by Alexa Steele
“He’s a pretty boy from Kansas—meek, small. Found him taking a nap when we visited. Looked scared as hell, swore up and down he’s not involved. This ain’t his MO either. He was collared for raping a young boy and trying to strangle him to death. I don’t think he’s our guy, but we got him on radar. He’s not going anywhere.”
Billy shook his head with impatience. “What’s the husband like?” he asked.
“Typical hedge fund titan,” Mack answered.
“And? Any shot?” Billy pressed.
“Maybe,” Bella answered. “If they split she stood to gain a lot. Was with him from the beginning. No pre-nup. Sounds like she was pretty lonely. Saw him with her best friend in a lounge in a Mexican resort when he should have been sleeping.”
Billy lifted his eyes.
“And?”
“Might be something there. Joslyn’s sister said she suspected something. Gotta find out more,” Bella said. “The valet guy remembers Jamie left early—well, he remembers the Maserati. But he was home for a midnight conference call. It checked out,” Bella said, looking bummed.
“He could have taken care of her then jumped in his car for an alibi,” Billy remarked.
“ME puts time of death between twelve and two,” Bella remarked. “He was out of there by eleven. One of her buddies says Joslyn was in the bathroom at eleven thirty. I don’t know. She may have her timeline off. It’s possible, for sure. But,” she paused, “I don’t know that I see him whacking those girls.”
Mack nodded his head in agreement.
“Any other Mr. Right?” Billy looked at them both.
“We got a possible Mrs. Right—actually a bunch of them,” Bella suggested.
She and Mack shared a tired laugh.
“Yeah? Anyone special?” Billy asked. He was relieved to see they were getting along.
“Ahh, nothing but a bunch of super-rich broads who live in their own world,” Mack said dismissively. “They are what you’d expect.”
“You expected that?” Bella asked, incredulously. “I sure as hell didn’t.” Turning to Billy, she added, “None of her friends give a shit she’s been murdered. None of them. Except one.”
“Why do you say that?” Billy asked.
“Trust me, these women were not feeling grief. I also think the shrink in town is certifiable. She knows more than she’s saying,” Bella added.
“What shrink?” Billy wanted to know.
“The one she fought with last week. Over her daughter’s prescription meds.”
She told Billy what they had learned.
“I don’t know, Billy. There’s something about her. She’s so cold she needs a freezer to warm up in. She’d give our local psychos a run for their money any day.”
He laughed. “Who the hell is she? Maybe we can hire her.”
“She doles out Adderall to all these type A competitive families desperate for their kids to get into a top college.”
“Well, it’s a schedule II controlled substance she’s playing with,” observed Billy.
“It’s actually the latest drug to hit the black market,” Mack added. “Calling it an ‘upper’ doesn’t do it justice. It’s made of pure amphetamine.”
“And we think she might have been writing fake scripts, overprescribing or what? Our girl found out?” Billy asked.
“Don’t know,” Mack answered. “These pills go for thirty to forty bucks each. Students are making a lot of dough. True blue drug dealers are getting into the game. Maybe someone discovered Greenvale. It’s the perfect demographic.”
“Maybe Weber’s in on the game,” Bella added.
“Maybe it started as a good business opportunity—all those college-bound Einsteins with money in their pockets and a lot to prove. Parents willing to shell out whatever it takes so their kid gets noticed. Addiction rate’s high so they keep coming back. Maybe it just got out of control,” Mack conceded. “But I am not putting my money on Weber for the murders.”
“Wouldn’t be her first exposure to criminals,” Bella reminded him.
“Why do you say that?” Billy asked.
“Spent some time at Dunmore Psychiatric,” Bella said with gravity.
“The Dunmore?”
“The one and only,” she answered.
“As a patient or for work?”
“Did her graduate residency there. But one sit-down with her and you’ll wonder if maybe she should have been the one being treated.”
“Well, can’t blame her for leaving,” Billy pointed out.
