Toxic Blonde

by David Stever

  “She was a good friend to me during my divorce. She does not deserve this. I won’t rest until the bastard is strung up by his balls.” Her dagger eyes locked on me as if I were going to pay for the sins of every cheating husband.

  “Well, proper investigation first. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Fine.” She went back into the room.

  I made my way out of the hospital, thinking Bellamy better ante up a generous divorce settlement before the divorced wives club dragged him to the woods.

  8

  Spring Falls Road connects the fashionable Spring Falls community with the North Shore neighborhood. Midway along the ten-mile stretch, the road makes a wide, sweeping left turn as it parallels Spring Falls Creek. A police cruiser, with the red and blues flashing, sat on the shoulder, parked behind two other PCPD crime scene vehicles. I pulled behind the cruiser. An accident investigation team had one lane blocked and were taking photographs and measuring skid marks.

  Bridges met me at my car. “Delarosa.”

  “Sergeant. What’s the thinking?”

  “Let me show you.”

  I followed him to a mangled portion of the guardrail that failed to do its job. We stood at the top of an embankment that dropped a good two hundred feet down to the creek. “She was either speeding or had help for this much damage to the rail.”

  “Consensus is she had help. Definitely forced off the road.” He pointed to a massive oak halfway down. “Lucky for her. If it wasn’t for the tree, she would have been in the water.”

  “Damn. Where’s the closest traffic camera?”

  “A mile back toward Spring Falls. She first noticed the van right after leaving the friend’s place. We’re pulling the video now.”

  I glanced back at the road, the turn, and the angle of the approach to the guardrail. “If you were going to force someone off the road, this would be the spot to do it. No place to go but down. Yeah, this was deliberate.”

  “I agree. I’ll call you if the video comes back with anything. With any luck, we’ll get a hit on the van.”

  “Bridges, I appreciate you allowing me a look out here.”

  “Hey, you’re still one of us.”

  We shook hands and I got back in my car and turned toward town. My client was forced off the road. Why? To kill her? Who gains? The husband, the mistress? Why not divorce her, pay her off, and shove her out of the way so he and Blondie can live happily ever after? Instead, he risks a murder rap? Doesn’t make sense. Bellamy brought his employee/girlfriend with him to the hospital when visiting his wife. An arrogant bastard? Yes. A murderer? No. Mary Ann had it right: this was not a typical case and I had to admit, I was now intrigued, and bothered, at the same time. In my short time knowing the lovely Mrs. Bellamy, I liked her and I did not like seeing her hurt, either emotionally or physically.

  Nevertheless, someone pushed her off the road. Who and why?

  ***

  Katie was behind the bar when I got back to McNally’s. The lunch crowd began to file in and I told her to join me at my booth when she had a second.

  Mike lumbered over with two draft beers and slid into the booth. “So?”

  “Somebody rammed her off the road, the husband is a world-class bastard, and my case ramped up to interesting.”

  “The cheating spouse case is now attempted murder?”

  “Accident investigation was on the scene. Skid marks confirmed two vehicles. Forced her through the guardrail.”

  “She hurt?”

  “Banged up. She’ll be fine. Doesn’t want to go home. Swears the girlfriend put it all in motion.”

  “What about you?”

  “Way too early to make that call.” I gulped down half my beer. “My favorite kind of case, though. Beautiful, pretentious people, lots of money, high drama, handsome retainer.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Here’s the fun part. The husband brought the blonde to the hospital last night when he visited his wife.”

  “Damn. Huge balls there. The wife know?”

  “No. Thought it best not to say anything.”

  “Wait—the husband is a defense contractor, right?” He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “He was the target. He was supposed to be in the car. Find out who has a beef with him.” Mike downed his beer and got up. “You can thank me later.”

  Katie made her way to my booth and I filled in the details of what happened with our new client.

  She slammed her palm on the table. “Shut up!”

  “It’s true.”

  “That nice Mrs. Bellamy got run off the road and the husband brings his girlfriend to the hospital with him?”

