Scribbling notes as fast as she could write, Merlene said, “Do you have a record of her arrival time?”
The man looked in a file and gave her the day of arrival, the pilot’s name, and name of the charter company—Lanier Flyers, north of Atlanta. Damn if the scenario didn’t plug in perfectly to the theory of her client killing her husband. The cops already had the motive, and this information proved opportunity. Merlene shook her head as she realized the lengths Pat had taken to hide her tracks. An out-of-the-way airstrip almost in the Keys and a rented pilot from Atlanta would certainly confuse anyone trying to follow her movements.
So the cops were right. No one could reach any other conclusion. Pat had murdered her husband.
Theory had been one thing, but reality was something quite different. Feeling as if she’d been punched in the gut, Merlene closed her eyes, nauseous at how easily she’d been duped.
Her unknowing participation had helped Pat kill her husband.
“Could I have a copy of the record?” Merlene asked.
The man shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” he said, moving to an old machine.
“Thanks,” Merlene said. “The police will be in touch for more information.”
“What’d she do?” he asked.
“Same old, same old,” Merlene said. “She got greedy.”
* * *
“DAMN, CODY, LIGHTEN UP. You’re acting like a wet cat cornered by a dog.”
Cody glared at his partner across their adjoining desks. “I don’t want to be here all night.”
Jake returned the look. “Who said we have to get all this paperwork done today?”
Cody slammed his pen on the desk and started to say something but halted when he caught a glimpse of Jake’s grinning face.
Shaking his half-bald head, Jake said, “I take that back. You’re more like a rooster without his hens—mean as hell and taking it out on everybody else. Why don’t you do your partner a favor and call one of your old flames?”
“Shut up, Jake.”
“Come on. How about sweet Melissa? Remember her? I’ll bet she can make you forget Mrs. Saunders.”
Cody stood suddenly so that his chair scooted on its rollers halfway across the squad room. “Drop dead, partner.”
Jake leaned back in his chair and laughed. “Okay, okay. Maybe Melissa is a bad idea, but I’m sure you can come up with someone to scratch that itch.”
Cody needed fresh air, fast. Turning away from Jake, he headed for the door while his partner kept blabbering behind him.
“You want my wife to fix you up with one of her friends from aerobics class? She’s been after me to have you to dinner for months. Could be fun, old buddy. Exactly what you need.”
Cody wanted to flip Jake the finger, but he kept walking out the door. Better to ignore Jake’s needling. The ribbing would end sooner if he did.
“Hey,” Jake yelled. “I thought you wanted to finish this paperwork.”
Outside, the oppressive summer heat hit Cody like a hot, wet sponge. Sweat trickled down his back, but he kept walking, ignoring the outraged stares of other pedestrians as they sidestepped out of his way.
He should never have confided his feelings for Merlene to Jake. Big mistake. His partner had everyone in the unit treating his failed romance like a joke, but Cody hadn’t felt like laughing for a long time.
How long? Time hung around his neck like a .357 Magnum, dragging him down. Had it been only a week? He couldn’t sleep, so he spent most of his time at the station, Merlene’s betrayal gnawing at him constantly. He slowed his angry walk, his guts twisting into knots as he relived the morning he discovered she was actually considering selling the video. He’d left her pale and quiet, hands clenched at her sides, gray eyes welling with unshed tears.
Then three days ago, head held high, she’d walked away from him, saying she hoped they wouldn’t see each other again. How could he bear that?
She wasn’t on the run, and that convinced him, if not his boss, of her innocence. Maybe she bent the rules on occasion, but Merlene was no killer. Every time he managed to think it through calmly, he came to the same conclusion.
Problem was, when Merl was involved, he let his emotions trump common sense. He let his temper flare out of control.
Still...he had to give up any fantasies of a life with her. Even if they worked things out, if she agreed to marry him, she’d grow restless, dissatisfied with the life of a working man. Working man? Hell, he was a cop. She hated cops. His friends were all cops. How would she deal with that?
Cody pulled in a deep breath, humidity and anger almost choking him. Maybe he had to forget the idea of a future with her, but he would never forget her. Forget Merlene’s haunting face and smile? No way. Not if he lived to be a hundred.
His thoughts clearing, Cody looked around, not surprised to find that his walk had brought him to the steps of the Richard E. Gerstein Justice Building. It was a huge, square structure, rather startling because of its size. But, hey, Miami attracted an overload of criminals.
He counted up to the fifth floor where this morning he’d met with Rafael to go over strategy for the preliminary hearing.
Since Sean Feldman had pushed for a quick arraignment, Rafael still proceeded with the case as if the video were gospel. Until they could sort out the mess, Cody wanted Neville behind bars. He’d shot a liquor store clerk and had defrauded insurance companies out of thousands of dollars. He belonged in prison.
Cody’s mind raced as he walked, searching for ways to prove Merlene’s innocence to Montoya. If Neville didn’t murder Dr. Johnson, then he also didn’t kill Ray Price. Why would he? Neville needed Price alive to corroborate the fact that Johnson had already been shot when they’d arrived that night.
If Neville didn’t murder Price, then who did? Who had a motive?
