That Which Was Lost

by Samantha Price

  Ettie gasped. “That’s a lot of money.”

  “He said that he inherited $500,000. That’s how much he had when we married. The rest, he saved.”

  “Can you check your account now?” Crowley asked.

  Myra nodded. “I’ve got my laptop in the car.”

  “Go check it please, Myra,” Crowley said.

  Myra left to check her bank account while the widows and Crowley talked.

  “So they look very similar do they, this Aiden and Preston?”

  “Appears so,” Crowley said scratching his chin. “And similar to Peter.”

  “What do you mean? Are these three people all the one person?” Elsa-May asked.

  “Who was Myra’s husband then?” Emma asked.

  Before Crowley could say more, Myra came back into the house. “I’m not able to access my account anymore. It tells me I’m using the wrong password.”

  The widows gasped.

  Ettie rushed to her side. “Sit down. He or someone must have changed the password.”

  “I’ll take you to the bank tomorrow, Myra. No use jumping to conclusions until we know for certain,” Crowley said.

  Myra nodded. “Now, I’m worried. My credit card didn’t work the other day, I just thought it was a problem at the mechanic’s end.”

  “It’s looking like this Aiden character was posing as Peter,” Crowley said. “Not only that, he framed Preston to make it look like he was a bigamist.”

  “Surely you’re jumping to too many conclusions,” Ettie said.

  “But the DNA match, Detective,” Maureen said.

  Elsa-May said, “I thought it funny that everything was gone except the toothbrush for a convenient DNA match to Preston Judge and the golf club for the fingerprints.”

  “Peter planted Preston’s toothbrush?” Silvie asked.

  “That would fit what has happened,” Crowley said.

  “So Aiden was posing as Peter, killed Preston and made it look like Preston and Peter were the same person? And then Aiden disappeared?”

  “Not only that,” Crowley said. “We don’t know who Aiden Addison is; he was using the identity of someone who died years ago.”

  The widows gasped.

  “So you’re chasing ghosts?” Silvie asked.

  “Seems so,” Crowley said. “Aiden or I should say the man posing as Aiden, tried to construct the perfect crime. It seems Preston was never a bigamist. I’d say that Aiden has posed as Peter Davis and had been siphoning money from Preston Judge’s company for years.”

  “Do you think that Aiden killed Preston?” Emma asked.

  “There’s no proof of that as yet, but it would be difficult to find someone who doesn’t exist,” Detective Crowley said. “Peter doesn’t officially exist, and neither does Aiden.”

  “You say Aiden Addison was Preston’s assistant, then tried to make it look like Preston was a bigamist posing as Peter, and someone murdered Preston?” Maureen asked.

  “Seems so.” Crowley scratched his head.

  “But if Aiden Addison didn’t exist, how could Aiden hold down a job if he didn’t really exist and didn’t have a social security number?” Myra asked.

  “According to the Randallston police, he was using the social security information of someone who had died. Government agencies don’t routinely cross check social security numbers for death certificates if someone applies for a passport, life insurance or the like. This Aiden fellow was using the identity of someone born in 1919. For some reason, he found it convenient to keep some money in your name, Myra.”

  Myra rose to her feet. “I’m sorry, I’ve got a bad headache. I need to go to bed.”

  Crowley leaped to his feet. “You okay, Myra?”

  She shook her head. “I need to sleep.” Myra walked out of the room.

  When Myra was out of the room, Silvie said, “I feel sorry for Myra. She just got used to the idea of her husband being Preston Judge, a bigamist, and now no one is quite sure who he was.”

  “Could he still be alive?” Maureen whispered.

  “It seems more than likely that Peter was this Aiden character, and he had this planned for a long time,” Crowley said.

  “Is that unusual detective? This man would have been living a lie for over ten years. If he was posing as Aiden Addison why add another identity, the Peter Davis identity?”

