Ruthless (9 page)

CHAPTER 29

Hoodie was lost in thought. After laying low for a couple of weeks, action was now required. As expected, the passage of time had allowed the next steps to become clear.

Hoodie had a new target, a person unaware of the several hours of daily surveillance to which he was now being subjected. The target arose and normally left for work at around 7:30 a.m., returning around 5:00 p.m., day in and day out. Hoodie liked patterns. They could be used to anticipate…to predict…to trap. People’s patterns were often their greatest weaknesses. The patterns became so predictable that it was laughably easy to use them to lay an ambush.

After studying the target for a week, Hoodie formed an action plan and began to put it into motion.

CHAPTER 30

On the Monday following her date with Miles Worley, Chelsea arrived at work a bit earlier than usual. Alton had needed to conduct an early-morning teleconference. Since he accompanied Chelsea to work, she had readily agreed to the schedule change.

Alton always walked Chelsea to her desk, and they proceeded down the entry hall together as usual. Chelsea’s desk was visible from a distance down the long passage. As they came into sight of it, they both noticed someone in her cubicle. The person spotted them and hurriedly moved off. When she arrived at her desk, Chelsea asked Becky, who sat at an adjacent desk, who her visitor had been.

“It was that Hawaiian guy…Brent,” said Becky. “Didn’t you date him for a while?”

“Yes,” said Chelsea, puzzled, “for a little while. Did you see what he was doing?”

“No, sorry.”

Chelsea shrugged and began her day. Alton walked towards his own desk, deep in thought.

CHAPTER 31

At the end of the week, Alton and Chelsea shared lunch in the Kruptos cafeteria.

“I’m a little surprised Miles Worley hasn’t stopped by to ask me on a second date,” said Chelsea with a chuckle.

“Yeah—me, too,” admitted Alton. On one hand, perhaps Miles knew Brent Tanaka was still interested. But on the other hand, Miles doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would care about a little detail like that.

“Surely Miles had to view last Saturday as a virtuoso performance,” continued Chelsea. “Maybe after such a strong showing, he considers me beneath him and has decided to upgrade.”

Alton contemplated a pithy comment but opted to keep it to himself, deciding instead his quiet snicker was sufficient.

The following Wednesday, Chelsea and Alton arrived at Kruptos to begin their workday. They had been in the building for only two hours when Alton approached Chelsea’s cubicle. His brows were knitted together, and his body was tense.

“Do you have a few minutes?” he asked.

“Yes. Do you have some news about my uncle’s murder?” asked Chelsea, sitting perfectly still.

Alton shook his head. He pulled over a chair and sat down facing her.

“Miles Worley is dead.” Alton waited a moment for Chelsea to absorb the news. She sat in silence for a count of ten.

“What happened?” she finally asked.

“We won’t know for a few days, but he didn’t die peacefully. He hadn’t shown up for work or answered his phone since yesterday morning, so his boss called the police. They found Worley dead in bed. There was vomit on the sheets, and his hands were grasping his stomach. His face was contorted, too. The symptoms are consistent with poisoning, but the police can’t rule out some type of fast-acting infection until the toxicology report comes back in a few days.”

Chelsea shook her head, half-listening. “Why is this happening?” She seemed in a daze.

“Come on,” Alton said gently. “I’ll let Winston—excuse me—
Mr. Lewis
know what’s happened and that we’ll be leaving for the day.”

When they arrived back at Chelsea’s apartment, Alton shared the details of Worley’s demise with Mallory.

“If Worley’s death turns out to be a poisoning, it might cast Monica Shaffer’s death in a new light,” concluded Alton, “especially if it helps explain how Monica died.”

“I agree,” replied Mallory. “The path of this investigation may turn on any new information his death reveals. I’ll call the Alpharetta PD and ask them to keep me in the loop when the on-scene investigation and labs are complete.”

Several days later, the police called Mallory with the toxicology report. To spare Chelsea’s overwrought feelings, Mallory stepped into a back bedroom to take the call.

When her conversation ended, Mallory returned to the den and asked Alton to speak privately. Chelsea was too distraught to be burdened with the details of any more deaths, and Pam Edwards’ constitution didn’t appear to have ever been strong enough to bear such information in the first place.

“The labs came back,” said Mallory when they were alone. “The diagnosis was ‘acute toxic exposure to arsenic.’ They also confirmed that it was inorganic arsenic—a poison—and not the naturally-occurring, organic kind that’s found in seafood. The police didn’t find any consumer products or medicines in Worley’s apartment that could have been the source. It was an intentional poisoning. They don’t consider it a suicide since the source of the arsenic wasn’t in the apartment and since Worley showed no previous signs of depression.”

“Interesting,” said Alton. “Did they provide any other information?”

