Getting Away Is Deadly

by Sara Rosett

  Select your airline seat when you book your flight.

  If you can travel without your laptop, you’ll save time at security screening points.

  A watch with two time-zone settings lets you keep track of time at your destination and back at the office.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I shifted and looked around uneasily, but Tony was focused on his conversation and hadn’t seen me. I took a couple of steps to get a better look at the other man. He had the same glossy dark hair and olive complexion. He was slightly taller than Tony and a bit heavier.

  A cluster of tourists bunched around their guide a few feet away. It was either join the tourists or walk across the wide-open swath of grass alone. I suppose I could have stayed where I was, but I felt exposed.

  Tony still had the football tucked under his arm, but he looked sweatier. The other man’s shirt had dark spots at the armpits. They both looked like they’d finished a game of flag football.

  I edged closer to the water and merged into the group of tourists. At the front of the group, a tour guide murmured about the construction of the Reflecting Pool.

  I glanced at the two men again and heard Tony say, “Drop it.” His sharp words carried clearly over the water. He realized it and lowered his volume, but I could still hear him as he continued. “Look, it’s done. We have to go on. And it’s a good thing anyway. He was getting too involved with the woman after his assignment in Georgia.”

  The other man clenched his fists. His voice was angry as he said, “You can’t go and make decisions like that. You can’t take someone out.”

  “You think I killed him?”

  The other man kept silent. I ducked my head over the map and inched a bit closer to the tour group.

  “You really think that? You think I’d waste a minute of my time on Jorge? He was nothing.”

  “He thought you were getting soft. And I’m beginning to think he might have been right. Cushy job. Fast car. You like America, don’t you? I don’t know if you have the guts to do what needs to be done.”

  I sneaked a look up from my map and saw the anger in Tony’s eyes as he said quietly, “I’m not soft. I didn’t kill him, but it’s a good thing he’s gone. He got too wrapped up in women.”

  Suddenly, I realized the background noise of the tour guide’s voice was gone. I looked up; they’d trooped away. I pivoted and cut diagonally across the grass to the street, studying the map as I went. I picked up my pace a bit more, and looked over my shoulder. The second man was walking away, but Tony charged along the edge of the reflecting pool, looking at me.

  “Hey, watch where you’re going,” a woman said as I bumped into her. She scowled at me as she grabbed the earbud I’d knocked out of her ear.

  I twisted around, said, “Sorry,” and threaded through a crowd of people. I hurried along, not quite jogging, but close to it. I snuck another quick backward glance. Tony was dodging through a crowd and moving in my direction. I broke out of the crowd, crossed the street, and hurried down the opposite side. As soon as I was across, I realized it was a mistake. There were a lot more people on the Mall. I should have stayed over there, but I didn’t want to cross back again, so I sprinted down the sidewalk. I looked back, but didn’t see Tony. I passed his car and kept up my pace. Then a stitch in my side reminded me that running wasn’t my thing. I really had to get out that pregnancy workout video.

  I scanned the street for the parking garage, but didn’t see it. Oh God, what if I’d passed it? I did not want to backtrack. I hurried on, sweat sticking my shirt to my back.

  Still no parking garage. Maybe I wasn’t remembering the name right. It had been First Class Parking, hadn’t it? One more block, I decided quickly. I looked back, no sign of Tony. I slowed down to a brisk walk. Maybe I was crazy and he hadn’t spotted me at the Reflecting Pool and followed me. I was trying to decide whether to make the block or look for a store or restaurant to slip into when I saw the yawning, dark entrance to the garage. I did another quick over-the-shoulder check as I slipped around the corner into the blackness.

  Tony stood beside his car, breathing heavily with his hands on his hips, scanning the far side of the street.

  Okay, he was definitely looking for someone and I had a feeling that someone was me. I found Summer’s car, locked all the doors, and sat there with it running and the cool air blasting until my hands stopped shaking.

