The Spider Bites

by Medora Sale

  “How do you know all this?” I asked.

  “I knew her pretty well. I came here for breakfast. I sat over there, by the coffee machine. After the place emptied out, we used to talk. I don’t suppose you and Angela even noticed me.”

  He turned to Susanna. “It doesn’t have to have been you,” he said. “Someone else might want you to be rich. Someone looking for a wife with money.”

  “Either way, that made Cheryl the target of the fire,” said Tony.

  “It’s possible,” said Mark. “Whenever you’re talking about a lot of money, you have a motive. Money changes things.”

  “Yes,” said Tony. “It changes things.”

  “I always figured the motive was money,” I said. “But I still think Rodriguez was trying to get rid of Freddie. After all, he was going to talk. But Cheryl’s death? I couldn’t see it. Unless she was going to tell us why she let Freddie stay in my apartment.”

  “Weren’t there easier ways to get rid of Freddie?” asked Angela.

  “Torching the house brought me into the frame,” I said. “And that meant someone wanted to fix me for good. That someone has to be Rodriguez.”

  “It looks that way,” said Mark.

  “So I started things rolling. I told a couple of people I was going to poke around the site of the fire.”

  “Who?” asked Mark.

  “Angela and Susanna. Then I went over to see if anyone turned up.”

  “You bastard!” said Angela. “You suspected me?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “But I wanted to make sure. After all, you were pretty angry.”

  “I had reason to be,” said Angela.

  “I know. But…”

  “Save the fights for later,” said Mark. “What did they do?”

  “Angela told me I was crazy,” I said. “That made me feel better. Of course, I didn’t feel so wonderful when I turned up at her apartment and saw you there, Mark. I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

  “And Susanna?” asked Angela.

  “Nothing much. I went over to the park and waited. Mark turned up. And then Greg. Interesting, I thought. You tell two women and two guys turn up.”

  “I told you,” said Greg. “I was just killing time until I could go and pick up Susanna. When I called her, she said to give her thirty minutes to pull herself together, like. She’d meet me outside Jenny’s house. Isn’t that what you said, Susanna?”

  “Something like that,” said Susanna.

  “Can we get away from the damn park for a minute?” asked Tony. “There’s no law against sitting and talking to people in a public park at nine or ten at night.”

  “Look, Tony. Two things happened at the park that night that shouldn’t have.”

  “What?”

  “Someone screwed up the power lines. And someone hit me on the head. If his aim had been better, I’d be dead.”

  “Who?” said Angela.

  “It’s pretty obvious. Most of us wouldn’t have the guts to play around with high tension wires. But there’s an electrician in the room. Sitting right there. How’s your leg, Greg? Weren’t you limping just a little? How much damage did I do?”

  All the eyes turned on Greg.

  He pushed his chair back. “Okay. I went over to see what was happening. Just like you, Rick.” He stood up. “I bumped into Rick in the dark. He fell and hit his head. I bruised my ankle. No big deal. I apologize, Rick. Let’s go home, Susanna.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Susanna. “Forget Greg. He knew nothing about what was going on.”

  “Really? Who did then?” I asked.

  “Tony. He used Greg. He needed help from someone with no connections to Rodriguez or the police.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Greg told me,” she said. “This morning. He asked me what to do.”

  Greg sat down, burying his head in his hands.

  “Why would Tony do it?” I asked.

  She looked around. Everyone in the room was staring at her. As if she was a snake coiled up on the table, ready to strike.

  “For the money. I think he had big gambling debts.”

  “Tony?” said Angela. “He doesn’t even play poker with the guys.”

  “Sure,” said Susanna. “That’s what everyone thinks.”

  “We don’t just think it, Susanna. We know it,” I said. “Anyway, Rachel would break his nose if he did.”

  “She would, Susanna,” said Tony, grinning. “Believe me. And she knows every cent I spend.”

  “He’s conning you, Rick. The way he’s always conned everybody. I’ve been working around these guys for almost two years, and I can see it.”

  “See what?” asked Tony.

  “Your connections with Rodriguez,” said Susanna. “Even the soccer team he coaches. It’s filled with kids who’ve been busted for dealing.”

  “Okay,” I said, “let’s say Tony did it. Why involve Greg?” I wondered what she’d say.

  “He needed someone with a truck that no one would notice. Greg’s truck was always around our place. So he asked Greg. They put the cans of gas and stuff in the truck. He drove it to our place and waited in the truck for Tony. When I found out about it, I knew Rodriguez was behind it. And was going to put the blame on you, Rick.”

  “So why did Greg try to kill me?”

  “He told you! He wasn’t trying to kill you. Don’t you ever listen?” said Susanna.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE PRICE OF A LIFE

  Susanna stood up. “Come on, Greg. We’re leaving. These guys aren’t working cops. They have no right to ask us questions. They’re just playing games.”

