Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 03 - A Deadly Change of Heart

by Gina Cresse

  I retrieved the envelope from where I’d filed it and pulled the photo out. “Yeah? So?”

  “It’s just a hunch, and a long shot at that. You still set on helping me with this investigation?”

  I almost fell out of my chair. “Are you asking me for help?”

  “It won’t be exciting. In fact, it’ll probably put you to sleep, it’ll be so tedious, but better you than me,” he admitted.

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  “Meet me down here at the station in an hour. I’ll have to set it up first.”

  “Set what up?” I asked.

  “You’ll see when you get here.”

  Before I even had a chance to sit down in Sam’s office, he took me by the arm and escorted me to another room. Inside, a man was busy sorting through a box of videotapes.

  “Jay. This is Devonie Lace, the girl I told you about,” Sam said.

  The man looked up from his box of videos and smiled. “Nice to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Jay’s a big-shot down at Caltrans. He may be able to help us out with our Willy Mendenhal problem,” Sam explained.

  I was still at a loss. “How?” I questioned.

  Jay pushed the box of videos aside and sat on the edge of the desk. Caltrans uses video surveillance technology to study traffic patterns in certain areas that may require modifications,” Jay explained.

  “Modifications?” I asked.

  “Yeah. You know. Overcrowding, gridlock, traffic jams,” he continued.

  “You must have cameras all over San Diego,” I replied.

  Jay chuckled. “Not yet, but you’d be surprised how many times your smiling face passes one of our lenses.”

  Sam pulled a videocassette from the box. “There are only two routes into the subdivision where Ralph Campbell’s house is. Those routes are monitored by Caltrans. By some streak of luck, the tapes from last year haven’t been recorded over.”

  I peered into the box. There were dozens of videos.

  “Jay pulled all the tapes for that area for every Wednesday between noon and eight.”

  My gaze met Sam’s. “You think Willy and the Explorer are on these tapes?”

  “Don’t know. That’s your job to find out,” he replied.

  Jay hoisted himself off the desk. “That’s my queue to vamoose. You start watching those videos and the next thing you know, you’re collapsed on the floor, your eyes closed and your mouth open.”

  Sam walked Jay to the door. “Thanks, buddy. What time does tomorrow’s game start?” Sam asked.

  “Eight,” Jay answered.

  “Great. See you then,” Sam said as he let Jay through the door, closing it behind him.

  “Game?” I asked.

  “Poker. Every Thursday night.”

  “Gambling? You? Is that legal?” I asked, joking.

  “Never mind. You better get busy,” Sam said as he loaded a video into the VCR and pressed the PLAY button. “I’ll check on you in a while to see how you’re doing.”

  “You mean to see if I’m still awake?”

  “That, too.”

  I glanced at the TV screen and my heart sank. “Wait a minute,” I called to Sam before he could escape. “This is in black-and-white,” I said.

  “What did you expect? Technicolor?”

  I sneered at him. “How am I supposed to spot an orange Explorer on this?”

  Sam picked up the VCR remote and held it out to me. “When you see something that looks like an Explorer, pause it and check the license plate.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I thought you wanted to help. This is what I need you to do.”

  I snatched the remote from him and turned my attention back to the TV screen.

  Sam paused in the doorway. “Don’t be mad. It’s time you learned that police work isn’t all guns, glory, and excitement like in the movies.” Then he was gone, and there I was with a box of tapes, a VCR, a TV, a remote, and nothing but time.

  After five hours of watching car after car pass through the same intersections, I was convinced this was Sam’s way to finally punish me for interfering with his work. Each time he poked his head through the door, my eyes were glazed over and I was trying a new and different position in the chair to try to keep alert—or at least awake.

  In an act of mercy, Sam brought me a chocolate bar and a Coke. “Caffeine. Help keep you awake. After this, I have some paint drying in the other room I want you to watch.”

  “Very funny,” I groaned.

  By ten o’clock, I’d taken as much torture as I could. Sam finally returned to release me from my agony. “No luck, huh?”

