ESCAPE INTO ROMANCE- 4 Book Bundle

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ESCAPE INTO ROMANCE- 4 Book Bundle Page 75

by Patrice Wilton


  “You bet.” Maddi waved royally. “Better make it a whole bottle.” She toasted Barbara. “We’re celebrating, girlfriend. Let’s have the most expensive thing on the menu, since David is still paying the bills.” She smiled at the young waiter. “How about some caviar to start, and a couple of your yummiest appetizers, then we’ll get down to the entrees. Would you like one too?”

  Barbara choked on her drink. “Yes, by all means, have whatever you like. But change the wine to champagne. The very best, the most expensive, your finest vintage.”

  After the waiter left she leaned over the table and took the glass from Maddi’s hand. “Not another sip until you explain how you got his key.”

  “Piece of cake.” Maddi answered. “I marched into his office and demanded to see him. When his receptionist asked me to wait in his office, I had the perfect opportunity. I know that David has a habit of keeping his keys in his coat pocket so I snitched them, and told Karen I’d be back in an hour. I had copies made, returned, and slipped the originals back in his coat while his back was turned. He was occupied for a few minutes washing up after his oral surgery.”

  “Weren’t you afraid of getting caught, or worse, running into Tami?”

  Maddi’s spine stiffened. “Not at all. That little tramp had better run from me.”

  “Yeah, you’re tough,” Barbara teased. “So what did you tell David about why you were there?”

  She shrugged. “I told him the truth. That I want to go back to college to finish my degree. I asked if he would help finance it, that kind of thing. He said go for it, and so I did.”

  “You’ll be going for it, all right.” Barbara smirked. “Just wait until he sees what we have planned for him next.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Officer Jan Turner was in Hoboken, New Jersey, when she received the call. Breaking and entering. From what she’d heard it sounded more like a domestic dispute. Nothing was stolen, just a few things added. The guy knew it was his wife; she’d somehow gotten into his apartment and dropped off some things. So what was his problem? Complaining ’cuz his wife dropped off some furniture and plants, calling the police on her. Fucking nutcase.

  She banged on the door, and it was opened right away. A skinny young girl stood there, face scratched, hair askew, with puffy red eyes, and black mascara running down her cheeks, pooling on her white cotton shirt. She sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

  Jan looked over her shoulder at the apartment-turned-jungle, then back at the sniveling girl. “I’m a police officer, honey. Your dad in?”

  “David. It’s the cop.”

  The complainant was a man in his mid-forties, trim, handsome, if it weren’t for the petulant scowl on his face. She watched with wry amusement as he sidestepped his way to the door.

  “Just got off the phone to my lawyer,” he ranted. “Stupid prick told me to settle down, and I told him I bloody well didn’t want to settle down.”

  Jan slumped her shoulders so she wouldn’t appear quite as formidable, since she towered over him. “Yes, sir. Perfectly understandable.”

  “Come on in.” He flung his arm out, encompassing the room. “You can see for yourself what my wife has done.” His voice rose. “Look at this mess. All these dug-up plants, roots and soil everywhere. Unbelievable! First I thought of it as a prank, but my girlfriend’s right. This is vandalism, and I want to know what you’re going to do about it.”

  “Dr. Clemmons? Before we go any further, I’m Officer Turner.” Jan stuck out her hand, which he reluctantly took. “I’ll just walk around and take a few notes.”

  He growled, “I want her arrested. Not thrown in jail or anything, but she should be made to pay a fine. And to pay for cleaning up this mess.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jan had to bite down on her inside cheek, to hold off a grin. So he’d left his wife, had he, to shack up with this little doll-baby with her pouty lips and silicone tits? Well, she couldn’t see anything illegal in what the missus had done.

  Nothing at all.

  “How did she get in?”

  Baby-doll piped in. “Good question. You can ask her when you arrest her.”

  Jan sat on the edge of a table, scribbling bullshit in her little notepad. “You want to do that? Arrest your wife, I mean. She’ll get a lawyer, probably already has one, and fight it, of course. The lock hasn’t been tampered with, and there isn’t any sign of forced entry.”

