DEAD MAN'S JUSTICE - A Place of Evil (Stone & McLeish Thriller Series of Stories Book 2)

by Gregory Stenson

  The level indicator pinged as they reached the top floor. The elevator doors opened and Sharp ushered them into the main lobby and then led them down a short corridor, with plush carpeting and artwork adorning the walls, to the reception room where Mrs. Randall was sitting talking to Anthony Bloom.

  ‘Thank you Sharp,’ said Mrs. Randall as she stood up from her chair to greet Stone and Mac. Sharp stood by the door, doubtless never very far away from his charge.

  ‘Morning Ma’am, apologies if we’re a little late, we had to go into the precinct to see Finch about yesterday,’ said Stone.

  Stone and Mac shook hands with Mrs. Randall and Bloom and sat down on single chairs facing them. Sharp took their overcoats and poured them both a coffee.

  ‘How’s your arm Brad? Not too painful I hope?’ asked Mrs. Randall.

  Stone’s hand went automatically to his left arm and said ‘It was just a scratch, its fine Ma’am, thanks.’

  ‘And Mac did you get anything on your camera of the people who did it?’

  Yes, a guy called Tariq at the precinct had this image enhancing stuff and we got some good shots of the assailants,’ said Mac.

  ‘It was the same guy, am I right?’ said Bloom.

  Stone looked at Mac and there was an awkward silence for a second or two whilst they figured out whether to tell the truth or not.

  ‘Seems that way, y-yes,’ answered Stone.

  ‘Now gentlemen, down to business.’ The significance of Bloom’s question to Stone appeared to have passed by Mrs. Randall. She continued with the reason for asking Stone and Mac to see her. ‘From everything I’ve heard so far it looks like the police are dragging their feet in finding my husband’s killer. I know you know who it is Brad and it’s why I’ve asked you here today.’ Bloom looked at Stone and they exchanged a knowing glance, he decided to let Mrs. R control the situation. ‘I want you to bring the killer to justice. I don’t care how you do it, and I don’t care how much it costs, I won’t rest until I know he’s behind bars, or dead.’ The seriousness of her tone had risen until her final statement when she hit the arm of her chair with her hand showing her anger and frustration at losing her husband to a faceless killer.

  Stone spoke first and was a little surprised at the responsibility Mrs. Randall was bestowing upon him and Mac, but he accepted the task, ‘Mrs. Randall, we know who killed your husband. He shot at me on the morning of the same day; I had to dive off my yacht to avoid being shot. He must have followed Guy to my house. It was over so quickly, he took off afterwards in his SUV, we couldn’t chase him but we saw him shoot your husband,’ said Stone.

  ‘He’s here in New York Ma’am, we’re sure of that. I brought a police document pouch from Trinidad,’ started Mac. ‘It had enough evidence, including the gun, to convict him but as you know for some reason Senior Detective Ramirez is screwing around saying he hasn’t received it.’

  ‘That’s why I want you two to handle things for me. Bloom will give you assistance; just tell him what you need. So, will you do this for me?’ she asked.

  ‘Ma’am we don’t need your money. We have our own reasons for wanting this man caught. Personal reasons,’ said Stone.

  ‘Was she in the car?’ asked Bloom.

  Mac shot a glance over to Stone knowing that Bloom was being mischievous but they had no idea why.

  ‘I’m not sure who you’re…’ began Stone.

  ‘Rachel. Rachel Parker?’ added Bloom.

  Mrs. Randall had no idea what Bloom was talking about and Stone had no intention of bringing her name into things. It wasn’t necessary to sully the name of her husband now that he was dead, thought Stone.

  ‘Who is this Rachel Parker?’ asked Mrs. Randall.

  ‘The err… killer’s moll Mrs. Randall. She’s not important; the main thing is to get to the killer himself.’ Stone thought he’d deflected the situation well and looked sternly at Bloom as if to denounce his mentioning her name as scurrilous.

  Chapter 24

  Bloom asked Stone if he wanted more coffee and gestured that he join him at the side table where the decanter and cups had been laid out. He picked up the silver coffeepot and whispered to Stone as he poured. ‘Was she? Was Rachel in the car?’

