by Simon Wood
“I have.”
“It’s never easy being violent.”
“No.” Proctor’s single-word answer seemed to come from a faraway place.
His clients required propping up at this phase of the operation. They were frightened, vulnerable, and needed someone to turn to. A friend. A father confessor. He was all of those things, despite being the one who’d placed them in that position. Their willingness to turn to him despite all he’d done to them never failed to surprise him. He wondered if there was a psychological term for it. It wasn’t quite Stockholm syndrome. Maybe there was no term for it. Maybe he’d created something new.
“It’s important that you keep it together. Would you like someone to talk to? Someone to help you through this? I can arrange something for you.”
Proctor was silent for a moment before nodding. “I think that would be good.”
It paid to have someone close to the clients. Proctor would keep his shit together as long as he felt supported. Roy had a defrocked therapist on retainer for these situations. “I’ll set something up. Look, there’s something else we need to discuss. You went a little crazy the other night with Richard. The crime scene reports showed a very messy and ugly affair.”
Proctor’s gaze fell to his hands. Hands that had claimed a life.
“That has placed a lot of scrutiny on this killing.”
“I know. He fought back, and I panicked. I hit him again and again. I wanted to stop, but I just kept hitting him.”
Proctor was on the verge of tears. It was time to back off. If Roy pushed him too hard, he’d shatter, and Roy didn’t want that. Not if it could be avoided. He needed Proctor to hold it together for the sake of Infidelity Limited. He had to be coddled for now. Roy threw an arm around the man’s shoulders.
“It’s understandable, but I expected more from you. We handed you a very clean assignment that made it impossible for the police to investigate. You’ve handed me a very messy outcome that will require a lot of effort to sanitize.”
“I’m sorry.”
Roy brushed the apology away. “What’s happened has happened. All we can do is work with what we’ve got, and luckily, we have plenty going for us, thanks to your diligent preparation.”
“Really?” Hope entered Proctor’s voice.
“Yes. The police have little to go on. While there’s a crime scene, they don’t have much in the way of physical evidence or witness accounts to move their investigation forward. See how well this operation works?”
Proctor nodded.
“You must have been a real mess after it was over.”
“I was. I had blood all over me. There was so much blood.”
Roy placed a hand on Proctor’s thick shoulder. “I’m sure, but it’s okay now. Those clothes are in the bag, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Every stitch?”
“Underwear. Socks. Everything. You have it all.”
“Good. I’ll make sure it’s disposed of.”
That was a lie. It would all be rebagged, cataloged, and stored in a cooler back at the house to be produced at a later date if needed.
“What about your car?”
“I put down plastic and had it detailed afterward, just as you instructed.”
“My people are going over it as we speak, just so that every speck of DNA is eradicated. We can’t be too careful.”
“We can’t. Thanks.”
“Naturally, we will be incurring costs that we’ll have to recover from you.”
“Roy, you can’t.”
Roy raised his hand to cut Proctor off. “I hadn’t anticipated you getting so carried away. Remember, I’m cleaning up your mess. It’s not fair that I should foot the cost, now is it?”
“No,” Proctor said with a heavy note of defeat. “How much?”
“Five thousand.”
Proctor opened his mouth to object, but nodded instead. “I’ll get you the money.”
“Good.”
Proctor was silent for a moment before he said, “Now that I’ve done this for you, is it over?”
“Over?”
“Yes, over. I’ve paid you. I’ve killed for you. I don’t want this to continue. I want it to be over.”
Roy expected this request. It always came at this stage. “You’ve kept up your part of the bargain, and I respect that.”
“Then I’m done.”
“Well, not quite.”
“Not quite? What more do you want from me?”
Roy held up his hand again. “Patience. That’s all I ask. We’re at a delicate stage. The police are still in the middle of their investigation. You’ll be done when they are done. I don’t think I have to remind you that if I go down, you go down with me.”
“You said that if I brought you everything from last night, I could have the murder weapon and everything you had on Nicole’s murder back. Because all this”—Proctor pointed at the plastic bag—“is what you hold over Richard Shaw’s wife. That’s the cycle. I’ve done my bit. Now it’s your turn. Give me Nicole’s things, please. You promised, Roy.”
Proctor sounded like a child to Roy, gullible and overly trusting. Proctor was a weak man, and Roy had eroded his will over time to the point where good judgment was no longer part of his character. It was sad to witness, but Roy felt powerful for it.
“I said you could have it back when the police had dropped their investigation. That hasn’t happened yet.”
Proctor shook his head back and forth like an obstinate child. “That’s not fair. You have everything, and I have nothing.”
“Really? I don’t think so. You have your kids, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Nicole is no longer a thorn in your side?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then there you have it. You have everything you wanted, while I have all the burden of risk. I have to balance some of it on you. That’s only fair.”
Proctor jumped to his feet. “No, Roy. I’m done. I’m out.”