  I rubbed my tired eyes and moaned. “I checked every single SUV that passed through those intersections. Quite a few were regulars—same car, same time, every day, but none of them were mine.”

  Sam helped me to my feet. “Guess that lets Willy off the hook. Must have been a different vehicle the neighbor saw,” he concluded.

  “So, where does that leave us?” I asked.

  “Back at the beginning.”

  “In other words—nowhere,” I grumbled.

  “Not exactly. We’re going to pick up Bradley Parker tomorrow.”

  My eyes lit up. “You are?”

  “Don’t get excited. We’re just going to bring him in for questioning.”

  “Can I—“

  “No!” he barked.

  “But—“

  “No. No. No. Period. End of discussion.”

  I smiled and nodded my head. “Okay. Fine.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was nearly midnight by the time I returned to the marina. I let myself through the dock gate and rubbed my tired neck as I stumbled down the wooden walkway to the Plan C. Two of the overhead lights that generally lit the area between my boat and the main dock were burned out. I made a mental note to let someone know about it in the morning. I thought it was strange that two would have burned out at the same time, but I was exhausted and the curiosity fled my mind as quickly as it had appeared.

  The darkness made it difficult to judge the edge of the dock and the railing of my boat. I rummaged through my purse for the small penlight I kept and hoped the battery was still good.

  He moved with the quiet speed and agility of a cat, never making a sound. I didn’t hear him coming. The only warning I had was a scent in the air—some expensive aftershave I’d smelled before, but couldn’t place where. I didn’t think twice about it when I first noticed it, until I felt his strong arms grab me. One arm firmly around my head, with his hand over my mouth, kept me from screaming out—but I could smell the cologne on him. He wrapped his other arm firmly around my upper body, restricting my arms so I couldn’t use them to fight back. I struggled with all my energy, but he was too powerful. I tried stomping on his feet, but he was dragging me backwards quickly, away from the rail of the Plan C. I couldn’t anticipate the location of his feet. He kept me off-balance and unable to stand on my own.

  The small noises I was able to produce from under his strong grip disappeared in the air. There was no hope of anyone hearing my struggle. From what I could tell, we were headed toward the end of the dock. I finally managed to get one well-placed jab to one of his feet and he cursed at me under his breath, but not loud enough to wake any of the few residents who might be snoozing away on their floating homes.

  He stopped dragging me once we reached the end of the dock. I relaxed for a moment, hoping to lull him into a false sense that I’d given up. He didn’t ease his grip as I’d hoped. We stood there for a moment, then he reached down to pick up something from the dock, forcing me to bend over with his body. In the instant that he released his hand from my mouth to pick up the end of the coiled rope, I let out the loudest blood-curdling scream I could.

  “Shut up!” he hissed.

  I kept on screaming. He fumbled for a moment with the rope, then draped it over my head, pulling it tight around my neck. Before I could draw a breath for another screa
m, he kicked the cement block that was tied to the other end of the rope off the edge of the dock and shoved me into the water.

  Oh my God, I thought as I was pulled downward in the dark water. The rope was tight around my neck. I fought against it, but that just made it tighter. I couldn’t remember how deep the water was here. The heavy block seemed to drag me down further and further. Was it ever going to stop? I tried to pull the rope loose with my fingers. I was running out of air. My life began to flash before me, but I had no time for that. I shoved the adolescent memories of prom nights and first dates out of my head and tried to recall the more important ones—the ones that could save my life.

  A swimmer caught in the vortex at the bottom of a spillway would drown trying to fight the irresistible force of the current holding him in the churning waters. I remembered seeing this demonstrated on one of those real-life rescue shows on television. The experts concluded the only way out would be to go with the flow, let it take you down. Once out of its grip, the swimmer could escape to calmer water and resurface. I kicked my feet and pushed my body further down, closer to the ocean floor. This action allowed slack in the rope. I pulled the noose from around my neck and began my ascent toward the surface.

