Bound by Mystery

by Diane D. DiBiase

  She had packed her personal things the night before, knowing he wouldn’t spend one more night in that hotel once she presented that video. All she wanted was her clothes, her freedom, and enough money to enjoy it. As she raced up the stairs, she thought how funny it was that all the bravado she had shown in the office failed her when she had left Jamison in the lobby. The terrified feeling that she and Karla shared flooded back. Karla. She had slipped only once with that stupid scene, but she was proud of her for sticking it out and following her instructions.

  Addie grabbed the two suitcases and duffel from the closet and set them in the hall. Everything else, the gowns and furs, could be replaced. Let Vance have fun destroying them tonight. The jewelry didn’t interest her but it did him, no sense in antagonizing him even more. She checked her watch. Time to go.

  She carried her things downstairs, checked the video of the grounds, and with trembling fingers she turned off the alarm. She drove out of the gates without a backward glance and straight to the condo that Vance didn’t know about—yet.

  The valet helped her unload her things and while he drove her car to the parking garage the doorman put her bags on the elevator. “Don’t forget to watch out for my husband,” she warned.

  “Security has been notified, Mrs. Hays,” he said. “We’ll take care of you.”

  Around midnight Jamison’s call woke her. “The police think Karla’s been murdered.”

  Addie’s hand went to her throat but kept her voice steady. “Think?”

  “Blood was found in her apartment,” Jamison told her. “Someone called 911 and said they heard screams coming from her floor. By the time the police arrived, she was nowhere to be found.”

  “She wasn’t supposed to go back there. Why would she do that?”

  “Will you be safe at your new place?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Addie said. “With video surveillance, security guards, and paying huge tips, I’m more than safe here.”

  “I’ll turn another copy of the video Karla gave you over to the police. Will you be available for an interview?”

  Addie hesitated. “Yes, if Vance did this, he should be behind bars.”

  When she disconnected, Addie immediately notified the lobby. “My husband may show up. I just got word he may have already killed someone, tell everyone to be alert and very careful.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Hays. He won’t get past us.”

  Around four o’clock Caller ID showed Vance calling from the house. Everything she left behind was probably burning in the fire pit out back. Addie thought it best to answer. “Hello, Vance.”

  “Howell called me after a cop called him. Something bad happened to Karla.” Vance’s words were slurred. “Where did your men take her?”

  “They were only hired for the day. Once we left the office she was on her own,” Addie said, then steeled herself to ask, “Did you punish her, Vance? Someone called the police because of a racket coming from her apartment. They found blood.”

  “No! It wasn’t me,” he said with a sob. “Addie, I’m scared for her. She won’t answer her cell.”

  Addie could hear pounding on his door.

  “Go away!” he yelled.

  She heard the door bang open, voices identifying themselves as police, and then the phone hitting the floor. Addie smiled as she disconnected. Vance in jail meant safety for her. She slept soundly that night. The first good sleep in weeks.

  Jamison arrived with the morning paper. Vance’s arrest was front page news. Jamison helped himself to coffee while she read the article.

  “Why did they arrest him?”

  “I have no idea.” Jamison sipped his coffee. “I do know they did a quick print analysis and his were all over the place.”

  “That’s not exactly evidence, he spent a lot of time there. Kent, I’m sure he didn’t do anything. Vance called me last night right before the police broke in. He’d been drinking and wanted to know where the bodyguards took her.”

  “What exactly did he say?”

  “Howell notified him like you did me. He told me he’d been calling her cell with no answer and he sounded honestly worried.”

  “Don’t give him another thought. Howell got Vance a good criminal attorney,” Jamison said. “Addie, they’ll want to know who those two men were so they can point the finger at someone else.”

  Addie nodded.

  “I know you’ll be on the prosecution witness list to give evidence of his violent side.” He gave her a funny look. “Are you hiding anything else?”

  That startled her. “No, why?”

  “How did you find about Karla in the first place? And who are those men?”

  Addie put the newspaper down and smoothed it with both hands. “Kent, I think maybe you should stop asking questions.”

  “I’m your attorney. You need to be totally honest with me because the police are going to ask the same questions.”

  Addie sighed. “Karla chose the men and asked me to hire them. She didn’t trust anyone else, so I agreed. I have no idea who they are and I wouldn’t pay for any protection after she safely left the building. What her plans were after that…” Addie shrugged.

  “So how did you find her?”

  “It was easy. Vance thinks I’m clueless so I just had to follow him. It only took one time.” Addie laughed. “One day Karla and I had a very long talk over lunch and I convinced her that it was in both our financial interests for her to cooperate with me. He’d slapped her around a few times so it was easy. But, Kent, I refuse to testify that Vance ever hurt me. If he manages to get out, he’ll come after me.”

  “You don’t actually believe what you said earlier. That he didn’t do anything to her?” He couldn’t hide his scorn. “You know him better than that.”

  “As I told you, he sounded like he was being truthful.” She squinted at him. “If I do protect him as far as the abuse goes, and there’s not enough real evidence, could he get off?”

