Lethal Legacy

by Louise Hendricksen

  Her shoulders drooped. “He didn’t have to rape Mai either, but he did.”

  Dr. Epps interlaced his fingers. “Fred’ll get him.” He nodded emphatically. “You folks give him that fingerprint you found on Mr. Haing’s neck and Fred will have him in jail in jig time.”

  “No, he won’t. Our man doesn’t have any priors. Homer.” B.J. drew black boxes around the edge of his scratch pad. “This is his third murder and we aren’t one goddamned bit farther ahead than we were.”

  Amy stared into space for a moment, then got to her feet “I’m going to fax a copy of all the fingerprints we’ve gotten to the FBI. Maybe they can find out if he’s ever been in the army.” She hesitated, unsure of her father’s reaction to her next idea. “I’m also going to send a copy to Nathan.”

  B.J.‘s head snapped up. “What for?”

  She met his challenging gaze. “He has special resources.”

  “You sure that’s your only reason?”

  “My personal life isn’t involved here.”

  “What’s over is over, Amy. Let it go.”

  She remembered the rage she’d seen in Cam’s eyes. No one except her knew, but tonight he planned to arm himself and patrol the area around the greenhouses. The savage person he sought might torture and kill Cam as he had Mai.

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” she said, setting her chin in a determined line. “This man has to be stopped before he kills again. I intend to find out who he is. And I don’t give a damn what it takes.”

  Later that evening as Amy lay in bed trying to get to sleep. She thought of the heated discussions she and Nathan had about their case the previous fall and wished he were here. Perhaps he could think of a new angle, something she hadn’t yet pursued.

  When there had been the two of them, no obstacle had been too difficult. All of a sudden something moved in her abdomen. She went still. Held her breath. Had she only fancied that she’d felt a soft flutter? She tensed in an effort to be ready if the feeling came again. Minutes passed and nothing happened. Finally, she let out her breath and let her body go limp. Maybe she’d only imagined it. Then, she again felt a strange surge, almost like a ripple, or+she giggled+like a minnow flapping its tail.

  Smiling ,she hiked up her nightgown, and placed a hand on each side of her abdomen. “Hi, you two,” she said softly. “Are you boys or girls?” She chuckled low in her throat “Or maybe there’s one of each. What shall I call you?”

  She ran down the list of names she’d been considering. “What if I call you J.B. and J.T. until I know for sure? How’s that?” She could have sworn she felt a little wriggle under each palm.

  “Are you going to have black hair and eyes like your father, or brown on brown like me?” She grew relaxed and dreamy. “I hope you have his smile.” She stretched out her legs and settled her head into a more comfortable position on the pillow and drifted off to sleep.

  First thing the next morning, she called Jed at his office. “Have you heard from Cam?” she asked. “No, is there any reason why I should?” “One of Mr. Pran’s workmen was killed the night before last.”

  “Why wasn’t I informed?”

  “I assumed Cam would call you.”

  “Well, he didn’t. What the hell happened?”

  “Our murderer is still searching. He uprooted a bunch of plants and killed the man who works nights at the greenhouse.”

  “And I suppose the sheriff thinks Cam did it.”

  “That’s right. I’m sure he’d have arrested him if Dad hadn’t convinced him that he might be overlooking something that’d cause him bigger trouble later.”

  “Thank God. How can I reach Cam?”

  “I don’t know unless there’s a phone at the greenhouses. None of his workers would do the night shift, so Cam decided to guard the place himself.”

  “Good. If he’s busy, he won’t have so much time to think about Mai.”

  “I’m worried about him, Jed. He said he was going to get a gun.”

  “Jesus! You think he’s serious?”

  “Damn right! He’s full of rage and not thinking straight.”

  “Will you be going to Wheeler today?”

  “No, I have some lab work to do.”

  “Could you, Amy? I have to be in court all day.”

  “I guess I could probably get away by noon.”

  “Thanks. Call me at home this evening.”