“Yes. Worley had a McDonald’s sweet-tea cup on his nightstand. The labs confirmed trace amounts of arsenic in the cup, so it was the immediate source of the poison. The coroner placed the time of death in the late evening, around ten or eleven o’clock.  Based on the concentration of arsenic in the sweet tea, the coroner estimates that Worley would have consumed the poison a few hours earlier, probably around eight or nine o’clock. The police found Worley’s McDonalds receipt in his car. It was time-stamped just after five-thirty that afternoon. So whoever poisoned him must have somehow gotten the poison into his cup between five-thirty and eight or nine o’clock.”

“Do we know where Worley was that evening?”

“Probably at home, but it’s just a guess, really. He had no other receipts or credit card purchases to indicate any other stops before returning to his apartment.”

“Did the police interview the neighbors to see if anyone saw Worley receive a visitor?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, none of them saw anyone. It doesn’t prove that a visitor didn’t arrive, simply that no one saw them. That’s all the information the police have.”

Alton pondered for a minute. “Now that we know Worley’s death was a murder, is it any more likely that Monica Shaffer’s was one, too?”

“It’s tough to say without knowing Monica’s cause of death. We know she didn’t die of arsenic poisoning, and no other poisons came back on her labs, so probably the two deaths aren’t related. Plus, there’s no direct forensic evidence that links her death with Worley’s. From all accounts, they didn’t even know each other. Perhaps it’s just a strange coincidence that their deaths follow on the heels of the first two murders.”

Alton pondered for a minute. “So the bottom line is we still don’t know if the four recent deaths are related or just a coincidence. The first two murders seem clearly mob-related. But the mob explanation makes less sense for these last two deaths. Assuming Monica’s death was a homicide, could the mob be trying to use these more recent murders to throw suspicion off of themselves?”

“Possibly. It’s a classic deflection technique: murder someone else to obfuscate your connection to your first, intended victim—or in our case, to the first
two
victims.”

“Another possibility is that these last two deaths have nothing to do with the first two, or with each other,” said Alton. “We’re assuming they’re related, but that’s not necessarily so. Monica’s death may have been natural, and the person who killed Worley might have a completely different motive.”

“True,” said Mallory. “For Worley, the police will investigate the usual motive: who stands to benefit? For example, did Worley have a life insurance policy or a will? If so, who stood to gain? Was there anyone at work or elsewhere who had a vendetta or grudge against him? Did he have any disputes with neighbors? Did he sleep with anyone’s wife?”

“Good,” said Alton. “I think they should follow every lead. Four people are already dead. Whether the same culprits are behind all four deaths or not, we need to find everyone who’s responsible. They need to be brought to justice, and Chelsea needs to be able to resume her life.”

Although Mallory nodded in agreement, Alton noticed an unsettled look in her eyes. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her unease. Perhaps he was reading something that wasn’t even there. Since their conversation had ended, he decided to let the matter drop.

As they emerged from the back bedroom, Chelsea called out, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Just more details on the cases—nothing earth-shattering,” responded Alton, shielding Chelsea’s battered nerves from the impact of more distasteful information. “On a more pleasant note, I got some good news this morning. David and Fahima will be flying back into town the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s awesome!” exclaimed Mallory. “I didn’t know they were returning.”

“Neither did I,” said Alton. “I guess they miss our company already.” The news seemed to cheer up Chelsea, who had enjoyed the wise-cracking David and the quiet, earnest Fahima.

“Maybe we can have them over here for dinner again,” suggested Chelsea. “I never thought I’d say this, but I miss David’s bad jokes.”

Alton noticed Mallory give a start at Chelsea’s statement. Was Mallory surprised at Chelsea’s repeating the precise statement she herself had made several nights ago? Alton wasn’t sure, but Mallory’s expression lost a bit of its former energy, and she remained a little quieter than usual throughout the evening.

CHAPTER 32

The next evening found the four of them together again. Pam and Chelsea conversed quietly, while Alton and Mallory used the back bedroom to hold a call with Agent Stewart, exchanging new information on the cases.

Suddenly a loud series of knocks erupted from the front door. Chelsea and Pam instinctively looked to the back bedroom, but the door was tightly shut. As Chelsea turned back towards the sound of the knocking, Alton emerged and began walking down the hall towards her.

Chelsea advanced towards the front door.

“You’re not going to—,” began Pam.

“No, of course not,” said Chelsea, “but I do want to see who’s there.”

She gazed through the peephole and observed a pizza deliveryman wearing a “Marco Polo Pizza” cap. She didn’t think Alton and Mallory had placed an order but wasn’t sure.

“Pizza delivery!” bellowed the visitor.

“Pam, be a dear and go ask the others if they ordered a pizza,” said Chelsea.

Pam scurried down the hall and immediately encountered Alton. In the meantime, Chelsea called through the door, “Who are you delivering to?”

“I just have an address, lady, not a name,” returned the voice. “You building G, apartment one-oh-three?”

“Yes,” replied Chelsea, “but I don’t believe we ordered anything.”

“You sure?”

Pam returned and shook her head “no,” confirming that neither Alton nor Mallory had placed an order.

“Yes, I’m sure,” replied Chelsea.

Some mild swearing erupted from the other side of the door. The doorknob rattled as the visitor unsuccessfully attempted to twist it from the outside.  “Can I come in?”

