A Killer Necklace

by Melodie Campbell

  When she looked up, Garry was smiling at her.

  “Good thinking, sweetheart.”

  It would be a lot more than two hours before someone came to clean out that room.

  The first thing Gina felt was relief.

  She was alone. No one could hurt her if she was alone.

  The chamber maid would come. Cathy had said so. And Gina knew all about hotels. This was a motel, but surely they operated in a similar way. Now, she just had to wait patiently. Wait for the sound of the door opening.

  The scarf in her mouth was soaked now. It tasted awful. But at least she could squish it forward to the front of her mouth, where it wasn’t so choking. Thank goodness her nose wasn’t plugged.

  When her eyes adjusted to the dark, she tried to look around the room. Might be important to remember details of what the room was like, in case she was later questioned by the police.

  It was a standard room with one king size bed. Colour scheme was sage green and burgundy…or maybe maroon. It was hard to tell in the dark. These colours were dominant in the dense, light-reducing draperies and the plush bedspread. The furniture was dark walnut in colour, and appeared fairly new. The television was wall mounted, maybe 32 inches. She couldn’t see the rug. Not a particularly classy place, but it seemed clean.

  A plastic clock-radio faced forward on the end table. She couldn’t read the numbers because her head was drawn up too close to the headboard.

  Now there was nothing to do but think.

  She’d been avoiding that, because haunting her mind was something Cathy had said. “If you really love Tony, you’ll understand why I’m doing this.”

  Did she really love Tony? If that was love, did she really love him? Would she have kidnapped someone to protect Tony, if that’s what it required?

  Now her thoughts were whirling.

  Oh my God, Tony! Gina stiffened. He would be having a fit. Or wait—would he even know she was missing?

  Becki. Becki would know. They were supposed to meet at her mom’s at 7:30. Becki would sound the alarm when she didn’t show up.

  She was getting married tomorrow! Everyone would be at the church. She had to get out of here. There was so much left to do!

  But most important, she wished to hell she had gone to the bathroom at Bella Sposa.

  Minutes passed. Then hours. How many hours since she had been left here? And still no chamber maid. Still no sound of motel clients on either side of the room.

  Occasionally, a car would drive by. Gina couldn’t see it because, of course, Cathy had closed the drapes before leaving the room.

  She felt weary and defeated. Stupid, stupid, stupid, for blurting out something so dangerous in the parking lot. Why hadn’t she just noted the missing hubcap, smiled at the introduction, and hurried home to tell Becki and Karl? No question, she had a lot to learn about investigating people. Tony would laugh when he found out how incompetent she had been.

  She was too keyed up and uncomfortable to sleep. Someone would come eventually. Might as well use the time she had usefully. Think, Gina! Think back to the murder of Louisa Davidson.

  Garry must have done it. He must have found out where his ex-wife lived and driven up to Black Currant.

  But wait. She wasn’t his ex-wife! Gina kept forgetting that. They had never actually divorced.

  So Garry had killed his wife. But why? Louisa was in hiding, so it wasn’t as if she was expecting anything from him.

  He’d already done his time. So it couldn’t be a matter of suppressing evidence that would convict him.

  Why would he kill her? Yes, she had the necklace and maybe more jewelry. But why would Garry kill her before she handed it over? Wouldn’t he wait until after? And then, why bother at all?

  But it had to be. For why else would Gina be lying here right now, after having recognized the car? Obviously, someone had tried to run down Sylvia because she saw something or knew something about Louisa’s death. And that someone was also preventing Gina from going to the police right now.

  It had to be Garry. It was Garry’s car. But no matter what Gina came up with, she couldn’t see a clear motive for Garry to kill his wife.

  So, who? Who would have a motive?

  And then she had it.

  Chapter 38

  They weren’t going to Rome.

  Cathy had figured that out when the car turned west on the QEW, instead of east. They weren’t driving to Toronto International Airport.

  “Where are we going?” she asked Garry.

  A crooked smile crossed his face.

  “Don’t worry. I have friends you can’t imagine,” he said.

  But worry she did. Gina would be free before long. The Do Not Disturb card in the lock would only keep the maid from cleaning the room. It wouldn’t keep the room from being reassigned to a new arrival.

  “Garry, we’ve got to get out of the country. Fast.” Surely he understood that?

  He just nodded. It seemed an under-reaction. But then, Garry didn’t know the whole story. He didn’t know about Louisa.

  She hadn’t told him everything. Even now she hesitated, not knowing how he would react.

  Casting her mind back to that fateful day, she reminded herself that nothing ever goes as planned.

  A week before Garry had been due to be released from prison, Cathy came alive. She was determined not to lose him again—not to jail, not to anyone.

  So she set about to find out where his wife Linda had disappeared to.

  It wasn’t an easy task. But Cathy had the means to hire expert investigators, people who were professional skip-tracers.

  They found her within days. And so Cathy drove to Black Currant Bay, to meet her rival in person.

  Even now, she couldn’t be entirely sure what she had hoped to accomplish by doing that. Maybe a simple reassurance that Linda would stand aside, and let her husband go free? Grant a divorce?

