Marla studied them both. Perhaps making sure Kylie wasn’t going to drop dead after drinking the water. Marla drank again, more slowly, pausing between swallows. When she finished, she looked at them all.
“So, I was afraid you might be about to poison me. Dumb, right? Those are guns you’re carrying. You could just shoot me. Or...” she paused, looking the two men up and down “...strangle me. But then again, a poison that’s slow-acting and undetectable...” She grimaced and glanced down, then up at them again. “Jimmy and I were talking about belonging to this mystery club. People like us who love mysteries and thrillers and true crime. Oh lord, it’s fun when it’s someone else. When it might be you, it’s different. It isn’t fun at all. It’s terrifying.”
She suddenly looked as if she was going to collapse into a dead faint. Jon moved forward, offering her an arm. She sagged.
“We may need an ambulance,” Jon said quietly to Rocky.
“No, no, no... People can’t see me,” Marla said. “Jimmy—oh, my God, Jimmy. He was just at his cardiologist’s... His heart was good. Passed the stress test with flying colors. We were talking about a trip to the Blue Ridge Mountains, hiking and enjoying nature.”
“How did you know he was in the hospital? You left your cell phone at your daughter’s house,” Jon asked her.
“I had the news on in the car, and a reporter announced the accident. It was important because of the hotel, I guess, and they were saying that Mr. James Marino of Salem had evidently experienced a heart attack. And I don’t know how—I mean, sure. It’s possible. But I don’t believe it. No, it’s just not probable.” She stopped and looked anxiously into the woods. “They could be out there,” she said in a hushed voice.
“Who, Mrs. Martinelli?” Jon asked.
“His people,” she said.
“Who?” Jon repeated gently.
“That slime... That Michael Westerly!” she whispered.
Jon looked over at Kylie for a second, but spoke softly to Mrs. Martinelli. “We’re going to get you out of here. And we’ll make sure you’re safe.”
She smiled slowly, nodding at him. “And Jimmy? Can you get me to see Jimmy?”
“Yes,” Jon promised her. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Twelve
Jon was impressed with Marla Martinelli. She seemed to be a remarkable woman. There was nothing wrong with her other than a little dehydration; she had simply hidden in the woods. When she had heard about the accident, she had immediately become suspicious. She and Jimmy had talked about speaking with the police. They kept telling themselves that, no, there was no way a man like Michael Westerly could be involved with murder.
“Jimmy and I were at the memorial one day when an open-air theater performance was going on. And we saw Annie there.”
“You knew her?” Jon asked.
He was driving them to the hospital. Kylie was at his side, and Marla was in the back seat between Rocky and Devin. He glanced into the rearview mirror. Marla met his gaze and nodded gravely.
“I volunteered at her school sometimes. She would talk about being incredibly happy. She was with someone, but for the time, she was just going to wait and see where it all went. At the show, I saw her with friends. But I noticed the way she looked at Westerly—and the way he looked at her. They weren’t as subtle as they might have liked to think. I also saw the way his wife looked at him, but I always considered her to be a prudish battle-ax. Oh, not that anyone should have an affair behind anyone’s back,” she clarified in a rush.
“But...anyway, Jimmy and I talked about it. At the time, it was just an observation. Maybe a little gossip. But when we heard that Annie had been killed...it was devastating. So bright, so lovely, so full of a goodness she wanted to share with everyone around her. Jimmy was a little worried,” Marla admitted. “He told me he thought Westerly might have done it. I told him he couldn’t hate the man just for being a politician, but the more we talked about it... Well, Jimmy told me he’d seen Westerly watching us when we were laughing and remarking on the way he and Annie were looking at one another. I guess we weren’t subtle.”
She paused. “I think Jimmy was concerned, but he wouldn’t let me stress about it. He said, ‘Hey, if he did or didn’t do it, we didn’t see it, we can’t prove anything, so he wouldn’t need to worry about us.’”