  Where to go? I wanted to go back to the hotel, but I really should take Summer’s car back to her house, in case she came back from wherever the blazes she’d gone. Tony probably didn’t know which hotel I was in, unless Summer had mentioned it to him in passing. I’d cooled down enough that the air washing over my arms felt frigid. I savored the sensation for a few more seconds; then, I backed out and exited the garage.

  Tony still stood beside his car, studying the street. Fortunately, his back was turned to me. I hit the gas, merged into traffic, and made the first turn I could. After several miles my heartbeat returned to normal. I didn’t see a black car in my mirrors, so I picked up my phone at the next light. No new messages. Why was I not surprised? If Summer hadn’t checked in earlier, why did I think she would now?

  I dialed Abby’s phone and she answered on the first ring. “Hey. What are you doing? Are you busy?” I asked.

  “Not unless you consider reading Cosmo and Fit Pregnancy busy. I went to lunch with everyone and now I’m sitting around the hotel room, resting up for dinner tonight.”

  “You knew about that? Mitch didn’t tell me until a couple of minutes ago. I have absolutely nothing to wear to a dinner.”

  “What about that cute outfit we bought you the other night? You know, the capri pants, blue tank, jacket, and sandals? That’s dressy, but not too dressy. Or you can borrow my lilac sundress.”

  “I love having a personal stylist. You should charge for this kind of advice. Okay, now that my fashion emergency is resolved…” I cringed, remembering that she’d already helped me out once today. Was there a limit on how much you could ask of your friends? I’m sure Miss Manners would say that there was a limit on how much you should ask of your friends, but I really didn’t want to be at Summer’s alone. “I hate to ask you this, but can you get a taxi and meet me at Summer’s apartment?”

  “Sure. What’s going on?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  Somehow I managed to arrive at Summer’s apartment first. A black Lexus, the only car in the driveway, was parked close to the house. All the excitement of the room redecoration and magazine interview must be over. I parked Summer’s car on the street where it had been this morning and walked up the driveway to her apartment. I knocked on her door, but I didn’t really expect anyone to answer. After a few moments, I unlocked the door and went inside, quickly sliding the dead bolt into place.

  Nothing had changed. No purse tossed on the counter or shoes kicked off by the door. I fought down the uneasy feeling the lifeless atmosphere gave me and went to check her answering machine. A new message. I hit PLAY.

  “Hi, Summer, this is Kimberly at the office. I thought you’d want to know that police officer, Detective Brown, came by this afternoon looking for you. I told him you always have Friday afternoons off and to check at your place. Anyway, just thought you might want to know.”

  Terrific. I checked my watch. The message had been recorded about ten minutes ago. Brown was probably on his way over here right now. As soon as the taxi got here, I was out the door. I didn’t want to talk to Detective Brown in person. Lying, well, obfuscating, I could get away with for short periods over the phone, but not face-to-face.

  I paced to the window. No taxi. I walked around the room a couple of times. I picked up the mug and set it in the sink, then forced myself to sit down on the couch. Paper crinkled as I plunked into the cushions. I pulled out the stack of junk mail that Summer had taken from Jorge’s mailbox. Was this what Tony had been looking for? I glanced through the flyers and junk mail again. Nothing in there worth making a special trip to Jo
rge’s apartment for, not that I could see.

  I pulled the opened envelope out of my purse and looked at the address and postmark. I added it to the stack of junk mail and then shoved the whole bundle in my purse as I checked the end of the driveway again. Still no taxi. More clouds had rolled in and a few raindrops plopped onto the driveway.

  The laptop was still open, so I powered it up and brought up the Internet. I began typing the word “STAND” into the search box, but after the first two letters, a drop-down box showed that “STAND North Dawkins, Georgia” had been typed into the search box before. I clicked on the words.