  “Just a minute, Susanna,” I said. “You’re right, of course. But we can call in the real troops in a second when we want. Hang on. The party isn’t over yet.”

  “Anyone looking at the evidence is going to assume you killed your mother, Susanna,” said Angela. “Go ahead. Convince us you didn’t.”

  “There’s no point,” said Tony. “She did it. Or, at least, she’s responsible for Cheryl’s death. We won’t have any trouble proving it either.”

  Susanna sat there quietly. She seemed perfectly relaxed now.

  “Why did you do it, Susanna?” I asked. “Cheryl was your mother.”

  “Greed,” said Tony. “Rodriguez probably paid her a bundle. First to put Freddie in your apartment where they could find him. And then to get rid of him. We’ll find the money. It’s very hard stuff to hide.”

  “How much did you get to kill two people, Susanna?” I asked. “What’s the price of a life right now?”

  “You stupid bastards,” she said. “I didn’t touch Cheryl. But I won’t pretend that I’m sorry she’s dead. I hated her.”

  “Why?” I asked. Even then—even suspecting she killed Cheryl—I was stunned.

  “Because Cheryl was rich. And we lived like beggars. Do you know what that’s like?”

  “Dead, she was rich,” said Mark. “Not while she was alive.”

  “That’s not true. My father left her lots of money. But she never spent anything. She rented out most of the house. She worked as a waitress.” Susanna’s cheeks were red with anger. “She could have sent me to private school and bought us both nice clothes. We could have had a car. Instead, she made me get a job. And pay rent on my apartment.”

  “She put your father’s insurance money aside for you, Susanna,” said Mark. “It was for emergencies and to get you a good start in life.”

  She wasn’t listening.

  “It served her right, dying in the fire. But I had nothing to do with it. And you’ll never be able to prove that I did.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes, Susanna,” I said, “Even you. You know why they called me the Spider? I was after this rich, powerful guy with important friends. A real bastard.”

  Tony nodded. “Rick wove a huge web. And the bastard made one mistake. Rick caught him. One very big fly. So we called him the Spider.”

  “And this
time I wove a very small web and caught a big fool and a nasty little fly,” I said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THE MISTAKE

  Susanna stood up, slowly and deliberately. She nodded and walked out. Greg scrambled after her. Tony was already on his mobile, talking fast. What happened next came very quickly. Afterward, no one was really sure what order it all happened in. Angela said that Greg was the first to notice anything. She’s probably right. She was the first of us to go outside after them.

  There was hardly any traffic on West Central Avenue. Greg’s truck was parked right at the curb in front of us. It was pointed east. He started walking around to the driver’s side. A slow-moving westbound patrol car braked suddenly. It made a u-turn on the almost empty street. Greg stopped and walked back toward the sidewalk. Susanna started to run. Angela sprinted forward and grabbed Susanna’s arm. Susanna screamed.

  When I came out of the Coffee Corner, Greg was lunging at Angela. That was a mistake. She kicked him hard, where it hurt. He fell to the ground, curled up in pain. She dragged him to the sidewalk. Susanna jumped into the truck then. She sideswiped the patrol car and lurched east on West Central, accelerating fast.

  That was when she must have seen something in the intersection. Tony said it was a woman pushing a stroller. But he’s a sentimental kind of guy. I didn’t see anything. I was too busy hanging on to Greg. I figured it was one of the cops from a second car that turned up.

  Mark said it was a couple walking hand in hand. Susanna swerved to avoid whatever it was. She can’t have noticed the huge SUV heading into the intersection, speeding west. She ploughed head-on into it.

  She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.

  * * *

  “Thanks for your help,” I said to Mark Davies, shaking his hand.

  I wasn’t sure I meant it. He still seemed much too interested in Angela. And I had serious plans for change and reform in that direction.

  “I appreciate your help too,” he said. “You’ve saved us money and a lot of embarrassment.”

  “How?” I said. “You’ll pardon my asking, sir, but who are you?”

  Angela burst into laughter. “Really, Rick. Didn’t you know? He’s my boss,” she said. “Remember? I have a new job.”

  “What exactly do you do?” I asked her.

  “I work for an insurance company,” said Angela. “Imperial and Northern. Investigating fraud.”

  “And she’s very good at it,” said Mark. “I’m here because Cheryl was insured with us. But I wanted to talk to you anyway. And I appreciated being able to watch you work. Angela’s told me a lot about you.”

  “She has?”

  “Yes. We need another investigator. It would be good to have someone on the team who speaks Spanish.”

  He took a business card from his pocket. “Think about it. Call me if you’re interested.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ANGELA: ONCE MORE

  The business of giving statements had taken the better part of the afternoon.

  They let me observe Greg’s interview. It was interesting.

