“Tommy Preston is into money laundering?” Caitlin asked.
“Google top ten money laundering businesses, and then you tell me,” Dutch said.
“Is there enough here to send him away?”
“Like I said, we have to do some more digging, but from what I can tell this guy is going to go down hard. And I’m not just talking about jail time.”
She didn’t follow but she knew an explanation from one of the three special agents in the room would likely be forthcoming.
It was Spense who noticed her puzzled look and said, “Even if Preston isn’t directly involved in organized crime, if this is what we think it is, he’s cleaning cash for some bad dudes. And that means if Tommy goes down for this, his business associates are not going to want to take the chance he could bring them down, too.”
“We’re talking a professional hit,” Gretchen said. “Let’s assume Rose Parker Preston is the individual who sent me this memory card. If Tommy knows she has it, or if he simply caught her snooping around his business dealings, he’d have a solid motive for murder.”
“So we’re back to the self-defense theory,” Spense said. “But we still have to account for the apparent premeditation—Rose had a pouch sewn into her wedding gown in order to conceal a pistol. And she withdrew cash and transferred a large sum to the Cayman Islands suggesting a planned escape.”
“Maybe she knew Preston was dangerous so she wanted to be prepared.” It could be that simple, Caitlin thought.
“But then why marry the guy? Especially when she had to steal him away from her sister to do so.”
Gretchen. Always devil’s advocate.
“She tried to warn Lilly away from Tommy, but Lilly wouldn’t listen. So maybe Rose thought the only way to keep him away from Lilly was to hook up with him herself,” Caitlin fired back.
Dutch shook his head. “You guys are overlooking the obvious flaw in that argument. If Rose knew Tommy was dangerous, and she had evidence to prove it, she could simply have called me, or someone like me.”
“She didn’t have to marry the creep,” Spense agreed.
“Unless she didn’t have the evidence she needed until now. Not to mention her family background hardly predisposes her to trust the authorities. She might’ve struggled with whether or not to send it to us.” Caitlin was still stewing about how this fit in with the whole Pamela Jean story.
“What have you got on Pamela Jean?” Spense asked, apparently thinking along the same lines.
“Just this: There’s no record on any Pamela Jean—whether that’s a first and last or fist and middle name—admitted to Riverbend Memorial Hospital.”
“Even if she was admitted under a do not name, do not publish order, that would only apply to publicly accessible information. Protected records would still show her hospitalization,” Caitlin said. “But maybe she gave Rose a false name to add another level of protection—like those multiple layers of encryption Tommy used on his files. So the name per se is useless.”
“That may well be,” Dutch said. “But Riverbend is a small town and its hospital census was low. According to records, no female patient died of anything except the usual suspects in the past year—we’re talking cancer, heart disease, that type of thing. Furthermore, the hospital would’ve reported a victim of a beating to the police and there’s no record of any such report.”
“In other words, Rose made the whole thing up. She simply lied to her sister to keep her away from Tommy,” Gretchen said.
Caitlin shook her head. “Doesn’t add up to me. Why go to all that trouble to lie about a woman who was beaten to death—and potentially be found out—rather than simply warn Lilly to keep away from Tommy because of his bad business dealings?”
“Okay, let’s assume there might be a Pamela Jean. We haven’t found her, but that doesn’t mean we never will,” Dutch said. “You seem to be looking for proof that Rose isn’t guilty of more than self-defense and poor judgment. But what if she did plan to shoot Tommy? Lilly insists that Rose is devoted to her—to the point of smothering her. And that she was determined they open a yogurt shop in California.”
“Yoga studio,” Spense said.
“Your point?” Caitlin asked Dutch.
“So maybe—just hear me out—Rose steals Tommy because she’s desperate to get him away from Lilly. Maybe because she’s trying to protect Lilly, or maybe because she just wants to keep Lilly all to herself and carry on with their plans, or maybe both. She decides to murder Tommy and make it look like self-defense.”
“In an underwater shootout?” Caitlin did not buy that. “Unless she plans to do it later, back at the hotel. Then Tommy catches on and tries to drown her before she can do her worst. Rose shoots him, in self-defense for real, to keep him from drowning her.”
“Except if her motive was to get Tommy out of their lives, she’d have no reason at all to marry the man. She could’ve just killed him,” Gretchen threw in.
“But then she wouldn’t get the life insurance,” Spense said.
Caitlin wondered if anyone else had a headache.
Spense dragged a hand through his hair. “Let’s stick with what we know. A. Tommy Preston is a very bad dude, Pamela Jean or no Pamela Jean. B. Whoever sent this memory card is in grave danger if he finds out . . .”
“C,” Caitlin said. “Lilly Parker is in love with Tommy and somebody, other than her sister, needs to warn her off him.”
Gretchen frowned. “That someone doesn’t have to be you.”
“I think it does,” Caitlin said. “She hasn’t met either you or Dutch, and she doesn’t trust the police. I’m practically a civilian.”