  Amy hurried to her darkroom with the electrostatic lifting film. What she saw when she looked at it under very low oblique light made her shudder. It couldn’t be!

  Her fingers shook as she adjusted her camera, took several time shots, and developed the film. As soon as she could get the black and white print out of the fixer, she examined it with a powerful magnifying glass. The sole print was of the right foot, yet it didn’t have the triangular scar she’d expected, nor was this person flatfooted.

  Carrying the still damp print, she rushed to find her father. She met him as he came out of the lab. “Dad, this footprint isn’t from the same man.”

  He nodded with a gloomy expression. “The FBI just called to say the fingerprints indicate we’re dealing with two men.”

  “Did they have anything on either of them?”

  “Nothing.”

  After discussing the new development in the case, her father left. Amy busied herself with her lab work, but she couldn’t keep her mind from wandering. Finally, she gave up and started for Wheeler.

  Two men. How did that change the picture? Had both of them come to the house the night Mai was killed? If so one had kept his shoes on. Perhaps Mai had opened the front door for the man she knew and he let the other one in by the back door. Amy shook her head. A person as modest as Mai would never have let someone see her in only a nightgown, even if she knew the man. She would have put on a robe before answering the door.

  No … Mai heard the door open and got up because she thought it was Cam. She saw the first man and tried to escape by the back door, but the second man was there. He assaulted her, dragged her into the bedroom, tied her up and tortured her while the other man searched the house.

  They knew Cam wouldn’t walk in on them because their female accomplice had probably been instructed to call when Cam left her apartment in Seattle.

  The faster Amy’s mind flew, the faster she drove. She arrived at the greenhouses and learned from one of the elderly gardeners that Cam had gone to Fenwick’s for his workout. She breathed a relieved sigh. Perhaps Cam would be able to work off some of his anger.

  She drove back into Wheeler. To ensure her car wouldn’t be tampered with again, she parked at the curb in the busiest part of the town and walked to the gym.

  As she entered the lobby, she caught sight of Cam entering the handball court. When she called to him, he came toward her, his features closed, his manner cool.

  She forced a smile. “How about lunch?”

  “I’ll be on the court for quite awhile.”

  “That’s okay. I have an exercise class, then I can do a few laps in the pool.”

  Cam’s lips tightened. “I’ll have to get back to the greenhouse.”

  “Cam…” He reluctantly met her steady gaze. “We have to talk.”

  He blew out his breath and pointed to a corner furnished with a lamp, three chairs, and some magazines. “I’ll meet you there at noon.” He turned on his heel and returned to the court.

  She noted that his playing companion was Kim, the Asian who had attracted the admiring glances of the women in her class. When he saw her observing her, he smiled and waved.

  Her class was assembling as she walked in. “Guess what?” she said as she sat down beside Hue.

  Hue rolled her eyes. “Considering what you do, nothing would surprise me.”

  “I felt the babies kick. Isn’t that great?”

  Hue looked down at her own protruding abdomen. “Wait until they start working out on the trampoline.”

  Amy laughed. “That’s going to be some feat. I’m carrying
twins.”

  “This your first?”

  Amy nodded.

  Hue made a face and laughed. “This is my third. I’m glad you’re having the twins instead of me.” She patted Amy’s arm. “They’re a lot of work, but they’ll make you so happy you’ll want more.”

  Amy placed a hand on each side of her abdomen. I’ll be content with just the two of you, she thought.

  After class, Amy donned a bathing suit and went for a swim. By the time she returned to the dressing room, Hue and the other women had gone home. The walls of the locker room echoed her footsteps as she made her way to and from the shower.

  The silent atmosphere made her uneasy and she hurried into her clothes. She had almost finished buttoning her blouse when the lights went out.

  She started to call out, but instinct warned her not to. Her gun lay inside her locker across from the bench on which she sat. To get it, she’d have to open the noisy locker door. That would broadcast her exact location. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she felt along the bench until she found her gym sock. Holding it open, she located the bar of soap she’d left to dry and dropped it into the sock. With the sock leg gripped in her hand, she backed against the wall.