  I gasped for air and floundered about in the water, grasping for any part of the dock that would allow me to climb back up. I could hear the clatter of footsteps rushing down the dock toward me. I halted my thrashing and tried to be quiet, in case it was my attacker returning for another opportunity to exterminate me.

  “I say! Who’s there?” the voice demanded.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Mr. Cartwright? Is that you?” I called out.

  “Miss Lace? My God! I heard your screams. What in the world are you doing in the water?”

  “Help me out, and I’ll tell you,” I said, still trying to find a piece of wood that wasn’t slimy and slippery.

  Sam sat on the edge of a sofa in the main salon of the Plan C and scribbled in his notebook as I dried my hair with a towel and recounted the whole terrifying episode to him. Mr. Cartwright had slept through most of the attack, so couldn’t offer much help. He did, however, see headlights speeding out of the parking area after he heard my screams, but didn’t see the vehicle well enough to give a description.

  “I’m telling you, Sam, send a car over to Bradley Parker’s house. I’ll bet you a hundred bucks he’s not there,” I insisted.

  Sam shook his head and continued writing.

  “Are you listening to me? The longer you wait, the less chance we have of catching him,” I continued.

  “We?”

  “We. You. Me. Whoever. Bottom line is, someone tried to kill me tonight. The trail’s getting cold. Am I the only one who sees the urgency here?”

  Sam scribbled one more word in his notebook, pressing so hard the pencil lead snapped off and rolled to the floor. “The trail’s getting cold? Did you learn that from watching old Bonanza reruns?”

  I glared at him. “What do you think? I made this up? You think I just walked to the end of the dock, screamed my head off, then jumped in? These rope burns on my neck are self-inflicted?”

  “You do seem to have it in for Bradley Parker. You’re clever enough to come up with this scheme. I’m just not sure you’re that conniving.”

  Another officer entered the Plan C, carrying a coil of waterlogged rope with a cinderblock tied to one end. “Our diver brought this up from the area where she says she was attacked,” he informed Sam.

  I smirked at Sam. “Look how clever I am. I don’t miss any details.”

  Sam ignored this. “Tag it and put it in an evidence bag,” he instructed the officer.

  “Right,” he replied, turning to leave. The officer stopped and turned. “Oh. Charlie radioed. They picked up Parker. He’s at the station now.”

  I gawked at Sam.

  “I know. He called me on my cell phone. Thanks, Mac.”

  Officer Mac left the room. I felt steam building up under my skin. “You already picked up Parker?”

  “Yes,” Sam admitted.

  “And you chose to keep this from me because?”

  Sam scratched his head in thought. “I guess it’s because you’re so darn cute when your face turns all red, like it is now. And that smoke coming out of you ears reminds me of my last trip to Hawaii, when I got to see a volcano erupt. And when your eyes flash like they are now, sort of like when you disturb an angry mother bear, I just get goose bumps.”

  I wadded up the damp towel in my hand and flung it as hard as I could across the room, hitting him square in the head.

  He laughed. “Are you sure you want to marry that Craig fellow? What say you and me run off to Vegas and get hitched.”

  “Yeah. Right. There’d be no survivors in that episode. We’d kill each other before we got across the border.”

  “Is that a yes?” he asked.

  “No. That’s a no. Let’s go down to the station. I want to watch you question Parker. Get your stuff together,” I ordered.

  “I love it when you assert yourself,” Sam quipped.

  “You’re weird,” I said as he followed me out through the hatch to the deck. It occurred to me that our relationship had evolved from something that provoked nothing but anger and frustration into something very nearly resembling friendship.

  Sam held the dock gate open for me. “Ride with me?” he asked.

  “No. I’ll follow you. It’s late. I don’t want you to have to bring me back home.” We continued walking toward the parking lot.

  “Sure?”

  “Yeah.” I still had a question. “One thing. Why’d you pick up Parker? If he was home, then chances are he wasn’t the one who attacked me.”

