Deadly Double

by Adrianne Byrd

  “What if she can? We have to have concrete proof, or they’re going to think I’ve just pulled some con job on you. And then you’ll be locked up for kidnapping, and I’ll be headed back to Keystone in a straight jacket. “C’mon, Josie. That’s just crazy talk. We both know who you are.” “Then why weren’t you able to convince that Dr. Bancroft?” William stalled.

  “I’ll tell you why. It’s because you had no proof. And you still don’t.” She drew a deep breath and moved closer to him. “I’m just asking that we wait until we can get hold of my medical records. That’s all.” She held his gaze, while he struggled with his decision. Josie turned to reclaim her coffee but was disturbed by the visible tremor in her hand. “Are you okay?” he asked. She lowered the cup again and flashed him a weak smile. “I’m fine.” William glanced at his watch. “It’s past time for your shot. I should go upstairs and get it.” She cringed at the thought of another injection. “How much longer will I have to take that stuff?”

  While he crossed his arms and thought it over, Josie had no trouble picturing him in a white, doctor’s coat with a stethoscope around his neck.

  “Given the amount of drugs everyone had pumped into your system, I’m guessing anywhere from thirty to sixty days,” he said.

  “That’s a lot of shots.”

  He shrugged. You could try going cold turkey; but I have to warn you, the convulsions, nausea, and migraines are usually severe. What you’ve experienced the last couple of days will seem like a trip to Disneyland compared to going cold turkey.” Josie’s eyes widened. “If you’re going to put it like that, then I’ll take the shots.” “Good. I’ll go upstairs…” “I’ll get it.” Her smile trembled at the corners. “You write down the address for this place so I can call my doctors again.” William nodded. “All right.”

  She flattered him with a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back.” With that, she turned, and strolled out of the kitchen. Once she was out of William’s line of vision, she dropped her calm façade and leaned warily against the staircase’s wooden rail. She had to do something fast. There was no way she was turning herself into the police.

  #

  “I need a forged passport,” Michelle informed her longtime buddy, D’Angelo. She moved farther into the cramped apartment and slid a hand lightly down his corded chest muscles. He chuckled and blew a steady stream of cigar smoke into the air. “Is that all?” “I’ll make it worth your wild.” She pressed a kiss against his dark chocolate skin. “Like old times.” He fixed her with a hard glare. “Sort of how you did for old Danny boy?” Michelle dropped her hand. “Danny was greedy.”

  “Never met a thief that wasn’t.” He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “That includes you, my beautiful pet.”

  Her back grew stiff. “I assure you, I’m no man’s pet.”

  “Is that right?” D’Angelo slid his free hand boldly down her back, cupped her firm butt, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Maybe I can change all of that.” His eyes roamed over her best assets. “What can you offer for this passport?”

  A smile returned to her tight lips. “Whatever you have in mind.”

  D’Angelo returned the cigar to his mouth and pinched one of her breasts through her navy chenille sweater. “You can always take the girl out of the ghetto, but you can’t take the ghetto out the girl, huh?”

  Michelle wrinkled her nose at him but held on to her smile. “Whatever you say, baby.”

  Their eyes locked and performed a seductive dance that blurred the line of who was conning whom.

  Finally, D’Angelo shook his head and gave her a gruff laugh. “I have to be out of my mind to still be screwing around with you. Especially since your last two exes are six-feet under. How about we talk cash?” She relaxed her smile and pried his hand from her butt. “How much?” “Well, you know these things aren’t easy to get.” Annoyed, Michelle brushed off the front of her sweater. “Just throw out a figure.”

  He walked away from her and plopped down on a cheap leather couch. “Let’s go over your tab. I got my boys to help you dump Danny’s body.” “Yeah, God forbid they actually toss him in the woods or something. They planted him in a public park.” “What do you care? We got him out of that pool, didn’t we?” Michelle held her tongue. What was the point in arguing with him? “By the way, how did you get rid of your beloved Dr. Turner? Of course, I never knew what you saw in that white dude, no-how.” Her eyes narrowed as she straightened her shoulders. “I never told you my history with Ambrose.”