“I don’t. I just think there’s something seriously off about her. I want to know more.” Bella was serious.
“She’s a woman, for Christ’s sake,” interrupted Mack. “And not one to blend into a crowd. She would have been noticed by someone at the club last night, don’t you think?”
“She could have easily manhandled Joslyn,” she replied without answering him directly.
“And raped her?” Mack looked disgusted.
“Hey, you just heard there was no semen. Any set of hands could have used that blade,” Bella countered.
“This job’s getting to you, honey. That’s a sick thought,” Mack responded, looking upset.
“She fought with Jos, she knew the two girls, she’s a shrink with a medical background. Might have access to cyanide. Certainly has access to Adderall. You don’t want to pursue it?” she asked in disbelief.
“I just think we’re wasting time looking into a woman, no matter how messed up she seems.”
“I am telling you, Cap, she’s sitting on something.” Bella ignored Mack’s comment.
Billy looked back and forth between them.
“Female shrink kills two girls then rapes and kills a mom? Sounds like a stretch, even for you, my dear. But OK, I’ll have Mikey look into her background to make you happy. See what we come up with,” Billy said. “Let’s talk about tomorrow. Mack, I want you focusing on this Adderall angle—spend time at the high school with the kids. Go relive the glory days.”
“Hey, man, I won’t be reliving nothing. My high school wasn’t like that from the little I remember,” Mack replied.
Billy turned to Bella.
“Bella, get inside her life—do it however you think best. Find out why her friends don’t miss her, get under their skins, the daughters too. All of them. I want to feel intimate by dinner time tomorrow.”
*
As Bella drove home, an idea that had been percolating all day slowly began to process itself more fully. When she hit a red light she looked at her cell, went into contacts, and pressed R. The name RYAN lit up. Immediately she pushed END. She was nervous, she realized, surprised at herself.
Was this phone call necessary, or was she simply looking for an excuse to call? She hadn’t spoken to him since their break up last month. She thought of him every day, as she knew she would, but as long as she remained busy she was fine. That was how she had gotten through most of her life, and this time would be no different. The non -stop frenetic pace of work provided solace, affording no time to think. It was only when quiet came, when she found herself alone with her thoughts, that the uneasy feeling of regret flooded over her.
No, she reassured herself. She knew this was the right call to make—he was the only one who could help her with this. If her instinct was right, she needed a road map for how to proceed, and no one better than Ryan could give her one. No one knew female psychopaths like he did.
She dialed again, and this time she didn’t hang up.
CHAPTER 19
Jay nervously threw back his second beer as he watched Ridley walk toward the bathroom. If someone had told him he would be sitting at Ed’s Grill, sharing a beer with Ridley Westin, he would have thought they were crazy. On one level, to say he was shocked was an understatement—never did he expect to open his door and see Ridley there. Strangely, though, on some deeper level, he wasn’t surprised. It was almost as if he knew this moment would come one day. He just had no idea when.
Ed’s Grill was raucous and loud and around the corner, so that’s where they had headed. He did not want his wife to come home and see Ridley. He told her he would be home later. Much later. They had walked to the pub in silence and drank their first beer in silence, too.
When Jay first heard of the Freed murder Ridley flashed through his mind. Seeing him now, though, he felt only pity. Jay didn’t believe he killed this woman and, if he were honest with himself, he had a hard time believing he killed Margaret either. Ridley was high-strung, cagey, tentative, and withdrawn, but Jay’s gut told him he had not turned into a killer.
Living next door to him and his family for so many years gave Jay a perspective few others had. He knew the Westins personally—well, he knew Mrs. Westin. Mr. Westin was never around. He had witnessed up close her glee in emotionally torturing her son and anyone who came to his aid. Jay would never forget the day he got locked out of his home and knocked on Ridley’s door. Mrs. Westin answered, grabbed him by the collar, forced him inside, and read him the riot act. She told him about a man in the neighborhood looking for young boys to capture and kill. She warned him if he ever got locked out again he would be killed. She called Ridley down and, in front of Jay, started yelling at him about how he could be friends with such a “stupid boy.” Ridley was mortified, Jay could tell, and Jay was scared. They were only ten.
