Trapped By Revenge: A Shelby Nichols Adventure

by Colleen Helme

  “Yeah that would help,” I agreed.

  “Would help what?” Uncle Joey asked, irritated that he was left out of the conversation. Oops.

  “Taking a look at Killpack’s files,” Ramos said quickly. He arched his brow at me and thought, don’t do that to Manetto. You don’t want him upset with you. I frowned, but gave Ramos a grudging nod, hating that he was scolding me, even if he was right.

  “Yes,” Uncle Joey agreed. “I’ll see what my contact at the police department can do about that.” He glanced at me. “In the meantime, you should follow that lead of yours. It might turn out to be useful.”

  “Okay, good. I will. In fact, I’d better get going if I’m going to be ready in time.” I stood up from the table and pushed in my chair.

  “We’ll see you tonight then,” Uncle Joey said. I nodded and turned away.

  “Wait Shelby,” Ramos said. “I’ll walk you out.” He was thinking I was upset with him, but didn’t know why, and he wanted to smooth things over with me.

  I glanced at Uncle Joey, who was thinking that no matter what we said, Ramos and I were involved. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but he understood it. I’d done something for Ramos that had earned his trust, which no one but Uncle Joey had ever done before. Uncle Joey didn’t know what it was, but it had changed Ramos. As long as it didn’t interfere with Ramos’ job, he supposed it was all right.

  This time, I nodded at Uncle Joey to let him know I’d heard his thoughts. I turned back to Ramos and found him scowling at me. He was wondering what Uncle Joey had just told me, and I knew I’d have to explain it to him, which I figured I could do, but for Pete’s sake! Couldn’t they just say stuff out loud and get it over with?

  “What was that all about,” Ramos asked.

  “Uncle Joey thinks we’re involved somehow. He thinks you trust me and he wanted me to know that he’s okay with it as long as it doesn’t interfere with your job. And I think he wanted you to know that too, but since he only thought it, I can’t be sure about that. At least I have to assume that he’d think I’d tell you, right? So now that I’ve told you, it was like him telling you, which I think is what he wanted.”

  “Huh,” Ramos said, his lips turning up in a small smile. “So…we’re all good?” He was thinking that if I was upset about anything I’d tell him, otherwise, things were good between us.

  “Yeah, sure. We’re good.” What was it with men and not saying stuff out loud?

  He nodded, and pleased with our conversation, walked beside me to the exit. The valet brought my car around and slipped my waiting golf clubs into the trunk.

  “See you tonight,” Ramos said. He was thinking that I should wear my sexy dress and shoes he’d bought for me in Orlando, just for old time’s sake. I’d won the poker match wearing them, hadn’t I?

  I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. “We’ll see about that.” It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him he might like seeing me in something else, but luckily, I kept my mouth shut.

  Chapter 7

  I made it home and had time to take a quick shower, which was a good thing since my hair was all flat from being smashed in my hat. I had my notebook all ready with the questions written down, and even had time to go over them before Billie pulled up. All at once, my stomach clenched, so I took a quick swig of Mylanta, then decided to throw the bottle into my purse just as a precaution. I was probably nervous about meeting Jim, and maybe more nervous about going to prison.

  Billie looked about the same as she did yesterday in a nice blouse and slacks. I wore my tan capris and a blue flowered blouse with my tan wedge sandals. School might have started, but it was still August, and I wasn’t about to rush the season.

  “Hi Billie Joel…I mean Billie Jo…a…Billie,” I stammered. Wow, that was embarrassing.

  She laughed, thinking that only a few people had ever mixed up her name like that, and I must be nervous or something. How did I know about the Jo part of her name anyway? She must have slipped up and used it around me. But that was hard to believe. She was usually real careful about that. Of course, I was supposed to be psychic, maybe that explained it.

  “Hey, maybe with your psychic abilities, you’ll be able to figure out what happened with Jim and who the real killer is.” She hadn’t thought of that before.

