Was she coming to a correctional facility high? That was the only reason for her making such a ludicrous statement.
“I know. I’m just fuckin’ with you.” She laughed and sat back, relaxed in the chair. “But that is the story I gave the cops when they interviewed me. You know, just planting some seeds to grow. And, if this went to court, I would have testified to that on the stand. Can you imagine what the press would have done with that tidbit of information?”
I was stunned. This was worse than I’d even thought. No one ever questioned me about the truthfulness of that statement she’d made. Everyone must have believed it was true.
“Well, look, Alex, I have little time, so here’s the story. I did it. I killed Samantha,” she said as calm as could be. As if she had just told me she had rolled the trash to the curb for pickup.
Suddenly, black feathers tickled around my vision, and my head felt light. My ears roared as if the ocean were pounding inside them, and my hands shook.
She studied me and waited until she was certain I could focus on what she had to say. I heard her say, “Now, pay attention, Alex,” but it sounded like it was coming through an echo chamber.
She lightly slapped the table twice to get my full attention. When my eyes met hers, she continued, “Samantha told me how she wanted to give a portion of the inheritance to me and Ashton after she was awarded the whole thing. She said you called it winner’s guilt,” Marley said. “Except for the paintings. Those were to go on display at various museums. But the money from the house would be put in a trust for us.”
I remembered saying that when she was in a vulnerable spot. Yes, I clearly remembered the entire conversation.
“And she listened to you. For a long time. I’ll bet you didn’t know she kept in touch with me and gave me money from time to time,” she offered.
No, I’d had no idea. I’d thought Marley was out of our lives and living off the men she dated, as she always did.
“Then, she found out about the affairs. So many affairs. Some of them even called to shake her down for money. Can you believe that? And you know what, Alex? One day, out of the clear blue, she called me up and said she had had it with you. No, she didn’t want to divorce you, but she was ready to sell the house and would give us our share. She didn’t care what you said. Finally, the house was going up for sale, and we would have our just due. As a bonus, I could have my two paintings, and Ashton would have enough to pay off his creditors and start a new life,” Marley said, sitting forward.
“You’re full of shit. She knew nothing of my affairs,” I said smugly.
“Yeah, you thought you were so smart. But, really, not so much. That was always your downfall—being arrogant and cocky. An arrogant bastard. Did you even realize she’d hired a private investigator to follow you and Marissa Adams? Yeah, she saw the texts between you two and got suspicious. And, although she wasn’t ready to divorce you, she wanted to punish you. You know Sam, always passive-aggressive. So, this would be her punishment. She would give us the money you didn’t want us to have,” Marley said with a satisfied smile.
Oh my God, she had known all along. And confided in Marley. What the hell had she been thinking?
“So, that night, when you were away for your depositions, the private investigator followed you. He saw you and that woman you shacked up with for the night,” she said. “Snapped a few pictures and sent them to Sam.”
“Wait, you’re telling me, someone is out there who could have given me an alibi, and no one came forward?” I asked. Anger built, and my head pulsated.
“Well, sort of. But not really. Because he’s dead. A tragic event, he was involved in a mugging gone wrong,” Marley said and waved her hand in a dismissive manner, as if this were just irrelevant information at this point.
“She called me to come over and see the pictures. So, that night, I was flying, too much Molly and booze. You know how I get,” she confessed, shaking her head as if to reprimand herself.
“I know I shouldn’t get high out of my mind and drive. Trust me; those days are over. Anyway, in my mind, she said for me to come to the house and get the paintings. But that might have just been the cocktail of drugs talking. Nonetheless, I went to the house to claim my paintings. I still had the backup code and let myself in. I had just taken the Freud down and was figuring the best way to get the two paintings out to my car when Samantha came down. She’d taken one of those Ambien pills for sleep, and she was in a foggy, confused state,” Marley said as she leaned forward into my space as if to tell me a secret.
Yes, she had become addicted to those sleeping pills, and sometimes, the reaction she had wasn’t a good one.
“She saw what was going on and must have forgotten that she’d said I could come and claim my property. Or maybe I’d made that up in my head, thanks to the drugs.