She paused, then said softly, “And we still can’t prove anything. But I believe with my whole heart that Westerly is worried about us. And that he did something to Jimmy.”
“Would Jimmy have been anywhere around Westerly?” Kylie asked. “If he was afraid of him—”
“Well, I don’t think he’d have wandered down a dark alley with him,” Marla said flatly. “Westerly couldn’t just kill a man like Jimmy with a knife. He’d have had to think of another way to get rid of him. Like bringing on a heart attack.”
“How would he have known that Jimmy was coming to the police station?” Jon asked her.
“I don’t know. We had dinner at the Cauldron that night. We like it—we have dinner there together at least once a week. And...” she lowered her voice as if she might be overheard “...and we were talking about what we’d seen. Someone might have overheard us.”
“Someone... Do you know who was at the Cauldron that night?”
“Battle-ax, for one.”
“Who?” Rocky asked.
Marla made a dismissive gesture. “Battle-ax. Westerly’s wife. She was with a few women from one of her posh garden clubs. And the usual crowd was there as well. Tour guides like to hang out there. The pretty bartender and the cute one. Matt. Who knows? The place was full, like usual—some locals and a horde of tourists. It’s got the best location.”
When they reached the hospital, they entered with Marla surrounded by the four of them. They moved swiftly through the corridors, bringing her up to Jimmy’s floor. Jon noted that Jimmy’s sons greeted Marla with affection, clearly happy that she had been found. Marla, in turn, was visibly relieved to see that Jimmy was doing better. He was in a private room, both sons could stay with him now, and Marla was welcome to be there, too.
Jimmy’s sons made it clear they wanted Marla to stay, for her safety. It would be easy to get her clothing, and there was a shower in the room. Frank and Anthony would happily get her anything she might want to eat. They were glad of the police guard, but both men vowed no one would be getting past them, in any case, to hurt Marla or their father.
Thankfully, Jimmy was very much on the right side of stable. His doctors believed he would make a full recovery, and they expected him to awaken and talk at any time.
Jon stepped out into the hall and called Ben to make sure the police guard was made aware there was a chance there might be trouble, though none of them knew in what form.
Watching from just outside the hospital room, Jon noted that Kylie was sitting next to Marla, who was holding her hand tightly and leaning toward her. She had slid amazingly well into her accidental role, working with him and his fellow Krewe members. She had an innate inner light, he thought. An understanding of human suffering, an ability to care for what others were feeling.
With Marla safely at the hospital with Jimmy, and the staff and police aware of the danger the two might be in, Jon knew he had to hurry to the jail.
Matt would be released shortly, and Jon needed to talk to him one more time.
* * *
“I’m amazed at how easily you found Marla,” Devin said, pressing the button on the hospital floor’s coffee machine. “I thought that we’d be combing the woods forever. Obviously, I’m grateful we did find her easily. And very grateful that she was hiding and that we didn’t discover...”
“A body in the trees,” Kylie said. “Me, too. She was smart. Unless I’m way off track, and we’re thinking about this all the wrong way.”
“I think you nailed it as it was happening,” Devin said
sadly.
“Too bad it wasn’t a precognition or an early vision or something that would have saved Annie,” Kylie said. She put in another cup and Devin hit the button again.
“You’ve never had anything like that happen to you before?”
Kylie shook her head.
“And you never spoke to anyone who was...deceased? Never had a feeling, or anything that might suggest that you had a different perception?”
“Never,” Kylie said. “And I didn’t want to accept or believe any of it. But I saw that old guy sitting next to you. Obadiah. And... I want justice for Annie.”
Devin studied her. “I believe that Westerly is our killer. Still, finding the proof for a search or even putting him under arrest is going to be the trick. So far, we don’t have much.”
“So far, you have a woman claiming she was in another woman’s body as she was being murdered,” Kylie said wryly. “And two people convinced he was Annie’s secret lover. And a wife who will swear she was with him at the time of the murder.”