  “Who told you I was psychic?” I asked. “I mean…I have premonitions once in a while, but that’s different.”

  “Oh…I think it was the bank manager from that other case you worked on.” She was pretty sure he had mentioned it when she’d interviewed him about the missing bank money, even though it was Dimples who had inadvertently let it slip yesterday. Not too many people could keep a secret around her.

  Wow, she was good at getting people to talk. I’d have to remember that and keep my guard up.

  “So tell me how it works?” she asked. “Will you be able to pick up anything about Jim’s case?

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “It just depends. I guess we’ll have to wait and see when we get there.” I didn’t want to get any more specific than that with Billie. From the way she was thinking, she’d probably get it in her head to drag me around to all her interviews to use my ‘psychic abilities,’ and I did not need that right now…or ever for that matter.

  “Okay.” She could tell I didn’t want to talk about it, so she let it go. She had plenty of time to get it out of me later if she wanted. But right now… “So, did you find anything helpful in the files?”

  “Not really,” I said. “But I have a few questions I want to ask him. From what I could see, the case was pretty substantial against him. Hopefully, I’ll know more after I talk to him.”

  The forty-five minute drive flew by quickly, and it wasn’t long before we pulled into the parking lot and were admitted inside the prison. After signing our names and going through several checkpoints with the doors opening and closing, we finally made it into the visitation area. Because Jim was on death row, his hands and feet were shackled, and they brought him into a cage-like structure at the back of the visiting room, where we sat on a wooden bench facing him.

  The first thing that hit me as he was led into the cage was an aura of hopelessness. He had accepted his fate, and even though Billie was allowed to talk to him, he wasn’t sure it would do any good. He’d given up. Nothing and no one could help him now. He glanced at me, knowing from his contact with Billie that I was there to help him if I could, but he didn’t think it would make a difference. He was going to die, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

  My chest got tight, and I tried to harden my feelings so I could handle talking to him without crying at his predicament. Billie introduced us, and I began asking my questions.

  “Did you kill Rebecca Morris?” I asked.

  His brows rose in surprise, but he quickly responded. “No. She was alive the last time I saw her.”

  “Tell me about that,” I said.

  He began his explanation with careless ease, like he’d told the story so many times he didn’t have to think about it much. “I went to her office to talk to her and see if she could take a quick break and go out to dinner with me. She was staying late like she usually did on Thursdays, but I thought she could at least take a break for dinner. But she said she had to get this assignment done and couldn’t do it. I got angry that she was putting her work before me.” He swallowed, bitterness still lingering in his mind. “To say I regret the last words I spoke to her is an understatement. If I’d known… but… that’s the way it is.” In his mind, I caught an image of him saying a frustrated goodbye and walking out the door, leaving her sitting at her desk.

  “I believe you,” I said. “And you didn’t go back later that night?”

  “No,” he answered. “But I wish I would have. Maybe I could have stopped it from happening, or been murdered with her. That would have been better than this hell I’ve gone through. You don’t know what it’s like to be found guilty of killing someone you’re supposed to love and cherish. I
’ve lost everything, not only my friends and family, but my reputation. I’m a good person, but who would believe that now? Everyone hates a cold-blooded killer. That’s who I am, even if it’s not true, and when I die next week, that’s all anybody will ever remember about me.”

  I swallowed against the lump in my throat. How could this happen? From what I could see in his mind, he was truly innocent. He didn’t do it. I glanced at Billie. She was thinking that he was either the best liar ever, or he was completely innocent. She’d interviewed a few sociopaths who could lie so convincingly that tears ran down their cheeks. But they were still lies. She wished she knew if he was one of them. Even if her gut told her he wasn’t lying, it was still hard to believe with all the solid evidence against him.

  “Billie let me look at your files,” I said. “You said your gun must have been stolen. Where did you keep it? Was it in a safe?”

