by Nick Vellis
I had all the facts I needed. I just needed something called evidence. As I drove the last few miles home, I watched in the review mirror as distant lightning lit up the western sky. There was storm brewing closer to home too. I knew what I had to do and how I’d have to do it.
Chapter 11
“Hi Ashton,” I said when she answered the phone.
“I told you not to call anymore,” she asserted. “Isn’t it enough I got Daddy to give you a job?” she said in a frosty tone. “We can’t see each other again.”
“I know,” I explained, “but we have some unfinished business.”
“I thought we agreed you’d drop everything. I don’t want to know any more.”
“Yeah you do, besides I have a job to finish. Afterward, I can turn it all over to Ward Barber.”
“Can’t you tell me what you have to say over the phone?” she said.
“Not really. There’s a lot to it. You paid me well to run this down. I owe you a full disclosure.”
There was silence on the line, and then she breathed a sigh of frustration “All right. I can be at your place in an hour,” she conceded.
“I’ll be waiting. See you then.”
Ashton hadn’t balked. I hoped what I was thinking was all wrong. I made one more call as I drove to the office.
A boisterous Saturday night crowd kept Dave busy behind the bar so he didn’t see me wave. Once up stairs, I crossed the office in the dark and made a beeline for my desk. I sat down, clicked on the lamp, and opened the bottom right drawer. There, next to a bottle of Old Overholt was my Beretta and the newly acquired Bersa Thunder .380 pocket pistol.
I grabbed the .380 from the drawer, checked the magazine, thumbed off the safety, and slipped the little semi auto into my waistband at the small of my back. I left the drawer open leaving the Beretta within easy reach. The bottle of rye was nearly empty, maybe a snort or two, but enough. I set up two glasses, split the last pour between them, and put the two shots in the center of the desk. I leaned back, put my feet on the desk to wait in the green glow of the desk lamp. The two shots of rye were screaming my name.
When the buzzer sounded forty-five minutes later, the two glasses were still untouched. Without a word, I unlocked the street level entrance. A few moments later, Ashton breezed through the door in a lacy yellow figure-hugging dress, as if nothing was wrong. She stood just inside the doorway. Her green eyes sparkled in the pale light, but it was hard to notice anything but her sultry figure. The sleek mini-dress’s fabric shimmered as she moved. It flaunted her assets, clinging to every curve from cleavage to upper thigh. The V-neck plunged to her navel, a single strap over her left shoulder seemed to defy gravity, and an oval cutout over her right hip competed for my attention with a metalwork pendant dangling between her melons. The dress was super short and left nothing to the imagination. She may as well have been naked and I’d take bets, underneath she was. She’d capped the outfit with a small yellow bag and matching stiletto heels that made her legs seem even longer than they were. She was dressed to kill and I was the intended victim.
“I interrupt your evening of clubbing?” I asked.
“Not yet,” she replied.
“I’ve seen that style on TV,” I commented. “It sure looks good on you. What’s it called?”
“It’s called body-con, but you didn’t ask me here to see what I was wearing, or did you? You sounded so serious on the phone. What’s up?”
“What’s that mean, body-con? I thought that was strictly for girls gone wild.”
“As if you’d know, it’s a body conscious dress – see body-con. The big name designers show them now. This dress emphasizes the body’s contours, but not everyone can pull off wearing it. It’s a trendy style, at least the name designer ones are.”
She tugged a bit at the hem, as if it would make a difference. The dress fit like a glove, a size too small.
“It sure is, but you have the body and the confidence to pull it off. I bet you can pull off just about anything.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said. “Can we get on with this? I don’t have all night.”
“Really?” I asked. “The last couple times you were here I thought you wanted to stay all night. You got me all hot and bothered. That’s what you’re trying to do now, isn’t it?”
“Come off it, Mac,” she said, “get on with it.”
“I’ve got a final report on your brother’s case.”
“Ah, why’s it so dark in here?” she took a couple steps closer. “Now I see. I’m glad we’re breaking up. You’re drinking again.”
“Breaking up, that’s rich, as if we were ever together. No, I’m not drinking. I’m thinking about drinking. I do that a lot. This is the last of it,” I pointed to the empty bottle on the desk “the last dead soldier.”
“You live over a bar. How can you say that’s the last of it?”
“I thought we’d share a drink. You know, have a taste from the same barrel together. What’d you say?”
“I don’t like that crap you drink,” she said.
“Don’t be a wet blanket. Come on over and sit down Ashton. Make yourself comfortable. You’ve been comfortable here a few times.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, take a seat.”
“This dress is made for standing, how about that report,” she replied. A hint of defiance had crept into her voice.
“Suit yourself.” I pounded back one of the shots and savored the feeling as the rough liquor burned all the way down. This could be my last drink. “Well, my report,” I began, “you see, I couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong. I sort of went on the wagon after I met your father. He shamed me into it, probably without meaning to, but I just couldn’t get a handle on this mess. Then it got bigger, the bodies piled up and I was nowhere closer to finding answers. For a while, I thought it was because I wasn’t drinking. Then it came to me. It was something Nancy Cameron said. It got me thinking of you.”
