by Ann Simas
She blinked at him.
He winked back at her.
Andi almost fell afoul of her common sense to ask, Did he ever talk to you about hiring someone to kill his wife?
Chapter 5
Andi spent the afternoon working on Bunnicula. Clem Naylor, for whatever reason, stayed away.
She kept at her coding until just past six, when her phone belted out the Cops theme. She considered not answering it, but why deprive herself of a conversation with Jack just because she was on pins and needles waiting for Clem to get into her head again? “Hi.”
“Hi, back. Are you at home?”
“No, still at my desk.”
“Darn! I was thinking we could have some phone sex.”
“Jack!”
He laughed.
Andi felt a shiver of excitement course through her at the possibilities, but quickly shook it off. “Did you make it over to Field of Dreams?”
“Yeah, I did. It was more interesting than I thought it would be. I’d like to come back sometime in the summer, on a Sunday. The ghosts show up and play ball.”
“Cool. That sounds like fun. We should do it.” She hesitated. “That is, if you want me along.”
“Can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with.”
Warm tinglies surged through her. “Was it an all-day trip?”
“Nah, I spent the afternoon tagging along on a murder investigation.”
“You can take the boy out of the EPD, but you can’t take the EPD out of the boy.”
He laughed again. “How was your afternoon?”
“Okay. I took a long lunch and drove by the Naylor house and before you start yelling at me, all I did was look. I didn’t go up to the door and knock.”
His silence told her he was debating which response would be the right one to dole out to her.
She continued before he could decide. “Afterward, I stopped by Vaughn’s. He was home babysitting because Dotty had to see a doctor about her knees. She may have to have surgery.”
“I hope not, but if she does, at least these days, the recovery time is shorter. How’s Vaughn doing? We haven’t seen him since Christmas.”
“He’s doing well. He seems to be a lot more organized and in control now. He’s always going to miss Sherry, but he’s learning how to live without her.”
“That’s good.”
“My brother invited him for the Super Bowl party, so you can catch up with him then.”
“I thought they only met once, at the Christmas party.”
“I guess they got to talking about remodeling. You know those firefighters. Whenever they’re off duty, they’re doing some kind of carpentry or other. Dell discovered that Vaughn wants to add an outbuilding on his property for a home office, so he can work away from the kids, but still be close to home.” She added a little facetiously, “My brother is now an expert on home construction, you know, since he built his house.”
Jack chuckled. “I do know that. He’s been trying to talk me into building one so he can come help with it.”
“He needs to find a wife so he doesn’t have so much free time,” Andi said.
“You don’t have to have a wife to occupy your spare time,” Jack responded. “A girlfriend will do just as well.”
“You should know.” Andi had a different opinion on the subject, but she kept it to herself. Yeah, she’d thought about a long-term relationship with Jack, as in married to Jack, but he’d never given any indication that it was on his bucket list, so she sure as heck wasn’t going to bring it up. Besides, things were going well between them. Why rock the boat?
“Did you hear from your Smokie today?”
“Nope. No Clem, no Smokie whatsoever.” Should she tell him what Vaughn had to say about Clem, or save it until he returned?
“I gave the LT a heads-up that you might be contacting her on a possible case.”
“Good to know. I’m hoping Clem talks to me again tomorrow. I have this horrible feeling that time is running out for Denise.”
“Don’t go getting yourself all riled up about it. Until you know all the facts, you can’t do anything about it, nor should you.”
“Yeah, but if I knew—”
“Andi, stop! You don’t even know how far along in the process he was.”
“His exact words were, ‘I hired someone to kill her.’ I’d say that pretty much tells me exactly where he was in the process.”
Jack’s huge sigh of either impatience or capitulation traveled over the line and left her wondering what would come out of his mouth next.
She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“That’s one of the things I love most about you, Andi. You have a fine brain and you know how to use it.” He paused a moment, then continued. “You also have common sense and I hope to hell you’ll remember to utilize it when Clem speaks to you again.”
Stuck on Jack using the word love in a sentence that pertained to her, she almost missed the lecture he’d imparted in the next breath. “I’m not twelve, Jack. You don’t have to scold me about using my common sense.”
“I know that, babe, but sometimes I just think you forget you have common sense. You get caught up in the moment or something and it goes out the window.”
“You should have stopped while you were ahead, Jack. I need to go.”
“Andi, wait—”
“I can’t. Someone’s here and it’s not someone who’s living.”
. . .
I did something bad, Andi, and I don’t know how to fix it.
“I can help you, Clem, if you’ll let me.”
How? I don’t even know the name of the person I hired.
Andi felt like screaming. How could he not know who he hired? “Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? Once you decided to hire a hit man to kill your wife, how did you find someone to do it?”