  Crowley shook his head. “He could have had several identities. I’ve read of cases like this one in the Police Journals. Anyway, the Randallston police checked out the residential address Aiden had given his employer and found that it’s an abandoned warehouse.”

  * * *

  Crowley was there right on nine o’clock the next morning to take Myra to the bank. Myra checked her account to find that there was no money. Not only was there no money, just over one million dollars had been deposited and withdrawn on the day of Preston Judge’s funeral.

  Crowley ushered a crying Myra out of the bank. “I thought at least he wanted me to be comfortable, and now I have nothing. He wouldn’t let me work, so now I have no job to go to.”

  Crowley’s hand rested on her elbow as they walked. He had no idea what to say to her. “I’m sorry, Myra. I don’t know how someone could do this to you. Do you want to go back to your mother’s place now?”

  Myra took a tissue out of her handbag and dabbed at her eyes. “I want you to find him, Ronald.”

  “I’ll do my best. I’ll take you back to your mother’s and tell the others working on the case what we’ve discovered about the money. Is there anything you might be able to tell me about Peter? Anything you can think of that might be relevant?”

  Myra rubbed her forehead. “No, I can’t think of anything that I haven’t already told you.”

  “You still have the house, don’t you?” Crowley asked.

  Myra nodded. “I still have my house. I’m glad he didn’t touch that.”

  Crowley took Myra back to Ettie’s house. Myra sat around the kitchen table with Crowley, Ettie and Elsa-May.

  “Why don’t we hatch a plot to trap him? Plant a trap, or whatever the term is,” Ettie said.

  “I’m listening.” Elsa-May leaned toward Ettie.

  Ettie’s lips turned down. “That’s all I’ve got so far.”

  Crowley put his hands up. “I do like discussing and brain-storming with you ladies. You do come up with some good ideas, but that’s where it must stop.” He looked at Ettie. “No plans to trap anyone, please.”

  Ettie narrowed her eyes at Crowley and pressed her lips together.

  Elsa-May sighed. “He must have left a clue somewhere. Can you think of something he might have said about his past, Myra? A place, a name or anything that might help?”

  “I can’t think of anything. We don’t even know for sure if Peter was Preston or whether he was this Aiden fellow.” Myra put her head in her hands. “Why did I get that letter from Preston’s lawyer in Peter’s handwriting? Nothing makes sense. I need to lie down.” Ettie ushered Myra into her bedroom to lie down then Ettie came back to join Elsa-May and the detective.

  “Can we trace him through the bank? Would he have gone into the bank, or did he transfer the money electronically?” Elsa-May asked the detective.

  “Would he be leaving the country?” Ettie asked.

  “The funds were transferred electronically. He might leave the country or might have already left. There are hundreds of ways he could leave the country and without a name, we’re powerless to stop him.” Crowley was quiet and rubbed his chin for a moment. “He can change his name, but it’s not so easy to change one’s personality.”

  “What are you thinking, Crowley?” Elsa-May asked.

  “What were his interests? We might be able to track the man down that way. Maybe he had an unusual hobby?” Crowley raised his eyebrows waiting for a reply.

  “I don’t know. Myra never mentioned such a thing,” Ettie said.

  “Well, we have nothing else to go on. I’ll ask the police from Randallston what the
y know about Aiden Addison. If they can’t come up with anything, I might have to make another trip to Randallston to see what I can uncover. Maybe I’ll should take a look around Myra’s house.” Crowley rubbed his chin again. “I’m sure Myra holds a clue in her mind somewhere. She must know where he’d go or what he’d do. He couldn’t keep his defenses up for ten whole years. He must’ve let something slip.”

  * * *

  Ettie went to speak to Myra, who was lying on her bed.

  “I heard them, Mamm. And I can’t think of anything; I can’t think where he’d be.”

  Ettie sat on the side of the bed. “Did he ever mention places he’d like to go or places he’d visited?”

  Myra sat up. “Make me a cup of tea? I’ll think about it while you’re gone.”

  “Okay,” Ettie said as she stood up. “Just relax and something will come to you.”