  “No. I kept it in my bedroom closet in a shoebox. I didn’t even know it was gone until they arrested me. Someone must have broken in, and whoever did it was good. I never knew. You’d think I’d know something like that,” he said with self-incrimination. “Like maybe something would be out of place, or a window would be broken or something. But I had no idea.”

  “What about that night? Where did you go after you left her office?”

  “I took a walk,” Jim replied, shaking his head. He was thinking that if only he’d gone to a bar where lots of people would have seen him, things might have turned out better. “I was too upset to go home, and I was trying to figure out what to do. I didn’t know if she still loved me, you know? I thought maybe there was someone else, or she was tired of me and wanted to call it off. Anyway, when I got to my apartment the police were already there. They arrested me on the spot. I never even got to go inside.”

  “I know you’ve probably gone over this, but can you think of anyone who’d want to kill her? A colleague at work? An old boyfriend? Anyone?”

  “Not that I know of,” he answered. “But I don’t know if they even tried to find someone else. As far as they were concerned, I was the only person with a motive to kill her. They based the whole prosecution on an argument our neighbor overheard one morning about her working so late all the time. The day she heard us arguing wasn’t even the day she got killed, but no one seemed to care about that. I can only think that whoever killed her was there waiting for me to leave. She must have died while I was going down the elevator.”

  “So, do you have any enemies? Anyone who would want to see you suffer?”

  He sighed. “I’ve wondered about that too, but I’ve never done anything wrong. I’ve never even been arrested for anything. I can’t think of one person who would do this to me. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Anger at the unfairness of it all seethed in him. He almost wished he’d killed someone in cold blood, just to make it right. The only time he’d come close was that car accident he’d been in a few years ago. A woman who was drunk had run into the street right in front of him and he’d hit her. She’d died in his arms and it had taken him months to get over it, even though it wasn’t his fault. He’d been cleared of any wrongdoing, but it had left a mark on him. After that he knew he could never take someone’s life. When he’d been charged with murder, he’d considered committing suicide, but he couldn’t even bring himself to do that.

  He glanced at me, wondering why I was really there. What did I hope to gain from talking to him? He understood Billie’s involvement. Was I a writer too? Maybe I was planning to write a bestselling novel and get rich off his story.

  “If either of you ever write anything about me,” he said, glancing between us. “Make sure you keep the part in there that I’m innocent. Okay? If nothing else…at least give me that.”

  Billie nodded and said, “Of course.”

  I caught his gaze and nodded. “I believe you’re innocent. I can’t guarantee anything, but I’m going to try and find out who the real killer is.”

  His eyes widened, before he huffed out a breath and shook his head. “That’s a first. What makes you think you can do that?”

  “This is Shelby Nichols,” Billie spoke up. “She’s a private investigator and a really good one too. If anyone can do it, it’s her.”

  Wow, did she just say that out loud? That was sure nice.

  “Is there any way you can do it before a week from Friday?” he asked, a surge of hope lighting up his eyes.

  “I’ll do my best,” I said.

  He held my gaze and then nodded. “Well, I can’t ask for any more than that.”

  Billie was about to tell him that I had a lot of motivation since I was in a similar spot, but I spoke before she could get her mouth open.

  “One more thing…does the name Sam Killpack mean anything to you?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Sorry, never heard of him.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” I stood. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, but we’ll keep you posted.”

  As the guard took him away, I hoped I’d done the right thing telling him I’d try to save him. It had given him hope, and if I couldn’t do it, I didn’t know if I could live with myself. Billie waited until we were out of the prison before she asked me all the questions on her mind. Luckily, I knew what they were so I was prepared with answers.

  “What made you decide he was innocent?” she asked first. “Sometimes sociopaths can sound innocent when they’re not.”

  “He’s not a sociopath,” I said. “He’s telling the truth. He didn’t kill her.”