  The search had retrieved sixty-two thousand results, but only one line on the first page was highlighted in a different color, indicating it had been selected recently. I clicked on that line and the screen filled with an aerial photo of a military base. Fighters and tankers filled the ramp. Huge hangars angled across the top of the photo alongside the runway. Above the photo, a banner bracketed with rippling American flags read STAND: Secure Taylor And North Dawkins. I scanned the text below the photo. STAND was an organization designed to make sure North Dawkins’s military base, Taylor Air Force Base, didn’t appear on base closure lists.

  Suddenly, I had a feeling that Summer had done something impulsive. I walked over and picked up her phone and punched in the code to retrieve the last number dialed. A lively voice answered, “Around Town Shuttle.”

  “Hi, could you tell me a little about your services?” I asked.

  “Of course. We provide shuttle and parking services for Dulles and Ronald Reagan National.”

  “And do you pick up travelers at their homes?”

  “Yes and we also pick up at businesses, too. We have quite a few corporate clients. Would you like references?”

  “No. I just need to know if you picked up a woman named Summer Avery last night at—”

  “I’m sorry but we can’t give that information out.”

  “Well, yes, I’m sure you wouldn’t normally, but this is my sister-in-law and I haven’t heard from her for several hours and if you could just confirm that she used your shuttle, I’d at least know she went to the airport.”

  “I’m really sorry, but I can’t give out any information. Privacy policy, you know. Why don’t you call the police?”

  Good question. I couldn’t say, “Because they want to talk to her, too.” Just wouldn’t sound good, so I thanked her and hung up.

  My cell phone rang and I hurried over to answer it.

  “Hi, Ellie. You’re not going to believe what I found last night—”

  “Summer, tell me you’re not in Georgia.”

  An Everything In Its Place Tip for an Organized Trip

  Since road trips can seem endless, here’s a few games to help pass the time:

  State Blackout—Bring several copies of a map of the United States. Have kids color in a state when they see a license plate from that state. The winner is the person who either fills in the map or has the most states filled in at the end of the trip.

  Name Game—The driver says the name of a famous person. The person in the front passenger seat takes the first letter of the last name and thinks of a different famous person whose first name begins with that letter. For example, if the driver says, “Albert Einstein,” the second player could say, “Eleanor Roosevelt.” Rotate through the car until someone can’t think of a new name. Variations on this game could include the cartoon character name game or, to make the game harder, limit the game to a category like only politicians or musicians.

  Alphabet Game—Begin with the letter a and look for a sign with that letter. The person who sees an a first gets a point. Continue through the alphabet, then total points. The person with the highest score wins.

  I Spy—Play this classic game with a time limit of a couple of seconds per turn since you’ll be flying down the road and can zip past the item that was “spied” almost before anyone’s had a chance to guess.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A brief silence greeted me and then I could hear Summer take a deep breath, winding up for a long, wheedling apology. “You sound upset. Are you upset? I’m really sorry to leave you alone for the prep for Emma’s room, but I’ll be back before tomorrow and—”

  “Summer, tell me you’re not in Georgia,” I repeated. “Because—leaving out all the worrying I’ve done about you—I really don’t want to have to tell Detective Brown, who’s looking for you, that you’ve left town. No, wait. Not that you’ve left town. You’ve left the state. In fact, you’re not even in the same region, are you?”

  “No.” Her voice was subdued. “You’re right. I’m in Georgia.” The regret fell away and she hurried through the rest of her explanation. “But I’ll be back before tomorrow. I’ll be so quick that the police won’t even know I was gone, and everything should be fine for Emma’s room. Anyway, I had to come down here because I found this envelope in Jorge’s mail and—”

  “STAND, right? I found the envelope.”

  “Yes, how did you know about it?” Her voice was flat again.

  I felt bad about deflating her excitement. “Summer, I’m sorry to be so…harsh with you, but I was worried about you and you shouldn’t run off to another state when you’re a suspect in a murder investigation. It doesn’t look good. Haven’t you listened to your messages?”

