Final Appeal

by Joanne Fluke

  “Ebony Rose. She owned a nude dancing place on Sunset.”

  “Was that her real name?”

  “No, it was Dumont. She took the name Ebony Rose when she first got into the business. We’ve been trying to pin something on her for . . . Toni, I really think you’d better sit down.” Harry grabbed Toni’s arm and sat her down in the chair. She was shaking like a leaf in the wind. “You want me to call a doctor, Toni?”

  Toni swallowed hard. “No, Harry. I’m all right, really. I was just thinking about somebody jumping off the top of that mall. Heights scare me, Harry.”

  “Me, too. Just between you and me, I don’t think she jumped. She knew a lot of big people, and some of them aren’t exactly law-abiding citizens. You know what I mean?”

  Toni nodded. “Mafia?”

  “Oh, maybe not as big as that, but guys with enough money to arrange a convenient suicide if they thought she knew too much. She was playing in the big leagues, Toni.”

  “So you’re going to write it off as a suicide, Harry? To keep from stepping on any toes?”

  “Not me. You know how I feel about that, Toni. No one’s big enough to ignore the law. But I can’t guarantee what the boys who pull our strings are gonna do. If you’re sure you’re all right, I really have to get my tail in gear.”

  Harry was halfway to the door before he remembered what he’d stopped by for in the first place. “Toni?”

  “Yes, Harry.”

  “I’m expecting a package and Doris won’t be home until late. If UPS comes by, will you take it in for me? I left a note on my door.”

  “Sure, Harry. And thanks for telling me about Rosalie Dumont”

  Harry walked down the steps to the garage and climbed into his car. He was halfway to the precinct before it struck him. How the hell had Toni known Rosalie Dumont’s first name?

  “Hiya, Lenny. How’s it hanging?”

  Lenny stared at Eddie in absolute shock. He’d never thought the little creep would have the nerve to come back after what he’d done!

  “What’s the matter, Lenny? Your mouth’s open wide enough to catch flies. You must of thought I was never coming back, huh, Lenny?”

  Lenny snapped his jaw closed and dragged Eddie into the apartment. Then he realized that Babsie was here. He didn’t want her to hear the load of stuff he was going to lay on Lenny. “Babsie, honey? You suppose you could go in the bedroom for a minute or something? I gotta talk to my guy here in private.”

  “Sure, Lenny. You want a beer before I go?” Lenny shook his head. He was too mad to drink beer, and he’d sort of lost his taste for it anyway. As soon as the bedroom door shut behind Babsie, he threw Eddie down in a chair.

  “You little creep! Do you know how much trouble you made for me? Call off your guy right away!”

  “What guy, Lenny?” Eddie looked completely puzzled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Lenny lowered his voice. “The guy you called that night we were talking about Margo. You know. The hit man”

  Eddie frowned. “I didn’t call any hit man, Lenny. Maybe I’m stupid, but I’m not that stupid.”

  “Then who did you call that was such a big secret you couldn’t do it from here? Huh, Eddie?”

  “God, Lenny! You really thought I called a hit man? Let me go out and drag in that box I left in the hall. That’s who I called.”

  Lenny stared at Eddie to see if it was some kind of cop-out, but he looked serious. Was it possible he was wrong? Lenny nodded, and Eddie went to bring in the box.

  “Open it, Lenny,” he said once he’d set it down in front of Lenny. “It’s a present I got for you.”

  “What’s this?” Lenny opened it and drew out a DVD. The Untouchables?”

  “Yeah, Lenny, with Eliot Ness.” Eddie looked proud. “I met this guy who had fifty-five episodes. And I remembered you told me you loved it when you were a kid. That’s who I called that night, Lenny. Honest. I talked the guy into duping his whole collection as a favor for you.”

  He pulled over to the side of the street and parked under a tree. He’d never been this exhausted before. This whole thing was a terrible strain. He shut his eyes for just a moment and tried to push back the panic that threatened to render him immobile. He’d been fine a few minutes ago, looking forward to the point where all the loose ends were wrapped up. But now the hounds of panic were nipping at his heels again. What if something went wrong? What if he couldn’t find the last juror tonight?

