“Mr. Benedict, that night, which cab company did you use to get to St. Paul?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea. I can’t remember.”
Waverly cast a dubious glance in his direction. “I don’t suppose you mind my verifying your story with this Ballard woman.”
“Be my guest; she’s a very upfront sort of woman.” Benedict paged through an address book and pushed it across his desk. “Her number and address are right there. Help yourself.”
Once he’d transferred the information to his notepad, Waverly flipped to the ‘Cs’ without asking for permission. “Interesting,” he said. “I see you have both Hugh and Amy Conley’s numbers in here. Why is that?”
“Relax, Detective. It’s not like you just discovered the Dead Sea Scrolls. Now and then Hugh could be a little hard to track down. If I needed to get in touch with him, I’d give Amy a jingle.”
“And she could tell you where to find him?”
Benedict shrugged. “If I didn’t know, as often as not, she didn’t either, but it paid off once or twice.”
Waverly set his frustration aside and asked, “How much do you know about Conley’s personal life, his family, his marriage? I’m looking for anything that might help explain why someone wanted him dead.”
“I don’t know much. I do know his parents are well-heeled. His father’s got a corporate job with some big auto parts company in Michigan. No,” he corrected himself. “Missouri. Hugh didn’t talk about them much, but I do remember him saying that.”
“What about his friends and acquaintances?”
Benedict twirled a pen between his fingers. “I attended a few social gatherings Hugh and Amy had at their place. From what I could tell, each of them had their own small circle of friends. No overlapping. As for their marriage, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you there was a divorce in the works.”
“Was that common knowledge?”
“I don’t think Hugh went around broadcasting it. He had his pride—more than his share if you want the truth. He should’ve expected it to happen sooner or later. I guess it came sooner. Amy was bound to find out he was sleeping around on her. All the same, he went ballistic when the papers were served.”
“Why’s that? Was it about love, the alimony—what?”
“Hugh was a take-charge sort of guy. I liked that about him. In a business setting that’s a plus. On the home front, though, the few times I saw Hugh and Amy together, he took that trait to another level. He could be pretty overbearing.”
“Any chance you know who he was involved with—whether she was married—had a jealous boyfriend—that sort of thing?”
Benedict sat back, a smirk resting easily on his face. ”Hugh wasn’t involved with anyone. He had sex, not relationships. He paid for his liaisons.”
“You’re talking about prostitutes?”
“Strictly, according to him,” Benedict said. “Hugh didn’t want to chance any emotional attachment. Too many complications, he said. Plus, as Hugh was quick to point out, you get what you pay for.”
“He shared that kind of information with you?”
“He didn’t hold much back. We’d become friends as well as business associates.”
Waverly’s mustache twitched. “Doesn’t sound like the kind of guy you’d want for a partner.”
“Hey, Hugh’s private life was his concern, not mine. All that mattered to me was how much he could help me grow this agency.”
“Okay,” Waverly said, “I get it. So, a Fatal Attraction type of scenario doesn’t figure in. And no jealous husbands or boyfriends either, right?”
“I’d be very surprised.”
“Okay.” Waverly sighed. “What about his business dealings? Any chance he’d made an enemy of one of his clients?”
Benedict’s vehement headshake indicated absolute certainty. “When it came to dealing with customers, he was all charm—Mr. Charisma.”
“What about his interactions with your staff?”
“There,” he said, “Hugh spread his charm thinner, but there were no serious incidents. Minor squabbles. Certainly nothing that would get him murdered. When Hugh was killed, I took a hit. There’s no telling how long I’ll have to put off starting up that other office.”
“Seems to me you didn’t do so bad. In under twenty-four hours, you made a million bucks off him.”
“Let me tell you something. With Hugh onboard as my partner, I could have doubled my business, so the way I see, in the long run, I lost money.”
Waverly sneezed into his elbow and let the “excuse me” slide. “Rumor is you had his wife in your crosshairs. In fact, I hear you still do.”
“My, my, you do hear a lot, Detective.”
