. “See how uniform the bruises are?”
“Slingshot.” This time, when he said the word, he didn’t scoff. He took out his cell phone and snapped a photo of my bruises.
“Well? Am I right or am I right?”
“Where were you when you got hit?”
“I was about to cross the highway, just opposite of the gate to Angler’s Reef. Why?”
“Right across from the state park?”
“Yes.” I studied his expression, trying to discern his meaning. “Why is that important?”
“Hunting knife, hunting slingshot.”
“People hunt with slingshots?”
“Our killer apparently does,” he replied grimly. “I think I’d better get in touch with the Sheriff’s Department again. We may have a bigger problem on our hands than I realized.”
He was back ten minutes later. “They’re sending a couple of deputies over to talk with us. I’m really sorry about this.”
“It’s not your fault,” I told him. “You didn’t make it happen.”
“No, but I thought I was taking you away from the danger by bringing you down to the Keys. It never occurred to me the killer was here. I’d better call Max and Larry, to give them a heads-up.”
When the deputies arrived, Kenny brought them up to our bedroom, where we discussed the earlier incident, trying to tie together the loose threads of the case.
“The bad news is that your suspect, Jack Monaco, has an alibi for the time of the kidnapping,” the senior man announced.
“He does?” I was shocked by that news. “Are you sure?”
“He was at a sports bar with a group of friends, watching the basketball game,” the younger deputy, a woman, replied.
“Are you telling me we have no suspect? It could have been anyone?”
“No, Scarlet,” Kenny reassured me. “The killer is out there and he has to have a connection to Grimshaw’s murder.”
“How does that narrow down the list of suspects?”
“Well, for one thing, we know the killer had two different colored eyes,” he reminded me.
“Whoa, wait a minute. Are you serious?” Deputy Brown seemed rattled by the news.
“Is that a problem?” Kenny asked him.
“No...no,” he shook his head. “It’s just that, well....”
“Greg Monaco is well-liked around here,” Deputy Reiser explained.
I looked over at Deputy Brown. “Do you have a good picture of him? I’d like to see what he looks like.”
“Sure. Let me pull up his driver’s license.”
A few moments later, he opened the file and zoomed in on those eyes. I stared at them for the longest time, trying to decide whether they belonged to the killer. But I just couldn’t say that one word definitively.
“Scarlet?” Kenny put a hand on my shoulder.
“I just don’t know.” I shrugged. “It’s like those eyes I saw in the parking garage, but something’s off.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Off how?” Deputy Reiser pressed me.
“See the brown ring around the irises? The killer had those too, but these eyes have more green than brown.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Okay,” said the female deputy, jotting that down. “We’ll keep looking for our suspect. Just out of curiosity, were you able to estimate the killer’s age? Was he young, old, or middle-aged?”
“He was very athletic, as I recall. He ran like the wind and he managed to evade a number of cops who were hunting for him. But his age, that’s a tough one. He wore a balaclava. All I saw were the wonky eyes.”
“We’ll get in touch with the Hartford Police and see what they have.”
“I have a better idea,” Kenny told the two investigators, pulling out his cell phone to look up a number. “There’s a very experienced Connecticut State Trooper who’s the liaison for a new statewide law enforcement program that manages the information you’re seeking. Get in touch with her. Not only will she be able to keep you in the loop, if it turns out that our killer is down here in the Keys, she’ll be able to coordinate the cases. Why get the Hartford cops all worked up on this if it turns out there’s no connection?”
“You think we’ll have jurisdictional issues on this?”
“No, it’s not so much that. Laurencia Rivera has worked a lot of homicide cases. She’s quick on the uptake, she’s a stickler for the chain of evidence, and she plays nicely with others.”
“It would help to have cooperation on this,” Deputy Brown acknowledged.
“Larry will see that you get it. She doesn’t have a vested interest in who shines. She likes to close cases by putting the bad guys
away and she doesn’t play politics.”
“She also happens to be dating Kenny’s colleague at Mercer Security,” I added, just to seal the deal, “which means you’ll have a back door if you need to act discreetly while you’re developing your leads.”
“Miz Scarlet,” Kenny wagged his head in dismay, “I swear you’ve been hanging out with the wrong crowd for too long.”
“Is it the wrong crowd or right crowd?” I countered. “You say po-tay-to and I say pah-tat-o.”
“Whatever it is, it seems to have put you in harm’s way.”
“No, Kenny. I will remind you for the umpteenth time that I was minding my own business when I stumbled across C. Philip Grimshaw’s dead body in that parking garage.”
I suddenly realized why he wanted Larry to act as the liaison. He didn’t want the Hartford cops to gossip about the alleged “kill all the lawyers” threat I made as I was leaving the law offices of Martin, Dubinsky, and Moore that day. What a clever fellow.
“Did you have any problems in Connecticut, before you flew down to Florida?” the older deputy asked.
“No, I didn’t. But while he was trying to escape, the killer took a hostage and stole his car. The poor victim was left tied up in the killer’s car. He was lucky the cops didn’t shoot him, thinking he was the bad guy.”
“What kind of information did they turn up on the killer’s car?” Deputy Reiser wondered. I looked over at Kenny, curious about that myself.
“He rented the car with a stolen credit card and a fake driver’s license. His fingerprints aren’t in the national database.”
“That’s too bad.” Deputy Brown scratched the back of his head. “Is it possible he’s a professional killer?”
“Actually, we think the guy is an experienced hunter.” Kenny told them about the slingshot theory. I let the two investigators examine my bruises.
“Yeah, it could be slingshot ammo. Could be metal or glass balls, couldn’t it?” said the Florida lawman.
“Or even marbles,” his colleague added.
“Whoever it is, he’s good at covering up his own tracks,” Kenny pointed out. “And he seems to be one step ahead of us at every juncture.”
“It sounds like he launched his attack on you just as soon as he found out you two arrived down here. If those bruises were his handiwork, he must have wanted you to have a terrible accident, Ms. Wilson. And if he’s also behind the kidnapping tonight, he’s quick at setting things up.”
Miz Scarlet and the Acrimonious Attorney Page 16