“Next thing I knew, she came at me like a crazy person to stop me from taking what was mine. Well, that was not happening. The paintings were down, ready to go, and so was I. It all happened so fast. I saw her coming at me, and before I knew it, the lamp was in my hand, and—WHACK—it connected with her head. There was blood flying across the wall, and she went down,” she said.
She looked as if she was replaying this in her head and telling it to me as if it were some movie she had just seen.
“Why didn’t you call for help, you crazy bitch?” I whispered.
“Are you nuts? If I had, I’d be sitting where you are, only in a women’s prison. And, Alex, I would not do well in prison.” She stopped for a few moments.
“So, killing someone can sober you up pretty quickly. Take it from me.” She laughed.
I pushed back from the table. “I’ve heard enough,” I said. And I had.
“Oh no, the best part is coming. I see you’re anxious, so I’ll move this along. I paced and worried and asked God for help. Isn’t that hilarious, Alex? Me asking God for help. Then, it came to me as a flash of inspiration. All this could be mine. Everything. The only thing I had to overcome was you inheriting it all. See where I’m going here, Alex?”
And I did. I saw it clear as day.
“You had to cover the blood on the wall. I’m sure you were in no state to drive into town to get the paint. How did you get the paint so quickly?” I asked.
I hated to admit it, but she had me. I had to know everything.
“Now, that was again sheer otherworld intervention. When I dragged her body down to the wine cellar, I saw a can of unopened paint and rollers sitting right there, in the middle of the room. Can you believe it? She must have had painters ready to freshen up that room for the sale. And I realized God was saying there was no use in letting that paint go to waste. So, I took it upstairs, and it took me about forty minutes to paint that wall. When I left, I took the paint with me,” she said.
If no one had started the work in the cellar, then no one would know the paint was there. And, if there was only one wall to paint, it could be done in a short time. Even given two coats.
“How did you move the paintings to the panic room with no cameras picking you up?” I asked.
“So many times, I watched Sam put the code in to disable them that I just popped that sucker in. Grandfather had taught us all how to arm and reset the panic room.” She smiled.
“The text message for me to go to the cellar?” I asked because this one was killing me.
“A disappearing text app. There’s an app for everything, right?” She laughed, and it sent a shiver across my arms.
“Marissa in with the paintings?”
“Photoshop.” She nodded with a smug expression.
“No way. The police techs would have determined that,” I challenged.
“Well, yeah, maybe—if you had gone to trial and your attorney challenged the evidence. But, now, it’s just in some evidence box on a flash drive that no one cares about. Right?” she said.
This psycho had an answer for everything.
“Marissa?”
“Before
the private investigator became a victim of that tragic mugging, he found out about your little side-business venture with the late Marissa Adams. I met her and offered to keep your little secret for a slight remuneration,” she said.
“Extortion. Blackmail,” I responded.
“Such ugly words.” She laughed. “But basically. She refused, and it angered me.”
All the pieces fit. Every single one.
“Why? Why frame me?” I finally asked.
“Well, Alex, you got too greedy. If you had let Sam do what her heart told her to do, she wouldn’t be dead. And let’s face it; once she was declared dead, you’d inherit everything if they didn’t find a will. And, as slick as you are, they never would find a will.
“Now, we all know, if someone kills another person, even in a fit of anger, then they most certainly may not profit for their misdeed. So, once you were convicted, through the laws of inheritance, everything would come to me and Ashton,” she replied in an almost-bored tone.
The drug-addicted psychopath had outwitted all of us.
“So, the insurance company was happy to close the case. Once you pled guilty, the state had no use for the paintings as evidence, and they were returned to Ashton and me. And you’ll be happy to know, they are being auctioned off. We will have to sell the house for a song because of the death associated with it, but we can take the hit. And, now, I’m on my way to a new life out of this country. But I wanted you to have closure.” She smiled.
“What’s stopping me from telling the police what you just said?”
“Go ahead. Who cares? You’ll never be allowed to withdraw your plea. And an uncorroborated confession is worthless. Now, I don’t feel too bad for you. You still have those offshore accounts you had with Marissa that the cops didn’t find. There’s not a fortune in there but enough for a new life when you get out and finish parole,” she said.