  “No. I haven’t had time. I think my phone is in the rental car. You called, huh?”

  “Yes. One of my calls was to tell you that the photo shoot for Mom Magazine was moved up to early this afternoon.” The silence stretched and I thought I’d lost the connection. “Summer, are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. That’s…I mean…they can’t do that. It’s not ready.”

  “Well, they can and they did. Fortunately, the other military spouses on my tour helped finish the room this morning. If they hadn’t been here, there wouldn’t have been a new room for Emma.”

  Summer groaned. “I should have known something would happen. It always does. What about Ms. Archer? Was she furious that I wasn’t there?”

  “No, Tony covered for you.”

  “Tony is such a sweetie.”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “Not as well as I’d like,” she said playfully. “He’s always polite and professional. Very…” She paused and searched for a word. “Distant.”

  “Did he know Jorge?”

  “Tony and Jorge?” Her voice was dismissive. “No, of course not.”

  “Well, Tony was at Jorge’s apartment today, looking in Jorge’s mailbox. I think he was looking for the mail you took.”

  “What?”

  I summarized how I’d gotten in her apartment. “Since I didn’t have any other ideas about where you might be, I went back there and he showed up. Then he met another man. I heard the other man accuse Tony of getting rid of Jorge.”

  “Whoa. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Jorge never went to the office? Did he do yard work there or something?”

  “No. That is so bizarre because Tony, well, I’d trust him with anything. And Ms. Archer does. Are you absolutely sure it was Tony?”

  “No doubt in my mind. It was Tony.” I checked the window again. The taxi was still a no-show. “And you know, he mentioned Georgia. He said he shouldn’t have sent Jorge to Georgia.”

  “That’s why I’m here. I found the envelope from STAND. There was a check inside made out to Jorge and it was signed by Lena Stallings.”

  “Who’s Lena Stallings?” I asked.

  “She’s the executive director of STAND and, more importantly, she’s a redhead.”

  “A woman has red hair and you hop on a flight to Georgia?” I couldn’t keep the exasperated tone out of my voice. “And how do you know she’s got red hair?”

  “Just listen, for a minute. I know she’s got red hair because I looked up STAND online. There’s a picture of their board.”

  I went back to the computer and clicked over to STAND’s About Us page and wai
ted for it to load.

  Summer continued. “She signed the check to Jorge and in the memo line she wrote ‘yard work.’ There was also a sticky note stuck to the check that said ‘Haven’t been able to reach you. We need to talk.’ And then there’s a phone number. There’s no date on the note, but the check’s date and the envelope’s postmark were the week before Jorge died.”

  “So you think that she came to D.C., found Jorge on the Metro platform, and pushed him?”

  “Well, when you put it so bluntly, it does sound tenuous, but, Ellie, she knew him in Georgia. She’s mailing him checks. She wanted to talk. I think they were having an affair and she didn’t want anyone else to know about it. Down here, she’s quite the southern lady ambassador for North Dawkins, Georgia. Everyone I talk to here knows her and they all think she’s wonderful. I’ve heard how she grew up here, became a nurse during Vietnam, and then came home to set up tons of programs for returning vets. She’s very high-profile here.”

  “Summer, I’ll be the first to confess that I make intuitive leaps, but you’ve got to admit that what you’ve got is pretty flimsy.”

  “Well, I know she was in D.C. last week. In fact she’s still there. That’s why I’m coming back. And we all know what that ‘we need to talk’ line means. They were involved. I think Jorge came down here to do yard work during the winter. There would be more opportunities to work down here even in the winter than there would be in Virginia or Maryland. He met her and they had a thing going, but she got worried when he left. A fling with the gardener just wouldn’t go over well for such a public figure here.”

  “I know you want to find some other legitimate suspects, but—and I hate to say this—I think you’re reaching here. How do you know they were ever involved?”

  “Ellie, the check is for fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Oh. Okay. That would be an awful lot of landscaping.”