But that was then and this was now. It was clear that he’d really boxed himself into a corner. And there was no easy way out.
“Lucky for you no one was physically hurt and the damage relatively minor,” Cramer said, sensing the attorney wanted to cooperate before making it any worse for himself. “My advice is to come clean, make financial restitution, and throw yourself on the mercy of the court, Leighton. You’ve had a good career as an attorney, earning your way to respectability. That will probably count for something in your favor. Either way, this isn’t going to go away...”
Robert reluctantly took heed of the detective’s warning. The better part of him wanted nothing more than to use his considerable skills in the courtroom to defend himself. There was a good chance he could establish just enough reasonable doubt to get off or have a hung jury. But he could also wind up being convicted and serving hard time. His career would be ruined in the process. Not to mention his marriage, if there was anything left of it by the time he got out.
Robert was man enough to admit that he’d dug a hole too deep to climb out of without soiling himself. Perhaps his best bet was to confess to a lesser charge, take what he had coming, and hope that when all was said and done Ashley would find a way to forgive him for the hurt he’d caused her. And maybe she would even still want to be his wife...
Robert eyed the detective and arson investigator. He knew they were hoping for a clean resolution to this.
“Let me call my lawyer and then we’ll talk,” Robert said.
* * *
After putting the squeeze on Robert Leighton regarding the fire at S.A.W. House, Detective Cramer turned to the other crime he wanted to talk to him about: The Woods Strangler case. It was a long shot that Leighton was their man, but he would be a fool to rule him out at this point.
Gathered in Robert Leighton’s hospital room were Geoffrey Rawlings and Leighton’s attorney, Kenneth Olander.
Cramer gazed sharply at Robert Leighton. He was sitting up in bed, showing some signs of discomfort, but clearly on the mend. One could only hope that his wife’s full recovery from his abusive ways was forthcoming.
“Is there anything you’d like to tell us about the strangulation murders in The Woods?” he asked him.
Robert blinked petulantly. “Is this a joke or what...?”
“We ain’t playing games here, man!” Rawlings said. “We’ve got a string of dead women and a killer on the loose who just might be an arsonist on the side.”
Kenneth Olander quickly came to his client’s defense. “I understood this was supposed to be a general inquiry about the murders from a criminal attorney who might have some information to pass along. If you’re suggesting that Mr. Leighton actually had something to do with this—”
“No one’s suggesting anything,” Cramer stated coolly. “In the spirit of cooperation that we’re trying to foster here, this seems like a good time for your client to get anything off his chest that he cares to share—with your permission, of course.”
“It’s obvious you have a problem with good looking, career-oriented women, if your wife is any indication,” Rawlings said, playing the heavy role that Cramer believed he sometimes played too well. “So maybe you decided that beating her to a pulp wasn’t enough to satisfy your cravings to teach women a lesson. Maybe strangling women who were like your wife made you feel you were putting them all in their place—permanently...”
“That’s preposterous,” Robert said, nearly lifting off the bed. He winced in pain at the effort. “I am NOT a killer!”
Cramer leaned forward. “In that case, I’m sure you’ll have no problem providing an unshakable alibi for every murder.
Olander whipped off his glasses. “My client has nothing to hide, but I don’t think this is the time or place to answer any more of your questions—”
“Seems like a good time to me,” Rawlings said. “It’s not like your client is ready to go home yet.”
“You can ask whatever you want,” Robert snapped. “It won’t make any difference. I didn’t kill anyone. And it’s your job to prove otherwise.”
“Does that mean you can’t account for your whereabouts during the times in question?” Cramer asked bluntly. “Or won’t?”
Robert sighed. “It means I’ll only cooperate to the extent that I can, without jeopardizing my rights or adding to the undue stress on my wife right now.”
“Believe me, if you are The Woods Strangler, her stress and your troubles will get a hell of a lot worse,” Rawlings promised.
Before Robert Leighton could utter another word, the doctor entered the room and cut the interrogation short.
Cramer was still skeptical that Leighton was their serial killer. But the attorney’s stubbornness and the unanswered questions figured to keep him right in the thick of their investigation.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Selene was at the shelter when she received the news that Robert Leighton had confessed to setting the fire at S.A.W. House. It came as more of a relief than shock, given the mounting evidence against him. Along with facing charges for arson and endangering lives, he would be charged with offenses relating to domestic violence and violating a protective order.
According to Dennis Cramer, the savvy attorney was also considered a suspect in The Woods Strangler case. Selene wondered if Robert Leighton had gone over the edge in his dislike and aggression toward women. Selene hoped that wasn’t the case, as she didn’t want Ashley to suffer any more than she already had.
Selene suspected that Robert would be put away long enough for Ashley’s wounds to heal so she could move on with her life. After an investigation, she had been cleared of any wrongdoing for shooting her husband in self-defense and had returned to work.
Selene was seated at her desk. At least one load had been lifted off her shoulders with the arson investigation solved and the arsonist identified.
After calling Quinn and talking for half an hour, Selene hung up and was just about to make the rounds and check on the houseguests, when the phone rang. She picked it up routinely.
