Now we’re getting somewhere. Leaning forward, Colm’s pulse quickened. “You were fired that same day? Why? How could Kallita be behind it?”
“Kallita was behind a lot of crap in this town. Just ask around. Kallita hated this town and everyone in it. She couldn’t have had any friends.” She turned to her husband. “You remember, Mark, Klaus Gerst killed himself because of her. Frieda almost went mental over it. And what about that Audri woman, what was her name? Audri —”
“Seavers.”
“Yeah, Seavers, that’s right. No, sir, I’m no investigator, but that woman did something to get me fired. I’m sure of it.”
“Did they give you a reason for firing you? They can’t just let you go without cause. There had to be a reason.”
“In my case, they didn’t really need one, but apparently some money went missing from a discretionary fund at the hospital. I had access to that fund as I was responsible for making sure our supplies and sundries were maintained. There was no proof that I was responsible for the disappearance of the money. I can’t prove it, but I know Kallita pointed the finger at me since she was the bookkeeper on that account. It didn’t matter. All the hospital had to do was tell the agency that I wasn’t working out. Trouble is, I’d been working out for almost a year, so my question to them was, why would I do such a thing? I found out later that—”
“Detective,” Mark interrupted his wife. “Are we suspects? Do we need a lawyer?”
Colm clued into Mark’s thinking. He’d cut his wife off at a crucial point. He needed to keep them talking.
“As far as I’m concerned right now, this is nothing more than a missing person investigation. No evidence points to foul play. I don’t believe there is any reason for concern. So, please, who was your boss? Was it your supervisor at the hospital, or was it someone at your agency?”
“It was the hospital that made the complaint, but it was Frieda who had to let me go.”
“Frieda Gerst? How is she involved in this?”
“Frieda was my caseworker. She was the person who assigned me to the position at the hospital. It fell to her to let me go. I don’t think she ever knew the truth behind it. You see, I worked at the hospital under contract to the employment agency. The agency charged the hospital for my services, and in turn, paid me my wages. I was always considered a contract worker in the hospital’s eyes. Therefore, they could let me go without cause or warning. It was the agency that decided to terminate our relationship.”
“And Frieda was the one who did that?”
“Yes, but as I said, I don’t think she had a clue as to why.”
“But you found out.” Colm pushed a little harder; he needed to get to the bottom of this.
Mark interjected. “Well, no one would say for sure, but it had to be the so-called missing money. Kallita was behind it, I’m convinced of it. You know, I was married to that cow for only a short while, but there was hardly a day went by when I didn’t want to strangle her. I’m glad she’s gone. I hope you never find her.”
Colm was used to this reaction by now. The animosity that prevailed concerning Kallita was too rampant. If indeed something dire had happened to her there was no shortage of suspects.
“I have a couple more questions for you. Mrs. Taylor, you say Frieda Gerst was your boss. You were a nurse’s aide, were you not?”
“Yes, that’s right. Frieda was a caseworker at the employment agency. I worked freelance. They would find me work at various retirement homes or hospitals wherever there was a need. The money wasn’t great, but it was OK, and none of the big hospitals were hiring, so it was all I could get. It was going good—until that—day.”
* * *
A group of onlookers had gathered outside milling about the lot. Some had split off into small groups of two or three. Most congregated on the lawn near the front of the building, straining to get a look inside the Mercedes. Jen had stretched yellow crime scene tape around the car encompassing the cars on either side and her cruiser, which remained behind the sports car. Emily stood talking to the constable as they waited. Dan Clifford rolled into the parking lot.
What is she doing here? Clifford shook his head as he spotted Emily talking to Jen. He threw the car into park, stopping it with a sudden jolt as the transmission locked up before the vehicle could brake. Stepping out of his cruiser, he donned his cap and approached the two women.
Upon seeing Clifford approach, Jen stepped away from Emily and took the Staff Sergeant aside to bring him up to date.