  Nevertheless, Cathy was driven to face Linda and battle it out. She and Garry needed to be together—that’s all that was important.

  The confrontation in the Victorian kitchen had been brutal. Linda hadn’t known about the affair. She had yelled and screamed at Cathy, called her awful names, horrible names, until Cathy couldn’t stand it anymore.

  She had tried to block out the hurtful words, especially the surprising information that Garry had sought out and spoken to his wife right there in that house before ringing her own bell.

  Linda had even claimed, “Garry wanted us to try and work things out.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Cathy replied.

  Linda rallied. “What? You think he really loves you, Cathy? Garry Davenport doesn’t know the meaning of love. All he wants is money and power and—well—another word that starts with ‘p’. An ugly, demeaning word I won’t say out loud. But it’s a word that suits you perfectly, my dear.”

  Was it unconsciously? Cathy wrapped the knuckles of her left hand around the top rung of the back of the kitchen chair next to her.

  “Get out of my house!” Linda finally ordered. “Out with the trash! And tell your boyfriend not to come here again either or I’ll disclose everything I have on him. Believe me, he doesn’t want any more trouble to come his way.”

  Rage made Cathy invincible. Her right hand joined her left and she hefted the chair in the air.

  A weak inner voice tried to stop her from proceeding any further but it could not compete with her fury.

  Linda’s fearful, pleading eyes were no contest either.

  She bashed Linda over and over again as her rival cowered and backed away from her.

  Eventually she had Linda cornered at the top of the cellar stairs.

  One last thrust, one last ram, and she sent her toppling.

  She hurled the chair after her for good measure.

  A few moments later, with cold calm restored, she hugged the very edge of the staircase going down, hoping not to step in any blood if there was any. She checked to make sure Linda was gone for good. Then
she grabbed up a few pieces of the broken chair, the parts that might have her prints on them, and she smuggled them away to be tossed at leisure.

  Cathy hadn’t told Garry about that. She wasn’t sure she ever would.

  But to be honest, he hadn’t told her everything, either. What was all this about the car being in a hit and run accident? Who had been hit?

  And why had Garry been so anxious to go to Gina’s wedding? It was right out of character. What did he intend to pick up there?

  Her mind continued to work over scenarios until Garry pulled off the highway. Before long they were traveling down country roads.

  “Where are we going?” she asked Garry again.

  “How do you feel about South America?”

  Wow! That sounds exciting.

  “I phoned ahead to arrange this flight and other connections. We don’t go through normal customs this way,” he said. “As I said, I have a lot of friends.”

  Friends in high places, she thought, as the car continued along unfamiliar rural roads.

  “Don’t worry too much about money, sweetheart. I’ve got enough to live where it’s cheap, stashed away out of the country. Enough for us to live on for many years.”

  Cathy felt a jolt. She wouldn’t be able to touch her own money, of course. They wouldn’t want any traces left at this point. Such a shame.

  But maybe later. Garry knew a lot of people. He could probably figure out a way to get at it.

  “I’m just so damned sorry about the necklace, not to mention the other jewels,” he muttered. “We should have the necklace. An extra four hundred thousand would make things easier.”

  “What necklace?” Cathy said.

  Garry didn’t answer. He turned the car down a laneway to a private airfield. Then he pulled up behind a small clapboard building that served as an office.

  The next several minutes went by in a haze of activity. A young good-looking pilot was introduced. Money changed hands. Bags were swung from the car to a prop airplane close by. The pilot climbed on board to make preparations.

  “It won’t be long now, sweetheart.” Garry put his arm around her waist.

  “Going somewhere?” said a gravelly voice behind them.

  She felt Garry stiffen. His arm left her as he whirled around.

  “Johnny.” His voice was a harsh whisper.

  Cathy turned. The man who faced Garry was short, and heavy-set. His slick dark hair was a match for the expertly cut charcoal suit. Beside him stood a younger man, taller and definitely not as well dressed.

  Beyond them, she could see a big black Mercedes, with the front and passenger doors still open.

  The man called Johnny smiled with a lot of small white teeth. “Don’t be so in a hurry. It’s not healthy.”

  The air surrounding all of them had abruptly turned electric.

  “You missed an important meeting,” he continued. “My boss wants to talk to you. I got orders to make sure that happens.” He patted the right hand pocket of his suit jacket.

  Garry seemed to fold right before her. She watched in horror as his face crumbled into despair.

  “How did you find me?” Garry asked finally.

  The beefy guy shrugged and gestured to the air park office. “You’re not the only one with friends.”

  Twenty-four hours was the time that police usually waited before acting on a missing person report. Tony knew this already. He didn’t need Karl to tell him.

  “That’s ludicrous,” said Becki. “We know she’s missing now!”

  Tony wasn’t going to wait that long. All his training told him to move now. Get his contacts on it. Pull in every favour.

  Fact. Gina was missing from her own wedding rehearsal.

  Fact. Her purse and dress had been found on the parking of the bridal store, not far from her own car.