  No sound. No sound at all, yet she sensed movement. One of the men had used a knife. The other one killed with his hands. She longed to scream, but knew no one would hear her. Panic swelled in her chest. Her breathing quickened. She gulped air. It wasn’t enough. As she clutched her throat, she felt the leather thong holding her medicine pouch. Her panic lessened.

  Force yourself to be completely still, Nathan had told her. Center down. Focus on what you see, hear, smell, and feel. In the pitch darkness she could see nothing, but neither could her assailant. She concentrated on the other three senses.

  Although she heard nothing, she felt the air current change around her. The air had a faint, spicy scent of exotic tobacco. Her pulse nearly deafening her, she waited, waited with cold sweat oozing from under her arms, waited until her nose told her where he stood. Then she swung her improvised sap and felt it hit home.

  “Bitch!” The sibilant sound ricocheted in the silence. His weapon created a ripple in the air as it plunged and raised again.

  Swiftly, she struck again. He cried out and something clattered on the floor. She aimed a kick, felt it land, and lunged for her locker.

  “I’ll get you, bitch.”

  She jerked her gun from its holster and whirled around. “Make a move and I’ll blow your brains out.”

  She backed toward the door and scurried into the hall. With the door as a shield, she felt along the inside wall until she found the switch and turned on the lights.

  Her pistol ready, she checked the aisles between the lockers and found no one. Somewhere in the dark recesses of the basement, a door slammed. She discovered an exit door in the furnace room behind the showers.

  On the cement floor near her locker, she found spots of blood and felt a surge of elation. An instant later, fear overshadowed her triumph. He knew who she was. Maybe he even knew where she lived.

  He would try again.

  16

  Amy charged up the stairs. The exit door she’d found had opened onto the employee’s parking lot, but there had been no one in sight. She dashed past the receptionist and scanned the area. How could he have disappeared so quickly?

  “How many exits are there in the basement?” she snapped as she studied the few cars in the lot. When Daphne didn’t reply, Amy swung around. “Answer me.”

  The girl stood behind her desk, her eyes big, her face stark white. “Th-Th-Three.”

  Amy scowled at the girl. “Where?”

  “Uh … uh…”

  “Good God, girl,” She raised her hand.

  “I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you. D-Don’t shoot…”

  Amy lowered her arm. “Sorry, I forgot about the gun.”

  The girl exhaled in relief.

  “Look, I’m an investigator.” She glanced over and saw the empty handball court. “Where are Kim and Dr. Nguyen?”

  Daphne shook her head. “Showering?” She answered tremulously.

  Amy swallowed. Her assailant could have been Kim. A cold lump gathered in her stomach. Or even Cam. He didn’t use to smoke, but too many years had passed since their intern days for her to know if he’d taken up the habit.

  “Did you see either of them come up the stairs?”

  “They could have. I left the desk for about ten minutes.”

  For the first time in several days, Amy’s stomach turned queasy. “Where are the exits, Daphne?”

  “One is on the men’s side. Another on the women’s and the third one is from the pool area.”

  “Can they be opened from the outside?”

  “Yes, but only Mr. Fenwick and a few of the employees have keys.”

  “But anyone can open them from the inside. Right?”

  Daphne nodded.

  “Did Dr. Nguyen leave a message for me?”

  Daphne moved brochures and papers on her desk. “There’s nothing here.”

  Amy’s shoulders slumped. “Thanks. Sorry I frightened you.”

  She plodded down the stairs, propped the dressing room door open, and collected her things. In the hall, she caught sight of herself as she passed a mirror. Her blouse gaped, her wet hair stuck out at all angles, and her sad eyes looked out of a face with no more color than Daphne’s. No wonder the poor girl had been frightened. Amy finished buttoning her blouse, combed her hair, and put on some lipstick.

  When she returned to the desk, Amy held her wallet open and showed Daphne her I.D. “How do I get in touch with Mr. Fenwick?” she asked.