“It’s my job, Mr. Benedict. Level with me. Have you, let’s say, already bagged your trophy?”
Wearing a sly smile, Benedict leaned closer, lending an air of confidentiality to the exchange. “There’s a difference between flirting and a serious come-on, Detective. I don’t sleep with my associates’ wives. Not only would that be poor form; it would be incredibly stupid.”
“How about now that Hugh Conley’s gone?”
“Amy could do a lot worse than me,” Benedict said. “Obviously, she already had.”
Waverly eyed him through a squint—half suspicion, half oncoming sneeze. “Mr. Benedict, I’ve talked to people who know Amy Conley. I’ve heard you offered to pay for her legal fees. Why would you do that?”
“Because I can,” he said. “Besides, she’s innocent.”
“And you know that because…?”
“Because I know her.”
Waverly smirked. “Man to man, what percentage of your offer to help Conley’s widow comes from the milk of human kindness as opposed to milking her situation to get a leg-up into her bed?”
Benedict’s grin vanished. “Which of her friends suggested that’s what I’m after?”
“Which one knows you best?”
Benedict stood and checked his watch. “Time’s up, Detective. I’ve got a client coming in to discuss a new policy, but if you’d ever like to discuss your insurance needs, feel free to drop by anytime.” He offered his hand.
Smiling, Waverly sneezed into his right palm before reaching out to reciprocate the gesture. Mustache twitching, Waverly snickered as Benedict immediately pulled his hand back.
“Have yourself a nice day now, Mr. Benedict.”
19
“Good! I caught you at home,” Liz said as Amy answered the phone later that night.
“Where else would I be?”
“Did I catch you at a bad time or something, sweetie?”
“No, sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just going a little stir-crazy over here.”
“That’s exactly why I’m calling. I stopped and picked up a couple of pizzas on my way home from the hospital. I already called Jessica and Nicki and invited them over for supper. In fact, I think Nicki just pulled up. I decided a four-way get-together is just what you need.”
“Tonight?”
“Sure. You have something better to do?”
Amy looked through her front window. In the dimming light, she saw Ronald Retzinger sitting on the top step of the porch across the way. Elbows on his knees, he kept his eyes focused on her house. The idea of stepping beyond the protection of her home made Amy shudder. Ronald sitting there like a gargoyle, made her blood run cold.
“That sounds great, Liz, but—”
“No buts then. Get yourself over here.”
“Wait. How’s this for an idea? Why don’t the three of you bring the pizza over here?” Amy sounded less upbeat than she’d hoped.
“No way. You need to get out of that place before your feet take root in the floorboards.”
“I know, it’s just that…”
“Just that what?”
It made her feel foolish to admit it, but she said, “Ronald Retzinger has been sitting on his front porch, staring at my house for the last hour. It’s really got me o
n edge.”
“Want me to come over there and flash him? That’ll send him scurrying so deep into his little rat hole he won’t come out for a month.”
Amy couldn’t help but laugh. “The little pervert would probably drag you in there with him.”
“Let him try. Now, are you coming over or what?”
“I’d like to, but—”
In a voice oozing ‘foodie’ seduction, Liz said, “The pizza is from Red’s Savoy. Two, large, thin-crust pizzas—sausage and mushroom for you and Jessica—pepperoni and extra cheese for Nicki and me. Now, do I have to come over there and take you by the hand, or are you going to throw your shoulders back and march yourself down to my place like a grown-ass woman?” Amy responded with dead silence. “Okay, look… You stay put and I’ll come get you and walk you over here, or I could send Nicki. What do you say?”
Tough love sucked. Still, cowering in her house might be giving the teenager exactly the sense of empowerment he could be seeking.
“No, you don’t have to do that. I’m throwing my shoulders back as we speak,” Amy said. “I’m on my way.” Sighing, she slipped into her jacket and stepped outside, wishing she’d put a sweater underneath; the nip in the air had turned into a full-blown bite. As she went down the front steps, she saw Ronald get to his feet. At the sidewalk, she turned ninety-degrees to the right and began a brisk walk along her side of the street.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Ronald start down his front steps. Could he smell her fear? Wrapping her arms around herself for additional warmth, she walked at a still-brisker pace. Four doors down, barely ahead of him, Amy cut across the street to Liz’s house. She darted up the steps, knocked and let herself in simultaneously.
