“That’s not true!”
“I think you also grew jealous of Pristine, and that jealousy ate away at your fondness for her until you decided she was a problem you could solve.”
Ian sat back and crossed his arms. “I’ve humored you enough. I want a lawyer.”
Emory stared at him for a moment. “As you wish.” He gathered the evidence from the table and returned it to the burlap bag.
As he was finishing, his cell phone rang. Burlap bag in hand, he walked to the furthest corner of the room and answered. “Hi Cathy. I’m sorry, but I’m right in the middle of something now. What do you have for me?” He glanced at Ian, whose eyes were now glued to him. Emory turned his back to the boy and tried to keep his voice down. “Seriously? Oh shit. Yes, I understand exactly what that means.”
Emory hung up the phone and thought for a second about the news Cathy had given him. A worried look spread across his face. “Oh my god. Jeff!”
“Is something wrong?” Ian asked in a pleasant tone with a hint of mocking.
Although he found himself unnerved by the boy’s creepy expression, Emory stared at him for three seconds before leaving the room. After shutting the door, he tried to call Jeff, but the call went to voicemail without a single ring. He tried again with the same result. He turned the key that was in the doorknob to lock Ian inside the room, and he hurried to the deputy room. The only person he saw was Deputy Loggins. “Where’s my father?”
“In his office with Victor.”
Emory handed the key to the deputy. “Keep Ian in there until I get back.”
“Will do.”
Emory sprinted across the room and looked through the glass door to his father’s office. Victor was sitting with his head in his hands, while the sheriff leaned against the front of his desk. Not wanting to aggravate Victor again, Emory waved his arms to get his father’s attention.
Sheriff Rome saw his son and nodded. He said some words to Victor before meeting Emory on the other side of the door. “What is it?”
Emory handed him the burlap bag. “Dad, you’ve got to let me borrow a car.”
CHAPTER 42
JEFF WOODARD PULLED up to the Algarotti house and parked in front. As he exited Emory’s car, he glanced up at the encroaching clouds concealing the disappearing sun. I’d love to get out of here before the snow starts.
Taking the steps two at a time to the porch, Jeff glanced at the sofa glider, where he’d had to wait earlier that day while Emory and two deputies opened the front door with a battering ram and searched inside. Walking up to the broken door, the heat from inside the house rushed past his face and bare hands as it escaped into the cold. The front door was propped against the jamb with just enough space on the right for him to squeeze through. He smirked. How angry is Victor going to be when he sees that Emory broke a third door of his?
Once he slipped through the doorway, Jeff knocked on the door. “Pristine? Pristine, are you here?”
He crept down the hall of the large house, a massive silence clenched within its walls. He looked at the grand staircase, but following a light, he turned left into the parlor. Two Tiffany lamps – one atop the bar, the other on top of the table by the fainting couch – exposed an emptiness in the room.
Zigzagging through a space left in polite disarray by the TBI’s search earlier that day, Jeff walked to the covered portrait, realizing he had never seen what lies beneath the black cloth. Pulling up one corner, he peered at the portrait of Meredith Algarotti. Although the moment captured in the portrait had long since passed, the tortured eyes gazing from Meredith’s smiling face seemed to foretell her family’s fate.
“Help me,” a voice pleaded.
Jeff jumped back, ripping the cloth from the frame. He turned around to see an anemic Pristine standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. He dropped the cloth and rushed to her aid. “Pristine! Are you okay?”
As Jeff wrapped an arm around her waist, Pristine rested her left hand on his shoulder and waved the other one in front of her face. “I’m fine. Just a little winded.”
Jeff touched dampness as he pressed Pristine’s turquoise cashmere sweater against the small of her back, and he looked down to see her glistening forehead. “You’re sweating.”
She pointed to the fainting couch. “The doctor warned me that I might experience episodes of weakness. I’ll be fine in just a few minutes.”
Jeff deposited her on the couch. “Where were you? I called for you.”