“Five and one half hours.” Dutch held up his wrist to indicate the time as they headed for the door. “And there’s one other thing. We didn’t find Pamela Jean, but we did find a nurse, Jessica Prosper. She filed a complaint with the Riverbend PD against one Anna Parker around six months ago. The police were unable to locate anyone by that name—no surprise there, so they didn’t follow up further. We have an interview with Nurse Prosper set up by teleconference later. If anything interesting comes of it, you want me to buzz you or hold onto it?”
“What do you think?” Spense said. “See you in five and one half hours.”
“Count on it, brother.”
Chapter 29
Sunday
Road to Taravao Plateau
Tahiti Iti
Tommy prided himself on being a man of his word, and it seemed he was also generous to a fault. Today was Lilly Parker’s last on earth and he’d indulged her beyond reason. Not only had he pampered her during sex this morning, he’d waited nearly two hours for her to get ready for their day trip without uttering a single complaint. He’d stopped at every scenic overlook on the way and even agreed to wander down a trail dotted with wildflowers—holding hands for chrissake.
But now, the time had come to put an end to all the nonsense—and an end to both Parker sisters once and for all.
The ripped yellow vinyl of the diner’s booth squeaked as Tommy scooted closer to Lilly. He wrapped his arms around her and feathered kisses from her ear down along her fascinating neck.
She leaned her forehead against his and sighed.
Her breath smelled of coffee.
Though she hadn’t wanted the breakfast in bed he’d prepared earlier, by now, she’d declared herself famished. They’d stopped at the only eatery around, an unnamed mom and pop diner, which was really no diner at all.
The owners had installed three booths in a screened-in room added onto the front of their home and tacked up a cardboard sign that read “Breakfast all day. Last chance before the road ends.”
Of the three paved roads in Tahiti Iti, this was one of them. That, and the fact that Lilly said it was the way to Gauguin’s Gold II was about all it had to recommend it. In order to keep his marks from tripping over one another, her father had two phony treasure locations. This road was paved—up to a point—and lined with ancient trees and ro
lling green pastures, but Tommy preferred bustle above bucolic.
The diner’s stench of stale grease made him nauseous, so he nibbled at dry toast and sipped his orange juice while Lilly gobbled fried eggs, ham, and potatoes. She’d been happy enough until a few minutes ago. Since then she’d been emitting various little grunts and groans, and he noted she’d shredded her napkin into an embarrassing mess without regard for the fact the server would have to clean it up. He was sure her father, who understood the importance of presenting yourself well at all times, would not have approved. “You seem worried. How can I help?”
“You know me so well.” She went to work on his napkin.
He caught her by the hand to stop the madness.
“What if Rose doesn’t come?”
“She will. The spot I’ve chosen is too out of the way for her to have to worry about being spotted by the police.”
“But you did mention you were coming, too. Rose might not want to see you.”
“She wants to see you. And I’ve explained I’m prepared to intervene with the authorities on her behalf and pay for a good lawyer. We just need to work out the details.”
“She doesn’t trust you. She thinks you’re capable of . . . anything.”
“Once we’re face to face, and you’re there to mediate, I’m sure we can work things out. I need her assurance she won’t try anything crazy again. We have to clear up the misunderstanding between us. And Lilly, Rose simply must accept that you’re mine.”
She looked at him so earnestly he wanted to slap the stupid right out of her. “I’ll make her accept it.”
“I hope so.” He let go of her hand. “Rose has gotten ahold of some bad information from somewhere about my character. I can’t say I’m of a mind to forgive her, but I am willing to forget, only because of how much you love her, and because of how much I love you.”
Her eyes watered, changing their color into the most astounding shade of green, reminding him that he’d once found her quite desirable. Too bad she and Rose had made such a mess of things and forced his hand. “I have to believe that somewhere in that mixed-up brain of Rose’s she thought she was protecting you. But she mustn’t try to interfere with us anymore.”
“Not interfere, sure. In fact, I think it would be a good idea for Rose and me to see a counselor—do you think we’re co-dependent?”
He clamped his teeth to keep from bursting out laughing. Co-dependence was an understatement. From the womb on there’d been no boundaries between Rose and Lilly. When they weren’t fighting like cats and dogs they were braiding each other’s hair and up in each other business like nine-year-old girls at a slumber party. “Not in the least. You’re the sanest woman I know.”
“So you don’t think I need therapy. What about Rose? I want you to be comfortable around her.”
“Perhaps.” Lilly was too foolish to be borne. Not only did she believe that he’d be willing to overlook the fact Rose had tried to kill him, she seemed to think he’d be open to having her over for Christmas dinner after a few therapy sessions. “But don’t worry. We’ll work it out . . . somehow.”
In fact, he had things worked out nicely already.
While Lilly had gone to wash up, he’d dosed her orange juice with enough heroin to kill a horse. He’d used a very generous amount, since the drug is absorbed slowly when ingested by mouth. The heroin would be converted to morphine in the body and then cross the blood-brain barrier. The onset would be slow but sure and missing the euphoria of the usual methods of administration. But he needed Lilly awake and cooperative, at least until he could get her to the meeting spot. If it turned out he hadn’t given her enough dope, though he was quite certain he had, there was plenty more where that came from. He wasn’t taking any chances with his plan.
