"But why do you think he's here?"
"Trainer's taking over his case. He's one of Hovey's partners. I dropped by their offices this morning. There was a news crew there waiting, which means they're sure to move the meeting off-site, but my bet is it still will be here in Macon."
"You don't happen to have a photo..."
He pulled one out of his jacket pocket and handed one to her. "Actually, I have several. That's why I'm late. I had trouble getting the color printer to work. Take a good look. I don't want you approaching him if he shows up. Call the police. No, don't. They couldn't do anything, unless he does something first. Call me. Don't talk to him. Just get the hell out."
She'd seen DeSoto's likeness in the newspaper and on TV, but she wanted to make sure she knew exactly what he looked like. He appeared tame enough in the photo, almost nerdish. His hair was dark and curly, and he wore thick-rimmed black glasses. Pretty harmless looking, really. But then they said Ted Bundy was a handsome dude.
A waitress shoved plastic-sleeved menus at them. Jennifer ordered the grilled red pepper and Portobello mushroom sandwich from the "Today's Specials" clipped inside, not that she was particularly hungry, not anymore. Sam settled for an upscale version of a Philly cheese steak.
"Did you find out anything at Hovey's office?" Jennifer asked.
"They wouldn't talk to me about DeSoto, of course. Attorney-client privilege. The receptionist did say Suzanne Gray sometimes called Hovey at the office, but he didn't like being disturbed at work."
Jennifer nodded. Or having his staff and coworkers privy to his personal life, she suspected. Surely they all knew and most likely had socialized with his ex-wife.
"I went by to see Ruth Hovey," she confessed.
Sam took a sip of her water. "Why?"
"Don't get mad. I simply asked if she knew who Richard was waiting for the night he died."
"But you already know Suzanne—"
"She doesn't think it was Suzanne."
Sam cocked an eyebrow at her. "She thinks Hovey was seeing another woman?"
"Yes. But she doesn't know who."
He waited for her to go on.
"She thought it was me. She thought I was there to shake her down."
"Ah, geez, Jennifer." He shook his head.
"It's all right," she assured him. "I explained that... actually I didn't tell her anything except that I didn't know her husband."
"Did she believe you?"
"I'm sure she did. I didn't take the check. That had to convince her. Lord only knows how much money she was willing to pay me to keep it quiet. Sam, are you sure Hovey never mentioned anything about a woman to you at all? I know not by name, but could he have alluded to Suzanne in some way?"
"Not that I remember. I'll have to check my tapes."
"Or maybe Kelli Byers?"
"Why would he mention that woman?"
"Teri and I were at the graveyard this morning and—"
"What the heck were you doing—"
Again, the bell jangled on the door and Jennifer looked up. Saved by the bell. Heck, the Belle. And she looked like hell, flustered, her face red and not just from the cold. She headed straight for their table.
"Someone's broken into..." she took a deep breath. "Sam, I got back to your apartment, and the lock was broken... I..."
Sam was immediately on his feet. Belle put her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. Gently he grasped her shoulders and pushed her back. "What's going on?"
"Your apartment. Sam. What if it was DeSoto? What if he..."
Sam grabbed his coat off the chair. "Jennifer, you stay here with Belle."
"No," Belle insisted. "I'm coming with you. Sam, I'm scared."
"Then why didn't you go to the police?" Jennifer muttered.
"What?" Sam asked.
"I said, why don't we go to the police?"
"They won't be able to help," Belle insisted. "There's nothing to tie DeSoto to anything that's happened."
"There's you," Jennifer said.
"No!" Belle shrieked.
Sam put an arm around her and shuffled her toward the door, leaving Jennifer to deal with the waitress who had miraculously appeared with both their orders. She pulled her last twenty out of her wallet and laid it on the table, and without a word followed after them.
Fuming, Jennifer brought up the tail end of their caravan to Sam's apartment, her fingers cramping around the steering wheel. Whatever danger Belle was in had just spilled into Jennifer's world, and she didn't like it one bit, especially all that hugging and comforting that went with it.
