by Kira Chase
“When did you manage to set that up?”
She looked slyly at her. “While you were outside bitching about your car not starting before we left the house.”
Frankie’s face flushed. “Okay, don’t rub it in.”
“Well, sweetie, next time make sure you put gas in it,” she teased.
“You’ll never let me live that down.”
“Probably not, but I will take you to pick up a can of gas on the way home.”
“Well, thank you, because if you don’t, I’ll just have to keep bumming rides off you.”
“You’ll never hear me complaining.” She picked up the phone.
Frankie winked at her as she picked up her phone and punched in the first number on the list.
* * * *
An hour later Frankie paced back and forth across the dark beige carpeted office floor. “Where the hell is she?”
Johanna looked up from her notes. “Not at a cut-rate motel, but she’s managed to remove over a hundred grand not counting what she’s run up on the credit cards.”
“So she’s in the area.”
“Yes and she’s shopped at some exclusive stores which probably means she was staying in a classy hotel.”
“Or the country house.”
Johanna frowned. “You’re not going to be satisfied until we check it out are you?”
She shook her head. “It’s only ten o’clock. We could run over there now.”
“There’s only one problem.”
She looked questioningly at Johanna. “What?”
“Where the hell is it?”
Frankie laughed. “Right. Let me give Graham a call.”
Ten minutes later they were in Johanna’s car heading out of the city. Frankie kept her eyes on the road, every so often glancing at the paper she held in her hands.
Johanna briefly took her eyes off the road and glanced at her. “Wow! I’d never find this place without directions. And I thought our road was secluded,” she said, smiling.
Frankie squinted, then jabbed a finger at the paper. “There’s a hidden road maybe about a quarter of a mile ahead according to the directions.”
Johanna slowed down as Frankie peered out of the window. “There it is!” She pointed to a barely visible marker on the right-hand side.
Johanna turned into the driveway, which turned out to be the longest one she’d ever seen. As they drove up the rutted dirt road she turned to Frankie. “If Cassandra wanted to get away from civilization, this sure is it. But I have to admit, it is peaceful.”
“And would make a perfect hiding place,” Frankie reminded her.
“I still don’t think Chelsea’s here. She’d be a fool. The sheriff and his deputies probably combed every inch of the place once they found out Cassandra had been staying here.”
“Maybe they missed something.”
“You won’t give up, will you?” she replied, half smiling.
“Not until we find her.”
Frankie’s eyes widened when the house came into view. “I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed. “It looks like a run-down shack.”
Johanna stopped the car. “I guess they figured no one would bother them or rob the place,” she said wryly. She opened the car door.
Frankie had all ready exited the passenger side door and was walking briskly toward the house. She stopped when she reached the dilapidated front porch. She placed her hand on the rail and the flaked paint came off in her hand. She carefully walked up the rotted stairs.
“Be careful, babe,” Johanna called.
“I am,” she said over her shoulder, then cupped her eyes with her hands as she peered into the front windowpane. “I can’t see too much.”
“Does it look like anyone’s there?”
“No.” She moved to the window on the other side of the door. “This looks like a bedroom. The bed is unmade.”
Johanna joined her. “Let’s try the door.”
Frankie raised her eyebrows. “You mean just walk in?”
“If it’s unlocked, who’s going to know?”
Frankie tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Guess we don’t have to worry about that.”
“After seeing the mansion I can’t imagine Cassandra staying here for two months. She must have been severely depressed. Let’s look around out back.”
They walked side by side to the back of the house. A large run-down building, in even worse shape than the house, stood directly behind it. The back porch had a step missing and Frankie cautiously sidestepped it as she made her way onto the sagging porch. Wood rot was evident in the support beam holding the porch up. The door was made of heavy wood and was securely locked. She looked into the one lone window and saw a kitchen that looked like something from the forties.
“Do you see anything?”