  He forced himself to rest and relax. He wasn’t in any condition to drive right now, and he might be pulled over for a traffic violation. He’d wait a bit until the worst of the rush hour traffic was gone. Luckily, no one would notice him here. And if they did, they’d assume he was waiting to pick up someone at one of the factories that lined the street. Just a few moments and he’d be fine. All he needed was some time to collect his thoughts.

  The headrest felt good, and he leaned back against it. At last his body was beginning to relax. Now all he had to do was think about something pleasant. A kiss. Warm arms around his body. Sleeping under blankets, with someone he loved.

  Carole had been that someone. Beautiful Carole, with warm breasts and a warm heart. He’d loved her right from the beginning, but then she’d done something so treacherous, she hadn’t deserved to live.

  Night began to fall, but he didn’t notice. He was thinking about Carole and the time, ten years ago, when she’d told him that she was pregnant. She’d stood there, hips canted forward as if she were already heavy with child. She’d never looked more beautiful than she had at that moment. At first he’d been speechless, but then he’d recovered enough to ask if she was sure. And she had smiled the smile he’d thought was for him alone and said yes, the doctor had confirmed it. She was six weeks pregnant. Wasn’t that wonderful? She’d known that he’d always wanted to have a child.

  Choking a bit on the words, he’d asked the important question, the one that had decided everything. He hadn’t wanted to ask, but his obligation was clear. He had to know the truth about the woman he loved. Truth was the highest priority. Was she sure it was his baby?

  She should have been an actress. She’d done such a superb job of faking her injured outrage. Looking at him with wounded eyes, tears glistening in the corners. Of course the baby was his. How could he even think otherwise?

  He had left quickly, before she could see his reaction. Her lie had acted as an icy slap to make his mind function clearly again. So he had planned and waited. And then he had come back to put an end to all the lies. Only after it was done, as he had gazed down at her still-beautiful dead body, had he told her why. She had deceived him. The dead baby inside her dead womb was not his. He’d caught German measles when he was in law school and missed two weeks of his second year. It was all because Aunt Alice hadn’t believed in inoculations for older kids, just little ones like Mikey. The campus doctor had checked him out and given him the bad news. The virus had rendered him sterile.

  It was dark outside, but she didn’t get up to switch on a light. She was still sitting in the chair where Harry had placed her over an hour ago. This whole dilemma reminded her of the trial of some saint—she couldn’t remember which one—and she had to be ready to declare her choice. Ethics or love. Love or ethics. A casuistic conundrum that was typical of the Jesuits. She wasn’t prepared. God help her, she couldn’t choose.

  There was a key in the lock. No time left. The clock had run out.

  “Toni?” Michael came in and switched on the light.

  She didn’t say anything. How could she speak? All she could do was look at him, and then her decision was made.

  “Toni!” He rushed over and put his arms around her” What’s wrong?”

  “Love. I choose love.”

  He frowned. He probably thought she was crazy, and maybe she was. Then he picked her up and carried her to the living room couch. A murderer? Never! Not with these arms that spoke of love. Not with these lips that kissed her so gently. No
t with these anxious but innocent eyes. She could hear the words in her head, and they sounded like lines from a romance novel, so she laughed. But she was right. She knew she was right!

  “What is it, Toni? Were you worried about me?”

  She nodded. Oh yes, she had been worried. But not in the way he meant. Mike Kruger or Michael Hart. It no longer mattered. All the evidence in the world couldn’t convince her that the man she loved was a murderer. Even if he drew out a gun and ended her life at this moment, she’d go to her grave believing in his innocence.

  “Are you sick, Toni? Is there anything I can get you?”

  He was so concerned, she had to tell him. “I was. But I’m fine now. I think it was a crisis of faith, and I won.”

