“Damn,” Derek said. “That’s one hell of a reaction to peanuts. You really should be more careful about what your morning walk partners carry around in their pockets for snacks.”
Derek heard someone calling to him from down the beach. He looked up; saw an elderly man jogging towards him.
“Heart attack?” the jogging man said.
“Don’t know for sure,” Derek said, as he kneeled beside FJ. “Wondering if he has some peanut allergy. I pulled some out from my pocket. Guess the wind blew some of the peanut dust in his face. He got all red in the face. Jumped in the water to wash off the dust. Went all still.”
“You call 911?” the man, who was now checking FJ’s neck for a pulse, asked.
“Sure did. You a doctor or something?”
“Dentist, but, don’t worry, I’ve had extensive emergency medical training.”
“Good thing. I was starting to think I killed this poor guy.”
Chapter 43
Rachel joined Derek in the hotel’s bar. He was sitting at the far end, working on a double scotch when she walked up, sat down, gestured to the bartender towards Derek’s drink.
“Same as he’s having. And bring him another.”
“Some people think I have a problem, you know? A problem with booze.”
“You don’t seem the type to care what others think about you,” Rachel said, her eyes still yet to meet his. “You think you have a problem? Then stop. If not, let’s have a few drinks together before you leave.”
Derek picked up his glass, rocked the brown liquid back and forth with small turns of his hand.
“Peanuts? You shoved peanuts in FJ’s face?”
“How was I to know he was allergic? Just thought it would be friendly to share.”
“He’s going to press charges, you know?”
“For what? Sharing a snack? Not worried. Not worried at all.”
Rachel laughed. Flashed a smile at Derek.
“So, where did she go?” Derek asked.
The bartender placed Nikkie’s drink in front of her. Put Derek’s “on deck” drink off to his left.
“Doesn’t matter where she went, what matters is where she’s going. And, before you ask, I have no idea. My department put out bulletin to every police force and agency between here and Alaska.”
“Woman like her won’t make a mistake. Won’t get caught on camera at some ATM machine or using a credit card at a Wal-Mart. She started planning this a long time ago. Probably had every step worked out down to the finest detail. Smart woman.”
“When did you know it was Jessica?” Rachel took a small sip of her drink, then winced as the brown liquor assaulted her throat. “How the hell do you drink this crap?”
“One sip at a time.”
Rachel forced a small laugh, then turned in her chair to face Derek.
“Seriously, when did you figure out Jessica was behind everything?”
“I wrote down four initials in my notebook the other night. FJ, JG, BH and MJ. Figured they were the only four who could have killed Sam Gracers. Handed the notebook to Nikkie, asked her to circle the initials of who her gut was telling her was the killer.”
“And she circled Jessica’s initials?”
“Not at first,” Derek answered. “She circled FJ at first, but when you called and told me Hilton was killed, she grabbed the notebook, crossed out FJ’s initials and drew a big circle around JG. I wasn’t sure until I heard what Jackson Trainer told the cops up in Dothan about what he heard when he and Bobby were listening in to Hilton and FJ’s phone conversation.”
“What did he hear them say?”
“One of them, either FJ or Hilton said the ‘sick bitch’ did them a favor by killing Sam. That they didn’t need to worry about Sam going to the authorities about their cancer scams. I spoke with Nikkie right after I subdued Jackson. She told me Jessica had called her, asked her to visit with her at her house. Nikkie also told me she was going to use Maryanne’s spare key to get inside her office to search for any files on Hilton.” Derek shook his head slowly. Took another draw off his drink. “I knew she was in trouble the second the Dothan cop told me what Jackson said.”
Rachel rubbed Derek’s shoulder. Gave it a little squeeze.
“But, I still don’t understand how you figured it was Jessica. Maryanne’s the sick one. ALS, right?”
“When I met with Hilton at his home on Snead, he mentioned both he and Sam suspected Jessica had some mental illness issues. I asked Sam’s lawyer about it, as well. All he could tell me was the main reason Sam was about to file for divorce was something about was Sam believed Jessica was declining mentally.”
