The Woman (20 page)

Read The Woman Online

Authors: David Bishop

Tags: #Fiction, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #General, #Mystery & Detective

“Now hold on. I didn’t run. I was coming back. I mean . . . I’m here, right? I just needed some time. I had been attacked. My best friend had been brutally murdered. When that other man was found dead on the beach, just down from my house, it became too much. I just felt unsafe.”

“What had Cynthia told you about her work,” Ben asked, “about the work of her company, SMITH & CO.?”

“Like I said before, we never talked about it. I asked her several times, back when we first starting getting together. She always just passed it off. ‘It’s boring stuff,’ she’d say, ‘nothing that would interest you. I work all day long. Let’s talk about other things.’ She’d shrug and change the subject.”

“And she never told you anything more?”

“Not while she was alive.”

“What does that mean?” Clark and Ben both asked in unison.

“She left a letter at my house. I found it after she was dead. The letter explained that some man had hired her company to do illegal research, and that he had used what she had dug up to extort favors from government officials.”

“Who was this guy? What officials? State? Federal?”

“I don’t know, Ben. That’s the entire letter, except that I should get away for a while. Let it all pass and then things might go back to normal.”

Clark said, “Well, that normal part certainly hasn’t come true.”

“Where’s the letter?” Ben asked.

“I burned it. Cynthia ended her letter saying that she had wanted me to know that much. That it would only hurt me if I knew more. That I should burn the letter, forget about it and get on with my life.”

“All right,” Ben said, “water under the bridge. Now tell me about the man murdered on the beach?”

“I only know what was reported in the news,” Linda said. “That a middle-aged man had been found shot, lying in the surf.”

“Linda. The man was shot in the head and the heart, just like Cynthia. That’s quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’m no detective, Ben, but doesn’t that mean the shooter is probably the same guy who killed Cynthia?”

“I have to ask you where you were that night.”

Linda glanced at Clark. He had promised to be her alibi. But now that he was a deputy, he might feel compelled to change his mind. Her palms felt damp. Her heart picked up its pace. She would have to say something soon, something lame like being home alone that night. She could mention going for a walk. But that wouldn’t have prevented her from shooting the guy.

Clark broke the silence. “She was with me, Ben. You remember, Linda. You came down around six. We had burgers and a couple of beers.” Then Clark looked back to Ben, “We listened to some music and watched the ocean. The moon was bright, the surf alive. You might remember that night, Chief, it was really spectacular.”

“Clark,” Chief McIlhenny said, “it’s getting a bit breezy. Would you go back to the car and get my cap? It’s on the backseat.” When Clark had gone far enough that he could no longer hear them, Ben turned to Linda. “What time did you leave Clark’s house?”

Linda pointed at a spouting from a California gray whale. A pod of them lived close to the Sea Crest cliffs, feeding year round off the kelp beds. “I left around eleven,” she said, “then I walked home and went to bed.”

“Clark,” the chief hollered, “did you find my hat?” Clark raised his arm holding the cap. Ben gave him a come-back-here wave.

“She left my place a few minutes after eleven,” Clark said after walking back. “If that’s what you wanted to know. Here’s your hat.”

“I had to do it that way.”

“Sure, boss,” Clark said. “I figured that’s why your head got cold.”

“How long you been a deputy?”

“Two days, boss. Two good days, though.”

“You got yourself a future in this here police work, Deputy.”

“Thanks, boss. With you as my mentor, how can I miss?” They shared a light laugh.

“Now, can I ask you a question, Ben?” Linda asked.

“Sure.”

“Did anything come from all the forensics and ballistics and autopsies?”

“Nothing really. The forensics brought up a few hairs at Cynthia’s but they were all female so they were likely hers or yours, or some other friends. The national crime labs couldn’t match them to anyone. Still we’ve got them cataloged, but right now we’ve got nothing to check them against. Ballistics means nothing without a gun barrel to compare markings to those on the bullet. The autopsies told us what we knew. Everyone died of gunshots at about the times we had expected.”

Over the next ten minutes Linda explained that she was leaving again. That she would be back after the murders had been solved. Before they drove away, Linda hugged both men.

“Thank you for your concern for me,” she said, “but please just solve this case so I can come home.”

When they drove away, she knew it had been smart for her to come back to Sea Crest. If she hadn’t, Chief McIlhenny would have increasingly become suspicious about her involvement. She had told them the truth, just not the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Her lies were by omission: staying silent about Cynthia’s second letter. Not mentioning the money and diamonds. And of course keeping the false identities. And then there was the part about the dead guy on the beach, more specifically the part about her pulling the trigger.

She had omitted far more than she had told. But she had seen no workable alternative. Only one of her omissions bothered her, staying silent about the man on the beach and letting Clark perjure himself. Well, technically it wasn’t perjury unless he said it on the stand under oath. Still, with the Chief’s integrity in doubt there had been no other good choice.

Last night before going to sleep, she had written a letter telling the rest of the story, including the identity of Webster. Before leaving Sea Crest she planned to take the letter to Cynthia’s attorney, and instruct him that in the event she also turned up dead he was to open it and take it to the FBI.

Chapter 31

Webster picked up his scrambled satellite phone, dialed, and was greeted by, “Chief McIlhenny here.”

“You know who this is. Anything new to report?”

“This stops now. Your dealings have caused seven deaths. I have interrogated Linda Darby at length. She knows nothing that should cause you any concern. Your obsession with Ms. Darby is over. If anything happens to her, I will blow your operation sky high. I don’t care if you’re government or not, and I don’t think you are. Do you understand me?”

“I understand I must have dialed a wrong number.”

“You heard me. Linda Darby is off limits.”

