The Crimson Z

by Robert Cloud, Lee Rush, Richard Savage

  "Not on your life."

  "No way."

  Two male voices declared in unison.

  Jason gave her an implacable look. “If Clay is right, he's killed once. He probably wouldn't hesitate to kill again."

  "But he might be more willing to talk to me. Besides, Virginia will be with me."

  "She's a ghost,” Jason returned.

  "But not without a few tricks,” Virginia quipped.

  "No,” Jason and Clay said in unison.

  Chapter Twelve

  Anne sat on the upholstered chair in the waiting room of Michael Williams’ law office. She glanced at Virginia who was leaning against one wall tapping her foot. A twinge of guilt pinched her conscience. She'd come here without Jason and Clay and without their knowledge. They'd growled every time she'd suggested visiting his office. Men. Their smothering protectiveness might have been attractive in another situation, but not this time. She would have bet her inheritance that Michael Williams would be the key to figuring out who killed Virginia.

  Jason's detective had located the Virginia impostor in France. They wanted to confront her before they spoke with Mike Williams.

  "Mr Williams will see you now,” his secretary said.

  "I'll bet her credentials weren't the only thing good old Mikey was checking out when he hired her,” Virginia commented as she floated by the woman's desk.

  Anne tried to smother a grin as she cast a glance at the buxom, blonde bombshell. From what Virginia had shared about Mike Williams, he'd been a founding and very active member of the Attic Club. He'd been one of Virginia's lovers, but not exclusively so, though Virginia suspected he wanted to be. Though he was a talented and creative lover from the tidbits Virginia had shared, he'd never been able to capture her heart.

  Anne walked into his office, a shiver of apprehension rippling through her body. It reeked of money. As lawyers go, he must be pretty successful.

  "Good morning, Miss Kemper,” he said rising from his leather swivel seat. He extended his hand toward her.

  "Good morning,” Anne replied. Mike Williams equaled Clay and Jason in height, but he'd allowed the years to add weight to his abdomen and a roll under his chin. His hair was almost completely silver.

  "What can I do for you?” he asked. Curiosity flashed in his light blue eyes.

  "I can't believe how he's let himself go,” Virginia observed moving to his side behind the desk.

  He scanned the sheet on his desk. “You said you wanted to talk to me about the Marshall house. You recently purchased Virginia's home."

  "Yes,” Anne said, wishing her thoughts would slow down enough for her to snag a few of them so that she wouldn't sound like an idiot. “By now you might have heard on the news that they found a body in my home."

  "A body?” He bolted upright in his chair. His surprise appeared to be genuine. “In the cold room. That must have been quite a shock."

  "If he's the murderer, he probably didn't expect you to find my body so soon ... if ever."

  "A woman's body. It was hard to identify the body because it was in such an advanced state of decay. Possibly decades.” Anne watched for a reaction. He paled slightly before a light blush stained his cheeks. He wasn't giving much away, but enough for Anne to keep prodding him. “The police think she might even be Virginia Marshall,” Anne lied, hoping to apply a little pressure and rattle him a bit.

  "That isn't possible,” he returned, easing back into his seat. This time when he studied her chips of ice had formed in eyes.

  "It isn't?"

  "It isn't?"

  Anne and Virginia spoke in unison.

  "How can you be so sure?” Anne asked.

  "Because I have been in communication with Virginia for the last thirty years.” He rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. His gaze never wavered from her face, but it revealed none of his thoughts. “In fact, I spoke with her just last week."

  "You did?” Anne responded. “The police seemed so sure the woman was Virginia Marshall.” She fought the guilty flush rising to her cheeks at her repeated lie. Though she wasn't sure why, the more time she spent with him, the harder her instincts twitched.

  "Then, they are mistaken.” Mike Williams rocked back in his seat, looking completely at ease.