  D’Angelo blew her a kiss. “There’s a lot I know about you.” He winked. “And get it out of your head that you can take me out. I’m no punk.”

  Tension replaced the air in the room as Michelle sized up her old friend. In the end, she decided they knew an equal amount of dirt on each other. Plus, she needed him. “How much?” she asked again. “A hundred Gs and a piece of that sweet ass you promised me.” “What?” “I think it’s a bargain.” Given the circumstances, Michelle realized that she didn’t have room or time to negotiate. “How soon can you get the passport?” “After I get a photo maybe I can swing something in, say, forty-eight hours?” She thought about it. “I’ll need it under the name of Josephine Ferrell.” He frowned. “Don’t ask. How much more for a birth certificate?” He corked a brow. “I might need it in the future.”

  When his gaze raked over her attire, Michelle could see his interest flare up again. “How about you give me a little sample now and I’ll just throw in the birth certificate,” he said, rubbing his hand down the front of his crotch.

  Michelle smirked and settled her hands on her curvaceous hips. “Like what you see?”

  “What can I say? Money looks good on you.”

  “Yeah.” Slowly, she unbuttoned the front of her sweater and watched his eyes widened at the sight of her full, caramel covered breasts. “And I’m going to make sure I’ll always have it.”

  #

  William wondered what was taking Josie so long. He glanced at his watch. He would have to leave in the next two hours if he was going to make it to Keystone by noon. Never a man to stand still, he decided to go out and brag a few more logs of firewood. As he waltzed out of the back door and onto the wooden deck, his mind tangled with what he was going to tell the police. He wasn’t worried about a kidnapping charge so much as a murder charge.

  It wasn’t going to look good that he waited so long to come forward, he reasoned, lifting the ax from the tree stump. Regardless, he would undoubtedly lose his job.

  What was that?

  His ears perked at a rumbling sound.

  A few squirrels scattered about as if they were frightened. Was someone there?

  William strained his ears again and swore he heard the crunch of gravel. A car?

  With the ax his hand, he rushed back to the house. Surely, Larry and Sheila aren’t returning early, he thought. They aren’t due back until December.

  William bolted through the back door and scrambled to the kitchen. Josie still hadn’t come down. He hurried to the front door and glanced out of the peephole, but his heart dropped at the sight of the two menacing goons on the other side of the door.

  Chapter 27

  Ming and her team of police officers were welcomed to the Turner residence by the red-eyed widow. It was near noon, but Trisha answered the door wrapped in a pink robe and a pair of matching fuzzy house shoes. Despite the woman’s swollen eyes and glowing nose, Ming thought the forty-something socialite was still a striking woman.

  “Morning, Mrs. Turner.” Ming went through the formality of flashing her identification, but Trisha hardly spared it a glance.

  “Come on in.” Trisha stepped back and allowed Ming and her four companions entry. “Please excuse the mess, but I haven’t had time to straighten up.”

  Ming moved into the foyer and glanced around. What was the woman talking about? The place was immaculate. “I know this is a hard time for you. We appreciate your help in this case.”

  Trisha shrug
ged, seemingly unaffected by the mini-speech, and then lead the way to a handsome office. Three of the four lengthy walls were decked floor-to-ceiling with cherry-wood bookcases. The shelves were packed tight with books bounded in expensive leather, and the polished floor showcased the most beautiful Oriental rug Ming had every seen.

  “This is nice,” Ming said, easing into the room. “This is where your husband worked?”

  Again, Trisha shrugged. “He always said that he worked better in here than he did at Keystone,” she said. “Fewer interruptions.”

  Ming noted that the widow’s tag dripped with sarcasm. Moments like these were always difficult.

  Ming’s small entourage slid on latex gloves and promptly dispersed throughout the room.

  Apparently, the sight of the officers dismantling her husband’s office proved too much for Trisha, as she turned and walked away.