“Did you see the front door?” Pristine looked around the room. “Someone broke in, and the place has been ransacked. I was upstairs seeing if they took any of my jewelry.”
“About that…” Jeff removed his coat and threw it over the back of the settee, which he scooted so he could sit facing her. “The TBI came over here with a search warrant today, and no one was home.”
Pristine’s face contorted into an angry frown. “No one’s home, so they just break in?”
Jeff offered a sympathetic tone, laying the groundwork to ask for the reward. “Unfortunately. I wish they had consulted me first. I could’ve called Victor so he could meet them here. Would you like me to make you a drink?”
Pristine lost her frown but didn’t quite smile. “That would be great. Thank you.”
Jeff headed for the bar. “Are you still a dirty vodka martini?”
“You remembered. Make yourself something too.”
“From your bar? No thanks.”
Pristine laughed. “Victor bought all new bottles of liquor. They’re still sealed, so you don’t have to worry about any poison.”
“In that case, I’ll have a vodka cranberry. Uh, is the cranberry—”
“Brand new too.”
Jeff mixed their drinks. “Aren’t you curious about why the TBI searched your house?”
“Of course I am. I meant to ask, but my head drifted away. The doctor said that could be a lingering effect of being poisoned, but hopefully it’ll go away. What were they looking for?”
Jeff handed Pristine a martini glass and sat down with his own drink. “I solved the murder of your stepdaughter.”
“That’s wonderful,” Pristine said with a lilt in her voice. “Tell me.”
“Your stepson has been arrested for the murders and your attempted murder.” Jeff waited for a shocked reaction that never came. Instead, he received an expression of mild surprise with a simultaneous hand to the bosom but no immediate words. “The TBI was here looking for evidence to use against him.”
“Oh my god,” Pristine uttered at last. “Do you know if they found anything?”
“Ye…” Jeff tilted his head and squinted at her. “You don’t seem all that surprised.”
Pristine raised her eyebrows. “I don’t?” She shook her head. “To tell the truth, I’m not surprised. Honestly, I believe that I always knew it. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. Ian hated both of them, and…Well, you’ve met him. There’s something not right with him.”
Jeff chuckled. “That’s very true, but I thought you two were close.”
“I feel sorry for him really. He doesn’t have any real friends, so I’ve just tried to be there for him.”
Jeff took a swig of his drink. “On the positive side, now you don’t have to worry about being poisoned again.”
“Thank god.” Pristine sipped her drink and nodded to him. “No, thank you for putting an end to him.” She raised her glass in a toast to Jeff and took another sip. “I knew you’d do it.”
“Speaking of thankfulness, Victor promised a reward of one hundred thousand dollars if I brought Britt’s killer to justice.”
“Why don’t you get it from him?”
Jeff put on his most concerned face. “He was too distraught by the news about Ian, and I really need to get back home tonight. I have another case waiting for me in the morning. It would be a big help if I could just settle up with you.”
Pristine paused before smiling. “Sure. It’s the least I could do for you. L
et me get my purse.”
As Pristine rose from the fainting couch, Jeff asked, “Do you want me to get it for you?”
“No.” She held up her glass. “The drink is helping. I’m feeling much better now. Check?”
Jeff held up his phone. “I can take credit card.”
Pristine went to her purse, which was behind the bar, while Jeff pulled his card reader from his pocket and attached it to his phone. He saw Emory calling, and he sent it to voicemail. You’re going have to wait. As he brought up the app to accept the charge, he lost track of her location, so he was startled when she came up to him from behind the settee.
“I’m sorry.” Pristine handed him her credit card. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t. I just got a shiver.”
Pristine returned to the fainting couch. “Ooh, that means someone in the future is walking over your grave.”
Jeff released a polite laugh at her reference to an old wives’ tale. He handed her back her card and gave her his phone. “Just sign with your finger.”
Pristine did as instructed and returned the phone to him. “Is that it?”