Roy kept his tone cool and measured. He’d already put the fear of God into Proctor. He wanted to appear reasonable and calm. It diffused any potential panic. If he was calm, then Proctor would be too. He couldn’t look like a loose cannon. Making clients think he was out of control was a surefire way to send them running to the cops. “I say when you’re done, John. Not you. Remember, I can turn you over to the police at any time.”
“You can’t. You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t test me.”
The threat shoved Proctor back into his seat. He sagged under the weight of his own guilt.
“Do I have to worry about you? Do I have to take steps?”
Proctor shook his head.
Roy believed him—for now. Proctor had something of value to protect, his kids. Anything his clients truly valued kept them in line. The ones that didn’t have that were the ones to worry about. He stood and picked up the Hefty bag.
“I’m going now. You just hang out here. My people will be along to pick you up when they’ve finished with your car. I’ll have one of my counselors get in touch too. Sound good?”
Proctor nodded halfheartedly.
“Hang in there, John. This’ll all be over before you know it. You just have to be smart. You can be smart, can’t you?”
CHAPTER NINE
Olivia woke up just after five in the morning. She tried to go back to sleep, but the bed seemed vast without Richard, and she didn’t seem to possess the body heat to keep it warm. Clare had gone home in the early hours. Olivia knew her sister’s patterns well. She wouldn’t want to be around while Olivia dealt with the responsibilities that came with Richard’s death.
She hadn’t slept, not really. Every time she closed her eyes, she was either back in the car with Roy as he sold the virtues of Infidelity Limited or watching Richard in the arms of his mistress.
Padding through the house, she felt a Richard-sized hole. Normally, even when she had the house to herself, she felt his presence, but no
t now. He was never coming home, and that made the house a little colder, a little darker.
She got in the shower to make herself feel human again. In the kitchen, she made herself coffee and breakfast that she had no real intention of eating, but it helped pass the time before she got down to the real business of the day—ruining people’s mornings by informing them of Richard’s death.
She started with Richard’s family, which was the most difficult. His parents had retired to Idaho years earlier. Her in-laws hadn’t approved of their marriage, and Richard’s murder seemed to justify their lack of faith. She withstood the veiled resentment from Richard’s mother during the exchange. It took everything Olivia had not to mention her precious boy’s infidelity, but it wasn’t the time or the place. She had to focus on the big picture, and Richard’s mom wasn’t part of it. After notifying family, she called their friends and acquaintances. She listened to some cry, while others offered their love and support. It all felt like nails being drawn across a chalkboard. She couldn’t deal with their pain or condolences. It wasn’t what she deserved.
Richard’s office came next. She psyched herself up to go through a second round of shock, dismay, and condolences, but she needn’t have bothered. Finz had beaten her to the punch. He was certainly off and running with his investigation.
It was easier talking to the bank, the credit card companies, the life insurance company, their lawyer, and the various other forms of officialdom. They didn’t know Richard or her, so their hollow sympathies had little effect on her.
By lunchtime she’d had enough. She got in the car and drove to the one place she wanted to be.
Shary Court was a dead-end street lined with businesses ranging from light engineering to a print-and-graphic-design outfit. She had to come here sooner or later. She had to see the place where Richard had died.
If the police had cordoned off a crime scene, there was no sign of it now. Vehicles lined the street, and everyone seemed to be going about their normal business. It was as if Richard’s death had never happened. Almost. Not all traces of Richard’s murder were so easily erased. Blood still remained on the sidewalk and wall. A bloodstain was a sad epitaph to memorialize Richard. The police had picked over the scene, probably bagged every grain of dirt and dropped trash, but there was only so much they could do about the blood. It looked as if someone had washed the area, but not scrubbed it. Only time would remove all remnants. She hoped time would take its time.
Someone had left a small bouquet of flowers. That was nice. She should do the same. She picked up the bouquet and looked for a card so she could thank the person who’d left them, but they hadn’t left a note.
A man came out of the welding-and-fabrication shop that was the backdrop to Richard’s murder. His face was screwed up into a grimace. She guessed there’d been more than a few tourists through here since last night. His expression softened at the sight of her. He must have recognized the pain on her face.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
Olivia returned the flowers to the sidewalk. “My husband died here last night.”
“I’m sorry. My condolences. Would you like to come in? You’re welcome to use the restroom or have a cup of coffee.” He smiled. “I’ll warn you. The coffee isn’t great.”
Olivia smiled back. “That’s okay. I just wanted a moment here. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course. Take your time. If you need anything, just come in. And if anyone gives you any trouble, let me know. The name’s Tom.”
“Thanks, Tom. I’m Olivia.”
Tom disappeared back inside the building, and she wondered if he had left the flowers.
She peered down at the bloodstained sidewalk. Finz hadn’t gone into detail, but the bloodstains told a story. One stain almost two feet across marked where Richard had fallen, but the dozens and dozens of rust-colored splatters covering a much-wider area must have been the result of the blows Richard had endured. She pictured him lying there after the killer had beaten him and left him to die. The thought caused a shiver.