  “Yeah, no pressure,” Myra said under her breath. “Mamm, tomorrow I’ll go home. I need sort my life out.” Myra was grateful to everyone trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, but she just wanted to forget everything for just a moment. While she was staying with her mother and her aunt, she knew she wouldn’t be able to escape the constant pressure and questions.

  Chapter 13.

  Be strong and of a good courage, fear not,

  nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God,

  he it is that doth go with thee;

  he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.

  Deuteronomy 3:16

  Myra unlocked her front door and stepped into her house. She knew she would never feel comfortable there again. At least the house was in her name, so she could sell it and buy something smaller. Even though it was comforting to have her mother and aunt Elsa-May around, Myra was glad to get back to her microwave, air-conditioning and the television. She set her handbag down on the hall-table by the front door and headed to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

  After she had taken a deep breath of the fresh coffee beans she ground, Myra felt a chill down her back and turned around. Peter stood in front of her. She swallowed hard. “Who are you?”

  He frowned at her and took a step toward her without a hint of expression on his face. “Don’t you know your own husband?”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “That’s what I wanted everyone to think. Come away with me, Myra.” He took another step toward her and pulled her roughly into his arms.

  She sank into his familiar chest for a moment before she pushed him away. “Stop it. Who are you? Preston or Aiden?”

  A smirk tickled at his lips. “Ah, I see. They know about Aiden. They’re smarter than I gave them credit for.”

  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Do you love me, Myra?”

  “I loved Peter, but I don’t know who you are anymore. Tell me what’s happening?”

  “I had to do it for the money, so we could get away from here and be comfortable. I couldn’t tell you what I was doing. You would’ve found some reason to disagree.”

  Myra rubbed her eyes. “But you don’t exist. Peter Davis doesn’t exist. I know your birth certificate’s not real. Who are you?”

  He smirked. “What does a name matter?”

  “It matters to me. I don’t know who you are.”

  “You lived with me for ten years; you know who I am. Come away with me quickly. I’ve got flights booked for us.”

  Myra looked down at the ground. “This can’t be happening,” she murmured. She looked up at Peter. “You wanted me to think you were Preston?”

  “Only until I came to get you, and here I am. I do share an uncanny resemblance to Preston. I worked for him for a while watching his crooked deals before I decided to get some for myself. His accounting system was horrendous; I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “Myra, Myra, Myra. Of course, I had to kill him for my plan to work. I did it for you.”

  “For me?” Myra fumbled in her pocket to make sure her cell phone was still there. “What was your plan? But first tell me your real name.”

  “My real name isn’t important. I’ve had so many names I barely remember who I am.” Peter laughed.

  “Tell me what you did - your plan.”

  “We don’t have much time, I’ll tell you on the way to the airport.”

  Myra walked over to a loveseat in the hallway and sat down. “Tell me.”

  He sat next to her. “I’ll tell you, only if you promise you’ll come with me.”

  Myra nodded. She needed to have him tell her, so she could tell Crowley.

  “I was working for Judge a little before I met you at that gallery. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you.” He ran his hand over her hair. “You’ve got the face of an angel and I’m a sucker for a blonde. I knew I was going to take Judge down at some point, so I kept you away from it by taking on a different identity and letting you think that I worked elsewhere.”

  “So …” Myra sobbed into a tissue she had drawn from her pocket. “You really loved me?”

  “Never stopped.”

  “How did the lawyer send me that letter?” Myra dabbed at her eyes.

  “I was Preston’s executive assistant. I did everything for him. He asked me to hand deliver documents to his lawyer.” He scoffed. “One was a letter to his no good son apologizing for harsh treatment, to be sent to Oscar in the event of Preston’s death.”

  “You read them?”

  “Of course, and replaced the letter with a letter to you, from Preston.” Peter laughed. “That was the best part of my plan. I came up with a plan so Aiden could disappear and so could Peter Davis. They’d never be able to find Aiden - the real Aiden Addison died years ago, and I had them think that Peter Davis was Preston.”

