Just Take My Heart

by Mary Higgins Clark

  “I think you know what I found, Sal. I found a phone book with Easton's name in it and I found a receipt for a delivery to the Aldrich apartment right before Natalie Raines died.”

  It was disconcerting to Belle that Sal was listening to her but would not look her in the eye.

  “Sal, here they are. Look at them. You knew that Jimmy Easton worked for you and did deliveries for you. Tell the truth.” Pointing her finger and tapping the receipt, she demanded, “Do you know if he went on this delivery?”

  Sal buried his face in his hands. “Yes, I do know, Belle,” he said, his voice breaking. “He was with me. We were inside the apartment. And he may have had a chance to check out that drawer.”

  Belle looked at the chapped and rugged hands of her husband. “Sal,” she said gently, “I know why you've been so tormented. I know why you are afraid. But you know that we have to come forward. We'll never have peace of mind until we do.”

  She got up from her chair, walked across the room, put her arms around Sal, hugged him, then went to the phone. She had written down the phone-in number for Courtside. When she was connected, she said, “My name is Belle Garcia. My husband is Sal Garcia. He has a moving company. I can give you proof that on March third, two and a half years ago, the day Jimmy Easton claimed that he met Gregg Aldrich in his apartment, he was actually there delivering an antique lamp with my husband.”

  The staff member asked her to please hold, then added, “Mrs. Garcia, just in case we're disconnected, may I please have your phone number?”

  “Of course,” Belle responded and quickly rattled it off.

  Less than a minute passed and then a familiar voice came on. “Mrs. Garcia, this is Michael Gordon. I have just been informed that you may have critical information pertaining to the Aldrich case.”

  “Yes, I do.” Belle repeated what she had just told the staff person, then added, “My husband paid Jimmy Easton off the books. That's why he's been afraid to say anything.”

  A tidal wave of hope swept over Mike. He had to let a few mo?ments pass before he could even speak. “Mrs. Garcia, where do you live?”

  “On Twelfth Street between Second and Third.”

  “Would you and your husband get in a cab and come to my of?fice now?”

  Belle looked pleadingly at Sal and repeated Mike's request. He nodded that it was all right to say yes.

  “We will be there as soon as we can,” she told Mike. “I know my husband will want to shower and change first. He was out all day moving people from Long Island to Connecticut.”

  “Of course. It's five thirty now. Do you think you could be here by seven?”

  “Oh, sure. Sal can shower and dress in ten minutes.”

  And I'll have to get dressed, too, Belle thought. What should I wear? I'll call Mama and ask what she thinks. Now that she'd actu?ally made the call, the relief she felt was stronger than the apprehen?sion about Sal's possible tax problem.

  “Mrs. Garcia, take good care of that receipt. You do know that if this checks out, you may be entitled to the twenty-five-thousand-dollar reward.”

  “Oh, my God,” Belle moaned, “I didn't know anything about a reward.”

  Just Take My Heart

  67

  At six o'clock on Monday evening, Emily, holding Bess in her arms, headed for her car. Her immediate neighborhood was cor?doned off with yellow tape to protect the physical integrity of the three crime scenes —Madeline Kirk's home, her own home, and Zach's rental house. The large van marked medical examiner was parked at the curb. Squad cars were posted all along the street.

  Totally traumatized by the death of her neighbor and the knowl?edge that Zach Lanning had been not only spying on her but creep?ing in and out of her house, she had told Jake Rosen that she had to get out. Walking her to her car, Jake said soothingly, “I'll take care of everything.” She completely understood that her home had to be fully processed for fingerprints, any additional electronic devices, and any other evidence that Zach Lanning may have left behind.

  “Try to calm down,” Jake Rosen told her softly. “It's a good idea for you to get away from this for a couple of hours. When you come back, I will tell you everything that we have found. I promise I will not hold back on you.” He smiled. “And I promise we won't leave your house a mess.”

  “Thanks, Jake. I do insist on knowing right away if he's had cam?eras or other devices planted anywhere in my house. Don't try to protect me from it.” She attempted to return his smile but couldn't manage one. “I'll see you later.”