“The coroner is on his way,” said Jen. “He’ll be here in five minutes. The paramedics are waiting for Gentry to get here.”
Clifford glanced over at Emily. “What’s she got to do with this?”
“She came here looking for the victim, Sarge. She’s responsible for setting off the alarm. If she hadn’t, this car could have sat for days. It smells bad enough as it is.” She grimaced and her shoulders shivered. “I shudder to think what it might be like in a day or two.”
“I want to talk to her. She seems to have her nose in a lot of crap right now, and I’m getting tired of it.” He walked to where Emily was standing.
“Miss, er, James is it?” Emily nodded. “Why are you here, and what have you got to do with the deceased?”
“She’s—was my boss.”
“Your boss?”
“Yes, Sergeant, I work here. Frieda was my supervisor.” Emily looked over at Frieda’s car. The driver’s door was still open, and the rubberneckers were crowding the tape to get a better look. “I don’t know who’s answering phones in there. It looks as though the whole company is standing out here.”
“Did Frieda have a last name?”
“Gerst. Her name was—is, Frieda Gerst.”
The name caught Clifford off guard. For a moment, he froze, staring at nothing. Barely twenty-four hours earlier he’d been going about his routine, confident that all was well in the world. Kallita Prewitt was buried so deep in his past that he’d forgotten all about her. But now, less than a day later, another name from the past surfaced to haunt his thoughts. This was too coincidental for him to swallow. Emily James finds a purse belonging to a woman who disappeared over two decades ago, the paper prints an article about it, and now, it seems, James works for one of the persons of interest in that case. To top it off, that person is found dead in her car. Alarm bells clanged in Clifford’s head, and he didn’t like the message they were sounding.
“How long have you worked here?
“A little over four years.”
Clifford’s thoughts were interrupted as the coroner’s car swung into the lot. It was time to get the crowd to disperse. Ducking under the tape, he made his way past Frieda’s car and addressed the crowd.
“OK, everybody. It’s time to go. There nothing more for you to see here. Let’s let these men do their jobs. I’m sure you’ll all read about it in the paper. Now move along please, back inside. I’m sure all of you have work to do.”
The onlookers slowly drifted back inside, conjecturing to each other as to what might have happened, and grumbling about having to return to work. Doctor Gentry already had the door open, examining the body. The pathologist looked up at Dan. Gentry’s eyes were narrow and wrinkled with age. They sat deep into their sockets with dark, puffy bags under each one. His furrowed brow rose high on his forehead with a patch of grey bordering each side of his otherwise bald scalp. He was a man prone to having a few drinks and Dan wondered if he indeed had had a few already today.
“Whew! That smells. I can never get used to that odour, Bob. I don’t know how you do it.”
“After thirty-five years, I guess you get used to it. At least this one isn’t in decomp’. This is little more than a shitty diaper. You ever have any kids?”
“Yeah, but I don’t remember them smellin’ like that.”
“Like I said, you get used to it.”
“Not me. Anyway, can you tell me how long she’s been dead?”
Gentry frowned
. “It won’t be accurate. She’s been in a hot car all day. Her body temp is still well over 90. It’s got to be a hundred degrees in this car. Even with the door ajar. I’m afraid you may have to look for an alternate way to determine TOD. We’ll get her back to the lab and do a post-mortem. That might tell us something.” He beckoned to the paramedics to remove the body.
“Right, OK, thanks.” Clifford waved Jen over. “I’ve got a feeling about this. I want this area secured until we get the autopsy report. Nobody in or out and the two adjacent cars stay put until Forensics is done.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Emily getting into her Mustang. “Whoa! Wait a second, young lady, I need to speak to you. Jen tells me there was someone else with you when all this happened.”
“Yes, Tom Jefferies, he’s inside, but all he did was pull on the handle and set off the alarm. I doubt he knows any more than that.”
“I still want to know why you were here. Are you supposed to be working today?”