  “I never wanted to have anything to do with it,” he said. “I loved her and I just wanted to marry her. I told her I was making enough money for both of us. She could have quit work if she wanted. But this guy had offered her a lot of money if she would help him out. And to do it, she needed my truck.”

  “What did she want you to do?”

  “Drive over to the jail on Friday morning,” he said.

  “That’s it? Just drive over to the jail.”

  “We met this guy. Paco. He was there to pick up a friend who had no place to stay. So Susanna was going to let him have Rick’s apartment. Just until he found his own place.”

  “Was this person Fred Hancock?”

  “They called him Freddie. No one ever told me his last name. He seemed scared to death. He climbed in the back. We went and picked up groceries and took him to Susanna’s house. Cheryl was at work.”

  “Tell us about Wednesday.”

  “I picked her up at noon from work,” he said in a low voice. “We met this Paco again. He picked up some stuff and put it in the back of the truck. We drove to Susanna’s place. Cheryl was home, and Susanna made us all some lunch. Except Paco. He went down to see Freddie. Cheryl got really sleepy, and we helped her to bed…” He started to sob. After several minutes of that, the interview was terminated.

  I left feeling sick.

  * * *

  Now I was standing in the living room of Angela’s apartment. I was not sure what to do next. Until these last three days, Angela and I hadn’t seen each other since May. That night in May, we had gone out for dinner to talk things over. The lighting in the restaurant was suitably romantic. I ordered a bottle of wine. The music was soft and the food and wine were good. We went back to my apartment. We had decided to give our marriage another chance.

  It didn’t work. I was in a foul temper in the morning. I had a headache from too much wine. And we fought. They were the same fights about the same things. Like the ones we had before she threw me out. That was when I decided to leave for the farm. Now I was standing under a bright light in the middle of the room. Angela was looking out the window.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “About what?”

  “About the job with Imperial. What did you think I meant?”

  “I didn’t know,” I said. “It was a real coincidence that Cheryl was insured with your boss’s company, wasn’t it?”

  “Not really,” said Angela. “Like he said, they were friends. She was the one who told me he was looking for another investigator. Poor guy. He was really upset about her death.”

  “He seems to be nice.”

  “He is,” said Angela. “I like him a lot.”

  I had a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach just thinking of him and Angela. He was probably neat. And never got drunk and said stupid things he didn’t mean.

  “Look. I’d better go. You must be tired. It’s been a really long day.”

  “I think there’s food in the refrigerator. Let’s make supper. Unless you really want to get out of here.”

  There was no answer to that.

  * * *

  “Sit down,” she said. We had eaten and talked about everything and nothing. We had cleaned up the kitchen. Angela seemed in a good mood. “I thought we should celebrate another success,” she said. “Just a minute.”

  She came back with a beer and two glasses.

  “Is this a test?” I asked.

  “Sort of,” she said, pouring out the beer.

  She sat down on the couch. I was in a big chair across from her.

  “What did you call me about?” I asked. “I don’t know what happened to your message. I’m really sorry. I got other messages, so I thought the machine was working okay.”

  “Susanna probably checked out your messages. She must have deleted the ones she didn’t want you to get.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “She always snooped around. What was it about? The case?”

  “No,” she said. “I wanted to let you know…” She stared out the window and shook her head. As if she couldn’t get the words out.

  “What?” I had to find out. “You wanted to tell me you were involved with someone else?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Rick,” she said angrily. “I wanted you to know that I was pregnant. But it didn’t matter. I lost the baby. That was my second message.” Her voice was bitter and unhappy. “So you don’t have to worry about it.”

  I left the chair. I crouched down in front of her and grabbed her hands. “My god, Angela. I swear I didn’t know. That’s why you fixed up the junk room.”

  “Yes, that’s why.”

  “That bitch! I would have come right back. As soon as I got the first message. I would have.”

  “Maybe someone else erased the message,” said Angela.

  “It had to be Susanna,” I said. “She had a set of keys. She could get in the apartmen
t whenever she wanted. And she didn’t want me back too soon.”

  “And she knew you,” said Angela. “She knew you would come back. That’s what bothered me. I knew you would too. I needed you.” Tears spilled down her cheeks.

  I stood up and pulled her close.

  “I’m here, Angela. Kind of late, but I’m here.”

  I held her tight until the tears stopped.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t leave you alone tonight after all,” I said. “I’ll sleep on the couch. We can talk in the morning.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said. “We have a perfectly good bed. And after all, we’re still married, aren’t we?”

  I turned off the lights and followed her into our bedroom.

  Mystery writer CAROLINE MEDORA SALE ROE is the author of fourteen novels. As Medora Sale, she has written six police procedurals, including Murder on the Run, winner of an Arthur Ellis Award for best first novel. The author is a past president of both the international organization Sisters in Crime and the Crime Writers of Canada. She lives with her husband in Toronto.