“That’s it.” Jeff sighed in relief at getting his big payday. “Thank you for your business. Now that the money matter is out of the way, I have something else I wanted to talk to you about.” He pulled from his pocket the folded flyer he had drawn on while in the sheriff’s station earlier. “Do you recognize this?” He handed the flyer to Pristine.
“It’s Scot Trousdale. Someone drew a pretty lame-looking beard on him.” Pristine got up and handed the flyer back to him. “I’m getting a refresher. Do you want another?”
Jeff handed her his glass. “Just cranberry juice this time. I have to drive.”
“You got it, lightweight.” Pristine carried their two glasses to the bar.
“That’s something I’ve never been called before.” Jeff turned his focus again to the flyer in his hand. “Getting back to my terrible artwork, I didn’t realize until a little while ago that I had seen Scot before the first day I walked into the water factory. He looks different without the beard he was sporting the few times I noticed him in Knoxville, and I don’t think he wore glasses then. You know, I like beards on some guys, but it wasn’t doing him any favors. He was smart to lose it when he moved here.” He again looked at Pristine, who was just putting ice in the mixing cup. He held the flyer up, facing her. “You still don’t remember Scot looking like this?”
“Should I?”
“He was the manager at If Tomorrow Comes at the same time you worked there as a waitress. He had to be your boss.”
Pristine threw her hands up. “Fine. You got me there. Scot called me after he got fired from the club, and he asked if I could give him a job. Of course, I have no say over who Victor hires, but I helped him the same way you helped me get hired.”
Jeff realized that last bit was to remind him she was no worse than he was.
Pristine began shaking the mixing cup, and the rattling ice paused the conversation. Once she was done, Jeff asked, “Were you surprised when you heard Scot was arrested and learned what he had been doing at your husband’s company?”
“Naturally, I was shocked.” Pristine drained the mixing cup into her glass.
“I’ll tell you what bothered me about it, apart from all of the obvious. The hidden room. We didn’t take time to find the way in. We just knocked down the wall, but there had to be one. Scot’s clever – the scheme he devised, the formulation of the drug and planning ahead in case he ever got caught. I know the hidden door is not an original idea, but how many have you seen in the real world?”
Pristine poured cranberry juice into his glass. “You have one in your office.”
“Exactly!” Jeff exclaimed. “But I’ve loved mystery novels all my life, including the gothic ones with secret doorways and rooms. I’ve wanted a hidden passage in my home since I was a kid. I just don’t think the idea would pop into most people’s heads unless they had seen one in action or perhaps heard about it.”
“What are you saying?” Pristine brought his glass to him.
“You and Scot have a shared history that I have a feeling involves more than his past two jobs. He’s never been to my office, but you have.”
“Here’s your drink.”
“Thank you.” Jeff realized that he didn’t see another glass, or her other hand for that matter. “Where’s yours?”
Pristine swung her other hand around toward Jeff. Something popped against the nape of his neck like a snapped rubber band.
He heard a loud yelp and realized it came from him. He could no longer control his body as his muscles convulsed, sending him scooting to the floor. He looked up, unable to move, and only then saw the object in Pristine’s other hand.
She told him, “We also share an affinity for stun guns.”
CHAPTER 43
PRISTINE LEFT JEFF’S line of sight for a moment and came back with a roll of duct tape. She rolled him onto his stomach and tried to get his hands together behind his back, but the paralysis was wearing off, and he was able keep his hands at his side. She hit his neck again with the stun gun. Now immobilized, Jeff couldn’t keep her from restraining his hands by wrapping the tape around his wrists several times. Next, she taped his ankles together just before he was able to start kicking.
Once he was bound, Pristine picked up the stun gun and held it to Jeff’s neck for several seconds. He screamed and writhed in agony, as every muscle seemed to cramp at once. He was in so much pain, he wished he could pass out. When she stopped, he didn’t have the strength to even open his eyes. As he lay there, immobilized and in agony, he heard her leave the room.