  “Alleged girlfriend…”

  “Whatever—the bastard.” She got up from the booth. “Wow, I don’t believe it.” She paced around in a circle and then sat back down. “The dude wants her dead and out of the way. That scum. Now what do we do?”

  “What she hired us to do. Secure evidence of their affair. Alleged affair.”

  “Figures, I’m going on vacation and we get a hot one.”

  “Cancel. Go later.”

  “No way. Mandy would kill me. What did the police say?”

  “Evidence of two vehicles. Investigation ongoing, pulling all video footage in the area. You can go on vacation anytime. The Bellamys have me curious and I might need a second set of eyes on this one.”

  “Johnny, don’t do this to me.” She folded her arms on the table, put her head down and talked into the table. “We’ve been planning it for weeks. Sun, beach, frozen drinks, gorgeous half-naked men. I cannot cancel on Mandy at this late date. We leave in three days.”

  “All right. Just asking. Want to do some surveillance work this evening?”

  The ice-blue eyes peeked up at me. “You have to ask?”

  9

  Mary Ann Bellamy called to tell me the doctor discharged her from St. Helen’s and she was on her way to Brynne’s home in Spring Falls. She gave me the address and asked if I would stop by. I made the half-hour trip and had no problem finding the Middleton house. A Tudor style mini-mansion, it sat at the end of a long tree-lined driveway. A royal-blue BMW 750 sparkled in front of a three-car garage.

  I rang the bell and waited a few minutes. No answer. I pressed it again and instinctively touched my jacket to make sure my Beretta was in place. Another minute passed and I decided to check the back of the house. A green chain-link fence bordered at least a half-acre of a patio and pool area. The gate pushed open and it was as if I checked in to a posh Caribbean resort.

  A roof provided shade for half the patio. Two tables with umbrellas and chairs sat in the sun. An outdoor wet bar, a brick pizza oven, and a stainless-steel gas grill were adjacent on a smaller flagstone area. Eight lounge chairs with red cushions, and each with a side table, were arranged around the Olympic-size pool. At the far end of the pool was a white guesthouse, and beyond that, through a group of tall arbor vitae trees, was a tennis court. Perfectly manicured plants, shrubbery, and flowers hid the fence around the entire perimeter. All I needed was Paco the cabana boy to come and take my drink order.

  Mary Ann and the comely Brynne Middleton were nowhere in sight. Under the shade of the patio roof, two French doors opened into the house. I knocked again, and after a minute, I did pull my gun. I called Mary Ann’s phone and it went to voice mail. I found Brynne’s number and pressed call back. No answer.

  The doors were unlocked. I was about to take a step into the house when I heard voices behind me. I turned and saw Mary Ann and Brynne coming out of the guesthouse. I holstered my gun and pulled the door closed. Brynne had her arm around Mary Ann as they chatted and slowly made their way to the patio. Mary Ann had on white shorts and a pink polo top; Brynne wore a short, yellow sundress that ended halfway down her long thighs and accentuated her shapely legs. They spotted me on the patio.

  Mary Ann waved. “Johnny.”

  “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

  They greeted me with hugs.

>   “Don’t worry, my nurse here is quite strict. I had to talk her into showing me the new guest-house.”

  “For guests I never have.” Brynne pulled a lounge chair next to a table. Mary Ann winced as we gingerly helped her lie down. I took a seat at the table. “How about a drink? Ice tea for the patient, she’s on meds, but I’m thinking gin and tonic for us?”

  “I like the way you think.”

  “Be right back.”

  Brynne went into the house and I turned my chair to face Mary Ann. “How are you?”

  “Frightened. I know they did it. Arranged it.”

  “Horrible what happened, but it’s a big leap to make those accusations. We need to find evidence of any involvement.”

  “I don’t need evidence. He wants me gone. That hurts more than my ribs. He treats me terrible. If I am out of the way, no alimony, and he gets Keira.”