“You talked to her? You told daddy you were dropping everything.”
“I lied,” I said, “but you knew that. You talked to her right after I did.”
Ashton’s eyes flared and her eyebrows shot up for a moment. I knew I was right.
“No I didn’t,” she argued. Her eyes darted to the right, a lie.
“Ashton, that’s not true, but we’ll let that go for now,” I conceded. “See, Nancy said a lot, but only a thimble full of it was true. The more I thought about what she’d said, the more I began to see the way she’d shaded everything. It only made sense if you were involved. I’m sure giving me that idea wasn’t part of the plan.”
“What plan? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m sure you do. It started with a casual remark. You met your client, Nancy Cameron, at a party given by one of Stephanie Hunt’s friends. You were there and so was Sharon Greer. Maybe you put them together. What’s it called when people work together, collusion? When it’s a criminal matter, it’s called conspiracy.”
“I represent a lot of friends,” she said.
“You told me you didn’t know Sharon Greer or Stephanie’s friends, but you went to their parties. You had to have met them.”
“Ah, well Nancy Cameron isn’t a friend,” she objected.
“Oh, I’m sure she is now with that big judgment you got for her. How much of it did you get? You took a big risk suborning perjury,” I replied.
Ashton shot daggers at me, but the cues were there. “I never…”
I held up one hand to cut off her pathetic denial.
“When I realized you knew both sides in that lawsuit, I took another look at the order of events. I started to see how you might fit into things, but I couldn’t figure the motive.”
I picked up my white board and showed her my timeline. “It’s all here. I just couldn’t see it… because of you.”
“You must be drunk, you’re talking nonsense. So what if I knew both Nancy a
nd Sharon? I disclosed my potential conflict of interest. Stephanie introduced us.”
One point for the good guys, she admitted something, I thought. Now if I could just get her to cop to more.
“Conflict of interest isn’t the problem, but we’ll come back to that too. No, you see I remembered something else, something that put a whole new spin on this mess. I remembered your face when your father said he’d paid Greer $25 million. That’s a bundle of change in any man’s language. You weren’t shocked he’d paid, you were surprised by the amount.”
“What are you talking about,” she said as she came a few steps closer. She moved her bag to her left hand. I thought I knew what was in it, but hoped I was wrong.
“Sit down, sweetie, sit down, and have a drink with me,” I said.
“Get on with it, I’m not staying.”
“Your father picked a boozehound for a patsy and you fell right in line. Did you get the idea from him? What was it he said ‘your hands weren’t clean’. I didn’t understand what he meant, until this afternoon. Yeah, he used me, but you, you worked me over. You chewed me up and spit me out.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You, damn it,” I said swinging my feet off the desk. I kicked the bottle and it clattered to the floor and rolled out of sight. “I’m talking about you. You used me, and everyone else mixed up in this caper, you even used your father and brother, but I don’t understand why.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m seeing you for what you really are,” I said. “I can sense the truth in people through their eyes; it’s a sort of sixth sense for the truth. Did you know that? I watch people’s bodies, look in their eyes and I see truth. It’s a gift of sorts. After meeting you, I’ve learned I have to look at people’s actions too.”
I’d spent a lot of time with this woman, but I’d missed the cues. The trick was she never actually lied to me until this morning at her father’s place. So much of what had passed between us had been unsaid, and I hadn’t asked the right questions. I couldn’t see her lies and deceit because she never spoke the words.
She let lose a haughty laugh. “You’re making this up as you go along,” she said. “I fell in love with you. I still love you.”
She was right. I was making it up on the fly. I was dizzy from twists and turns in this case. It even had me turned around for a while, but as for love, well that was a different story. It was all in her lovely green eyes.
“Maybe you want to love me, but you already love something else more than you could ever love me - money.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re behind this whole mess,” I said. “You’ve plotted and manipulated your way through a stack of bodies - all for money.”
The fear I read in her dilated pupils told me I was right.
“Come on Mac,” she said in a shaky voice. “You can’t expect me to stand here and listen to you…”
“Shut up,” I shouted. I smacked the desk with my open hand. “You’ll listen and listen good.”
“OK,” she said. “I’m listening.” She crossed her arms and thrust her right leg forward. Waiting. Defiant.
“The lawsuit started things off. Let’s start there,” I said.
“I can’t talk about that, Mac, there’s a gag order on that case,” she said as she straightened her dress.
“No there isn’t. I got the low down on it less than an hour ago,” I replied.
I could feel her confusion as she wondered where I was getting all this. Her shoulders had slumped and she held her hands low in front of her. She knew the jig was up, but didn’t understand why.
“Mac, you can’t believe…”
“I told you to listen,” I chided. “You’re an expert in employment law. You would know the only kind of sexual harassment case that wins big involves wrongful termination and ‘egregious circumstances’. Claiming there was a rape would fit that wouldn’t it? There was no rape. You and Nancy Cameron cooked that up.”
“No, Mac, that’s not true,” she insisted.
Her words said no she didn’t, but her body language and her eyes said, oh, yes I did.
“You concocted the phony lawsuit with Nancy Cameron. Cameron’s rape claim made it a cinch Ocean World would settle. They made a good offer, but you took it to all the way to a verdict trying to squeeze out every penny.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted.