And as far as Jennifer was concerned, Belle no longer had any right to call the shots, not when Sam's personal safety and that of his property were involved.
Sam led the way into his parking area. He pulled his Honda into a space in front, and then Belle snatched the last space with her Miata. Jennifer had to go all the way down to the end and park in the row facing the street. They were waiting on the steps when she finally arrived, looking for all the world like a couple—Belle standing right up next to Sam, her hand resting on his chest, his arm, once again, around her.
They trudged up the stairs, no one saying a word, and finally got a look at the damage. The door frame was splintered at the lock.
"Looks like they used a crowbar. On hundred-year-old wood. Why didn't they just kick in the damn door? Did you go inside?" Sam asked Belle.
She nodded.
"You know better," he chastised her.
"I do. I'm sorry. I panicked."
Really? Panic in Jennifer's book meant to run away, not run toward.
Sam barely touched the door and it swung inward. The room looked normal, as though it hadn't been touched. He motioned for them to stay put, while he slipped into the bedroom, then the bath, and finally the kitchen. He came back into the living room shaking his head. "I don't get it."
"I know," Belle agreed. "Nothing's been touched, except..."
"Except what?" Jennifer asked.
"My things. In the bedroom. They..."
"Someone dumped Belle's bags all over the bed. Did you notice anything missing?"
Belle shook her head.
"Then why?" Jennifer asked.
"My guess is to see who they belonged to," Sam said.
Belle nodded. She looked as if she was near tears. She seemed to be blinking and swallowing a lot.
"I need something to drink," Belle announced. Then she disappeared into the kitchen.
"Check your desk," Jennifer ordered as soon as Belle was out of earshot.
"Why?" Sam asked.
"This wasn't a burglary. You're assuming DeSoto was here, hoping to find Belle or at least to make sure she was staying here. Whatever. You're probably right. But check your files. It's no secret that Hovey had asked you to collaborate on his book. DeSoto may want to make sure no client privilege was broken, that you don't know something that might hurt his new trial."
Sam went to his desk and dug into the bottom drawer. He pulled out a manila envelope and shook it. Nothing. Then he drew out a folder and held it up. It, too, was empty. Jennifer peered over his shoulder. Richard Hovey was written across both the envelope and the tab of the folder.
"He got the tapes and the notes," Sam stated.
"What's going on out there?" Belle called from the kitchen. She came out drinking straight from a carton of orange juice.
Jennifer dashed into the kitchen and came back with a glass. She snatched the carton from Belle, poured her a cup, and handed it to her.
"Getting all formal on me?" Belle noted, seeming far more composed than she'd been a minute ago. "Sam drinks from the carton."
Oh, yuck. Could this get more icky? Of course it could.
"What are you doing?" Belle asked Sam, looking over his shoulder.
"My notes and the interviews with Hovey seem to be missing."
"Then it must have been DeSoto," Belle said. "He knows I'm here, and he knows about the work you did with Hovey."
/> Sam already had his computer on and was searching his files. "Okay. They got the computer files, too. Then deleted them off the hard drive."
"You're kidding." Jennifer set the juice carton on the coffee table and was immediately at Sam's side, staring over his other shoulder at the screen. "Sam, all that work. And now Hovey's dead.... Did they get anything else?"
Sam shook his head. "Not that I can tell."
"Bummer!" Belle declared, pouring herself another glass of juice.
Sam pulled out the bottom desk drawer and drew out a box of unlabeled disks. He took one from the back and held it up. "It pays to back-up your work." Then he slipped the disk into the machine, pulled up the files, and copied them onto another disk.
"Here," he said, giving the copy to Jennifer. "Hang onto this for me." Then he slipped the original disk into his pocket.
Jennifer let out her breath. "What could be in these files that anyone would want?"
"I have no idea." Sam switched off his computer and grabbed back up his coat. "You two, out."
Belle looked at him over her juice glass. "But I'm—"
"You heard me." He took the glass out of her hand and put it on the table. "Belle, you are now officially staying with Jennifer until further notice. I'm calling the police and I don't want you here when they arrive."
