“Possibly.”
“When my mom gets back, I’ll run this past her. How’s that sound? I don’t want to make such a huge decision for my family without their input.”
“I understand. Maybe we can connect more then?”
“Yes, that sounds good.”
She let out a long breath and stared back at the street where a steady stream of traffic passed. It wasn’t just traffic. It was obnoxious traffic that included loud music, people hollering out windows, and lots of honking horns. Welcome to my neighborhood.
“You know, you’re the first person I’ve met since I’ve been here who seems like a friend. Granted, I’ve only been here for less than a month now, and my core grad classes haven’t started yet. Either way, it’s been a pretty lonely stay here. I’m glad we met because now it seems like coming here may have been a good idea.”
“I’m glad. Slightly overwhelmed, but glad.”
“It’s understandable.” She handed something to me. “Here’s my contact information. I’d love to get to know you better. But I’m going to leave the ball in your court.”
I took the paper where she’d scribbled the information. “I’ll give you my number also. Everyone needs to have someone they can depend on when they move to a new place. If you need anything, I have some pretty fantastic connections.”
She smiled. “I hope we’ll be able to see each other again sometime.”
I nodded. “Me too.”
Chapter Nine
That evening, Jamie came over.
I needed someone to discuss all of this with, and she’d been more than willing to help. It didn’t hurt that I’d made her favorite cookies—gluten free, of course. We sat on my back deck, watching the sunset smear hues of pink behind the city skyline, and listening to the city life around us: distant sirens, traffic, neighbors talking too loudly.
We rehashed what I knew, beginning with the text-based threats, moving to the key I’d found, and ending with my mysterious cousin showing up.
“I know I should stay out of this,” I muttered.
“But you just can’t help yourself, can you?”
She knew me all too well. “What if I only kind of get involved? Not like jumping in with both feet, but maybe I could just poke around a bit?”
“If this guy keeps threatening you, you may not have any choice.”
“So I should be proactive,” I concluded.
“When you put it that way . . .”
“Okay, now that that is decided, this is what I know.” I pulled my legs beneath me as I made myself comfortable on the wicker chair and its cheerful yellow cushion. “Travis Hooker liked to live large, using a different name, a different car, and a made-up career. I highly doubt he could even afford half of the things he talked to me about.”
“That sounds about typical.”
“He probably liked dating sites because they allowed him to be someone he wasn’t,” I continued, pretending like I was much better at this psychological profiling thing than I actually was. “He could impress people, and they were none the wiser about it.”
“Welcome to dating in the twenty-first century.” Jamie popped another cookie into her mouth and narrowed her eyes like she was bitter about having to suffer through modern dating.
“Chase told me Travis might have been poisoned. He also told me they found a puncture mark on Travis, which leads me to believe that he was poisoned through some kind of injection. We have to consider who would have access to that kind of poison.”
“They don’t know what it was yet?”
“If they know, Chase hasn’t told me.”
Jamie wiped the crumbs from her lap. “That makes me think of someone with a medical background.”
“It very well could be, although drug users use syringes, so maybe not.”
“True that.”
“I’ve also gotten those strange texts, texts that make it sound like Travis was going to turn someone in. There’s obviously some kind of information or evidence out there that terrifies someone—terrifies someone enough that they’re willing to kill to keep it quiet.”
“So, it must be something pretty serious.”
“I would think so,” I said. “This isn’t a case of you stole my girlfriend or ruined my car or got the promotion I wanted. There’s more to it.”
“I agree.”
“Then, there’s also the man who ran into me on Saturday. He must have left that key, so he was somehow involved in this whole fiasco. Maybe when he told me to be careful he was talking about this very scenario.”
Jamie pushed the plate of cookies away. Yes, even too much gluten-free food could be bad for you. “Why did he leave the key with you, though?”
I replayed the scene in my head. “I thought I saw a moment of recognition on the man’s face. What if he was friends with Travis? What if he was headed toward Travis with some kind of information, he ran into me, and he recognized me from the dating site? Maybe Travis showed him my picture.”
“That’s plausible.”
“So, this guy left that key with me for some reason. He wanted me to have it, though I can’t imagine why. I have no idea what ended up happening to him. Maybe he disappeared.”
“Could have. Hard to say since we don’t know who he is.”
“I’ve also felt like I’m being watched. Maybe the killer is keeping an eye on me. Maybe he wanted that key, and he snatched my purse, hoping it was inside.”
“He thought Chinstrap Beard guy had given it to you, and you were just trotting around with it in your purse? And how would he know you had it?”
I shrugged. “Beats me. I have no idea. Maybe he tortured Chinstrap Beard guy until he confessed.”
Jamie’s eyebrows shot toward the sky. “This is sounding a lot like a scene from the Bourne trilogy. Go on.”
“I know that Travis had been having problems with his boss, Ronald Dillow, and that people had complained because Travis wasn’t acting in a reassuring manner to the families of the deceased.”
“Maybe something happened to stress him out. Maybe he discovered something his boss was doing and it messed with his head. That could explain his texts. Maybe he collected evidence against the Ronald guy.”