  He frowned. She could tell that he really didn’t know what she was talking about. How could he?

  “You’ll have to explain that one to me, but this should help. I brought you something, Toni.”

  He handed her a bouquet. Roses. Deep red velvety roses, sprinkled with dew. It was glycerin, of course. She’d worked in a flower shop once, and she knew the tricks of the trade. But it could just as well have been dew. And there, tucked among the roses, was a card that said, “I love you.”

  “Mike?” Her voice was stronger now, more in control. She’d made her decision, and nothing could make her change it.

  “Yes, Toni?”

  “Do you love me? Really?”

  He kissed her then. It was a promise, a covenant. Yes, he loved her. She could tell. So she smiled, suddenly at peace with all the dilemmas the world could shower on her. They didn’t matter. They weren’t important.

  “I love you, too, Michael Hart,” she said.

  Harry Evans was confused. Toni had obviously known Ebony Rose when she was Rosalie Dumont. His records showed that Ebony Rose had started the business eight years ago, so it had to be before that. How had Toni met her?

  He sat at his gray metal desk and reviewed what he knew about Toni. Nothing, really. Antonia Novak, computer whiz. She was a good friend, but he knew nothing about her background and neither did Doris. He remembered when she’d moved in six years ago. He had asked where she came from, and she told him that she’d been living in her father’s house in the valley for two years, nursing him through a terminal illness. That accounted for eight years, but where had she been before that? Not in college. He knew that for a fact. She enrolled as a freshman when she started taking those computer classes. Maybe it would be a good idea to run a background check on Toni. And while he was at it, he’d run a check on Ebony Rose, too. There had to be some period when their paths had crossed.

  Harry turned on his computer and punched in the codes. Now he was glad that Toni had given him some tips on using it. It was ironic, in a way. He was using the skills she’d taught him to check up on her. Maybe he was just wasting his time, but he had a hunch it might be important.

  “I still can’t believe you were that little nun. Why didn’t I recognize you?”

  “How could you? We wore full habits, and I always kept my eyes averted. It was the way we were taught.”

  Michael gave her a hug. “I’m certainly glad you’re not a nun anymore. And I’m grateful that you’re on my side this time. Why do you believe me, Toni? All the evidence points straight to me. For all I know, I might really be the one who’s killing off the jurors. I told you what the psychiatrist said about my sleepwalking.”

  “You’re not killing anybody, Mike. You couldn’t be, not even in your sleep.”

  “Okay. If I’m not doing it, then somebody’s setting me up. We’ve got to figure out who it is, and then we can call Harry and ask for his help.”

  Toni shook her head. “It won’t work, Mike. Harry’s a friend, but not even a friend would believe a crazy story like this. He’d have to do his duty and lock you up again. And even if your brother wins your appeal, they’ll just try to convict you for the murders of the jurors. We’ve got to find some sort of evidence that the police will believe.”

  “There’s the footage the professor found. That’ll help. Thank God. There’s a guard out there, Toni. If I thought that you re in any . . . oh, my God!”

  “What is it?”

  “I just remembered. Stan told me he warned the last two jurors personally.”

  Toni raised her eyebrows. “Then your brother lied to you, Mike. He didn’t warn me. And I’m willing to bet there’s no guard, either.”

  “But why would he lie? Is there any way you could use your computer to find out about my appeal, Toni? It’s important.”

  “Sure. Come with me.”

  It seemed to take hours to access the court calendar. Toni scrolled through the cases on the docket, but they couldn’t find anything scheduled for Michael Hart’s appeal. Stan had lied about that, too.

  Toni turned to him with a frown. “Why did he lie, Mike? What reason could he have?”

  “He must have wanted me to sit tight while the killer finished off the jurors. That’s the only conclusion I can come up with. Toni, I think we should call Harry. Even if I get sent back to Oakdale, it’ll be worth it if I’m sure you’re safe.”

  Toni dialed Harry’s number at the precinct. “Captain Evans, please. This is Toni Novak.”

