I exhaled a deep breath, then lowered the gun to the floor. “Sorry,” I said, rushing to his side. I locked the door behind him and took a bag from his hand. “Guess I’m a little jumpy.”
He relaxed, lowering the bags to his side. “I guess so,” he said. “I guess you’ve got a good reason to be, though.”
We placed the bags on the floor and started unloading them. “I just picked up a couple of packaged sandwiches from the gas station down the street,” he said. “There’s also some chips and a six-pack of soda.”
I reached for a soda and popped the tab. “Sounds great to me,” I said. “I’m hungry enough to eat anything right now.”
Justin bit into his sandwich and took a drink of his soda. “I also noticed a small café just a few blocks from the gas station. We can go there in the morning for coffee and breakfast. I think we’re far enough away from your house that Winslow and Michael Black won’t find us.”
I hoped so. I was tired of running. All I wanted was to solve this mystery and get back to my normal, boring life.
Justin raised an eyebrow. “Did you call your uncle?”
I nodded. “He was furious we didn’t call him sooner. I tried to explain to him that we didn’t have a lot of warning.”
“That’s for sure,” Justin said between bites. “Michael Black must have phoned your boss right after you left his house.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But if that’s true, then I still can’t figure out why he didn’t just kill me right then and there.”
Justin closed his eyes and blew out a long breath. “Maybe it’s like you said earlier. Maybe he was afraid someone else knew where you were.”
“You mean like you?” I hadn’t thought of that before, but now I was beginning to wonder. It would also make sense that they waited to stalk me once they knew I was with Justin. That way they’d get both of us.
I glanced at Justin, my mind reeling with remorse. I hated thinking that I’d managed to put Justin’s life in danger as well as my own. He didn’t deserve that.
“I’m so sorry about all of this,” I told him. “I never meant for you to get so involved in something so dangerous.”
He wadded up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it onto the floor. “It’s not your fault,” he said, sincerity in his warm blue eyes. “None of this is your fault. Someone had this planned all along. You were set up from the very beginning. There’s nothing you could have done that would have prevented any of this from happening.”
Except go to the police when I first found Angelica’s body, I thought. I wondered what would have happened if I had simply called the police and stuck around long enough for them to arrive. Had I only imagined that someone was upstairs while I was there? I wondered.
Then I remembered Angelica. Her body was not in the house when the police arrived only a few minutes later. Someone had to have been inside that house in order to have removed the body so quickly. It was the only explanation that made any sense.
My appetite suddenly gone, I wadded up what was left of my sandwich into the wrapper and tossed it next to Justin’s. I glanced around the room. “Do you think it’s safe to sleep on this old carpet?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I guess we have to try,” he said. “We’ll need to have clear minds in order to develop some sort of plan tomorrow.”
I reached for my gun and placed it next to me. Rolling onto my side, I curled my arms together and lowered my head.
Justin lay next to me, his face just inches from mine. “Denise?” he said softly.
I opened my eyes. “What?”
His mouth curved into a smile. “I’m glad you have that gun.”
****
Sleep had not been very restful for Justin and me. While we managed to catch a few winks during the night, every noise we heard appeared magnified by the emptiness of the house. Several times, we’d awakened with a start, and with my weapon in hand, we’d checked each window and the doors for signs of tampering.
I stretched awake, my joints screaming in protest. The worn carpet had provided little support. The musty smell had only added to my discomfort.
I reached over and nudged Justin’s arm. “Wake up,” I said, wondering how he could possibly sleep in these accommodations. I slowly backed myself up against the wall and stretched my legs out in front. “I need coffee,” I complained.
Justin moaned, then opened his mouth wide and yawned. “I’m awake,” he said, stretching his long body. He rubbed his eyes, then flashed me a crooked smile. “Are you always this cheerful when you first wake up?” he teased.
I rolled my eyes, ignoring his remark. “Only when there’s a killer after me,” I shot back.
He stretched his back against the wall beside me and cupped my hand. “We’ll get him, Denise,” he assured me. “Once we get to the café and get some nourishment into our bodies, our minds will start flowing with ideas.”
I hoped he was right.
Since neither of us had a change of clothes, a hairbrush or a toothbrush, we combed our hands through our hair and smoothed out the wrinkles in our clothes with our hands. In the bathroom, I used a finger to rub away the excess mascara that had smudged beneath my eyes. It would have to do, I realized. The only makeup I carried in my purse was a compact and a lipstick.
As Justin and I walked hand in hand through the neighborhood, I breathed in deeply, filling my lungs with the fresh morning air. A slight breeze danced through my hair, but the warm air gave a promise of another hot day.
As Justin had promised, the café was only a couple of blocks from his new house. Justin opened the front door and ushered me inside. “Let’s hope the food is good,” he said.
“I don’t care what we eat as long as there’s coffee,” I replied.
I chose a booth near the front window and slid into the seat.
“I really don’t think you have to worry about the red Toyota here,” Justin said, reading my mind. “I’m sure we’d have known by now if they had a clue where we were.”
