by Ann Simas
Fortunately, she made better time driving than dressing, though she still wasn’t thrilled about the driving part. Thanks to light traffic, she arrived at Orion’s Belt at a little after noon. Unfortunately, Jack wasn’t there. She climbed out of her rental car, trying to decide what to do. She didn’t bother going upstairs to find Brent. As it happened, he was looking out his window, munching a sandwich. He made hand signals, indicating that he’d come down.
Andi climbed back into her car, shivering. She started up the engine and cranked up the heat.
Brent climbed in to join her.
“Where’s Jack?” she asked.
“He got a call from his lieutenant and said he had to go back to the station. Shouldn’t you be in bed, recovering from pneumonia?”
“Yes, but I need to know what Jack found.”
“He told me someone had left some stuff on your doorstep. The license plate number of the involved vehicle” —he paused a moment— “it was one of ours.”
That part wasn’t news. “Who had it checked out yesterday?”
“Rico, but actually, he took it on Friday because he was supposed to be at a trade show over the weekend.”
“I don’t see either of the SUVs here now.”
“No, Rico isn’t due back to work until tomorrow morning and Chris and Lacey are over at Edgerton High, doing a workshop with the art students on game app art.”
“Rico actually did check out one of the SUVs.” So, Jack had been right. But could Rico really hate her that much?
Brent nodded. “Jack asked if there was any damage to either of the vehicles lately. There hasn’t been, but…why did he ask that, Andi? What’s happening?”
“I promise I’ll fill you in later, Brent, but for now, I really need to jet. I’ve got to talk to Jack.”
“Can’t you just call him?”
“I tried that and he’s not answering. I’m going to head over to EPD.”
Ten minutes later, Andi was bemoaning the best laid plans of mice and women stricken with pneumonia. Jack wasn’t at the station, nor was Stacy. Andi dialed him one more time and left a voice mail. “Jack, I just talked to Denise and you won’t believe what she told me! I’m headed over to her place now since I can’t reach you. You need to be there by one o’clock, okay? It’s urgent! I can’t believe it, but those suspicions I didn’t even know I had were right on the money.”
Back in her car, she headed for Denise’s.
It was 12:45 and belatedly, she remembered that she hadn’t called Denise back. Too late now.
She also remembered she hadn’t told Jack the nature of her suspicions. Like she actually even knew herself! So much for thinking with a clear head. Or sharing information. If he hammered on her again, she planned to blame it on the pneumonia.
God, why hadn’t she thought about all this a little more thoroughly?
No time for self-recriminations, either, just get there.
Her foot went down on the accelerator, praying she wouldn’t meet any men in blue along the way, aiming a speed gun in her direction.
By the time she arrived at the Naylor home, her eyes were watering and her chest rasped with every breath she took. Andi hoped it was stress and not a worsening of the pneumonia.
The only other vehicle present was the black-and-white unit out front emblazoned with EDGERTON POLICE along both sides and EMERGENCY / 911 on the rear fenders.
Andi climbed out of her car with all the agility of Bigfoot, wondering why she felt so lethargic. A girl needed energy when she had to stop a killer from killing.
She stopped at the patrol unit.
Officer Haley’s window went down. “Hey, Andi, how’s it going?”
“I’ve had better days,” she said, but didn’t offer further explanation. “How’s everything here?”
“Fairly quiet. Mrs. Naylor’s security detail pulled out shortly after nine this morning. Not much else going on.”
“She’s expecting company for lunch at one, did she tell you?”
“Yeah, she did, but her cousin’s already here.”
“What? I don’t see another car.”
“Someone dropped her off—”
An arm snaked past Andi and walloped the side of Officer Haley’s head with the butt of a gun. Haley collapsed sideways in the seat, his body folding over the laptop attached to his console.