“No, sir, I just needed to talk to Frieda about—er, well—I wanted to come back to work, well that is—oh poo! I might as well tell you. I was suspended for three days because of some foul-ups at work. I was preoccupied with that purse, and Frieda nearly went ballistic when she found out about it. I wanted to see if she would let me come back early.”
“Frieda knew about the purse?” Clifford couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Who else knows about it?”
“Well, you, of course, and Colm, that is Detective O’Byrne and a couple of people where I live and ahh—” Emily winced as she said it. “Ahh, the newspapers.”
“Newspapers? I’ve seen the article in our paper; you told more than one?” Clifford’s face was crimson.
“No, not me, but I guess Julie’s boss sent it to the major papers. It is being run in the Metro Star for sure.”
Clifford had a sudden need for a toilet. Fighting to control his bowels, he used every bit of mental and physical strength to keep from having an accident. It seemed nothing he could do would stop this business of Kallita Prewitt from exploding into a full-blown investigation. Now with this revelation he needed time to think. There had to be some way to cool this down and quickly. Maybe I need to throw a scare into this meddling little bitch.
Moments later, his emergency averted, Clifford turned to Jen, “Constable Stroud, take Miss James here into custody, please. Read her the Caution. She just became a suspect.”
Jen’s eyes grew wide and her chin dropped causing her mouth to gape open. She took her handcuffs out of their pouch. “Turn around please. You are under arrest for ahm—what’s the charge, Sergeant?” She looked at Emily, who was equally as flabbergasted.
“Interference with an ongoing investigation.” He knew it was weak, but it was enough for now.
Shaking her head, Jen continued, “Interference with an ongoing investigation. I guess. You have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay. We will provide you with a toll-free telephone lawyer referral service if you do not have your own lawyer. Anything you say can be used in court as evidence. Do you understand? Would you like to speak to a lawyer?
Emily’s legs turned to rubber. Shaking, she gripped the fender of her Mustang to keep from falling. “I - I don’t know. I haven’t done anything wrong. Have I? Please, this is not right. You can’t do this.” Her face wet with tears, she searched Jen’s eyes looking for some compassion, some sense of understanding. “I just want to go home.”
A satisfied smile crept across Dan Clifford’s face as he watched Emily being ushered into the back of Jen’s cruiser. There! That ought to put a breeze up her skirt.
Chapter 17
Frieda’s words resounded in Emily’s mind. “Anyone who crossed paths with Kallita, or anyone connected with her, paid dearly for it.” Repeating itself over and over again, like an ear worm. An incessant tune that played on and on regardless of how hard she tried to change the record. She stood in abject silence as Constable Stroud processed her into the holding area of the police detachment. She kept waiting for the bad dream to end. To wake up and find herself at home snuggled into her duvet and fresh cotton sheets. Frieda’s not dead. It is all a dream and I’m not here being fingerprinted. Looking down at the black ink on her hands as she wiped with the towelette Jen had handed her made it real. There was no dream, no duvet, no sheets and Frieda was indeed dead. And I’m actually being arrested.
“Tell me again. Why are you arresting me?”
“I am arresting you for interfering in an ongoing investigation.”
“What investigation? Frieda? Frieda’s death? You can’t be serious?”
“No, Miss James. I believe the charge is related to the Kallita Prewitt case.”
“But—that’s a dead case, and all I did was report the purse that I found. How could it be an active case? You guys weren’t even looking into it until I brought the purse in.”
Jen took Emily’s arm and directed her toward the holding cell.
“I suggest you call a lawyer, Miss James. You may have one phone call now. Make it count; you won’t get another until after you see the judge.” She stopped at small metal desk standing in a corner by the grey steel door leading to the cells. A solitary black phone sat on top. A list of phone numbers was taped to the surface of the desk next to the phone.
“There’s about a dozen numbers there of local attorneys or you can use the 800 number at the top of the list. If your lawyer’s number isn’t on the list, then I recommend the toll free. They will, at least, send someone within the hour.”
