by J A Whiting
Claire gave a shrug and was about to speak when Nicole cut her off. “Lay back on the ground. Close your eyes. Open yourself to whatever it is in the universe that tells you stuff.”
The corners of Claire’s mouth turned up at Nicole’s description.
“Do it, Claire. Get us out of this mess.”
Claire sucked in a long, deep breath, hesitated for a moment, then rested back on the damp grass and closed her eyes. At first nothing happened, but then, Claire felt like she was in a dream state even though she knew she was fully conscious. Her muscles relaxed and her breathing evened out and became slow and easy. Images popped into her brain of the things that had happened recently, beginning with the night she and Nicole experienced the shooting by the Old South Meeting House. She saw Merritt outside the Jasper Building and Siobhan getting shot. As one image faded, a new one came together like snippets of video, one after another.
A vision of someone took form in her mind … a small, skinny man dressed in black, approaching Siobhan in her hospital bed with a hypodermic needle in his hand. Just as he plunged the needle into Siobhan’s arm, the picture dissipated and Claire saw three men in a tiny room hunched over a computer checking the weight of the cargo being carried in the hold of the incoming jet. She saw the smiles on their faces when they realized that what they were waiting for was on the arriving plane.
Her visions went black and Claire thought it was over until she saw tiny sparkles at the edge of her vision swirl around until the blackness was gone. A man, dressed in a suit, sat at a large wooden desk in front of a huge window in a beautifully furnished room. He tapped at a laptop and his gaze on the screen was intense. It was Attorney Freeman. There was a desktop computer on his desk and he had a second laptop on the corner of his workspace that was closed.
When he finished what he was doing, he shut down the laptop, stood, and carried it across the room where he opened a closet door. He punched a code into a keypad on the wall, swung a metal door open, and slid the laptop inside of the safe. He exited the room leaving the other laptop in plain view on his desk.
Claire bolted upright. “The safe.”
Nicole stared at her like she’d lost her mind.
“Freeman put a laptop in his safe.” Claire stood. “He locked it in his safe. That laptop must have information on it about his illegal activity. That’s why he’s hiding it in his safe.”
Nicole jumped to her feet, her mouth hanging open. “You saw that?”
“Don’t look at me like that.” Claire held out her hand. “I need to use your phone. It’s probably safer than using mine. Then we’re getting out of here.”
Nicole handed the phone to her friend.
Claire said, “I’m calling in some help.”
Despite the late hour, Claire made her second call of the day to Judge Augustus Gunther to report the evening’s activities. She’d spoken to the judge earlier in the day right after she’d met with Joe Elliott to tell him what she’d learned about Fast Freight and the harassment that was going on there. After Claire told Augustus about the car in front of her house and the supposed text from Merritt, she spoke to him about Alex Freeman’s laptop ensconced in a closet safe in the man’s office and what she suspected could be found on that laptop. “I can’t reveal how I discovered this, but I know he keeps a laptop in his office safe.”
It took so long for Augustus to respond that Claire thought the phone had gone dead. At last he said, “This is very useful. I must consider how to proceed.”
“I don’t know who to trust,” Claire told the judge. “I thought you would be better equipped than me to know what to do with this information and who to share it with.”
Claire listened to Augustus for another minute and then ended the call.
Handing the phone to Nicole, Claire said, “Let’s go back to the house.”
Apprehension washed over Nicole’s face. “The house? We can’t. Why go back?”
“Because it’s more comfortable than sitting on the cool, wet grass of this playground.” Claire started walking.
“What about the car in front of the house? What about the gun?”
“I called it in to the police. That car isn’t going to sit out there all night. Anyway, I need to get home. There’s something I have to do.”
The two Corgis trotted ahead as Nicole hurried along beside Claire. “Do you want to share with me what it is you have to do?”
Claire gave a wan smile. “I will. I just don’t know what it is yet.”
25
When Claire, Nicole, and the dogs arrived home to the townhouse, Detective Fuller and two plainclothes police officers had just walked the periphery of the property and were about to contact the building manager to open the apartment. When Detective Fuller saw the women and dogs approaching the house, a look of relief washed over his face.
Sitting in Claire’s living room, the girls explained the evening’s events to the detective while the officers searched the house. Claire talked about the panic she felt when she saw the man with a gun sitting in the parked car outside the townhouse.
After an hour of questions, Detective Fuller told Claire and Nicole that the two men from the vehicle had been apprehended and taken in for questioning. Because of Claire’s emergency call to the police, it was discovered that Joe Ellis had been at a family member’s birthday party and was safe. A police car would be stationed in front of the townhouse for the rest of the night while law enforcement assessed the situation.
After the detective and the officers left the townhouse, the girls retired to their beds, but neither of them slept a wink.
The next morning, Nicole, Claire, and Robby bustled about the chocolate shop getting ready for the morning rush. The girls were unusually quiet while they worked and Robby kept pressing them for the reason for their subdued manner. “You’re like a buzzing mosquito,” Claire grumped which only served to make Robby more interested to discover why the young women were in such foul moods. “Did you get shot at again or something,” he joked. The withering looks that Claire and Nicole delivered simultaneously made Robby scurry away to the back room.