Cody glanced at his watch. Merlene should be meeting with the prosecutor right now to run through her testimony.
Pushing through a revolving door, Cody acknowledged that although he had any number of legitimate reasons to see Rafael, he’d come here for only one purpose.
He wanted to see Merlene.
* * *
“THAT SHOULD DO IT, Merlene.” Rafael Alvarez flipped several note-filled pages in his yellow legal pad and made quick check marks. “I’ve got all I need.” Placing his gold pen on the desk, he smiled at her. “You’ll do great.”
Merlene nodded, thinking the raven-haired Mr. Alvarez rather young to be the lead prosecutor in this whole medical fraud/murder case. Maybe that was why she hadn’t told him about Pat’s lover, but deep down she knew it was because she wanted to give Cody the information first herself.
“Remember Feldman can’t do a thing to you now. I don’t want you to be nervous.”
“I’ll be nervous, anyway,” she said, rising. Mr. Alvarez had been polite and respectful during the interview, and she intended to do a great job when she testified. She’d look like the ultimate professional and give clear, concise testimony that would blow everyone away. Cody would be proud of her in spite of himself.
Rafael came to his feet and extended a hand. “Be in Judge Nelson’s courtroom by nine a.m. I might not need you, but...” He trailed off, looking toward his office door. “Cody? Did you forget something?”
Cody? Merlene whirled around, a rush of exhilaration surging through her.
“Oh. Sorry, man.” Cody stood in the doorway unsmiling, watching her intently but speaking his words to the prosecutor. “Didn’t know you were busy.” The muscle in his jaw twitched.
“We’re finished,” Rafael said. “Just getting Merlene prepped in case Feldman demands her testimony.”
Cody nodded once. “Good.”
Frozen in place, Merlene didn’t utter a word. Cody remained by the door, shifting from one foot to the o
ther, obviously ill at ease. Any hope that he’d come to see her vanished. From his guarded expression, he didn’t want to come within ten miles of her. Well, the hell with Cody Warren.
She lifted her chin. “Good to see you, Detective.”
“Mrs. Saunders.”
She flinched at the lack of warmth in his voice.
“See you at the hearing, Merlene,” Rafael said. “And don’t worry.”
She heard the prosecutor’s voice on her long trip to the door but couldn’t formulate a response. Cody stepped out of her way, his gaze never leaving her face.
She attempted a smile, but her lips refused to curl upward, so she passed him without saying another word, kicking herself for her excitement at seeing him. When would she learn?
* * *
“MERLENE, WAIT.”
Cody caught up with her as she approached the white Ford sedan she’d rented. She unlocked the door and turned, wondering why he’d come after her, wishing her pulse hadn’t kicked into high gear.
“Where’s your car?” he asked. He crossed his arms and stood with his legs wide apart.
She leaned against the door for support. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Pat would recognize my Toyota.”
“Do you really think you can learn anything by surveilling your client?”
“I intend to prove or disprove your new theory about Dr. Johnson’s murder. You remember, the one where his wife and I did him in for money?”
“I remember,” he said.
Merlene ignored the warning that flashed in Cody’s blue eyes. Why should she watch what she said to him?
“Pat has a lover at least ten years younger than her late husband,” she blurted. The surprise that flickered across his face filled her with such immense satisfaction she almost smiled. So Mr. Hotshot Detective didn’t know everything.
She shrugged. “Maybe that’s why Pat shot the good doctor, if she did. She wanted his money but not him.”
“You’re positive she has a lover?”
“Trust me, I have proof.” When he didn’t answer, she said, “It’s what I do, remember?” He nodded and ran a hand through already tousled hair. “That certainly gives Pat another motive for murder.”
Recognizing the frustration in Cody’s voice, Merlene wondered if he had anything besides a motive. She certainly had a lot more, and she ought to tell him. Had the precious police not found any evidence? She suddenly had to know.
“What proof do you have of Pat’s guilt?” she asked.
His lips tightened. “You’re still a suspect, Merlene. I can hardly reveal the status of my case to you.”
“Of course not,” she said, deciding in that instant she’d sing off-key to the jeers of thousands before she’d tell Cody beans about her investigation. Maybe she’d even turn her findings over to Sean Feldman instead of Cody. Let the “good guys” be embarrassed in front of the judge. See how smug Cody acted then.
She bit her bottom lip knowing she could never betray him no matter how furious she got. She scribbled the name and address of Pat’s lover on one of her cards and handed it to him.
“The grieving widow should be with lover boy right about now.” Glancing at her watch, Merlene said, “I imagine she’ll be with him for about two hours, if you’re interested.”
“Two hours? That’s all?” Their eyes met. A jolt of sensation shot to her feet when his warm fingers slid across hers to accept the card.
Refusing to show emotion she was better off denying, she opened her car door and stepped behind it, relieved to have something solid between them. Damn Cody. He always managed to tip her off balance.
“If there are no more questions, Detective, I have business.”
His blue gaze bored into hers. “What kind of business? Are you still watching Pat?”
She slid into the seat and shut the door. “Since I’m a suspect, I can hardly reveal the status of my case to you.”