Another time, while on a play date with Ridley down in the basement, his mother came downstairs unannounced, hid behind a column, and spied on them. When they noticed, she jumped out and, in a fit of rage, took Ridley by the ear and threw him against the wall, screaming he ruined her surprise. After a few more incidents like these Jay finally told his own mother, who forbid him to ever go into the Westin home again.
To the outside world, however, she was all that the women in town aspired to be. A sought-after bridge player, a valued doubles tennis partner, a revered hostess, a wife of a doctor, and a member of the exclusive Greenvale Yacht Club. Most importantly, she was rich and well connected.
Jay used to feel worried leaving Ridley alone in that mansion, and when the kids at school befriended him but refused to include Ridley, he felt even worse. Jay had gone along with it all, and a gnawing sense of guilt had always plagued him. He never shook the feeling he had abandoned Ridley, his childhood partner in crime.
Then Margaret was killed in the Westins’ home.
Margaret Rapper, known in Greenvale not only as an eccentric drunk, but abusive and nasty to anyone who didn’t see things her way. She got away with it for years because she was rich, and being rich in Greenvale meant you always had a friend by your side. Adrianna Westin was that friend, roundly known as her sidekick. Jay vividly remembered his mom saying how sorry she felt for Ridley having not only his own mother to deal with, but that clown of a friend Margaret who was over all the time too. They would see Margaret’s burgundy Bentley parked in front of the Westin home for days on end.
So when Margaret was found dead and Ridley’s mother pointed a finger at her son, many in town were shocked, including Jay. He may not have been friends with Ridley anymore, but he knew him well enough to know he was scared of his own shadow, riddled with anxiety and fear. Not a rageaholic like Westin Sr. Not the sort to murder.
Ridley returned from the bathroom and sat back down across from Jay. He took a swig from his second beer, looked Jay in the eye, and finally began to speak.
“Look, man, I really appreciate your hearing me out. I know what you probably think and I just, I just, I didn’t know where else to go.”
Ridley poured out his heart, what was left of it anyway.
“I don’t know, man, it’s messed up. This Freed woman came to see me last week, ya know? She came to my house. Told me she heard I was supplying JJ, this kid at the high school who’s dealing. I don’t know how she knew. She was pissed. Warned me to stop, told me if I didn’t she was going to report me to the police.” Ridley cracked each knuckle on each of his scrawny hands and shifted back and forth in his seat.
“I denied it,” he continued. “I told her to get the hell out of my house. I admit it. But man, I didn’t kill the broad. I never set eyes on her again. I swear. You gotta believe me.” His voice cracked as he wiped a bead of sweat off his brow. He looked desperate.
“And she just left when you asked her to?” Jay sounded skeptical.
“Not at first. She started out quietly, ya know, saying all sorts of things like, she didn’t care about my past, she wasn’t interested in getting me in trouble, on and on, ya know? Like trying to soften me up, ya know? It got hot only when Ma came down. That’s when the heat got turned up real high.”
At the mention of his mother Jay straightened his back.
“Your mother was there?”
“Yeah, Ma came down and wanted to know why she was there. The woman got testy and Ma did too. She told Ma I was supplying a dealer at the high school, that her daughter was in danger from the stuff she was taking, that two girls in town died because of it, on and on. I denied it and Ma backed me up. The woman became real upset Jay. So did Ma. The two of ’em fought like I wasn’t even in the room.”
Jay sat quietly and listened.
“I’m gonna have heat all over me now,” he continued. “All over the fucking place people are gonna be talking smack, how she visited me, accused me of dealing. It’s gonna get out. Just watch. I ain’t going back to jail again for something I didn’t do. I ain’t taking the rap again for something I ain’t done.”
Jay peered at Ridley with a look of deadly seriousness.
“What do you mean by that, Ridley?” Jay asked quietly.
