Gossip (Desire Never Dies)

by Clara Grace Walker

  “No?”

  Again, he conferred in hushed tones with Roger Sheldon before speaking. “Of course not.” He uncrossed his arms and held his hands up in front of him. “I’ve been divorced from the woman for almost twenty years. I mean, I might understand you questioning me if she’d gone missing during our divorce. But really, what possible motive could I have for being involved in her disappearance now?”

  “Maybe you don’t want us to know about your connection to D-bag’s drug source.”

  “Drug source?” The man barely got the words out and exchanged furious whispers with his attorney. “I don’t know anything about drugs. I’ve told you that a thousand times already.”

  “You can spare me the denials, Mr. Arnold. Pearl’s husband has already admitted to supplying D-bag with the methadone. Same stuff that ended up in both Janelle Tyler-Beck and Patrice McKenzie, I’m guessing.”

  The guy’s face turned red with rage. “What the hell has that got to do with me?”

  “Your ex-wife’s husband was supplying one of your employees with drugs. How could you not know about it?”

  “I didn’t even know Pearl or Ken knew the guy!” He screamed, pounded the table, and was quickly silenced by something whispered to him by his attorney. “That’s news to me,” he said a moment later, calmly this time. “D-bag showed up at the studio one day, shortly after we opened, looking for work. He was willing to do the work cheaply, so I hired him. But I didn’t do the day-to-day running of the studio. Rod Skinner did that. And I sure as hell didn’t know anything about him knowing Pearl or getting drugs from her husband. So once again, what reason would I have to make Pearl go missing?”

  She briefly considered telling him Rod Skinner had already spilled the beans about his insistence on employing D-bag as a ‘favor’ to someone, but decided to keep that information to herself for now. “Perhaps you were concerned Pearl might corroborate your daughter’s allegations of sexual abuse.”

  “That’s a lie!” He jumped and shouted the denial before Roger Sheldon could stop him.

  Sarge enjoyed watching his easy-going demeanor crack and crumble like a day-old cookie. She’d been waiting for the perfect moment to spring that little detail on him.

  “I’ll remind you my client’s here voluntarily,” Roger Sheldon said, before turning to Peter and giving him a sharp look.

  Peter squirmed in his seat. “I don’t know why Darla would spout such lies. After the way I doted on her. Gave her everything. She wasn’t even mine, you know.”

  Sarge raised an eyebrow, pretending to find the news a surprise. Like most criminals, he didn’t seem to appreciate when he was telling on himself. “I guess if Darla wasn’t your biological child that might explain why you didn’t feel it was wrong to have sex with her.”

  “Exactly.” Peter nodded his agreement.

  “That’s not an admission of guilt on my client’s part,” Roger Sheldon offered, then leveled another sharp look in Peter’s direction.

  “Right,” Peter said. “Not that I’m saying I did, just that it would have been okay if I had.”

  “Spare me the bullshit, Arnold.” Sarge forced the bile back down her throat. “Whether you were her biological parent or not, that girl looked upon you as her father, and you violated her in the sickest way possible. Not to mention she was only fifteen-years-old when you did it.”

  “Now you wait just a minute!” Peter yelled. “I never admitted to having sex with her!”

  “You may not have admitted it, but you certainly did do it.”

  Roger Sheldon stood. “I think we’re done here.”

  Peter, however, made no move to leave. He sat there, red-faced, as if contemplating his next denial. Sarge watched him, never taking her eyes off his, waiting for the bastard to cough up a bit more information.

  Finally, he cleared his throat. “I’m not going to sit here arguing with you about what I did or didn’t do with Darla. I guess we’ll have to leave the ungrateful brat to try and prove her case in a court of law.”

  Sarge shrugged. “Suit yourself. I can’t think of any reason a jury wouldn’t accept the word of a self-confessed child molester over the word of his victim, can you?”

  “My client has never confessed to anything.”

  Peter glared at her in response, still not taking his lawyer’s hints he should shut up, so she pressed on. Tapping the copy of his divorce settlement with Pearl Arnold Watson, she leveled another probing stare in his direction. “Guess this paltry divorce settlement makes more sense, given Darla’s questionable paternity. What’d you do? Threaten to expose the truth if she fought you for more money?”