“S.A.W. House. Selene Herrera. How may I help you?”
“By getting that bastard killing machine that you live with off the streets,” the distorted voice growled.
Selene’s pulse quickened. It was him! Just keep calm and try to keep him on the line as long as possible.
“I wondered if I would ever hear from you again,” she uttered, feigning enthusiasm.
“You’ll always hear from me—as long as you allow Herrera get away with cold-blooded murder.”
Selene grabbed her cell phone and punched redial for Detective Dennis Cramer’s office.
A moment later, she heard him bellow, “Cramer.”
“That man’s on the line at my office,” Selene whispered, even though she had put the other phone on mute. She hoped the trace was already in the works.
Cramer was quick to react. “Good. Stay with him as long as possible.”
Selene took a deep breath and disengaged the mute button, putting the call on speakerphone.
“I went to the police and they investigated Quinn,” she told him. “And he hasn’t been charged with anything. What more can I do?”
“That was a good first step,” the muffled voice said. “But the cops don’t want him to pay his debt to society. Not when they can find a scapegoat to hang this on. The only way to stop him from strangling more women is to take him out yourself—”
“Are you crazy...?” Selene fought hard quell her anger and stay composed to keep him on the line. “Why would I murder my husband just because you want me to?”
“Because Quinn Herrera won’t stop till he’s put down! The man is a viper and will kill again if you ignore what I’m saying. I guarantee it.”
“I need more than your guarantee that Quinn is the killer,” Selene said, trying to extend the conversation. “Do you have any proof that I can give to the police or use to take action myself?”
This seemed to throw him of
f, and Selene used the silence to mute the caller again and put the cell phone to her ear.
“Can you hear him?” she asked Cramer.
“Yes. You’re doing a good job, Selene. Keep him talking.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold him.”
“We’re almost there,” Cramer promised.
“I don’t go around collecting evidence of his crimes,” the caller finally said caustically. “But I can tell you that the evidence is in your house. You just have to find it...”
“I have trouble believing anything you say.” Selene was disgusted that she had to keep talking to this creep. “Why do you have to hide behind that altered voice? Who are you anyway? Why can’t we meet and discuss this face to face?”
“All in good time,” he said calmly. “All in good time. First, you’ve got to stop Herrera from putting the squeeze on any more pretty necks. Then we’ll talk about getting together—”
Selene muted the caller once more and grabbed her cell phone.
“We’ve got him,” Cramer declared jubilantly. “Say goodbye to the bastard.”
“I think I’ve heard just about enough of this nonsense,” Selene said to the caller. “Quinn isn’t a killer. But maybe you are! Do me a favor and find someone else to accuse. Better yet, why don’t you check yourself into an asylum for delusional people? I’m sure they’d welcome you with open arms...”
Selene hung up, feeling triumphant, though this invasion of her privacy had not yet reached a conclusion.
“We’ll find out shortly what he has to say for himself,” Cramer told her. “And if he knows more about The Woods murders than meets the eye.”
“Did you identify him?” Selene asked eagerly.
Cramer paused before saying, “Afraid so. It’s Michel Giovanni—”
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
The call had been traced to a motel not far from S.A.W. House. Police units were converging on the scene in hopes of apprehending Michel Giovanni on charges of harassment and violating a restraining order that barred him from any contact with his ex-wife.
Dennis Cramer rode with Geoffrey Rawlings.
Cramer still hadn’t ruled out Robert Leighton or Michel Giovanni’s involvement in The Woods murders. Or even Quinn Herrera or Todd Foxworth for that matter. Maybe it was devoted husband and security specialist Marvin Bonet, Cramer mused. Or Julian McKenzie, when he wasn’t putting out fires and babysitting his three little girls.
At this point, no one in Bluffs Bay or The Woods could be excluded from suspicion, which made the whole damned thing all the more frustrating to Cramer.
Rawlings glanced at Cramer and said, “So maybe Giovanni isn’t just yanking his ex-wife’s chain after all about her second husband...”
“What are you talking about?” Cramer asked.
“Found out that Quinn Herrera has at least one skeleton in his closet.”
“Such as—?”
Rawlings sped past another car. “Apparently he’s no stranger to domestic violence and homicide himself.”
“Meaning?”
“Herrera’s first wife was murdered—strangled to death as a matter of fact,” Rawlings said, dropping a bombshell.
Cramer wasn’t even aware that Quinn had been married before. But he wasn’t that close to Quinn and Selene to know their histories inside and out.
But how the hell had he missed this particular item?
“Who killed her?” Cramer was almost afraid to ask.
“The man she was married to before Herrera. Her ex confessed.”
Cramer breathed a sigh of relief. “So what are we talking about?”
