Fatal Impulse: A Widow's Web Novel

by Lori L. Robinett

  “I saw the sold banner on the for sale sign in the front yard. Guess it won’t be long and you’ll have to pack everything up and empty this house. Bet you find things you didn’t even know you had.” He kissed her forehead and said, “Why don’t you go hop in the shower? I’ll whip up breakfast.”

  When Andi stepped out of the shower, the rich smell of coffee drifted through the steamy air. A mug sat next to the sink. After she brushed her hair and dressed, she examined herself in the mirror. She’d used a lighter touch with her makeup. More respectable and mature. She took a sip of coffee, which had just the perfect amount of creamer and sugar.

  She felt adored. He knew how to spoil her. Chad never brought her coffee in the bathroom. She sat the drink down and noticed a chalky substance on the edge of the mug. She needed to check the dishwasher and the water softener to see if they were working right.

  After she finished the coffee, she practically bounced down the stairs and found the kitchen a mess. She shrugged. She didn’t cook much anyway, so she’d figured why clean it up. A morning news show played in the family room. Paul sat on the couch, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His own steaming mug of coffee sat beside him on the end table.

  He jumped up and flipped off the television when she entered the room. “You look great.” He took two quick steps towards her and enveloped her in a hug.

  Her cheeks warmed as the flush crept up her face, “Thanks.”

  “Why don’t we go over to my place and I’ll fix breakfast for you there?”

  She laughed, “I take it you saw the mess in the kitchen.”

  “Yup. Did he take anything of value?” he asked as he took her hand and led her towards the front door.

  “Not that I could find.” She started to grab her purse but he gave her a tug.

  “Come on, love, you don’t need that. I’ll take care of you today. You deserve it.”

  She laughed and gave in. It had been so long since anyone had taken care of her, she was perfectly willing to let him do just that. She grabbed the keys out of her purse and left it sitting on the hall table. As she pulled the door shut behind them, the telephone rang. He gave her another tug.

  “Come on, I’m hungry,” he urged. “Whoever it is will leave a message.”

  Before he turned into his drive, she asked him to keep going.

  “Why?”

  “There’s a house up here I want to show you. I’m thinking about buying it.”

  “Really?” He glanced over at her and asked, “Not to be rude, but do you have enough money to buy a house?”

  “No, not yet. But I’m going to get a job and make it happen.”

  He frowned, “But what about insurance, or the trust?”

  She shrugged, “I’m not the beneficiary of the trust.”

  His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. “Who is?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I see. Are you absolutely sure that Chad transferred all of his assets to his trust? Stocks, that sort of thing?”

  “That’s the way it appears.” She thought about the stocks and membership certificates hidden in the gun cabinet. She’d given that a lot of thought, but hadn’t quite decided the best way to handle them. But she wasn’t ready to share that information with Paul yet.

  “And you’ve searched your house thoroughly to make sure he didn’t hide any cash or important papers?” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

  There was something so comforting about him holding her hand. “Yes. And what I didn’t search, I’m sure my intruders have. Here’s our turn – take a right here.”

  He turned his Jeep into the long driveway and followed it until the cottage came into view. She couldn’t help but smile. She’d fallen in love with the place and knew that she’d find a way to make it hers. Something about it made her feel warm and safe and comfortable. Since the place was empty, they got out and walked around to peek in the windows. The back deck had a great view of the island. She took his hand and led him up the steps to look in the sliding glass doors.

  She pointed to the other side of the deck. “And that’s where I’m going to put my hot tub, if I can come up with the money.”

  “I have a hot tub on my deck.”

  “I know.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt her gut twist.

  He looked at her oddly, but let the comment pass. “You’ll really enjoy it. I can give you the name of the place where we got ours.”

  Her smile faded at his casual use of ‘we’ and ‘ours.’ She used to be a ‘we,’ and she so badly wanted to be again. He continued on, not seeming to notice that she had dropped his hand and leaned against the railing. After a moment, she started down the steps and he followed.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered, trying desperately to squash the hurt feeling centered in her chest. “I’m just getting hungry.”

  They went to his house and he gave her the grand tour. She felt odd, almost as if his wife’s spirit was there listening. Watching. The house was nicely decorated, country French, and Andi could see Caren’s touch everywhere. She perched on a bar stool at the island and watched while he gathered up the makings for breakfast.

  The buttery yellow kitchen with whitewashed cabinets gave off a cheery ambiance. The blue countertops didn’t have so much as a chip or a scratch. A cluster of canisters stood beside the glass top stove like tin soldiers, and a marble mortar and pestle were displayed next to a gourmet spice rack. “You haven’t lived here long, have you?”

  “No. Just moved here in the late spring. May, I think it was. Caren was quite excited that I was offered this job.”

  After Chad’s death. Seemed like she thought of everything in terms of before or after that fateful night. She asked, “What made you decide to move to Buccaneer Bay?”

