5 Alive After Friday (20 page)

The thought of a mysterious someone else shadowing
Gail shook her up somewhat. “I feel so helpless just now,” she said. “I did meet
with Gail’s boyfriend. He confirmed they were together on May first, so she
definitely isn’t Jane. He said he might have more information for me if I came
back again tonight when it’s nice and dark.”

“Nice and dark? Did he say nice and dark?”

“No, I just threw that in for dramatic effect.”

“Why didn’t he just tell you what he knew while
you were there?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve sense enough not to go back
there tonight.”

“Yes, that would really be dumb, wouldn’t it? Good
luck tonight, buddy. Keep an eye out for a dark blue Honda SUV and remember that
although Gail isn’t Jane she just might have shot Boyd.”

Sandy sat in her car and gazed out at the traffic
passing on busy US-1 in front of the condominium. Gail was now home and was no
doubt getting all fancied up for Martin at seven. She checked her watch
wondering if Dominic would be in his office for a while. She phoned and Sergeant
Swanson wouldn’t put her through, insisting that she leave a message. He phoned
back immediately; now was a good time, come on over.

It would be good to talk with Dominic and get all
the latest. And then what? Gail would be in Martin’s hands. She couldn’t just
sit around all evening waiting for something to happen. There was nothing else
to do after seeing the detective. Nowhere else to go. Or was there?

She thought about Brad Powell. Perhaps crossing him
off so quickly was a mistake. He was willing to talk about Gail’s money, if
she’d meet him just before the car lot closes, so they wouldn’t be interrupted—that
sounded like a crock. Yet, if he dropped one small piece of information such as
“Gail and this guy had something big going down,” it would be worthwhile. There
was no flirting or teasing with his type, but perhaps she could get him
talking. Maybe he’d surprise her, keep his hands off her, and drop something other
than his fancy shorts. Fat chance that was going to happen. It seemed a waste
of time.

If she called him back, she realized he’d take it
the wrong way. He’d take it as a victory of his irresistible charm over her pretended
morality. Of course, he’s going to try something if she showed up. He had won
her over and she was giving in. She’d just have to be prepared and be careful. She’d
dealt with lechers before. If his employee, Doreen, were there it would be
helpful. And what if he did have some useful information, in that case, having
to fight him off might be worth it.

She phoned him. Tried to sound all business. She’d
be there at eight. He was pleased. They’d talk and then she’d leave. So cool
it, Brad.

A mistake—she knew it before she hung up. She
should have done it some other way. Sure, he’s good looking and is used to having
any woman he wants—he also has
Strictly Forbidden
written all over him. “You
run with Gail...can you keep up with her?” She didn’t know what that meant—and
didn’t want him to show her.

Now that she’d accepted, she could imagine the
thoughts he’d have before eight that night. “I have the feeling you’re nailing
me good right now, aren’t you Brad?”

S
andy
drove straight to the West Palm police station. Detective Dominic was waiting
for her as she left the elevator, and they walked together back over to his
cubicle. They had a coffee together a few weeks back and Eddy Jaworski had
since clued him in on her loss. She needed to reconnect with him and be briefed
on the progress.

He moved a chair for her close up beside his desk.
“Seems like forever since you were last up here, Sandy. You’ve been through
hell since I last saw you.”

“I’m pretty much back to normal now. Thanks for
your kind thoughts.”

He didn’t want to get any more personal than that,
at least for now. “I have some info for you. You know we released Ryan Cramer,
at least he’s out on bail. The ASA still considers him a suspect, but we’ll be
forced to drop the charges. And we’re still hunting for his wife’s murderer.”

“I know who it is,” she said.

“Myra Cramer’s murderer?” At first he raised an
eyebrow then smiled saying, “Oh, you mean Jane.”

“Yes, no question about it now. I don’t know who
she is yet, but the woman who pulled off the kidnapping and extortion with Boyd
up in Park Beach also shot Myra down here. Jane obviously knew Boyd was from
down here. After all, she chose him to help her with the abduction. When he’s
killed for the money, she figures he must have told someone probably his
girlfriend Myra.”

“So, I’m looking for Jane—we’re both looking for
her.” He leaned back with his hands behind his neck. “What’s happening with
Ryan’s sister, Gail? We had her in for interrogation but found no connection
with Myra’s murder. Have anything on her?”

“My theory is she found out about the money-drop
from talkative Myra, followed Boyd up to Park Beach and shot him. But I’ve no hard
evidence that she knew about it or went up there.”

“Why couldn’t Gail be Jane?”

“She has a perfect alibi for the night of the abduction.
Not the night of the money-drop, but the night of the abduction. If she were
Jane, why shoot her partner since he was bringing the money to her anyway?”

He started to reach for his phone. “I want Gail
Holman in here again for questioning. We’ll get this straightened out for both
of us. Give me a list of questions you want answered. I’ll take care of it.”

