Hush Money

by T. E. Woods

  Sydney shook her head. She was particular about whom she allowed in her high-rise haven, and Andrew Conyer was not part of that inner circle. She tried to envision him and his self-important wife dropping by for wine and canapés and decided it was highly unlikely either one of them would ever see the inside of her condo. She glanced at the clock over her fireplace.

  “I’ll meet you at Hush Money. Give me twenty minutes. Wait at the front door. Everyone will be gone by the time you get there. I’ll let you in.”

  “I promise this won’t take long.”

  —

  He was standing at the front door when she jogged up.

  “What’s with the helmet?” she asked as she pulled out her keys and opened the door.

  “I told you. I ride when I can. The weather’s been great.”

  “That might have been okay this morning. But now? In the dark? Aren’t you afraid somebody’s going to make a wrong turn and splat you onto the curb?”

  Andrew tapped the brain bucket tucked under his arm. “That’s what this is for. Besides, I’ve got reflector strips. And most of my commute is on dedicated bike paths.”

  They stepped into the now-empty dining room and Sydney locked the door behind them. She led the way back to her office, clicking on the kitchen light as they passed.

  “You want some coffee? Water?” she asked. “I won’t offer you anything stronger if you’re going to be pedaling the streets.”

  He grinned. “I’m good.”

  Sydney sat behind her desk and offered him the chair across from her. He opted to stand.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “I think we should go in aggressive. Indignant. Demand all charges be dropped. Self-defense. We play up Millerman’s abuse—long, demeaning, continuous. We say Windy finally had no choice but to protect herself. She’s a woman alone in the world. No one else could save her. Especially not from the most powerful man in the city. She had no choice but to take the measures she believed were the only way to stop him.”

  “Windy wouldn’t have to spend any time behind bars? At all?”

  “I’m confident I can sell it. Of course, that means Windy’s got to go along with it.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning there can be no more discussion about her not remembering anything. No more speculation on your part about how she might have been conked on the head by some mysterious other killer. We can’t have the waters muddied. Self-defense means just that. If this is going to work, we have to convince the prosecutor it was one-on-one. The powerful, immoral, obnoxious mayor against the weak, innocent, abandoned young single mother.”

  “I don’t know if she’ll do that. For the rest of her life people will think she shot Millerman. Kids will tell Gabby her mother is a killer.”

  “Kids are going to say that anyway. At least until they have something else to talk about. It’s your job to convince Windy it’s better Gabby hear it when she can come home and be soothed by her mother than when her mother’s rotting away in some dark Taycheedah prison cell.”

  Sydney wondered if she had the right to ask Windy to consider such a ruse. Windy didn’t remember anything. Could she ask her to lie and say she did? The young woman had so little. Dare she suggest that Windy sacrifice her integrity?

  But isn’t she the kind of mother who would sacrifice anything to keep and protect her child?

  “You’re confident you can convince the prosecutor?”

  “I’d bet money on it. Lots. Besides, between you, me, and the dinner plate, the prosecutor’s a bit of an anti-Semite. I’ve heard her make more than a few derogatory statements about Jews. One particularly ugly slur directed at the mayor himself. I’m sure I wouldn’t have to work up a sweat to convince her Millerman needed killing.”

  Sydney gasped.

  Gregory Street. Old Iron Guts. Tay-Sachs. “That son of a bitch was going to divorce me.” Engagement ring. “Why would my husband discuss my pregnancy with you?” “Did the mayor mention a lover?”

  “We’ve got to close this up fast, Sydney. Windy agrees to drop her amnesia story. You never again say there might have been someone else in the room. She swears it was self-defense. This case gets closed. She goes home to her kid. Life goes on.”

  “I’ll talk to Windy”—Sydney prayed her voice sounded stronger than her own ears suggested—“first thing in the morning. She comes in around nine-thirty.”

  “Call her. Get her here now. Tonight. We’ll lay out our plan for her.”