It’s so damned simple. You go on the Internet to a hitman site. He listed the URL and the steps he followed with rapid-fire delivery. You email them your details. In return, you get instructions on how to access their secure online forms. They find you a killer, based on your needs. You agree to the amount they charge, which includes expenses. You give them a down payment. You agree to make the final payment within seventy-two hours of the hit. You choose how you want it done, and when. Or you can be surprised.
Andi almost fell out of her chair. She’d spent hours looking up contract killers and never found the website he was talking about. “How did you even locate such a web page?” Had someone told him about it? Someone who’d used it?
I read about it on the FBI website.
“What?”
Well, not this exact website. That was HitmanForHire.net and it’s no longer up on the ’net, but it gave me the idea to plug in different, similar URLs and I found it that way.
“You’re kidding!”
I wish I was. I wish all of this was one big joke or a really bad dream, but it’s not. I paid someone I’ve never met a ten-thousand-dollar retainer, with a promise to pay another forty-K when the job was done. All I know from there is that he—or she—intends to kill Denise, but I don’t know exactly when.
Goosebumps skittered up Andi’s arms. “How long since you made these arrangements?”
A few weeks ago. Denise was MIA one time too many and I was sick of it. His voice broke. Why didn’t I just ask her where she was going, and what she was doing?
Hindsight was a heckuva of a teacher. Andi planned to remember this lesson in communication, vicariously, forever. “Whoever you hired never gave you a name?”
He—I’ll stick to the masculine pronoun, okay?—calls himself The Liquidator. Apropos, don’t you think?
“In a sick sort of way. Did he give you any indication of where he might be from, or where he lives?”
No, he told me he had several other jobs to take care of before he could do mine. One I gathered must be in Florida, because he mentioned that he’d be ‘catching some rays in the Sunshine state.’ One
or more of the others must be out-of-country, since he also mentioned that he was anxious to get away from all the political bullshit for a while. He didn’t give any more details than that.
“Do you know which order his trips were in?”
No, but I got the impression Florida was first.
“He may not be going further than the Caribbean or Cuba, or even Mexico or Venezuela for the others.”
You may be on to something. He said hasta la vista in his last communiqué to me. Doesn’t that mean ‘see you’ or ‘so long’ or something like that?
Andi hadn’t taken Spanish in school, but she did know a few words. “Yeah, but that could even mean he was going to Spain.” She looked down at her notes. “He didn’t give you any indication at all about his timing?”
None.
“Tell me about the website. How’s it organized?”
I’ve never been on a dating site, but I imagine the hit-man site is set up like that, only without pictures. There’s a little bio that tells how many kills each hitman has. It says who they will and won’t kill and a range of how much they charge for what.
“So, some of them are amenable to killing women and children?”
If silence could have a startled pause, his did. Why are you asking about children?
“If you hired someone to kill Denise, and she’s the primary caregiver for your two kids, especially now that you’re gone, when is she without them? Only during school hours, right? What if he tries to hit her on the weekend, or in the evening? What if they’re at home to witness the killing?”
I don’t understand! Why are you bringing the kids into this? I didn’t hire him to kill my children.
Andi knew her words were harsh. She knew he felt remorse for his actions. But so what? He had put not only his wife, but his children in danger from a psychopath who killed for money. “If your kids get in the way, or if he thinks they can identify him, do you honestly think he’ll let them live?”
But I never gave him permission to kill Aria and Christian!
“If you didn’t discuss when he’s going to make the hit, it’ll be a crapshoot, won’t it? Where were you going to be when it all goes down?”
I gave him some times when I’d be otherwise engaged.
Andi threw up her hands in disgust. “Oh, for God’s sake, why didn’t you say so? Give me the dates and times you stipulated.” She wrote as fast as he talked. The list began with a date the following week and went into February. It included lunch meetings and several weekend events, along with four evening engagements. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. The hit will occur sometime between next Wednesday and the eighth of February.”
That’s right and if he doesn’t complete the job as promised, through no fault of his own, the contract is automatically cancelled on February ninth and I don’t have to pay the balance owing.
That condition took Andi aback. She made a note to ask him about it later. “More than half the times you stipulated, your wife will be home with the children.”
You’re right! Oh, dear God, what have I done?
He said nothing more for an ominous few seconds, then, It’s a ten-day window, so we still have time. Andi, you need to warn Denise. She needs to know.
“Don’t worry. Denise is going to be safe, and so will your children.”
How can you make promises like that?
“Trust me, I can, and I have a small of army of people I trust who will help me make sure.” She tapped her pen against the journal page. “I’d like to take a look at the website. Will you give me your password?”
He rattled it off, though he sounded distracted doing it. She repeated it back to him and asked, “Is that correct?”
Yes.
Andi had more questions swirling around in her brain, but before she could ask them, the scent of smoke evaporated.
Clem Naylor had gone.
She would have liked nothing more than to follow him to wherever he vanished to and smack the crap out of him for being so damned stupid.
Chapter 6
Andi didn’t like using her work computer for personal business, but this was an extenuating circumstance. She needed to organize the notes she’d taken while talking to Clem and then she needed a confab with Father Riley. ASAP.