“Please don’t do that. I need her free to run
around.”

“Why?”

“If I tell you, you’ll try to stop me.”

“Yes, I probably would, so forget about it. There’s
some unexpectedly good news I haven’t had a chance to tell you. You know, I’ve
been working with your buddy Detective Jaworski...I guess you’re pretty close
with him.”

“Not particularly. What’s the news?”

“They determined the gun, which Myra found one
morning in her house and which Ryan had kept in his safe, was the Cal Boyd
murder weapon.”

“You’re joking! The Boyd murder weapon?
Halleluiah.” She beamed. “There we have it. That supports my theory. Gail used
that gun to shoot Boyd.”

“How did the gun get in Myra’s house?”

“Gail must have planted it there. She was in and
out of that house. She was always upset with Myra for treating her brother so
badly. Her plan was to pay back Myra by blaming her for Boyd’s murder, throw
suspicion onto her so it looked like a Myra-Boyd caper. Myra would find the gun
in her house and get her prints all over it. I’ll bet you the murder weapon was
wiped clean and then had nice fresh prints from Myra and then Ryan when he put
it in his safe.”

“You’re exactly right about the prints. So I need
to talk with her. You believe she shot Boyd. With all these suspicions I don’t
want her running around free.”

“Please, Dom, I need her free for another couple
of days. And then all my attention will be focused on Jane.” She stood and
walked behind his desk to check out the awards and commendations embellishing
the wall. “So, you’re a good cop, huh?”

He didn’t care to discuss it. He moved his arm to
cover her business card; the only card under the glass on his desk. She walked
on around his cubicle and sat back down. “Tonya Rhodes is back on my list as a
possible Jane. You remember her?” she asked.

“I’ve been paying attention to her ever since you
gave me her name.” He opened the case file on his desk. “We confiscated the
Glock you told me she had and tested it. It’s not the Myra Cramer murder
weapon. We’ve also determined she has no unusual bank account activity.
Regardless, Tonya remains one of my suspects for killing Myra.”

“I have her twenty-year-old arrest report I’ll
give you. Went to prison for manslaughter, but she was robbing the guy and shot
him.” She moved her chair closer to his desk. “What if Tonya were lying about
being all sappy and lovesick over Boyd as some kind of cover? Maybe that Glock
she placed on that coffee table was the same one held to my head out there in
the Everglades?” Sandy explained she was just tailing Gail an hour ago and
observed the dark blue Honda SUV. “Maybe that was Tonya following Gail. She
wants that money.”

He referred to the file on his desk. “Tonya
doesn’t drive a dark blue Honda—has a brown Chevy.” He leaned back. “Believe me
I want Jane as much as you do. You’ve convinced me that whoever ransacked Myra
house was looking for your extortion money. And when interrupted killed Myra
Cramer. Finding that person will wrap up my case, in addition to wrapping up
yours.”

She nodded. “That person is Jane, and I’ll bet she
was driving the Honda SUV following Gail.”

“You’re probably right. That person is after the
money.”

“That’s why they say follow the money. Get close
to the money and interesting characters start popping up.”

He slowly shook his head. “I’m beginning to
believe you’re the one I should have been tailing from the very start.”

“So I did get through to you with some of the info
I was giving you.”

“Oh, you got through to me.”

She wondered if the detective would truly leave
all this in her hands. “Dom, just trust me for a few more hours. I’ll brief you
again on everything and let you know when you can interrogate Gail.” She didn’t
want his men following Gail and upsetting the plan to find the cash.

“Sandy, I can’t halt my investigation and put
everything on hold for you. I got men out there right now waiting for me to
tell them what to do next. So far you’ve come up with more than any of them,
but I can’t just turn the investigation over to you.”

“Twenty-four hours, Dom. I need twenty-four hours.
Now please don’t roll your eyes.”

“You’re saying by this time tomorrow evening
you’re going to know who Jane is, and I can close my Myra Cramer murder case?” He
studied her face for a minute, “At this point, I’m going to rely on my years of
experience dealing with shady characters and state that I know you are lying to
me. You just want more time and haven’t the slightest idea of whether you can accomplish
anything in the next twenty-four hours or twenty-four days. I’d bet my pension
on it.”

“Come on, you’ve other cases. Do this for me. Sit
on this for a couple of days or so. Say you’re waiting for information from an
informant.”

“Oh, you’re good.” He stared at the case file for
a moment and then pushed it aside. “Oh, hell, maybe I can go to work for you
after they fire me. Get out of here.”

“Thanks for everything, Dom. She gave him a smile
he’d not soon forget. “Before I leave do you have anything on this guy?” She
handed him Brad Powell’s business card.

