Alive After Friday (Sandy Reid Mystery Series)

by Rod Hoisington

  “Might have been something physical, mid-life stuff maybe.” Sandy didn’t want to interrupt him.

  “I suppose the age fits. I don’t know about that stuff. Possibly my fault I didn’t get her help. At first, I didn’t confront her about her behavior. Early on, I didn’t mind, in fact I encouraged her. She had seemed so down. Hated her job and all that. Yet, it seemed so sudden. One day, she didn’t want to look at herself in the mirror and the next she’s a blonde-haired vixen ready to vamp. Wouldn’t have been surprised if she showed up with a tattoo. Maybe she did get one. I didn’t see any of her body from then on.”

  “So, she didn’t like her life and was doing something to change it. Still, we’re talking about cheating. Where does Boyd come in?”

  “That’s what I was getting to. Sadly, I discovered, she’d done none of it for my benefit.” He paused and stared at her. “You call your husband Boyd?”

  “Ah...sometimes. Silly isn’t it?”

  “Look, I’m not suggesting it was all your husband’s fault. I don’t blame you personally for any of this. Your husband is fifteen-years younger than my wife. I can see where she’d be excited about all the new found...attention. Oh, I’m sorry. This has to be painful for you to hear me talk about him. You most likely had no more control over Cal than I had over Myra. In fact, it might all be my fault. I should have given more thought to her...physical needs. But after years of marriage...well, you’ve heard that old story before.” He glanced over wondering if his employee could overhear.

  “I didn’t catch on to everything all at once. She began going to a health club working out trying to lose weight. And I noticed she was getting all dolled up for work. Bought some new things. Might as well get some use out of them, she said. I guess you know she’s a bookkeeper for a trucking company. Jeans with a nice top are fine for the women there. She started wearing shorter skirts and blouses like an uptown office.”

  Sandy was trying to maintain her bland expression. Yet, she felt sorry for the guy and couldn’t help screwing up her face at some things he said.

  “Almost immediately, I began to lose track of her. She’d go in early, come home late. Suddenly, she’s a social butterfly, to hear her tell it. Always off to some girl’s shower or birthday party. ‘All the girls are dressing up,’ she’d say. She’d skip dinner, or go out after, to do something. I’d ask where she’d been, she’d say out for a drive. Then she’d have sudden outbursts. She’d start an argument and then say she had to go for a drive to calm down. She always put on lipstick and perfume to go for one of her drives.”

  “From the sounds of it, she wasn’t very good at cheating. At any rate, she took up with the new guy at work.” Sandy was sympathetic but wished he’d talk about Cal and money. “How did you find out about it?”

  “My sister, Gail, told me Myra confided in her, they had always been quite friendly. Myra admitted she had been seeing some guy at work for about six months and started sharing intimate details. Even though I had my suspicions, it really hurt to have it all confirmed. Gail didn’t like what Myra was doing at all. Still, she couldn’t resist listening to the play-by-play accounts. She met him once at the house. Just a dumb overgrown kid, she said. Couldn’t see what Myra saw in him.”

  “What’s Gail’s last name?” Sounded like his sister might be a good source of information.

  He ignored her. “Eventually, it became blatant. Myra would talk with him on the phone in front of me. She didn’t like sneaking around, she said. So, to show how much she loved me, she wanted to be open and not deceive me anymore. I discovered he was coming to the house, when I wasn’t there. Gail told me she was there one Saturday talking to Myra when he waltzes in. Like he did it all the time—didn’t even ring the doorbell. Gail yelled and told him to leave, even followed him out and gave him a long talking to at the curb. I started staying at the office and sleeping there. My sister just bought a new condominium, so now I can stay over there if I want.”

  “A new condo, you say.” Anything related to money with this group was of interest to Sandy.

  “Yes, just last week. And near the ocean too. I didn’t even know she was looking. In fact, I’m going over there for dinner and probably stay with her tonight. She’s very sympathetic. I’ve told her everything. She liked Myra to start with but lately has been angry about how I’m being treated. Myra can’t resist bragging about everything Cal Boyd does, and Gail can’t resist listening.”

  “Your wife was observed spending money big time. Bought that new car, new furniture and appliances. Where did you suppose that money came from?”

  “Running up credit cards, I suppose. She hides the bills. I know she spent a lot of money on him. According to Gail, she bought him clothes, paid for a major repair on his truck and got him a new bike. I tried to talk with her. Couldn’t she see this guy was just using her to get money or something? Didn’t she understand she was paying for the sex she got? She really didn’t like that comment. She said money had nothing to do with his love for her, and they might run away together.”

  “Yes, I saw the bike. Why’d he want a bike?”

  “You tell me. He’s your husband.”