Jeff forced his eyelids up and found himself staring at the floor. He tried to will his body into motion, but all of his muscles were numb and aching. Drool dripping from the corner of his mouth, he grunted as he tried to move his hands so he could get the phone from his pocket, but they wouldn’t reach past his hip. You’ve got to get up! He attempted to pull his knees up to his stomach so he could stand until he heard something above his head. Please let it be Emory. It wasn’t.
Pristine had returned, and she was pushing a wheelbarrow. She stopped beside him and put the wheelbarrow on its side with the top toward Jeff. She hit him again with the stun gun before crouching beside him and pushing him into the wheelbarrow. With all her might, she pushed against the side rim until it was once again upright with Jeff lying inside.
Pristine hurried over to the covered portrait of Meredith Algarotti, and she pulled on one side of the frame, revealing a safe hidden behind it. She punched in a code and opened the door to retrieve a glass jar half-filled with black powder. “I’m glad I had to come back for this,” said Pristine. “I might have missed you.”
Calcium carbide! Jeff struggled to pull his hands free.
Pristine hit him again with the stun gun. The rapid muscle contractions caused his head to smack the metal rim of the wheelbarrow until at last, he blacked out.
When he opened his eyes again, he was still in the wheelbarrow but outside in the falling snow with the jar of calcium carbide nestled at his side. He could see Pristine straining as she pushed him – to where, he didn’t know. He couldn’t move his head, but he saw a structure in their path. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. The maid’s house!
A few moments later, Pristine stopped the wheelbarrow in front of Margaret’s former living quarters. She opened the door and heaved the wheelbarrow inside.
As she maneuvered it through the small living room, Jeff saw several candles burning within his field of vision. He could feel the mobility return to his neck, so he tried to turn his head to the left. He succeeded, although he wished he hadn’t. Propped against the back of the couch was Scot Trousdale with a clear, plastic bag tied over his head! His dead eyes seemed to follow Jeff as the wheelbarrow rolled past. With renewed urgency, Jeff struggled as hard as he could to force his muscles into action.
Pristine released the handles of the wheelbarrow and retrieved the stun gun from her coat pocket. She rammed it against his neck once again and shocked him into submission.
Jeff’s eye’s rolled back as his head banged against the metal.
Pristine pushed the wheelbarrow forward a little further. “He came here to hide out after he broke out of jail. He had the nerve to ask me for help.” She looked down at him as she came to a stop in the kitchen. “Son-of-a-bitch wanted to screw me out of half of the drug profits.” She grabbed the jar and placed it on the counter. She tilted the wheelbarrow, sending Jeff dropping to the linoleum floor.
Jeff sat himself up with his back against a cabinet door. Through blurred vision he watched the flickering flames of at least a dozen candles burning on the kitchen countertops. Pristine came at him again with the stun gun. He lifted his heavy legs and tried to kick her away.
She dodged his feet and jabbed the gun to his throat. When his head hung limp at the neck, she placed the gun on the counter by the jar. She crouched down at his side and began mimicking Scot. “He told me, ‘I didn’t poison you. Why would I do that? I need you.’ What an asshole.”
Pristine ran her fingers through Jeff’s hair. “I am sorry about this. I really am. I always liked you. I wish you had left well enough alone – taken your reward and gone back to Knoxville. I guess I didn’t realize how good you were at your job. On the other hand, I am kind of glad you’re here. I put so much work into everything, it was killing me not to share it with someone.” She pointed over her shoulder. “I didn’t tell Scot about the murders. I couldn’t trust him not to blackmail me.”
Jeff slurred, “You?”
Pristine grinned and gave him a bashful glance. “Yeah, Ian didn’t do that either.” She stood and looked through a nearby drawer, returning with a gallon-size baggie.
Once he saw it, Jeff started fidgeting and trying to get up. “Pris…tine…don’t—”
Murder on the Lake of Fire Page 25