  She drove straight to the courthouse. Carrying two folded duffel bags over her arm and holding the leash with Bess excitedly bounc?ing along beside her, she got into the elevator. There were only a handful of people left in the whole office.

  As she walked down the inner hall toward her own office, a cou?ple of young investigators who had heard about the discoveries pat?ted Bess and expressed their outrage at what Lanning had done to her and to the old lady. Then, sympathetically, they asked if there was anything at all that they could do for her.

  Emily thanked them. “I'm okay. I am going to stay home the next couple of days. I want to have all my locks changed and I don't have to be convinced that I have to upgrade my alarm system. I'll just be here a few minutes. I have a bunch of files that I need to go through that really got backed up while I was on the Aldrich trial. While the work is being done at my house, I can make some headway on them.”

  “Can we at least help you carry them out to the car?”

  “That would be great. I'll let you know when I'm ready to go.”

  Emily went to her office and closed the door. There were indeed plenty of files that needed her attention but they would have to wait. She had made the decision to pack up the entire Aldrich file and bring it home. That was the reason for the duffel bags. She didn't want anyone to be able to see what was in them. She intended to go back again through this case and scrutinize every word contained in the hundreds of pages of documents to see if anything had been missed.

  It took her about thirty minutes to reorganize the folders and pack them in the duffel bags. One of the thicker folders, which she par?ticularly wanted to scour, contained copies of the New York police reports from the nearly twenty-year-old murder in Central Park of Natalie Raines's then roommate, Jamie Evans.

  It had happened so long ago. Maybe that file didn't receive enough of our attention, she thought, as she watched her colleagues lift the duffel bags into her car.

  On the way home, Emily wondered if she would be able to fall asleep in her own house tonight, or for that matter, anytime soon. The personal invasion and sense of humiliation is bad enough, she thought with a lump in her throat. But the reality of that psychopath Zach Lanning still on the loose was terrifying.

  But there was also a part of her that needed to be in her own home.

  As she pulled into her driveway, Jake walked out of her house to meet her. “Emily, we're all finished inside. First let me tell you the good news. There were no cameras or listening devices other than the one you already know about in the kitchen. The bad news is that Lanning's fingerprints are all over your house and they're a match to Charley Muir. We even found his prints in the tool room in the base?ment.”

  “Thank God there were no cameras,” Emily said, feeling huge relief about that part of it. “I don't know how I would have handled that. The rest of it is bad enough. And I can't believe he was even in the basement handling my father's tools. When I was growing up, Dad was always fixing something. He was so proud of his work?shop.”

  “Emily, we have to talk about something. We both know that Lanning is still out there and that he's a maniac. And he's a maniac who's been obsessed with you. If you are even thinking about staying here, we'll have a police officer outside 24/7 until he's appre?hended.”

  “Jake, I've given that a lot of thought in the last couple of hours and I was pretty torn about what to do. I think I'm going to stay here. But I would like an officer to be outside.”
She half smiled. “And please ask the officer to watch the back of the house carefully. Lan?ning liked to go in through the porch.”

  “Of course, Emily. The Glen Rock police will make sure that any officer assigned continually walks around the house.”

  “Thanks, Jake. That makes me feel a lot better. I'll have to intro?duce Bess to the officer on each shift so she doesn't keep barking her head off.”

  Seeing the duffle bags on the backseat of her car, Jake asked if he could carry them inside.

  As much as she trusted Jake, at this point she didn't even want to tell him what was in them. “That would be good. They're kind of heavy. I brought home some files to work on. I won't be back in the office for a couple of days. I want to be here when the locks are changed and when they upgrade my pathetic alarm system that Lan?ning got around so easily.”

  Just Take My Heart

  68

  Detective Billy Tryon returned to the courthouse at eight thirty on Monday evening to drop off some of the physical evidence from the Kirk homicide. He had stayed at the crime scene from the begin?ning and went back and forth among the three houses, supervising the collection of evidence. Most of his time was spent in the Kirk home and garage.