The detective swiveled to his computer and clicked
a few keys. After two minutes, “Nothing, Brad Powell is clean as far as the law
is concerned.” He gave the card back to her. “Do I dare ask why?”

“He’s an old boyfriend of Gail’s. I doubt if he
conspired with her, but he might have some information. I’m meeting him tonight
at his car lot. “

“So, he might be dangerous.”

“Only to naïve women.”

“Well, that lets you out.”

B
rad’s
Premium Cars
was lit up like a sparkler, with flashing lights and
whirly-propeller things giving a fleeting impression to the public that
something must be going on. Certainly, nothing was happening as Sandy drove up,
not a customer in sight. Brad was expecting her. He saw her drive up and
trotted over. “Park in back, Sandy, behind the office. Old Dixie can get rough
after dark. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas about your flashy car.”

She drove her small convertible around the
building. No cruising punks could see her car back there, but for similar
reasons, no good guys would know she was in the building with him. She was
pleased to note that the rear yard was well lighted with overhead floodlights.
She was surprised to see a flashy Mercedes SLK Roadster there. She parked
beside it. The office manager, Doreen, was supposed to be here. Where was her car,
she wondered? By then he’d walked around the building. “It’ll be safe there.”

She started walking back around the building. He
put his hand on her arm. “No, we’ll go in this way.” He opened the rear door of
the building and they stepped inside.

The evening had turned hot and muggy and it was
blessedly cool inside. “My office,” he announced making a sweeping gesture with
his hand. He motioned her to an older wood armchair. He leaned against the desk
in front of her. “Any trouble finding the place here after dark? Where do you
live anyway?”

“Staying in West Palm just now.”

“I never did ask what you did for a living or any
of that.”

“Is your office manager out front?”

“Oh, I should have told you. After you left this
afternoon, Doreen wasn’t feeling well. I told her to go home.”

“Oh, my. Isn’t that a surprise? I certainly hope
she gets to feeling better.”

“I know what you’re thinking and wouldn’t blame
you, if you wanted to leave right now. In fact, you can leave anytime. But
first, maybe you’ll explain something about me.”

“I don’t want to talk about you. Just tell me
about Gail. You said you might be able to help me with the source of her money.”

“That isn’t exactly what I meant. Sandy, I want
you to know that I was very attracted to you when you showed up earlier today.”

“For chrissake Brad. You can do better than that.”

“I know...just listen. When you first appeared, I
tried to be as pleasant as I could, but you brushed me off immediately.
Frankly, I’ve really been messing up my life the last few years. I want to get
away from these meaningless physical relationships and find someone with brains.
I could have done a lot better than Gail. I get a more sincere feeling about
you.”

“I understand,” she said, “you’re looking for a
meaningful quickie.”

He moved away from his desk and walked out through
the doorway into the showroom part of the building. He glanced back at her “Hold
on just a minute.”

She heard some minor clicking and clanking, then was
startled when all the lights out front and around the car lot went off. Another
click and the showroom also went dark. Only the lights in his office remained
on.

“Just closing time. Don’t be alarmed.” He walked
back over to her.

This was unacceptable. “I’m out of here.”

“Of course, you can leave now. I want you to leave
before you get upset with me.” He stepped over close in front of her. “I’ve failed
miserably. Just tell me how I went so wrong with you,”

“I don’t do therapy.” She started to get up.

Suddenly, the showroom door banged open and a woman
stormed into the office in a blur of coral colored jacket, white tennis skirt
and basket-weave wedges. “I’ve caught you this time, you cheating bastard.”

“Sweetheart! What are you doing here?”

“You had to meet a customer late at the office you
told me. You’re always meeting customers late, but it’s always this same
customer, isn’t it?” She glared at Sandy. “She must buy a lot of cars from you.”

“It’s not what you think,” he protested.

Sandy jumped from the chair and stepped away from
him. “Hey, I’m not part of this, lady, I just walked in here. Just talking to
this guy. I’m from out of town, here investigating a case. Looking for a
suspect. I’m a lawyer.”

“You are? Tell me, do I need a lawyer for the
first time I kill someone? Women like you will hike your skirt for anyone’s
husband and never consider who you’re hurting.”

Sandy watched in horror as the woman reached into her
handbag and drew out a silver revolver.

“Good God, honey, where’d you get that gun?” he
yelled.

In Sandy’s opinion, the woman was one of those
wives whose obvious good looks, slender build and shoulder-length blond hair, not
to mention her marvelous long legs, made you wonder why hubby ever left home. She
tried to speak calmly, “Look, just take it easy. You don’t need that gun, Mrs.
Powell. Now put it away and let’s talk. If you fire that gun you’ll go to jail.”

“If I do, at least I’ll have gotten back at him
for all those years of screwing around. The world will be rid of him and one
less whore.” She seemed about ready to cry and nervously shifted the gun from
hand to hand. “I’ll say I came here to discuss divorce...brought a gun because
he’s so violent. I’ll say I shot while you were clenched together kissing.”

