M.urder R.eady to E.at (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 2)

by Anita Rodgers

  My mind raced. It couldn't be the photos because Daniels had those and Fuller knew that. The Beidemeyer files and Ron's sketch pad were nothing I could imagine him wanting. "I don't know what it is."

  Fuller was a killer and a son-of-a-bitch, but he was also a trained detective. He knew when people were lying to him, and I wasn’t. Confusion clouded his eyes.

  My mental wheels spun, then I spit out my pitch. "Whatever it is, maybe I can help you find it. I'm good at solving puzzles. I find things that people lose everyday. You'd be amazed."

  Fuller was jumpy and off his game. His eyes darted around the room. He was either coming off a high or anxious about the cops looking for him. He knew he didn’t have much time either.

  I bobbed my head to get his attention. "I'm not bullshitting you Fuller. I have a gift. I know how to find things. What are you looking for?"

  Fuller dropped his arm to his side and studied me. Then he grabbed me by the shoulders and hoisted me to my feet. My legs were numb, and I started to go down, but he caught me. "The duct tape is cutting off the circulation in my legs."

  Fuller strained to keep me upright, and the injured leg wasn’t helping his cause. I smirked. "What are you going to do, Fuller? Hold me up all night?" I looked him up and down. "You're a strong buck, but a 110 pounds of dead weight is still a challenge."

  He pulled a knife from his pocket and popped the blade. He pressed the knife to my cheek, then ran it down my face and under my throat. "I don't like smart ass bitches." He pushed me against the wall, held me up with one hand while he cut through the tape binding my legs with the other. Pins and needles stabbed up and down my legs as the blood started to circulate freely again. It burned like hell, but at that moment, it was the best feeling in the world.

  Still holding me against the wall, Fuller straightened. Slowly he took his hand away, and I didn't fall on my ass. My heart sped up as if to cheer the small victory. I kept my eyes on the knife he held at his side. "If you're lying to me, I'll gut you like a deer."

  I let out a breath. "I'm not lying to you. But in the spirit of full disclosure, I should tell you that people know where I am. You might not have much time."

  Fuller scowled, and his gray eyes darkened. He wiped his sweaty face with his shirt sleeve and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. We stared at each other as though waiting for the other to make a move. Fuller was in some sort of brain freeze, but with bound arms and an armed opponent, I couldn’t chance an escape attempt. Unless I wanted another crack on the head.

  "Fuller, you need to focus. What are you looking for?"

  He mumbled, cleared his throat then said, "Video."

  "What video?"

  "The one where I swore I'd kill her husband for her."

  He caught me off guard with that one and I gasped. "You killed Ron?"

  Fuller seemed to come to life again and he snickered. "Piece of cake."

  I shook my head. "No, Beidemeyer killed Ron."

  Fuller scoffed and curled his lip. "That pussy? He couldn't kill himself without fucking it up." He smiled. "And I was happy to oblige him."

  I wanted to know more, but I couldn't let my curiosity get in the way of staying alive. "How do you know the tape isn't with all the other evidence? The cops went over that garage with a vengeance."

  Fuller gave me a funny look. "If they had it, they would've thrown that in my face too." He ran a hand through his buzz-cut. "D.A.'s got something like that, it's over. It's take a deal or blow your brains out."

  So there was a video. A valuable video. If I'd had it, I wouldn't have tucked it under my bed in a shoe box. It'd be in Daniels' chubby hands. Fuller knew that too, on some level. He knew I wasn't an idiot and that I wouldn't keep something like that to myself.

  Fuller sagged against the kitchen counter. His eyelids drooped, and I thought he might nod off. He shook his head like a wet dog, but it didn’t seem to help much.

  I raised my voice to get his attention. "If the cops don't have it, then it must be here." I looked around the room. "Obviously you tore this place apart. A few days ago and then again today? Because the cops didn't do this. Right? And you didn't find it."

  Fuller snarled. "Right, genius. What, you writing a book?” He grabbed me by the hair again and said, “So tell me where to look, or I'll just have to cut my losses and move on."

  I nodded emphatically. "Right. I'm just going to go through a list of possibilities. I know you'll say you've looked there, but bear with me. It’s my process. Okay?

  Fuller shifted his weight and his knife hand twitched. "Okay."

  "You looked in all the cabinets — here and in the garage. You went through all the closets. The furniture on the first check, but everything's gone now, so you came up empty. You check for loose floorboards?"

  He nodded.

  I raised my eyes to the ceiling. "The crawlspace?"

  His hand twitched again and he nodded.

  "Under the house?"

  He grunted and tightened his grasp of my hair. "This is fucking bullshit."

  I talked fast. "Okay, so you've checked every inch of this house. What about the garage? Were you as thorough out there as you were in here?" My eyes darted looking for a clock. Was Ted on his way to my place? Had Daniels picked up his messages? Was Zelda back from the happiest place on Earth? Where the hell were they?

  "I checked the garage," Fuller said. "This is bullshit."