  Anne had nothing to go on but her gut, but his poise was too perfectly executed to be natural. If that was the case and he was Virginia's murderer, he was too consummate a liar for her to take him on single-handedly. Though it would mean confessing to Jason and Clay that she had come here on her own, she couldn't prove if he was telling the truth or not without help. She gripped the top of her leather purse and slid to the front of her seat, preparing to rise out of her seat.

  "Let me talk to the lying bastard,” Virginia growled. “He has to know the person wasn't me. He'd known me for years and would know my voice."

  "I understand that it must have been a shock to find the body in the basement, Miss Kemper, but the police are mistaken. It can't be Virginia Marshall. I will, however, pass along the information to Virginia. I'm sure she wouldn't know anything about any body. She left the city thirty years ago and hasn't returned. In all likelihood, someone killed the person then stashed the body in Virginia's home because it was empty."

  "Yes, you're probably right. Thank you for seeing me.” Anne stood and made her way to the door. She pulled open the door, but a scowling Virginia slammed it shut.

  Anne closed her eyes and gripped the doorknob, then gave it a tug. It wouldn't budge.

  "Annie, you aren't going to just walk out of here. He knows more than he's letting on."

  "Miss Kemper?"

  "I seem to be having trouble opening the door.” She sent a warning frown toward Virginia, but it bounced off the anger radiating from her sparkling form.

  "Let me talk to the slimy weasel, or I'll do more than slam doors."

  "Virginia, please.” The plea was through her lips before she could stop it. She wanted to get out of here and create a plan before she talked to him again. Either he was telling the truth and someone else had killed Virginia and stolen her identity, or he was lying and she was standing a few feet away from a calculating, cold-blooded killer.

  "Did you just say Virginia?” he said.

  Anne exhaled slowly and nodded.

  "Tell him, Annie, before I do something you'll really get upset about."

  "Yes,” she replied. “I did. Virginia Marshall is here as a spirit. I know she was the person killed thirty years ago because she's haunting my house."

  Mike Williams impaled her with an artic stare. “If this is a joke, it isn't a very funny one, Miss Kemper."

  "Murder is never a joke. Virginia was killed by a blow to the back of her head, and she can't pass over to wherever ghosts go until her murderer has been caught and justice is served."

  "Annie, let me talk to him."

  "You said that Virginia is here. Did you mean in this room? Are you some kind of psychic?"

  "No, I'm not a psychic. Anyone who wears her necklace can see and hear her.” Anne pulled the necklace from under her blouse. His eyes narrowed on the pendent dangling from the chain. “I found it in the house."

  Even though Virginia could probably stop him from hurting her, a shudder of fear rocked her body. “If you loop your fingers through the chain you'll be able to see her, too.” She'd made the suggestion, but she hated the thought of him getting that close to her.

  "Really Miss Kemper, you don't expect me to believe this nonsense."

  Virginia grabbed his tie and started lifting the tip. “I should strangle the louse,” she muttered.

  His eyes widened as the silky piece of fabric rose in the air before him. Without another word, he slid his fingers under the chain, and Anne held her breath.

  "Hello, Mikey,” Virginia said.

  His head whipped around. His eyes widened as the blood drained from his face. “Virginia?"

  "In the spirit."

  "It's you
?” His chest rose and fell in deep breaths. He shook head as if he was trying to clear his thoughts.

  "No, it's the Easter bunny! Yes, it's me."

  Anne put her hand up. “Virginia, sarcasm isn't going to help. We came here to see if he could help us figure out who killed you."

  He stared wide-eyed at the shimmering specter. “You're a ghost.” He said the words as if he needed to hear them to believe what he was seeing.

  "I'm not sure of the logistics behind my inability to cross over. But I think it has something to do with the necklace and the fact that some scumbag got away with murder, my murder."

  "We were hoping you might be able to help us figure out who killed her.” Anne was glad that her voice didn't reflect the fear twisting her tummy into a painful knot.

  "You mean she doesn't know who killed her?"