  Jamison shrugged. “He could. Apparently they have enough evidence right now to arrest him and I’d love to know what that is. If they discover more at his house, then he would likely get a long sentence.”

  “So they’re searching the house.” Keeping him behind bars was the goal here. “Except for the divorce, I don’t want him to have any grudges against me. Remember, he can always hire someone to do his dirty work.”

  The way Jamison studied her made Addie feel uneasy. “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said, smiling warily at her. “I better go. One question, how are you going to pay the bodyguards?”

  “Cash in advance.” Addie raised her eyes. “Karla said to trust them and they obviously didn’t disappoint.”

  ***

  On the witness stand Addie was more than fair. “No,” she told the jury. “He was never violent with me.” She unconsciously rubbed the scar on her palm where Vance had shoved her hand into shards of a broken wineglass because she had chosen the wrong bottle.

  “Oh, come on, Mrs. Hays! Your neighbor testified you told her you were afraid of him,” the assistant district attorney insisted.

  Addie dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “When he threw things or hit the walls, I would run next door until he cooled off. But he never, ever laid a hand on me.”

  During the trial, she watched Vance turn into an old man. Fifty years on him now looked eighty. He was thin, weak, and sagging. His spirit was almost as beaten as his body. It was time to visit him.

  ***

  “They tape everything.” He held the black phone on his side of the glass. “Anything we say can be released to the public.”

  “I understand,” Addie said softly. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

  Vance gave her a defeated smile. “No, but thanks for what you said in there.”

  “I’m your wife.” It didn’t hurt to use the wo
rds he repeated over and over justifying his abuse.

  “I miss Karla. She was always so sweet. I never thought she would work with you against me. You had something on her, didn’t you?”

  “No, Vance. It wasn’t like that. I fooled her.”

  “Doesn’t matter now,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I didn’t do it, Addie. I didn’t kill her, I loved her.”

  Just another example of how little he cared about Addie’s feelings. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

  “There were lots of girls,” he confessed. “But Karla was special.”

  “Oh, Vance, you were so stupid.”

  “Don’t say that.” Vance balled a fist.

  Camera, she mouthed.

  His eyes darkened but he kept himself in check.

  “I knew about the others but you never threatened to leave me,” she said. “Not until Karla came along. I had to protect my interests.”

  “Are you saying you were smarter than me?”

  “Of course not,” Addie lied.

  “Yeah,” he said, mollified. “Did you see her resemblance to you? I mean the new you I created.” He shook his head, smirking. “You didn’t look like that six years ago but Karla already had red hair and style.”

  “I noticed immediately.” Addie smiled icily. “She had everything you liked. Do you remember how you met? She told me but I wonder if you remember.”

  Vance chuckled. “It was your fault we met. She came to my table after you walked out on me and left me all alone at the restaurant.”

  “Walked out on you?” Addie shook her head. “I forgot to wear the dress you picked out for me. When I arrived at the table you…expressed your disappointment and told me to wait for you at home.”

  Vance laughed. “Before you got there, I saw this beautiful girl, wearing my favorite shade of green at the bar and she kept looking over at me. I had to find a way to make you leave and you came in wearing the perfect excuse.”

  “Almost like I deliberately threw her into your arms,” Addie said with a grimace.

  Vance’s laugh was spontaneous and loud. The guard said, “Time’s up.” Vance hung up his phone and left without a backward glance.

  The D.A.’s office came through. With blood traces found in the trunk of his car and a couple of women who stepped forward claiming he had beaten them, the prosecutor’s summation was more than convincing with the new slant. “When he got mad at his society wife, Vance Hays took it out on the other women. Because of Karla, the prenuptial agreement became null and void. He owed his wife a lot of money and Karla Swan had to die.”

  The guilty verdict came back that evening.

  The divorce went through as planned and Vance asked to see her. Addie decided it was best to go.

  He lifted the phone. “Just wanted you to know, I’ve forgiven you,” he said. “You had my back at trial and that’s what mattered.”

  “Thank you, Vance, I appreciate that,” Addie told him. “This is my last visit. I’m going away for a while.”

  “That’s okay.” Vance shrugged. “My attorney said I’ll be getting out while the case is appealed. I’m going to search for Karla’s real killer. I’ve been set up and I’m going to prove it.”

  But he didn’t get out. Addie closed her condo and flew to the Caymans where she opened up a couple of accounts. Back at the hotel, with some keystrokes on her laptop, she emptied his Cayman account into those new ones. She left a small amount behind as punishment. He would be angry over a zero balance, but insane over a piddling amount. His attorney or the bank officers would be blamed for allowing his account to be hacked by foreigners because his ex-wife was much too stupid to even know about those accounts, much less know how to empty them.

  In Costa Rica, she took a cab to the oceanfront house, and pushed open the door. “I’m here!”

  “Yay!” Karla came running out of the kitchen. “We’re home free!”

  “How’s the wound?” Addie asked, carrying her bags to a bedroom.

  “Healed and worth the pain and the scar.” Karla showed her hand. “The blood poured like crazy. I had fun flinging it on the walls. Putting some in the trunk took some doing. He heard us and came outside. Good thing you gave us the gate opener.”