  I nodded. "Right, but you were in a hurry. We found those pictures because you dropped the box when you were leaving. You thought you got everything, but you missed a few." Fuller scowled. "And there was other stuff too. Daniels said so." Fuller’s leg started twitching along with his hand. "I'm just saying that maybe you didn't look as hard as you thought. That you might've missed something."

  Fuller sneered at me, but I could see he was thinking about it. Second guessing himself. He had dropped the photos, and maybe it was enough to create doubt in his mind. "Then why didn't Daniels find it?" He narrowed his eyes at me. "You just said they went through the garage with a vengeance."

  "Maybe he doesn't think like a woman. He doesn't know how women hide things." I was making it up as I went along and nodded my head, hoping Fuller would fall into agreement in his weird and twisted state. "I'm telling you, if it's here, it's in the garage. I'd bet my life on it."

  Fuller came at me, and I shrunk back. He grabbed my arm and shoved me toward the kitchen door. "Let's see if you win that bet."

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Holding me by the hair, Fuller rolled up the garage door and flipped on the lights. The fluorescent bulbs sputtered and flickered as they warmed. He walked me toward the back, shoved me against the dryer then waved the knife at me. "Don't move." He backed up and pulled the door down with a thud. Quickly, he dragged a stool over to the door, stood on it and jammed a screwdriver into the door tracking. There would be no easy escape for me. And if I attempted to un-jam the door, Fuller would have plenty of time to stop me before I succeeded.

  Without moving my head, I scanned the space for another escape route. The door that led to the guest room was just a few feet away. But if it was locked, Fuller would get to me before I even found a tool to break the lock.

  Fuller walked back to me and glared — knife hand still twitching and anxious. "Okay bitch, where is it?"

  My eyes darted around the room and landed on the darkroom door. If there was a video, the darkroom is where she'd hide it. Aside from coming up with limitless methods to snare a man, most women aren't crafty. And when hiding money or valuables, they're typically predictable. A laundry basket, a book, in an envelope taped under a desk drawer, or in a Ziploc bag inside the toilet commode. The usual spots. But Fuller had years on the Force and was well educated in where people hid things — especially evidence. Yet, he'd still come up empty.

  Marika however, was more crafty than the average woman, and she wouldn't have used such obvious hiding places. I was certain that the only place she would've hidden the alleged video
was in her room. Where she felt safe and kept her secrets. "It's in the darkroom. It's the only place that makes sense."

  Fuller looked at me like I was a moron. "Quit fucking with me. A few minutes ago you said the cops took everything."

  I shrugged. "How do I know? Maybe they missed something. Did you check?"

  Through clenched teeth Fuller said, "There's nothing in there."

  Fuller knew about the search and everything they'd found. Certainly Daniels and Davis had taunted him during their interrogation with all of their evidence "Yeah, yeah, I know but did you check? Tonight? Did you open that door and search the room?"

  Fuller frowned, second guessing himself again. "Nah, I got everything in that room."

  "Except the photos you dropped. And Daniels said they found undeveloped film too."

  "This is bullshit."

  "If you missed stuff, then they could too."

  His eyes gave off a weird sparkle. "Look at you, so convinced you're in the loop. Daniels tells you everything huh?" He grunted. "I was in the loop too."

  I nodded, trying to mimic his body language. "Yeah, you were one stealth cowboy for a while there, eh? What'd you do, hack into Daniels phone or his emails? Lift his notepad?"

  Fuller leaned against the workbench and relaxed. He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit up. Then sucked on the thing like it was an oxygen tank. He blew out a cloud of smoke. "Nah, just cloned his phone." He grunted like we were pals talking trash over a couple of beers. "Anything you want to know about anybody is on their damned phone. Right?"

  I raised my eyebrows to show how impressed I was. "Clever." I could play his buddy, if it bought me more time. "I thought that phone cloning was just a bullshit TV thing. It's real, huh? You some kind of techie?"

  He tilted his head back and blew smoke rings. "I've got some skills."

  "How'd you get Ron to swallow all those pills?" I was pushing it, but he was going to kill me anyway. And keeping him talking was the only thing keeping me alive.

  Fuller grinned like a frat boy. "The whack-job loved milkshakes."

  I nodded and mimed his snarky grin. "Smart. Beidemeyer was too chicken to give the guy milkshakes? Pussied out, huh?"

  Fuller laughed. "Right? Big Iraq war vet can't handle a job like that? The guy was a vegetable, how is that harder than putting down some rag head?" He shook his head in disgust. "Carl had no balls. Rode a desk in the DMZ through the whole fucking war." He finished his smoke and crushed it with his booted foot. Then he came to me and grabbed my hair. He forced his mouth against mine and pressed me against the dryer.

  I clenched my teeth, but his bitter sour taste still got in my mouth.. His erection grew as he pressed against me, and I wanted to vomit. Violence turned him on, and I imagined the frenzied sex he and Marika had after they murdered Ron.

  He bit my lip hard, and I whelped. Still grasping my hair and pushing himself against me he said, "I ain't your friend, bitch. And you've got about ninety seconds before things get real ugly for you."

  The combination of Fuller's taste and the coppery taste of blood in my mouth made me wretch. I spat on the floor. "I ain't your friend either, Fuller. Just making conversation." I sucked in my lips to hold back the pain and fear that thrummed inside me. "Are we looking for this video or just talking shit?"