  “We liked the small town atmosphere, and Caren loves the coast. Being on an island seemed like the perfect solution. ”

  “I see,” Andi stood up. The woman had just died. Andi should be feeling more charitable towards her. “That coffee went right through me.”

  “You remember where the bathroom is?”

  “I can find it.” Andi headed down the hallway and found the guest bathroom. After she took care of business she washed her hands and dropped the towel. She bent to pick it up and noticed a crumpled piece of crisp white paper. She picked it up and smoothed it open. It was on a notepad monogrammed with a “W,” and said “Jimmy Webster called –207-631-32” and the last two numbers were smudged. The note was signed with a “C” and curlicues accented the slanted writing. Andi sighed. If she and Paul were going to be together, Caren’s ghost would be present for some time.

  That name, Jimmy Webster, tugged at her memory – he sounded like a two bit gangster. And she was fairly certain the exchange was the same as the numbers she’d found in some of Chad’s things.

  Bangor.

  Again.

  42

  Paul called out, “Breakfast is ready!”

  “Coming!” She tossed the note in the trash and strolled down the hallway. She glanced into their study, which reminded her a lot of Chad’s den. A framed picture on the wall caught her eye and stopped her short. She recognized the group of guys dressed in ski suits, with a roaring fire in the background. The large slanted writing at the top said “Winter Break 1998.”

  The same photograph that Chad had framed in his dental office.

  “Did you hear me?” Paul called from the kitchen.

  Her heart rate quickened and thoughts jockeyed for position in her mind.
She took a deep breath and gathered herself. What did this mean? She hurried down the hallway, and found Paul pouring orange juice into glasses. The smell of omelettes, with diced ham and cheese, just the way she liked them, wafted through the air.

  Her thoughts kept turning to that photo, so she asked in the most casual voice she could manage, “Where did you go to college?”

  He paused and looked at her, mouth open, fork poised. “The University of Colorado.”

  She picked up the salt shaker. “I only went a couple of years, to Mizzou. Wanted to be a teacher.”

  “Ah, the Tigers.” He stuck the bite in his mouth and chewed slowly before speaking again. “I started out as a biology major, but ended up switching to business.”

  “That’s funny. Chad was a biology major there, too.”

  He took a sip of orange juice and nodded. The clock on the wall ticked softly.

  A chill traveled down her spine. “What year did you graduate?”

  “2002.”

  “Really? Chad graduated in 2001. Did you two know each other?”

  He shook his head, “The University is huge. I may have run into him at some point. How is your omelet?”

  She let the subject drop, but turned facts over in her mind and examined them. After they finished breakfast, Paul started the dishwasher. He turned towards her and leaned back against the counter, wiping his hands on a towel.

  He was right. It was a big school. Maybe she was reading too much into things. She relaxed and smiled, loving how domestic and comfortable he looked. His piercing blue eyes crinkled when he smiled and she knew she had fallen for this guy hard. She wasn’t sure it really mattered whether he had known Chad or not.

  “What?” he asked as he reached out for her.

  She shook her head and went to him, feeling silly. “Nothing.”

  He pulled her close and nuzzled against her thick hair. “Let’s go back to your place. I’ll help you clean things up.”

  She murmured, “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know, but you shouldn’t have to do it all yourself. And the sooner you clean it up, the sooner it closes. And the sooner it closes, the sooner you can move into your cute little cottage just a stone’s throw from me.”

  She laughed and agreed. “First, I have to get a job.”

  “Maybe I can help with that. I’ll make some calls.”

  “Oh, could you? I didn’t want to ask.” Then she remembered the note she’d seen in the bathroom and said, “Did you live in Bangor before you moved here?”

  “No. We lived down by Kennebunkport. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” she shrugged, unable to shake the quiver in her gut. That name, Jimmy Webster, still sounded vaguely familiar, and she hated that she couldn’t place it. She also hated the thought of cleaning up the mess waiting for her back home, but the prospect of having help with it certainly made it more tolerable. He offered again to help, and she finally relented.

  Once they arrived back at her house, he wasted no time taking charge. He suggested she start on the second floor while he started on the main floor. She grabbed a couple of trash bags from under the kitchen sink, then jogged up the steps and decided it would be best to start in the bedroom. Pots and pans clanked downstairs, and she was thankful Paul offered to tackle the chaos in the kitchen.

  Clothes hung out of every drawer of Chad’s dresser, so she started there. She pulled his clothes out by the handful and stuck them in the trash bags to drop by Goodwill later. There was no reason to keep any of his things. Other people in the world could use them. She sank into the mindless task, and her thoughts turned to other things. Something about that slip of paper in Paul’s bathroom still nagged at her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. For some reason, she thought maybe she’d come across that name while looking for a job.

  She closed the last drawer, then stood and turned to tackle her dresser, and noticed the red message light blinking on the answering machine. Four new messages. She hadn’t gotten four new messages in a day since right after Chad’s death when people called to express their condolences. She punched the button and listened.

