Fatal Impulse: A Widow's Web Novel

Fatal Impulse: A Widow's Web Novel Page 21

by Lori L. Robinett

  Finally, a match flared up, revealing a dark moustache. He took a deep drag before shaking the match out. She waited and watched long enough for him to smoke the entire cigarette, but stood rooted in place. The desire to talk to him tugged at her, yet she couldn’t overcome the paralyzing fear. Being the wife of a dentist, working with charity groups, planning luncheons - hadn’t prepared her for this. What if he shot her? The cold seeped into her bones, the stiffness crept up her legs.

  She waffled. Confront him? Hide? If she confronted him, what would she say? Should she have brought something with her to show good faith?

  She stuffed her hands in her pockets and crouched, careful not to move her feet. The wind picked up, and an owl hooted in the distance. Belatedly, she realized the orange glow was gone.

  She’d waited too long.

  She squinted and scanned the cemetery until she spotted a shadow darker than the night moving away from her and to the left. She’d waited too long! As she pushed quickly to her feet, her legs screamed with the sudden movement. She bit her lip and fought the urge to cry out as the blood rushed back into them, sending pins and needles shooting into her muscles. The black shadow slipped between St. Joseph’s church and the parsonage. She crept forward, careful to stay behind the tombstones. The wind whispered through the trees, and branches clacked together. It gave her enough cover to allow her to move forward quickly. The shadow never slowed. He reached the street and turned to his right. She peeked around the corner of the parsonage and watched.

  Moments later, an engine turned over and purred to life. Tires crunched in gravel and she stepped out to get a better look. The dark shadow of the car drew closer, and she ducked back when the headlights came on. She waited until the car was even with her before daring to sneak another peek. A dark car, a late model sedan, with a dent in the front driver’s door cruised past. It looked a lot like her mother’s car, an Accord. Nondescript. Something that would blend in. A private investigator would drive a car like that.

  She waited until the car cleared the cemetery, then jogged across the street. She reached her Jeep and let it idle for a moment before she put it in gear. Thoughts tumbled through her mind like pebbles in a swift mountain stream.

  Portia was behind everything. Andi felt sure of that, but had no proof. With no plan, she had no idea where to start and no one to turn to. She turned ideas over in her head, but didn’t like any of them. The Jeep cruised through the darkened town. At that late hour, the Bay was like a ghost town with empty streets and no movement. The chances of spotting the car were slim, but she couldn’t go home without trying. Like most small coastal towns, the old houses had been turned into shops with apartments on the second floor, so cars dotted the streets.

  As she drove past Caddy’s Quick Shop, she remembered the Seaside B&B and turned. She coasted past the mansions and pulled to a stop in front of the Seaside. A black Mercedes with a plate that said WDSN 3 sat in the front circle drive. That had to belong to one of the Woodsons. Portia, perhaps? She pulled into the graveled lot at Jolly Jack’s and killed her lights, then cracked her window. A door slammed and she glanced back at the front of the B & B and saw a woman swing her long legs out of the sedan. She grabbed a Burberry plaid duffel bag from the trunk and went inside. Moments later, a maroon Honda Civic pulled up and parked behind the Mercedes. A man dressed in dark clothes and wearing a ball cap got out and went inside. A red Mustang convertible wheeled into the drive and parked by the front door. The white roof buzzed up slowly and the young couple got out, laughing. They walked arm in arm, then he backed her against the white column and kissed her. He raised her arms above her head and she raised one leg and wrapped it around his. His hand disappeared under her shirt, exposing a triangle of tan midriff. They put on quite a show before they finally pushed through the front door and disappeared.

  Belatedly, Andi realized the maroon Civic was gone. She left the Jeep in the parking lot, then hurried across the street and up the drive. After a moment’s hesitation, she pushed through the front door. The young woman at the desk spoke with a French accent, and was friendly and helpful in spite of the late hour.

