by Chris Taylor
Today, he’d hoped to invite Toby out for a drink after work, but his plans hadn’t worked out. The kid had already accepted a lift home with Hannah and had declined his invitation. Max had wracked his brain in an effort to come up with a plan to entice Toby out alone, but time had almost run out. It was time to resign himself to the fact Toby, and his payout, weren’t meant to be. Better to escape with a million than get caught and spend the rest of his days in jail. Nothing about that scenario was appealing.
A sound from downstairs caught his attention and he frowned. It was getting late. At least eight o’clock. There shouldn’t have been anyone downstairs. Perhaps Bobby had come back, looking for somewhere to sleep? In addition to his other faults, last Max had heard, his nephew had defaulted on the rent and had been kicked out on the streets.
Taking his flashlight from the hook by the door, Max made his way downstairs, switching on lights as he went.
“Bobby? Is that you? What are you doing here?”
His questions bounced off the silent walls. He paused and then heard another sound. It was coming from behind the door that led to the embalming room. It sounded like a chair scraping across the floor. A little more cautiously, he approached the door and eased it open.
The room was windowless and dark. Max felt along the wall for the light switch. He blinked at the sudden illumination and was even more surprised to see Toby Black seated in a chair with his legs propped up on the counter. At the sight of his employer, the boy dropped his feet to the floor and hastily stood.
“Toby! What are you doing here?”
“I… I’m sorry, Max. I had an argument with my brother. I walked out of his apartment and I… I found myself here. I thought I might spend the night in the embalming room. It’s peaceful here, among the dead. I hope you don’t mind?”
The last was said a little anxiously and Max hurried to reassure him, hardly able to believe his good luck. He’d been wracking his brain to come up with a plan to get the boy alone—and here, he’d fallen into his lap. Life couldn’t get any sweeter.
“Of course, not, Toby. My place is yours. I’m sorry to hear about your brother. Stay as long as you like.”
Relief flooded the younger man’s eyes and Max felt the tiniest twinge of guilt.
“Thank you, Max. I… I really appreciate it. I’m sorry I disturbed you. I promise I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”
“Don’t be silly, Toby. You didn’t disturb me. I was just upstairs having a drink.” He smiled kindly at the boy. “Why don’t you come up and join me? I hate to drink alone.”
“I’m not much of a drinker, Max. Coke and lemonade is about all I do. Alcohol makes me feel funny in the head. I don’t like it.”
Max laughed in a friendly manner. “Of course, and it’s probably best that you don’t drink. But I do have Coke in the fridge upstairs, if you’re interested.”
The boy continued to look doubtful. Max tried harder. “I also have some cookies and milk and my housekeeper baked a key lime pie. Are you hungry? There’s plenty to share and I hate to eat alone.”
Toby’s eyes lit up with pleasure and it was all Max could do to hold back his grin.
“I love key lime pie,” the boy said. “I haven’t had it since I was a kid. My mom used to bake it on my birthday. I’ve almost forgotten the way it tastes.”
“Then that’s settled then,” Max replied. Slinging a friendly arm around the boy’s shoulders, he added, “How about we go upstairs?”
* * *
Lane rubbed his eyes with his fists and drew in a deep breath. Pushing open the door to the interview room, he dug deep to find the energy to conduct the final interview of the day. It was way past the end of his shift, but he couldn’t help the feeling that he was on the cusp of a breakthrough with the case against Robert Grace.
They still hadn’t been able to find the asshole. He wasn’t in any of his usual haunts and he’d been kicked out of the last place he rented. The chase would start again tomorrow. In the meantime, Lane intended to find as much evidence as he could to link Max’s nephew to the crime.
Diandra Robinson had already confirmed she’d paid the first claim into a bank account in the name of Robert Grace. Lane had traced the details back to a branch in Ashfield. A few more telephone calls had located the bank teller who had attended upon Robert Grace when he opened the account. Lane had asked her to come to the station.