  “Why did you have to involve Peter Davis? Couldn’t Aiden have just quit and no one would have ever known about the identity of Peter Davis?”

  Peter shook his head. “I had to make it look like Preston was killed by one of his family. He didn’t get on with Oscar or his wife. His brother-in-law is a known felon so the police would have looked in every direction other than Aiden Addison. Do you see?”

  “I guess, but why keep up the charade for ten whole years?”

  “Three million reasons, Myra. Three million, two hundred, and thirty reasons, to be exact. Besides, we had a comfortable life didn’t we?” Peter stood and dragged Myra to her feet. “Let’s go. I’ve got a car parked around the corner. There’s no need to pack we can buy everything you need.”

  Myra pulled away from him. “I’m sorry, Peter, I can’t go with you.”

  Peter’s face stiffened. “You said you would go with me if I told you what happened.”

  She stepped away from him. “I’ll give you half an hour to get away before I call the police.”

  “No, Myra.”

  Myra took two steps further away. “I can’t go with you, Peter. What you did was wrong.”

  “I can’t leave you here to tell the police about me. Surely you can’t be that stupid, Myra.”

  His eyes glistened with evil. Myra turned and ran up the stairs toward her bedroom. She pulled the cell out of her pocket as she ran and pressed Crowley’s number on speed dial. Peter lunged for the phone and knocked it out of her hands. Myra got into the bedroom and shut the door, but before she could lock it, he kicked the door open. Screaming, Myra ran into her open closet as he tackled her and knocked her off her feet landing on top of her.

  “I’m sorry it had to end this way, but you’re mucking up my plan.” He put both hands around her neck.

  A loud crash came from downstairs. “Police.”

  Peter sprang to his feet while pulling a small gun from his pocket. He ran from Myra.

  “He’s got a gun,” Myra yelled in fright.

  Five gunshots rang out. Myra held her breath unable to move. She closed her eyes hoping someone hadn’t just died in her house. Myra heard footsteps up the stairs and they got loude
r as they came toward her. Was it Peter coming to finish her off? Keeping her eyes tightly shut, she prayed for the first time in years. When she opened her eyes, she saw Crowley standing over her.

  “Myra? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m all right.” She put her hand out to Crowley, and he pulled her up. “Did you shoot him?”

  Crowley shook his head. “He got out the back door, but I had two cars follow me here. They’ll pick him up.”

  Myra sank into Crowley’s arms and he held her tight as she sobbed. “How did you know he’d be here?”

  “Gut instinct. I had a feeling he might reach out to you. Ten years is a long time to be with someone, and if he were as controlling as you say, he wouldn’t like to let go of the control that easily.”

  Myra sobbed.

  “You’re safe now, Myra. You’re safe.” Crowley’s cell phone buzzed, and he drew it out of his pocket with one hand, the other was holding onto Myra. “Yep?”

  “Got him,” the voice bellowed from the other end of the phone.

  “Good; take him to the station. I’ll be right behind you.” Crowley pushed the cell phone back into his pocket.

  “I don’t have to go too, do I?”

  “Not today. I’ll take you back to your mother’s before I head to the station.”

  On the way back to Ettie’s house, Myra told him everything that the man, she had known as Peter, had told her. “I still don’t know his real name. He never told me that.”

  “I don’t think it should matter to you what his real name is. We’ll run his fingerprints, but as far as you’re concerned, you know he’s not a person to be trusted. Over the past years, according to the auditors of Preston Judge’s business, three and a half million dollars is unaccounted for.”

  Myra nodded.

  Crowley glanced over at her. “You’ve been through some terrible times.”

  “I thought he was missing, then I was made to believe he was Preston, then found he might still be alive and possibly posing as Aiden.” Myra sniffled. “Then he tried to kill me.”

  “It’s amazing what people will do for money. Stay with your mother for a while then sell the house and make a fresh start.”