  “Mary Ann, you’ve been with him a long time. You know him better than anybody does. Is he a person who is capable of murder? Reach deep in your soul and think. Was this something he could do?”

  She got quiet for a moment. “No, he’s not. He’s a rocket scientist, for God’s sake. A brainiac, a nerd. Suddenly, he’s some passionate lover? She has him brainwashed. I’m convinced. I guess she does things to him that I never did.” She closed her eyes.

  “Does Tom know you are here?”

  “No, but he’ll figure I’m with Brynne. He called my phone six times today but I didn’t answer.”

  Brynne came out with the drinks. We toasted to Mary Ann getting better and a new life, to which she responded she was content with the old life.

  I tried to spin it positive. “Concentrate on healing those ribs. I’ll do what I can so we hand Jim Rosswell a solid case.”

  “Johnny, physically, I’ll be fine, but emotionally I’m not. I am scared. I need protection. I’m lucky to be here today. The divorce can come later. Somebody rammed me off the road last night. It was no accident. She had me followed and tried to kill me….”

  Brynne chimed in. “She’s right. There’s no other explanation.”

  “There can be other explanations. Mistaken identity,” I offered.

  “We all know that is not true.” Brynne sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, allowing the dress to slide high on her leg. She caught me looking but I moved on.

  “Mary Ann, my advice is to stay here for now. Let me continue my investigation. If I find anything that suggests Tom or the woman is responsible for last night, we will bring in the police. Plus, they have their own investigation. I want you to trust me.”

  “I am trusting you. I realize we just met, but I feel safe with you on my side.”

  “Get better.” I took a gulp of my drink. “Brynne, you make a great gin and tonic, thank you.” I set the glass on the table and stood. I took Mary Ann’s hand in mine. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

  Brynne got up. “I’ll walk you out.”

  We walked around the house to my car. “Beautiful home. You live here by yourself?”

  “Yep. There was a Dr. Middleton. He had the largest cardiology practice in Port City. At one point, they performed ten heart catheterizations a day. Then one day he stuck his catheter where he shouldn’t. Now he is a fifty-six-year-old man with a three-year-old son and a thirty-three-year-old wife who is thirty pounds overweight. And I have this and two daughters away at college.”

  “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  “I’m over it. Sort of. You?”

  She was fun and funny but I had a feeling she could be fierce. “Divorced. Long time. Being a cop and being married didn’t work for us.”

  “I get it.” She put her arms around me in a tight hug. “When this is over.” She let go. “Stop by anytime.”

  I opened my car door and smiled. “Might take you up on that, Brynne. Meanwhile, stay inside, keep the doors locked, and answer your phone.”

  “Yes sir.”

  I backed out of her driveway, watching the yellow skirt flit up and down as she walked around the house.

  Steer clear, Delarosa. Steer clear.

  10

  My handheld rangefinder indicated we were two hundred and fifty yards from the front entrance of Bellamy Space Technologies. We found a spot in an empty warehouse parking lot on the opposite side of the road. I drove my surveillance vehicle—my eleven-year-old nondescript, tan, Buick LeSabre—in an attempt to be somewhat inconspicuous. Katie was tired of me constantly teaching her she must learn to be invisible to be an effective private investigator, but if the subject knows you are watching, you will never see anything.

  Katie snapped a 300mm telephoto lens on the Nikon and focused on the front gate. I used the binoculars and scanned the building’s parking lot. I spotted Bellamy’s green Range Rover and Keira’s Mercedes.

  It was our second hour of surveillance.

  “I can’t hold this camera like this forever.”

  “It’s not heavy.”

  “Not for you. The lens is heavy.”

  I got out of the car and opened the trunk. In addition to my briefcase of gadgets, I kept an assortment of old clothes I used for the occasional disguise. I grabbed a sweatshirt and back in the car, we used it to fashion a soft cradle on the dashboard for the lens.

  “Happy?”

  “Much better.”

