A Deadly Fall

by Carol Lee

  “I don’t know. But we should have enough to bring him in.”

  “Let me call Eleanor to see about the videos. Can you find Jack?”

  “I’ll look up his cell phone records. I should be able to find him as long as he’s still using his phone.”

  “Great. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

  I hung up and called Eleanor. I was too wired to drive during any of this, so I sat in my car in the parking lot.

  “Marissa, what’s up?” she asked as soon as she answered.

  “It looks like you were right, the first ticket was probably used by Jack’s brother, Mark Greene. Can you send the surveillance videos to the detective working this case? I think it’s becoming an open case finally.”

  “I’ll need them to submit a formal request, but that shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll keep them handy so I can get them sent over as soon as the request comes in.”

  “That’d be a huge help. I’ll get the detective in touch with you.”

  “Glad I could help!”

  I called Sam back and told him what Eleanor would need.

  “Not a problem. I’ll open the case first thing in the morning and should have the videos by the afternoon,” he told me.

  “Were you able to find Jack?”

  “No. His phone hasn’t been used since he was home. And he hasn’t purchased another one. He could be using a disposable. He might be suspicious that we’re onto him after the way the will went and your conversation with him. Be careful, Marissa. He might be coming for you. You saw him after the settlement of the will.”

  “I will be careful,” I promised.

  ***

  I was thankful the next day was a Friday and I didn’t have any classes to teach. I made myself go to yoga in the morning before breakfast to try to get myself centered and calmed down. I felt great coming out of the class, but was annoyed to see a flat tire on my car. I’d been so preoccupied, that I hadn’t been paying attention to the normal day to day things.

  I opened the trunk to get the jack and spare tire and was squatting down when I felt a hand grab my arm. I was spun around and was face to face with Jack.

  “You’re getting a little too close for comfort,” he said, bringing my face inches from his own. “That life insurance policy was mine. The house I’ve been living in for years should be mine!”

  He glared into my eyes and I was terrified.

  My phone rang in my pocket.

  “Answer it,” Jack demanded. “But don’t let anyone know I’m here.” He pulled a knife out of his pocket, threatening me to act normal.

  I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Sam calling from his office, not his cell phone.

  “Hi honey,” I answered, something I never called him, hoping that the change in my demeanor would encourage him to ask if everything was OK. I turned the volume down with my thumb so Jack couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, and I pasted a smile onto my face.

  “Marissa? Are you OK?” Sam asked immediately, making me calm down just knowing he knew me so well.

  “No, I don’t teach on Fridays,” I said with a smile still on, answering his question and offering more information that didn’t make sense to him, but would lead Jack to think it was a normal conversation.

  “Where are you?” he asked quickly. I could hear him typing, probably tracking my cell phone so he could get my exact location.

  “I just finished yoga. Just about to head home.”

  “OK. Should I contact the police and send them to your house?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great,” I said still smiling.

  “Perfect. I have your location pulled up. Keep your phone on and I’ll be able to see your movements.”

  “Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Always,” I said and hung up.

  “Good,” Jack said. “Get in my car. We’re going to your house.”

  I did as I was told. He must have been following me for days to know where I lived and to have found me at the gym.

  When a text came through on my phone, Jack again told me to answer it. He didn’t want anyone to think I was in trouble. Police are on their way, the text said from Sam. I pretended to write back, but instead turned on a voice recorder in case I could get Jack to admit what he’d done.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Jack.

  “Don’t play dumb with me,” he said angrily.

  “What do you mean? Why are you here?” I asked again.

  “You’ve been digging too much, Marissa. The cops called Sarah’s death an accident and you just couldn’t let it go.”

  “Because it wasn’t an accident, Jack!”

  “You know as well as I do that it was.”

  “No, it wasn’t. There were too many things that didn’t add up, so I looked into them. Sarah wouldn’t have gone hiking because she knew she was pregnant. And you knew that too! So you increased the life insurance policy, took her hiking when the weather was bad, and then killed her and dumped her body off the cliff, making it look like an accident,” I blurted out. I hadn’t meant to give away too much, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “How could I have done that? I was away in Wyoming for work from that Friday through Wednesday,” he said coolly.

  “You weren’t, Jack.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. It’s convenient you have a twin brother. And that you were going somewhere great for work. So you convinced him to use your ticket that was bought by your work, then you bought your own personal ticket and flew out the day after you killed Sarah.”

  “My alibi was checked out in the initial investigation. You think my boss would have covered for me?”