  ‘What’s it got to do with you? How do you know Rachel Parker?’ asked Stone in as low a whisper as he could so that Mrs. R couldn’t hear. Sharp was also fortunately out of earshot.

  ‘I know all about her and Guy. I arranged everything for Guy Randall, the deeds for his secret apartment and other clandestine matters. I know he followed her to Trinidad and she was probably the reason he was killed. Am I right?’

  ‘Whether you’re right or not, this isn’t the time and place to discuss it, there’s no reason for Mrs. Randall to know about her and Guy. Agreed?’ Stone said agreed through clenched teeth indicating that he had to agree like it or not.

  ‘Now, I have to tell her about the key to the apartment that Guy gave to me as he lay dying, I have no idea where it is and we can’t let her know where it is until we know Rachel is out of there. Understand?’

  ‘I know where it is,’ said Bloom.

  ‘Okay, well, keep it a secret until Rachel’s behind bars also. She kidnapped and almost killed my girlfriend so she’s in the firing line too.’

  ‘Okay, okay we’ll talk later,’ said Bloom.

  They returned to their seats. Stone gave Mac his coffee and Bloom placed a fresh cup in front of Mrs. Randall.

  Stone began to tell Mrs. R about her husband’s messages.

  ‘Mrs. Randall, I have some things for you,’ Stone reached into his pocket and brought out a bag and emptied the contents onto the coffee table. There were two keys and Guy’s cell phone. ‘Guy gave these to me when…err erm he told me to make sure you got them personally, he also asked me to pass on a personal message to you. He said tell my wife I love her, I’ve always loved her.’

  Mrs. Randall was a little overcome at hearing her husband’s message and reached for a tissue. She dabbed at the corner of her eyes. Bloom turned his head away slightly but Stone could still see the insensitive smirk on his face. ‘He gave me these keys Mrs. Randall. I think one of them is to some property somewhere, he didn’t say where. We’ll see what we can do to find it. Perhaps Mr. Bloom will assist us. And this key, he said, was to a safety deposit box here in the city.’

  ‘A safety deposit box?’ asked Mrs. Randall.

  ‘Yes Ma’am, it contains one million U.S. dollars, In cash,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ she began. ‘Why would he keep such an amount in cash like that?’

  ‘I don’t know Ma’am. He didn’t say.’ Stone did know and so did Bloom. Mrs. Randall would hopefully never know the truth, if she did it would devastate her and destroy the happy memories of her late husband.

  The news about a property and a large sum of money came as a complete shock. She sat and thought for a moment. She was a wealthy woman in her own right and since her husband’s passing had inherited a good deal more. She didn’t need the money and decided there and then what to do with it.

  ‘Brad. Mac. The money is yours. I know you will bring the killer to the police, so you shall keep the money for your services.’

  ‘But Ma’am…’ Stone tried to say something but Mrs. R continued.

  ‘With respect to the property I’m sure it will be resolved in good time…’

  Bloom was fidgeting nervously; he was astounded to hear such generosity and said, ‘Mrs. Randall, perhaps I should go with them to supervise the collection of the money, b-besides I should draw up some documents for the proper legal transfer…’ he added quickly, thinking on his feet. ‘Stone we’ll agree a time okay?’

  ‘Whatever Mrs. Randall wishes Bloom, as I’ve said we don’t…’

  ‘That’s settled then. What about tomorrow afternoon? We’ll do it then.’

  Bloom was taking charge. Stone was beginning to think he had an ulterior motive. He went along with it to keep the peace.

  ‘I have to
visit my daughter this afternoon so I’ll call you as soon as I’m back in town,’ said Stone.

  ‘Good. Then we’re all agreed. Thank you so much Brad and Mac. You don’t know what it means to know you’re doing this for me.’ Mrs. Randall seemed to relax a little now that she had finally talked to Stone and her confidence grew knowing the hunt to find Guy’s killer was moving in the right direction. She was still troubled as to why Guy was in Trinidad though, she had gotten no satisfactory answers from his magazine and she wouldn’t rest until she’d found the reason why.

  ‘Why was he in Trinidad,’ Mrs. Randall blurted out the question, almost as if she was asking herself, her face contorted in desperation. Stone could see just how much pain she was in. He looked across at Mac and Bloom; their uneasiness was plain to see also. He felt compelled to try to reassure Mrs. Randall that Guy was in Trinidad on legitimate business.