  “Yeah, well. I didn’t give her a key.” He put his arm around the young girl’s shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “I left her and moved in with Tami. She’s bitter, but I never thought she’d be vicious.”

  “Give me her address.” Jan said flatly. “I’ll have to ask her some questions. Who knows? It might not have been her. She might have an alibi.”

  “What are you telling me? That someone broke into her house and stole our things, and dropped them off here?”

  “It’s a strange world we’re living in, sir. It makes you want to keep your doors locked at night.”

  David’s face grew red and his hands curled into fists. He looked like a boy who wanted to shout and scream and break things, but was man enough not to try.

  He hissed, “Don’t get smart with me. If you don’t take her downtown and book her, or whatever the hell you do, I’ll be making a report on you.”

  “You aren’t threatening me, are you, sir?”

  “No, of course not. Just do your job. Arrest the bitch.”

  Jan laughed quietly all the way down the elevator, and nearly peed her pants once she was outside the building. Oh, she was going to enjoy this. She already liked the woman.

  She rode back to the police station to file her report. By the time she’d finished it was late, and she was officially off duty. The call on Maddi Clemmons, woman extraordinaire, could wait until morning.

  * * *

  David was restless, unable to sleep. He wondered what Maddi was up to, how much did she know? He’d gotten out of bed a couple of times to look at that damn sailboat on his desk. Bad Times A’Coming. The more he said the words aloud, the more ominous they sounded.

  His gut feeling told him she knew. This incident with the apartment had only been a ploy to let him know she was on to him. She was toying with him, and it infuriated him to feel so vulnerable.

  He rolled over and punched the pillow with his balled fist. What in hell was she planning to do?

  Tami growled at him. “What are you doing? It’s four o’clock in the bleeding morning, and you’re up and down like a yo-yo. Give me a break already. You know I’m always sick in the morning. I need my sleep.”

  “Shut the hell up, and go back to sleep. I’ve got enough worries, not to have to worry about you.”

  “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not your wife.”

  “You bet you’re not.” He slid out of bed, but she made a grab for his hand. That was enough to make him pause, and to regret his outburst. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone. I have some thinking to do.”

  He poured himself a glass of grapefruit juice and brooded. While usually he didn’t have a particularly vivid imagination, tonight his mind soared, with nightmarish scenes playing out like a bad 3D movie.

  He opened his eyes to stare at the grandfather clock in the entranceway. Tick-tock, tick-tock. The sound was rhythmic and peaceful, and to break the monotony, every half hour it chimed. Amazing how time could pass so infinitely slowly the more one watched and waited for the sound of the chime.

  At six A.M., he couldn’t wait a second longer. He placed the call to the Caymans.

  “John Dansforth, please. Tell him David Clemmons is calling. The owner of the Beneteau, Good Times Ahead.”

  “Yes, Mr. Clemmons. I’ll relay the message the moment he gets in. He usually shows up around eight.”

  “Give me his home number. This is an emergency.”

  “I can’t do that, sir.”

  “Then just tell me one thing. Has anyone been around lately to see my boat?”
r />   “Just your wife, sir.”

  His stomach heaved, while his white-knuckled fingers clutched the phone as though he were strangling it. “My wife?”

  “Yes, sir. She was here last week. We thought you knew. She moved it, sir. It’s gone.”

  David froze, dumbfounded.

  “Sir? Did you hear me? I said it was gone.”

  When David could finally speak, his voice was a fierce whisper. “I heard you all right. I am trying to assimilate the facts.” His voice rose to a shout. “Who is responsible for allowing my boat, I repeat, my boat, from leaving the marina?”

  “I suppose I am, sir.”

  “And who are you?” David demanded, wondering as he spoke the words aloud, what in the Cayman Islands, the penalty for murder might be. They had a British judicial system so perhaps the laws were more lenient. Whatever the price, it would be worth it.

  “I’m Richie Dansforth. I look after the marina when my dad has a day off. He was out fishing the day your wife came.”

  Out fishing. The dock master was out fishing while his wife came and stole the boat.