  Hesitant, Ming drew a deep breath and followed her. “Are you all right, Mrs. Turner?”

  “Trisha. Please call me Trisha or by my maiden name Strauss.”

  The correction told Ming a great deal about the widow’s state of mind. It also warned her to proceed with caution. “I hate to have to ask you…”

  “You want the file.” Trisha made a beeline to a bar in another spacious room decorated completely in white.

  “Yes, ma’am. If it’s not too much trouble.” Rich people lived on a whole other level, Ming thought as she absorbed her surroundings.

  “No trouble at all.” Trisha slapped a thick manila folder onto the bar’s counter, and then promptly mixed herself a drink. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Sorry. I’m on duty.” Ming joined her at the counter and then slid onto a wrought-iron barstool.

  “Well, I need this.” Trisha saluted her.

  Ming nodded and opened the folder. The first thing to greet her were bold black-and-white photos of Andrews straddling Dr. Turner in the driver’s seat of a shiny, silver Mercedes.

  “I’m assuming they were parked,” Trisha said, with a deep measure of disgust.

  There were several more shots of the uninhibited lovers in the car, but those were soon replaced with ones of them making out by a pool. “If you’re wondering, that’s our pool.” “He brought her here?” Ming asked before she could stop herself. “A bold bastard, wasn’t he?” Trisha took another sip of her drink. “And I stayed with him. How pathetic is that?”

  Ming reached across the bar and gave the distraught woman’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “Life isn’t over. You’ll get through this.”

  Trisha met Ming’s stare as a new wave of tears brimmed her eyes. “Are you married, Detective Delaney?”

  Lifting her hand, Ming flashed her modest wedding ring. “Three years this December.”

  “Hell, you’re still newlyweds.” A sardonic smile hugged Trisha’s lips. “You’re probably still having sex in every room of the house.”

  Ming nearly choked on her laughter. “I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”

  One of Trisha’s neatly manicured eyebrows rose. “Well, let me impart one thing I’ve learned in my disastrous marriage. Men are like houseplants.”

  Caught off guard, Ming’s expression of interest collapsed into a frown. “A houseplant?”

  Trisha allowed herself another smile. “They need constant attention, sunshine, water, and nurturing. You neglect any of those things, and they’ll plant themselves in someone else’s pot, if you know what I mean.”

  Ming’s thoughts instantly flew to her often-busy schedule and her dwindling sex drive. Hadn’t she just fallen asleep on Conan the other night? “I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Their conversation ended at the sound of approaching footsteps. Det. Jorge Hernandez filled the room’s entryway. “Det. Delaney, may I speak with you for a minute?” “Certainly.” Ming hopped off the barstool and gathered everything back into the folder. “Take it. I don’t want it anymore,” Trisha said, and continued to nurse her drink. “Thanks.” Ming left the bar and walked across a white plush carpet to join her colleague at the door. “Do we have something?” Hernandez escorted her away from the door. “We found a .45 Para CCW hidden in a hollowed-out book.” “Bancroft was shot with the same type of weapon.” Hernandez nodded. “Figured you might want to take a look at it.” Ming dug her cell out of her pants pocket. “I better get the crime lab up here. We may have just found our murderer.”

  #

  Michelle left D’Angelo more than satisfied; and by the time it was all said and done, she’d also bargained to have a few of his men for security. Two large, black males trailed behind her. Their presence elevated her confidence; not that it needed it, but she felt that she was back on track.

  In retrospect, she should’ve contacted D’Angelo.

  Who knows? Maybe you could think of a way to get rid of him before you leave town.