“Hi. It’s me.” Trying to get her ragged breathing under control, she followed the enticing aroma into the kitchen. “That pizza smells out of this world.”
“Hey, Ames,” Nicki said, wrapping her in a hug. “How’s it going?”
“Now that I’m here, fine. Thanks for inviting me, Liz.”
“Think nothing of it, hon. I’ve been battling a wicked pizza craving for days. Getting everyone together gave me a good excuse to give in to it.” She checked the pizzas being kept warm in the oven. “Jessica ought to be here anytime now. Park yourself. What would you like to drink?”
“I’m good. Oh, and thanks for leaving your door unlocked for me. I was in a hurry to get inside; Ronald followed me here.”
“That nervy little bastard.” Liz hurried to a window overlooking the street and peered out into the deepening darkness.
Nicki followed and looked over Liz’s shoulder. “I don’t see him out there. Maybe the two of you were just headed in the same direction and he kept going.”
“That could be, I guess. All I know is he gives me the creeps.”
A minute later, there was a knock on the door followed by Jessica’s voice. “Hello, I’m here.
Let the fun begin.” On her way to the kitchen, she disposed of her coat and purse on a mauve recliner in the living room. “Oh, that aroma! I hope you didn’t start without me.”
“It’s about time you got here.” Nicki complained.
“Oh, come on. I can’t be that late; Amy still has her jacket on.” Without missing a beat, Jessica went to Amy and gave her a hug.
Amy squeezed her hand. “You’re not late. I only got here a couple of minutes ago. You know how grumpy Nicki gets when she’s hungry.”
“Then she must be starving,” Jessica said.
“Yeah, sure,” Nicki grumbled. “You wish.”
Before Jessica could respond, Liz began issuing orders. “Jessica, grab a beer or whatever you want out of the fridge. And, Nicki,” she said, “get the pizzas out of the oven, would you? As for you, Amy, you look like you’re freezing. Get out of that jacket and sit near the oven; you’ll warm up in no time.”
Liz finished passing out a handful of paper plates and napkins as Nicki set the pizzas down on opposite corners of the table. “Okay, it’s every woman for herself. Eat up.”
Before the initial sounds of gastronomic ecstasy faded, the “elephant” in the room—a small herd, in fact: Hugh, Larry Benedict, Ray, and Dick Waverly—thrust them into an uncomfortable silence.
Jessica finished tucking a six-inch string of cheese into her mouth, then tackled the subject head-on. “So, what’s going on with the investigation, Amy? I don’t want to pry, but—”
Nicki tossed a crust on her paper plate. “If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…”
“I just thought it might help Amy to talk about it, Nicki.”
“And satisfy your curiosity at the same time, right?”
“Hey, cut it out,” Amy told them. “What the heck is going on with you two?”
“I’m the one on the receiving end,” Jessica said. “Ask the one taking the pot shots.”
Amy turned to Nicki for an explanation, but Nicki shut down with a sulky, “Forget it.”
“Well,” Amy said, “if we hadn’t gotten together tonight, I planned to call all of you later on with an update anyhow. Last night Ray stopped by.”
“Ray Schiller? Oh, baby,” Jessica said. “Fill us in on every sordid detail.”
Nicki’s slender nostrils flared. “If you want to hear about it, stop talking and let Amy get a word in.”
Jessica opened her mouth to retaliate, but Amy broke in, saying, “First of all, there’s nothing going on between Ray and me. He dropped by to see how I was doing—just a friendly gesture. While he was there, though, I sort of finagled him into changing a burned-out bulb on my second floor landing. It turned out that it was just loose.”
Nicki shrugged. “So?”
“I didn’t understand what was going on, but he went into the master bedroom and flipped the light switch. That overhead fixture didn’t work either. Ray found out that bulb had been loosened, too. He thinks Hugh’s killer unscrewed them.”