“Now just settle down. You need to think about
what you’re doing,” Sandy said. “You’ll just end up with two dead bodies on the
floor and nothing to prove we even knew each other.”

“What if you’re both undressed? Would that be
proof? What if the two dead bodies on the floor are naked? Would a jury
understand that? Better yet, what if I caught you two actually banging away?
That’s it, I saw you two locked together on the desk going at it like animals.
So engrossed you didn’t hear me come in. That’s when I lost it, a heat of
passion thing, entirely justifiable.”

The situation was escalating. Sandy feared it
could spin out of control at any second. “You have to be kidding. I wouldn’t
buy a used car from this guy, let alone screw him. Nothing like that’s going to
happen here. I’m not here for that and sex with your husband is not going to
happen.” She could feel her heart thumping.

“The woman with the gun makes the rules, you slut.
If I say it’ll happen, then it’ll happen. Yes, that’s what I want. I just
decided. My cheating husband and his long-time lover in the middle of the act
as I walk in.” She gave Brad a crooked smile. “You like screwing little Miss
Tramp here? Show me just how much.”

Sandy’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What! That’s
absurd. I don’t even live down here. I’m not his lover.”

“Well, you were doing a good imitation. As I came
in, he was standing close in front of you, and you were waving your tongue at
him.”

“Not so. Look, this is the first I’ve ever been alone
with him.” She swallowed hard.

Brad pleaded, “We’re telling you the God’s truth, sweetheart.
We don’t even know each other. Anyway, I can’t do anything with you holding a
gun on me.”

“Bullshit, you could do it standing on one leg in a
hammock. Go on now.” She motioned with the gun. “I want you two clamped
together at the moment I pull the trigger. That’s the way the police will find
you.”

Sandy cried out, “Wait, Mrs. Powell, you don’t
have to kill him. Take him to court. Sue him for everything he has. You’ll get
it all and still be free.”

“My wife won’t shoot, Sandy. I know her. She’s
bluffing. She doesn’t have the nerve to pull that trigger.”

“Shut up, you moron! She has a gun in her hand. Both
of you are crazy, but I’m not—no way I’m screwing your husband.” Sandy took a
step toward the back door. “You two settle this. I’m out of here.”

“Stop right there.” The woman raised the gun and aimed
it at her. “I’m through talking. Get started. Off with the clothes and up on
the desk.” She waved the gun at him, “My sweet loving Brad, drop those fancy
shorts right now or I’ll shoot them off you. You, the whore, you get to hike up
your skirt for the last time—get on the desk!”

Sandy head was pounding. She stared in disbelief
and didn’t know how to defuse the situation. The woman must be out of her mind.

Brad had said his wife wouldn’t shoot, yet it
seemed he wasn’t hesitating to cooperate. His shirt was off and he’d unbuckled
and unzipped. His walking shorts were already down at his ankles and he was furiously
trying to get his underwear down. He was having difficulty slipping them off
his hips.

Sandy looked down at him and raised her eyebrows. The
problem with his underwear was all too obvious—there he was, erect and immense.
“Geez Brad, has all the blood left your brain? Will you think about being shot
for just a minute?”

“What’s your problem, sister? He’s ready. Look at
him he’s a bull.” The woman waved the gun up and down at her. “Now, get with
it.”

The woman seemed serious. Sandy moved her hands to
the waistband of her skirt.

Brad was now between her and the woman. He was now
entirely stripped, dancing on one foot trying to get his other leg out. When he
raised his foot to get his underpants off his ankle, Sandy threw her full body
weight into him violently. He stumbled, off balance, into the woman. The gun
went off with an earsplitting bang.

Sandy lunged for the woman. The woman had already
dropped the gun and had sunk to her knees screaming. Brad was on the floor moaning,
holding his chest.

Sandy kicked the gun away, rushed to the desk and called
911.

She looked back at the woman who was now crying
hysterically into her hands. “You idiot,” she screamed at her. “What on earth
were you thinking?”

Sandy knelt beside Brad now lying still on the
floor. With both hands and considerable effort, she rolled his naked body onto
his back. He wasn’t moving. Blood was oozing from the wound on his chest. She grabbed
his walking shorts from the floor and pressed them hard against his chest with
both hands to slow the bleeding. She was afraid to take one hand away to check
for a pulse. “You’re going to be okay, Brad. Stay with me.” She couldn’t tell
if he was breathing and wondered if she should be doing something else, CPR or
something. It seemed that pressing on his chest to slow down the bleeding made
the most sense.

“You’d better hope your husband doesn’t die,” she
yelled.

The woman peeked at the body through her shaking fingers,
“That’s not my husband.”