  Andi smiled and stepped forward. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m meeting a friend in Buccaneer Bay, but think we must’ve gotten our wires crossed. I wondered if maybe she checked in here instead of the B&B I thought we were going to?”

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t give out information about our guests.” She tilted her head and raised her thinly drawn eyebrows. “Have you tried calling her?”

  Andi tried to look as earnest as possible. “Yes, but her phone’s going directly to voice mail, so I think her battery must be dead.” Andi pointed to the door. “It’s getting late and I’m getting worried. I’m certain that’s her sister’s car out there, so she must be here.”

  The dark haired girl shook her head and spread her hands, palm up, “I wish I could help.”

  “She would’ve just arrived.” Andi swallowed hard. “Ms. Woodson?”

  The girl looked at the iPad on her desk and tapped her fingers for a moment. “Portia?”

  Bingo! “Yes! Can you direct me to her room?”

  Her smile faded as she shook her head, then her dark eyes brightened as she pointed to the sitting room. “She said she would come down for a glass of wine after she settled in. You’re welcome to wait for her.”

  Andi smiled and thanked the desk clerk, then walked into the beautifully decorated parlor. The roaring fireplace felt good after the chill she’d gotten in the cemetery. This might be just the advantage she needed. Portia would be caught off guard, relaxed and alone. Alone in the room, Andi sank into an elegant wing chair facing the fireplace.

  A well worn Lea Waite paperback sat on the table, so she picked it up and pretended to read. Perhaps Portia wouldn’t give a second glance to a fellow guest with her head in a book.

  The door creaked and Andi glanced over the top of the book. Portia Woodson walked in. She was tall, maybe 5’9 or 5’10, and slender as a reed. Her dark brown hair pooled around her shoulders, contrasting sharply with her silver pashmina.

  She glided past Andi without so much as a glance and looked out the big bay window at the darkness of the ocean. Andi shook her head, hating the heiress for every perfect movement. Chad slept with this woman, planned a new life with her, with no thought whatsoever to his wife of six years. She peered over the paperback as she considered her words, now that her husband’s lover was so close.

  The tall woman seemed oblivious to Andi’s presence. After taking a deep breath and gathering her courage, Andi sat the book down and strode across the room. Fists clenched at her side, she stood less than a yard from the other woman.

  35

  Portia turned, and her features sharpened as confusion morphed into recognition. Her eyes widened and she spat, “What are you doing here?”

  All the fear, frustration and anger of the past couple of months coiled up in her belly and gave her strength. Andi hissed, “I’m here to tell you to back off.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Her heart thumped in her chest. Boy, the gals from book club would be so surprised if they could see her now. “You heard me. Whatever your beef is with me, it ends now.”

  Their heiress laughed, and her sapphire blue eyes narrowed, “Why should it?”

  “Just tell me what you want and let’s get it over with.”

  “I want you to pay for what you did.” The other woman lifted her chin.

  Andi held her back ramrod straight. “I didn’t do anything. Besides, you have no idea what he was like. What my life with him was like.”

  “I have a pretty good idea.”

  “No,” Andi shook her head, disgusted with the other woman’s naiveté, “You don’t. Tell me, how’d you meet him?”

  The brunette’s eyes lit up, and she said wistfully, “My brother-in-law introduced us. They’ve been friends s
ince college. The four of us had so much fun together … ”

  Her voice trailed off, and Andi let that last word hang in the air for a moment, then said, “So, you had fun with a married man. Great way to build trust. Now it’s time for both of us to get on with our lives. What’s it going to take to get you to leave me alone?”

  “It’s not about money. I have plenty of that.” She turned and faced Andi, toe to toe. “You took him away from me. He was leaving you for me. And you couldn’t stand to lose him.”

  Blood rushed in Andi’s ears as she glared up at the heiress. “You’re full of shit.”

  The woman brushed by Andi and waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, but Andi grabbed her arm and spun her around. “I’m telling you, it stops now. Get on with your life and leave me the hell alone.”