This was her fault. She’d made the decision that had gotten Richard killed. Shame and guilt built up in her chest until they squeezed against her heart. She sucked in a breath to ease the pressure, but it stagnated in her lungs. Her guilt was suffocating her. It was a fitting end, dying here, in the same spot as her husband. She dropped to her knees and wept, pressing her hand to the largest bloodstain on the sidewalk. “Oh, Richard.”
Gentle hands supported her shoulders. “Mrs. Shaw, it’s okay. Take a breath.”
It was Detective Finz. Compassion marked his expression.
If he only knew, she thought. For the first time, she felt like confessing. The consequences no longer mattered.
Tom burst through the doorway. “What’s going on? You okay, Olivia?”
“I’m a cop. It’s okay,” Finz said.
Tom raised his hands and retreated back into the building.
Finz took out a handkerchief and handed it to Olivia. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. When she had control of herself again, he helped her to her feet.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
“I had to see where it happened.”
Finz nodded his understanding. “Are you okay?”
“I think so. Thanks.”
“Got a few minutes to answer some questions?”
“If you can answer some of mine.”
“Sure. Let’s chat in my car.”
“No,” Olivia said. They were standing in the shade of the buildings, and the coolness felt good. “I need the air.”
“Okay,” Finz said, “but let’s put some distance between us and this spot.”
Olivia didn’t object, and she let him guide her to the end of the block. She looked back down the street. The high walls on both sides turned it into an urban canyon. It was faceless and anonymous. Anything could happen here unnoticed, especially at night.
“You said you have questions,” Finz said.
She nodded. “What have you found out?”
“We’re still at the early phase of the investigation.”
Olivia recognized that was code for the cops had no leads.
“I did attend the autopsy this morning, so I have the coroner’s preliminary findings.”
Autopsy. The thought turned her stomach. It wasn’t enough that Richard had been brutalized; he also had to suffer the indignity of being sliced up by the coroner.
“Your husband suffered repeated blows from a blunt instrument.”
“Did he put up a fight?”
“I believe so. There are defensive wounds, so I believe he fought back as best he could. My working theory is that Richard came here to meet his attacker. It was more than likely someone he knew or at least trusted.”
That can’t be right, Olivia thought. Infidelity Limited wouldn’t have sent someone Richard knew. “What makes you say that?”
“This location for a start. Richard had no reason to be here, so this was a planned rendezvous. That means Richard didn’t view his attacker as a threat and let this person get close to him. Also, the struggle was limited to a small area.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll show you.”
Finz walked her back down the street, past the bloodstains.
“Your husband was first struck here.” Finz pointed. “His car was parked there, some two hundred feet away. This was a smart move. It isolated him from his vehicle. There was a struggle here. We found loose change scattered. The subsequent strikes took place over a distance of less than fifty feet. Your husband was trying to make it back to his car. Like I said, it’s a working theory.”
It was better than a working theory. It sounded like Infidelity Limited’s MO. Despite the heat, Olivia’s arms and legs had gone cold, and her fingertips tingled. Finz’s perceptiveness scared her. Roy would have to work hard to stay one step ahead of him. The world caved in on itself, and a whining sound drowned out Finz’s last words. The sunl
ight seemed to intensify, blinding her. She slapped a hand over her mouth as the nausea climbed up her throat.
“Are you okay?” Finz asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve gone pale.”
She touched her face. It was clammy. “I’m sorry. I thought I was ready to hear this.”
“No, I’m sorry. I should have been more discreet. Let’s get you out of the sun.”
Finz guided her over to his car and sat her down in the passenger seat. He climbed into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine. A wave of ice-cool air poured from the vents, pushing her nausea away.
“I have a couple more questions. Are you up for answering them?”
Olivia nodded.
“Are you sure that you don’t know what Richard was doing out here?”
Didn’t he like my first answer? she thought. Guilt had her looking for the damning question because she deserved to be damned for her part in all this. She had to be smart if she wanted to survive this. That meant taking every question at face value and answering it that way. She thought she was doing okay so far. “I don’t have a clue.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of it. Who stands to financially benefit from your husband’s death?”
It was a standard question. She knew better than to be upset by it. “Me, I suppose. There’s a life insurance policy. Richard and I have a family trust. Essentially, we leave everything to each other. Richard did bequeath some things to his parents and his brother’s children. That’s about it.”
“Okay. I had to ask.”
“I understand.”
Finz asked if he could walk Olivia back to her car.
“I have the bank and phone records you asked for.” She pulled them out of her purse and handed them over. “I don’t have Richard’s cell phone records. His firm issued that to him.”
“Not a problem. I met with Richard’s employer this morning. They gave me access to his phone and e-mail. I wonder if I could borrow your home computer? It would only be for a few days.”
“No problem.”
“Good, I’ll have someone drop by to get it. One other question. Do you know Cassie Hill?”
She wondered if that was Richard’s mistress’s name. “No. Why?”