Startled and sluggish, Andi jumped out of the way, but not fast enough or far enough to keep Rico Fontaine from getting a stranglehold on her. “Scream or in any way bring attention to us and I’ll kill you on the spot,” he snarled into her ear. “Understand?”
Andi tried to nod, but it was a wasted effort with his arm encircling her neck.
“Move!”
Before she had a chance to take a step, he pushed away from the patrol car, tugging her alongside him, literally choking her. The front door flew open as they neared the porch.
“Hurry!” Helen yelled.
Why, oh, why, had Denise let those security people go?
Andi lost her footing on the first step, but Rico didn’t let that stop him from dragging her up the next three. The concrete edges scraped the backs of her legs and her Achilles tendons, sending sharp shafts of pain through her body. Her vision began to fluctuate with flashes of light, which she likened to stars, and she knew it would only be a matter of time before she passed out. When Rico pulled her over the threshold, she decided to go limp, in hopes that he would think she’d passed out.
Her ploy worked. He yelped, apparently so surprised by the dead weight of her body that he released her. She dropped to the floor with a dull thud.
“I hope you haven’t killed her,” Helen said.
“I hope I have,” her son responded.
Andi heard a smack, as if Helen had hit him. She opened her eyes to a slit, hoping to get some perspective on who was where.
“Don’t be a moron, Rico. She’s a problem. Denise we can deal with because we planned this perfectly, but little Miss Nosy here, that’s another matter. We’re going to have to figure out how to handle her without anything coming back on us.” She stood in the doorway, looking toward the police car. “What did you do to the cop?”
“Hit him with my gun. I didn’t know what else to do. When I walked back from parking my car, I was surprised to find this bitch talking to him.”
“We need to make sure he’s down for the count.”
“What, you mean shoot him?”
Helen swung on him. “Grow some balls! You can run a woman into a building with your car hoping it’ll kill her, but you can’t shoot a pig?”
“The neighbors will hear. Cops will be all over the neighborhood.”
She smacked him again. “Think, Rico! We have a silencer. Use your damned head.”
“Sorry, Mom, I forgot. Where is it?”
“In the kitchen, where I left that bitch, Denise.”
“Did she put up much of a fight?”
“She tried, but I picked up a sauce pan and nailed her with it. Kept her out until I got her restrained.”
The two of them turned from the open doorway. Through her slitted eyes, Andi couldn’t help but see Rico’s foot coming. She willed herself not to respond when it connected with her side.
“She’s out,” he said by way of confirmation. “I’ll get the gun and take care of the cop, then I’ll come back and truss her up, too.”
The two of them hurried down the hall together. As soon as they were out of sight, Andi struggled to her feet and staggered out the door. She pulled out her phone as she went, hitting the speed dial for Jack. She made it almost as far as the patrol car when someone grabbed her from behind and threw her over his shoulder.
The world looked different upside down, but sick and bruised or not, and even with her mind muddled, Andi would have recognized Jack’s butt anywhere.
Chapter 31
“Andi, when youleave me a message that your suspicions have been confirmed, you need to let me know what the damned suspicions are.” J
ack handed her the strawberry milkshake, then opened a package of Twinkies. He gave one to her and kept one for himself.
She didn’t mind sharing because he was so darned thoughtful, having purchased an entire box of comfort food just for her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t know why these taste good,” he said, opening another pack. “Now, back to your suspicions. “Mind telling me what they were?”
“Honestly, it was something that just kept niggling at my brain. Until I read that article that mentioned Helen being married before, and confirming it with Denise, and learning Helen had a kid named Enrico who went by Rico—”
“Andi, cut to the chase, will you?”
“It all connected to Clem’s phone. Denise told me that he was forever leaving it somewhere. When I went back and reread my journal entries, there were two in particular that mentioned someone returning a phone to him. One was Seth Deacon, recounting a story of Giustina showing up at a meeting with it, and the other was Davis MacLeary, saying he’d seen something on someone’s phone that his wife was probably going to act on. That’s when I remembered that Denise said Helen had returned Clem’s phone once because he’d left it at their house.”