  This wasn’t a case of the bride getting the jitters and skipping town. You didn’t leave your purse behind when you skipped town.

  Gina wouldn’t do that, anyway. Not his Gina.

  Becki was staring at him strangely.

  “Do you think there’s any chance…” he started to ask her.

  “No. Something has happened. Gina wouldn’t leave without a word. For goodness sake, Tony, you know Gina.”

  Still, the doubts were there, tearing away at his already distraught mind. Yet, the alternative was worse. Gina getting cold feet was something he could handle. Gina, a cold body…

  Action was the only way to keep the impending horror at bay. Luckily, Tony was a man of action.

  He reached for his cellphone to get the ball rolling.

  Chapter 39

  It was probably not a civilized time of morning, but daybreak nonetheless. The blackout curtains couldn’t completely hide the glow that was dawn. It seeped in around the edges and filled Gina with renewed hope and energy.

  And urgency.

  Oh yes, she was more desperate than ever to escape because this was the morning of her wedding, and also, to put it politely, she seriously had to relieve herself. Seriously.

  She didn’t know exactly how long she had gone without urinating. But it must be going on three decades!

  Thank God she had not added to the nearly overflowing reservoir of her bladder since she left home last night.

  One thing she knew for sure was that she’d better stop thinking about peeing.

  Further subjects that are off limits—lakes, waterfalls, and…No crying either, Gina!

  Suck. It. Up.

  Had she tried everything that she possibly could to save herself last night after she finally realized it might take forever for the maid or anyone else to find her here? Damn it, yes! She would happily have gnawed through the tape with her teeth if she wasn’t gagged!

  There must be a way. There has to be a way.

  Take for instance her fictional hero Jack Reacher—whose wandering habits and clandestine activities brought to mind the life she pictured Tony led when he ‘previously’ was working for Canada’s federal agency—who always found a way. What would Reacher do? What would Tony do?

  It only made sense that if, as it appeared, she’d used up her own bag of tricks, it was time to borrow someone else’s.

  Think like Reacher!

  Wasn’t he always lecturing about force in terms of mass and velocity or some such thing? Before launching into a dead run and using his six-foot-plus frame and his two-hundred-and-fifty-something bulk to kick through a door.

  Didn’t he also champion leverage in tricky situations?

  Taking inventory, she realized she didn’t have the advantage of much personal mass, and in her state, how could she achieve any significant velocity? But the more she thought about it, the more she thought she might be able to create leverage.

  She didn’t have a lot of leeway because the rope that secured her to the bed was only a foot long.

  First she wriggled onto her right side. Now she had to bend in half. Bring her legs up so they’d be pushing against the bedpost while her arms pulled in the opposite direction.

  Easier said than done.

  When you’re lying all trussed up, she discovered, moving your legs takes a whole lot of ab strength. More than she felt she could muster. On top of that, she literally didn’t have all day to strain.

  So she cheated.

  She swung her bound legs like a canon across the night table, a movement that swept the cheap plastic clock-radio right off the smooth surface. It ended up stuck between the edge of the nightstand and the wall. What good is a digital clock-radio that you can’t read or listen to anyway?

  Still her feet—she’d long since lost her shoes in her struggles—were to the left of where they needed to be.

  So she repeatedly and patiently flexed her abs and wriggled her body, moving closer to the position she desired.

  She resisted the urge to kick indiscriminately.

  Do not waste kinetic energy until you are properly set up, she told herself.

  Finally, with knees bent
and heels poised in front of the thicker upper length of the turned bed post, directly above where the rope was tied around a narrower groove in the column, she kicked with all her might at the same time as she yanked back with her arms, full weight behind the movement. Over and over in a synchronized fashion. She figured that eventually either the tape or—the furniture here couldn’t be all that solid—the bed post would have to—

  Crack!

  The wood splintered and jagged shards shot out.

  With continued pressure the post gave way completely, sending the upper part of her body flying back onto the cushion of the bed.

  Yes!

  But she still wasn’t free.

  Not free enough to leave the motel room and get to her wedding.

  Not even free enough to use the toilet.

  What next? Do I work on the duct tape myself or do I attract outside attention? Which is faster?

  Last night, as much as she’d hammered on the wall behind her, no one had come to her rescue and it was obvious why. The bed was against the exterior wall facing the highway. No one there. But there were rooms on both sides of hers, and maybe some people in the hall.

  Gina slithered off the edge of the bed until her feet touched the ground. She began to hop to the closest side wall but each bounce and landing cost her.

  As she approached she also had to tell herself not to rush so she wouldn’t lose her balance and fall on the ground. Who knew how long it might take to get up?

  Once she faced her target, she thoroughly banged and thumped it.

  Then she hopped to the door to the hall and did the same thing there.

  Then she hopped through the bathroom on the other side of the room and continued banging. She would not give up until someone came to the door.

  She still was thumping on the hall door when she heard voices directly outside. Immediately she took a hop back so as not to be knocked over when the door swung open.

  But it didn’t move.

  “What’s going on in there?” a man’s voice shouted from the other side.

  She couldn’t answer.