“That could be it. There was one other man mentioned, someone whose wife had died when a drunk driver hit her a few months ago. He had a lot of anger built up toward Travis.”
“Enough anger to kill him?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged.
“Why would this guy be mad at Travis, though?”
“I have no idea.” I grabbed my laptop—I’d brought it out with me, just in case an occasion like this arose—and did a quick search. Ronald Dillow’s picture popped up, and I showed it to Jamie. “He doesn’t look anything like the man who tried to snatch my purse. He’s too heavy and out of shape.”
The man was balding, and everything about him struck me as round—his head, his body, his eyes. But his smile seemed sincere enough.
She tossed her head back and forth in thought. “He could have hired someone.”
“I suppose. But I still have trouble believing it’s him. Chase said he has anger problems. Someone who’s angry doesn’t meticulously plan to poison someone.”
“Good point.”
I tapped something else into the computer, deciding to go in a different direction. “Okay, I just typed ‘Cincinnati,’ ‘woman killed,’ ‘drunk driver,’ and ‘February.’”
“Did anything pop up?” Jamie snatched one more cookie.
I nibbled on my bottom lip. “Only one that fits all that criteria. Dan Gilbert. He’s a doctor.”
I stared at his picture. He appeared, from the photo, to be tall and well built. Could he be the man who’d tried to snatch my purse?
“Does he look familiar?” Jamie asked.
“Without seeing him in real life, it’s hard to know.” As my words hit my ears, an idea formed.
My eyes connected with Jamie’s.
“Are you thinkin
g what I’m thinking?” she asked.
I shrugged, trying to look more casual than I felt. “Maybe we should go check this guy out.”
“Okay, okay” She raised a hand. “That’s my first impulse too, but let’s think this through: what good would it do to track down Dan Gilbert?”
“I want to see his face,” I said. “See if I recognize him or the way he walks.”
“I don’t know about that. Are we just asking for trouble?”
That was a great question. “Not if we’re smart about how we handle this. We keep our distance. We observe. And that’s it. Besides, I just can’t keep sitting here being a victim. I need answers. This guy is threatening to kill me, Jamie. Until I know who he is, I’m powerless to stop him—or to let the police stop him, I should say.”
She stood and saluted. “I can respect that. Let’s go. Because ain’t nobody killing my best friend.”
“This is where he lives?” Jamie peered out the window of my Mustang and munched on another cookie. “He could stay in that house for a week and never need to come out.”
Dr. Dan Gilbert did live in a very large home in a very affluent area of town. His house was three stories and brick. He had a large, manicured lawn, and a gate surrounded the property. Houses just like his—only different—lined the street.
We sat on the dark street, one with nice curvature, no potholes, and smooth sidewalks. In other words, it was nothing like my neighborhood.
We hadn’t parked under a streetlight but a little farther down instead. I made myself comfortable, taking my seat belt off and shifting my legs beneath me.
And, now that I was here, I had no idea why I was here. What did I want to prove by being here? Did I think I’d see Dan Gilbert lurking around with a gun in his hand?
Just then, someone banged on my window.
I nearly jumped out of my skin as I turned toward the sound.
Dan Gilbert stood there with a gun in his hand, leering at me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.
Before I realized what was happening, he jerked the door open and grabbed me by the shirt collar. In a split second, he pulled me from the driver’s seat and threw me against the car.
I didn’t have time to breathe. To scream. To think.
“What are you doing here?” he sneered.
The man was solid. And scary.
He had dark hair that was buzzed nearly to the scalp. A square face. Broad shoulders. A scar at his temple. He was like an angry Rambo doctor man.
Scarier still, the veins at his neck bulged and his eyes were bloodshot.
I tried to suck air into my lungs, but my body felt too jarred. “I’m . . .”
“You’re what?” He rammed me into the car again.
“I’m . . . investigating Travis Hooker.”
He loosened his grip on me but only slightly. “Tell me more before I crush your windpipe.”
This guy sounded serious, and I had no doubt he knew exactly how to squeeze my neck until breathing was a distant memory.
“Ever since he died, someone has been threatening me,” I explained, hoping to get through to him before he killed me. “I’m trying to figure out what kind of trouble Travis got into before he died. Maybe then I can figure out how to get this person off my back.”
His nostrils flared. “You’re his friend?”
“No, I’m not his friend. But someone thinks I am. Or something.” I was making myself sound suspicious. Not good. Not good at all.
“Tell me more,” he growled. “Now.”
“Where’s your bedside manner, Doctor?” Jamie climbed from the car and raised her own gun. “Take your hands off of her.”
Thankfully she had a conceal carry permit, and she wasn’t afraid to use it.
“Put the gun down or I’ll shoot your friend,” Dan barked.
“Then I’ll shoot you,” Jamie said.
“Good. Put me out of my misery. I don’t have any reason to live.”
My heart rammed into my rib cage even harder than before. This man was desperate, with nothing to lose. That was never a good sign.
“I’m sure you have a lot of reasons to live,” I told him softly.
