Such Wicked Friends

by Rod Hoisington

Police cars with swirling lights and crackling radios began arriving. Jaworski ran in and asked if she was okay. She asked him to check on Ted Cobalt’s condition. No one seemed to know. Sandy wanted to wait for more information, but the detective grabbed her arm and led her out into the storm to his vehicle. As they stepped past the silver Buick jammed through the wall, she noticed bullet holes across the trunk.

  Jaworski whisked her away with sirens blaring. They were headed for a meeting with Shapiro. As they drove through town to the courthouse, police cars with flashing lights seemed to be scurrying in all directions like lightning bugs in a fruit jar.

  She was still tightly gripping the manila folder when they entered Shapiro’s office. He gave her a towel, and while drying off she started talking about probable EPA violations and Margaret Frome the whistleblower. She was still shaken and speaking haltingly.

  Shapiro didn’t get it—at least not the first time around. To him everything seemed crazy. A high-speed chase through town with multi-car accidents at two busy intersections, culminating in a bullet-riddled car with a body knocking down a wall in the hospital emergency waiting room. Every available cop in town who wasn’t working the accidents, was either at the hospital or over at the Sabal Palm Plaza searching for evidence in the darkness of the storm. He asked no one in particular, “How do I make sense of all this madness?”

  “I tried to tell you the Frome shooting was part of a larger plot.” She tossed the file folder onto his desk and started again with an explanation. “That manila folder contains the inside information I hope the EPA can use to get Bichadel Corporation for environmental violations. More importantly, all of this means Margaret Frome intended to blow the whistle. That’s why she was murdered. You can bet someone at that company is behind this. We still don’t know exactly who shot her. And we don’t have a definite link back to that corporation. I’m still working on that.”

  Shapiro was beginning to understand the connections. He realized what she’d just said. “What do you mean you’re still working on it?” He raised his voice. “Just butt out and let us do our job. The town can’t survive much more of you. This isn’t your investigation.”

  “Okay then give me back those files.”

  He opened the manila folder. “So, the guys in the black car were willing to kill to get their hands on this.” He rifled through a few of the memos and contracts. They were meaningless to him.

  The discussion went on and getting to bed before midnight wouldn’t have happened without Chip who arrived at that moment and interrupted the meeting. After his thank-God-you’re-safe hug, he said, “Mel, if she can’t identify the assailants then everything else can wait. She’s been through a lot. I don’t want her going into shock.”

  Jaworski stated that on the way over, she’d given him a lot of details plus a good description of the two men and their vehicle. He had put it out on the air. The police were looking for the black car.

  Shapiro agreed, he thought he had enough for a start, and she could leave with Chip. Tomorrow he’d contact the EPA Special Agents.

  On the way to Chip’s she phoned Martin. She had awakened him, and he sounded bewildered. She brought him up to the minute about meeting with Ted, the chase and later taking him to the hospital. “We still need to find the link connecting Bichadel to all this and who exactly pulled the trigger in the courtyard.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Toward morning, the storm blew itself out and the day dawned bright and clear. Sandy awoke alone in Chip’s bed. By the time she took her shower and got herself together, it was almost nine. She started on a coffee and bagel while looking up the hospital phone number. She phoned, but they wouldn’t release any information on Ted.

  She called Martin and after reassuring him she was okay said, “I don’t want to sit here on the phone all day and the crime unit hasn’t released my car yet. Why don’t you swing by here and pick me up? We can talk at the office.”

  While waiting for him, she phoned Chip. He hadn’t found any damage to her car other than the windshield. That was a relief. He’d pick it up and bring it to the office along with a police report for her insurance company.

  Later at the office, she and Martin made themselves comfortable in the large back office. “I was over at the hospital earlier,” he said. “The administrator is an old family friend. They haven’t announced it yet, but Ted is off the critical list. You saved him by rushing him to the hospital as fast as you did.”