“Sharon Greer lost her job. That’s pretty tough on someone who owes over $48,000 in gambling debts.”
Her jaw dropped.
“How did you know?”
“Does your father know how much you owe your bookie?”
“You have to believe me, I didn’t…”
“Save it, the only thing worse than a compulsive gambler is a drunk. I guess you and I have those bases covered.”
Her lower lip quivered and her face and chest were flushed. It’s hell to get caught.
“The money you made off the lawsuit only put a dent in your tab with Luck Taylor, so you had to come up with a new scam. Is that why you killed him?”
“Mac, I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.” She was pleading with me now. Her face was slack and her eyes were dead. She knew there was nowhere to hide. I’d seen that look too many times before.
“Was it Nancy Cameron’s idea to lie about the rape or yours?”
“It was Nancy. She only told me she’d made the story up after the trial. I swear I didn’t know before.”
“The lawyer from Ocean World told you he’d find the truth some day. I guess he’ll get his wish.”
“I couldn’t help it. I…”
“What was it Ashton?”
“She threatened to tell daddy about my gambling losses,” she whispered.
"Next was the blackmail,” I continued. “You needed more money, so you put a shakedown on your own father.”
“Mac listen to me. I…”
“We already covered how you tried to convince me you didn’t know Stephanie well because you lived in New York and how that was a lie. A friend told me about seeing you at Stephanie’s home when your brother was out of town. You even spent the night a few times.
“You can’t prove…”
“You know about that, don’t you? You’re right I didn’t think I could prove it so I was going to bluff my way on that one. My friend had pictures on her computer that would prove it, but she’s dead, and her computer is missing, so you’re right. I didn’t think I could prove anything at all, but do you know what my friend did? She emailed the pictures to me before you had her killed. You’re right in here,” I said pointing to my computer, “dozens of pictures of you. Maybe we’ll find Nancy Cameron in there too. Want to see some of them?”
“No, ah, get on with it,” she fretted. She’d turned a bit pale.
“You knew Greer and Stephanie were lovers. You knew the general would never stand for that, and you held it over Stephanie’s head. You forced her to help you. You put Stephanie up to sending those blackmail notes to your father.”
“What, no I didn’t. It wasn’t that way at all.”
“The cops will pick Greer up any time now. We don’t have much time to get ready for them. Give it to me fast and we can make up a story that’ll work!” I said. “Why did you hire me?”
“My father…”
“Cut the crap. We crossed that bridge earlier today at your father’s place!” I shouted as I slammed my fist on the desk.
Ashton jumped at the noise.
“Why’d you hire me,” I demanded.
“Nancy found out about the blackmail,” she said almost in a whisper. “Then Stephanie was killed and I thought Nancy was double-crossing me. I wanted protection. That’s why I hired you.”
“That’s more like it,” I replied. “It’s funny Sharon Greer wanted to hire me for protection too. I guess it was from you.”
That wasn’t what I’d expected. I thought Ashton and Stephanie were
in it together. I had to think fast.
“What happened? What was the scam?” I demanded.
“It was Stephanie and Sharon, it was the two of them,” she assured me.
“What happened?”
She just looked at me.
“What happened,” I shouted.
“They were both into Luck for a bundle. They cooked up this idea to get money from daddy. Then Nancy gave Sharon some pictures of Cary with some woman. They showed them to Stephanie,” Ashton explained. “Stephanie only loved Cary for his money, but she wasn’t about to let someone else have him. Stephanie said she’d get Cary back no matter what and dumped Sharon. They had a terrible fight. Stephanie told me about their blackmail so she could cut Sharon out.”
“…and you told Nancy,” I clarified.
I’d been a dope. “You thought if Stephanie and Sharon pulled the scam you could get some of the money,” I said.
“Something like that,” she replied.
“Your father said Stephanie didn’t have the balls, but you sure as hell did.”
“Nancy got them back together and we planned to steal the money from them,” she continued. “When Stephanie was killed and Sharon dropped out of sight I assumed they’d had a lovers’ quarrel and she’d killed Stephanie.”
She wasn’t too far wrong. I had assumed the same thing. I’d guessed Sharon had killed Stephanie.
“Stephanie wasn’t the only Hunt that needed cash,” I said. “I doubt your father would be very happy about the gambling debts you had run up,” I said.
“How did you find out about that?” she demanded.
“A little birdie - oh hell, a guy I know called a guy who knows a guy with the New York syndicate. Owing six figures to certain a family doesn’t show up on your credit report, but it’s a heavy debt. If the State of Florida doesn’t get you for what you’ve done, the guys up north sure will. They hate a welsher, but they hate a player who brings them attention even more.”
“Mac, I can explain,” she said.
“Stephanie and Sharon had been partners in every sense of the word for years and cooked up a plan,” I explained. “Nancy or Stephanie told you the payout was for two million dollars. They’d demanded twenty-five million, and got it,” I said. “They didn’t tell you about the rest of the money, did they? That’s why you were so surprised this morning. That was a foolish move, Ashton. There is no honor among thieves.”