  “No!” She regretted her volume and lowered it instantly. “It’s late. She and Gabby are surely in bed. Besides, wouldn’t it be more effective if it was just her and me? Woman to woman? Maybe she’ll tell me some more things the mayor forced her to do. Intimate things she might not be eager to share with a man present.”

  Andrew studied her. He cocked his head to the side. The confidence that had been so visible in his eyes a few moments earlier was replaced with a new curiosity.

  “You’re holding something back.”

  She shook her head and forced a smile. “Nothing. I’m just tired. Between hospitals and murder cases and two businesses to run…I guess it’s all catching up with me.” She tried to sound playful. “Not to mention someone taking a shot at me.”

  His curiosity morphed into something darker. Not sinister. More like a sad acceptance of a truth he’d rather not face.

  “But he missed you. That’s good news, right?”

  “Let’s call it a night, Andrew. I’ll bring Windy to your office as soon as I’ve convinced her pleading guilty is the only way for a mother to go. Trust me. I’ll make her see things our way.”

  Andrew put his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker.

  “You’re a terrible salesman, Syd. You’ll never be able to do it.”

  “You’d be surprised what a couple of women can do when they put their minds to it. Especially if there’s a child involved.”

  “I’m well aware what women will do to save their children.”

  “It’s late, Andrew. Let’s just go home.”

  He shook his head. “You’re no good at this.”

  Their stillness announced a mutual recognition that the time for posing was over. Sydney dared not reach for the cellphone in her pocket. She saw the determination in his eyes. He was a man who was locked on a course and clear about what his next move needed to be.

  “There’s a way out of this, Andrew.” She didn’t try to hide the desperation she felt for herself, for Gabby, and for Ronnie. “Like you said, the prosecutor recognizes how vile Millerman was. She’ll understand you had no other choice.”

  “You don’t know.” His cold gaze locked with hers. “You don’t know.”

  “But I’m beginning to. Maybe you’re not as good at being the brave soldier as you felt you needed to be. But there were clues. If I’d been paying attention, I could have reached out to you sooner. Let you know you weren’t alone. You’ve been in so much pain. The betrayal must be devastating.”

  “You don’t have a clue.”

  “No? Let me tell you what’s coming together in my mind now…what I should have recognized earlier. Remember when you learned Ronnie was my best friend?”

  “Dr. Pernod. Yes.”

  “We joked about the painting of Old Iron Guts. How it spooked the patients. What I failed to remember was that Ronnie’s been out of that office more than a year. Your wife’s been pregnant less than three months. The only way you’d have been in her old place was if you’d been in treatment for some time. Infertility treatments. When Cynthia became pregnant, you knew you weren’t the father. I can only imagine how that crushed you. How did you learn it was Roger Millerman?”

  “She told me. ‘I’m finally pregnant. Roger’s the father.’ No denial. No soft-pedaling. Why should she? She was leaving me. Said Millerman was as thrilled as she was. They were going to live happily ever after.” His grimace was the face of pure evil. “Cynthia is my wife. She belongs to me.”

&
nbsp; “So you shot him. It’s simple. Effective. Pragmatic. But then things got complicated.”

  “I didn’t know Windy was coming.”

  “And you couldn’t kill her because you’re not a coldhearted murderer. With Millerman you eliminated your pain. Windy had caused you none.”

  “Don’t be so romantic, Sydney. I was out of bullets. If I’d had just one more, this would have ended that night.”

  “But as it turned out, Windy’s presence was a gift, wasn’t it? She was the perfect suspect. The police certainly thought so. Windy goes to prison and you and Cynthia go on with your marriage. But then came other complications. Like the medallion. Why’d you take it?”

  “I needed Cynthia to know I killed Millerman. Me. Not some mysterious assailant who martyred him for political reasons. The thought of her playing Jackie Kennedy to the slain public servant turned my stomach. I removed the threat to our marriage. She needed to respect me. To know I was capable of defending my home. My family. Millerman loved that little trinket. It got trotted out at every cocktail party I was forced to attend at his place. So I brought it home. Cynthia believed me when I showed it to her.”