  “I was saving myself. He was along for the ride. Anyway, I’m certainly pleased he’s going to live.” She continued to give him the story. She explained what Ted had told her when he gave her the files, “Margaret Frome sought out Ted and passed him the files. After she was shot, he was afraid for his own life. It wasn’t a coincidence that he met you in the bar. He had followed you. He thought you’d pick up on why she was shot, and he could stay out of it. He’d turn the files over to the EPA after the investigation started. I don’t know what’s in them, but since Margaret risked her career to put it together, I’ll bet it’s enough to hang Bichadel Corp.”

  “So that helps the EPA with their problem, plus it connects someone at the company to her murder in the courtyard.”

  “And it absolutely clears Robert Frome from all suspicion of killing his wife,” she said, “but doesn’t tell us who did the actual shooting.”

  “And it may or may not clear you of your ethics violation. Even after the state attorney identifies who at the corporation is responsible, the trial could take years.”

  “Well, I’m not through solving my problem.”

  She answered her phone, “Hey Chip....” She listened. After a few moments, Martin saw her face morph into a frown. “No, no, no. That just can’t be. The poor man. Where’d they find him? Geez, did I screw up? Did Moran screw up? Never should have happened. This is someone’s fault. Jaworski should never have knocked on his door. I’ll call later, Chip.” She looked over at Martin and shook her head. “An hour ago, Robert Frome committed suicide.”

  “We were just talking about him.”

  “Jaworski was late coming in this morning because he’d been up half the night working the high-speed chase episode and conferring with Shapiro. When he did come in, he tried to phone Robert Frome to explain about his wife blowing the whistle on Bichadel. We now had the files and knew why she was murdered. He was going to give Robert the good news that he was no longer under investigation. No answer, so he went to his apartment and knocked on the door. He heard a shriek from inside and busted the door down. Robert must have been expecting the police. Jaworski found him hanging from a ceiling fan with an extension cord. Jaworski cut him down and rushed him to the hospital. Didn’t make it—DOA. He left a note saying he was sorry and didn’t want to live without his wife.”

  “The police were hounding him. Yet you never thought he was guilty,” he said. “Moran was pushing it although Jaworski must take some of the blame. He’s going to be miserable for a long time thinking about the guy dying in his arms.”

  “It’s my fault,” she said. “I knew the guy was stressed out. I should have gone over there last night. Obviously those goons chasing after the EPA files had something to do with Margaret Frome being murdered.”

  “What do you mean you should have seen him last night? You didn’t finish with Shapiro until midnight?”

  “Then I should have gotten up early and rushed over to his apartment first thing. I could have talked to him through the door. I know he would have believed me that he was off the hook. Instead, I was home feeling sorry for myself because I had no cream cheese for my bagel. Meanwhile, he’s over in his apartment getting out a chair and tying a cord around the ceiling fan.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “It is my fault because I could have prevented it. He appeared frail and frightened to me. I knew he was depressed and couldn’t face the police. He was all prepared just waiting for them to knock one more time.”

  He said, “Jaworski was being
pressured to wrap up the case. Moran thought it was open and shut. Spouses fighting over who-knows-what. Husband shoots wife and skips town.”

  “You’re right. They had a lousy case. Could never have prosecuted him successfully. All they had was a shaky alibi of him being out of town and the murder weapon wiped clean of prints tossed in his condo dumpster.”

  “Enough for Moran.”

  She slapped the desk hard with both hands. “Totally unnecessary tragedy. Poor guy.”

  “The black car thugs are still out there.”

  “They won’t bother me anymore. It’s too late. The file is already in the hands of the EPA special investigators.”

  “You’re wrong. Thanks to you, the State Attorney’s office now is aware that someone at Bichadel Corporation is behind the courtyard murder. They intend to start investigating. It won’t take the perpetrators long to figure out it’s Sandy Reid they actually need to worry about.

  “I guess you’re right. And worry they should.”

  Martin said, “If you’re otherwise okay, I need to duck out now. I think I’ll walk over to the police station and see if there’s anything new on Brad’s investigation.” He stood and turned to leave.