"At least let me get my clothes," Belle protested.
"Later," Sam said.
"But the police will know I've been staying here."
"Right. Because you have," Sam said.
"Are you going to tell them about DeSoto?"
"I don't know. They'll take fingerprints. His are in the data base."
Then he pushed them both out the door.
They stood outside looking at each other.
"Okay, roomie," Belle said, "I'll need a key to your place, unless you plan for us to be attached at the hip."
Right. Her fondest desire. Jennifer headed toward her car.
"And you need to know I shower in the mornings," Belle called after her, "and I—"
"Follow me." Jennifer climbed into her car. If there was a motel room to be had in Macon, Georgia, she was going to see to it that Belle slept in it that night.
Chapter 18
Why would anyone in their right mind schedule a convention of Jehovah's Witnesses in the middle of February in Macon? The guy at the front desk of the Best Western on the way home from Sam's apartment told Jennifer she might as well hang it up. It seemed as if all of them, plus a few spares, had booked every bed from the Quality Inn to the Hilton through at least Saturday. Belle wasn't getting a room until they finished their weeklong convention at the coliseum. Or she converted, whichever came first.
Somebody better find that DeSoto dude and soon.
Reluctantly, Jennifer led Belle on to the hardware store on Riverside and, a few minutes later, with freshly minted key in hand, unlocked the door to her apartment.
"No room at the inn, huh," Belle declared as they came in the door.
Jennifer grunted, and Muffy had a new-person-to-play-with fit, displaying truly atrocious, bad-dog manners. It brought a naughty smile to Jennifer's lips.
"Could you tell her I don't like dogs?" Belle asked, shoving Muffy off her for the second time.
"Better let her lick you," Jennifer warned. "You want to let her get to know you. She's a guard dog." Well, she was, sort of. Just a sweet, well meaning guard dog.
Belle screwed up her face and allowed Muffy to slobber all over her hands. "Is this really necessary?"
"Oh, I think so."
Jennifer tossed the new key on the table. "Okay, that one's yours. Make sure you lock the door each time you leave and each time you come in. Don't drink from anything in my apartment except a glass. Wash up after you use any dishes; there's one of those sponges with the liquid soap in it next to the sink. You're welcome to whatever I have in the fridge, but be forewarned this is a vegetarian household. Oh, and I shower first in the mornings. No using my shower cap."
When Jennifer paused, she saw Belle wiping her hands on the back of her pants. Muffy had lost all interest and was pouting. She, too, had discovered that Belle was no fun.
"You can sleep in my bedroom. You'll find fresh sheets in the hall closet." It galled her to give Belle her bed, but she wasn't about to leave her in the living room with her computer. "I go to sleep at eleven, so I'd appreciate it if you did, too, or at least if you would quietly retire to your room by then."
"Anything else?"
"Oh, I'm sure I'll think of several elses, but right now I've got something I've got to do." And with that, Jennifer headed right back out the door. Belle would be safe while Jennifer took care of a little business that was begging to be finished, and Sam had said nothing about not letting Belle out of her sight.
"I wanted to let you know Sam took the black dress to the medical examiner's office," Jennifer said.
Marjorie held open the screen door and waved her inside as she dried her hands on a dish towel. "You've caught me on the tail end of washing up the lunch dishes. Vic was late getting in today. One of the cows got her head caught in some barbed wire, and he like to never got her out. I may have some coffee left. Want some?"
Jennifer shook her head. It wouldn't do well on an empty stomach. "Thanks but I'm all right."
"Suzie!" Marjorie sang out. "That girl was here just a moment ago. Turned my back to open the door and off she went. She was supposed to do some laundry for me. Well, that can wait until after you're gone. Is there something else I can do for you?"
"I just wondered if you'd received Suzanne's belongings."
"About nine o'clock this morning. All neatly folded, like they were ready for her to shake out and hang back up." Marjorie shook her head and swatted at her eyes with her dishcloth.
"Did you recognize the dress?" That's really why Jennifer had come by, in hopes of getting a look.