  After he spoke to Emily in Lanning's kitchen, he did not want to encounter her again. When she left around six, he asked Jake Rosen where she was going. Jake told him that Emily only said she had to get out for awhile.

  Billy was pretty sure she had gone to the office. His cousin Ted had told him that after Easton's outburst in court, Emily had in?formed him she was going to retrace every step in the case.

  Ted heatedly told Billy that he had been a half inch away from forbidding her to spend any more time on it, but was afraid she might end up signing an ethics complaint against him. “If she did that, I can assure you that I won't be the next attorney general,” he had railed.

  From his vantage point in the Kirk house, Billy waited to see when Emily would come back. She returned about seven thirty and he saw her talking to Jake Rosen in the driveway again. He didn't like the way they always seemed so cozy. Then he watched as Jake lugged two heavy-looking duffle bags into her house.

  When Jake came back out, Billy called him over. “What was in those bags?” he demanded.

  “Emily is going to take a couple of days off and she wanted to bring some files home to work on. Why would that bother you?”

  “I just don't like her attitude about anything,” Tryon snapped. “All right. I'm out of here. I'm going to take the evidence bags back to the office, then go home.”

  On the drive back to the courthouse, Billy Tryon was in a rage. She's trying to undo that verdict and she's trying to blame me. I'm not going to let that happen.

  She's not going to destroy me.

  And she's not going to destroy Ted.

  Just Take My Heart

  69

  After he spoke to Belle Garcia, Michael Gordon couldn't dial Richard Moore's number fast enough.

  “Hi, Mike.” Moore sounded upbeat. “I saw you at the courthouse today, but I never got a chance to talk to you. As soon as Easton's sentence was done, I raced over to the jail to tell Gregg what hap?pened. He needed to hear something positive, and I think for the first time since the verdict he has some semblance of hope.”

  “Well, he may have a lot more soon,” Mike said emphatically. “That's why I'm calling you now. I just got off the phone with a woman who gave me information about Easton. If she's telling the truth, it will blow this case apart.”

  When he relayed the contents of his conversation with Belle Gar?cia, Richard's reaction was exactly what he had expected.

  “Mike, if this woman is credible, and if she's got a receipt and a telephone book, I think I can get Gregg out on bail while it's investi?gated further.” Richard's voice became increasingly animated. “And if all this is true, I don't think he'll just get a new trial. I don't believe Emily Wallace would seek to try this again. I think she would move before Judge Stevens to vacate the verdict and dismiss the indict?ment.”

  “That's the way I see it,” Mike agreed. “These people will be here in a little while. We'll know very soon where we're going with this. If they have what they claim they have, I'm putting them on Courtside tonight, and I'd like you to be on with them.”

  “Mike, I'd be glad to, but I have to tell you that I have very mixed feelings towards these people. I don't know if I can be civil to them. Of course, I'm ecstatic for Gregg if this pans out. On the other hand, I am outraged that this guy would sit on this information because he might have to pay some back taxes. It's a disgrace and that's the kind?est word I can think of.”

  “Look, Richard, I completely understand how you feel. They should have come forward sooner and I am sure you will say that to?night. But if you come on the program and just attack them, it's not going to help Gregg. And the last thing you want to do is scare off anybody else out there who's also been afraid to speak up for what?ever reason.”

  “I hear what you're saying. I won't attack them, Mike,” Richard answered. “Maybe I'll even kiss them. But I still think it's a dis?grace.”

  “It's an even bigger disgrace if Jimmy Easton was coached by someone to tell that story,” Mike reminded him.

  “Emily Wallace would never do that,” Moore insisted.

  “I didn't say she personally did, but look at it this way: When all this comes out, won't they want to file perjury charges against Easton?”

  “I'm sure they will.”

  “Richard, trust me, if someone in the prosecutor's office or some police officer fed him information to bolster his testimony, he'll turn that person in. Then he'll swear that he was threatened with the maximum sentence on his burglary if he didn't agree to lie on the witness stand.”