I tried my best to look reassured, but I wasn’t sure my expression reflected that sentiment. Hiding out in Justin’s new house was probably the smartest move, but being out in the open now made us an easy target.
“I hope so,” I answered, hoping my doubt wasn’t too obvious.
I glanced around the small café. Although smaller, the layout was similar to Winslow’s Diner. Six booths lined three walls, while two small tables filled out the middle of the room. Unlike Winslow’s Diner, most of the tables were filled with paying customers. Four construction workers crowded around one of the tables. A family of four occupied another. Three booths, including ours, were also occupied with customers.
I was just about to comment on the similarities, when a startling thought occurred to me. I slammed my hand on the table to capture Justin’s attention. “I’m supposed to work today,” I said.
He laughed out loud, causing several customers to glance our way. Leaning closer and lowering his voice, Justin said, “Somehow I doubt your boss is expecting you to show up.”
He was probably right. The diner was the last place Winslow would search for me today, which probably made going there the most logical decision. I started to tell Justin my plan when our waitress appeared with two menus.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, placing a menu in front of each of us.
“Coffee,” we both answered at once.
She smiled and pulled out an order pad. “Coming right up. Do you know what you want to eat, or do you need a moment to look over the menu?”
I glanced at Justin. “I’ll just have pancakes,” I said.
“Sounds good to me,” Justin agreed. He handed his menu back to the waitress. “Make that two coffees and two orders of pancakes.”
She jotted down our orders and promised to return quickly. As soon as she walked away, I leaned across the table. “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea for me to show up at the diner today.”
His jaw dropped.
Justin started to say something when our waitress arrived with our orders. My mouth watered at the steaming stack of pancakes she placed in front of me. I reached for the butter and slathered on a heaping amount.
“This looks wonderful,” I told her. I poured maple syrup over the stack, while Justin doctored his own plate.
Our waitress smiled and placed our ticket on the table. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she told us.
When she walked away, I stuffed a large bite of my pancake into my mouth and chewed. “I almost forgot,” I said, waving my fork at Justin. “I promised to call Uncle Bob again this morning. Let me borrow your phone.”
Justin retrieved his phone from his pocket and lowered his eyebrow. “What exactly did you tell your uncle last night?” he asked.
“I told him about my visit to Michael Black and about the red Toyota following us last night,” I answered, punching in the number. “I also told him we were safe. Then I asked him to check around and see if he could find out if there was ever an investigation into Michael Black’s wife’s death ten years ago.”
Justin started to say something else, but I put up a finger for silence when Uncle Bob answered.
“Hello, Uncle Bob,” I replied. “I just wanted to check in this morning like I promised.”
I heard a long sigh at the other end of the line. “Denise, you need to let me know where you are. Then the three of us can sit down and discuss what needs to be done.”
Although I expected that response, I wasn’t sure how to respond. I couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know—at least not now. I knew he’d want to bring the police in, but at the moment I had no evidence linking Michael Black or Harry Winslow to Angelica’s murder.
“Denise?” he said.
I had to think fast. “Uncle Bob,” I said, “these men are smart. They’ve already killed one person. Maybe two. I’m afraid they may even be watching you to see if you’ll lead them to Justin and me. I can’t take that chance.”
I heard another long pause as the realization of what I’d just said sank in. “Then let me call the police and have them meet you somewhere,” he suggested. “You can’t do this alone.”
I had to agree with him on that one. “I won’t do it alone,” I told him. “I just need a little more time to figure out our next move. And I promise, you’ll be the first to know.” I hoped that was reassurance enough for now. It was the best I could do under the circumstances. “Uncle Bob?” I asked, praying my question would be answered with the response I hoped for. “Did you have a chance to check on what I asked you about last night?”
“I did,” he responded. “Apparently there was an investigation into Mrs. Black’s death. Her husband received over one hundred thousand dollars from a life insurance policy he had taken out on his wife just weeks before she died. However, one other person was also killed from product tampering from the same store Mrs. Black’s purchase came from. Three other people survived. No one has ever been charged with the crime.”
I glanced at Justin and smiled. I had a feeling we were onto something. I just didn’t know how we were going to prove it.
“Thank you, Uncle Bob,” I said, sincerely. “I promise I’ll let you know what our next move is. I’ll call you back as soon as we know.”
I disconnected before he could issue an objection.
“What was the smile about?” Justin asked as I handed him back his phone. He cradled his coffee cup in his hand.
I picked up my cup and took a sip. “Michael Black’s wife was one of five people who were affected by tainted pain killers sold at the same store.”
“So?” He shrugged. “Doesn’t that just prove that Michael Black didn’t kill his wife?”
I leaned forward, my smile stretching. “Not necessarily,” I said. “Remember I told you earlier that I’d done some research on cyanide poisonings?”
He nodded.
“Well, apparently since that time, it’s been a method of choice for some people who think it’s an easy way to get away with murder.”
Justin scratched his head, his eyebrows wrinkled. “I don’t get it.”
