“As a matter of fact, something my father said got me thinking.
Whatever Ferron is hiding must be really big. You don’t hire a hit man to cover your previous or present indiscretions. Especially when you don’t have a prenuptial agreement. Whether one or more of those victims had information about something he didn’t want known, murder is taking things just a little too far. The man had
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his money and his prestige and it sounds like he didn’t do much to hide those affairs.”
Alex guided the car onto the freeway ramp, accelerating. “Then maybe he’s involved in something illegal and someone, his wife, your aunt, or maybe this law student found out about it. Being an uncaring bastard is one thing, spending time in jail is another.
Couldn’t wear his fancy suits behind bars.”
“His money could buy a hell of a lot of silence. Someone has something on him that would do more than put him in front of a judge. My guess is that something could land him on death row.”
“Conspiracy to commit murder could do that.”
“Bingo.” He glanced at the passing scenery for a moment.
“Whatever it is, it had to start with these first two victims.”
“We’ve got a time frame of two years ago,” she said
thoughtfully. “I guess it’s as good a starting point as we’re going to get. I’ll make some calls to people I know and see what they can come up with regarding what Ferron and his wife were involved in at that point and time.”
Brad pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in
some numbers, glancing at Alex as he waited for an answer.
“Maybe Miguel can give us some insight into this mess.”
Alex listened with interest to the one-sided conversation and it was some fifteen minutes later before Brad disconnected the call.
“Rosa’s fine,” he said, answering the unspoken question in her eyes. “Miguel called her fat and sassy so I’ve got a feeling she wasn’t around. Only about three more weeks to go now.” He
smiled, tucking the phone in his pocket again. “The man is
nervous and he won’t admit it.”
“Your time will come, Norton,” she taunted.
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“Don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.”
“Most men aren’t.”
He captured one of her hands, rubbing his thumb along the
soft skin. “The problem is I’m not sure what kind of father I’d make. Didn’t have much of a role model.”
She snatched her hand away. “Get over it, Brad. That chip on your shoulder is going to cause major back problems if you don’t get rid of it.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Alex,” he said tightly.
“Do you love your uncle?”
He wasn’t expecting the question. “Uncle Frank? Yeah, I
suppose I do.” It took only a moment for him to realize what she was hinting at. “Okay, so I did have a role model of sorts.” He shook his head. “Pretty clever, Alex.”
“No.” She shrugged. “It’s not that I’m playing Freud, Brad.
Doing what I do, I’ve seen the dark side of life. Makes me grateful for what I have and who I love.”
“Speaking of the dark side, Miguel had some interesting things to say.”
“Like what?”
“He thinks Fowler must have been blackmailing Ferron.”
Alex raised a brow and shot him a quick look. “Why?”
“Because, according to Miguel, hired guns usually don’t make a habit of doing multiple jobs for one person. Too risky unless they’ve got a vested interest worth the risk.”
“In other words, hire me or I’ll turn you in?”
“Exactly.”
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She frowned, nudging the car around a slow-moving truck.
“What else did he say?”
“A whole lot about Ferron. He’s been doing his own research. It seems our lawyer friend spent a lot of time in Marietta, Ohio about eight years ago, ostensibly related to research on a case he had taken.”
“Let me guess,” she said dryly. “He managed to have a few
extramarital affairs while he was there?”
“Actually just one. Name of Wendy Rinaldi.”
She glanced at him quickly. “That’s the name of the little boy that was killed.”
He nodded. “His mother.”
“Interesting. Maybe the mother was putting a little pressure of her own on Ferron if he was the father.”
“Could be but then why kill the boy and not his mother?”
“Guess we won’t know that until we do a little more
investigating. Right now we’ve got to link this college student in all of this.”
Brad nodded, relaxing back against the seat. “I might not have your gift of clairvoyance, Alex, but I’ve got a strong hunch we’re getting close. Too close for Ferron apparently.” He caught her gaze.
“He won’t stop, you know. He’s not going to let anyone mess with that perfect life he’s built himself.”
She took the exit ramp with a vengeance. “Then we better
damn well find answers before then, hadn’t we.”
“Then it looks like it’s time to put those powers of yours into overdrive. Because I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need all the extra help we can get.”
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Alex nodded secretly afraid that it might not make a difference.
And that scared her to death.
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“Damn it all to hell!”
Russell Ferron held the day-old newspaper in his clenched fist, fury causing his pulse to skyrocket. Pacing the room, he read the article again.
MAN DIES FROM FALL AT LOCAL HOTEL
A man plunged to his death early this morning at the downtown
Hilton Inn. Just after four a.m. police were called after several
guests heard what sounded like loud gunshots and broken glass.
The victim was pronounced dead at the scene. According to
emergency personnel, it appeared the victim had been shot and
there is suspicion that could have precipitated the fatal fall.
Although the police haven’t officially released any information as of
yet, sources say that several people were questioned. They include a
private investigator by the name of Alex Leahy and a Bradley
Norton, owner of a security company in Charleston, South Carolina.
Earlier yesterday evening, Mr. Norton had been the victim of
what the police had believed, at the time, was a random shooting.
However, there is a definite possibility the two are related. The dead
man was also a guest at the hotel under what, at this point, appears
to be an alias. Although he has been identified, his real name has
not been released to the public pending notification of the family.
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The stupid fool had gotten himself killed. He threw the
newspaper on the desk, incensed. Either Fowler hadn’t been the professional he thought he had been or this Leahy broad was good.
Very good. A tremor of fear trickled down his spine before he shoved it away.