  David hissed, “How the hell did you let her get away with it? Did you even think to ask her for credentials?” His hands were shaking, and he knew he had to settle down. He had a root canal scheduled in a couple of hours. If only it was Richie he’d have in the chair. He’d have him writhing in agony as he drilled those nerve ends. But sometimes life was unfair. Another poor sucker would be squirming in pain, not the one who let his half-million-dollar yacht disappear.

  “I did, most certainly I did.” Richie stammered. “She showed me everything, and I mean everything. Passport, ownership papers, even the line of credit the bank had drawn up in both your names. It was all there, perfectly legal. According to the papers she was half owner, sir.”

  Unfortunately, it was true. David had forged her signature in order to get the bank loan. If he hadn’t needed the money, the boat would have been his. It had been stupid thinking on his part. Stupid, foolish, and very expensive.

  A thought occurred to him. “What about the keys to the boat?” His voice became shrill. “She didn’t have the keys, did she?”

  Tami came in, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She was butt ass naked, and her little round tummy was sticking out. She touched his arm. “Who are you talking to? Why are you yelling over the phone at this time of the morning?”

  He opened his mouth to curse at her, and then closed it again. Her eyes had welled up with tears, and she looked like an unhappy child. Gently, he patted her behind. He cupped his hand over the phone and whispered, “Maddi has found the boat. She’s moved it.”

  Tami squeaked, “Oh no. We were going to live on it and sail around the world. Now what are we going to do?”

  He shook his head and shrugged, then spoke into the phone. “So, Ritchie. What about the keys? I checked already, and mine are here in my safe.”

  Richie swallowed nervously. “I made her a full copy, sir. She said you were ill. Actually, she said you’d had a stroke and couldn’t walk or talk, and that you might never fully recover.” He cleared his throat. “She had tears in her eyes, sir, and naturally I believed her.”

  “The heartless bitch put on a pretty good show, did she?” David’s tone was deceptively mild.

  “Yes, she certainly did. She explained how she had to move the boat up north, and it made perfect sense. We didn’t confirm it with you, sir, because we thought you were an invalid.”

  “Someone is going to be an invalid when I get through with them, and I assure you it won’t be me.” David slammed down the phone.

  * * *

  A burglary in the Short Hills Mall delayed Jan Turner, so it was nearing noon before she set out to meet the person she imagined to be, one brawny little lady. How had she done it? she wondered. Digging up all those hardy plants, with their tangled, bristly roots? Hell, some were the size of a sumo wrestler’s thigh. Picturing this burly woman and her shovel, Jan’s dark face broke into a smile.

  “There’s a lot of anger in this world,” she said aloud, as she wove her way through traffic. Impatient to meet the woman, she had to restrain herself from using the siren to expedite travel, but once on the New Jersey Turnpike it was clear sailing all the way out to Princeton.

  The house was in a ritzy development on Mill Pond Road, a densely forested area with huge homes and two-acre lots. Driving slowly, checking for the address on the mailbox, she could only catch glimpses of the mansions hidden in the high oak trees.

  So, she mused, David had left his country estate for a two-bedroom apartment in Weehawken, facing the Hudson and the city, trading privacy and seclusion for a rather spectacular view of Manhattan. Well, couldn’t blame him any. This sure in hell was a lot of lawn to keep up.

  Jan snickered. No wonder the missus had given him back his share.

  She’d called to say she was coming with a written complaint. The woman had laughed when she told her that her husband was charging her with B&E and vandalism. Said something about how he wouldn’t dare now that she had the goods on him.

  Jan couldn’t wait to hear what that meant.

  She was about to ring the doorbell when the door was swung open by a smiling, petite blonde, who welcomed her in as if she were a long-awaited guest instead of a police officer on a house call, supposedly to make an arrest.

  “Officer Turner? I’m Maddi Clemmons. Please have a seat. May I offer you something to drink? Or a sandwich? I was just making one for lunch, and I could just as easily make it for two.”

