Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery)
Page 15
There were so many secrets out there lurking...
…My car sat idling in the cold November twilight, as my mind dismissed those initial encounters and shifted back to the present. I stared down at my house. Exactly what had I accomplished? I knew if I wanted the truth I had to have patience. Even so, every so often, I still had reservations about my decision to move to this house and pursue this crazy venture.
But then I would think of Stephen, shadowed by the bizarre circumstances of his death and me with all those unanswered questions dumped on my doorstep, and like a persistent, intrusive visitor, my anger returned, knocking loudly, and my resolve ultimately always answered.
I had a burning desire for the truth, whether I wanted to hear it or not. I couldn’t just shy away from what I might find out about Stephen, or myself for that matter. I knew that it was going to hurt big time; and like Martha, I felt it in my bones. There was an unknown threat out there. I was convinced of it.
I just had to find it first, before it found me.
Chapter 6
Cough It Up
As I hung up the phone, my ears were still ringing. It was my agent, Sandra. I knew I would be hearing from her. Both Sandra and my editor were tired of waiting for the update I never sent. I had purposely not returned their numerous calls, hoping to buy some time, but they only bought that for so long.
“Friend or not,” Sandra said bluntly, “you should be working on your book. It’s time to get back to a regular writing schedule. Life moves on and readers have short memories because loyalty only goes as far as your next book. Focus on the here and now and get back to work. Besides, you have a contract for two more books, have you forgotten? Samantha, you don’t have a big one, but it is still a binding one. I like you personally, but don’t push the issue. I’ve got to deal with the publisher.”
Months ago, those words would have stung, but now I realized that Sandra was being realistic and making financial sense. We all had a stake in my book, plus I needed the money more than ever before. I had neglected to mention to them that my story had taken a new direction, but I was fairly confident they would be enthusiastic when they saw the finished manuscript. That is, if I unraveled the truth, wrote it all down, and finally sent it to them.
The pressure was on, and if my strategy was to work, I needed to refine my notes and keep on writing. I flipped open my computer and resumed typing my book and my life.
Chapter 7
I Don’t Have A Clue
Why were Stephen’s brakes tampered with? So far, the authorities had zero. Me? I was at a loss too. I had gone through his personal belongings, unable to find anything unusual or suspicious, except for one detail. I found it odd that his laptop was missing from the car at the accident scene. The police said the area was thoroughly searched. I knew he never went anywhere without his laptop and allowed no one near it. That fact was written in cement. Period.
After the identification, the police told me they would see me the next day to follow up with further questions. “Go home and get some rest,” they had said. Besides, I wasn’t in the best shape and finally did follow their instructions. Later, at home, I sat in the dark for what seemed like forever, stunned and unable to move. Isolation and fear paralyzed me as the minutes and hours slowly ticked by on my bedroom clock. Reluctantly, I finally ventured downstairs to Stephen’s office, determined to see whether the missing laptop was perhaps in his office. Maybe he had hidden it before going on his trip. I remembered hesitating before turning the knob.
No, I knew Stephen too well, and was certain he would have taken it on his trip. After an extensive search, I gave up and went to his desk, approaching his desktop computer. I paused, realizing it would be an exercise in futility. How was I to find out anything when I didn’t even know his password? It didn’t matter, I realized then, as I spotted small screws strewn across his desk. Leaning close, my breath caught. His hard drive had been removed.
Alarmed, I called the police. They fingerprinted the room and checked the house thoroughly. No other prints but his were found on the computer. Would Stephen remove his own hard drive? Why? Worse yet, did someone else remove it while wearing gloves? That would mean someone had been in my house. Was I home at the time?
On the evening of Stephen’s death, I had received several phone calls, but the person hung up the second I answered. Were they checking to see if I was home? If so, why? Were they still watching me? Did they think I knew what was on his computer, and did that now put me at risk? I couldn’t extricate myself from this mess if I tried. I didn’t want a life where I would always be looking over my shoulder in fear. Why no other prints? But then again, why would someone be so sloppy as to leave fingerprints behind? If there were answers out there, I was positive they had to be in some overlooked details from Stephen’s behavior and his past.