  “Be thankful he didn’t want a motorcycle.”

  “I suppose it’s good you can find some humor in it.”

  Sandy was uncomfortable pretending to me Boyd’s wife, yet she was getting some good information. “Tell me about your sister Gail. Is her new condo nearby?”

  “Why are you interested in her?”

  “I’m not. Is her last name Cramer?”

  “Holman.” He was annoyed. “Look, this has nothing to do with my sister.”

  “I guess she’s married, huh?”

  He ignored the question. “One morning I came out of my bedroom and Myra was holding a gun she found in the couch cushion. He’d slept there at least once. I know nothing about guns, but it was black and ugly. Scared the hell out of us. She set it up on a shelf to give back to him. I said I didn’t want his kind of dirt in the house, so I took the gun and I locked it up here in my office safe. Still in there... over there.”

  She shook her head. “Why are you putting up with this bullshit?”

  “Why are you putting up with it? You don’t have to answer. I don’t really want to divorce her, but what’s left? I talked with my lawyer, the guy who handles my business stuff. We both agreed I simply couldn’t afford the expense of the divorce and the loss of my hard-earned savings. It would take years for my business to build back up and for my finances to recover. He advised me not to move out. Myra would clean me out and take the house. I wish she’d just disappear.”

  “So, you’re in limbo. Emotionally separated but mostly sleeping at the office or at your sister’s.”

  “He hasn’t been around for a couple of weeks. Maybe the affair is over. Maybe they got tired of each other.”

  “If he’s out of the picture for good, would you take her back?” Until Sandy was certain where Ryan fit into all this, she wasn’t going to tell him that the guy was already out of the picture and on a slab in Park Beach.

  “Even if I did, how would I get the images out of my head? He has treated you badly also. Are you going to take him back?”

  She turned away from him.

  “What did you say your name was, Reid?” He was puzzled and stared at her. “I thought Cal’s last name was Boyd.”

  She hesitated for a full minute before answering, “I’m not his wife. Cal Boyd was never married.

  “You’re not!” He had to stop and think. Then his eyes widened. “Dear God, this is monstrous...why did you let me embarrass myself like this? None of this is any of your business.”

  Sandy felt ashamed. Terrible how she’d led him on like that. There might have been a more straightforward way of getting the same information out of him. She’d taken the easy way using pretension and deceit. “Ryan, you have my sympathy, but I’m not the one the one to guide you and offer you any healing. You seem to have a good relationship with your
sister. Have you opened up and talked all this over with her?”

  He stood. “Get out of my office!”

  “Ryan, please try to understand why all this was necessary. I’m not a disinterested stranger. I’ve a huge stake in this. I had to get at the truth. And I’m still trying to decide if you’re complicit in any of this.”

  “Complicit in what?”

  He didn’t need to know. “Some very heavy stuff.” Although he’d poured his heart out, she wasn’t willing to tell him about the four hundred thousand dollars, or that Boyd was dead. How could he understand? “Here’s my card. Phone me if somehow I can help you. I do want to help you.”

  “Now there are two women I want out of my life. Myra and you. I don’t want to see either of you ever again.”

  She decided it was best to say nothing more at that point. She placed her business card on his desk, picked up one of his and quietly left Ryan Cramer holding his head in his hands.

  Once back at her car, she drove across the street and found a space in the convenience store parking lot facing the Garden of Eden Design building. She assumed eventually, Ryan Cramer would drive off in one of the two green panel trucks parked near the entrance. He had said he was going to his sister’s for dinner. She searched for Gail Holman on her tablet. An address in Palm Beach Gardens came up. That wasn’t near the ocean, she knew that much. She punched it into her GPS anyway. Thirty minutes later the young man left the landscape design building and drove off in one of the panel trucks. Ryan was still inside.

  She used the time sitting there to phone Chip. Mainly, she wanted him to know where she was staying. The FBI joint task force was keeping him busy with twelve-hour days. He was glad she phoned and pleased to hear her stay down in West Palm was paying off, and they had definitely traced Boyd to West Palm.

  “Yes, he was living a soap opera down here with some guy’s wife. They didn’t even need a motel, the husband would leave when they wanted to use the bedroom.”

  “I can’t wait for the movie,” Chip said. “I really miss you, sweetheart. I’ve an idea. If you’re still down there in a couple of days, when I get off this drug task force and back to a normal schedule, I’m going to come down after work and we’ll have a night together.”

  “Super. Now I’ll be thinking about that all day. Love you.”

  After they hung up, she phoned Martin who had parked for two hours in a lot across the road from Bristol Trucking. He had nothing interesting to report so far. Almost quitting time at the trucking company and Myra never returned.