  “You had a colleague cover for you,” I said, thinking quickly.

  “You just can’t admit that Sarah wasn’t as careful as you thought!” he shouted at me. I had hit a nerve.

  “No, you just can’t admit that you never wanted kids, and this was the only way you could not have them! You couldn’t give up on your marriage because you’d see that as a failure, and you’re not OK with that. So instead, you saw your only out as killing Sarah.”

  “I didn’t have to kill Sarah to get rid of the baby. I got rid of the other ones without killing her,” he admitted.

  “There were never any abortions. I’ve looked through her medical records. Does this mean you admit to beating her then?”

  “I never said any such thing,” he said, a slight shake in his voice. He knew he was walking on thin ice.

  “I read her journals! There are so many entries in them about you beating her—right before her miscarriages. I don’t know why she stayed with you!” I knew I was getting closer to him revealing more.

  “You think that’ll hold up in court?”

  “No, but her autopsy results showing old bruises will. And that you increased her life insurance policy. And there were plenty of witnesses to your anger when you found out she’d changed the benefactor.”

  We pulled into the driveway and I was thankful to see that there was no police car in sight to make Jack suspicious. They either weren’t here yet, or they’d had enough sense to stay hidden. I crossed my fingers for the latter.

  “Get out,” Jack demanded.

  “What are you bringing me here for?”

  “We’re going to set me as the benefactor for everything you own, and then you’re going to disappear so I’ll finally get what belongs to me.”

  “Let me find my keys,” I said, digging around in my purse, giving the police more time to arrive if they weren’t already here.

  “I’ll break the door down if you don’t find them—”

  “Got ‘em!” I said, holding them up and smiling.

  “Good, open the door.” He followed closely behind, gently pushing me forward.

  I rattled the keys. I hoped I’d open the door to police ready to arrest Jack. I wanted to let them know I was coming. I turned the key and slowly pushed th
e door open, waiting for the moment of truth.

  “Where’s your computer?”

  “In the kitchen,” I said louder than necessary.

  I led the way toward the kitchen and kept a straight face when I saw a cop standing just inside the kitchen door. I didn’t break my stride and Jack followed me straight in.

  “Jack Greene, you’re under arrest for the death of Sarah Greene. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one—”

  Jack finally snapped out of the shock of the trap he’d walked into and turned to me, seething. “You bitch!” he barked.

  He then turned to the arresting cop and told him, “I didn’t do anything here. You can’t arrest me.”

  “We got notice this morning from Detective Allen Davis that you’re a wanted man. We’ll be transporting you to New Hampshire immediately, where you’ll be turned over to the prosecuting officers.”

  “You haven’t won, Marissa!”

  I knew I had.

  Sam – May 2010

  “I’m glad you can be here for the end of this nightmare,” I told Marissa the morning Jack’s trial was set to start. It had been scheduled right after her semester ended so she moved quickly and we were living together.

  “I need to testify anyway. As long as you’re there, I’m staying,” she said calmly.

  “You know we couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “I know,” she said and got out of bed.

  We both showed, dressed and ate before heading to the courthouse together. We’d both be called as witnesses for the prosecution. Jack had officially been charged with murder and the case looked air tight, thanks for all of Marissa’s snooping.

  On the drive, I reminded Marissa to take her time and choose her words carefully when answering questions from the defense. They have a way with getting the information out of witnesses that they want so they can spin the story in favor of their client.

  But with all of the evidence—the video surveillance of Mark going through security and his credit card statements; Sarah’s medical records, journals and spending records; the recorded conversation between Jack and Marissa; and the eyewitness accounts of Jack’s anger at finding out he wasn’t the benefactor of the life insurance policy he’d created for Sarah—there was little doubt in my mind that he’d ever see the outside of a jail cell again.

  ***

  The trial lasted three days, and the jury issued their final verdict on the fourth. They found him guilty of murder in the first degree. He had planned and premeditated killing Sarah. The judge sentenced him to life in prison with no possibility of parole. It was the best we could have hoped for.

  “Thank you for not giving up on me,” Marissa said as we drove home from the sentencing hearing.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I think a lot of people would have just written my suspicions off. Sarah was my little sister, and I was supposed to take care of her. This could have just been seen as me taking care of her and a conspiracy theorist at work. But you helped me find out what really happened.”

  “That’s what you do for the people you love,” I said without thinking.

  “The people you what?” she asked, turning to look at me.

  “The people you love,” I said again, intentionally this time. “Marissa, I love you.”