  “No, no, that won’t be necessary. Thank you anyway.” As charming as if she were hosting a tea party, Jan thought, taking mental note of the pink tee-shirt, the gauzy, layered skirt.

  “I just have a few questions for you.” Jan refused the offered seat and remained standing to give the illusion that she was in control, instead of this pint-sized, strawberry shortcake of a woman, who looked capable of stealing the show.

  “Sure, shoot. Oops!” Maddi giggled. “I probably shouldn’t tell a police officer that.” Her eyes dropped to the gun on Jan’s hip.

  Jan patted her weapon like a mother would a baby’s bottom. “Hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

  “Not at all. I keep a small revolver next to my bedside in case of intruders. Living alone in the woods like this can be a scary thing.”

  “It’s registered, ma’am?”

  “I guess so.” Maddi shrugged. “David bought it a few years back. Maybe with any luck it isn’t, and we can arrest him on that.”

  Jan snorted. “Better let me take a look and check out the serial numbers.”

  While Maddi ran upstairs to the bedroom to retrieve the pistol, Jan made a quick tour of the main floor. On driving up she’d seen where the garden had been decimated, and down the hall from the formal living room she’d found the den, a masculine room, with dark paneled walls and heavy, plaid drapes. On the walls were framed pictures of sailing vessels, angled precariously, as they wrestled with the heavy seas. On closer inspection, Jan recognized a much younger David among the crew.

  Obviously this was David’s study, minus the furniture. Imprints on the thick carpet indicated where the desk and wall unit once stood. Evidence everywhere.

  Jan retreated down the hall to the bottom of the stairs, and waited for Maddi’s return. She could hear her on the phone, whispering that she was busy right now and would get back to her. Maddi said she was being questioned by a police officer, a beautiful Amazon woman.

  Jan cracked a smile. She really liked this little lady. A beautiful Amazon. She’d not been called that before.

  Tapping a pen on her notepad she wondered what questions best to ask so Maddi wouldn’t incriminate herself.

  “Here it is,” Maddi said brightly, as she floated down the stairs, dangling the pistol by two fingers, holding it away from her as if afraid of it.

  Jan took it, wrote down the serial numbers, checked the chamber for ammunition, and handed it back. “It’s not load
ed.” Pulling out her cell-phone, she called it in. “We’ll find out if it’s legal soon enough.”

  She sat on a kitchen stool, leaning on the speckled granite counter. “Maybe I’ll have that cold drink while we wait. And I need to ask you a few questions for the record.”

  “Diet coke, mineral water, or iced tea?”

  “Diet coke would be great.” Jan didn’t use the glass, but drank it straight out of the can. She clicked her recorder on. “So, you live here at,” she glanced down at her notes and read off the address, “on your own? It says you have two children. What are their names and ages, for the record?”

  “Autumn is twenty-two and Nicole, twenty. They are David’s from his first marriage, but we had them with us half the time. I don’t have children of my own so the girls were everything to me. Now I’m all alone. David walked out on the first of April. Four months ago.”

  Jan wrote it down, as if it mattered. “How long were the two of you married before he left?”

  “Thirteen and a half years.”

  The scumbag, Jan wrote in her book. “So, these plants and things that you delivered to him were part of the marital assets, right?”

  “Uh, yes. Of course.”

  “And so, being fair, you wanted him to have his share of the personal belongings, right?” Say yes, she encouraged with a nod of the head.

  “Yes, exactly.” Maddi gave an impish grin. “I went to a lot of trouble getting the property to him. All those tiny streets, and no parking.”

  Jan grinned. “Mrs. Clemmons, you are absolutely right. You did go to a lot of trouble, and it was very generous of you in the light of things. I think Dr. Clemmons will have to agree.”

  She clicked off her recorder. “Now, let’s hope the hand gun is not registered and we have something to negotiate with.”

  While they waited for the call back, Jan broke down and ate a sandwich with the suspect. Over the tuna melt and diet Coke, she winked at Maddi.

  “Now, promise me something. You can’t go around harassing your husband. You’ll leave him alone, right?”

  “Certainly. I have no intention of going anywhere near him.”

 

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