Murder.com

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  Not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment, he drove down the road a half mile and parked. After getting away from the sickening smell, he took several deep breaths and gathered his composure before making a call to the station. He remained on the line while they ran a check on the license plate.

  “Detective Hoffman, Bud L. Nevers does have a white Porsche registered and the license plate contains those last three numbers. But I'll need the rest of the figures to confirm that it's actually his."

  His worst fears realized, Tom couldn't speak for a moment, then choked out. “That's fine, thank you."

  Fighting the lump in his throat. He stared across the hood of the car where the early morning sun played across the dark blue metal. It all blurred together like an oily puddle of water. How will I tell Angie? He remembered the pain when he learned of Sara's cancer. Even though he'd tried to prepare himself, it wasn't easy to lose the one you love. Sara's slow death still haunted him. His large shoulders shook with deep sobs.

  Several minutes passed before he forced himself to turn the car around and head back to the crash scene. Two officers remained at the site, supervising the tow truck which had the car on its platform.

  He couldn't tear his eyes away from the bouncing pieces of curled metal sitting precariously on the truck bed. His nostrils wouldn't let go of the horrible stench of burning flesh. Even though he knew it would be several days before a positive identification could be made of the body, he needed to tell Angie. He couldn't imagine her hearing it over the news.

  When the truck turned into the station warehouse, Tom witnessed the removal of the wrecked vehicle and its placement inside the station warehouse. He ordered a complete examination of the burned Porsche.

  * * * *

  Angie stared at the ceiling of the dark bedroom. She wondered why she'd even bothered to get ready for bed. No way could she sleep. The painful suspicion that Bud might have left her kept crossing her mind, but she couldn't bring herself to believe it. They'd been so happy together. Tears rolled from the corners of her eyes onto her pillow. “Oh, Bud, where are you?"

  If he didn't show up for work, people would start calling the house. What would she tell them? She didn't know anything. The thought frightened her, making her heart feel heavy.

  She'd talk to Tom first thing in the morning. Even though she knew he couldn't start a search for another couple of days, maybe he'd help her find a private detective. She couldn't stand waiting any longer. This decision had a calming effect and she slipped into a deep sleep.

  At eight o'clock, a soft tap on the bedroom door awakened her. She shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. “Yes?"

  “Mrs. Nevers, are you awake?"

  “Come in."

  Marty partially opened the door and poked her head inside. “Detective Hoffman is here. Says it's important. He looks mighty serious. Is something wrong?"

  Angie jumped out of bed, grabbed her robe and dashed past her startled housekeeper. “Bud's missing!"

  Marty's hands went to her mouth and she followed Angie down the stairs.

  Tom stood in the entry with his back to the stairwell. Angie had just finished tying her robe when he turned to face her. She knew something terrible had happened when she saw his somber eyes and the deep frown-lines etched in his face. Silently, he took her arm, looped it around his and led her into the living room.

  Angie heard his voice, but his words sounded distant and jumbled. When she opened her eyes, they wouldn't focus. Her vision finally cleared and she recognized Tom, with a soft damp cloth in his hand patting her forehead and cheeks. He leaned forward from his seat on the ottoman and spoke softly in her ear. “Marty's called Dr. Parker. He should be here any minute."

  She sat up on the couch and grabbed his arm. “Tell me it's not true!"

  He gently urged her back down to a lying position. “Angie, all we know right now is the car that crashed could be Bud's. It will take several days before a positive identification can be made. We're only assuming it's Bud, because he's missing."

  Her body rocked with sobs. “It must be. He never let anyone else drive that car."

  Tom wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close. “We can still hope."

  At that moment, Marty escorted Dr. Hank Parker into the room. He'd been Angie's personal physician for years. Tom moved back and the doctor sat down next to her. “I just heard the news. How are you doing?"

  Angie shook her head and sobbed.