  She didn’t say anything back, but I didn’t need her to. She’d moved in with me and if she hadn’t reached the point where she was ready for that verbal commitment, I could wait. For now, I was reassured enough that she had found justice for her sister.

  My phone rang and I answered it. “Hello?” It was coming from a number I didn’t recognize.

  “Sam,” Judy said from the other end. “What happened with Jack’s sentencing?”

  “He was convicted and sentenced to life in prison with no parole,” I told her happily.

  “That’s great.” I could hear the relief in her voice. “But I have a problem.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I think someone’s trying to kill me,” she said, and the line went dead.

  About the Author

  Carol lives in New England with her husband, her trusty and awfully energetic brown lab and her beautiful rescue cat, Bear who has no tail. She likes to write cozy mysteries novelettes and short stories perfect for the busy person on the go. When she’s not working on her next mystery you can find her hiking, gardening or spending time with her family.

  One Last Thing. . .

  Don’t miss your chance to join my FREE Cozy Mystery Book Club! Receive updates on New Releases, promotions, clearance sales, and even have the opportunity to receive ADVANCED REVIEWER COPIES! Stay connected and join my Loyal Reader Update List here- http://carolleebooks.com

  Other books by Carol Lee

  Stay tuned… the sequel is coming soon!

  In the meantime, please enjoy a complimentary first chapter from Dead Write

  CHAPTER 1

  The ride to the police station in the back seat of the patrol car was not the way I had described it in my recently published book, Death by Grammar. Write what you know, we amateur novelists are told, and what did I know but grammar? The murder bits I'd made up—not terribly well, evidently, as I had failed to imagine all the grim details of a police car interior, and the whole process leading up to the humiliating trip.

  It really was all Ryan's fault, I decided, alternating between glaring at him and stroking his emo haircut—isn't 24 a little old to be dressing like Justin Bieber?—as he threw up into my evening bag. If Ryan hadn't brought his silly sword to the party and had it stolen, well, why not back all the way up and simply say if Ryan had kept his nose to himself and not read my manuscript.

  Ryan heaved again, which really was a terrible pity as the bag had been my one girly accessory in the otherwise drab garb of Georges Sand, mid-19th century cross-dresser and male-writer-impersonator. Since I was impersonating a writer, what better costume to wear to my publisher's ball?

  But I'm getting way ahead of myself, so I tried to focus on the events of the evening, suspecting I was going to need every bit of concentration I could muster, which was predictably little, under the circumstances.

  “Aunt Bev, what's going on?” Ryan mumbled pitifully from my lap where his head now rested, sweaty and heavy and somehow childlike.

  “We're on our way to the police station,” I said, cheerfully, feeling a little like Mr. Rogers on acid. “Just routine questioning and paperwork, I assume. Just relax, sweetie. This won't take long.”

  One of the uniformed officers glanced back at us through the bulletproof Plexiglas partition and nodded. I smiled, and looked quickly away, feeling as though he would see even a slight facial expression as an admission of guilt.

  I looked back down at Ryan, thinking of all the times I'd held him like this, ever since he was dropped on our doorstep following his parents' horrific automobile accident. I still remember that stolid little eight year old, standing with his book bag and his stuffed giraffe, his father's sister, who had been babysitting him when the accident occurred, looking everywhere but at us as she stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders, arms extended, and explained that she traveled for work and couldn't look after him properly until his parents got home.

  What drifted unsaid in the air between us was “if his parents ever come home.” Which seemed highly unlikely as they were both in critical condition.

  “Come in, Ryan,” I said as warmly as I could, opening my arms to him. He hesitated, and then walked stiffly into them, his warrior's heart and his little boy's fear fighting for control; not crying and throwing himself at me was the best he could do, and I honored it by not weeping and gathering him into my arms like a baby.

  I think I became his mother in that instant, though Ron and I held out hope against hope that my sister and her husband would live. His Aunt Kelly, Ron, my husband, and I were
all the family Ryan had, besides his parents who lay burned and broken at the Morrisville Regional Hospital, both in critical condition, neither expected to live.

  My sister Ally and I had never been close, but for Ryan, I would have put up with Medusa herself. And as I noted, there wasn't much left on either side of the family.

  I don't know how Ryan might have turned out had his parents lived. They were hard partiers, both of them, and Ally's husband, Geoff, had been part of Ron's law firm, so there was plenty of money to fuel their country club, their trips to Bermuda, their big, cheerless McMansion. There was little time for Ryan.