“If we went to court with that, it would be like setting the country back three hundred years.” Devin shook her head. “Setting a precedent that would allow for all kinds of fabricated evidence. Still, knowing that Westerly is a killer is half the battle. We’re on to the other half. That’s something.”
They had filled six coffee cups, one for everyone except Jimmy. He wasn’t up for coffee yet—he had to open his eyes for that. But his nurses were confident, as was the doctor who had made rounds that night, that it was just a matter of time. He was well on his way to a full recovery.
“Wasn’t there a case somewhere along the line where a ghost’s testimony was allowed?” Kylie asked. “I saw it on one of the travel or science channels.”
Devin looked at her curiously. “Yes, a real case. But it was in 1897. A young woman named Zona Shue was reported dead by her husband. When the doctor came to the house, he had her in bed, and he cried and carried on, and the doctor wrote a death certificate. She was buried. The woman’s mother claimed in the weeks to come that Zona was appearing at the foot of her bed, claiming that her husband had murdered her.
“If I remember correctly, a prosecutor discovered that Zona had been the man’s third wife—and another of his wives had died under suspicious circumstances. Stranger still, the husband, Trout Shue, had been heard mumbling that it could never be proven. Anyway, the young woman was exhumed, and a real autopsy was done. And just as the ghost had claimed to her mother, the autopsy proved she’d been strangled. The mother did testify in court about the visit from her daughter, the ghost. Trout Shue was convicted and sentenced to life in prison but died within three years of a disease. The prosecutor hadn’t wanted to use the ghost testimony, though. The defense brought it in to try to make the case ridiculous.”
“Interesting—and scary,” Kylie said.
“It could never happen again,” Devin pointed out. “The doctor in that case felt sorry for Trout, who was crying so much over his wife, and didn’t complete a real autopsy. In that case, it did prove to be a good thing, but...if testimonies like that were allowed, God knows how many bitter or deluded people might like to see others imprisoned for life or facing a death sentence.”
Devin shook her head. “We are incredibly lucky to have our strange form of guidance, but hard, physical evidence is crucial. Eyewitness accounts can even be questioned. Witnesses often see what they want to, or don’t see people or events in context. But we will find what we need—I believe that with my whole heart. Sometimes, even fearing that the truth is known causes a suspect to make the mistake that finally allows the courts to put him away.”
Kylie nodded. “I’m going to have faith,” she said. “In you guys. Not that I don’t have faith, but we all know that having faith hasn’t always made the world right. Still, I can’t believe that I saw what I saw during the regression for nothing. Or that I felt the pull into the forest.” She shrugged and grinned. “I’m going to run with the notion that we don’t use all of our brain’s capacity, and I’ve managed to tap into one of the unused bits for a reason.”
“There you go,” Devin told her.
They carried the coffee carefully back to Jimmy’s room.
Anthony was reading on his phone, Frank was in a chair at the foot of his dad’s bed, and Marla was right next to Jimmy. She’d showered and changed, but her night in the woods must have been taking its toll—she held Jimmy’s hand but slouched in her chair, her head to the side as she dozed.
“Thanks,” Frank said in a whisper, rising to take one of the cups. Anthony rose as well, smiling as he accepted a cup. Both brothers were dark-haired, handsome young men and evidently close as a family.
“Coffee.”
They all heard the word at the same time and, startled, turned to the bed. Kylie caught Anthony’s cup before it could fall; his father had spoken.
There was nothing like it—watching Jimmy open his eyes, seeing Marla rouse and then let out a sob as she held his hand, the love in her eyes, in his eyes, and then the love of his sons as they took their turn with their father, sobbing as well.
It was a good feeling. They’d found Marla, and so far, kept her and Marino safe. He’d be with his family, hopefully for years to come.
Kylie sank into a chair.