  "The coward hit me from behind. I never saw them. And there doesn't seem to be any cosmic exchange of information to help me find out.” Virginia scowled. “Though no one from higher up has communicated with me directly, I just sort of know that I have to figure this one out ... with your help of course."

  "Why did you think I could help? As I said to Miss Kemper, until today I believed you were still alive."

  Anne studied him. Some color had returned to his face, but his expression gave nothing away. Could he really have been duped by the murderer, or was he trying to convince them? She wasn't sure.

  "Mike, you knew me better than most, in the Biblical sense and as a friend,” Virginia said. “I'd like to know how someone fooled you into believing I would really leave town. I told you how I felt about Clay when I changed my will."

  "You were always impetuous and a bit hot-headed. I assumed you and Clay had had some kind of lovers’ spat."

  "An argument wouldn't have stopped me from marrying him."

  He shrugged.

  "You said that you were in constant communication with Virginia, but obviously that was impossible,” Anne interjected. “How can you explain that?"

  "The morning after she left there was a letter in my mailbox, saying she'd left and she'd contact me when she got settled in her new place. A few days later I received a letter from her from a villa in Italy, and with instructions to forward her spending allowance to a bank in Venice."

  "And you didn't think it was strange that she would just pick up and leave the country?” Anne persisted.

  He shrugged. “Like I said, Virginia was impulsive."

  "Do you have the letters?"

  He nodded, looked over at Virginia one more time, then slid his fingers from under the slender chain. Anne breathed a sigh of relief. Even if he wasn't the murderer, he still gave her the creeps. She couldn't imagine ever letting him push any part of his body into hers. Though she doubted Virginia would, she made a mental note to warn her never to use his body with hers like she had with Clay.

  He went to a filing cabinet, drew a key chain from his pocket, and slid it into the oval lock. Anne sucked in a breath as he drew the drawer open. A vision of him taking out a gun paralyzed her. Virginia wasn't bullet proof, so she prayed what she lacked in substance, she could make up for in speed to deflect his aim.

  When he drew a couple of files from the drawer, Anne exhaled slowly, nearly dizzy with relief.

  "Here are copies of our correspondence and financial records for the first couple of years.” Mike pointed to the drawer. “There's a file for each year."

  Anne flipped through some of the letters. All were typewritten and signed with a bold Virginia. “Have you only communicated by letters?"

  "No, in fact, I chatted with her just last week."

  "What?” Virginia started pulling files from the drawer and stacking them on the top of the filing cabinet. “Do you mean to tell me you couldn't tell the voice was different?"

  "It's been a long time since I heard your voice, and the phone can distort, especially an overseas call.” Mike made a grab for the files when the pile started to slide to one side. “Whoa!"

  "Annie, can you believe him?” Virginia exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.

  "Virginia, slow down.” Annie didn't believe him, but she wanted to find out as much as she could without arousing his suspicions. “If he said he was talking to you, then he probably thought that he was. There must be an explanation."

  "Annie, are you blind? He's hiding something.” She placed her elbow on the top of the filing cabinet. “Probably the murder weapon."

  "Maybe,” she answered trying to calm her down without giving her true thoughts away to Mike Williams. She didn't need Virginia to do something they'd both regret later. “Mr. Williams, the Virginia you've been communicating with has never returned to the city in thirty years? She grew up here. Didn't that strike you as strange?"

  "Not really.” He dropped the files in his hand in the middle of the desk then turned, folding his arms across his chest. His expression shuttered. “Virginia didn't have any close family members here in the city."

  "So what happened to my money?” Virginia asked. “Did he give it to the impostor or pocket it himself. And don't think about not asking him. I want to know."

  "Virginia was wondering if the impostor has been collecting her allowance."

  "Yes, I continued to manage her investments, rather successfully if I say so myself, and she's collected the monthly allowance."

  "So out there somewhere is an identity thief and murderer who has been living off Virginia's money for thirty years."

  He nodded. “Of course, this can't go on."