  She followed him to the door. “What are you talking about? Jaworski won’t discuss that case with you. We’re probably all suspects. Well, maybe not me for a change. You can walk over there, but you’re wasting your time.”

  “Do you happen to know his secretary? I believe her name is Judy something.”

  “Now you know detectives don’t have secretaries. Was she wearing a uniform?”

  “Yes. Looked nice.”

  She grinned. “Oh, I see what’s going on. You mean Judy, the cute blond with the ponytail. Hold on, I have her card in my desk.” She found the card. “Judy Naegler, Crime Analyst. We’ve helped each other in the past. Isn’t she a sweetheart?” She handed him the card. “How do you know her?”

  “I don’t actually. I mean I saw her and we sort of spoke. She walked me to the elevator, which was completely unnecessary. Told me her name, which was completely unnecessary. None of it sank in until later that night when I realized she might have been coming on to me. It went right over my head at the time. Imagine the come-on signals we miss in a lifetime.”

  “Not too late, Martin. She’s probably over there right now wondering how many more bricks she needs to drop on your head. Now get out of here before some lucky guy beats you to her.” She wondered if his feelings for Prissy had changed.

  He walked the three short blocks from his office to the police station, which was across the street from the courthouse. By the time he entered the small lobby, he still hadn’t thought of a logical excuse for seeing Judy. Maybe he’d just wing it. He wasn’t actually out of place. Lawyers were frequently in and out of the police building.

  Three other people were sitting in the lobby waiting for something or someone. Occasionally, a uniformed officer would cross the lobby or exit the elevator. He got in line at the receptionist’s window at the end of the lobby. He was third in line. At his turn, he stepped up and pulled out the business card Sandy had just given him. He gave the woman behind the glass his name. “I’d like to speak with...Judy Naegler.”

  He waited while the receptionist swiveled to put her back toward him and spoke on the phone. She swiveled back smiling. “She’ll be right down.”

  He paced around the lobby, pretending to look at the photos, plaques and awards on the walls. What was he going to say to her? Just then, the elevator doors opened and Judy appeared. She was far more attractive than he had remembered. Her police uniform didn’t distract a bit.

  She gave a smile and a wave to the receptionist and came up to him without hesitation. “Ah, the incredible Martin Bronner.” She looked delightful.

  “Yes, that’s me. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d just drop by.” Somehow, it came out as a wildly clever way to say he was interested in her.

  It brought a wide grin to her face and she said, “Let’s sit on that bench over there. I was hoping you weren’t here on business.”

  He focused on her dark blue eyes. “If I were here on business, I would have forgotten what it was.” He felt quite comfortable. This was starting off far better than he had hoped.

  He looked over as some woman caused a commotion opening the lobby door. She wore a flowery coral-colored outfit as though ready for the beach-ladies luncheon. Entirely out of place in the earthly police station. It was Jenna Ebert.

  She spotted him and swept over to where they were sitting. “Martin, how sweet to find you. I came here to see that detective, but you and I need to talk. I know you were mad at me when you left the other night.” She sweetly smiled. “But I’ll make it up to you.”

  He stood as she approached holding his hands up with the palms out to ward her off. “Jenna, I’m busy here.”

  She forced a tight smile at Judy. “Well, she’ll just have to excuse you. Come on, you can buy me a drink.”

  “You are interrupting,” he said firmly through his clinched teeth.

  Judy stood. “No, no, that’s okay. I should get back to work.” She hurried over and stood in front of the elevator for only a second before turning and running down the hall.

  He called out to Judy who was quickly out of sight. “Jenna, there are other people on this planet.”

  “I know. Let’s go have a drink and talk about them.”

  “No drink.” He noticed the receptionist bestowing a fierce evil eye upon him.

  “I’m sorry I accused you of killing Brad in front of the detective after he spied on us by the pool. I know he’s after me. I panicked.”

  “Friends don’t lie about friends.”

  “I can explain.”

  “No need to explain. You were just being Jenna. You were being a bitch. All that is fine. I understand. I forgive you. Now go.”