“He was filing for divorce because he believed Jessica was sick, mentally.”
“Firmed up everything I was thinking. The details of Jessica’s alibi were my first clue. Either she was telling the truth or she was pretty sick in her head.”
“Or,” Rachel offered, “she really had everything planned down to the smallest detail.”
“Yup,” Derek agreed. “Thought about that, too. Wasn’t certain until I was holding Nikkie as she died.” Derek looked off in some imaginary distance. Saw himself holding Nikkie’s body as she died. Like he was watching the whole scene as a third person. “Nikkie didn’t die right away. She waited for Jessica to leave the office, then wrote the initials ‘JG’ in her own blood.”
“Oh my God,” Rachel offered. “Derek, I’m so sorry.”
“Jessica did plan everything down to the last detail, including how she could get Nikkie to start taking a hard look at Maryanne. Don’t know for sure, but I’d bet my life Nikkie told Jessica she was already planning on breaking into Jenkins’ office. She told Jessica exactly where she’d be. Don’t know how Jessica ambushed her. Nikkie was too good for someone like Jessica to get the upper hand on her. Someone like Jessica Gracers doesn’t think like an assassin. Doesn’t know how to outsmart someone as skilled as Nikkie was.”
“Unless…”
“Unless their minds are all twisted up. I guess whatever Jessica is suffering from gives her the mind of a psychopath. A murderous one, at that.”
Rachel realized her hand was still rubbing Derek’s shoulder. She pulled it back. Rested it on the bar.
“This whole case, we were trying to work out time frames, but we missed the most important one of all.”
Rachel said, “Which time frame are you talking about?”
“Jessica had to wait five days before she could access her husband’s accounts. Sam’s lawyer told us that. Sam set up some legal hold on his ‘private accounts’ that prevented any funds being withdrawn for five days if he died in a suspicious manner. Jessica found that out from Sam’s lawyer. She was sleeping with that scumbag.”
“What?” Rachel snapped. “How the hell do you know that?”
“A comment the lawyer made when Nikkie and I were watching him eat a hundred dollar steak dinner. He said something about just because Jessica was great in the sack must have not been enough for Sam to want to stay married to her. Guys don’t tell their lawyers about how their wives are in bed. He had first hand information. Jessica was sleeping with Peter Maxim, not because she had feelings for the guy, but to get intel on what Sam was planning. Was probably sleeping with the guy for a while.”
“That could cost him his license to practice law,” Rachel said.
“For what? Sleeping with a client’s wife? No way. Plus, Jessica’s gone. She won’t be around to spill the beans on Peter Maxim.”
Rachel looked confused. She was trying to tie everything together. Trying to work out what Derek had already worked out.
“Sorry,” she said. “Still don’t get where you’re going with the five days thing.”
“She waited a full day after killing Sam to give us her alibi. She knew we’d spent at least a day investigating Hilton. She also accused FJ DeNuzzio of murdering Craig Washburn. Figured we’d spend a day looking into his past. She hired Maryanne as her lawyer. She knew we wouldn’t un
derstand why she would hire a lawyer like Maryanne instead of some high-powered law firm. Knew we’d spend some time digging into Maryanne’s past as well. Everything she did was to cause delays before we could take a deep look at her.
“She knew Hilton and FJ were dirty. Knew we’d find enough to keep us interested in them as the suspects. And she knew Maryanne was wrapped up with Hilton and FJ with the bullshit scams they were running. I guarantee she hired Maryanne as a fallback plan. Just in case Nikkie and I didn’t find enough about Hilton or FJ to warrant spending too much time on them. Maryanne was her ace in the hole. She had dirt on Maryanne. Plenty of it. Knew the right time to show Nikkie that dirt. Add the days and time all up and you arrive at five days from the time of the murder to the day before yesterday. Jessica went on the wind on day six.”
Derek looked away, off into a place where regrets and sorrow dominated the scenery.
