by Kira Chase
“Do you think Chelsea will come home for Cassandra’s funeral?”
Fresh tears welled up in Bailey’s eyes. “I honestly don’t know.”
Frankie picked up the box of tissues and handed it to her. “Was Cassandra in touch with Chelsea after Chelsea left?”
Bailey met her eyes. “Cassandra said she’d received a few letters from Chelsea, postmarked from California, but with no return address. This was shortly before her parents died. Supposedly Chelsea had cleaned up her act. But she was adamant that she’d never forgive her parents for tossing her out.”
“Do you know what name Chelsea is using, assuming she did marry?”
She shrugged again. “I have no idea.” She looked at them as she grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes. “I wish I could be of more help. I won’t rest until the monster who killed her is caught and put away for good.”
“Did her general attitude change in any way before she switched to nights?” Johanna asked. “Did she seem upset?”
“Now that you mention it she did.” Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t have the right to pry, but I think she was having problems with Graham. She said I shouldn’t worry if I didn’t see her for a while because she might be taking a trip. So you can imagine my surprise when she began coming in at night.”
“Was that the last time you spoke to her?”
She looked at Johanna. “Yes,” she sniffed.
Frankie handed her a business card. “If you remember anything else, please get in touch with us.”
Bailey studied the card. “I will, but I’ve told you everything I know.”
* * * *
Back in the car, Frankie turned to Johanna. “This is making less sense by the minute. According to Bailey, Cassandra was devoted to Graham.”
“And Graham believes she was cheating on him.”
“What do we have?” Johanna asked.
“Not much. Since Cassandra is dead our work for Graham McHenry is technically over.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I can tell by the look in your eye that it’s not. What do you have up your sleeve?”
“I won’t rest until I find out who was driving Cassandra’s car last night. Let’s go see Graham McHenry,” Johanna said. “Something is definitely not right.”
Chapter 3
Graham McHenry paced back and forth across his spacious living room floor, stopping every few seconds to peer out of the window. “The sheriff and his deputies are still combing the grounds. I don’t know what they think they’re going to find since Cassandra was murdered at the motel. Maybe it’s time George Ryker retired.”
“Whoever killed Cassandra may have gotten onto the grounds and left a crucial piece of evidence,” Frankie said. “Sheriff Ryker is a good man…give him a chance. He’s going to leave no stone unturned until he finds out who murdered your wife.”
He scowled. “No one can get through the gate without being admitted or having the code. I spent a fortune having that thing installed.” He let the heavy drape drop. “There’s nothing here.”
“Nothing’s impossible,” Johanna stated matter-of-factly. “You hear every day about so called iron-clad security codes being hacked into. Or maybe someone you’d given the code to memorized it.”
“No, that’s not likely. Anyone who came or went had to be buzzed through. The code wasn’t given out to just anyone.” He dropped his arms limply to his sides. “Let’s talk in the family room. This room is too depressing…it was Cassandra’s favorite room.”
They followed him through the enormous house to a bright sunny room in the back. The sliding glass door encompassed almost the entire back wall and looked out on a sprawling lawn, beautifully landscaped with small gardens and intimate sitting areas.
“Do you know of anyone who had a vendetta against your wife?” Frankie asked.
“Maybe whomever she was fucking,” he stated bitterly.
Frankie glanced at Johanna.
Johanna arched an eyebrow. “That doesn’t make sense.”
McHenry walked to an oversized cream-colored leather chair and sat. “It makes perfect sense!” He lowered his eyes. “I couldn’t be the man she wanted so she became involved with Nicholas Bower, a punk from Riley’s Gym. She was infatuated with him.” He sighed. “That’s all she talked about. Nick this and Nick that.” He raised his eyes. “I couldn’t prove anything, of course, so that’s why I hired you two.”
Johanna wrote down the name then looked at Frankie. Frankie saw the familiar look in her eyes. She wasn’t buying any of it. “And now I assume our services are no longer needed,” she replied. “We’ll print out our report and our expenses and get that and your refund to you later today.”
“Hold off on that for now. I may still require your services.”
“Could I ask you a question?” Frankie studied him.
“Of course.”
“Where were you last night?”
He glared at her. “I told you where I’d be and that’s where I was.”
His cold eyes unnerved her. “I’m just covering all the bases.”
“And I’m not one of them. I was in New York on a business trip.” He angrily pulled some receipts from his breast coat pocket and thrust them at her. “I got the first flight back this morning. Due to foggy conditions I couldn’t get one back last night. You can check with the airport if you don’t believe me.”
Frankie passed the receipts to Johanna who took her time scrutinizing each one.
“Look, I initially hired you two to follow my wife.” He cleared his throat. “Now I want you to find out who murdered her.”
“The sheriff’s department is handling the investigation.”
He laughed sarcastically. “I’m the first one on their list.”
“That’s standard procedure. But you needn’t worry since you have an iron-clad alibi,” Johanna said, passing the receipts back to him.
“We do have a problem, though,” Frankie stated.
He looked quizzically at her. “What?”
“The woman we tailed last night either wasn’t Cassandra or the body in the motel room isn’t hers.”