“My wife is dead. I’m in danger of losing my medical license. I’ve got nothing. Nothing!”
“Killing me won’t help,” I said.
“It won’t matter.”
“You can restore what’s been lost. It’s never too late.” I had to somehow get through to him before he did something he’d regret, and before he took away the opportunity for me to regret something I’d done.
“You’re a Pollyanna if I’ve ever heard one.” He scowled again.
“Please, Dr. Gilbert,” I whispered. “I’m not ready to die. Not yet. I’ve got to figure out what Travis Hooker was up to first.”
He stared at me a moment.
I really wished he’d put that gun down. And let me go.
As if he’d heard my prayers, he released me. I scrambled away, desperate to put distance between us. I joined Jamie on the opposite side of the car. I could hardly hear anything over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.
“Travis Hooker ruined my wife!” he barked.
“Was he the one driving the car that hit her?” Jamie asked.
“No.”
“Then how did he ruin her?” I asked, still painfully aware of the gun he held and how precarious this situation was.
“We brought her home after her accident and thought she was going to be okay. It was going to be a long process. A long recovery. But then she had an aneurism.” His facial muscles tightened. “Travis was one of the guys who came to get her body. He asked for privacy while he loaded her on the gurney. But I couldn’t stand being away from her. I opened the door, and I found him going through her lingerie drawer.”
Nausea pooled in my stomach. That was horrible. Disgusting. Distasteful. But was it really a good reason for all this anger?
It didn’t matter. He thought it was a good enough reason, and that was all that mattered right now.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Gilbert. But don’t make more people suffer. Please.” My voice took on a pleading tone.
He showed no response.
“You didn’t kill Travis, did you?” I asked. He was already angry, and I hoped my question didn’t put him over the edge. However, he already seemed like he was way over that edge and freefalling into an abyss of uncontrollable emotions.
“Kill him? No, I wanted to send him to prison so he’d suffer.”
Okay, that was a good start. “Where were you last night?”
“I was at Speedy’s Bar all night. Ask anyone there.”
“You’re not a killer, Dr. Gilbert. You help heal people.” I prayed my words would calm him down and bring him to his senses. “I know you are. I read those articles that quoted people whose lives you saved. Whose lives you changed and impacted for the better. Don’t throw all that away.”
I actually hadn’t read that, but I hoped it was true.
He stared at me a moment—a cold, hard stare. I had no idea what he would do. I feared he’d raise his gun and do something drastic.
Instead, he stepped back.
“Get out of here,” he grumbled. “But if I see you two again, I won’t hesitate to use excessive force next time.”
Chapter Ten
Jamie and I stared at each other once we were far away from Dan Gilbert’s house. I didn’t know about Jamie, but my heart was pounding out of control.
Dan Gilbert had a murderous look in his eyes, and I’d believed every word he’d said.
“He would have access to syringes,” Jamie said once we sat outside my house. “He’s a doctor.”
“That’s true.” I nodded stiffly, still feeling dazed.
“He has anger management problems.”
“Also true,” I said.
“He hated Travis.”
“That he did.” I glanced at Jamie. “Is he our guy? Did he kill Travis and now he w
ants some information that Travis collected on him? Maybe Travis wanted revenge so he somehow got his hands on some less-than-flattering information concerning the doctor. There are all sorts of things Dr. Gilbert could be mixed up in. Illegal prescriptions. Medical malpractice. Sexual harassment in the work place.”
“There’s only one reason why I’d say he wasn’t behind the crime.” Jamie tapped her chin. “He didn’t seem to recognize you.”
I thought about her words. They were true. He didn’t seem to recognize me at all. “If he was the bad guy, he would have known who I was.”
“We could check his alibi, at least.”
“I agree.”
I leaned back in the seat, wondering about the wisdom of remaining in this car after so many things had happened. Wouldn’t the inside of my house be safer?
“So where does this leave us?” I asked.
“Back to square one, I suppose. What about Travis’s boss—that Ronald guy?”
“I can see what I can find out about him. You’re right—he could have hired people to do his dirty work.”
“He’s the only other person I can think of who might have a motive.”
I stared at the dark street in front of me, my hands still trembling from my encounter with Dan the Unhinged. “I just think there’s something bigger going on here, Jamie. I don’t know what. I don’t know how to find out what. I don’t know if I should even attempt to find out what. But something’s not right with this whole scenario. We’ve got to figure out what before someone else dies.”
“There’s only one thing I can think of to do next,” Jamie said.
“What’s that?”
“Go eat Indian food.”
I blinked at her, trying to follow her line of thought. “Why in the world would we do that? Are you having a late-night craving or something?”
“For Indian food? No way. But you said the man who ran into you on Saturday smelled like curry. We have very few leads here. We’ve got to use whatever we’ve got. Maybe someone in the restaurant remembers him and could give us a clue as to who he is.”
My friend was brilliant. I should have thought of this myself—and I should have thought of it earlier. But I hadn’t, so there was no time like the present to find answers.
Random Acts of Fraud (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries Book 5) Page 7