“This kitchen is unreal.” She moved her eyes around the room as far as they allowed her and was surprised to see a plate and a loaf of bread on the table. On the counter were a toaster and a butter dish with other condiments. “Someone was here.”
“I’m sure the sheriff’s deputies left things intact,” Johanna reminded her. “After all, it hasn’t been that long since Cassandra was murdered.
“I know, you’re right.” Frankie sighed. “But it sure as hell would have been nice to catch Chelsea prowling around this dump.”
Johanna laughed. “You tried, babe. Come on let’s go back to the office.”
In the car Frankie barely said a word as they drove back to the office. She worked quietly for the next hour, and then rubbed her tired eyes. “I’ve got to clear my head and try to look at this from another angle. Do you want to grab lunch?”
“Sounds good. Where would you like to go?”
“Anywhere is fine with me. You choose, “she said, smiling at Johanna.
“Well after that fabulous dinner last night, I think I’d better eat something light.” She grinned. “Which reminds me, we’ve got to get back in our workout routine. We’ve been lax the past few weeks.”
Frankie’s eyes seductively traveled over Johanna’s body. “I thought we were doing pretty good in that department.” She arched an eyebrow. “I’ve been doing an excellent job with my push-ups.”
“You’re so bad. I swear you have a one-track mind.”
“Only since I met you. Admit it, you’d never want me to change now, would you?”
She laughed. “No I wouldn’t.” She rose and picked up her purse. “Let’s go to The Salad Bar.”
Frankie slung her purse over her shoulder. “Want me to drive?”
“If you want to. Were you planning to come back here after lunch before our meeting or is there something else you wanted to do?”
“No. Did you have something in mind?”
“No just making sure you didn’t. I have a little paperwork I don’t want to bring home tonight. If I can finish it up it will be a bonus or I can come back here after the meeting with Stedman.”
Frankie grabbed Johanna’s arm. “Let’s come back here. I’ll help you with the paperwork. Maybe by doing something else my mind will come up with another angle. My money’s still on Graham, though. I’d love to know what he told George, but I suppose it can’t be too bad since he hasn’t been arrested. Then there’s still Mayna and Bunson. Do you think it could be either of them or both?”
Johanna bit her bottom lip. “I don’t think either of them would commit murder.”
“I still think it’s Graham, but nothing I say is going to convince you, is it? He’s got the motive. He’d stand to lose everything if Cassandra divorced him.”
“My gut instinct tells me it’s not him,” Johanna said slowly.
“Who do you suspect then?”
“Think for a minute. There’s one person who wants us to think Graham did it. He must have gone to a lot of trouble to put his plan in motion.” She pointed to a name on their list of possible suspects. “And no one would accuse him.”
Frankie looked to where Johanna’s finger was p
ointing. “That’s stretching it a little. What would be his motive?” She tossed her head.
“I’ll lay it out for you over lunch, but I will tell you this much. I think the motive is jealousy and I don’t think he meant to kill Cassandra. I think when the news broke the next morning he realized that it was the wrong corpse.”
“Okay, suppose all that is true. We still need to locate Chelsea.” She tapped her fingers on the edge of her desk. “There are too many loose ends.”
“We’ll discuss it at lunch. Come on, I’m starved,” Johanna said, making her way to the door.
Frankie followed her, making sure to put the closed sign in the window before shutting and locking the door.
Chapter 12
Johanna and Frankie followed the waitress to a small table at the back of The Salad Bar. They ordered garden salads and tall glasses of iced tea. They waited until she’d set their orders in front of them before continuing where they’d left off in the office.
“Nicholas Bower would be the last suspect on my list,” Frankie said adamantly. “No matter what you say it just doesn’t add up. He has absolutely no motive.”
“We haven’t questioned him yet,” Johanna reminded her. “I think Mayna contacted him and it pissed him off about Bunson and Cassandra.”
“And he went to the motel and waited for Bunson to show up?”