  Peter shrugged. “No crime in that. Damn bitch was lucky to get a dime from me after the way she played me for a fool.”

  Sarge remained silent, and like so many criminals before him, Peter Arnold felt the need to fill the quiet space. “Can you imagine the nerve of that woman? I gave her everything. Everything! And how does she repay me? By sleeping with our gardener and pawning his kid off on me. Our gardener of all people! She made a fucking laughing stock out of me among our friends.”

  She nodded, speaking calmly. “And twenty years later, you finally got your chance to pay her back, didn’t you?”

  “I did not kill the bitch!” He pounded her desk with his fists, rattling her picture of Trixie.

  This time, Roger Sheldon physically restrained him. “Is my client being charged in the disappearance of Pearl Watson?”

  Sarge shook her head. “Not at this time.”

  “Then we’re leaving.”

  “Where is Darla?” Peter asked. “Just tell me where she is, and I’ll get this whole thing straightened out right now.”

  Sarge laughed. The guy had balls the size of Texas. “I’m not in the habit of telling perpetrators where they can go find their victims, Arnold. Besides, your daughter’s left town.”

  “She did?” He sounded puzzled by this. “Where did she go?”

  “None of your damn business.”

  “You don’t have to be so fucking rude, you know.”

  “No,” she agreed. “But sometimes I just like to be.” She got up from her desk and stuck her head out the door. “Sanchez, you can escort Mr. Arnold and his lawyer out of here. We’re done for now.”

  Sanchez showed up with his partner, and waited until Peter Arnold and his attorney were out of earshot. “We got a line on that silver Rolls,” he said.

  Sarge raised an eyebrow. “And?”

  “Just like that reporter suspected. Silver one in Georgia. It’s registered to Marianne Clarke.”

  “No kidding.”

  “And guess what else?”

  “What?”

  “I called a few real estate agents in the area, and found one who saw her in town with the car. Said the widow Clarke was looking to rent a secluded estate out on Key Largo three months ago. She didn’t have anything available, so she recommended another agent. She’s heading back to her office to look for the file now.”

  “Isn’t that interesting?” Sarge sat back down at her desk. In her mind, she saw the pieces of the puzzle finally lock into place.

  Chapter 76

  Pearl took the call, anxious to see their plan finally reach fruition. Her hand trembled ever so slightly. “You’ve got a report on Peter?” She dispensed with the usual pleasantries.

  “I certainly do.” Marianne’s voice rang back cheerfully. “He left the police station over two hours ago and has been sitting alone in his house, drinking himself into a stupor ever since.”

  “Doesn’t sound like my poor, former husband enjoyed his visit with Coral Gable’s finest.”

  “Well, he didn’t look too pleased when he left the place. In fact, I’m surprised he made it home without having a coronary.”

  “Very considerate of him not to have done that.” Pearl smiled as the image of Peter clutching his chest and falling over dead flashed in her mind. “Can’t have him dying on us while we still have a couple of murders to p
in on him, now can we?”

  “No, we certainly cannot,” Marianne agreed.

  “You’re on your way back then?”

  “As we speak.”

  “Good. Pick us up another bottle of bubbly. We’ll celebrate after we kill the prisoners.”

  “And frame your poor, former husband for their murders.”

  “Exactly. Such a shame he took Nick ruining his life so badly, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yes. Just make sure you don’t get an itchy trigger finger, Pearl. I’m looking forward to killing the man myself, and watching as the life seeps out of his miserable body. It’s a memory I want to replay in my mind every day for the rest of my life.”

  “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll keep him conscious and breathing until you get here.”

  The two women laughed, and Pearl hung up the phone. The burden of her past was about to be lifted. She looked forward with excitement to her future.

  Chapter 77

  The knots binding Nick’s wrists started to loosen. As far as he could tell, however, he had made little progress on Jamie’s. “I think you’ve almost got my ropes undone,” he told her. “What about yours? Can you wriggle your hands free yet?”

  “I don’t think so.” She moved her hands furiously, but then stopped. “Shhh. Someone’s coming.”

