by Terri Reid
“Well hello there,” she said, tossing him a flirtatious smile. “How can I help you?”
It took Stanley a moment to remember that this whole thing was a set-up and he was being played. He shook his head to clear it and then nodded at the woman. “Chuck invited me,” he said. “To see iffen this is something I’m even interested in.”
She rose from her chair, displaying a well-formed body in a short, tight, knit dress, and walked around the desk, slipping her arm through his. “Well,” she whispered. “Why don’t we see if we can’t locate Chuck.”
Stanley froze, feeling like he was betraying Rosie by walking anywhere with this floozie. He started to pull his arm away from hers when he remembered he was undercover and needed to play along with it. His new identity included a man who was separated from his wife and he needed to act like it.
“Nice to have a little feminine-like company,” he said with a polite nod. “It’d be my pleasure to walk with you to find Chuck.”
She laughed, and to Stanley, it was an annoying tittering sound. “Maybe we can take the long way,” she suggested.
I sure hope not, he thought. But he smiled in agreement.
Chuck was seated at the end of the conference table, but as soon as he saw Stanley, he stood up. “Stanley,” he said with an eager smile. “So good to see you.”
Stanley stared at the young man and shook his head. “In my day, you didn’t go around using people’s given names until you got their say so,” Stanley remarked.
Chuck’s face reddened. “Oh, I apologize, Mr. Wagner,” Chuck said. “Or may I call you Stanley.”
Stanley met his eyes. “You can call me Mr. Wagner fer now,” he replied.
Stanley watched Chuck’s eyes harden and realized that he needed to be sure he didn’t push the man too far.
“Very well, Mr. Wagner,” Chuck said cordially. “Please have a seat. Vanessa, will you please get Mr. Wagner a coffee?”
Stanley shrugged. “Already had my coffee for the day,” he said. “Maybe next time.”
Vanessa rubbed her hand up and down Stanley’s arm. “But my boss will be mad at me if you don’t take one,” she whispered. “How about I make it to-go so that you can drink it on the way home?”
“Fine,” Stanley agreed. “Now what?”
“Well, I have a pamphlet that goes over all of the benefits of the investment group,” Chuck said, walking over to Stanley and placing a folder on the table. “Can we go over it? It will only take a few minutes, I promise.”
Stanley sighed audibly and nodded. “I suppose since I’m here, I might as well see what you got to offer.”
He sat down at the table, and Chuck sat next to him and opened the folder. “The first thing we offer is a free life insurance policy to all of our members,” he said.
“Why?” Stanley asked.
“Because we realize that final expenses are a concern of most of our members, so we take out a life insurance policy to help them cover those expenses,” Chuck said.
“I already got a life insurance policy,” Stanley replied. “So, I ain’t really interested.”
“You can never have too much life insurance,” Chuck countered. “Free money.”
Stanley looked at him and shook his head. “Ain’t no such thing as free money,” he said. “Someone always got to pay. Who’s gonna pay for this policy.”
“Why we’ll pay for it, of course,” Chuck said. “That’s why it’s free.”
“Then what’s in it fer you?” Stanley asked.
Chuck shrugged. “Well, we’ve got a rider on the policy that in the event of your death, we will be paid an amount equal to or greater than the amount we paid into the policy.”
“So, if I die, you make money?” Stanley asked.
Chuck shook his head. “For the most part, we just get back what we paid into the policy,” he replied. “See, free money.”
“What do I have to do?” he asked.
“Well, actually, for you, all you have to do is sign the forms,” he said. “Because you recently were under the care of a physician, we can use your records to file for your policy.”
“How did you know I was under the care of a physician?” Stanley asked.
Chuck blanched for a moment and swallowed hard. Then he took a deep breath and smiled. “Well, it was in the papers,” he said. “You’re a lucky man to be alive.”
“Yes, I am,” he agreed. “Yes, I am.”
Chuck handed the form to Stanley and then gave him a pen. “Why don’t I give you a moment to fill these out,” he said. “And I’ll be right back.”
Stanley nodded. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll see what I think about your policy.”
“That’s fair enough,” Chuck replied. “And I’ll just check on a few things too.”
Chapter Forty-seven
Chuck hurried across the room to Vanessa’s desk. “I need you to find me copies of the articles about Stanley Wagner’s fire accident,” he said. “It happened in December. Send me the links as soon as you find them.”
She nodded. “Right away, Chuck,” she said.
Chuck walked to the back of the office to a dark panel door that had a security touch lock on it. He quickly pressed the buttons and heard the deadbolt slide away, and then he let himself into the inner office.
“That old guy’s a real ass,” Joe Thalman, Chuck’s older partner commented.
“You’re telling me,” Chuck agreed, crossing the room and pouring himself a cup of coffee from a small machine on the counter. “And I’m going to be really happy to give him what’s coming to him.”
Joe studied the screen. “He’s not driving much,” he noted, looking down at the camera monitor over the parking lot. “I saw him come in. That’s an old car.”
Chuck looked over his shoulder. “No, that’s vintage, not old,” he said. “And this guy has quite a big bank account. And the more money he has, the bigger the life insurance policy we can take out.”