  His concerned words were delivered perfectly. Too perfectly. Anne didn't need Virginia's prodding to push him, to put the squeeze on him. His controlled veneer was really starting to irritate her. “Could you give me the information on the impostor's last known whereabouts?"

  "Of course, but I don't have her current address. When we spoke last week, she said she would be leaving for France the next day, so I'll have to wait a week or so before I'll have her new address."

  Virginia leaned over and whispered into her ear, “He's stalling."

  "If you could call me then, I'd appreciate it.” She wrote her number down on a card and passed it to him. Virginia might have powers enough to stop him from doing her harm, but she wouldn't feel safe until she was out of here. “I think we should go home and think about what our next move should be. Until we hear from the fake Virginia, there isn't much more we can do here."

  "Okay,” the shimmering spirit said and crossed her arms in front of her see through body.

  Mike Williams looked at her, his eyes so cold it made her skin crawl. Then, the look was gone as quickly as it had come.

  "Well,” Anne said as she moved toward the door, praying Virginia would follow without giving her any trouble. “We'll head home and wait for your call."

  "Certainly, and I'll help you in any way that I can,” he said. “I want Virginia's murderer apprehended as much as you do."

  Anne held her breath until she was out of the room and in her car with the door locked. She put the key in the ignition but didn't start the car immediately. Her hand shook, and her knees felt weak from reaction. Michael Williams was convincing, and she had no reason to doubt his word other than a gut instinct that twisted her stomach into an uncomfortable knot. The only time she'd seen an honest reaction on his face was when he'd seen Virginia. Then, for a few seconds, she'd seen a flash of fear.

  When she pulled into the driveway of her home, Jason was sitting on the steps of the veranda. He lifted a hand in greeting when she pulled into the yard.

  "Great,” she muttered through her teeth while she smiled and waved back. She'd hope to snag a few minutes to herself to regain her equilibrium before she told him about the visit to William's office. Not telling him was out of the question. She just hadn't been prepared to tell him so soon.

  "Hi,” she said. She climbed out of the car and shut the door.

  Jason looking every inch a banker in a tailor-made, navy suit and crisp white shirt walked
along the flagstone path toward her. When his arms closed around her, she burrowed into his chest. The security of his embrace managed to chase away some of the uneasy feelings that has taken root inside her from her meeting with Mike Williams. With his arm looped around her waist, they walked toward her front door.

  "How would you like to go out for supper?” he grinned. “And then come home for dessert?"

  "That sounds great,” she slipped the key in the lock and cringed. Her voice was tight. “Or perhaps dessert, then supper."

  "What's wrong?” He curled his hands around her upper arms, his eyes mining for answers. “Has Virginia been giving you a hard time?” He hooked a finger in the chain and scanned the area, then let it drop.

  Anne smothered a groan. Was she really that transparent? “Let's go inside, so we can talk."

  "This sounds serious."

  "It is.” She walked into the foyer then dropped her purse on the semi-circular table beside the door before she faced him. “This afternoon, I ... Virginia and I visited Mike Williams."

  "You did what?” Jason's voice was quiet. Without shouting he'd managed infuse a quiet anger into his voice to make her realize that behind the man who treated her with such tenderness was a lion protective of his own. “After we told you not to?"

  "We had to go,” Anne said, wishing she could evict the timid note slipping into her voice.

  "Annie girl, don't let him talk to you like that.” Virginia slid between her and Jason, planting her fists on her hips. “You can put a cave man in a suit, but you can't take the cave man out of the suit. They go all primitive once they start thinking about you as their woman. Though there are times when that smothering protectiveness has an appeal, they have to learn when to rein it in."

  Anne grinned in spite of Jason scowling at her.

  "It's not funny,” he growled. “You could have been hurt, possibly even killed. He's the only person who could gain from Virginia's death and non-disappearance."

  "Look, even with the strong silent types distraction works every time.” Virginia grinned. “They growl, but they are a push over. Some things always work. Pout. Give him the eyes ... a tear or two, and he's putty in your hands."