* * *
AS SHE DROVE away from Cody’s flushed face, Merlene allowed herself to enjoy the delicious notion she’d discovered information he didn’t have. Ha! Even if he was the detective with more experience.
Of course, dragging down that tiny ray of sunshine was the cold, wide distance between them.
She sighed, knowing Cody would confirm the report she’d given him. He’d run a check on the boyfriend and hopefully gain a substantial lead.
And while Pat remained busy with lover boy, she’d search the Johnson residence. She withdrew her cell phone and called D.J., who was, thankfully, steadily improving and insisted on helping.
When he answered she said, “Are you in place? I’m on my way.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do.”
“Be careful, Merl, and wear gloves.”
“Don’t worry. Let me know the minute Pat leaves Vasquez’s place. Oh, Detective Warren might show up. I want to know if he does.”
Flipping the phone shut, she considered what she was about to do but didn’t care if she was breaking the law. She wasn’t going to steal anything except the truth. She wouldn’t sleep easy until she had concrete evidence Pat had hired her to frame men who, while not exactly upstanding citizens, didn’t deserve a murder rap. Who knew what clues existed inside the Johnson home? At the very least she could ascertain whether the theory she and D.J. had worked out was feasible.
With a shudder, she remembered the spreading pool of blood reflected in the mirrors of the foyer. Then her memory flashed to the awkward position of Doc Johnson’s crumpled body. D.J. figured the doc had been facing somebody in the rear of the house when she described the way the body fell. She didn’t know much about crime scenes and entry wounds, but why would he look back if Neville Feldman and Ray Price came through the front door?
Likely part of the troubling forensics Cody had mentioned.
She intended a good look at the layout of the Johnson home, to poke around in a few hiding places. Who knew what she might find?
If she was really lucky, maybe a receipt from Lanier Flyers. No good without a warrant, but maybe Cody could find a way to obtain one.
And since she still had the key, she’d half convinced herself her visit couldn’t be considered trespassing. Yeah, right. Tell that to the judge, Merlene.
She backed into the Johnsons’ driveway so no one could see her license plate from the street, hoping her car wouldn’t arouse any suspicion. She bet neighbors speculated every time they drove by this house, forming theories of their own about the murder. But her car was a rental. With a recent death in the family, neighbors would expect out-of-town visitors.
Pat’s kids remained in Blowing Rock, so Merlene knew the house would be empty. She intended to be in and out quickly—no more than thirty minutes, tops—although Pat had been spending longer and longer each afternoon with the boyfriend.
Did the woman have any idea that the police were on to her? Probably not or she’d behave with a little more discretion.
Merlene’s legs wobbled as she hurried across the front yard, wanting to duck out of sight behind the foliage. With an eerie feeling, she realized she was mimicking Neville Feldman’s actions the night of the murder. She hoped no one watched her with a video camera.
On the porch, she fumbled with her keys, looking for the one Pat had given her. There. She cursed her trembling fingers as it took several tries to insert the key into the lock. She didn’t want to touch anything but the key. For a moment, heart rate galloping, she feared Pat had changed the locks...but the door swung open smoothly.
Merlene sucked in a deep breath, knowing she was truly crossing that proverbial line here.
She looked behind her. No one was there.
Trying not think about what she was doing, how much trouble she could get in, Merlene stepped across
the threshold and closed the door behind her with an elbow.
She hurried through the chilly foyer, avoiding a glance into the mirrors so she wouldn’t relive memories of the doctor’s dead body.
Inside the main house, she stopped and listened hard. Nothing but the soft hum of the refrigerator in the nearby kitchen.
As she stepped forward, a loud click echoed through the house. For a heart-stopping second, Merlene knew her life had ended, but soon realized the air-conditioning compressor had automatically rumbled on. She closed her eyes and heaved a shaky breath.
Damn but she was jumpy. And for good reason. She needed to complete her search and get the hell out of there.
She whirled in a circle, looking for the best location to hide from visitors at the front door. Well, bless my bones if there aren’t several such spots.
She moved into the dining room and decided this room was the ideal spot for an ambush.
Did Dr. Johnson even know that his wife had come home? Or had Pat remained hidden?
How had she felt while she waited? Had she quietly paced, knowing when she heard Neville’s knock it was time to blow out her husband’s brains? She and D.J. theorized that afterward she’d run out the back door, having scoped out a clear way through a neighbor’s yard to safety.
Pat could have been halfway to Old Cutler Airport before Cody had arrived that night.
Merlene snapped on latex gloves and searched drawers for any information that would prove Pat had been in Miami the night of the murder. Inside an old fashioned roll-down desk, she found bank statements with miniature copies of canceled checks. She released a soft whistle when she saw the amount of money Pat had paid to her lover in the past month. No checks for Lanier Flyers.
As she rounded the corner to search kitchen drawers, the front door creaked. She froze at the sound of a step into the foyer.
Terrified that Pat had returned, Merlene ran into the kitchen. She pressed her back against the refrigerator and held her breath.
Why hadn’t D.J. called her? Or maybe this wasn’t Pat?
Neville? Of course not. He was in jail. Then who?
To Trust a Cop Page 23