“I heard him asking you a bunch of questions,” Joe said.
“Yeah, well this guy was a businessman,” Chuck reasoned. “He owned Wagner’s Office Products, so he’s bound to be a little savvier than our usual client.”
“As long as he’s not a plant,” Joe said.
Chuck laughed. “Like anyone would want to work with someone like him.”
When his phone rang, Chuck reached in his pocket and pulled it out. “What the hell, Vanessa?” he asked. “I told you to email it to me.”
He listened for a moment and then turned to Joe. “Did you know our internet service was down?” he asked.
Joe shook his head. “No, all of our cameras are on an internal network,” he said.
Chuck turned back to his phone. “Yeah, okay, fine, send them to me on my phone. Thanks,” he replied and then he hung up.
“If it’s not one damn thing, it’s another,” he mumbled, then he pressed a link on his phone and scanned the information. “Well, damn!”
“What?” Joe asked.
Chuck ran his hand over his face, his jaw was set, and his eyes filled with rage. “Guess who rescued Stanley Wagner from the fire inside his home in December?” he asked.
Joe shrugged, confused. “Who?”
“His best friend, Police Chief Bradley Alden,” Chuck replied.
“Well, that doesn’t…” Joe began, and then he stopped. “Were you in the office last night.”
Chuck flashed back to the horrifying encounter in the hall and shook his head. “No, why?” he asked.
“Well, then, it seems like we might have had visitors,” Joe said. “Our tape feed from 11:15 to 11:30 was replaced by tape feed from the previous day. At the very end of the tape, I saw a reflection of you leaving the office.”
“Could it be a glitch?” Chuck asked.
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Joe said. “And with your new friend out there and the tapes being altered, I would guess that someone is on to us.”
“Well, damn,” Chuck said. “I
guess our friend, Mr. Wagner, is going to have to leave this world a little sooner than he had planned.”
Chapter Forty-eight
Bradley, Alex, and Dave entered the lobby of the laboratory and walked over to the counter.
“Hey, Chief Alden, we’ve got those samples you gave us,” the young lab assistant behind the counter said. “The boss wants to meet with you about them. You okay with suiting up and seeing him inside, or do you want to wait?”
“How long a wait? Bradley asked.
The assistant looked down at the computer screen and shrugged. “Could be thirty minutes,” he said.
Bradley looked at his companions. “You guys okay with suiting up?” he asked.
“Sure,” Dave said. “The sooner, the better. Stanley is done at the investor group and probably on his way to police station.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait around for thirty minutes,” Alex added. “I’ve got to be in court in an hour.”
The lab assistant gave them large clear plastic bags that contained white sterilized pants, lab coat, booties, and a hair net. “Oh,” he said, looking at Dave. “I’ll get you another hair net for your beard.”
“That will be such a good look,” Alex said. “I’ll be sure to take a photo.”
“You can’t bring your phone in there,” the assistant added. “But I’ll keep them secure out here.”
Bradley hesitated.
“I’ll come and get you if anyone calls,” the assistant said.
“It’s only going to be ten minutes,” Alex added.
Bradley nodded. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said, placing his phone in the tray with the other two phones.
They quickly donned the sterile gear and walked back over to the counter.
“Ready?” the assistant asked, looking them over. “Good! Okay, follow me. I’ll lead you to the lab.”
The three men followed the lab assistant through the door behind the counter and down the hall. As soon as the door closed behind them Bradley’s phone started ringing. It rang several times and finally there was a beep.
“Call me as soon as you can,” read the text from Mary. “It’s urgent.”
Chapter Forty-nine
Stanley walked out of the building and headed toward the parking lot. He breathed a sigh of relief. He sure hoped the recording devices he was wearing captured everything Bradley and Alex would need for their case. He was going to head over to the police department directly to see if they thought he got anything useful or if he needed to go back again.
He turned the corner into the parking lot and sighed with frustration. Two tires on his car were completely flat. “Dagnabbit,” he grumbled. “I ain’t got time for this nonsense.”
“Mr. Wagner, what’s wrong?”
Stanley turned to see Vanessa, the receptionist from the investor’s group, coming down the sidewalk towards him.
He shrugged. “Nothing. Nothing at all,” he said.
She looked over his shoulder and saw his car. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “It’s bad enough to get one flat, but with two, it’s not like you have a spare for both.”
“Exactly,” Stanley said. “It’s gonna have to get towed.”
“Oh, that might take some time for them to get here,” she said. “Here, let me drive you home, then you can call someone from there. It’s too cold for you to stand outside and wait.”
Stanley shook his head. “No, thank you,” he said. “I’d really prefer to wait.”
She sighed. “Well, then, I’m just going to have to miss lunch and wait with you,” she replied. “There’s no way I’d let you stand out here all by yourself.”
“No, I insist, you go have your lunch,” he said.
“No, I just can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t forgive myself for abandoning you.”
“It ain’t abandoning,” Stanley argued. “This ain’t the wilds of Africa. This is downtown Freeport; I’m fine waiting for a tow truck.”
“Well, I hate to say this,” she said, lowering her voice. “But if my boss were to look out the window and see you standing there, he would fire me for sure.”