  After checking her vital signs, he patted her arm. “I can give you a shot to make you rest or if you'd rather, I'll leave some tranquilizers. It will help you get through the rough spots."

  She waved her hand. “No shot. Leave the pills with Marty."

  Marty stood to one side, her hands clasping tightly at her waist. Dr. Parker handed her a couple of packets and a prescription. “Make sure she takes them for a day or two. Call me if you see signs of abnormal depression."

  She nodded.

  * * * *

  After Marty escorted the doctor to the door, she returned to the living room. “Mr. Hoffman, would you help me get Angie up to her bedroom? She should rest now."

  “Of course."

  With Tom on one side and Marty on the other, they walked Angie up the stairs to her room. Then Tom pointed toward the bedside table. “I think you should unplug that phone. She doesn't need to be disturbed right now."

  Marty agreed, knowing people from work would be calling soon enough. She not only unplugged it, but took the phone with her when she left the room. Tom followed her downstairs and into the kitchen. After placing Angie's phone on the counter, she faced Tom. “Can I get you a cup of coffee, Detective Hoffman?"

  “No, thanks, I've got to get to work. But before I leave, I'd like to ask you a question."

  Marty raised a brow. “What about?"

  “Did you see Bud leave Saturday morning for his golf game?"

  She shook her head. “No, I didn't. I always sleep in on Saturday mornings, but later Mrs. Nevers gave me the day off, so I went into town to visit some friends and shop."

  Tom drummed his fingers on the table top in deep thought, then turned to leave. “Thanks, Marty. I'll talk to you later."

  She walked him to the door and watched his car pull away. Back in the kitchen, she glanced at the clock, then reached across the cabinet and took that phone off the hook.

  Knowing Angie would need some nourishment when she woke up, Marty busied herself fixing her favorite biscuits. When she pulled the flour canister toward her, she hesitated for a moment, then reached inside and removed a small bottle. After taking a long drag of the clear liquid, she capped it and put it back inside.

  Her shoulders slumped and tears welled in her eyes as she sprinkled a handful of flour over a sheet of wax paper. “Oh, Angie,” she whispered, and shoved the flour canister back against the wall with a clatter. She patted the dough onto the floured surface and viciously cut into it with a biscuit cutter. “So many lies. So many lies."

  * * * *

  Marty had closed the drapes in the bedroom, so when Angie opened her eyes in the dimly lit room, she felt confused. She hated the drab darkness, but got up too quickly and felt the reeling effects of the tranquilizer, forcing her to fall back on the edge of the bed. She held her head in her hands until the room quit spinning, then she slowly ventured to the window and pulled open the heavy curtains, letting the light flood the room. It must be close to noon, she thought, noticing the sun's position and the short shadows outside.

  When she turned away, her gaze fell on the glittering-gold frame of their wedding picture. A wave of weakness surged through her and a lump formed in her throat. Fighting for self-control, she held onto the bedpost. If she let her emotions take over she might never gain control again. Soon the wretched shaking of her insides subsided. She took a long hot shower, dressed and went downstairs. The smell of baking bread met her nostrils as she entered the kitchen.

  Marty glanced at her wide-eyed an
d hurried to her side. “Mrs. Nevers, are you all right?"

  Angie hugged her. “Not really, but with your help, I'll make it."

  Marty pulled away, her eyes cast downward. “You need to eat to keep up your strength. I'll fix you something."

  Angie only picked at her food, but did get down a couple of her favorite biscuits. She scooted her plate out of the way and glanced at Marty. “Has anyone called?"

  “No, ma'am. I've unplugged all the phones."

  “Well, we have to face this, so you might as well put them all back on. I definitely don't want to miss any calls from Tom Hoffman. There's a possibility that the remains they pulled from that car aren't Bud's."

  Marty shot a look at her, then walked over and put her arm around Angie's shoulders. “Mrs. Nevers, you haven't heard from him in two days. You know he never let anyone drive that car. So, please, don't set your hopes too high. It will do nothing but make you ill."