“I don’t know anybody named McIlhenny or a woman named Linda Darby. And I certainly had nothing to do with any deaths wherever you are. I’m hanging up now. I’ve dialed incorrectly and apologize for the inconvenience.”

* * *

Ryan Testler had gotten up in Portland after Linda left the room and followed her to some house. Two hours later, a man came out. Testler continued to wait and when she came out he followed her to the Oregon coast. As he drove south of Lincoln City, his cell phone rang.

It was Webster. “I’ve got a job for you,” he said, “a rush job. Chief McIlhenny is coming apart. I want him down today.”

“Are we talking about the police chief in Sea Crest?”

“Who else?”

“Why?”

“I already told you. He’s coming apart. The man was never committed to our work. He’s threatening to blow the whistle on my operation, to ruin everything I’ve worked to create.”

“He doesn’t know your identity.”

“He knows enough and as a police chief he can have the ear of the Feds. And he has undoubtedly seen you on several occasions so he knows how to describe you. Neither of us needs this problem. Make it go away.”

“Cost you double.”

“What?”

“He’s a cop. More heat.”

“Oh, all right. The usual method of payment, but get it done soon.”

“Yes sir.”

Testler hung up. He didn’t want to kill McIlhenny. The man had killed a mobster in Jersey after that man had beaten a woman to death. Testler would have done the same thing had he been in McIlhenny’s place. But then, a double fee was a double fee. What Testler was uncertain about was what to do about Linda Darby. He had her set up so he could kill her any time, and killing her would keep him in good with Webster. Conversely, to protect Darby would require that he turn on Webster. And if he was not going to kill Linda, there was no reason to kill McIlhenny. Then again, it would be nice to pick up the double fee regardless of what he decided regarding Linda Darby.

He would have to decide soon, or find a way to buy himself more time.

* * *

At eight, Testler went into O’Malley’s to have something to eat. The place wasn’t crowded but the dish trays in the corner were stacked high so the earlier dinner traffic had been heavy.

He had finished a beef dip sandwich and sat drinking coffee, when Chief McIlhenny slipped into the booth across from him. The vinyl seat protested against the leather of his holster.

“Hello. We haven’t met, but we should.”

“All right. I’m—”

“Don’t bother. The name would not be real. You’re the man who has been picking up the surveillance disks I’ve left at the dead drops.”

“If I did know what you are talking about, are you sure you want to be doing this?”

“Yes. I want your boss to know I’m through.”

“If what you say is true, I don’t imagine he would any longer need that surveillance, given that the consulting company has burned down and the workers are all dead.”

“I’m through staying silent. Tomorrow, I’m going to the state attorney general and tell what I know.”

“Coffee, Chief?” O’Malley called out from behind the bar.

Ben nodded. “Black, and bring along one of your marionberry tarts.” He turned to Testler. “Join me?”

“Why not,” Testler said holding up two fingers. O’Malley nodded. Then Testler narrowed his eyes at McIlhenny. “Why are you telling me?”

“I figure you know who Mister X is. Without his identity, my story will lack corroboration. Go with me. Together we can bring him down and put a stop to all this.”

“What if the government’s behind it?”

“I don’t want to believe that,” the chief said, shaking his head. “But, either way, this has to come out. If it’s the government, it’s an abuse of power.”

“Do you plan to include your killing in Jersey?”

“You know about that, do you?” The chief pursed his lips and nodded his head, before continuing, “I’m going to come clean on all of it. Still, being a practical man, I’ll try to obtain immunity for Jersey in return for this new, bigger case. Come with me. It’s your chance to get free of it as well.”

“Have you considered that if I’m who you think I am, I may not want to be free of it?”

“I have thought about that, a great deal, and I may be wrong,” McIlhenny said when O’Malley moved away after putting down their coffees, “but you’ve been around Sea Crest for a several weeks, off and on. I figure you’re the man who saved Linda Darby in the alley. I also figure you’re the man who coordinated her being grabbed off the street in the first place. That makes you conflicted. I figure you might just like to get off that horse you’re riding.”

“Hypothetically speaking, Chief, I know you’re all stoked up about having made your decision and are eager to put it in play. Then again, your chances of bargaining for immunity for Jersey go way up if you’ve got me along to corroborate, and to identify the head man. Without his identity your state attorney general has nowhere to go with whatever you tell him. I’ll tell you this much about the head man. He is wealthy and highly connected. You need to have him by the short hairs or all you’ll accomplish is to enhance his mystique. Bottom line: you’ve been thinking about this for a while, but you’ve just dropped it in my lap. I need at least a week to decide.”

“I’ll leave for the capital in three days, at 9:30 in the morning. Be at my office then if you’re going with me.” McIlhenny stood, dropped a ten on the table and walked out, waving at O’Malley standing behind the bar holding two warm marionberry tarts.

* * *

Events were cornering Testler. He had to decide. Chief McIlhenny had been right about one thing, Testler would love to get out of his entanglement with Webster, but he didn’t want to give up the monies Webster would pay him over the next few years. He even imagined shedding the name Ryan Testler and returning to his real name. With him along to identify Webster, McIlhenny would have a solid shot at immunity for having killed that deserving bastard in Jersey. However, Testler knew that his own chances for immunity were next to none, given the multiple assassinations he had carried out. So, Webster had also been right about one thing, Chief McIlhenny was not only a threat to Webster, but also a threat to Testler.

Chapter 32

Linda glanced in her rearview mirror. The dark, four-door sedan was still there. Two cars back, matching her speed. It had taken the rest of the morning and a good part of the afternoon for her to drive from Sea Crest back to Portland, through it, and onto the bridge over the Columbia River that would take her into the state of Washington.

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