  He quickly scooted away, crouching with his back to the wall that adjoined the one with the window, just as the door opened.

  “Miss me?” D-bag asked. His greasy dark hair hung halfway across his face. In his hand, he held a syringe filled with clear liquid. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart.” He looked in Jamie’s direction. “I’m sure lover boy will understand if you’ve been dying to see me again.”

  Jamie grimaced. “Not in this lifetime, the next, or any other one.”

  Behind his back, Nick worked his hands, yanking and pulling on the rope, his wrists burning from the effort. The three steps D-bag had taken toward Jamie shot adrenalin through him. If Muscle Guy laid a finger on her, he’d kill him. “Leave her alone.”

  D-bag turned and smiled. “You ain’t in no position to be telling me what to do, asshole. Besides, if I remember right, the little lady owes me an audition.”

  “I’d sooner die first.”

  Jamie put on a brave face, but Nick recognized the fear in her voice, and fury ate at him all the more for it. “I said keep your hands off her.”

  “Or what?” D-bag asked. “You gonna make me?”

  Nick calculated the distance between them. Even with the element of surprise in his favor, he wasn’t sure he could get to D-bag before D-bag could get to Jamie. He had to lure the man closer. “What have you got in the syringe? A dose of methadone?” He guessed.

  “Yeah.” D-bag took a step toward him. “And if you don’t shut up, I’m gonna give it to you instead of her, and let her enjoy my attention without being drugged first.”

  The bastard meant to rape her. Nick choked back rage. “Guess that’s the only way you can get women to sleep with you, isn’t it? You have to drug them first.”

  “I get plenty of women to sleep with me.” D-bag took another step closer. “They ain’t all stuck-up bitches, you know. Just ask Pearl how much she likes doing the dirty deed with me. She’s about as fancy as they get, and I been banging her for months, while her old man supplies me with all the drugs I want.”

  “There you have it,” Nick taunted. “She used you to get the methadone from her husband and do her dirty work for her. That’s the only reason she’s having sex with you. She called you a dumb oaf behind your back.”

  “You shut the fuck up. I’ve had enough of your shit.”

  D-bag charged full force, and Nick was ready for him. He sprang to his feet just as the bonehead got close enough to strike, sprinting toward him. He barreled head-first into D-bag’s torso, the full force of his body weight driving him backward. The guy’s meaty fist opened, sending the syringe clattering to the floor, while Nick pushed him toward the open window. D-bag let out a startled yelp before reacting and hammering his fist down onto Nick’s back.

  The blow landed to the right of his spine, slamming into his trapezius muscle and forcing out his breath. Instinctively, Nick jerked his head up, only to be met with a second blow to the back of his head. Another shock wave of pain followed. Spasms shook his lungs and muscles. Coughing, he stumbled backward. A woozy feeling threatened to bring him to his knees. He struggled to regain his footing. “Don’t like hearing the truth, do you?” The words rasped out of him.

  D-bag grunted, his nostrils flaring, his fists poised to go another round. “What does a punk ass like you know about the truth? You just publish lots of rumors, same as Peter.”

  Nick laughed through his pain. Behind him, he rubbed his wrists up and down in a wicked motion, feeling the ropes start to give. “Did Peter know you were stabbing him in the back with his ex?”

  “Hell no, dumb ass.” D-bag sneered. “Who the fuck you think the cops are gonna pin your murder on?”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’ll be going down with Peter and Pearl’s husband. She’s already made sure of that.”

  “You shut the fuck up!” D-bag charged, his fist landing hard in Nick’s gut.

  Nick doubled over, gasping for air.

  “Stop it!” Jamie cried out. “Please. You’re hurting him.”

  Nick managed to step backward, avoiding the next blow as D-bag swung wildly in the air. The asshole was big, but not fast. His heavy breathing told Nick he was more than a little out of shape.

  D-bag glared at Jamie. “What the fuck you care what I do to him? Unless you really have been spreading your legs for the guy.”