  “Here,” Addie said, tossing a small ledger at her. “Your own personal bank account with everything you earned. Keep that well hidden. You can change the password as soon as you want.”

  Karla whistled. “Even more than you said.”

  “Vance is a very clever investor.” Addie walked out to the living room and poured a glass of wine. “I couldn’t empty out the account until he had no access to a computer. It will be months before he discovers he’s broke.”

  “Pour me one. I’ll be right back.” Karla went to her bedroom. “By the way, I flew out of Florida a few days later with no trouble.”

  “I wanted to call you,” Addie said. “But didn’t dare, in case I was being watched. My attorney was a little suspicious but he’s moved on to other cases.”

  Addie poured another glass and carried both of them to the balcony overlooking the ocean. She stretched out on a lounge chair. It was at this very beach where she had first spotted Karla and come up with the plan. Vance had agreed she could vacation alone in Acapulco. He trusted her subservience and had no idea she had flown to Costa Rica and signed a long-term lease on this secret getaway. Karla was the second generation of American immigrants here and was eager to make a lot of money.

  “It’s time you went back to your own hair color,” Addie said when Karla joined her.

  Karla took the glass and wrinkled her nose. “I’m glad. I hate constantly doing roots. I waited, in case you notified me to come back because things fell apart. I kept up with the trial on the Net.”

  “Your cousins, are they satisfied?”

  “Yes, they’ve become big shots in the city,” Karla said, grinning. “And they’re making money.”

  “They bought the bar, then?”

  Karla nodded. “A lot of tourists flock to it.”

  “My plan is to leave at the end of the week. The lease runs out in a few months. Stay until then or lease it in your name.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hays,” she said. “I may buy it, since I’m a very wealthy woman now.”

  “You deserve it, you earned every penny.” Addie lifted her glass.

  “We both did,” Karla said as the glasses clinked.

  The Price of Belief

  Dennis Palumbo

  I knew I’d found the right publisher for my Daniel Rinaldi series when editor Annette Rogers said she enjoyed reading about “the mean streets of Pittsburgh.” I’d always believed my hometown would make a great setting for gritty, complex mystery thrillers, and was pleased that Poisoned Pen Press agreed. Since accepting that first book in the series, Mirror Image, and for each novel that followed, both Annette and Editor-in-Chief Barbara Peters have offered unwavering support (and no small measure of candor) for my work. And my psychologist hero’s adventures have been much the better for it.

  By the way, in interviews about the series I’ve done over the years, I almost always quote Annette’s comment about the mean streets of Pittsburgh, and how gratified I was that a publisher had “gotten” what I was trying to do. I guess you could say it was love at first sound-bite.

  —D.P.

  ***

  Nothing like a guy threatening to jump off a roof to get the public’s attention.

  “’ Bout time you showed up, Rinaldi.” Shielding his eyes, Sergeant Harry Polk offered me his trademark scowl as he peered up at the tiny figure barely visible on top of the tall building, standing precariously at the roof’s edge. Behind us, uniformed officers struggled to keep a crowd of curious, chattering onlookers away from the scene, although they were still close enough to record the event on their cells and mini-cams, blithely shooting up into a b
linding summer sun.

  “I left the office as soon as I got your call.” A quick glance up at the harrowing sight above. “Thankfully, the traffic out of Oakland wasn’t bad. I was afraid I might be too late.”

  The veteran detective grunted. “Maybe you are.”

  In this heat, and given his size, Polk’s wrinkled blue suit was blotchy with sweat. As was his florid, drinker’s face.

  “You know about this crazy shit?” he asked wearily.

  “That Andrew might be at risk? Of course. So did you, practically from the moment you charged him. He was immediately referred to me, remember? After his first suicide attempt.”

  “Well, looks like he’s tryin’ again. ’Cept I think the poor bastard’s gonna pull it off this time.”

  I followed his gaze up at Andrew Morrison, who appeared to be swaying slightly, as though readying himself. Behind us, I heard a sudden, excited gasp from the people gathered on the street. Waiting. Perhaps hoping…

  The collective silence lasted only a few seconds before morphing into another chorus of murmurs and nervous giggles because Andrew had abruptly stepped back from the lip of the roof, disappearing from our view fourteen floors below.

  “Hey, man, where’d ya go?” someone behind me shouted.

  Another voice rang out. “C’mon, you pussy! Jump!”

  I glanced back at the crowd milling behind the semi-circle of cops, but couldn’t tell who’d spoken.

  Meanwhile, eyes still riveted on the roof’s edge, Polk asked me, “Think Morrison changed his mind?”

  “Hell, Harry, I don’t know what to think. I gotta get up there and—”

  “You gotta what?”

  For a long moment, I didn’t reply, my mind racing. Then I gripped his arm.

  “But I’m going to need something first.”

  “Dammit, Rinaldi!” Polk called after me as I hurried across the pavement and approached one of the uniforms. Sweat gleamed in rivulets from his hatband down the chiseled planes of his smooth black skin.

  “Listen, Officer, I’m Dr. Daniel Rinaldi. I consult with the Department and—”