“So, after five days, Jessica had access to Sam’s accounts. Probably transferred the money from his accounts to some offshore account she had set up. I thought about going to her house. Confronting her, but I figured I had nothing to prove she was guilty. Guarantee you and your department would have found enough evidence given enough time, but all she needed were those five days. I know if I went to Jessica’s instead of going to see FJ, I would have killed her. Be in jail right about now. Only thing I could think of is making sure FJ didn’t beat her to the punch and get all the money from Sam’s private accounts.”
“What do you think will happen with FJ?”
“Nothing,” Derek said in a flat, unemotional tone. “Jackson Trainer will try to work a deal with the cops over the O’Connell murder. Will tell them he has information on FJ DeNuzzio. Problem is, again, the time frame.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Jackson won’t tell the DA up in Dothan anything about FJ till he gets a deal. Probably the deal will be about his brother, Bobby. Jackson will tell the DA everything he knows about FJ, about being hired by FJ to kill Washburn, about hearing the conversation between FJ and Hilton and will tell the DA he’s ready to testify in a court of law against FJ. But not until his brother is given a reduced sentence. Deals like that take time. FJ will find out about Jackson talking about him. Guys like FJ always find out when someone is talking about them. He’ll have plenty of time to make sure the Trainer brothers are taken care of.”
“You think he’ll have them killed? In jail?”
“Happens all the time. Jackson and Bobby Trainer are dead men walking. That’s for damn sure.”
“I’ll call up to Dothan right now. Have them put a guard on both Trainer brothers. No way anyone will be able to get close to them.”
Derek gave a sideways grin to Rachel. Lifted his glass, took another long sip.
“Worth a try, I guess. Won’t do much, though. Guy like FJ DeNuzzio has friends in high places and in low places. One way or another, he’ll walk away clean as a whistle. He’ll recruit replacements for Gracers and Hilton and be back running at full steam within three months. I won’t be around to see it, so I’m hoping you let me know if I’m right.”
“How about the doctor in Tampa? The one you asked to have a Tampa Police car watching over? Think he’ll talk?”
“Probably, but there’s no way in the world he’s ever heard of FJ DeNuzzio. No way. May have known Hilton was behind everything but I’d be willing to bet O’Connell recruited Ruggerio and swore on his life to Hilton that he wouldn’t ever mention names. With O’Connell dead, Ruggerio won’t have any information you can use to pin FJ to the cancer scam.”
“But you thought FJ might have sent one of his hired guns to take out Ruggerio, right?”
“Insurance. The fact the Tampa Police Department told you no one showed up or even looked suspicious around Ruggerio’s house tells me FJ knew the doctor didn’t know about his involvement.”
“Ruggerio has an awful lot of explaining to do. Hope they string him by his balls.”
Derek shrugged his shoulders.
“He’ll get some heat, no doubt about that. But I don’t think he’ll see the inside of a prison cell. I’m sure his lawyers will have a parade of happy and very much alive patients willing to testify what a wonderful doc Ruggerio is. They’ll build some defense about the medical industry is so bogged down with process and regulations, that the only thing Ruggerio is guilty of is not running his own tests on the patients sent to him by O’Connell. He’ll lose his license, maybe, but he won’t be convicted.”
There wasn’t much else for the two to discuss. For the most part, nothing Derek was saying was all that surprising to Rachel. None of his conclusions were asking for an argument. All in all, Rachel felt the entire case was an utter disaster; an embarrassment to the sheriff’s department. If Derek was right, Jessica Gracers had gotten away with two murders and close to two million dollars. FJ DeNuzzio would replace Hilton and Sam Gracers, and be back at earning millions of dollars in a matter of months. Doctor O’Connell was dead and wouldn’t be able to tell his story about how Hilton and FJ had paid him to convince a few of his patients they were dying of cancer and wouldn’t be able to explain how Doctor Ruggerio was involved. Everyone who could have possibly shared information which would have put FJ and Jessica behind bars was dead. Including Nikkie. All dead. All terminally quiet.