  “That I can't wait to see,” Moore said vehemently.

  “I'll call you back after I talk to the Garcia couple. God, I hope this is the answer.”

  • • •

  At ten minutes of seven, Belle and Sal Garcia arrived at Michael's office. For the next half hour, with a young associate producer sitting in as a witness, he listened to their story.

  “It was a heavy marble standing lamp,” Sal explained, nervously. "A guy who had a little antique repair shop on Eighty-sixth Street used to have me make deliveries for him. Jimmy Easton was work?ing for me that day. We carried the lamp up together.

  “The housekeeper told us to put it in the living room. Then the phone rang. She asked us to wait a minute and went into the kitchen to answer it. I told Jimmy to wait for her to sign the receipt. I remem?ber I didn't want to get a ticket for being double-parked. So I left him alone in the living room. I don't know how long he was in there by himself. Then I got a call last week from my friend Rudy Sling.”

  Rudy Sling, Mike thought. His wife Reeney is the one who phoned to say she could tell us where Jimmy worked.

  “Rudy reminded me that when I moved him up to Yonkers, Eas?ton was on the job, and Rudy's wife, Reeney, caught him going through the dresser drawers. So my guess is that Jimmy may have opened that squeaky drawer looking for anything he could steal while I was on my way to the truck and the housekeeper was in the kitchen on the phone.” Sal swallowed nervously and reached for the glass of water Liz had brought in for him.

  Reeney Sling and her husband are coming in tomorrow morn?ing, Mike thought. They can back up this story. All the pieces fit. As the welcome information kept sinking in, Mike had the incongru?ous thought that now Gregg and he could play handball again at the Athletic Club.

  Sal gulped the entire glass of water and sighed. “I guess that's it, Mike. Now you know as much as I do about that delivery, except I dug out some receipts for other jobs I did for that antique repair place, to show you that this one isn't a phony.”

  Mike examined the delivery receipt with the housekeeper's sig?nature, and the pocket phone book with Jimmy Easton's name scrawled in it. Then he glanced at the dozen other receipts Sal had brought him.

  It's all h
ere, he thought. It's all here. Barely able to maintain his professional reserve, he told them that he wanted them to appear on Courtside tonight.

  “That would be fine,” Belle agreed. “Sal, it's a good thing I made you wear your good suit and tie, and Mama told me to wear this out?fit!”

  Sal shook his head vehemently. “No. Absolutely not. Belle, you convinced me to come here and I did but I don't want to go on that show and have everybody hating me. Forget it. I'm not going!”

  “Yes, you are, Sal,” Belle said firmly. “You're no different than lots of other people who would have been afraid of getting into trou?ble by telling the truth. In fact, you're a good example to them. You made a big mistake and now you are correcting it. I made a big mis?take, too. I've been sure for over a week that Jimmy Easton worked for you and I should have gone through those boxes sooner. That trial would have ended before Gregg Aldrich had to listen to that guilt)' verdict if both you and I had done the right thing. Most people will at least try to understand. And I'm going on the show whether you do or not.”

  “Mr. Garcia,” Mike said, "I hope you will reconsider. You were in the Aldrich living room with Easton on exactly the same date that he testified under oath that he met there with Gregg Aldrich to plan the murder of his wife. It is vital that people hear that directly from you.

  Sal looked at Belle's worried but determined expression and the tears she was trying to blink back. She was scared to death. They were sitting side by side on the couch in Mike's office. He put his arm around her. “If you can stand the heat you'll get, I can, too,” he said, tenderly. “I'm not going to let you go on alone.”

  “That's great,” Mike exclaimed, jumping up to shake their hands. “I'm sure you haven't had dinner yet. I'll have my secretary bring you to the conference room and she'll order some food in for you.”

  After they left his office, he called Richard Moore. “Come on in as fast as you can get here,” he said, enthusiastically. “Richard, these people are telling the truth. The delivery receipt is signed by Gregg's housekeeper, the one who died. I don't mind telling you I'm about to cry.”