  Angie reached up and held on to Marty's hand while fighting the welling tears. “I know, but someone might have stolen the Porsche and left him tied up somewhere. There are all sorts of possibilities. Until we know for sure, I won't give up hope that he's still alive."

  Marty dropped her arm from around Angie and went to the sink where she busied herself rinsing dishes.

  Angie crossed the room to the patio door and stared out the wide window. She imagined the blackened Porsche and hugged herself, her throat constricted as she whispered. “Dear God, please, don't let it be Bud."

  * * *

  Chapter Five

  Later that afternoon, the receptionist ushered Tom into Ken Weber's empty office. She left, assuring him that she would locate Mr. Weber immediately. Clasping his hands behind his back, Tom glanced around the office. He didn't feel comfortable in this chrome and glass setting. Sure different from Bud's, which had a rustic oak and leather style that put you at ease the minute you walked in.

  He paced, then stopped in front of the window and stared at the hills in the distance. Turning when Ken walked in with a somber expression, he extended his hand.

  “Hello, Tom. Any news?” Ken motioned toward the chair in front of his desk.

  “No. Too early,” Tom said, taking the seat.

  Ken sat down behind his desk and shook his head. “I still can't believe it. Bud knew those roads like the back of his hand. Why would he speed around that dangerous curve?"

  Tom cleared his throat, shifted his posture and put his arm on the edge of the desk. “Angie tells me there were some problems here at work. Can you enlighten me?"

  Ken shot him a look. “Problems? Did she give you a clue as to what they were about?"

  “No. She didn't know. Told me to talk to you."

  With a thoughtful look, Ken picked up a pencil and rested his elbow on the desk. He didn't speak for a few long moments. “The only thing I can think of is that he might have a problem with a client.” He leaned back in his chair. “And he wouldn't confide in me about something like that unless it affected the business."

  Tom nodded. “Do you know of any personal difficulties he might have been having? Like at home or with his health?"

  Ken raised a brow. “I don't understand these questions. I thought Bud died in the car accident."

  Tom drummed his fingers. “That crash didn't occur until hours after his golf game. He never called Angie to let her know he'd be late. I'm trying to close the gap between the time he left the course until the wreck. She told me you had a short meeting with him after the game. How long did it last? And where did you meet?"

  “We talked at the clubhouse for about thirty minutes."

  “What'd you talk about?"

  “Business."

  “Did Bud say where he'd be going after he left you?"

  Ken shrugged. “No. I just assumed he went home like he usually did. So it surprised me when Angie called the house and asked if we'd seen him."

  “Did that bother you then?"

  “Not at first. But later that night, when Sandy called Angie back and found out he still hadn't shown up, then we began to worry."

  “What did you think might have happened?"

  Ken stared at him for a moment before speaking. “I didn't have the foggiest idea."

  “Did you consider going out and looking for him?"

  “Why? I wouldn't have known where to begin.” Ken frowned. “I don't like the tone of these questions."

  “Sorry, didn't mean to step over my bounds.” Tom stood and extended his hand. “Thanks for your help."

  Ken pushed his chair back and stood. “Wish I could have been more helpful."

  “I may be back after the autopsy.” Tom started to leave, then turned back. “Oh, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep Bud's office locked and not let anyone in there until we know more."

  “Sure, that's no problem."

  Tom left and drove back to the accident site. The first officers on the scene had already verified there were no skid marks. The written report also stated that an anonymous caller had reported hearing an explosion and seeing the glow of what they thought to be a fire in that area.

  He again walked the stretch of road on both sides where the Porsche had gone over the incline and methodically searched the ground where the car had left the road. Then Tom slowly walked down toward the large oak. One would never have guessed a car had gone over the embankment. The only evidence left was scorched grass, roughed-up soil and the blackened side of the tree. Within a few months, nature would heal those scars. While he stood staring at the scene, his cell phone buzzed. He snatched it from his pocket. “Tom Hoffman here."