  ‘He err he’s a journalist, he said he was doing an article on the Caribbean,’ Stone paused to ensure he painted the right picture, Mrs. Randall was reaching for another tissue and looked up at Stone intently. ‘He wanted to expose the myth behind the ‘paradise’ tag that everybody thinks about the islands, the danger to tourists. He saw a newspaper report about my wrongful arrest for attempted murder and came to interview me.’ Stone thought he’d done enough to protect her husband’s reputation and to help her reconcile the awful events in her mind.

  ‘Yes but he was shot Brad, why would someone want to shoot my husband?’ Her words we half spoken half cried.

  Mac took up the story.

  ‘He was in the wrong place at the wrong time Ma’am. He came to our house and his phone was dead, the rain had soaked it so he asked to borrow Brad’s phone. He was standing by the pool with the phone to his ear and I guess Shadow mistook Guy for Stone. It was Stone he was after, just an ironic coincidence…that’s all. I know it might not help but that’s what happened.’

  Mrs. Randall was slowly absorbing the new information, at least now she knew why he died even if it was in such unfortunate circumstances. She was calmer and stopped crying, she tucked the tissue into her sleeve and said thank you to Stone and Mac, and apologized for her weeping. They said they understood of course.

  Guy’s honor and Mrs. Randall’s love and respect for her husband had been restored. All they had to do now was to make sure that in the process of returning the apartment back to the Randall family that neither Anthony Bloom’s nor Rachel Parker’s lies were not exposed.

  ‘Are you still at the Williamsburg?’ Mrs. R asked, seeming more composed.

  ‘Yes Ma’am,’ Stone replied.

  ‘I’ll call Alfredo. He has an apartment over his restaurant and delicatessen on 11th St. in Brooklyn. You can stay there as long as you need. He’ll sort out your meals and things; he’s Guy’s uncle on his mother’s side.’

  ‘But Mrs. R you’ve already been so helpful lending us the…’

  ‘I won’t hear of it, and please stop referring to me as Mrs. R, I’m Sandra.’ Mrs. Randall wrote the address and Alfredo’s telephone number down on a piece of notepaper and handed it to Stone.

  ‘Thank you, Sandra,’ said Stone. ‘I must be on my way soon I need to see my daughter, haven’t seen her since September, should have been there yesterday, well, you know what happened.’

  ‘Of course Brad, you must, we’ll stay in touch?’ Mrs. Randall called Sharp and they all stood and shook hands again. Bloom led Mac to the hall and Mrs. Randall linked arms with Stone as they walked out.

  ‘You will be careful won’t you Brad. That man is still out there somewhere.’

  ‘We’re big boys Sandra, we can take…’

  ‘I know I know just …you know, watch out for each other,’ she said. She leaned in closer to Stone and looked him in the eye. Her face took on a worried frown as she implored Stone, ‘Who was this, this Rachel, Brad? Is there something I should know?’ When someone suspected there to be more dark secrets, they still felt impelled to ask, if only to be lied to to help ease their feelings of sadness. Mrs. Randall was seeking such a lie and Stone obliged.

  ‘No. There’s nothing like that Sandra. This woman, Rachel, she made my life a living hell, I stupidly got mixed up with her, she robbed me, stalked me and kidnapped my girlfriend Karla. I paid a ransom and still she tried to kill her. We got to Karla just in time and then this Rachel disappeared. We all thought she was dead. Then she turned up here in New York again. If it’s the last thing I do I’ll find her and your husband’s killer and bring them both to justice.’

  ‘I know you will Brad,’ she squeezed his arm, ‘Come back and see me when you have some news? And one more thing...’ Mrs. Randall pulled Stone even closer and said, ‘Watch that Bloom would you? I don’t know him that well, he was Guy’s lawyer really, he gives me the creeps.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Sharp had called for the elevator and the doors opened as they heard the indicator ping. Stone and Mac rode down to the parking level and found their car. They scanned around the parking area and could see no one suspicious. It was a habit Stone would have to get used to for a while.