Johanna shrugged. “Maybe he was protecting Cassandra.”
“You’ve lost me. Protecting her from what?”
“When she started going to the gym at night her whole personality went through a transformation. He couldn’t stand the fact that Chelsea was tarnishing Cassandra’s good name and reputation, especially with someone like Bunson.”
“Uh…so you think Bower knew it really wasn’t Cassandra?”
“Exactly! Of course those who’d never met Cassandra never knew that the woman posing as Cassandra was really Chelsea. So when Bunson made his rendezvous with Cassandra known to the other trainers, Bower is incensed when word gets back to him. He does some snooping and learns the truth.”
Frankie screwed up her face. “It seems a little off the wall to me. Just because he was Cassandra’s former trainer doesn’t mean he’d go to any lengths to save her reputation. Maybe he didn’t give a damn about her private life. The only way it would bother him is if he and Cassandra had a little something going on the side, which according to everyone but Graham, is a ridiculous assumption.”
“Maybe it was an emotional relationship that he hoped would evolve into something physical. She may have told him personal details of her life. So when he found out that Chelsea was posing as Cassandra, he went searching for Cassandra.”
“I don’t think she’d tell him about her problems with Graham. If she was going to tell anyone, it seems like she would have told Bailey since she seemed like the closest thing to a friend Cassandra had.” Frankie stabbed at a tomato with her fork. “I think before we talk to anyone, when we go back to the office we should write down everyone we consider a suspect. We can add our personal reasons about why or why not we think those on our possible suspects list committed the murder or are covering up what they know. It might give us both some fresh insight.”
Johanna smiled. “Do you really think that’ll change who we individually suspect right now?”
“Probably not,” she conceded with a grin. “But we may pick up a clue we missed before. And it beats rehashing the same thing repeatedly.”
“I’ll try anything at this point,” Johanna said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.
* * * *
Back at the office, Frankie tore off several sheets of notebook paper and labelled them with the suspects’ names before putting the sheets into the copier. She handed Johanna her stack, then took her own and sat at her desk poring over the names and scribbling facts next to each name. Every so often Frankie stole a glance at Johanna. Johanna’s head was bent staring at the sheets. They worked for the next hour, grateful that the phone remained silent and no one entered the office.
When Frankie finished, she stood up, stretched and looked over at Johanna who was still busily writing. “I’m going to run next door and grab a couple cups of coffee. Want anything else?”
“No, thanks, babe,” Johanna replied without raising her eyes. “A cup of coffee would be great. I’ll be finished by the time you get back.”
Frankie grabbed her wallet and left the office, heading to the coffee shop. She stood in line and ordered the coffee then added cream, sugar, and snapped on the lids before picking up the cardboard tray. She walked back to the office. She peered into the double plated glass door and smiled. Johanna, with her chin propped on a hand, was still intently writing on her sheets of paper. She opened the door, moved to Johanna’s desk, and set a cup of coffee on it.
Johanna looked up with a brilliant smile on her face. “All finished!” She popped the lid off her coffee. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“We deserve a break. Not that I think this will be much of a break, though.” Frankie walked back to her own desk and settled into her chair. She leaned back and propped her boot-clad feet on the edge of her desk. “Okay, let me hear what you’ve come up with.” She popped the lid off her coffee container and took a cautious sip.
Johanna glanced at her list. “Let’s start with Graham. We know he had an affair with Chelsea.”
“Which gives him motive because his future is at risk.”
Johanna frowned. “I still say that it’s too obvious. If he did it he wouldn’t have hired us.”
“He would to throw us off his scent.”
“Okay, then. If that’s what you think tell me how he managed to pull it all off.”
“For starters, he somehow got back here, killed her and went back to New York.”
“What about the eyewitnesses who saw him drinking in his hotel’s bar?”
“They may be mistaken about the time.”
Johanna picked up her cup. “What about Chelsea?” She took a sip as she thoughtfully listened to Frankie.