One surfaced immediately. Why had Stephen ignored my writing, acting somewhat dismissive? He would give a fleeting glance at the checks, totally disinterested. Upset, I opened my own checking account. What hurt me the most was the new book deal I had finally landed and was thrilled about and wanted to share my excitement.
The minute I found out, I managed to catch him on his cell phone. This was too important for voicemail. I was well versed from past experience how he hated to be interrupted on business trips. He claimed it was a distraction and he needed to stay focused. But I had convinced myself this would override any objections he might have once I told him about my new contract…
“What is it now?” he said, his words laced with hostility.
At first, I was caught off guard by his tone and didn’t speak right away. I had forgotten that with his caller ID, he already knew exactly who was calling him. Finally I said, “Stephen?”
“Yeah? What? I’m busy!”
“I didn’t mean to…”
“Just say it, Sam!”
“But, Stephen…”
“I haven’t got all day,” he protested, impatiently.
“It’s about my new book contract,” I explained. “I just had to…”
“And you called me for that?” he shot back.
“But it’s more than I’ve ever made before. I just wanted to share with you my…”
“And this ridiculous thing couldn’t wait? You had to call me for that? I don’t have time for this now!”
I was speechless, rigidly waiting for his next verbal slap.
Stephen suddenly did an about-face. “Look, I can’t talk now,” he said calmly. “Okay? I’ve got to cut this conservation short.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was still too stung by his hurtful remarks.
Stephen finally broke the silence between us. “I know what I have to do, Sam. The key to everything is behind me.”
“…What do you mean? …What key?” I asked, hesitantly.
“It could get much worse,” he explained. “This whole thing was driving me crazy. There could be recriminations, you know, but I’m just not sure anymore.”
“Sure of what?” I asked, confused. “What recriminations?”
He turned on a dime. “Don’t be so dense, Sam! Follow… The answer is there…” He paused. “…When you see me…”
“Stephen, what are you talking about?”
He sighed. “It was never meant to be. Samantha, you…” He hesitated. Suddenly, he whispered into the phone. “Don’t you understand? You have everything now. I’ve got to go. Someone’s coming… I…always thought…he… it was…”
“This isn’t making sense,” I replied, frustrated and thoroughly confused by his incoherent outbursts. “Stephen, what’s wrong?”
“You… understand…decision’s made. It’s too late.” Click. And just like that, he was gone.
It’s too late for what? I have what? Where? I held the phone for a few more seconds, blankly staring at it, thinking maybe I was hallucinating and maybe this exchange never took place. But it was real all right. And I was stone sober. And still clueless...
At th
e time, my thoughts were all over the place as my bruised sense of self replayed that incoherent conversation over and over in my head. I tried to piece together his loosely-strung words. Nothing jelled.
The final verbal assault arrived a day later, with a vigorous knock at my door and the delivery of the shocking news that Stephen was dead.
Why did Stephen always see life in black and white, while I saw only color? Apparently, neither one of us was capable of seeing that gray area that always seemed to linger in between.
And this gray area held the answers.
~~~~
Other Books by Peggy A. Edelheit
The Samantha Jamison Mystery Series
The Puzzle (Volume 1)
Without Any Warning (Volume 2)
86 Avenue du Goulet (Volume 3)
A Lethal Time (Volume 4)
Mouth Of The Rat (Volume 5)
A Samantha Jamison Detour
The Riviera is Burning (Volume 5.5)
Visit my website: http://samanthajamison.com
About The Author
Peggy A. Edelheit has three sons, lives with her husband & Miniature Schnauzer, Samantha II & spends time between Bucks County, PA and South Florida.
Visit the author’s website: http://www.samanthajamison.com
or
Twitter: @samanthajamison
I am so grateful to all my readers for all your wonderful
feedback and support. Thank you, Peggy