  Jamie, be quiet. Nick wanted to scream it at her, but didn’t. He thought of how beautiful it felt to make love to her, and of the child growing inside her. And he thought of how much he wanted to save them both. Rage and adrenalin finally accomplished what nothing else could. He pulled his hands free from the rope, letting it drop to the floor, no longer aware of whether he felt pain. “Hey, asshole. Over here.”

  D-bag’s gaze shot back to him. Nick closed the distance between them in a single step. He landed an upper-cut punch to the guy’s jaw. His fist connected with a large cracking sound that sent D-bag’s head jerking backward. Not giving him a chance to recover, Nick followed the punch with a roundhouse kick to the groin and another fist attack, this time landing a punch to the guy’s abdomen.

  D-bag whooshed out a strangled cry, his breath coming out like a hiss. He stumbled moving closer to the window, and Nick charged again, but not before Muscle Guy recovered enough to plow his fist into Nick’s face, landing the punch on the side of his nose and across his upper lip. Nick’s head flew to the side. Blood trickled down his nostrils. Inside his mouth, Nick tasted blood. He swung back, crumpling his knuckles into the side of D-bag’s face. The asshole’s eyes popped open; his groan gasping out through an exhaled breath. Nick struck again, not giving him anymore time to react. His next blow landed squarely on D-bag’s windpipe. He let loose a sputtering, hissing sound, and Nick charged again. This time, he had his foe lined up with the window three feet away. Nick ran into D-bag as hard as he could; using the full force of his weight to knock his opponent back, toward the open, empty window. He pounded his fists into D-bag’s chest and pushed with all his might. D-bag was still gasping, making funny choking noises and clutching his throat. He tried pushing Nick away, but Nick only pushed harder, forcing him to the window. Bringing his leg up, Nick kicked him squarely in the gut.

  The back of D-bag’s calf connected with the ledge, as the momentum of his backward movement propelled him over and out the window. He squealed. A loud thud sounded outside, as his body smacked the ground two stories below.

  Chapter 78

  Watching D-bag’s body fly out the window, Jamie’s heart pounded. They would live. She jumped to her feet, still pulling on her rope and feeling it loosen just a little. “Oh God, Nick.” She wanted nothing more than to feel his arms around her.

 
; “The door!” He pointed behind her. “Go!”

  Jamie turned toward it the same instant he did, only to be stopped abruptly in her tracks. Pearl Watson burst inside, pointing her gun in Nick’s direction.

  “Stop!” She ordered. “Turn your ass around and back up slowly toward the window.”

  Jamie froze, and saw Nick do the same. The same horror, rooted in her heart, etched itself in his eyes. Pearl meant to force Nick out the window the same way he had just forced out D-bag. Panic seized her. “No!” She cried out.

  “Shut up,” Pearl snapped. She remained facing Nick, never moving her gun away.

  “Please don’t kill him!” She couldn’t lose him. She knew it now. He’d been right all along. She loved him and she could no longer imagine her life without him.

  Pearl laughed at her request. “Of course not, dear. I’m saving that little treat for Marianne. Unless, of course, he tries to do something stupid before then.”

  “Why don’t you come a little closer?” Nick taunted. “Don’t want to risk missing if you take a shot at me, do you?”

  As he spoke, he looked at Jamie, and nodded almost imperceptibly toward the door. His meaning was clear; if Pearl took the bait, she should run. Jamie’s heart pounded wildly, robbing her of breath and reason. She looked back at Nick and shook her head.

  “Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Pearl planted herself in the doorway. “Think you’re going to coax me out of the way so your girl Friday can run for help? Sorry, pal, but I’m not as stupid as that idiot you just sent flying out the window.” She laughed. “Thank you for getting rid of him, by the way. Saved me the trouble.”

  Sadness clouded Nick’s eyes. He looked from Jamie to the door.

  Indecision stifled her moves. There had to be a way to save him. Fumbling again with the loosening rope, she managed at last to work one thumb free of the bindings, just as she spied the syringe D-bag had dropped on the floor. It had rolled to a stop less than a foot away from her. Keeping her eyes on Pearl, Jamie squatted down, hoping to look less like an escape threat, and moved slowly toward the syringe. She maneuvered herself in front of it and picked it up with her free thumb, rolling it up against the bound palms of her hands.