"Oh, yes. It's the one I thought it was. She wore it all the time, only during the summer. It's way too cold for it now. She always looked like an angel in it. You want to see it?"
Jennifer nodded.
Marjorie led her down a narrow hall to a small back bedroom. "When she sang in church in the summer time, she'd usually put it on." She pulled open the drapes. The items were laid out on the single bed. The dress, the gloves. In a small plastic bag were small pearl earrings, an anklet with a tiny enameled bird hanging from it, the blue ribbon, and a watch with a bracelet band. Her hose and underwear were in another. Her shoes in a third. The note in yet one more.
"Is this all the jewelry she was wearing?" Jennifer asked. "Hadn't Richard given her an engagement ring?"
"None that I ever saw, but they were keeping things quiet. What with the reaction I got from his family, I imagine he was smart enough not to stir up any trouble until after they'd actually tied the knot."
Jennifer picked up the bag with the shoes in it. Slick and clean as if they'd just come out of the box. Not a scuff mark on either one. "Do you recognize these?"
Marjorie shook her head. "But I know where she bought them. They'd be a special order. Nine wide. I already checked the size. Those people who carry those kind of shoes in the stores figure a person don't much care if they're a little uncomfortable for the short time you'll wear them, but Suzanne had to have hers wide. She wouldn't settle for nothin' else."
Jennifer touched the bag with the jewelry. "What about this anklet?"
"Is that what it is? I thought it was a bracelet."
"Do you recognize it?"
Marjorie shook her head.
"I don't suppose you'd consider letting me borrow it?"
"Take it. I don't want the thing. I was thinking about throwing all of it out, but I know Suzie would have a fit. She's not good at letting go, but I can't bear to look at any of it. Maybe when she goes off to work tonight—"
"Don't throw Suzanne's things away," Jennifer warned her, slipping the anklet into her pants pocket. "I'll be glad to pack it if you've got a box. You could put i
t in the back of a closet, where you don't have to look at it."
She picked up the bag with the note in it. It was creased, of course, from where it had been folded but it lay open in the bag, easily read through the plastic.
Richard, I can't live without you. You're my life, my love, my death.
To whoever finds my body, let me find the peace in death that eluded me in life. Do not desecrate my body with an autopsy. Do not bury me, but scatter my ashes to the winds so I can become part of this earth and its promise of new life.
Suzanne Gray
Interesting. Richard got hardly more than a line. The disposal of Suzanne's body, more than three times as much. And her name was typed right up next to the last line, leaving no room for a signature.
"We met Kelli Byers last night," Jennifer said, looking up.
Marjorie shook her head. "I should have warned you about her. She lives just across the street, and I swear, she spends more time staring out that window than doing any of her own business. I hope she didn't embarrass you much."
"She called the cops on us. She thought we'd broken in."
"I know and I apologize. I had no idea she'd pull some fool stunt like that. Guess I should have called her and let her know you all were going down there, but the whole idea was to keep her out of it."
As if Kelli was about to allow that to happen.
"Did they return Suzanne's coat?"
"What coat?" Marjorie asked.
"I thought there might have been a winter coat left at the scene or in Suzanne's car."
"Her car's here. Vic put it out in the shed, but there wasn't any coat in it."
"And no shoes, I'll wager," Jennifer said, more to herself than to anyone else.
"I showed you her shoes already." Marjorie lifted the bag with the satin shoes.
"Right," Jennifer agreed. "And the flowers she was holding. What happened to them?"
"They gave them back to us, all right. Can you imagine, like they were something anybody might want? Vic threw them out in the trash can outside."
"You mind if I take a look before I leave?"
"If you want to go messin' around in my garbage, I suppose it's all right so long as you clean up after yourself. Why are you so all-fired interested in all this anyway? I tell you what you should be doin' and that's realizing that Sam Culpepper has quite a thing for you. He may be living with that other woman, although I can't imagine what he sees in her exceptin' maybe the package she's wrapped in, but, honey, I saw the way he looked at you. I'd stake my money that it's you he's crazy about."
Dying to Get Her Man Page 11