“He used her to impersonate Cassandra so at a later date she could take over Cassandra’s life. He wouldn’t lose a dime and no one would be the wiser.”
“So Cassandra is living for the past two months at the country home and doesn’t know that Chelsea is impersonating her? That doesn’t make sense. Why not just kill her there where no one would hear a sound since it’s so isolated, and then bury her somewhere on the property? Who would ever know? The murderer would get away scot free.”
Frankie scratched her jaw. “We’re going around in circles here.”
“What if for some reason Cassandra got bored staying day in and day out at the country home? Maybe she drove into town for a few groceries. I’m sure she’d need some things like milk, bread and eggs. She can’t stay for two months without restocking certain items. Someone would be bound to see her. Chelsea would be taking quite a chance assuming her identity while she’s still in the area.”
“Unless she was being held against her will.” Frankie jumped up. “That’s it! She was being kept hostage at the country house. That’s how Chelsea got Cassandra’s ID and could impersonate her without having to worry about Cassandra showing up. Graham lied and was in on it.” She beamed triumphantly.
“There’s one little problem with your theory.”
Frankie arched an eyebrow. “What?”
“The Porsche supposedly never left the McHenry Estate so we still don’t know how Chelsea got to the estate in the first place.”
“She could have taken a taxi or asked someone to give her a ride.”
“Maybe. So what we know is Graham was screwing his sister-in-law and stood to lose everything if Cassandra divorced him. So he plots with Chelsea to take her hostage at the family’s country home.”
“Yes. We know he had motive.”
Johanna peered intently at her. “If he killed her or conspired to have her killed he’d lose everything anyway and spend the rest of his life in prison. He wouldn’t
gain a thing and not only would he be losing his wealth, but his freedom, too.”
“Hmmm. You have a point, but I’m still going to stick with my own gut instinct. There’s something odd about him. Look how he’s blown up at us. We should have told him to fuck himself and quit.”
Johanna grinned. “But you know we couldn’t because the cop in us came out when we realized it had turned into a murder case.”
“Okay, you’re right. Even without pay I would have wanted to see this through to its conclusion.”
The phone rang and Johanna picked it up. Frankie sipped at her coffee while Johanna concluded her conversation.
“Martin Stedman had to postpone our meeting until tomorrow at the same time. I told him it’d be no problem.”
“Sure. So what’s next?”
“I’ve listened to all of your reasons for why you think Graham is the murderer and now it’s my turn. Grab your purse.”
Frankie scratched her chin. “Ahh…you’ve lost me.” Her eyes locked with Johanna’s. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Let’s talk to Nicholas Bower.”
* * * *
Johanna and Frankie sat in the small cafeteria waiting for Nicholas Bower. They watched exercisers as they stopped in for quick refreshments after working out.
“Maybe we should sign up,” Frankie joked.
Johanna snickered. “Our own workout routine would knock most of them flat on their asses in five minutes.”
“Maybe even some of the trainers.” Frankie laughed. “I’d love to have a personal one-on-one competition with Bunson.” She giggled. “I’d like to wipe that smirk right off his face.”
“And you would, babe.”
“I understand you’re looking for me?”
The women looked up in surprise.
“Hi, I’m Nicholas Bower,” he said with a wide, easy smile as he extended his hand shaking both of theirs before sitting.
Johanna returned his smile. “We won’t take up too much of your time.”
“I don’t have another client for twenty minutes. Can I get you two anything?”
“No, thanks,” Frankie replied as she observed him. His shoulders were broad and his body was lean. He was shorter than Frankie had pictured him. His voice was soothing, almost with a hypnotic quality, which could easily allow one to hang onto his every word. He had classic good looks with a strong jaw line and deep-set dark eyes. His personality was charming and infectious. Frankie liked him instantly. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about Cassandra McHenry.” Frankie saw the pain that appeared in his eyes at the mention of Cassandra.