Claire finished her work day at the shop an hour early in order to scope out something that had been picking at her while she tried to fall asleep after the police and Detective Fuller left the townhouse last night. In the afternoon heat, she walked to a Back Bay neighborhood, turned onto the street she was looking for, and climbed the stairs to a brownstone building and pressed a button on the intercom panel outside the glossy black door. As Claire admired the professional landscaping around the front of the building, the lock on the door buzzed and she was admitted to the tastefully decorated lobby where the doorman sat at a dark wood desk.
“I’m a friend of a tenant here and I haven’t heard from her for days. Would the building manager be able to check her apartment for me?”
The man nodded and made a phone call and in a few minutes, a short, stocky woman dressed in slacks and a red blouse hurried down the hall, greeted Claire, and walked her away from the security desk to a sitting area in front of a fireplace.
“You’re worried about your friend?” the older woman asked.
“I haven’t heard from her for days. I don’t know her relatives or other friends so I thought I’d come check with you. Her name is Merritt Handley.”
The woman’s face tensed and her gaze flitted about the lobby. “Ms. Handley told me that she doesn’t have any relatives. She works all the time. You’re the only person who has come to inquire about her, well, besides the police and some man who claimed to be her boyfriend.” She rolled her eyes.
“The police were here?” Claire knew that they’d probably made a visit to Merritt’s apartment since she’d shared her concerns with law enforcement, but she pretended to be surprised.
The woman touched Claire’s arm reassuringly. “When I let the police into the apartment, nothing was wrong. Everything was in place. There was no sign of a struggle. The police suspected that Merritt
just went off without telling anyone.”
“Merritt’s boyfriend came by?” Claire asked.
The woman’s eyes darkened. “He wasn’t her boyfriend. I’m sure of it. Ms. Handley wouldn’t be interested in someone like him.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He was dressed okay, but he looked like a thug. I never saw him with Ms. Handley. She’s lived here for ages and I never saw him around here, not once. I’m here all the time, I would have noticed him.”
Claire’s heart thumped. “Have you seen Merritt lately?”
“I haven’t, no. I’m worried about her, same as you.” The woman glanced around and lowered her voice. “Just a few minutes ago, I ran into the people who live in the apartment next to Ms. Handley. They reported some noise coming from her apartment last night.” The woman’s lips were pinched together in two tight, thin lines. “I was going up there to take a look. I want the security guard to accompany me. Since you’re here, you may come up with us, but you’ll have to remain in the hallway while we go in.”
“Okay.” Claire nodded as a rush of anxiety flooded her veins.
The three took the elevator to the seventh floor where they entered a wide corridor with dark wood wainscoting beneath cream-colored walls and polished wood floors with a thick subtle-patterned carpet running down the center. The subdued lighting lent an elegant and refined air to the space.
The building manager stopped at the second door on the right and paused in front of it with the master key in her hand. The security guard stood behind the woman and nodded to Claire. “I’ll ask you to stay here in the hall while we go in and check things out.”
The woman knocked, and when no one responded, she turned the key and gingerly pushed the door open. “Hello?” When she saw what was inside, the woman gasped and placed her hand over her mouth. The security guard gripped the canister of pepper spray attached to his belt as he entered the apartment.
Claire’s head spun when she peeked over the manager’s shoulder. What was once a beautiful room was now in total disarray with furniture overturned, the contents of drawers dumped onto the floor, and clothing strewn about the place. “I’ll call the police,” the manager mumbled.
Claire stepped around the distraught woman and entered Merritt’s apartment being careful not to touch anything. The place was a disaster. As Claire moved slowly about, she could sense the leftover fury pulsing on the air and had the distinct feeling that the mess was not the result of someone searching for something, but was the product of an unbridled fit of rage. Claire felt her throat constricting like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room and she turned abruptly and hurried out to the hallway.
“The police are coming. How did this happen?” The manager’s eyes looked teary. “Ms. Handley probably wasn’t at home when this happened. She must be fine. Don’t you think so?”
Claire didn’t answer the question. “Does Merritt have a car? Is her car in the parking garage?”
The manager’s eyes widened. “A car? Yes, she does. She rents a space in the garage.”
“What kind of a car is it?” Claire had a sinking feeling in her stomach.
The manager’s face was pale. “I know what she drives because I have the same car, just a different color.” She told Claire the make, model, and color of Merritt’s vehicle and Claire dashed away. “I’m going down there. I want to see if her car is in the garage. If I’m not back when the police come, please send an officer down.”
Claire punched at the elevator buttons, got in, and rode to the basement. Dizziness had taken over and she shook herself slightly to try to clear her head. Rushing up and down the parking lanes of the garage, she searched for a car that met the manager’s description of Merritt’s vehicle and when she was nearly through the space, some measure of relief passed over her. Only the far end of the garage was left and it looked to have just four cars parked there. None of them belonged to Merritt.
Turning to leave, something in the furthest corner caught Claire’s eye and her heart dropped.