While she rebooted her Mac, she reread the conversation she’d recorded in her journal and made a separate entry for the list of times and dates the killer had been given.
With a speed born of writing code, practically with her eyes closed, she compiled her notes in a format that she could share with Riley and Jack. And Lt. Lowry, because it was obvious now that she couldn’t wait for Jack to return to accomplish something.
She sent the document to the printer, requesting four copies, then hurried out to the common area to retrieve the pages. After a quick review to make sure everything looked good, she saved the file as CLEM1 to a thumb drive she pulled from her purse. She hit Control-A, which marked all the text, and deleted it, leaving no record of it on her computer. Once she logged out, she pilfered a manila envelope from the recycle box and shoved the stapled copies inside.
Next she dialed Father Riley. “I need to see you as soon as possible.”
He didn’t waste time asking what was wrong. “Come over now. The deacons are meeting, but they’re about to break up.”
“Are they in the rectory?”
“Yes.”
“I may stop and pray for a moment in the church, then. I feel the need for some divine guidance.”
“You’ll be in the right place,” Riley said.
Since it was so late, Andi drove over and found a parking spot at the curb. One of the deacons left the rectory and climbed into the car ahead of her. She locked up and hustled down to the other end of the block to go into the church. Father Riley left it unlocked until 7:00 pm, so she had less than five minutes to talk to God.
At seven sharp, the priest entered the apse through a side door that fed in from the ambulatory between the church and the rectory. He made his way to the narthex and locked the double doors, then came back and sat quietly next to Andi, who was still on the kneeler. A moment later, she said a silent amen and crossed herself before she slid back in the pew.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Not really, but then I know prayers aren’t answered instantly.”
“It’s good you recognize that.”
She turned tortured eyes on him. “I don’t know whether to be scared or angry or frustrated or what after everything Clem told me. I do know I feel completely helpless.”
“Let’s go have a nice hot cider to warm our bones, and maybe something to eat. We’ll get it figured out.”
“God, I hope so, Riley, because the windows of opportunity Naylor gave the killer are almost all times when Denise is home with her kids.”
. . .
Andi wasn’t sure she could hold anything down, but Riley forced a roast beef sandwich on her anyway. She managed to eat half of it. He wrapped up the other half for her to take home.
She had a chill that wouldn’t abate, even with her hands wrapped around the mug he’d filled with hot cider. She took a sip, hoping to warm her insides. Instead, she scalded her mouth.
The priest cleared away the dishes and took the brown envelope Andi handed him. He pulled out one set of papers and began to read. “Oh, dear,” he said when he’d finished.
“Exactly,” she said. “Now you see why I’m so upset. Jack won’t be back until Sunday. I need to see Stacy Lowry right away.”
“You have her phone number,” Riley reminded her. “Call her.”
Andi put down her mug and mimed an I-could’ve-had-a-V8 moment before she reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She scrolled until she found the LT’s number. She hit SEND and put the phone on speaker. “Hi, Stacy. It’s Andi Comstock.”
“Andi, hi. I was just thinking about you.”
“You were?”
“Yes, when Jack checked in, he mentioned that I might b
e hearing from you. What’s up?”
“I’ve had a visit from a Smokie who put out a contract on his wife and now that he’s dead, he’s discovered that she wasn’t really having an affair, but he has no way to stop the contract.”
“Shit a brick,” Stacy said after a pregnant pause.
“My thoughts exactly. I need to see you as soon as possible. He gave me more information just a while ago and I’m afraid time is of the essence.”
“Where are you?”
“At St. Gemma’s rectory, discussing options with Father Riley. He encouraged me not to wait until tomorrow to contact you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. Look, I’m still at the office, but I was just getting ready to leave. What if I join you there? I may stop along the way and get something at a drive-thru.”
Father Riley shook his head vigorously and pointed at the refrigerator.
“Father Riley says he’ll feed you. He makes a pretty good roast beef sandwich.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll be there soon.” She confirmed the location and signed off.
The priest stood and moved toward the fridge. “She’ll help us get this figured out.”
“I hope so, because it’s all looking pretty grim right about now.”
. . .
Lt. Anastasia Lowry, known as LT to her staff and Stacy to her friends, read through her copy of Andi’s notes. When she finished, she looked first at Father Riley, then at Andi. Her expression reflected some inner turmoil
“What?” Andi asked.
“You don’t name names.”
Andi hadn’t consciously omitted them, but when Stacy pointed it out, she realized she’d used Smokie for Clem, she for Denise, and hitman for the contract killer.
“This is Clem Naylor, isn’t it? And his wife, Denise.”
Andi’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“I attended his memorial service on Tuesday. His wife and my sister are best friends.”
“Oh, my,” said Father Riley. He shot a questioning glance at Andi, then asked Stacy, “Does that mean you have to recuse yourself from the case?”