  “Andi, it’s me. Call me on my cell.” It was Dana. Apparently they hadn’t made it home yet. The machine announced the date and time – it must have been her calling right as she and Paul had left. Andi was sorry she’d missed her friend.

  “Andi, it’s me again. Call me as soon as you get this.” Dana’s voice was tense.

  “Andi, where are you? I left a message on your cell phone, too, so ignore this if we’ve already talked.”

  In the last message, Dana’s voice rose higher. “Andi, it’s urgent that I talk to you. It’s about Paul.”

  Andi snatched up the handset and punched in Dana’s cell. Her friend answered on the first ring.

  Dana was breathless, “Oh, thank God. Are you all right?”

  “Of course I’m all right. What’s going on?”

  “It’s Paul, Andi. He’s bad news. Remember Amanda Dobbins, the paralegal for the attorney that drew up Chad’s paperwork?”

  Andi blinked, wondering what the paralegal had to do with anything. “Vaguely.”

  “She and I went to elementary school together. Used to be good friends. Hadn’t talked to her in years, but she recognized my name when Edward called her boss and told him to ask for me.”

  Andi was confused. Dana meeting up with an old friend wasn’t urgent news. “What’s the problem? What’s wrong?”

  “Chad wasn’t their main client. They just did the work for him at the request of a client who has them on retainer.”

  Andi sat on the bed. “I know. It was Portia Woodson.”

  “No-“

  “Or Woodson Enterprises. Whatever. Same-“

  Dana cut in. “No, Andi, it was Paul.”

  Andi froze and looked at the door. No pots and pans clanged downstairs. Goosebumps pimpled her skin. She whispered, “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying Paul and Chad were in it together. Amanda says Paul is a really scary guy. He’s the sole beneficiary of Chad’s trust.”

  “What?” Suddenly, it clicked. Jimmy Webster was the PI in Bangor that had the ad in the paper for an assistant. Caren had taken a message for Paul. He was the one who hired the PI, not Portia.

  “There’s more. Amanda said Paul asked her for a recommendation for a private investigator. She gave him the name of some guy named Jimmy Webster. It’s Paul, Andi. Paul is the one who’s blackmailing you.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the open door. She swallowed. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Andi-“

  She cupped her hand around the mouthpiece and whispered into the phone. “He’s here. In my house. I’ve got to go.”

  “I’m calling the police.”

  “Ask for Detective Johnson.”

  “Don’t let him know you suspect anything, Andi.”

  Andi gently sat the phone back in its cradle and crept down the stairs, listening for anything that would indicate where he was. Her heart pounded wildly against her ribcage. She peeked around the corner. Pots and pans littered the empty kitchen. She eased down the hall to the den. The bottom file cabinet drawer was ajar, and Andi knew she’d closed it after checking for missing items after the break in. Something metal clanged in the basement. She walked to the top of the stairs, and heard something scrape along the concrete floor.

  She took a deep breath, tried to clear any strain from her face and walked down the steps. Paul rummaged through Chad’s work cabinets against the wall. The third step creaked and Paul looked up, his face flushed and blue eyes wide.

  He motioned towa
rds the worktop, “I thought I’d clean up down here before starting on the kitchen. Some of these wood working tools were laying around.”

  She nodded and glanced at the wooden gun cabinet. The pistol drawer was ajar. She continued down the steps and walked casually past Paul. “Cleaning upstairs went pretty quick. I went ahead and bagged Chad’s things up to be donated. So, I thought I’d come down and help you. I’ll start on this side.”

  “Did you come across anything unusual?” he asked as he rubbed the back of his neck.

  “No, just clothes. Lots and lots of clothes. How about you?”

  “No, nothing but wrenches and screwdrivers.”

  He turned his back to her and went back to the tool cabinet. He made a show of putting things back, but she noticed he looked in the cabinets at the same time. She went to the gun cabinet and opened the pistol drawer. The Ruger was in the front and the Walther was in the back, opposite of how she’d left them, and the felt was ripped. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted the big white envelope on the work counter, peeking from underneath some tool manuals. Paul’s back was still to her. She quietly pulled the semi-automatic Ruger from the drawer and checked it. Still loaded. Safety on.

  She took a deep breath, turned around and brought the gun up. It was deadly steady.

  He faced her, leaned back against the counter, hands up. He smiled that crooked smile and his eyebrows arched up in surprise. “What are you doing?”

  She concentrated on breathing and kept the bead on his chest. For the first time in ages, she felt confident and sure. “Getting my property back. Toss that envelope over here.”

  “What are you talking about?” He pushed away from the bench, spread his hands, palms up.

  “The envelope you took out of the pistol drawer. It’s just a couple of inches from your right hand. Toss it over here.”

  His smile widened as his fingers groped across the work bench and closed over the flap of the envelope. He tossed it on the floor so that it slid across the slick concrete towards her. In the split second that she glanced down, he took a step towards her. She flipped the safety off with her thumb and he froze, still smiling.