He needed both women under his control in a remote location.
Because neither of them was going to walk out alive.
“Excuse me, love. But I need a refill on my coffee. I’m going to hunt down our waitress. Want anything while I’m up?”
Lilly shook her head.
“Drink your juice, dear. You need your vitamins.”
“I’ll be peeing all day.”
“Won’t we both?” He motioned to her juice.
She lifted her glass, then mouthed a cheers.
He turned away with a smile and headed for the next room where he found the waitress lounging with propped feet. “More coffee please.”
She jumped to attention and he held up his hand. “Please, take your time. And may I ask a favor?”
“Yes. I’m happy to help my customers if I can.”
“A friend of mine is coming by, but she won’t arrive for a while. She’s a diabetic and she needs her medicine. Will you be sure she gets this? Her name is Anna.” He passed the server a small package he’d pulled from his pocket along with a one-hundred-dollar bill.
“I’ll give your friend her medicine. There’s no need for such a generous tip.” She took the box and waved off the money.
He pressed the bill back into her hand.
“I understand. You’re a good person. But allow me to thank you for such a lovely meal. Really, I insist. It’s very important.”
She looked at the bill, then back at him, and smiled. “Merci beaucoup. You are too generous.”
He knew that already. But what could he do? It was simply his nature.
“And more coffee please, when you get the chance.” He couldn’t forget the supposed reason for his venture to the back room.
The woman nodded again, still staring down at her hand and her unexpected good fortune, her blue eyes wide and moist.
It warmed him inside to see her happiness.
Virtue is indeed its own reward, he thought as he walked back into the dining room—such as it was.
When he saw Lilly, her back to him, sipping her juice, his lips curled in anticipation of what was to come.
It had been more luck than genius on his part that he’d become engaged to both sisters, but to his credit the way he’d played it out showed his smarts. He still had that insurance policy on Lilly. So if he played his cards perfectly he could have his cake and eat it too—murder-suicide.
The cops already viewed Rose as certifiable.
But if he made it seem that Rose killed Lilly and then shot herself intentionally, he couldn’t collect on Rose’s life insurance—since they were still in the provisional phase. Rose’s suicide so soon after obtaining the policy would render the benefits impossible to collect.
On the other hand, he and Lilly had taken out policies on one another more than six months ago—during their engagement.
In the event of Lilly’s suicide it would still pay out.
An overdose was perfect.
As long as no one could connect him with their deaths, he could collect three million each on both Rose and Lilly. He had all the money he needed already, but a good businessman didn’t squander an opportunity. And he deserved it for all the trouble these two had put him through.
But the game must play out precisely as he’d planned.
Lilly must kill Rose and then commit suicide.
It shouldn’t be too difficult to make that appear to have happened.
Lilly, he could lead by the nose. And once the drugs took effect she’d be no problem at all. He only needed to get her to the meeting place before the heroin kicked in.
The problem, however, was Rose. She was far from the crazy lady he’d made her out to be. Somehow, she’d found out about his business dealings and copied the SADIE file. And he had no idea what she’d done with the information. Rose was smart enough to have a contingency plan in the event of a disaster.
So before he got rid of Rose, he was going to have to get that drive from her and get some kind of assurance there were no copies. The one thing he couldn’t figure out was how Rose found out about SADIE in the first place. He kept his friends close and his enemies closer. Had someone tipped her off, or after living life in a family of con
artists, had she just developed that good of a nose?
He sat back down at the table with Lilly.
“Ready?” She still had a few scraps left on her plate, but the important thing was that her glass of juice was now empty.
“I’m stuffed.” She patted her stomach. “But I thought you wanted more coffee. And you barely touched your orange juice.”
“Changed my mind. And I’ve already paid. Let me make a quick trip to the john and we’ll get this show on the road. I don’t want to keep Rose waiting.”
He slipped into the restroom and pulled out the phone Rose had sent to Lilly.
Only one bar.
He typed his message, then hit send.
The sound of a tone signaled his plan going into motion.
Chapter 30
Sunday
Road to Taravao Plateau
Tahiti Iti
Anna, it’s me.
I hope you’ve found your way to Iti by now because I’ve left you a present.
Find your last chance before the road ends—to eat.
You’ll recognize the place because there is no other.
Screened in porch and the waitress is holding your package.
Tell her you have diabetes and collect your medicine.
Bring it and the thumb drive to Gauguin’s Gold II.
You have one hour.
So does Lilly.
If you’re late, she dies.
I can’t save her now.
Only you have the power to keep her alive.
The countdown begins now.
Tick tock.
Rose reread the message for the hundredth time, clenched her fists, and cursed under her breath. It had taken her almost six hours to cross the isthmus between Nui and Iti on foot. But at least she’d made it.
Countdown Page 21