By this time, Alton and Mallory had joined Chelsea at the front door. Alton shook his head.

“I’m sorry, no,” said Chelsea.

“I just need to set the pizza down, lady. I gotta call my boss to see if he can track down the right address.”

“You’ll have to set it down in the hall. You’re not coming in here.”

“All right! All right! Thanks for nothin’.”

Alton peered through the peephole. “You again!” he exclaimed softly. The man wore a name badge with “Eddie” printed in white letters on black, plastic tape. Alton continued to watch as the man walked down the sidewalk towards the parking lot.

As the deliveryman climbed into his car, Alton opened the door to take a closer look at the vehicle’s make and model. Moments later, the door to the unit two apartments down opened, and the large neighbor whom Alton had previously noticed exited his apartment. He seemed surprised to see Alton, but this time acted as if Alton weren’t present, strolling causally to his Accord. As Alton watched the man leave, he tilted his head in concentration.

“Just like the first time,” he murmured to himself. “The pizza guy arrives, and Chelsea’s neighbor pops right out the door.”

“I recognize that expression, Alton,” said Mallory. “You have your ‘deep thought’ face on. What is it?”

“That’s the same guy who ‘misdelivered’ the pizza a few nights ago,” said Alton. “Doesn’t that seem rather coincidental? The same delivery person going to the wrong address twice in the space of a week?”

“Yeah, it’s weird, but what does it mean?” asked Chelsea.

“It gets weirder. Both times, a minute after Eddie—the deliveryman—arrived, your neighbor two doors down ‘happened’ to leave his apartment.” He explained the neighbor’s odd behavior on both occasions. “Assume for a moment that Eddie’s two misdeliveries weren’t a coincidence,” he continued. “What would be his purpose in coming here? And could Eddie and your neighbor be working together somehow?”

“If they are trying to gain access to this apartment,” said Mallory, “they could be connected to the first two deaths and are trying to find a way to silence Chelsea. That opens up more questions, though. If they
were
involved with the first two deaths, were they also involved with one or both of the second ones? Could they have been hired to silence you? You didn’t recognize Eddie’s voice, did you, Chelsea?”

“No, not at all.”

“I think Eddie’s involvement is more likely than your neighbor’s,” said Alton. “Eddie has definitely acted suspiciously, whereas your neighbor is simply exhibiting his typical odd behavior, right?”

Chelsea nodded.

“In any case,” said Mallory, “perhaps the Mancini family hired Eddie or both him and your neighbor to carry out the first two murders. Then we get back to our old questions,” she said, looking at Alton. “If they’re involved with the first two assassinations, were they attempting to deflect attention away from the family with other, random killings? Or could the first two murders have nothing to do with the last two? The MO of the last two deaths was very different than that of the first two, so maybe they aren’t related. Heck, we don’t even think Monica’s death
was
a homicide, so it’s definitely different from the rest.”

“Investigating Eddie’s background would be a reasonable next step,” said Alton. “What can you check without a warrant?”

“Standard public and police records should be sufficient to learn plenty,” replied Mallory. “We know Eddie’s first name and the make and model of his car.”

“The first three digits of his license plate were AAF. He pulled away before I could read the rest.”

“Okay. I’ll start with that tomorrow.”

“In the meantime,” said Alton, “Pam, I was wondering if you’d be able to stay a little later than usual tonight.” Remembering Mallory’s earlier distracted look, he continued, “Mallory has been working hard these last few weeks and deserves a break. With David and Fahima flying back into town tomorrow, we’ll be even busier the next few days. I’d like to take her out to dinner and some shopping, if she’s agreeable to that.”

Mallory smiled at Alton. “What do you think?” She turned to face Pam Edwards. “Pam, would that work for you?”

“Yes,” replied Pam, “I can stay until ten or eleven. It’s no problem, I think.” Although she acquiesced to the plan, her countenance nonetheless betrayed a measure of unease.

After a rundown of the night’s safety procedures with Chelsea and Pam, Alton and Mallory made haste to depart, hoping to pack the most fun into their few precious hours alone together.

Several hours later, Alton called Chelsea. “Hey, it’s Alton. Is everything all right with you?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine here. Are you okay? You sound worried.”

“We’re at Lennox Square. My car conked out in the parking lot. It won’t turn over at all. I’m pretty sure the battery’s dead. I wanted to let you know that we’ll have to call a taxi to come pick us up. It’ll probably be past eleven before we get back. Can you ask Pam if she can stay until we arrive?”

“I have a better idea,” said Chelsea. “My friend Sylvie and I have been talking for a while about getting together for a girls’ weekend, but this whole murder business has put a stop to it. Why don’t I just spend the night with Sylvie? That way you don’t have to worry about rushing back so quickly.”

“Are you sure? How will you get there?”

“I’ll drive. Pam and I will leave at the same time. Don’t worry,” she reassured. “You’ve taught me well.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, Alton agreed, secretly happy to have more time alone with Mallory, yet still a bit concerned over the efficacy of their improvised plan.