She was right on all accounts.
“So, that’s it, Alex. Good talk,” she said, standing up.
“Wait. Where are you going?” I asked.
“A place you’ll never find me,” she said.
And, with that, she turned and left me facing a twisted judgment.
Dalia
This was my last day in the US for the next two months. With Mary’s and Tyler’s help, I had been able to get approval from the school to complete my practicum in Rome. When I returned, I’d be awarded my degree. This was so exciting. I’d not only have experience on the national front, but international as well.
Diana had also made similar arrangements with her school to spend a semester abroad. She would be there in Rome with me and a month after I left. Everything had worked out perfectly, and there was not a hitch in our plans.
Before I left, Cillian asked to see me, and I had a pretty good idea what he wanted. But my mind was made up. I had to see Alex before I left.
“Dalia, I really don’t think it’s wise to visit Alex in jail,” Cillian said.
“That’s why I’m going with her,” Mary said.
“Sweet Mary, mother of God. That’s all we need. Clarke’s head will explode when he sees you,” Jackson said, pointing to Mary.
“Cillian, I’m getting ready to leave for two months of training in Rome. By the time I get back, he’ll have been shipped somewhere that will be difficult for me to get in to see him. I have questions,” I said.
“All right. I see I can’t do anything to change your mind. Diana and Tyler are in Paris for a few weeks already and doing the museum rounds. She said she’ll meet you at the apartment in Rome, and if you get there before her, just do what you want; she has a key. She’s a good kid; take care of her. Tyler said he’s made arrangements with you, and he’ll pick you up and take you to the company he arranged your training with. I want reports on your progress with the cybersecurity training,” Cillian said.
“I don’t know why Diana is going to Rome,” Jackson said.
“Don’t be a blockhead. There’s a spark between Diana and Tyler. Plus, she needs to complete a semester abroad. Two birds, one stone. Get with it, Jackie boy,” Mary said. “Now, let’s go. We have a plane to catch right after this visit.”
I had already said my good-bye to Declan, and he’d arranged for a three-week leave to visit me when I was overseas. A long-distance, budding relationship was a long shot, but I felt we had staying power.
We arrived at the jail’s parking facility and made our way toward the front doors.
“Mary, do you see that blonde woman ahead?” I pointed.
She nodded.
“That looks like Marley. What is she doing here? More importantly, why does she look so put together and different?” I asked. “And what’s up with the blonde hair?”
Marley held Mary’s stare and met it with her own. When they were about two feet apart, Mary stopped, and Marley did the same in response.
“I know you did it, and I’m not done with you,” Mary said.
THE END
THREE: Deception Love Murder
TWO: Mind Games and Murder
ONE: Rage Vengeance Murder
THE LAST LIE SHE TOLD
Kathleen McGillick is a practicing attorney who sorts through the pieces of people’s lives much like a puzzle master. Each piece carefully placed makes up the whole of this unique person. Who is this person? What drives them? What makes them tick? What are their deepest secrets and unspoken fears? No surprise she ended up writing a legal thriller!
Why and how people commit crimes has always held an interest for her and that is reflected in her latest novel.
Kathleen grew up in New York and has lived in Georgia for thirty-three years. She has enjoyed a career in nursing as well as the law. After obtaining a Bachelor of Science degree in Nursing, and a Master of Science degree in Nursing she set out fifteen years later to obtain her Juris Doctorate. This varied education and experience helped mold the eclectic writer she is today.
She considers herself a global citizen and an avid international traveler. With her son in tow as an early travel companion she has visited over eighteen countries in the last twenty years. Some cities like Paris, London and Rome deserving multiple returns. A pilgrimage to London at least every two years is a must to keep her batteries charged and give her the history fix she craves. In her spare time, you can find a book in her hand or wandering through an art museum. Kathleen is a mother and grandmother as well as the food lady to her cats and any wild life that wanders to her porch.
CONNECT WITH K. J. MCGILLICK
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Facing A Twisted Judgment Page 22