  Michelle smiled at the thought as she glided out of the back office and maneuvered through a busy boutique at Underground Atlanta. Minutes later, she slid behind the wheel of a red Jaguar and waited for her new security to show up before she pulled out. From across the parkway, Det. Simmons returned to his own car and watched everything with keen interest. “What are you up to, Andrews?” He grabbed his cell phone and quickly punched in Ming’s number as he started up his car. “You were my next call,” Ming said, before Tyrese had the chance to speak. “Well, you’re always on my mind, too.” Tyrese chuckled, but quickly grew serious again. “I think I have something.” “Same here. You first.” “Castellan’s.” “What, the boutique store?” “Yeah. You know who runs it, don’t you?” “A pain in the neck, D’Angelo.” “Bingo. Andrews just left his place and came out with a matching pair of goons.” Ming sighed. “We already interviewed him about the Thornton case. Him being Daniel’s friend and all.” “Maybe we didn’t ask the right questions.” “I’ll get him back in for more questioning. Are you still following Andrews?” “I’m on her like white on rice.” “Good. Now, it’s my turn to tell you what I’ve found.”

  #

  William only had a few seconds to make a decision. With wood burning in the fireplace and the Lincoln Navigator parked in the cul-de-sac, there was no point in pretending that no one was home.

  One of the men pounded on the door and rang the bell simultaneously. From behind him, William heard footsteps on the stairs. He turned and met Josie’s scared stare. “It’s okay,” he mouthed quietly, and then directed her to get out of sight with a curt nod. She hesitated, and then quickly rushed back up the stairs. Another loud knock rattle the door and William, angrily, jerked the door open. “Yes, can I help you?” he barked at the two men. The men stepped back as their gazes lowered to the ax clutched in Williams’s hand. William’s brow rose higher when neither man spoke. “Yes?” he asked again. At last, one of the men stuttered out an explanation. “We’re, uh, out looking for a friend of ours.”

  The other goon, who was by then well past being afraid of the ax-wielding William, looked as though he was considering a quick quarrel to prove who was the better man. William’s gaze focused on the large patch against the side of the man’s face. He hadn’t killed him after all. “Chuck,” goon number one, elbowed his glaring partner. Finally, Chuck held out a photograph. “We’re looking for this woman. Have you seen her?”

  William kept his face light, his grip on the ax’s handle firm, while he allowed his gaze to fall to Josephine’s smiling image. He frowned and hoped that he wasn’t overplaying his part. “Never seen her before,” he said, glancing back at the two men. Chuck’s gaze narrowed. “Are you sure?” Despite his heart hammering in his chest, William cocked his head, and refused to be intimidated. “I’m positive.” After a few more seconds of warring glares, the unwanted visitors finally thanked him for his time and ambled off his porch.

  However, William waited until the strangers climbed into their black Escalade and drove off before he closed the door. His entire body slumped in relief as he rested his head against the door; but, once again, his attention was drawn to
the footsteps on the stairs.

  “Pack your things,” William instructed curtly. “We’re getting the hell out of here.”

  Chapter 28

  “False alarm,” Detective Hernandez said, entering Ming’s office.

  “Honey, let me call you back,” Ming told Conan over the phone. “Uh, huh. I love you, too. All right. Bye.” Once she disconnected the call, she gave Jorge her full attention. “Now run that by me again.” He handed her a report. “We just received the ballistics back on the Para CCW we confiscated from the Turner residence.” “That was fast.” She flipped open the report. Jorge straightened his tie. “Let’s just say that I have connections down at the lab.” “A girlfriend?” “Something like that.” He flashed her a brief smile.

  Ming’s gaze lowered back to the ballistics report. Her temples pulse with disappointment. The lab had run a test with bullet recovered from Bancroft’s body. The markings on the spent bullet versus the ones fired in the lab are different.

  “Okay. That was a waste of time.” She tossed the report onto the desk.

  “Not really. Usually these setbacks can contribute to the process of elimination. If you look at the back, there’s another report.”

  Ming picked it up again.

  “Bullets from Bancroft, Turner, and Thornton are a match. Of course, I don’t know why someone would shoot Thornton after he was already dead.”

  “So we’re looking for one killer.” Ming rolled her eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I have a problem with being wrong.” “Yeah. Simmons may have mentioned that to me once or twice.” “Has he now? Did he also mention that it rarely happens?” “He said you would say that, yes.”