  “He’s in his office.” She pointed to a door farther down the lobby.

  Amy knocked on the door labeled Ivan Fenwick and walked in. A man who looked to be about forty stood at a counter shoving tomatoes and carrots into a juicer. He wore royal blue sweat pants and a sleeveless T-shirt with the FAC logo. She approached him. “I’m Dr. Amy Prescott.”

  Bulging deltoids and biceps, which had been tanned a rich brown, rippled as he shut off the machine, poured himself a large paper cupful, and took a sip. “Good stuff.” He raised the container. “Want to try it? Great for your eyes.”

  “No, thank you.”

  He waved her to a chair, sprawled in one across from her, and rested his size-eleven athletic shoes on a coffee table covered with fitness magazines. “Are you interested in becoming a member, Dr. Prescott?”

  “I’m trying out one of your classes, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  When she presented her I.D., he took his feet off the table and sat up straight. “Somebody been saying something about my club?” He gulped his drink, crushed the cup into a ball, and hurled it into a green metal wastebasket.

  “Not exactly, Mr. Fenwick. Six months ago, the owner of Pran’s Landscape Gardens was struck and killed by a hit-and-run driver. The driver was never apprehended. Two weeks ago, Mr. Pran’s daughter, Mai Nguyen, was murdered. Yesterday, one of his workmen was killed.”

  Ivan Fenwick scowled and raked his fingers through his short blond hair. “What’s all this got to do with me?” he asked.

  “At the scene of the murder we found traces of magnesium carbonate.”

  Fenwick stared at her, then down at his hands. A white substance edged his cuticles and accentuated the lines in his palms. “So?”

  “Since we know weight lifters use the substance, we thought the person who killed Mai might either work here or be a member.”

  “Nah,” he shook his head, “couldn’t be. There’s nobody here that’d do a thing like that.”

  “That’s not true, Mr. Fenwick. A week ago, someone punctured my brake line while my car was parked in your lot” She fixed her steady gaze on him. “Today, after my exercise class, I took a swim. When I returned to the dressing room, someone attacked me.”

  “You mean someone raped you?”

  “No. He had a knife; I’m sure he intended to k
ill me.”

  Mr. Fenwick leaped to his feet. “I don’t believe it.” He strode the length of the room and came back to glower down at her. “We’ve never had anything like that happen here.”

  Amy stood up. “It’s happening now.”

  Ivan Fenwick crossed his arms over his bulging pectorals. “The sheriff told me the doctor murdered his wife.”

  “Cam Nguyen was in jail when my car was tampered with.”

  “Ah, but he was here today, Doctor.” He spread legs the size of tree trunks, put his hands on his hips and thrust out his jaw. “Maybe he figures you’re messing in matters better left alone.”

  “There was another man here today; the man who was playing handball with the doctor.”

  “You mean Kim Sen. You’re way off base, lady. Kim wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Amy wrote the name in her notebook and studied it for a moment. Where had she heard that name before? “How long has Mr. Sen worked for you?”

  “Eight or nine months.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “He’s a good, reliable worker, gets along with people, and is never late. That’s all I need to know.”

  “What’s the name of the Asian who works nights?”

  “Victor Samphan. He,” He halted abruptly. “Now wait a minute. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

  “We’ve already eliminated your Caucasian employees. If we can do the same with the two Asians, you’re in the clear. Have you had some trouble with Victor?”

  “He’s got a short fuse. Gets mean when he drinks. Knocks his kids and old lady around. He’s been jailed a few times. But I sure as hell don’t think he’d get mixed up in a murder.”

  “I used to work at the crime lab in Seattle. I saw terrible things committed by people who didn’t appear to be the type. Do both of your men have keys to the exit doors of the club?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you give me their addresses?”

  “Well, I might,” Fenwick rubbed the back of his neck and narrowed his eyes at her, “if you agree to forget the assault. Rumors like that can ruin a club.” He smiled and gestured to a chair. “Let’s relax and talk about it.”