She was waiting for him now. He’d get her to confirm the details and the amount deposited and then he’d head for home. Zara had been expecting him hours ago. The twins had come down with another bug. He’d hated to phone her and tell her he was going to be late.
“Mrs McInnes, I’m Detective Sergeant Lane Black. Thank you for coming in.”
He extended a hand in greeting to the middle-aged woman who sat in the chair. She shook it with barely a smile. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who was keen to get home.
“I’ll be as quick as I can, I promise,” he reassured her with a smile. “I need to tell you this interview will be recorded. Is that all right with you?”
The woman nodded. “That’s fine. Let’s just get this over with. I have a cat that needs to be fed.”
Lane acknowledged her comment with a brief nod and then got down to business. In short order, he established the woman’s full name and address. She also confirmed she was a teller at the National Bank in Ashfield and had attended upon Robert Grace.
“What can you tell me about him, Mrs McInnes? What was his demeanor like?”
“I don’t know. He appeared just like any other customer. He was there to open an account. I explained the procedure and he provided me with the required documentation. I was pleased that he’d come prepared. Many of our elderly clients don’t realize the paperwork we need. It’s a requirement of the law, you see, that we sight original documents that add up to one hundred points of ID.”
Lane frowned. His attention had snagged on something she’d said. Something about the elderly…
With his elbows on the table, he leaned forward. “Mrs McInnes, I’m curious. You mentioned your elderly clients, almost as if they had something in common with Robert Grace.”
The woman looked bemused. “I don’t understand why you find that curious, Detective. Mr Grace is a man well past his prime. Granted, he looks pretty good for his age, but still, he’s not a young man.”
A growing knot of suspicion filled Lane’s gut. He opened the file in front of him and pulled out a recent photo of Robert Grace and showed it to his witness. “Is this the man you know as Robert Grace?” he asked.
She frowned in genuine confusion and shook her head. “No, that’s not him. I’ve never seen that man before. Robert Grace is elderly, like I said. He has a wonderful head of snowy white hair. He’s in his seventies. I can’t remember his exact date of birth, but I recall thinking at the time he was around my mother’s age. She’ll be seventy-eight this summer.”
The noise of Lane’s blood rushing through his ears almost drowned out the sound of the woman’s voice. It wasn’t Bobby at all. This had all been an elaborate set up, even down to the concern and resignation Max had exhibited earlier, when Lane and his men had attended the funeral home for the purposes of arresting Robert Grace.
It was now clear it was his uncle they should have been after. Max Grace was the mastermind behind the murderous plan. His nephew was nothing more than a patsy.
“Mrs McInnes, could you describe the Robert Grace you met?”
The woman frowned. “Well, he had a head of thick snowy white hair and the sweetest face you’ve ever seen. He reminded me of my dear old Dad who passed away a couple of years ago. He—”
A sense of urgency rushed through Lane and he pushed abruptly away from the table. The woman stopped, mid-sentence and stared at him in surprise.
“Detective? Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs McInnes, I’m going to have to cut this interview short. I promise we’ll talk again tomorrow, but right now, I have
to go. I’ll send someone in to see you out.”
With that, he opened the interview room door and strode back into the squad room. It was early evening. The night shift had begun, but very few officers were scattered around the open concept office. Lane tugged out his phone and dialed Jacob. At the same time, he yelled out to anyone within hearing distance to gather close.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jacob heard the sound of his cell phone ringing from out in the other room. Hannah lay asleep beside him. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and noted the time. It was barely eight-fifteen. He felt like he’d been asleep for hours.
The lamp was still on, filling the room with golden light. With an effort, he dragged himself from the bed. He pulled on his boxers and padded down the hall. Locating his phone on the kitchen counter, he checked the screen and frowned.
Lane.
“Hey, bro. What are you up to?” he said quietly, in deference to Hannah.