“If Mr. Black wanted to kill his wife, all he had to do was lace a few bottles of a product with cyanide, place it back in the stores, and then claim that his wife also purchased a bottle there before she died. And he wouldn’t have cared that other people died in the process, as long as his own wife did.”
Justin’s eyes lit up. “Wow. That’s almost the perfect crime. I mean, how would anyone get caught?”
That seemed to be the biggest problem. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But there has to be some way we can prove Michael Black killed his first wife. I mean, the fact that his fiancée died from the very same thing his wife died from has got to be more than coincidental.”
“I agree.” Justin finished the last bite of his pancake and pushed his plate to the end of the booth. He picked up his cup and took a sip while his gaze lingered on the ceiling. “The red Toyota still bothers me,” he finally said. “You thought Mr. Winslow was the one who drove it away that morning and dumped Angelica’s body in the river, right?”
I nodded and bit into another bite of my pancake. “It had to be him because Mr. Black says he left it in the airport parking lot when he left on his trip. Surely the police have already checked his alibi. And I know that car was at his house the next morning.”
“But why would Winslow move the body if he wanted to implicate his partner in her death?”
I stopped chewing and swallowed hard. “Are you suggesting that Mr. Black boarded the airplane, flew to his destination, then came back some other way?”
“He could have, you know. He could have come back, checked his car out of the lot, and driven it home.”
“And killed his fiancée?” I finished off the last bite of pancake, then reached for my coffee cup. I shook my head and took a sip. “He didn’t do it, Justin. I still can’t believe that he was capable of killing her. He loved her. I saw it in his eyes when I talked to him yesterday.”
Justin chewed his bottom lip, while he seemed to consider what I’d just told him. “Okay, maybe he didn’t kill her,” he said. “Maybe she was already dead when he got there, and he panicked.”
I started to say something when our waitress came by with the coffee pot. “Would you like more coffee?” she asked.
We both nodded, then waited for her to fill our cups. She reached across the table and picked up our empty plates. “Will there be anything else?” she asked.
“I think we’re good for now,” Justin told her. “Can you keep the coffee coming, though?”
She nodded, then left.
I leaned my arms across the table and whispered, “Maybe you’re right, Justin. Maybe Angelica was already dead when Michael Black arrived at his house. Obviously, Mr. Winslow planted the wallet for me to find. Which means that he wanted me to find the body. He probably expected me to call the police right away. And I would have if I hadn’t heard a noise upstairs.”
“Michael Black,” he said slowly.
“Exactly. He came home early and found his fiancée’s body. Then, when I came in, he panicked. Maybe he purposely made a loud noise upstairs to scare me off. If I had stayed and called the police then, he would have had no chance to escape with the body.”
I leaned back against the bench. It all seemed to be falling into place. Even if Michael Black had wanted his fiancée dead, he wouldn’t have killed her by the same method his own wife had died from years ago. That would have made him look guilty. And it could even open up an investigation into his wife’s death ten years earlier.
Justin’s e
yebrows became one. “There’s still a problem with that scenario,” he said. “The police know that Angelica didn’t die from drowning now. Michael Black had to know that the cause of death would come out eventually. So even with his removing her body and dumping her in a river, isn’t he still a good suspect for murder?”
My mind was reeling from exhaustion. If we didn’t unravel the puzzle soon, it could cost us our lives. But it seemed the more possible answers we came up with, several more questions arose.
I lowered my face into my hands and thought about what Justin had just said. He was right. Michael Black was probably the police’s top suspect in his fiancée’s death. But there was still one thing that we knew that the police didn’t.
I raised my head, meeting Justin’s questioning gaze. “Maybe,” I said. “But remember, the police don’t know that Angelica was in Michael Black’s house that morning. As far as they know, she could have been killed anywhere and then dumped.”
Justin sipped his coffee, then exhaled a long breath of air. “This whole thing would be so much easier if the two men just broke down and confessed everything.”
He meant it as a joke, but his words sparked an idea. I put my cup down on the table so hard it splashed coffee over the rim. Several customers turned to stare.
I offered an apologetic smile and leaned over the table. “Justin, that’s it!” I said softly. “We get them to confess!”
His mouth dropped open. “What?”
A new sense of satisfaction settled over me as I placed my hand over my mouth and contemplated my new plan. “We set a trap of our own,” I said, picking up a napkin and dabbing at the mess I’d made. My mind was spinning with so many new thoughts, I had to talk fast to remember them. “We call Heather,” I said. “We tell her we know that Mr. Winslow and Michael Black have committed a murder. We also tell her that we know she’s involved in something illegal at the diner, and if she doesn’t cooperate she could also be implicated in the murder.”
“But I don’t think she is involved,” Justin said.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, waving his statement away. “It’s just a scare tactic. Besides,” I added, “my guess is that she is involved in whatever is going on at the diner. I’ve always wondered how she affords the fancy car and designer clothes she wears. She’s got to be doing something besides cashiering and shuffling papers in the school’s office.”
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