There was still no way to prove that Westerly was a murderer. And that meant that even now, no one even remotely involved was safe.
* * *
Unsurprisingly, Matt watched Jon as if he were the devil himself. He had spent a night in jail—and possibly was entirely innocent.
“You’re all right talking to me again?” Jon asked him.
They sat across from each other in an interrogation room. Matt wasn’t cuffed, as he was due to leave.
“If talking to you is going to get me out of here faster, I’ll talk. The problem is that I have absolutely no idea what you want me to say.”
“Matt, I’m not sure how to explain this any more clearly. You were in a cemetery, in a secluded spot with a young woman. You were standing behind her with a knife.”
Matt sounded a little desperate as he replied, “Okay. That’s what you saw. What I saw was a young woman I met at a bar where I work, a woman who’s from the area and interested in local history. Look,” he said, frustrated, “I don’t know what it appeared to be from your angle. I was focused on the stone. I can take you and show you.”
“Just so you’re aware, the story we told people for the time being is that you’re helping the police,” Jon said.
Matt lowered his head. “Thanks. I like you—you’re a decent tipper. But I don’t understand what you’re thinking. You think that I...somehow managed to kill Annie Hampton, clean up, and start at work just minutes after she was murdered?”
“You’re wrong. I don’t think you murdered Annie.”
“Then...what?”
“Annie’s death is the fourth in a list of murders we’ve connected. You happened to be in the other locations at the times of those murders, too.”
Hudson frowned and shook his head. “I travel! I’m an actor—a performer. Maybe they’re not going to rush an Oscar to me anytime soon, but I do get gigs working on different projects. When I’m traveling, it’s for work. Projects tend to go late into the night. You can check on my whereabouts anywhere that I’ve gone.”
According to Angela’s research, Matt had never missed one of his performances. There were also ample pictures of him with audience members after the performances, posted to his own and others’ social media.
Alibis for every minute of his days couldn’t be proven, but Angela had even had hotel managers checking the times when his keys had been used to enter the places he stayed. If he’d left his room at night, he’d either known how to trick a system or, in one case at least, leave safely out of a fourteenth-story window.
There was an air about Mat
t that made Jon believe him. But it wasn’t the time to go by simple instinct. Psychopaths were often skilled at appearing charming.
Westerly had killed Annie; Jon didn’t doubt Kylie’s vision in the slightest. But Westerly also had solid alibis. So unless he had an accomplice, he couldn’t have killed the other women. Which left Matt, someone who had been in the cities where murder victims had been found.
Just in case, Jon made a mental note to have other Cauldron regulars investigated, to see if anyone else had a history of traveling up and down the East Coast. He also needed to check out the men and women who worked for Westerly.
What were the motives behind the other murders, though? Had Westerly been having affairs with all of them? Not likely—the other women were suffering addiction and the hardships brought on by substance abuse. Their lives wouldn’t have led them to a man like Michael Westerly.
Matt leaned forward. “I swear to you, I didn’t kill anyone. I’m a bartender and an actor. I’m really good at the first, trying hard at the second. I see a lot in the restaurant—I hear a lot. Good bartenders are good listeners, and not just when people are talking.” He paused, frowning. “I was at the Cauldron the other night... You were there, too, when Kylie had that bizarre reaction to Michael Westerly on the TV. Then the news about Annie Hampton broke...”
His voice trailed away, and his eyes widened as he looked at Jon. “Okay, I read in the news that Annie’s friends were talking about a mystery lover. Why was it a secret affair? Maybe they were talking about someone with major league influence.” He stared at Jon hard. “Michael Westerly. You all think that Senator Westerly was Annie’s mystery lover, don’t you? But you think that somehow I’m involved? I’m telling you, I wouldn’t go out of my way to help him out of a puddle, much less commit a murder for the man. And that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Matt, you’re in here because you were standing over a woman with a knife. And because your schedule matches up with other murders.”
Seeing Darkness Page 18