“Jacob, we were wrong. It isn’t Robert Grace. The one behind the murders is his uncle. It’s fucking Max!”
Jacob frowned in confusion and tried to make sense of Lane’s words. “What the hell are you talking about?” he said.
“I interviewed the bank teller who attended Robert Grace when he opened his bank account.”
“Right. And?” Jacob prompted.
“She referred to him as being elderly. It was then that something clicked. I questioned her further and showed her a picture of the nephew. She’d never seen him before. It wasn’t Robert at all. I’m still trying to track down a photo of Max, but I’m sure she’ll identify him as the man who opened the account. Her description fits. It’s Max, Jacob. I know it.”
“Shit,” Jacob muttered. “Max? It’s Max?” He shook his head back and forth as the information finally sunk in. “How could it be Max?”
“He’s got the perfect cover. He’s a sweet old man who wouldn’t hurt a fly. In fact, to the contrary. He’s gone out of his way to portray himself as generous and kind, to a fault. He takes in homeless men. He gives them shelter, gives them a job. Treats them like they’re human, like they mean something to him. Yeah, they mean something to him, all right. They’re another life he can insure and then do away with.”
“Shit,” Jacob said again, unable to believe it. Never in his wildest dreams had he suspected Max was a killer.
“Where’s Toby?” Lane asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“I think he’s in bed.”
“You think?”
“We… We had an argument after dinner. He… He told Hannah the truth about Luke.”
“That the prick was sleeping with anyone who’d let him?”
“Yes, well, that came up, but the worst part was the bit where he confessed to—”
Jacob stopped midsentence. Lane didn’t know. He didn’t know the truth of that fateful night.
“What the hell did he confess to, Jacob? What are you trying to say?”
Lane’s impatient questions hammered into Jacob’s brain. His mind spun in circles. A moment later, his shoulders slumped on a heavy sigh. What did it matter if Lane finally knew the truth? It was time to come clean and put it behind them, once and for all.
“Toby confessed to Hannah that…that he was one the behind the wheel that night. The night that Luke was killed.”
“What?”
Lane’s shocked response didn’t come as a surprise. For more than a decade, the twins had kept the secret. Not even their mother had known. Jacob hadn’t seen the point. He’d pleaded guilty, he’d served the time. As far as he was concerned, it was over with.
“Toby was the driver that night? Are you kidding me? It was Toby who caused the accident?” Lane asked, aghast.
“Yes. I tried to stop him from saying anything to Hannah, but he was insistent. He… He told her everything.”
“Forget that, why the hell didn’t you tell me? I’m your brother! How could you have kept this from me?”
“I’m sorry, Lane. I don’t know what you want me to say. I thought it was the best thing to do.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Jacob could tell Lane was struggling with the recent revelation. He wished he could help him, but he’d spoken the truth. What was done was done. There was nothing Jacob could do.
At last, Lane sighed heavily on the other end of the phone. “This isn’t over, Jacob. We’re not done discussing this, but right now, I have more important things on my mind. Just answer me this: Why the hell would Toby tell Hannah? After all this time?”
“I don’t know, but the fact is, he did. She knows the truth.”
“How did she react?” Lane asked somberly.
“About as well as you. She was shocked, of course, and angry, but I think she’ll come around.”
“What about Toby? How’s he doing?”
“I haven’t spoken to him since his confession. I’ll go and check on him now.” Jacob walked down the hall toward Toby’s bedroom. The door was still open. He peered inside. Even in the dimness, he could see the room was unoccupied. A shaft of concern went through him.
“He’s not here. He mustn’t have come back,” Jacob murmured.
“What do you mean? Where did he go?” Lane asked, a note of urgency in his voice.
“Nowhere. He… He left after the argument. He went outside for some air. I… I thought he’d be back by now. I’ll go outside and look for him. I’m sure he’s not too far away.”
“Call me when you find him. I want to know he’s all right. I’ve had men out all day looking for Robert Grace and all along, the perpetrator’s been right under our noses.”