  Andi dropped the woman’s arm like a hot poker and stalked out of the B&B, letting the door slam behind her. At least she said her piece. Her blood ran cold and her heart thumped like mad. She couldn’t believe she’d actually had the nerve to confront Portia.

  The door slammed again and Andi turned to see the brunette stomping towards her. “You have some gall, following me—”

  Andi cut her off, “What?! You are the one following me.”

  The woman sputtered, “I’m on vacation.”

  “Why Buccaneer Bay?”

  The young woman’s chest heaved, and Andi wasn’t sure if it was from the exertion or worry. She hadn’t noticed that inside, but she’d been focused on the woman’s face. It made Andi feel good to know she could make Portia a little nervous. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. The heiress probably thought she looked quite mad, like a killer. Andi tilted her head and repeated the question.

  The other woman settled her hands on her hips and glared. “You know damn good and well why I’m here.”

  “You want the stock certificate stuff and the deed, but I don’t have them.”

  “Wait! What?” Portia stopped, jerked her head back and blinked. “I’m here because of Chad. I know what you did to him. You killed him!”

  Andi shook her head. “It was an accident. A horrible, terrible accident.” A shiver ran up her spine at the memory.

  The brunette’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen the pictures.”

  Andi jumped on the girl’s words, determined to get to the bottom of things. “What pictures?”

  “The pictures of you and him that night. The night you killed him,” Her sapphire eyes flashed with anger. “You know exactly what pictures I’m talking about.”

  Andi crossed her arms. “How’d you find out about the pictures?”

  The young woman glared, but Andi held her gaze. Finally, the other woman sighed. “I’m the reason those pictures were taken. Daddy hired a private investigator to find out …”

  Andi blinked in surprise, then cut in and demanded, “To find out what?”

  Portia looked like a poised adult, but sounded like little more than a child. Her chin jutted forward defiantly, “To find out what was going on with Chad. Daddy knew something was-I don’t know - off.”

  Andi pressed on, “What’s your connection with Chad?”

  “He was my boyfriend.”

  She laughed, “Your boyfriend? Are you kidding me? How old are you?”

  The brunette tilted her chin up, “I’ll be twenty-three next week.”

  “And it didn’t bother you that he was married?”

  Portia squeezed her eyes closed and a single tear slipped down her perfect cheek. “I didn’t know he was married. At least not when we started seeing each other.”

  Andi shrugged, suddenly deflated. It didn’t really matter anymore. All that mattered was that a horrible man was dead, and she was finally free of him. But now she wanted to be free of this spoiled little rich girl.

  She walked down the drive, then stopped and looked over her shoulder at the other woman. “Look, I’m sorry you got caught up with him, but trust me, he is not worth what you’re putting yourself through, or what you’re putting me through.”

  The girl bit her lip and frowned, “Someday the authorities are going to figure out what you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything. It was an accident. Please, just let it go and get on with your life.” Andi smiled sadly, opened the car door and turned the key in the ignition. The brunette stopped at the end of the drive. As Andi pulled out of the lot, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the girl still standing there, alone.

  36

  As soon as Andi pulled in the garage, she went in and checked the machine. She had two messages, one from Paul and one from Dana, but didn’t return either. It was too late to call Dana, and she couldn’t call Paul, regardless of the time. She went downstairs to the basement to put the gun back in the gun cabinet. She felt guilty for even carrying it. If push came to shove, she wasn’t sure she could pull the trigger, especially now that she knew Portia was just a kid. There had been enough pain without inflicting more.

  She opened the lower drawer and laid the gun inside. When she closed the drawer, the gun caught. She tugged the drawer open and moved the pistol forward a little. Something was off. The front of the drawer was deeper than the back.

  She pulled the drawer out. It was heavy and she sat it on the floor to take a closer look at it. She removed both guns and set them on the floor, then ran her fingers over the soft green felt covering the bottom of the drawer. The fabric wrinkled where it met the back of the drawer, and pulled away from the wood.