  She frowned down at the phone. “He’s not? When do you expect him back? I see. No, there’s no message. Just tell him that I’ll call back.”

  “Harry’s not there?”

  Toni shook her head. “They expect him back late, but they’re not sure when.”

  “Let’s go, Toni. I’ll turn myself in to whoever’s there, and we’ll get some protection for you. You’re a sitting duck in this apartment.”

  “No, Mike. I won’t let you turn yourself into anyone but Harry. Without Harry, no one would take our story seriously. They’d think we were both insane.”

  “Maybe we are.” Michael frowned. “I just wish I had that footage, if there ever was any.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Michael sighed. “Maybe Stan lied about that, too.”

  “I don’t think so.” Toni looked thoughtful. “It wouldn’t serve any purpose for him to do that.”

  “You’re right. If that footage does exist and I had it, I could prove to the police that I was innocent ten years ago. If I could do that, they might just believe me now.”

  “Do you think the footage would be in your brother’s office?”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it. If Stan had it in the first place, he’s probably destroyed it by now. He never wanted to clear me, Toni. And now he wants me to take the blame for all these other murders. He’s protecting the real killer but I can’t figure out why.”

  “Forget that for now. Do you know who gave Stan the footage? Maybe that person kept a copy.”

  “It was Professor Zimmer. Stan mentioned it on the phone this afternoon. I don’t think he was lying. It just sort of slipped out.”

  “Let’s go, Mike. I think the professor kept a copy. I’m willing to bet on that.”

  “How can you be that sure?”

  “Professor Zimmer made copies of everything. That was one thing I noticed about him during your trial. He even made copies of the daily notes he took during the trial. I asked him why he copied everything and he explained that he wanted a record of everything in case the original got lost. That copy will be in his office on the campus, Mike. That’s something else I’m sure about.”

  “Why are you sure about that?”

  “Because Harry told me that the killer broke in there, looking for something. It must have been the footage.”

  “What if he found it?”

  “Don’t bother me with details. We’ve got to assume it’s still there and find it.” Toni tossed Mike her keys and grabbed a revolver from the drawer in the kitchen. “You drive. I’ll ride shotgun. I always hated this ugly thing, but now I’m glad that Harry taught me how to use it.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Stan watched them pull into the parking lot and get out of the car. Had they
solved the puzzle? Yes, they were walking across the commons, past the cathedral toward Professor Zimmer’s office building. They had no trouble getting inside. Once he’d realized where they were going, he’d driven ahead to unlock the door. If they found what they were looking for, that was wonderful. But even if they didn’t, he’d put an end to this whole case when they came back to the car.

  At first the police would think that there’d been two more violent muggings on campus. And then they’d find the suicide note and identify the bodies. It wouldn’t take any clever detective work to tie it all together. Michael Hart had escaped from the hospital to commit his insane revenge. Tonight he’d killed the last juror, and then he’d turned the gun on himself. It would be a horrible end to a tormented life. All the pieces fit perfectly. It was brilliantly planned. No one would ever suspect him.

  He frowned, thinking about the tasks he had left to accomplish. He could kill her with no problem. But him? That would be much more difficult. He’d just have to do it the way he’d intended. There was no escape, and he’d make it quick and painless. It was kinder that way. And it was much more humane than forcing him to live out the rest of his life in a mental institution.

  It would have been easier if he’d hated him, or resented him, or even disliked him. But he didn’t. It was all circumstance, nothing but unfortunate circumstance. He hadn’t started out to set him up ten years ago, but that’s what had happened in the course of events, and now he was locked into a situation he’d never anticipated. He was trapped by fate, and he was as much a victim as all the others.

  Would they find the footage? It was possible, although he’d searched very thoroughly. He could end it all right there in the professor’s office, but it would be more prudent to wait and see. If they found it, things could be tied up much more neatly. Of course, no one would realize the significance of the footage if they stumbled across it later, but it would give him a great deal of satisfaction to know that there were no loose ends.