  “Tom, this is Angie. Sorry to bother you, but we need to talk."

  “I'm in the area. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

  He scurried back up the hill. When he reached the Nevers’ property, the gates were already ajar, so he drove through. He parked in front of the house and hurried up the steps, but before he had a chance to knock, Angie opened the door. She would have looked great in her designer jeans and pale-blue silk shirt, but the dark circles under her eyes marred her soft features. He followed her into the study and before he could take a seat, she jolted him with her next statement.

  “I don't believe Bud was driving the Porsche."

  Tom raised a brow and leaned against the back of a chair, studying her for a moment. She's gone into denial, he thought. “What makes you think that?"

  “Something inside me.” She stopped abruptly and put a fist to her heart. “I can't explain it, but I want to start a search for him. I know legally you can't do it, for what, seventy two hours for a missing person?” She stared at him. “Tom, I can't wait that long. I'm going to hire a private detective. Can you give me the name of a good one?"

  He stepped away from the chair and approached her. “Look, Angie. Why don't you wait until we get a positive identification of the person in the car. There's a possibility we'll know by tomorrow. Don't do anything rash right now. If it isn't Bud, we can start the investigation immediately."

  Tears welled in her eyes. “I can't stand it. The frustration is driving me crazy"

  He took her hand and led her to the couch. “I know it's hard. But I've already been doing a bit of digging."

  She looked at him with wide eyes. “Did you find out anything?"

  “Not yet. But I did talk to Ken Weber today and asked him about the problems at work that you'd mentioned. He said that things were fine and that Bud must have meant some problem with a client."

  Angie furrowed her brow and slowly shook her head. “No, Bud distinctly said there were problems at work. He'd have said client if he'd meant that."

  “Tell me. How well did Ken and Bud get along?"

  Angie waved her hand. “Beautifully. They've been in business all these years without an argument."

  Tom didn't want to upset her, so he decided not to say any more. He'd find the answers he needed from another source. “Promise you'll give me until tomorrow before hiring a P.I."

  She squeez
ed his hand, her chin quivering. “Only if you promise to call me the minute you find out anything. I don't care what time it is."

  “Done. Scout's honor.” He put his fingers to his forehead and smiled. “Now try to get a good night's rest. I know this is a very trying ordeal."

  “Ken and Sandy will be over tonight. I'll talk to him about what Bud said. Maybe he'll be able to enlighten me on what the problem might be."

  “I'll call you tomorrow.” He gave her a hug and left.

  * * * *

  Angie watched Tom's car disappear over the crest. She'd decided not to tell him about Melinda just yet. First, she wanted to see if Ken knew anything about her or had any idea of what she wanted of Bud. She felt that woman might have had something to do with his disappearance.

  Marty scowled at Angie when she came into the kitchen. “Mrs. Nevers, you have no business having company for dinner tonight. You know you're not up to it."

  Angie sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and dropped her head into her hands. “Don't scold me, Marty. It's only Ken and Sally. I need my friends right now."

  Marty stepped over and put a hand on Angie's shoulder. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scold. I'm just worried about you."

  Angie patted her hand. “I know. I'll be all right.” She glanced up at the clock. “It's almost five. They'll be here at six-thirty. I think I'll go upstairs and take a nice long bath before getting dressed."

  “That's a good idea. Now get on with you so I can finish getting dinner ready."

  Ken and Sandy arrived on time and Angie directed them into the study to have a cocktail before dinner. She saw the concern in her friends’ faces and tried to put them at ease. “I'm doing fine and am so glad you're here with me right now."

  Tears welled in Sandy's eyes. “I can't believe what's happened."

  Angie fiddled with the stack of napkins on the bar. “I'm hoping the body in the car proves not to be Bud's."

  Ken shot a look at her as he stood behind the bar mixing the drinks. “What do you mean by that? Have the tests come back?"

  She shook her head. “No. I just feel it."