“I identified the body this morning. It was my wife. There was nothing left of her beautiful face. She had a scar and a small tattoo on her thigh.” He shuddered and his voice broke. His shoulders slumped as he covered his face with his hands and sobbed.
Frankie walked over to where Johanna was sitting on one of two matching long cream-colored leather couches. “Then who the hell were we tailing?” She seated herself next to Johanna and looked at the grieving man. “Why didn’t you tell us your wife had a twin? Is her sister Chelsea in town? Was she driving Cassandra’s Porsche?”
Graham removed a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. “I didn’t tell you about Chelsea because she’s not a part of our lives. I haven’t seen her in years. As for Cassandra’s car, it’s parked in the garage.”
“We followed the car to The Overlook Motel and then to Riley’s Gym. When we followed her back here, there’s no way she could have gotten back to the motel if the time of death that the coroner listed is correct.”
Graham blew his nose again. “I wasn’t here. Maybe someone stole the car.”
Johanna caught Frankie’s eye. “How could someone break in when you have such a tight security system?”
He looked at her evenly. “As you stated a few minutes ago, maybe someone did have the code. For all I know maybe Cassandra gave the code to her lover so he could meet her here when I was out of town on business, which I frequently am.”
“The woman driving the car looked like Cassandra. If Chelsea’s here, then no problem.”
“She’s not here and there still is a problem. Cassandra is dead.”
* * * *
Sheriff George Ryker hefted his abundant body out of his chair, walked over to the coffee maker, and poured three cups of coffee.
Johanna crossed her long legs and stared thoughtfully at his back. His shoulders were stooped and the wisps of silvery gray hair sticking out on
the back of his head attested to the fact that he was long overdue for a haircut. “Is Graham McHenry a suspect?” she asked.
He picked up two cups of coffee, brought them back to his desk and set them down. He walked back to the table which the coffee maker occupied and retrieved his cup, a large handful of sugar packets, and several packets of non-dairy creamers. He set the items on his desk and then sat down.
The women leaned forward and added cream and sugar to their coffee while George picked up a file and studied it. “I’d love to pin this on McHenry, but he’s got an eyewitness who puts him in the hotel bar where he was staying in New York at the time of his wife’s death.” He lowered his eyes, then raised them again and looked pensively at the women.
“What’s wrong, George?” Frankie asked. He appeared to be struggling with his thoughts.
He shifted his body. “You two were the last to see her alive.”
“And she pulled into her driveway,” Frankie reminded him. “At least the woman we thought was Cassandra McHenry did. Now we’re thinking that maybe the woman we were following was her twin sister Chelsea.”
“Chelsea?” He raised a bushy eyebrow. “She hasn’t been around here for twelve or thirteen years.”
“Maybe she came back for a visit,” Frankie insisted.
“And she’s driving her sister’s car while Cassandra is being shot to death?” He frowned. “Now come on, Frankie, don’t you think that’s a little far-fetched? You know what I think?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I think you two got your time wrong.” He picked up his cup and sipped at his coffee.
“No. Our time is correct. The coroner’s time of death must be wrong.”
Johanna knew by the tone of Frankie’s voice and the way she set her jaw that she was nearing the boiling point. “What we do agree on, George, is that Cassandra McHenry was murdered. We just want to know who was driving her car and why,” she stated calmly.
“Are you telling me that the woman driving her car is the murderer?” he asked incredulously.
“Of course not!” Frankie exploded. “We were following her, so how the hell could she have done it?”
Johanna cut in before Frankie totally lost her temper. “George, the woman we followed was living Cassandra’s life. If it wasn’t Cassandra, then we need to find out why someone was impersonating her.” She eyed him cautiously. Hopefully he would inadvertently divulge a crucial piece of information. “Some of the prints taken from the motel room are probably Chelsea’s.”
George laughed. “You’re fishing for information, Johanna, and it’s not going to work. You and Frankie were good cops, but you’re not on the force any more. You know the difference between cops and private investigators. And I don’t need to tell you that outside of you two, I’ve never cared much for PIs. They usually do more harm to an active case then they do good.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk as he stared at them. “I like you, ladies, and I’m going to tell you the same thing I always tell you when our paths cross on a case—don’t hamper my investigation. If you have any useful information that may help me, that’s another story.”
“You know, George, if we didn’t like and respect you so much we might be offended,” Frankie said with a wry grin. “And you know that Johanna and I have never hampered any investigation. In fact, we’ve helped you solve several cases…granted not murder, but we’ve helped you bring down drug dealers and have assisted you in taking down small theft rings.”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten.” He laughed again. “You two are something else.” He glanced at the clock. “I have an appointment with the mayor in a few minutes. I want you two to talk to Arlan.”
Frankie shrugged. “Okay, but I don’t see why.”
“I just want to get his take on what you’ve told me.” He sighed heavily. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll give us a fresh perspective.”
“So you believe us then?” Johanna said.
“I didn’t say that, but it has crossed my mind that The Overlook Motel is the last place I would have expected to find Cassandra McHenry.”