“You really need to get a new job, missy,” Stanley said. “Iffen they’re willing to fire you for that; they’re just plain stupid.”
She batted her eyes, and they filled with moisture. “Oh, I know,” she said, sniffling back a sob. “The things I could tell you about them. I’m sure it would amaze you.”
Stanley paused and stared at her. What would she be willing to tell him? Did she know about the murders? Maybe she had more evidence they could use on the investigation. He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and turned his wire back on. “On second thought,” he said. “I would be mighty appreciative for a ride home. Maybe you can tell me some of those things that you think would amaze me.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “Of course, my car’s over here,” she said.
She led Stanley to a panel van parked in the far corner of the lot, next to the building. She walked over to the passenger side with him. Unlocking the door, she opened it and motioned for him to climb in. “After you,” she said.
Stanley stepped up into the van and sat down. “Thank you,” he said.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she replied. But as she closed the van door, a hand reached out from behind Stanley’s chair and covered his mouth with a thick cloth.
“What the…” Stanley exclaimed, his voice muffled. A moment later he slumped back against the seat, motionless.
Chapter Fifty
Mary opened up a plastic drop cloth and handed one end to her friend Katie Brennan. “Okay, let’s lay this under the big wall,” she said, moving back to the corner of the room.
“I can’t believe that we are actually going to be able to start painting in here,” Katie said, unfolding the large plastic sheet as she moved backwards along the wall.
“I know,” Mary agreed. “It seems like every time we tried something stopped us.”
“Or someone,” Katie added, glancing out of the room towards the hall. “I have to admit; it feels better in here. Lighter, somehow.”
“I think we’re getting to the bottom of some of the problems with the house,” Mary agreed. She picked up the can of paint and put it in the middle of the plastic drop cloth. “And, I think a new coat of paint will help too.”
“Why, do ghosts like new paint?” Katie asked, kneeling next to the can and prying open the lid.
Mary laughed. “I have no idea,” she said. “But it will be less depressing for me.”
Katie nodded. “I totally agree,” she said. She picked up the can and poured some paint into an aluminum paint tray. “And I can’t wait to get started.”
Rolling a paint roller through the paint, she smiled up at Mary and handed the roller to her. “Your house,” she said. “You get to paint the first swatch.”
“Why thank you,” she replied, accepting the roller. She turned around and painted a wide swatch of white across the center of the wall. She turned back to Katie. “It looks better…”
Then her eyes focused on a place beyond Katie and Katie shivered.
“What?” Katie asked nervously.
Mary looked at Gilbert, his eyes wide with fear. “It’s Stanley,” Gilbert told her. “They’ve taken Stanley.”
“Where?” Mary asked.
“No, what?” Katie insisted. “What are you looking at?”
Mary glanced back to Katie. “I’m so sorry…” she began.
“There’s trouble, isn’t there?” Katie asked.
Mary nodded and pulled out her phone, dialing Bradley’s number. She waited for him to pick up, but it went to his voicemail. She called again, but the same thing happened. Finally, she sent him an urgent text. “Stanley was working on a case for us,” she said to Katie. “And he’s in trouble.”
“Go,” Katie said, standing up. “I’ll clean things up and then go back to your place and wait with Rosie and Mikey. Do you want me to tell Rosie
anything?”
Mary shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “Not until I know what we’re dealing with.”
Mary looked around the room. “Are you sure you’re okay…”
“Go, don’t argue,” Katie insisted. “Now.”
Mary grabbed her purse, tossed Katie the keys to the house and ran out the door. Katie stuck the keys in her pocket. “Be careful,” she called after Mary.
Then she stood up in the middle of the room, put her hands on her hips and looked around. Mary was right, the white swatch of paint really made a difference. “Well, I could go ahead and continue painting for a little while,” she said aloud. But then she felt a chill run down the back of her neck, she turned around, but no one was there. She stared at nothing for a long moment and then shook her head. “Or I could just clean things up and wait across the street with Rosie.”
She picked up the tray and poured the paint back into the bucket, then put the lid back on the bucket and pounded it down. “Now all I have to do it clean the roller,” she said, knowing that she was talking to herself to avoid silence in the big empty house. She placed the wet roller in the tray, picked it up and walked to the hall. “I know the kitchen is around here somewhere.”
Suddenly a door on the other side of the hallway opened by itself. Katie gasped and watched as a series of lights turned on, beyond the door.
“Okay. Um, maybe not,” she said, putting the tray on the floor and picking up her coat and purse. “I can just buy Mary a new roller and tray. I don’t need to clean this one up at all.”
She backed up to the front door and quickly let herself out. She pulled the door quickly closed behind her and made sure that she didn’t look back inside as she locked the door.
“I take back everything I said about it feeling better in there,” she muttered. “It’s going to take a lot more than paint to make this house a home.”
Chapter Fifty-one
Stanley barely opened his right eye, the one nearest the van window. He’d pretended to be overcome by the chloroform, but in reality, as soon as the cloth had been placed over his face, he’d held his breath and fell back in the seat. Now that the van was moving, he thought he could peek through his eyelashes and figure out where they were taking him.