Merritt’s car was pulled in behind a cement column.
Shuffling slowly to the corner, Claire’s muscles began to tremble and as she stepped close to the car, she could see something dark puddled on the cement floor beneath the trunk.
Blood.
26
When the police arrived and the car’s trunk was opened, Merritt Handley’s body was found inside. She had been strangled and stabbed. Claire, the building manager, and the security guard were questioned and allowed to leave. Detective Fuller arrived and asked Claire why she was at Merritt’s building.
“I was worried about her. I thought I’d come by.” Claire eyed Fuller. “I suppose there isn’t any point in asking what you know?”
Fuller shoved his hands into his pockets. “I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation.”
“Do you know where Melody is?”
Fuller’s face was blank, not giving anything away.
Still unsure about whether or not she could trust the detective, Claire had decided not to share anything with him that he did not specifically ask. “I’m going home now.”
As she started away, Fuller called to her. “Claire….”
When she looked back at him, he sighed and shrugged a shoulder.
Arriving home somber and pensive, Claire took the dogs for a walk and pondered Merritt Handley and what had caused her death. She was certain that Attorney Freeman was responsible for Merritt’s death, either directly or by his order, but she wondered which side Merritt had been on. Was she working with Freeman or against him? The circumstances of Merritt’s life picked at Claire.
The building manager had told Claire that Merritt didn’t have a boyfriend, had no family, and never saw Merritt with any friends. The idea of the young woman spending her life alone, focused solely on working and building a career struck Claire as terribly sad and she thought about the parallels between her and Merritt’s lives. Before she’d met Teddy, Claire had been single-minded about accumulating money as a buffer to the poverty she’d experienced while growing up. To her, money was security and stability and that was what Claire longed for.
That could have been me back there in that trunk. I was like Merritt. Working, working. Never taking time for friends or relationships. Alone. All alone. Claire brushed a tear from her eye and said a silent prayer of thanks for the good fortune of having met her husband. Teddy saved me.
An hour went by with Claire and the dogs strolling around the Common, the financial district, and down to the waterfront. Deciding she’d better return home, she made a loop through the city heading back to her neighborhood. Walking the dogs past a storefront with huge panes of glass, Claire caught her reflection in the window and pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear, she realized she hadn’t had her hair cut for over a year.
For a split second, she thought of calling Alicia for an appointment to get her hair trimmed and her heart constricted when the reality hit her that the hairstylist was dead. Thinking how odd that such a trivial thing as a haircut would pop into her mind when she’d been thinking so seriously about Merritt and her own life, Claire stopped in her tracks and stared at her image in the glass, her head buzzing.
Alicia.
Claire was nearly overcome with the pressing need to talk to Alicia’s husband again.
When Tony saw Claire enter his deli, his face scrunched with concern. “What’s wrong with you?”
Claire sank into the café chair in the corner and proceeded to tell Tony about Merritt. “I feel like I need to talk to Alicia’s husband again. I think there’s a clue hiding there.”
Tony rubbed his meaty hand over his forehead and shook his head slowly. “Stay away from it, Blondie. It’s nothing but a viper pit. When people go looking for trouble, they usually find it.”
“I’ve found plenty already.”
Tony frowned. “Then my advice to you is to retire from investigative pursuits.”
Claire ignored the comme
nt. “Where could Melody be?”
“Maybe she met with the same fate.”
“Please don’t say that.” Claire rested her chin in her hand. “Alicia, Siobhan, and Merritt are dead. It has to stop.” Sipping from the cup of ice cold water Tony had brought her, Claire looked over at her friend. “What’s going on with you? Is there any news about the building?”
“There seems to be a second offer.” Tony let out a long, defeated sigh. “It’s well over the asking price for the building. The owner is going to accept it.”
Claire narrowed her eyes. “Do you know who the buyer is?”
Tony shook his head. “Some financial group.”
“Maybe the buyer will let you stay.” Claire gave Tony a hopeful look. “Maybe the new owner would be very glad to have a long-established tenant remain in the building.”
Tony’s face was serious. “I doubt it. A financial group usually has one goal, to make money. Renting to me doesn’t fit that objective.”
The dogs whined and lay down under the table at Tony’s feet.
“Give me your hand,” Claire said, wanting to lighten the mood.
Tony leaned back in his chair and looked at Claire suspiciously. “Why?”
Reaching for the big man’s hand, Claire smiled. “I’m going to tell your fortune.”
“You’re a fortune teller now?” Tony crossed his arms over his chest.
“Maybe.” Claire chuckled. “How hard can it be? Give me your hand. Humor me.”
Tony shook his head and placed his hand on the table, palm side up. Running her index finger over the lines in the man’s palm, Claire peered at the calloused hand, muttering ‘hmmm’ and ‘ahhh’ until she glanced up with a serious expression. “Very interesting.”
“What does your sixth sense tell you? That I own a deli?”
Claire smiled. “It does tell me that, yes, but there’s more. You see this line here?” She pointed. “It tells me that you have a very long life ahead.”