It was time he handled things on a more personal level. He
reached inside the desk and palmed his pistol, lovingly caressing the .357 Magnum. He liked the feel of the cold metal in his hand, the enormous size of it. He spun the chamber expertly and then aimed.
“Bang, bang, pretty lady,” he muttered.
He tucked the gun in his briefcase and locked it. There was a time and place for everything and he had no intention of rushing blindly into the situation. Unlike the mentally slow and deceased Fowler, he knew how to take care of himself. There was no way that bitch would get the better of him and ruin everything he’d worked for, killed for. Pity, really. Nice looking broad. He’d like to have seen her naked before he eliminated her.
He shrugged into his coat and grabbed his briefcase already
anticipating the thrill of doing the job himself. Sometimes, he thought, locking his office door, it was better to rely on no one if you wanted things done right. And he wanted this done right.
Exactly right.
* * *
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The campus was right in the middle of the historic town. Alex was enthralled by the big old houses that lined both sides of the main street.
“You keep swiveling your head like that and you’re going to get dizzy,” Brad teased.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Oh, very professional, detective.”
She ignored him, slowing down to admire a particularly
graceful Georgian style home. “Look at the columns on that porch.
I’d give my right arm to see the inside of that house.”
An impatient horn sounded behind her.
“All right, all right, I’m going,” she muttered. Her cell phone rang just as she swung the car into a vacant parking place in front of the college.
“Hello.”
“For someone who knows how to take care of herself, you’ve
been in a hell of a lot of trouble, young lady.”
She smiled. “But I got out of it, didn’t I?”
Her uncle’s stern voice held a hint of humor. “You’ve always managed to do that. I still don’t like how dangerous this
investigation has become. You watch your back, Alex.”
“I always do, you know that. Anything new on the investigative front?”
“Not much but I do have some information on that ring that
was found on your victim.”
“What kind of information?”
“I was able to get hold of a Sandra Walters at Steadman’s. She was second-in-command and a very close friend of Anna Ferron’s.
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As it happens, she was the one who talked to the man who placed the order for that ring. Even described him in detail.”
“Matt Fowler?”
“You got it. Of course, he gave her one of his aliases. The day Anna Ferron was killed, Mrs. Walter’s left a message notifying him the ring was ready. It’s a pretty good bet that he called Anna personally and arranged for her to meet him, killed her and got himself a fancy ring in the process.”
“She seem reliable?”
“She did. What’s more, she was able to give our artist a fairly accurate description and the picture matches Fowler’s photograph almost to a tee.”
“That’s terrific. It’s at least one piece of this very confusing puzzle.”
“Got something else as well. Mrs. Walters also told me she
overheard a conversation Anna had with her husband about a
week before she was killed. Said they were arguing in hushed tones in one of the back rooms but as the conversation continued they got louder and louder. She heard Anna accuse Ferron of lying to her about wanting a family. She said she had proof and she would tell all of his fancy friends how he had deceived her. She said Ferron was furious when he left and it was obvious her friend had been crying, she said, when she finally emerged.”
“Did Anna say anything to her about the conversation?”
“Not in so many words, although she told me it was obvious
she was really upset. She made several long distance phone calls immediately afterward and left abruptly in the middle of the afternoon which was very unusual.”
“You have those phone records?”
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“Already ahead of you. On the day in question, she made two
twenty minute phone calls to a Wendy Fox in…”
“Marietta, Ohio.”
There was a brief pause. “Are you showing up your old uncle?”
She glanced at Brad. “No way. What I am doing is connecting
the dots and they’re going together very nicely. I’ll bet this woman’s maiden name was Rinaldi. In fact, I’m sure of it. If you discover anything else you think will help, call me on my cell. And thanks.”
“Alex, you’ve got whoever this is running scared,” her uncle said sternly. “Frightened criminals are the most dangerous.
Remember that.”
“I will.”
“Keep safe, love,” he finished gruffly, disconnecting the call.
Alex slowly flipped the phone closed, her eyes misting. She took a deep breath and filled Brad in as they walked toward the college office.
He remained silent until she was finished, frowning. “Question is, what did Anna Ferron find that would convince her that her husband genuinely didn’t want a family?” He stopped suddenly, the frown disappearing. “The bastard had a vasectomy. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Why would he do that? There are other ways to prevent a
pregnancy besides resorting to such drastic measures, especially when your wife wants children and is bound to find out sooner or later.”
“It would explain his refusal to cooperate with the fertility workup his wife wanted.”
Alex shook her head. “Could be, but I keep returning to the fact that there was no prenuptial agreement. Even if Anna found out
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her husband did have a vasectomy and decided to divorce him, he stood to walk away a very rich man. No motive once again.”
“It’s there somewhere. Buried beneath all this other stuff, it’s there.”
Their conversation was interrupted as they walked through the double doors and into the foyer of the main office at the campus. A smiling young receptionist greeted them her gaze moving from Alex to Brad and staying there.
“Hi, I was wondering if you could help us?” he said, flashing a smile. “We’re looking for some information regarding a former student.”
She returned the smile, flushing slightly. “I can help you
depending on how former we’re talking.”
“About two years ago.”
She turned to her computer. “What is the student’s name?”
“Corey Johnson.”
Her hands stilled on the keyboard. “Do you know this student personally?” she asked carefully.
“We know that he was killed, if that’s what you’re asking,” Brad said.
The girl visibly relaxed. “It was awful. We had English and
Statistics together and I even was at a few parties he was at.” She flashed a glance at Alex. “Are you guys the police or something?
Because if you are, I already told them everything I knew back when it happened.”