Jack froze, his mouth open over the end of a fresh Twinkie. He put it down and asked, “How did you connect anything from those two events?”
“I didn’t until I also went back and reexamined the calendar I made of the communications between Clem and The Liquidator. Initially, they communicated by text, then they switched to email. From that point on, the hit was a go, so no need for more contact.”
“But there was more contact.”
“Right, another email, but that one instructed him to get a throw-away phone. At first, I thought Clem’s partners had gotten a look at that phone at work, since he had a problem keeping track of his phone, but that didn’t compute because they’d only returned his smartphone. When I asked Denise if Clem ever took his laptop to the office, she said no. That meant his partners wouldn’t have had any opportunity to access his personal email and wouldn’t have conspired to send an email from The Liquidator.”
“Babe, you’re making me dizzy. Get to the point!”
“Davis and Helen were at Clem and Denise’s together twice just before Davis died, and after, they buried the hatchet with Helen, so to speak, and were repairing their relationship. Denise said Helen frequently used Clem’s laptop to look stuff up while she was over, sometimes with her son, Enrico. With his help, she could have easily cloned The Liquidator’s email and sent Clem the subsequent email instructing him to get a burner phone. At the same time, she would’ve provided him with her burner phone number. Once that was done, she could cancel the contract with The Liquidator by pretending she was Clem, and proceeded as if she were the hitman.”
“These are all suppositions, right? You don’t have proof positive that any of this happened.”
“You’re partially right. I know that Clem misplaced his phone frequently. I know that Helen had access to his laptop. I know that The Liquidator didn’t make the hit. As to how he got cancelled, I’m betting you’ll find an email that was deleted from Clem’s laptop to the hitman, canceling the hit. We never did dig into deletions, you know. And as for the hitman, why would he care if the job was cancelled? The ten-K was his to keep, regardless.”
“That doesn’t explain why Helen waited. Why not just let the hit proceed as planned, if her goal was to see Denise dead?”
Andi puckered her mouth, thinking. “I’m not sure I have that worked out, but I have some ideas. One is that she not only wanted to torment Denise as long as possible, but she also wanted Denise to know who it was killing her. It’s also possible that when she contacted The Liquidator, she said something that would lead him back to her. If she’d let the hit finalize, he’d come after her looking for the balance of his fifty-K.”
Jack polished off his Twinkie and stood. He began to pace Andi’s kitchen–dining area. “I hope to God Helen and/or Enrico spill their guts in interrogation. Otherwise, the LT is going to be all over me on this.”
Andi frowned. “Have I made things worse for you?”
“Not exactly. Denise is still alive, so that’s a plus.” He reached for the remaining Twinkie in the pack and devoured it. “The thing is, things have to be neat and tidy before we go to the DA.”
“I might have forgotten to tell you one thing.”
He practically lurched to a stop, staring down at her.
“Helen MacLeary’s son, Enrico, is Rico Fontaine.”
“What?” Jack bellowed. “How do you know that?”
“Aside from the fact that I recognized him, Denise told me when I called her earlier. I needed to know if Helen had ever been married and had kids before.”
“What precipitated that?”
“The article I found on the sixth page of the results I came up with when I was Google-searching Helen’s name after you left this morning. I just mentioned that a few minutes ago, remember?”
He planted his splayed fingers on his hips. “You rested by Google-searching.”
“Mea culpa. It was a building contractors’ magazine article about wives whose husbands had died on the job.”
“She was married to a building contactor?”
Andi gave him the story Denise had related, which confirmed what she’d read in the article.
Jack synopsized the other parts of the story. “Years later, Helen meets Davis at Denise and Clem’s, they get married, one or both of them determines they have a proclivity for wife-swapping, they invite Denise and Clem, who refuse to participate, and somehow Davis comes on to both Denise and Clem, which sets Helen off to the point where she wants to kill Denise.”