Emily reached for the phone, trying desperately to remember Colm’s number. She had committed it to memory the moment he gave it to her, but the stress of this situation would not allow her to recall it and Frieda’s admonition would not go away. She sensed Jen was becoming impatient. It was no use. She had to ask.
“Constable, please give me a break. I’ve done nothing wrong. If you have to do this, please, at least give me Colm’s phone number. He’s the only one I trust right now.”
“Calling Colm won’t do you any good. He’s on suspension. He can’t even come in here without his union rep. So I can give you his number, but he won’t be able to help. Besides, Clifford’s the one who made the charges. He’s not going to listen to Colm. You’re better off with a lawyer.”
It was a punch to the stomach. Jen’s words knocked the wind out of her. Emily’s legs buckled and Jen had to catch her before she crashed to the floor. Guiding her to a chair beside the phone she tapped her radio mic and called for assistance. Two male officers emerged from their offices.
“She’s fainted. Help me get her into the cell and call a medic to check her out. The last thing we need is a perp croaking out on us. Clifford would have a baby.”
* * *
Dan Clifford pulled into the rear parking lot of the detachment and parked his cruiser in the designated spot next to the car Jen had been driving. Churning the events of the day over in his head, he questioned whether suspending Colm was premature. He had a suspicious death on his hands, and now he had no one to investigate. Ordinarily, that being the case, he would call division headquarters and request a detective be sent from Toronto. However, this would raise a lot of questions from superiors as to why Colm had been suspended. Questions he’d rather not answer. He didn’t like it, but since the paperwork hadn’t been processed yet, he toyed with the idea of reinstating him. As he locked the police car, Clifford spied someone lurking near his pickup truck.
The black Ford F150 stood at the rear of the lot. It was brand new. He’d only had it a month, and Dan was quite protective of his shiny new toy. It had attracted a lot of attention from the cops at the detachment, and one or two had shown a bit of resentment that he had treated himself to a brand-new truck. Seeing someone skulking around it set his teeth on edge. He strode over to his vehicle to challenge the lurker. Walking around the front of the truck to the driver’s side, all Dan could see was the individual’s back. Short with short, reddish
-brown hair, dressed in baggy blue jeans and a black T-shirt that read “Fear Is Dangerous,” the interloper was bent over looking at something near the rear wheel of the truck.
“Ahem! Excuse me. Is there something I can do for you? Why are you messing around my truck?
“It’s OK, really. I was feeling a bit queasy and thought I was going to throw up. Did you know you there’s a huge scratch on the side here?”
“What! Where?” Dan rushed to the back of the truck, pushing his way past the individual and crouched down to examine the paint. “What scratch? You’re full of shi— ouch that hurt.” Snapping his hand to the back of his neck, he felt like he’d been stung by a wasp. Quickly turning to face the intruder, he stumbled and fell to the ground smacking his head against the running board on the truck. With blood oozing from a wound on the side of his head, Dan Clifford lay semi-conscious on the ground. He couldn’t summon the strength to call out. All he could do was watch as the bluejeaned interloper ran away toward the street. Within seconds, his vision faded, and everything went black.
* * *
“Something’s going on outside!” Excited and out of breath, Auxiliary Constable David Conger stormed into the holding cell where Jen was attending to Emily.
“What do you mean something’s going on? Have the paramedics got here yet?”
“No, not yet, but there’s a guy running through the parking lot. At least I think it’s a guy, could be a woman. It’s hard to tell from the cameras. But he/she came from the back of the lot and took off hell-bent down the road. What would someone be doing runnin’ around in our lot?”
“I have no idea.” Jen dismissed the incident, chalking it up to an overexcited newbie. David was new on the auxiliary force and was at the detachment to observe and learn procedures before being allowed in the field with real police officers. “All I know is, I need the paramedics. Be sure to bring them back here as soon as they arrive. Got me?”
Kill Her Twice Page 12