  Fuller laughed. Deep, from his belly. "You're funny. Don't you know you're in trouble here?"

  I smirked. "What I know is that you need that video and to get the hell out of here." I stared into his crazy eyes. "You can feel it can't you? They're looking for you. Daniels is leading the charge too. If you're still listening in on his phone, then you know I called him."

  Fuller faltered. Just a tic of doubt in his eyes told me he'd stopped monitoring Daniels. He got cocky and figured he didn't need to anymore. I snickered. "What’s the matter Fuller, feeling a little out of the loop?"

  He straightened and dragged me by the hair to Marika's darkroom. "Okay bitch!" He opened the door and shoved me inside. "You're so convinced it's in there. Then fucking find it!"

  I shuddered at being forced into the tiny black box. A preview of what my coffin would be like. Ted and his family gathered around. Zelda giving a bad eulogy —alternately screaming obscenities and crying. And where the hell were they? I left plenty of breadcrumbs, yet I was still trapped in a garage with a maniac.

  I smirked at Fuller. "What am I supposed to do, levitate or use my mind to pry boards off the walls? In the pitch black?"

  Fuller grunted, spun me around and wrenched back my arms. The knife blade whispered as it sliced through the tape. Then my arms were free and I rubbed them viciously with my hands. More pins and needles. More burning pain. Now an escape was possible.

  I pulled the cut tape off my wrists and hit the light switch. The cops had taken all the equipment, even the enlarger and the shelves were bare too. All of her cameras, lenses, small tools, and the paper were gone.

  Fuller crowded into the room with me. His eyes flitted around the tiny space. "I don't see shit, do you?"

  I backed up an inch, which was all the room I had and pointed at the ladder shelves. "Must be up there."

  Fuller sneered. "You see something I don't see?"

  I put my foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. "You don't hide things in plain sight do you?" I advanced a couple more rungs, and Fuller didn't stop me so I continued. "That wouldn’t be hiding then, would it?"

  He stood in the doorway watching me. "Make it quick."

  As I went up, I checked for panels along the wall. My gut told me Marika had a secret place. A trick shelf or door — something that you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it. I hoped like hell there really was a video, but Marika could've faked it and convinced Fuller she had something that didn't exist. Sex makes men stupid, and women take full advantage of this fact.

  Fuller yelled from below. "What the fuck are you doing?"

  I looked down. "There are lots of shelves up here to check. Careful, there's a black widow spider coming down fast."

  Fuller jumped back. Even tough guys hate black widows — unless they're named Marika and wearing dirty lingerie. The fake-out gave me a momentary chuckle, but I was coming up empty. If I didn't find something fast, it was over. I was over. I ran my hand along the wall and it caught on something. Just a little bump on the surface. I walked my fingers out along the wall, looking for an edge. I pushed and heard a soft click. A recessed door concealing a cubby popped open.

  I heard Fuller panting and grunting down below — like a pig waited for me, not a human being. I peered down at him, but he was staring straight ahead, not at me. Grabbing an upper rung with one hand I slid my arm to my side, and felt my backside for my phone. Gone. Damn it. I slid my hand to my front pocket, and the lipstick pepper spray was still there. I slipped my fingers into my pocket and pulled it out. If I came up empty, I'd have to hit him in the face with the spray when I got out of the darkroom. It would be better if I could put some distance between us, but I couldn’t count on that.

  "What are you doing up there?" Fuller yelled.

  I jumped and almost dropped the pepper spray. "I think I found something. Hang on a sec." I transferred the pepper spray from my left hand to my right and stuffed it into my bra. I turned back to the cubby in the wall and stuck my hand inside. There was something there, but it wasn't a disc — it was softer, like paper.

  I pulled out a big wad of bills — hundreds, folded over and wrapped with rubber bands. Marika's stash. She had an exit strategy, and I held it in my hand. "Shit."

  I put the wad of bills on a rung at eye level and felt around in the cubby again, but there was no disc or anything else. If there'd ever been a disc, Marika either destroyed it or gave it to somebody. My money was on the fake-out.

  "Hey!" Fuller yelled. "Did you get it? Is it there?"

  His sour stench wafted up and into my nostrils, and I forced down a gag. I descended slowly. "Yeah, I think this is it." I pulled the pepper spray out of my bra
and removed the cap with my thumb, leaving it on a ladder rung as I descended. My heart thunked against my chest, and I slowed down for fear I'd fall off — so anxious was I to spray the entire canister into his disgusting face.

  Fuller stood below me at the bottom of the ladder looking up. "Hurry the fuck up."

  I stopped and looked down at him. "I have to go slow, I already almost fell and broke my neck." I paused and peered down at him. "Unless you want me to land on your head, you need to back out of the room."

  I didn't want to be trapped in the room with him when I reached the bottom. If he moved, at least I'd have a shot of getting out of the room before he grabbed me again. At best, I had one chance to get it right.

  Fuller cursed a blue streak but backed out of the room. "Get your fucking ass down here. Now!"