  Andi ran upstairs and rummaged through the junk drawer in the kitchen for a nail file, then hurried back downstairs. She worked the file along the back edge of the drawer. The thin wood popped up with little effort. The false bottom popped out to reveal a thick white envelope.

  She removed the papers from the envelope and spread them out on the floor. It was like getting a glimpse of a man she didn’t know. The man she lived with for years, the man she slept with every night. How had he managed this? The thickest document was something called an Operating Agreement for Flatlander Holdings, and there were certificates of membership in the company. There were also stock certificates for Woodson Enterprises dated just a few days before the accident. Her eyebrows arched.

  So these were the certificates the blackmailer wanted.

  She flipped the membership certificates over. Chad had signed a transfer on death clause, dated a few days before the accident, stating that on his death his membership interest would be transferred to his trust. The typing was slightly blurry. She ran her index finger over the print and felt the uneven texture of white out. She held it up to the light and saw the faint outline of other printing. He’d changed the TOD clause to his trust, but she couldn’t make out what it replaced.

  She picked up the Operating Agreement and skimmed it. The Agreement named Chad as the sole member and manager.

  Naturally.

  There were also maps of the area, with a few pencil marks, most near Black Bear Cove. Notations filled the margins of the map, about pegmatite, elbaite, terminated crystals, and numbers that looked like GPS coordinates.

  The last thing in the envelope was a smaller brown envelope containing a checkbook with several bank statements folded up and stuck in the cover. She flipped open the register. The first entry was a deposit dated January 4, in the amount of an even $9,000. He’d made other smaller deposits, and a few checks were written out to what looked like building contractors and suppliers.

  She examined the bank statements, starting with the January statement and ending with the April statement, which would have been the last one before Chad’s death. She’d never seen so many zeroes. Most entries were deposits, all below $9,000, except for one which was a deposit in mid-April for nearly $1.5 million. The notation said simply “sale
of condo,” which struck her as rather odd since they didn’t own a condo. At least not that she knew of, she reminded herself wryly.

  Two checks written in January and one in February caught her eye. All three were made out to Woodson Enterprises, and said “Purchase of Condo.” The checks were $25,000 each. She didn’t claim to have any special knowledge of real estate, but that was a steal. The ending balance on the last bank statement was well over a million dollars.

  She turned the checkbook over and shook it. A debit card dropped out. After a moment’s hesitation, she stuck the debit card in her back pocket, and returned everything else to the envelope, then put it all back exactly as she’d found it. With a turn of the key, she locked the drawer and stood on her tiptoes to put the key back on top of the gun cabinet.

  At least now she knew what the intruder was looking for, what the blackmailer was after. How much did Detective Johnson knew. Did he think she was involved?

  The phone jangled above her, so she jogged up the steps and snatched the receiver up on the third ring, just before the machine picked up.

  It was Dr. McKenzie, from the hospital. “Mrs. Adams, I’m sorry to be bothering you so late, but I have some disturbing news for you that can’t wait.”

  She chewed her lower lip. “Really? What?”

  “We got back the complete blood test results from when you were in the hospital, and the results concern me.”

  She slid onto a bar stool, worried at the tone of his voice. “What?”

  “Your test indicates a steady dosing of high levels of ethylene glycol. This wasn’t an accidental, one-off ingestion. Someone is poisoning you.”

  “Wait. What?” That thought simply didn’t process. “Poison?”

  “Yes. We’ve got to figure out where you’re getting the substance. Have you eaten anything unusual lately?”

  She gripped the phone tighter. “No, nothing I can think of. Where would it come from?”

  “Ethylene glycol is usually from antifreeze, but it has a bitter taste added to it now. The police will be contacting you - I’ve alerted them, and I know they’ll want to talk to you. In the meantime, don’t eat or drink anything you don’t absolutely trust. And if you notice anything with a bitter taste, don’t drink it.”

 

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