  “Then you came to Hush Money’s grand opening like nothing happened.”

  “No one could know.”

  “Cynthia had the medallion in her purse, didn’t she? You came in the next night looking for her yellow evening bag. The purse must have opened in the jostling of that stuck drawer. The medallion slipped out, fell to the floor. That’s why you were so insistent on knowing which server found it. You were afraid they could connect it to you or Cynthia. The same way you pressed Windy to make sure she hadn’t seen anyone else at Millerman’s home. You even pressed me when I told you I’d been to Phoebe’s and that we’d gone through the mayor’s safe and she’d given me the tapes. I told you she was upset to learn Roger was planning on leaving her. Your first reaction was to ask if she knew why. You needed to know if he’d mentioned a lover.”

  “What’s mine is mine! Millerman had no right to challenge that.” He stood free from the wall and pulled his hands out of his pockets. She saw the revolver in his right hand. “Neither do you.”

  He aimed straight at her.

  She used her legs to push up and out of her chair, down to the floor. She heard the bullet crash into the glass cabinet behind her desk. She scurried to the far corner on pure reflex, not realizing the move was fatal. Two walls penned her in. She looked up to see Andrew silhouetted in the doorway. She drew her knees to her torso, instinctively prepared to sacrifice a leg in an attempt to protect her vital organs.

  He fired again. Sydney rolled toward him. Her leg caught the wheel of her desk chair. Instinctively she kicked it toward her assailant. Andrew stumbled, falling back against the wall. Adrenaline pounded through her body as she scrambled out the door.

  Another shot rang out. She felt a searing sting in her left leg. She accelerated against the pain, making it to the darkened dining room. She rolled to her left, putting a wall between her and Andrew.

  “You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Sydney.” Each of his footsteps was louder than the last. “There’s only one way this can end.”

  Sydney stayed low. She crawled between tables two and three. The most direct line to the bar.

  Twenty feet of solid maple. A phone. I can make it.

  She knew Hush Money like the back of her hand. Andrew would have to make his way through unfamiliar territory. Navigate in the dark around tables and chairs.

  If he shoots in here, people will hear him. Help will come.

  “Give it up, Sydney.” His voice was farther away now.

  He’s in the dining room. He expected me to head for the front door.

  She brought herself into a crouch, staying low enough to avoid making any shadow in the light from the street. She made it to the long maple structure and flattened herself behind the bar. She ran her hands along the shelf.

  Where is it? The phone is supposed to be right here. In the corner.

  She reached deeper, feeling the stacks of towels and trays she knew held drink garnishes.

  Damn it! Where is it?

  She inched to her left, praying her fingers would feel the bulky body of the bar’s phone. Something sharp caught the side of her wrist. Reflexively she jerked her hand clear, sending several glasses crashing to the floor.

  The sound was answered by two shots fired in rapid succession.

  She heard footsteps approach. He was in no hurry.

  He knows I’m trapped.

  She glanced outside Hush Money’s wide windows. A dark sedan made its way down the street.

  C’mon! Somebody! Surely you heard that!

  “Come out, Sydney. This game is getting tiresome.”

  He sounded no more than five feet away. She inched her way down the bar. Away from the sound of his voice.

  A wall stopped her.

  “Now, Sydney! Show yourself!”

  She was cornered by two walls. The bar was to her right, separating her from the ever-nearing Andrew. She reached out her hands, hoping to find the space where the bar opened to the room.

  Then she felt it. She wrapped her hand around one end, sending her other hand up the shaft as though verifying the object’s identity.

  Yes!

  She pulled the Louisville Slugger across her body as she brought her legs under her. She crouched, keeping her weight balanced, her feet flat, and her eyes on the area above the bar.

  Three seconds later she saw his shadowy form looming above to her right. With a loud grunt of effort, she leaped up and swung the bat at the silhouette with the gun.

  The bat caught nothing but air before it crashed down on the copper bar surface. Andrew wasted no time. He pointed his weapon and fired. For the second time in her life, Sydney felt the breeze of a bullet sail past her cheek. She reared back and swung the bat again.