Rachel put her hand back on Derek’s shoulder. Dragged her hand back and forth in a small arch.
“Kinda nice area down here, don’t you think? Plenty of business for a freelance detective as good as you. You could do better than okay down here.”
Derek looked at the drink in his hands. Rocked the ice against the sides of the glass a couple times.
“Probably right,” he said. “And thanks for the compliment. But I have unfinished business with Jessica Gracers I need to take care of.”
“Derek,” Rachel said, “as good as you are, finding Jessica will be impossible. You going to spend your life chasing after her?”
“Not exactly. Just can’t be tied to one location. I’ll keep doing what I do best and will keep looking for Jessica when I’m not working a case.”
“You can do that from here just as well as you can do it from Ohio. Better weather down here. And, who knows, other opportunities may present themselves.”
Derek turned to face Rachel. Almost moved in close to her, when he saw the hotel’s front desk attendant walking towards him.
“Mr. Cole?” the desk attendant asked.
“Yup.”
“A woman dropped off a package for you yesterday. Gave us specific instructions not to deliver it to you at this exact time today. She said it’s a birthday present for you. Happy birthday,” the attendant said as he handed over a box wrapped in colorful paper. The carefully wrapped present was the size, weight and feel of a book.
Derek took the box, laid in on the bar in front of him.
“What the hell is that?” Rachel asked. “It’s your birthday today?”
“Nope. Not for a few more weeks.”
“Then, what’s this about?”
“It’s from Jessica,” he said. “Guarantee it. Part of her game plan.”
Rachel’s eyes darted back and forth to the Derek, to the package, back again. Over and over.
“You going to open the damn thing or do I have to do it?
“Figured you’d say it’s evidence. Tell me not to touch it,” Derek said as he drained the last bit of his scotch.
Rachel picked up the present, tore off the wrappings.
Beneath the wrapping paper was a paperback book. Lee Child. “One Shot. Jack Reacher novel.” Looked to be brand new. Binding free of any wrinkles or creases. This was book Jessica said she and Hilton used to pass notes back and forth to each other. At the book’s halfway mark, there was a note sticking out through the top pages.
Rachel placed the book onto the bar, flipped it open to where the note was waiting. She rubbed her hands vigorously against her thighs before pulling the notebook-sized piece of paper free from the b
ook.
“What the hell?” Rachel said as she noticed a small, yellowish pill taped to the bottom part of the note. The pill was round, made Derek think of the aspirin his mother used to give him when he had a headache and was busy trying to convince her he was too sick to go to school.
Rachel pealed the tape off, freeing the pill.
“You read the note,” she said, handing the single slip of paper to Derek. “I’m going to find out what kind of pill this is.”
Before he began reading the note, Derek waved to the bartender.
“I guess I need a birthday drink,” he said. “She’s paying for this one,” he said, nodding his head towards Rachel.
There were two double scotches, both sitting on napkins, in front of Derek and Rachel as Derek began to quietly read the note aloud.
“Derek, Just a quick note to say ‘Thank You.’ Actually, thank you a hundred and eighty-five million times! Very sorry about your partner but the way she was looking at me the last time we were together got me concerned. You understand. Nothing personal.
“Things didn’t go exactly as I had planned but, in the end, all worked out. You gave me the five days I needed. For that, I owe you my gratitude. Your final payment can be found on Anna Maria Island. Tucked beside another copy of this book. It will be on the top shelf of that little community library. Just like the one on Snead Island. Better hurry on down there before another Lee Child fan makes off with ten grand in cash.
“You were right on the money about Tom Cruise being entirely wrong to play the part of Jack Reacher. What was it you said? Five foot seven actor playing a six-five character?
“Again, thank you and I am sorry about your partner. Had to be done.
“JG
“PS. I won’t be needing my pills any longer. Not that I ever needed them even while I was taking them. Doctors? Who can trust them? But of course, I think you’ve learned that after this case.”
Deathly Reminders: a Derek Cole Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thrillers Book 6) Page 26