Lethal Affair (27 page)

First one there, he let himself in
through the front, then locked the door and went to the back room
to don his sous chef outfit.

He heard scratching and whimpering
coming from the back door that faced the alley.

Quickly he opened the heavy-duty
burglar bar and swung the door open. Dino lay on his side panting,
his bandaged paw soaked with blood.

“
What the hell?” Kim reached
down, bundled the little guy into his arms and took him inside. All
four of Dino's paws were coated with blood. Fear sliced through him
as he searched for wounds and then eased off when he found
none.

Weird.

Kim heard Lyle and Jolene come in.
“Hey Kim, how's it hanging?” said Lyle. “Your braid, that is.” He
snickered at his own little joke, then spotted Dino and rushed
over.

“
He was out back. Isn't he
supposed to be at the vet's place?”

Lyle frowned as he too examined Dino
all over. Pulling the blood soaked bandage off of Dino's paw, “Was
there glass in the alley?”

“
None that I saw. He must
have escaped. Maybe stepped in something.”

Lyle scooped Dino into his arms. “I'm
gonna call Gina.”

He headed up to the office where he
cradled a trembling Dino while making the call. When he came back
into the kitchen he was pasty white. Both Kim and Jolene stared as
he sank to the floor, his knees buckling.

“
Gina. She's dead. Someone
broke in and...” The rest got stuck in his throat.

Jolene's heart sank as she knelt and
put her arms around him. “Oh baby. Let it out.”

Tears streamed down Lyle's face. “She
was a heroine, a savior. She taught Dino tricks.” Each disjointed
statement came out on a sob.

Will walked in. The sight of three of
the best people in his world sobbing had his own eyes tearing,
although for the life of him he didn't know what for.

He swiped at his eyes and looked at
Kim.

“
What are we crying about?”
Will asked softly.

Kim filled him in.

*

Detective Ethan Crane hadn't put it
together yet but when Lyle Morris called for Gina to ask about his
dog, a light came on in his head. He found himself once again at
the Village Diner looking for answers.

His audience consisted of Will, Lyle,
Kim and Jolene.

“
We're looking for a
correlation,” he told the group, “something to tie the two attacks
together. So far the only thing that seems evident is that both
victims were known to all of you.”

Kim shifted in his chair. “Does that
mean we're suspects?”

“
Not necessarily. But
possibly.”

“
Yeah, like that's a
straight answer.”

Lyle cautioned Kim with a hand on his
shoulder. “Look Detective, Gina was Dino's vet, but more than that,
she was a friend. There's no one here who would want to harm
her.”

“
Our working theory so far
is that she interrupted a burglar,” Crane informed. “The cage your
dog occupied was broken into. It looks like the perpetrator was
planning on abducting one or more of the animals and got
interrupted by Miss Kirby. The brutality of the attack tells us
that whoever did this has no qualms about taking human life. It was
overkill, whether intentional or not. We found a raincoat and
plastic overshoes abandoned nearby so the break-in was
premeditated. The evidence found on the scene is indicative of what
went down.”

“
What kind of evidence?”
asked Will.

Crane decided to test the waters. “The
murder weapon was a pair of gardening shears. Don't you find it
interesting that Lillian McFarley was beaten to death with garden
gloves, and now a second victim has been taken down with garden
shears?”

He gauged their reactions. Everyone
looked shocked.

“
I'll need to know all of
your staff's whereabouts last evening,” Crane told Will.

Will stood up. “You can interview them
one by one, but for us life goes on and I've got a restaurant to
run. Let's let everyone get back to work, then I'd like a word with
you in my office.”

Upstairs, Will invited Crane to sit in
one of the two arm chairs by the window while he took the
other.

“
I'll cut to the chase. Drew
Hammond has been following Kylie consistently. Yesterday afternoon
he followed us to my construction site in Langford. While we were
there an accident injured one of my men right after Hammond was
spotted outside by one of my crew. I can't prove it, but I know
Hammond was responsible.”

“
So noted. What are you
suggesting?”

Will liked Ethan Crane. He sensed the
man chased down justice rather than cut glorified notches into his
belt. “Maybe Hammond is just some sick puppy mooning over what he
can't have. Maybe he'll get tired of following Kylie around and
accept the fact that she doesn't want anything to do with
him.”

“
But?”

“
That incident at the job
site was intent to cause harm. I think Hammond is capable of a lot
worse. Merits taking a hard look at, his lifestyle, his comings and
goings. Hell, anything and everything.”

“
Already doing
it.”

That surprised him. “What have you
found out?”

“
So far nothing that points
a direct finger. Since we're on the subject, I checked you out too.
As far as I can tell you're an upright citizen with solid roots in
the community. On the surface, so is Hammond. But in his case I dug
a little further and came up with some interesting facts. The guy's
a loner, has no close friends and doesn't socialize at the gym or
in bars. His father is a hot shot at his game and junior toes the
line, and well. I got hold of some of his ex's and surprise,
surprise, all three of them dumped him for the very same reason
Kylie Lambert did.”

“
He didn't get any of them
pregnant, did he?”

“
Thankfully for them, no.
Seems to be the differentiating factor. I wonder, if she hadn't
gotten pregnant, would he be moving on to someone else right
now?”

“
What are the reasons the
women gave for dumping him?”

“
One was very specific. She
told me he played too rough with her during sex and produced a
knife. To liven things up he told her, but she wasn't buying it.
She bolted.”

“
Can't blame her. So Hammond
likes knives.”

“
Possibly fists too, wrapped
in garden gloves.”

Will's frown was intense. “Garden
shears are a kind of knife. Does Hammond do any
gardening?”