  If they had known which vehicle to look for, they might have seen Scarface through the windshield; all that could be seen though were his black-gloved hands holding the steering wheel and the occasional glint of the ceiling lights reflecting off his shades. Scarface waited for a few seconds for Stone’s car to exit onto street level then he fired up the four by four and kept an eye on the dashboard tracker device relaying Stone’s every move. After taking the Queens Midtown tunnel into Murray Hill in Manhattan the Porsche seemed to be heading west towards Penn station on 33rd St.

  Chapter 25

  After meeting with the contractors at the warehouse, and running through Maloof’s room requirements for his business guests, she left them to start work on the modifications and new decoration. She had ordered the new furniture to arrive for the day after tomorrow.

  Rachel left the building and climbed back into the limousine. She told the driver to head for Brooklyn.

  It was now mid afternoon and the sun was dipping fast towards the horizon, light was fading. In another hour it would be dusk. Snow flurries began to tick on the limousine’s windshield, the driver turned on the wipers. Rachel cocooned herself into her overcoat, pushing her hands into the opposite sleeves, looking for fetal warmth, extricating herself from the world outside. She stared out into infinity through a cotton filled sky, and flashes of light from the passing streetlamps pulsed across her eyes hypnotically. Her consciousness was filled with Rebecca. She was trying to wade through a kaleidoscope of memories of the lonely years without her mother and her sister, regressing to happier times, shared beds, shared clothes, shared birthdays with her twin sister. They were inseparable. They were ‘two halves of one whole’. If one felt pain the other did also, if one cried, so did the other. Then one afternoon, without rhyme or reason, she was alone. There was no explanation, no time to prepare. Her father had only said ‘They had to go away, there was no other way.’ The years passed, the pain grew less and less, from a stabbing, unrelenting twinge to a dull ache that stayed with her and had never gone completely.

  One day Rachel was told of her mother’s death. Another heart wrenching disaster in her life, ‘She died in a car wreck,’ she was told. Rachel’s dream of being together again with her and Rebecca was shattered. A visit to her grave when she was finally able to travel, and finding the flowers from her sister, galvanized her resolve to find Rebecca whatever the consequences, and with every passing second as the limousine sped through the snow laden streets she was closer to her dream. Half of her dream at least.

  ‘We’re here Ma’am,’ said the driver turning round in his seat. ‘Ma’am?’ He had to repeat himself several times. It took a while for Rachel to return slowly from 1994 to the present. She hadn’t realized they had arrived. She sat up, looked around and saw the old wooden doors at the entrance to the institution, bereft of paint or varnish and uninviting. On the sidewall wa
s a dull brass nameplate, mounted on the brickwork, drooping slightly to the left due to rusting screws, Claremont Rehabilitation Center. Underneath were the words of their motto ‘Nil sine magno labore’ – (Not without great effort).

  The sign hadn’t been polished in years.

  Rachel stepped out of the car and with trepidation in her heart climbed the six stone steps to the main door. The doors were locked; Rachel buzzed the intercom and a lethargic woman’s voice answered enquiring as to who was there. Rachel announced herself saying that she had family at the institution. The latch clicked automatically and the door sprang open.

  The hall inside was dimly lit from low lamps suspended below a high ceiling. Large iron radiators pumped out heat making the place feel stiflingly warm and the vinyl floors smelt of Clorox reminding Rachel of a hospital. This was not a modern facility, Rachel thought to herself. A kind looking middle-aged woman, whose voice she recognized from the intercom, asked Rachel what she could do for her. A second later she took another look at her as if she had seen Rachel before.

  ‘I’m here to collect my sister,’ she told the woman. ‘My name is Rachel Parker.’

  The woman looked down through her bifocal lens checking the day register for an appointment. She was turning the pages back and forth.

  ‘I don’t appear to have you down…’

  ‘You won’t. I only found out today where Rebecca was and I came straight over. It’s been too long…I haven’t seen her for thirteen years.’ Rachel kept a serious expression, she was determined to remove Rebecca from the institution and would not take no for an answer.

  ‘What is her name, Ms. Parker?’

  ‘Rebecca. You’ll know her as Rebecca Loman. She’s my twin sister,’ added Rachel.

  ‘I understand…just give me a moment and I’ll talk to Matron and see what we can do.’