“Maybe nothing,” Rawlings said. “Or maybe everything.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“The ex-husband—Stuart Naughton—was a nutcase, from what I’ve gathered,” Rawlings explained. “Suppose he took credit for what Quinn Herrera actually did and then Herrera decided to pick up where he left off in The Woods—a place where no one knew his sordid marital secrets? Except for maybe Michel Giovanni who, in his desire to get Selene back and maybe walk away with a few hundred grand as a bonus, did some snooping and somehow put two and two together.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch,” Cramer said cynically. “Giovanni hardly strikes me as being that clever, much less capable of pulling this off. And I’d like to think that if Naughton was the wrong guy, the truth would have come out and Herrera wouldn’t be a free man today.”
“Hey, I’m just saying it’s something to chew on, man,” Rawlings said. “We both know that sometimes murder cases lead us to places we never thought we’d go. Let’s just see what Giovanni has to say for himself.”
“Yeah, let’s,” muttered Cramer. Already the wheels were churning in his mind regarding highly unlikely scenarios that could turn into real ones.
Rawlings pulled up to the Roadside Motel where officers were already waiting.
Cramer knew something was up when Officer Leighton approached them. He was happy to see her back on the job. But the look on her face told him that the situation was anything but joyous.
“What’s up?” he asked tentatively. “Did Giovanni bolt before someone could stop him?”
“Not exactly,” Ashley said. “Apparently someone reported hearing shots fired in Giovanni’s room just before we got here. When the manager let us in, we found a white male face down on the floor in a pool of blood with a handgun beside him. Pending positive ID, it looks like Michel Giovanni died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Selene hadn’t wanted to believe that Michel was behind the calls, though she supposed she’d known it all along. Who else would be so intent on sullying Quinn’s name and destroying her relationship than the man who somehow thought he could win her back? Now that he’d been identified as the anonymous caller, Selene wondered if he had an even bigger secret. Could he be The Woods Strangler?
The notion no longer seemed so implausible. It sent chills up and down her spine.
“Selene...”
She came out of her trance and looked at Quinn. They were at the dining room table, but neither seemed very interested in their dinner.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “Guess I was just thinking...”
“About him?”
“Yes—and how he tried to do anything he could to come between us.”
“Yeah, I know,” Quinn grumbled. “Being put on the defensive is very trying, especially when you know there’s no basis for it.”
“I’m sorry your character was called into question based on Michel’s allegations. And that people we thought we knew turned against you.”
“It’s not your fault,” Quinn said. “People are always quick to fall prey to gossip and ignorance. I knew the truth would eventually come out. Hopefully now the police can turn their attention elsewhere so we can get back to our lives—minus the unwanted distractions.”
Quinn lifted his glass of wine and Selene did the same. They toasted each other and the strength of their love and marriage.
* * *
Selene and Quinn had settled in the living room to watch TV when the doorbell rang. Selene assumed it was the Bonets, who had said they might drop by. Quinn answered the door and she heard him say, “Dennis—”
“Sorry to drop by without calling...”
Selene stood as Dennis Cramer and Investigator Rawlings entered.
“We were hoping to hear from you after you confronted Giovanni,” Quinn said eagerly. “What did he have to say for himself?”
Selene’s heart was pounding as she wondered what Michel had said. This was one hole he would not be able to worm his way out of, especially if they could prove he was also connected to the murders.
As Cramer approached Selene, she could see the strain in his face. “What is it, Dennis?” she asked hesitantly.
“I’m afraid I’ve got bad news.” He ran his hand over his mouth. “We traced the call to the motel room where Giovanni
was staying. It wasn’t far from the shelter.”
“And—?” Selene’s eyes were wide with anticipation.
“When we went inside, he was dead from a single gunshot wound to the head.” Cramer paused. “It looks like he committed suicide before we could get to him—”
* * *
Selene had expected to feel indignation for what Michel had put her through. Or maybe even befuddlement. She hadn’t expected to feel sad that the man who had abused and tormented her for so long was dead. Though Michel had always had a self-destructive streak in him, she didn’t think he was suicidal.
“I’m sorry,” Quinn said.
Selene knew he meant it, even if Michel had been nothing but trouble since arriving in Bluffs Bay. Her ex-husband had tried to destroy their relationship and take away their hearts at the same time, but had failed on both counts.
“Are you sure it was suicide?” Selene asked Cramer.
“We found the gun beside the body,” Rawlings said. “There was no indication of forced entry or a struggle. No witnesses to suggest there was someone else in the room at the time. So, in all probability, it looks like your ex killed himself.”
“I’m guessing he discovered we’d traced the call and panicked,” Cramer said. “We found a cheap voice changer box attached to his phone...”
“Something told me from day one that he was the one terrorizing Selene,” Quinn said angrily.
“Yeah,” Rawlings said. “Giovanni must have concocted the whole thing before he set foot in Bluffs Bay.”
This was all a bit much for Selene to digest. Michel had come to Bluffs Bay on a mission to re-enter her life, as though they had never parted. In the process, he was intent upon tearing apart her life with Quinn. And The Woods Strangler investigation and reward money had played right into his hands.
“There’s more...” Cramer said.
Selene raised a brow. “More?” When he remained silent, she asked impatiently, “What is it—?”
Killer in The Woods: A Psychological Thriller Page 20