  “We need to talk and not here for chrissake. Take me out of this grubby place.”

  The receptionist stood behind her desk throwing daggers at him. “Let’s talk in your car.”

  They walked out to her car parked next to the building and settled into the front seat. “You can’t just brush me off. We’ll never get anyplace if you do that.”

  “There’s no place I want us to get.”

  “I’m broken now. I feel as though I’m scattered in a million pieces. I don’t know if anyone can fix me,” she sighed. “But I’ll come back together.

  “You’ll have to fix yourself. I don’t care. Jenna.”

  “What does it take with you? I’ve already stripped naked and thrown myself at you. Haven’t I always been Target One in your mind?”

  “I’ll admit in the past you were in the back of my mind.”

  “So now I’m in the ‘No way’ category?”

  “You’re in a special category. Through our school years, you were always around and always so perfectly enticing. You take the prize for giving me all those coming-of-age sexual fantasies. In the years since, you never stopped pushing my buttons. Now you’re mine for the taking and I don’t want you.”

  “Of course you do. If we have sex now you would have reached a lifetime goal.”

  “True, it would finally be done. The slate would be wiped clean.”

  “That sounds like an ending. What I want is a beginning. It doesn’t sound very romantic.”

  “You’re the one who left romance out. You made it a game of lust.”

  “So, forget the sex?”

  “I’ve forgotten it. The sex thing will no longer be in the room with us.” He thought about telling her another truth—she wasn’t worth the trouble.

  “I know why this is happening. It’s because I’m getting old, isn’t it?”

  “You’re not even forty. You look fantastic—believe me. But I’m just not interested.” Was that too cruel? He waited for whatever explosion, drama or teardrops came next.

  She was quiet. Finally, she said, “If you ever do get interested, you know where to f
ind me.”

  “Jenna, you’re still flirting with me. You still don’t get it. It was lust and that’s over. I was never in love with you.” There he said it. He wasn’t certain how true it was; in any case, that’s what she needed to hear. She’d survive. Women like her always do. There would be others out there for her to pounce on. “Look, Jenna. Take away the romance and take away the sex. Now, let’s work on what’s left. You’re an old friend. I’ll be around. We just need to find a new way to relate to each other.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  It started by happenstance. Later that same afternoon Sandy was on the north edge of Park Beach at the Mazda dealership. They had installed her new windshield. While waiting for them to release her car, she just happened to see an attractive young woman who somehow looked familiar coming out of the Pink Door Spa in the adjoining strip mall. She knew the woman from somewhere. Slim, poised and with a confident walk. With a sleeveless blouse and a flirty short skirt, she showed a lot of skin.

  Simply an accident or she might never have gotten suspicious. She looked closely to be certain. The woman’s walk and swaying hips gave her away. Replace the designer sunglasses with horn-rims, put her in a shapeless dress and whom do you have? The woman sashayed on across the parking lot. She knew who it was before the woman slipped into the sparkling red Prius.

  She ran back into the Service Department shouting. “I need my car.”

  The paperwork wasn’t finished they said. She looked out the window. The red Prius was backing out.

  “Give me my damn keys. This is an emergency!”

  They told her she must first check out with the cashier. The red Prius was now moving through the parking lot. She ran into the office of the cashier. Two other people were in line. She ran back out to the sidewalk and saw the red Prius turn and disappear into traffic. She kicked a nearby trashcan off the curb and it bounced across the driveway.

  After she cooled off, she felt somehow strengthened by the knowledge that Priscilla Fowler wasn’t what she seemed. If Priscilla’s deception was benign with no one getting hurt, then she could carry on in peace. At the very least it seemed she was fooling Martin. For some reason, Priscilla didn’t want him to see her as she truly was. Would he prefer a bookish horn-rimmed glasses type to the hot gal just seen flashing her long legs through the parking lot? Yes, he probably would. Dressing down to please him was one thing. If it was worse than that, if she was up to something wicked, Sandy wouldn’t stop until she found out what was going on. Priscilla had no idea who was now hot on her cute tail.