Ridley didn’t answer the question.
“All I am saying is I can’t go back there. I can’t do it. I need help…”
Jay decided now was not the time to pry into history.
“Who do you think tipped her off?” Jay asked.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Ridley answered. “JJ swore to me up and down it wasn’t him. I had it out with him after she left. But there’s this guy. We call him Mugger B.”
“Mugger B?” Jay asked.
“Yeah, man, Mugger B. He’s got a girlfriend been causing all sorts of trouble lately. Mugger supplied JJ when I was in the can. I came out and had a line to some stuff for almost half of what Mugger was charging. JJ switched over to me, fair and square, simple economics. Mugger’s girl was pissed. So was Mugger. They wanted me out of the picture.” He paused, took a deep breath, then went on.
“Maybe they heard this lady was asking around, maybe they saw it as their chance to pit us against each other and, ya know, get me out of the picture.”
“So you think they told her about you, knowing she would confront you, then murdered her so you could take the rap?” Jay said doubtfully.
“I don’t know, man. I don’t know how else she would have found out, who would’ve sent her my way. I mean, her kid goes to the high school and was buying a bag off JJ every month. Keeping him toasty. She’s looking to shut it down and finds her way to my house?” Before Jay could answer Ridley jumped in.
“And who the hell killed her, man? And why? Maybe now they’re coming after me!”
Ridley looked genuinely scared as he downed the rest of his beer. This wasn’t Jay’s forte, and he genuinely did not know what to say or think. Given Ridley’s background and his fight with this woman, it certainly didn’t look good for him. He could understand why he wouldn’t want to throw his fate on the mercy of the police. But Jay was at a loss. He had no idea what to advise Ridley or how to help him.
He did know one thing though. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t try.
“Do you know how to get in touch with Mugger B?” Jay asked, regretting the question the second it popped out of his mouth.
Ridley nodded.
“OK. We’re gonna set up a meeting. If at any time I want to bail, I bail. When I’m done, I’m done. You got that?”
Ridley nodded eagerly. He looked desperately rel
ieved.
“Thank you, Jay. Thanks so much, man.” He reached his hand across the table to shake Jay’s but met it in an awkward clasp. Jay reached for his beer can for a last swig only to realize it was empty.
“OK then,” Jay said, setting it back down on the table. “Let’s go find Mugger.”
CHAPTER 20
Greenvale’s historic cobblestone sidewalks glistened under the radiant Saturday afternoon sun as Bella pulled into town and slid her old, dented black Porsche 914 into a spot in front of a place called Spa and Spin. Directly across the street sat the tiny organic café where Erika said they would be. Bella felt like an intruder in a Norman Rockwell painting as she crossed the street and walked toward the bright pink awning where the name Pip’s Cakery was elegantly scrawled next to a black and white drawing of Eloise at the Plaza. This was their Friday morning routine, Bella noted, and they had chosen not to break it.
The row of black Range Rovers lined up neatly, three in a row. Sure enough, just as Erika had predicted, the fab three sat at a small table by the window sipping smoothies, leaning in toward one another as though sharing some steamy, enthralling secret. Through the window she could see Jenna laughing.
Bella had spent the early morning hours looking through the dead girls’ files and the forensic report on Joslyn, which had come in overnight. The charred clothes recovered in the Dumpster yielded little except for a swath of fabric identified as black cashmere. According to everyone with whom Bella had spoken so far, Joslyn wore ivory silk, with no sweater or jacket. The black cashmere must have been worn by the killer, Bella guessed. It must have been covered in blood.
Bella dressed the part for what she imagined would be appropriate for a June weekday in Greenvale: white jeans, white ribbed tank, a faded jean jacket, and open-toe metallic heeled sandals. She wore a long turquoise necklace she found at the bottom of her jewelry box, which wasn’t so much a jewelry box as it was a shoebox filled with old, unworn, and forgotten items. A thin black rope choker around her neck, mascara, and light pink blush finished the look.