“At least we all agree on that point,” Frankie said, smiling.
George scratched his jaw. “Let me get Arlan in here.” He pressed a button on his phone pad. Minutes later Deputy Arlan Paton walked into the office. He smiled at the women.
Johanna politely returned his smile. She couldn’t stand Arlan. He was vain with a cocky attitude and thought he could have any woman he wanted. He was in his early thirties with wavy black hair, seductive eyes and a rock-hard body that women drooled over. His long sweeping eyelashes gave him the advantage of scrutinizing a person without their knowledge. Now, his full pouty-looking lips were pursed in an amused smile as George gave him instructions.
“I’ve got to get to my meeting,” George said as he pulled himself to his feet.
“Shall we begin, ladies?” Arlan asked. He walked to George’s desk.
Behind his back Frankie rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. Johanna suppressed a laugh as she playfully squeezed Frankie’s shoulder.
Chapter 4
Frankie leaned back in her chair and stared up at the star-studded sky. “God, it’s beautiful here. We were so lucky to get this place.”
“And in ten years or so we won’t have to share it with the bank.”
“Maybe we should go to Atlantic City and try our luck. Just think, we might become instant millionaires. We could retire and live in the lap of luxury.”
“Nah…I don’t think I’ll ever want to retire.” She lifted an eyebrow as she turned her head and looked at Frankie. “And I can’t picture you sitting around day after day without planning some strategy on a case. Maybe for a month or so you’d enjoy it, but any longer and you’d go crazy.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Besides, the day will come when we’ll be old and gray sitting out here together, rocking in our chairs,” Frankie teased.
“I don’t care about growing old, just so it’s with you, babe.”
“I feel the same way about you.” She smiled contentedly. “Do you ever wish we would have had kids?”
“We talked about that a few years ago, remember?”
She nodded. “I know, but sometimes I think maybe you’re regretting the fact that we didn’t.”
“No. I think we made the right decision. It wouldn’t be fair to them since our hours are so crazy at times. You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
“No. I just want you to be fulfilled in all areas of your life.”
“I am.” Johanna patted her hand. “Twenty acres of nothing but quiet and pure bliss, away from the hustle and bustle of the city.” She sighed contentedly.
“I remember how hard it was getting used to all that quiet our first few weeks.”
Johanna laughed. “It was hard to get used to, but now I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. We are so lucky to have the best of both worlds.”
“I have the best sitting right next to me.” She gave Johanna’s hand a squeeze.
“And don’t you forget it.”
“I forgot to thank you for dinner,” Frankie said, wrinkling her nose.
“Well, it was Mexican…sort of,” Johanna replied, before laughing.
Frankie threw an arm around Johanna’s shoulder. “As soon as things slow down you owe me an authentic Mexican dinner and not some bag of cardboard tasting things with a drop of seasoned ground beef in them.”
“Since you know I’m a horrible cook, you pick the restaurant. But they weren’t that bad. Half a bottle of salsa perked them up.”
Frankie laughed. “And a bottle of wine.”
Johanna grinned. “Anyway, what time will your car be ready tomorrow?”
“After three.”
“Good. I’ll drop you off and then I’ll pick up some groceries.”
“Pick up some steaks and I’ll throw them on the grill.”
“Okay.” She yawned. “Let’s turn in early and get a fresh start in the morning. My brain’s
fried.”
“You go ahead. I’ll be in after I throw in a load of laundry.”
Johanna swept a hand through Frankie’s hair. “I’ll wait.” She peered into Frankie’s eyes. “Why do I get the feeling that you have no intention of turning in early or doing a load of clothes?”
“You know me too well.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“We can talk some other time. You’re tired.”
“I’m never too tired to talk to you, babe.”
Frankie sighed. “Do you ever regret leaving the police force?”
“Not for one minute.” She turned and looked at her. “I like being in charge. I hated having to answer to those who didn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground. Which included quite a few at the precinct.”
“Me, too. I would hate to have to work with Arlan every day. I could never be a jerk to people the way he is. I feel sorry for the new deputy…what’s her name…oh yeah, Kate.”
“Kate seems nice. She’s so enthusiastic. I think she’ll be able to handle Arlan.” She gave Frankie a quick hug. “Don’t let him get you down. He’s just pissed because he can’t get into our pants.”
“I know. Even if I was into men I wouldn’t like him. He’s such a pompous ass.”
Johanna laughed. “That he is. We had plenty just like him on the force in Philly. Or have you forgotten?”
“No, I haven’t.” She sighed with satisfaction. “It doesn’t seem like it’s been ten years off the force and twelve years since we’ve been together. Any regrets?”
“Never, baby. If I had any, it would be not meeting you sooner. We’ve had some memorable times together.” She grinned. “Remember how depressed I was when I turned thirty? I resented the fact that you still had two years to go.”
“How can I forget?” Frankie replied with a laugh in her voice. “But I must commend you for taking forty with a grain of salt last month.” She peered into her face. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but I swear every year you become even more beautiful.”
“And you’re as hot at thirty-eight as you were at twenty-six.”
“Flattery will get you everything,” Frankie said.