“Denise swears Davis never came on to her and she was surprised when I told her he came on to Clem, who swears he rejected him.”
Jack rubbed his jaw. “Why can’t people just be normal? This is so tangled, it could be a book called Fifty Shades of Perversion.”
“I still don’t understand why Rico got it in his head to come after me.”
“He inherited his mother’s whackadoodle genes.”
Andi half-grinned. “I supposed that’s as good a reason as any. He seemed reluctant to go back out and kill Officer Haley, though, so I suppose that spoke something of his character.”
Jack grunted. “Did you forget he came chasing after you with a gun with a silencer on it? He was aiming to kill Haley and you.”
Andi hadn’t forgotten, but she didn’t want to dwell on it, either.
“There’s one big loose end here.”
“How so?”
Jack raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t see how any of this connects with Seth and Marianne Deacon.”
“The only remote connection is that Marianne told me she had a vague image of two people showing up at their door, one of them silver-haired. Clem being the common denominator between them, I suppose it’s possible the Deacons’ deaths are on Helen.” Andi narrowed her eyes in thought. “Maybe Helen had misconceptions about her husband lusting after Marianne. I wish I’d known about the swinger stuff when they passed through. I could have asked them.”
Jack’s phone rang before he could respond. He listened in silence for several minutes, then said, “Thanks for letting me know.” He disconnected, his expression pensive.
“What is it?”
“That was the LT. They just arrested Vince Giustina for the Deacon murders.” He shook his head. “As I recall, you said they told you the Dubai deal was dubious.”
Andi nodded. “How dubious was it?”
“Think of it as the Middle Eastern version of selling a bridge over Florida swampland swarming with alligators.”
“You’re kidding! Did he do it alone?”
“It looks that way…and he is silver-haired.”
Before she could comment, a knock sounded at the door.
Jack went over to open it.
Father Riley stood on t
he stoop. “Brought dinner,” he said, holding up a handle bag for inspection. “I can’t wait to hear the whole story.” He stepped inside and moved over to the counter, where he unloaded his bounty and set the oven to 350 degrees. “How are you feeling?” he asked Andi as he removed his coat and took a chair at the table.
“Like I’ve been dragged up a set of stairs,” she replied honestly.
“Your voice is a little hoarse. Jack said the guy had you in a stranglehold.”
Andi couldn’t contain a shiver. “He did, and I faked being unconscious so he’d drop me. He and Helen walked away, thinking I was down for the count, so I managed to escape.”
Andi didn’t have it in her to repeat everything, but Jack, who couldn’t rest until he had every pesky little detail in place, had no such compunction. She spoke only if he looked to her for confirmation. By the time he’d recounted everything leading up to her pell-mell rush to Denise’s, and what had taken place after her arrival, he seemed satisfied that his case against Helen and her son was solid.
The timer sounded and Jack went to pull the baked ziti casserole out of the oven. Father Riley rose to set the table.
Once they were all seated again, the priest murmured a short prayer. “Father in Heaven, thank you for the intuitive powers you’ve instilled in our Andi. We pray you will continue to keep her safe as she ventures forth willy-nilly into situations no regular person would think of tackling. Thank you, too, for the bounty provided at this table, as well as the abiding friendship of those present. Amen.”
Andi and Jack, both smiling, echoed the priest’s amen.
“Willy-nilly?” Andi said.
“I smell a saint story coming on,” Jack said.
Andi gave her head a quick shake, knowing he was probably right.
Father Riley said, “At least when I compare you to St. Mary di Rosa, you can rest easy knowing she didn’t perform any miracles.”
Jack glanced at Andi, then back at the priest. “What got her sainthood, then?”
“Confronting obstacles, regardless of the hazards involved.” He smiled. “Or perhaps, I should have said embracing obstacles, because that certainly seems like it’s what Andi does.”