“So, have you arrested Max?” Jacob asked curiously.
“Not yet. I’ve only just put the pieces together. I’ll talk to the boss in the morning and get another arrest team together. The man’s so confident we’re looking at his nephew, I doubt he’ll be going anywhere.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Max is the last person I suspected. I knew The Bobster better than anybody. I can’t believe I didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Jacob. I’m trained for this kind of shit and I didn’t see this coming.”
After exchanging good-byes, Jacob dropped his cell phone onto the breakfast bar and padded back to his bedroom. His gaze fell on Hannah. Her golden hair was spread across the pillow. She looked so beautiful, like an innocent angel, sound asleep. Tugging on jeans and a T-shirt, he switched off the lamp and quietly left the room.
The night was cool and he shivered a little. The sound of the occasional car passing by broke the stillness. The smell of parsley, sage and thyme teased his nostrils as he walked by his neighbor’s herb garden. Her apartment was dark. She must be visiting her grandson again. He lived two hours to the south.
The front garden that faced out onto the street was empty. Jacob walked around the building to the back. It was darker there and the shadows of the tenants’ communal clothes lines looked like racks of thin, ghostly fingers in the night.
“Toby?” he called out, peering into the darkness. There was no reply. He stubbed his toe on a rock that bordered the path that led back to the building and cursed. He should have brought a flashlight. This was stupid, walking around blindly in the dark.
“Toby! Can you hear me? It’s time to go back inside. I’m sorry, mate. I know you’re upset. Let’s go and talk about it.”
Nothing moved, not even a breath of wind. The night remained silent. Jacob frowned. Where the hell was he? There was no way his brother had left the apartment complex. Toby was terrified of the dark. Jacob had been surprised when his twin had stormed out—testament to how upset he’d been.
With a faint stirring of panic swirling low in his gut, Jacob turned and headed back the way he’d come. He spied his phone on the breakfast bar as he entered. He picked it up and dialed Lane’s number. His brother answered on the first ring.
“Did you find him? How is he?” Lane asked without p
reamble.
“No, Lane. I didn’t find him. He’s not outside the building. He’s not anywhere.”
“What the hell do you mean, he’s not anywhere?”
Jacob bit back an impatient retort. It wouldn’t help matters to get into an argument. Lane was just trying to find their brother, like Jacob was.
“I mean, I walked around the building. He’s not here. He must have gone for a walk, or something.”
“At this time of night? He hates the dark!” Lane retorted.
“Yeah, he does,” Jacob agreed. “Or at least, he used to. It’s been a long time since we had anything to do with him, remember? It’s my guess he’s spent many nights in the dark since he left home. Perhaps he’s gotten used to it?”
Lane growled something indistinguishable under his breath and then sighed. “What about his cell phone? You told me Hannah bought him one. Have you tried calling him?”
“No, but I’ll do that now. Hold on.” Jacob found Toby’s number and dialed it on his home phone. The call rang out. Jacob walked around the apartment, but couldn’t hear the phone. He guessed that unless Toby had it on silent, he must have taken it with him. Eventually, the call went to voicemail.
“At least we know it’s still switched on,” Lane said when Jacob reported back to him.
“Yeah, I wonder how much battery he has left? I don’t know how many times I’ve reminded him to put it on the charger.”
“Let’s hope he followed your advice for a change,” Lane replied, his voice dry.
“What are we going to do if he doesn’t answer?” Jacob asked. “I can’t let him disappear again, Lane. I’ve only just found him.”
Jacob heard the quiet desperation in his voice, but there was nothing he could do. What he said was true. Over the years, he’d missed his twin like he’d miss an arm or leg. It was a hole that was always there, bearable for the most part, but never going away. The moment he’d spied Toby in the ED and had realized it was his twin…well it was one of the happiest days of his life. He couldn’t simply let his brother up and walk out of his life a second time.