“Why would the son-of-a-bitch do that?” Jessica asked.
“To give himself the upper hand—maybe even to put Hugh at ease, thinking it was me he saw in the room.”
“Ray Schiller told you that?” Nicki asked.
“Not exactly.” Unaware she was doing it, Amy sat tearing her napkin into shreds. “I overheard Ray and Detective Waverly discussing it—that and how much time and planning it had to have taken for this lunatic to figure out how to kill Hugh and then frame me. I can’t believe how badly someone wanted him dead.”
The silence surrounding her grew more profound by the second.
“Wow,” Liz said finally, at a loss for words.
“Yeah,” Jessica said, grabbing another slice of pizza. “That’s incredible.”
Amy tossed the shredded napkin on her paper plate. “If the killer had tightened up the bulbs again, the set-up might’ve been perfect. Well, there were the shoeprints, too.”
“What shoeprints?” Nicki asked.
“They were on the storage bench Jess likes so much. You know, the one in the hall on the second floor. Ray couldn’t reach the lights without a stepstool and realized the killer would’ve had to stand on something, too. He checked the bench down the hall and found the shoeprints in the dust on the seat. It was embarrassing, but thank God I hadn’t dusted it in a while. Anyway, Ray got Detective Waverly and the crime scene people over there to document everything.”
Liz drew a napkin over her lips. “And I went and fell asleep in front of the TV and missed all the excitement. Anyway, that’s great news, hon. I hear they can tell a lot from that sort of thing.”
“Ray and Detective Waverly didn’t seem too happy. It sounded like the shoe prints weren’t in great condition.”
“It’s still something,” Liz said.
“Things are starting to look up for you.” Nicki added.
“Not as fast as I’d like. At least Detective Waverly is starting to give me the benefit of the doubt, or maybe I’m kidding myself.”
Amy and Liz began clearing the table as Nicki e
xcused herself to use the bathroom.
Jessica was on her heels as she walked down the hallway. “Nicki, hold up a second. How about telling me what’s going on? You’ve been sniping at me ever since I got here. And why haven’t you been returning my calls?”
“Like you care.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just let it go, Jess.”
“Look, whatever’s bugging you, I’d like to get it straightened out. Tell me what I did.”
Nicki sneered at her. “You really want to know?”
Jessica crossed her arms. “Would I ask if I didn’t?”
“I’m not about to explain it to you… not here, not now.”
“Oh, for crying out loud. Fine. Let’s talk it out over lunch tomorrow. We can eat at that Latin-Fusion place you’ve been telling me about. I’ll even treat.”
“All right. Pick me up outside the boutique at noon. I only get an hour for lunch, so be on time.”
Jessica returned to the kitchen and took the last slice of pizza from the cardboard tray Liz held out to her. “I should pass, but hell, what’s another bajillion calories?” She took a bite. “Liz, thanks for supper; it was great. I’d like to stick around longer, but I’d better get going.”
“What’s the rush?”
“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed—yeah, right—Nicki seems to have a burr under her saddle. I don’t know how or when it got there, but apparently it was my doing. In the interest of keeping the peace, I’m going to take off now. Nicki and I are going to hash the problem out over lunch tomorrow.”
“Good,” Liz said. “The bickering is putting a real crimp in our quality time.”
“Hey, Jess,” Amy said, “would you mind dropping me off at my place?”
“You’re leaving, too?” Liz objected. “It’s still early.”
“I know, but my head is pounding. Lack of sleep. Stress maybe.”
“Duh. Ya think?” Jessica said.
“How about it? Will you give me a ride?”
“Geeze, that’s a whole half block out of my way,” Jessica teased.
“I’ll pay for the gas.”
Liz gathered up the paper plates, saying, “She might not be joking, Jessica; she’s desperate.” She dumped the mess in a tall kitchen trash basket. “It’s the Retzinger boy. She thinks he followed her over here tonight.”
Targeted: A Ray Schiller Novel (The Ray Schiller Series Book 3) Page 12