“
Well now, funny you should
ask.” Crane's eyes bore into Will's own, their soulful depths
glistening with keen perception. “Mrs. Olivia Hammond is an avid
gardener. I'm planning on paying her a visit this very afternoon.
Got some choice questions for her.”

*

Stanley Hammond picked up the newspaper
and read the headline aloud. “Village Murders Days
Apart!”

He slammed the paper back down on his
desk and eyeballed his son who sat slumped in a chair. They were in
Drew's office. The fact that Stanley had lowered himself to come
down here instead of summoning Drew to the penthouse demonstrated
his level of agitation.

“
Where were you last night?”
he asked. “I called your apartment and your cell phone at least ten
times.”

Drew raised his head. The glower in
his eyes had Stanley taking a step back. “Are you inferring
something, Dad? Are you saying I had anything to do with...” he
waved his hand in the direction of the newspaper,
“...that?”

“
Did you?”

“
No, of course not! Why
would I?”

Stanley stared deeply into Drew's
eyes. And saw. His emotions ran wild with the knowledge because he
knew what Drew was capable of, what he'd become capable of. One
particular emotion rose to override the others. Pity. He felt
overwhelming pity for the boy. He'd had his suspicions and taken
action. The tracking device he'd had hidden under Drew's car had
placed him five blocks from last night's murder. Too close for
comfort.

Something in Drew had shifted. The
areas of concern he'd generated in his adolescence had spawned
something greater, something far more dangerous in adulthood.
Stanley had never stopped keeping a watchful eye on Drew. Just as
Drew had battled the demon that seemed intent upon surfacing,
Stanley had come to terms with his own, the one that had caused him
to raise his hand to his wife and force her into acquiescence. One
that he deeply regretted ever having allowed to come out, reverting
him to a primitive oaf.

The depth of his own violent nature
had been roped in and contained until it no longer lived inside of
him.

It had taken up residence in Drew
instead. Ten-fold apparently. According to the papers, the murdered
woman had been slashed with garden shears. He was sure they'd
stopped the Sunday night presses for that one, he thought bitterly,
and wondered if Olivia had seen the news yet. He didn't pay much
attention to things like gardening equipment, but now he wanted an
inventory of her tools. Her gloves.

Stanley hadn't risen to such corporate
heights without acumen. His shrewd business practices had been a
testament to his sheer will and uncanny intellect. No one would
ever call him weak, but Drew was his Aquilles heel.

He'd had great plans for Drew. So when
he'd brought home Kylie Lambert, a nobody, a woman without a strong
familial bloodline that would benefit his own, announcing his plans
to marry her, he'd reacted the only way he could have.
Defensively.

Now he would continue to defend his
own.

He sat next to Drew and in a rare
physical contact took his son's hand. Drew looked up sharply.
Stanley was looking at the teeth marks clearly evident across the
knuckles. It solidified what he already knew.

Stanley spoke quietly. “Son, I know
you were at the vet's clinic last night. No, don't pull away.” He
tightened his grip on Drew's hand. “This cannot continue. Whatever
your reasons are for doing this, they must be addressed. You need
help.”

“
No!” Drew jerked his hand
free and glared. “I haven't done anything. It's not me, Dad. It's
not
me
!”

“
Drew, do you remember that
time when you were nine years old and... oh God, if I hadn't
stopped you... what you almost did to that raccoon. I should have
gotten you help then. But I failed you. Drew, I want to help you
now.”

Furious, Drew got to his feet. “What
are you saying, that I belong on the funny farm? That there's
something wrong with me?”

Stanley rose, not willing to give Drew
an advantage. His tone remained soft, cajoling. “Maybe it isn't a
part of yourself that you recognize. But by God, Drew, whatever it
is, it's going to be the end of you if you allow it to take
control.”

Pity. It was right there on his
father's face. He actually felt sorry for him.

A switch in his brain flipped and
suddenly Drew's bravado faded. Fear stepped in. “Are you going to
turn me in to the cops?”

“
Turn you in? You're my son!
The police have already been here once. I've got a feeling they'll
be back. Are you going to be able to face them, to defend
yourself?”

“
I... I don't know. Dad,
you're confusing me.” He crumbled, sobbing, shocking Stanley who
had never seen his son exhibit any other emotion than
defiance.

His father's heart melted. Stanley
knew what he had to do. Drew would disappear and he would cover his
son's tracks. He'd get him the best psychiatric care money could
buy.

“
Drew, calm down. I have a
plan.”

*

Olivia was half corked. It was only
four pm. She chuckled to herself and poured herself another
drink.

Ligaya entered the sun room where
Olivia had sequestered herself after reading the morning papers and
discovering that her garden shears had gone the way of her garden
gloves.

If there was one thing Olivia could
do, it was add. Add up the facts and there could only be one
conclusion. Although for the life of her she couldn't figure out
what that poor veterinarian had to do with Drew. A part of her
rebelled against the probability, made lame excuses, played
ping-pong with her intellect. It was too much of a coincidence to
ignore.

But she'd damn well try.

She took a long pull from her vodka
and tonic and raised inquisitive eyes to Ligaya.

“
Policeman here to see you,
Ma'am.”

Why didn't that surprise her? She'd
been expecting this visitor. Maybe for years now.

“
Show him in,” she said
magnanimously.

Detective Crane was ushered in.
Glancing at his identification, Olivia indicated a chair which he
took. “To what do I owe this visit, Detective?” Like she didn't
already know.

“
You have lovely gardens,
Mrs. Hammond. Do you have a hand in them, or do you hire a
service?”