  “Ah. That’s where you’re wrong, and why I make the big bucks. You see, he was home, but I told Charlie to feel the hood of his car. It was warm. He’d been out and had only just returned.”

  I smiled. “Wow. You’re good. Just like Columbo.”

  Sam puffed up and strutted ahead of me to his car. “That’s me. Columbo. Oh, just one more thing, ma’am. If you change your mind about the marriage proposal, I’m totally free. All that talk about Mrs. Columbo?—all a ruse. There’s no Mrs. Columbo.”

  I laughed and climbed into the Explorer. “I’ll see you downtown,” I said, closing my door and cranking the engine.

  Bradley Parker was furious. I watched from the dark side of the two-way mirror as he fumed in the interrogation room. Sam sat across from him, pencil in hand and notebook opened flat on the table.

  “Where were you tonight, Mr. Parker?” Sam asked.

  “I told you. I went for a drive. I couldn’t sleep,” Bradley Parker insisted.

  “You often get up and go for a drive at midnight?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ve had trouble sleeping lately.”

  “Why is that?” Sam asked.

  Parker was silent.

  “Lonely?” Sam continued. He tapped the end of his pencil on the table, studying Parker’s response.

  “Maybe. No law against that.”

  “There is if you killed the only person who kept you company.”

  Parker slammed his fists on the table. “I told you! I didn’t kill anyone! You people are crazy!”

  “Where is Pamela?”

  “Florida. With her aunt,” Parker grumbled.

  “Guess what. We can’t find any record of Pamela having an aunt in Florida. We can’t find a record of Pamela having an aunt anywhere. Try again, Mr. Parker.”

  Parker squeezed his eyes shut. “She told me she was going to stay with her Aunt Lori in Fort Lauderdale. I swear it.”

  “Did Aunt Lori have a last name?” Sam asked.

  “I’m sure she does, I just don’t know what it is.”

  Sam shook his head. “Think hard, Mr. Parker. Did Pamela give you any other information that could help you out of this difficult situation?”

  “No! No! No! She left me! That’s all I know. She said I was a horrible person and
she never wanted to see me again. I dropped her off at the airport and watched her fly right out of my life.”

  “Are you a horrible person?” Sam asked.

  “Yes! I admit it. Okay? She came over to surprise me with a gift she’d made and found me in a somewhat awkward position with my receptionist. Is that horrible enough for you?”

  A picture of Mandy, the big-haired, big-busted redhead flashed through my mind.

  Sam nodded his head. “I’d say it’s a wonder we’re not dragging your body out of the water with a rope around your neck.”

  Parker stared at his hands, folded on the table. He didn’t say anymore. Sam shoved his chair out from the table and stood up. “If you think of anything that might help, let me know.”

  Sam left Parker sitting at the table. I watched as Sam left the room, and Parker began to sob.

  I followed Sam down the hall to his office. “What’s next?” I asked.

  “We have to charge him or let him go.”

  “So? Charge him. What’s the problem?”

  “Can you testify it was him who attacked you tonight?”

  “You know I can’t. But who else could it be? There’re no other suspects,” I reminded him.

  “I know, but it’s thin. Lack of other suspects isn’t enough.”

  I gripped the edge of Sam’s desk. “I don’t believe this. You’re going to let him go, aren’t you?”

  “No. Not tonight anyway. We’re going to hold him as long as we can, but his lawyer will be here in the morning, screaming bloody murder.”

  I hoisted my purse higher on my shoulder and marched to the door. “I’m going home. I guess I’d better find some sort of protection for myself—-maybe a big, mean dog.” I stepped through the door. “Or a gun,” I continued, closing the door behind me.

  I had parked the Explorer in the underground parking garage next to the station. The dimly lit structure was nearly empty at this hour, with only a few cars occupying the spaces. I dug through my purse for my keys as I walked across the expanse of concrete toward the section I thought I parked in. A voice startled me and I stopped short, turning to see where it came from.