  Thirty minutes went by with no activity. It was after six in the afternoon and I hoped Bellamy was getting close to quitting time. Katie put the camera in her lap, reached in the back and pulled a bottle of water from our cooler.

  “That’s your second bottle of water and you had a soda earlier.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “We could be here for quite a while.” I was not about to move this car after investing two hours. “You have to account for everything when on surveillance. Your surroundings. Will the cops spot you? Will someone else see you and call the cops? Somebody might think you are stalking someone. Are you close to a school? Last thing you need is someone thinking you are watching kids on a playground. And your food and drink consumption.”

  “I understand. I am a good student. I’ll be fine.”

  Forty-five minutes passed.

  Most of the employees had gone for the evening, leaving both Bellamy’s car and Keira’s car now clear in our sights. It would be impossible to miss them exiting the lot, except it was late in the day and we were now looking directly into the sinking sun. The light flares in the lens would block our vision and we would not pick them up until they reached the front gate, and I wanted to be ready and pull in position so I could fall in behind him as he left.

  “C’mon Bellamy. Time to go home.”

  “Johnny?”

  “Huh?”

  “You don’t want to hear this, but I need a bathroom.”

  I kept the binoculars to my eyes. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say anything.”

  She huffed and squirmed around on the seat. “I guess some things are easier for guys.”

  I nodded toward two small saplings in a grassy area near our spot. “Trees?”

  “Funny. I wouldn’t do that even if it was a gigantic bush.”

  “Too late. Bellamy and the blonde.” I put the binoculars down and started the car. “You have them?”

  “Yep. Bellamy is getting into his car and she is going to hers.”

  “Keep on him for now.” I stopped the Buick at the edge of the lot. “As soon as he goes through the gate, I’ll go.”

  The Range Rover passed through the security shack and turned away from us on the business park drive. I got lucky and pulled out without having to wait for traffic. We fell in fifty yards behind Bellamy.

  “Did you take pictures?”

  “What?”

  “Pictures. Did you take any?”

  “Of him pulling out?”

  “Yes. The camera has time and date. Plus Wi-Fi. We can email ourselves the pictures and it establishes a timeline.”

  “I didn’t…”

 
“Mark in your notebook he left work at six fifty-five.” She made notes while we stopped at an intersection. The light changed, Bellamy turned, and we followed. I hung back and put two cars between us. A quarter of a mile later, he took the exit for the interstate. He punched the Range Rover and shot over to the far left lane. I stayed in the middle and a good ten car lengths behind. He would have to move right when it was time to get off, but a mile later, he passed the North Shore exit.

  “He’s not going home, is he?” Katie read his address from her notes.

  “I hope not, for our sake. We need them to show up together somewhere. We take a few pics of them being cozy, and we put this case to bed. So to speak. Then we collect a fat payday and you go on your vacation.”

  “We need to get to somewhere fast. I can’t hold it much longer.”

  Bellamy took the exit for downtown. “Hang in there. Keira lives in the city, right?”

  Katie flipped a page in her notebook. “All we have is her car registration address. Ninth Avenue.”

  “Perfect. With any luck, we’re going to Blondie’s.”

  11

  Bellamy did not go to Keira’s home. He led us three blocks past Ninth Avenue to a neighborhood bar called, the Dark Side. He parked in an adjacent lot. We pulled to the curb and waited until he went in, then we drove in. From my spare clothes box in the trunk, I put on a pair of clear-lens, black-framed glasses, a ball cap, and an old jacket. I opened my attaché case, removed two portable GPS transmitters, and handed them to Katie.

  “You know what to do?”

  She nodded.

  I took a silver ballpoint pen from my case and slipped it in my jacket pocket. “See you inside.” Katie remained at the car with instructions and a full bladder.

  The Dark Side was a narrow, rectangular space with no more than forty seats total. I took a seat at the bar that ran the length of one wall. The opposite wall had a row of two-seater high-tops. A few tables were in front and Bellamy had the corner table, thirty feet from me. A martini was on his table and he typed away on his cell phone.