  “But how do you know?” she asked. “I mean…I have a hunch that he’s innocent, but that doesn’t mean he really is.” The answer to this was important to her. She had hunches lots of times, that’s what made her a good reporter. But knowing something was a lot different than having a gut feeling about it.

  “I just do,” I answered simply. “My premonitions are what make me so good at this job.”

  “So that’s it? You’re basing everything on your premonitions?”

  “Yes. They haven’t let me down so far.”

  “So, you’ve never been wrong?”

  “Nope,” I said. “Not even once.”

  “Wow,” she exclaimed. “That’s so cool.” She was impressed, but she was also a little skeptical. How could anyone, even a psychic, be right all the time?

  She had a point, but I wasn’t about to make a mistake just to prove I wasn’t perfect. Besides, I liked being perfect, at least in this one area of my life.

  “What are you going to do now?” she asked.

  “I was thinking that I’d like to stop by and talk to the people at Rebecca’s office, and maybe the cleaning crew who found her. Have you already done that?”

  “Yes, I’ve talked to her co-workers,” she answered. “To be honest, I didn’t find anyone with a motive to kill Rebecca, but maybe you’ll have better luck.” She didn’t think I’d do any better, but didn’t want to say that out loud. “I’ve also talked to everyone in the cleaning crew except for the guy who found her. His name is George and I have his address, but he quit working there so I couldn’t talk to him when I talked to the others. I was thinking of going to his apartment. Do you want to come with me?”

  “Yes. That would be great. When are you going?”

  She shrugged. “We could go now if you like?”

  “Sure,” I quickly agreed.

  His apartment wasn’t in the best part of town, so Billie was grateful I was going with her. It made me wish I had brought my stun flashlight, but since we were going to the prison and I didn’t want it confiscated, I’d left it at home.

  “So how bad is it?” I asked.

  She glanced at me, her eyes wide with surprise. “Was that…did you just have a premonition? Because I was just thinking that his place wasn’t in the best part of town.”

  “No,” I improvised. “I just picked up that you were a little anxious about going there by yourself, and that led me to believe it wasn’t in the best part of town.”

&n
bsp; “Oh,” she said, disappointed. “Well, I am nervous, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.” She was thinking about the loaded gun she always carried for times like this. She’d taken it out of her purse and stashed it in the glove box before she went inside the prison, but now she needed to put it back. She could do that before we went inside, as long as I didn’t see her since she didn’t want to upset me.

  Oh great. As we drove into the rundown neighborhood, I couldn’t help the shiver of dread that ran down my spine. The fact that Billie was glad she had a gun made it worse. It made me question my sanity for coming with her in the first place. Of course, nothing bad was going to happen. It was the middle of the day, and plenty of people were out on the streets. Although the harder I looked, the more I realized most of them were covered with tattoos and obvious gang insignias. It was enough to make me wish that instead of Billie, I had Ramos by my side.

  Billie found a place to park on the street in front of the apartment building where George lived. Three young men stood bunched around the door to the building having a smoke, and I wondered if we’d have to pay them a toll to get inside. I automatically opened the glove box and handed Billie the gun. “Maybe you should tuck it into your pants instead of your purse, just so you can get to it better,” I said.

  “Huh?” she said, glancing at me sharply. “How…did you…”

  I shrugged and she took the gun. She placed it in her purse, then strapped the purse over her shoulder to hang low enough so that she could reach the gun easily. “We’ll be fine,” she said again, letting just enough disgust color her voice to make me think I was being a pansy, but it didn’t work on me since I knew she was just as nervous as I was. “Let’s just go in there like we’re supposed to be here,” she continued. “Like we’re cops or something.”

  I wanted to tell her it was easy for her to say that since she was the one with the gun, but I just let out a big sigh and got out of the car. I held my purse tightly to my side so no one would get any ideas about grabbing it. Did cops even carry purses? Probably not. I was so screwed. I waited for Billie to come around the car and we started toward the apartment building together.