  This time the Louisville Slugger found its target.

  Chapter 36

  NOW

  “Tuna salad on white bread. With potato chips on the side.”

  “And it’s extra special when you can get it here. In my mom’s kitchen.”

  Horst put his hand on Sydney’s shoulder. “If ever there was a time for comfort food, I guess this is it.” He looked up at Nancy, thanked her, and asked where her own sandwich was.

  “Don’t worry about me.” She picked a chip off her daughter’s plate. “Been a hell of a three days, hasn’t it?”

  “I’m doing fine, Mom.”

  Nancy tossed Horst a what-am-I-going-to-do-with-her look. “I don’t call ducking bullets while a madman corners you in your own restaurant doing fine. Those six stitches in your leg…”

  “The bullet grazed me, Mom.”

  “And I’m supposed to take comfort in that? A bullet’s a bullet. So you can stop right there with your sugarcoating.”

  “I’m with your mother on this one, Kitz. Although I must say I’m mighty impressed with the way you handle a bat. Still, things could have ended up a lot worse.”

  “Will you two stop? I’m here. Andrew’s in jail. Justice prevailed.”

  They both reached out to hold her hand, Nancy on her right, Horst on her left.

  “This sandwich isn’t going to hop into my mouth on its own.”

  Horst and Nancy did a synchronized pullback.

  “What about Ronnie? Did Andrew admit he did that shooting?” Nancy asked.

  “Andrew’s not saying squat to anybody. He’s a lawyer, after all. But the bullets we pulled out of Hush Money’s walls are a perfect match to the casings we found at Ronnie’s. It was him shooting at the two of you. Not to mention we’ve got film putting him at the scenes. Coming and going. Both from the mayor’s house and Ronnie’s. We’ve got you to thank for that, Sydney.”

  “I kept thinking about those questions you asked after Ronnie was shot. You asked me to use my senses to jog my memory. What did I see? What did I smell? I told you I didn’t hear anything. That didn’t m
ake any sense. Then I realized Andrew must have used his bike. That’s why I didn’t hear a car.”

  “Sure enough. We checked the cameras on the bike paths. One runs right behind the mayor’s house. There he was. Pedaling fast at a time that corresponds to the time of death. Same when he tried to shoot you and Ronnie. He scooted up that path like a cockroach scurrying under the fridge.”

  “He wasn’t trying to kill me. At least not that night. Ronnie was the target. She knew the baby Cynthia was carrying couldn’t possibly have been Andrew’s. I think in his own twisted logic Andrew thought he could eliminate her and no one would ever be the wiser.”

  Nancy’s voice was firm. “As far as I’m concerned, Andrew Conyer could be launched to a frozen planet in some far corner of the galaxy. Let him die a slow, cold death.”

  “What’s the prosecutor have to say?” Sydney asked Horst.

  “She’s ready for whatever Andrew and his defense team want to trot out. Cynthia’s been interviewed. She’s on record saying that Andrew told her he killed the mayor. She says that, along with other experiences she’s had with him throughout their marriage, made her afraid to say anything to anyone.”

  “I guess there’s no way of knowing what goes on behind closed doors, huh?”

  “There’s going to be lots of charges,” Horst continued. “Aggravated murder, assault with intent for his attack on you and Ronnie. Obstruction.”

  “So long as he never sees the outside of a prison cell,” Nancy said. “What about Melanie White and that tiny snot Brooks Janeworthy?”

  “Melanie White’s going to be spending a whole lot of her daddy’s money on lawyers,” Horst said. “The FBI’s moved in. Last I heard, they’d removed more than twenty boxes of files from her office and home. Computers and cellphones, too. Same thing goes for the two men conspiring with her on the tape.”

  “Is she still mayor?” Clay asked.

  Horst shook his head. “The council acted quickly. She didn’t put up a fight. My guess is a special election will be called. Till then everyone’s paying extra attention to the rule book. As for Janeworthy, I don’t have a clue.”