  “Okay, you can call it quits as soon as they lock up there. I’m sitting here until Ryan leads me to Gail.” She wondered if she had time to run in the convenience store and grab a coffee. “I might be late getting back to the Marriott. If so, I’ll meet you there for breakfast. Just one other thing. If you wouldn’t mind. Make one last run past Myra’s house. See if there’s any sign of her there...oh, oh, my target just left the building. I hope I don’t lose him in the traffic. Later, kiddo.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  At six the next morning, Sandy rang Martin’s West Palm Beach hotel room. He’d already showered and was dressing. She was at a table in the dining room when he came in. His coffee was waiting. He had nothing interesting to report. Yesterday afternoon when the trucking company closed up and everyone left, Myra still hadn’t returned. He drove past the Cramer house in West Palm Beach one last time and saw no signs of life.

  “How about your meeting with Ryan?” he asked.

  The server came over and looked at Sandy who said, “Scrambled eggs with whole wheat toast and OJ.”

  Martin said, “I’ll have Egg Benedict, please. And orange juice.” As the young lady moved away, he said, “I wonder what our choice of eggs says about each of us? I’m too organized to consider scrambled anything, and you’re too hard-boiled to eat a poached egg,” he chuckled at his little quip. “So what did you find out from the husband?”

  “It seems his wife, Myra, met Boyd when he started working at Bristol Trucking. They became hot and heavy lovers according to the emotional session I went through with Ryan. No surprise there. From the suggestive comments Boyd directed at me while I was on my knees in the woods, I pictured him young and sexually obsessed.”

  “That’s redundant,” he said with a smile. “Anyway, we know he was twenty-five and I thought Myra was older. Almost twice his age. Unless Myra was some hot sexy number I have difficulty imagining that affair.”

  “I don’t. Boyd gets the new job at Bristol and there’s Myra being extra nice to him. She didn’t have to be any great seductress, she just needed to send out the come-screw-me signals every young male that age is watching for. She saw excitement. So, the neckline inched down and the hemline inched up.”

  “That explains him going for it once, not an extended hot and heavy affair. I believe something else was going on between them.”

  “She was spending a lot of money on him, according to her husband.”

  “Well okay, you didn’t tell me that. Yes, that would do it.”

  She said, “I should have mentioned that. You’re correct, at his age he saw her as much older. Sure, the age thing was a real killer for a guy so young, but he was willing to overlook it. She was an easy score and would spend money on him.”

  “So, we have two shifty characters. One always willing to take chances and break all the rules and the other in a mid-life crisis willing to do anything to please him.”

  “But that doesn’t mean they’re together committing crimes. No, I don’t believe Myra is Jane. She loved him and wouldn’t have shot her boyfriend in the park.” He was thinking aloud. “We’re trying to reconstruct Boyd’s life down here, okay? We learn that he worked at Bristol Trucking and was having an affair with the bookkeeper. The affair is no doubt why she ran when she saw you at her office. She doesn’t have to be Jane just because she ran. And if she’s not Jane then the trail ends there.”

  Sandy said, “Except that she’s running around spending a lot of money. You said Myra’s neighbor spoke of all her shopping, and Ryan did also. And she bought a fancy new car. Where did that money come from? We can’t eliminate her as Jane. We need to keep on digging into the lives of Ryan and Myra Cramer.”

  “And what do we know about sister Gail?” he asked.

  “Last name is Holman. I know where she lives in the high-rent district—the Magnolia Palms. And it’s not where the Internet directory says she lives, so she must have moved recently. I followed Ryan there, a ten-story condominium only three blocks from the water. So she must have some bucks. I wonder what she does for a living.”

  “With privacy the way it is today, you’ll find everything you want to know about her, I’m sure.”

  “Ryan parked in the guest parking last night at his sister’s. I watched his truck until after dark, and he didn’t leave. He told me he’d most likely stay the night. I stayed up late last night with my tablet and on the Internet found a Gail Holman at a completely different address over in Palm Beach Gardens. That has to be her, but the address doesn’t match. I’m going over there this morning and nose around.”

  “And you want me to keep following Myra because the Cramers are spending a lot of money and it might be ours.”

  “Yes. Parking in her neighborhood can lead to problems. And there’s no sense in following her from home to work. So, go straight to the trucking company. If she doesn’t show up by nine or ten, then we may have a problem. I might have scared her enough for her to go into hiding. But I doubt it. She saw me but she knows I’ve no idea what Jane looks like. I believe she’d try to bluff it through. In any case, if she’s not at work, then go over to her house. You might need to talk to that neighbor woman again or actually knock on Myra’s door.”

  After breakfast, Martin got a coffee to go and left for Bristol Trucking. Intending to arrive just before eight so he could watch the place open and the employees show up. He’d seriously miscalculated the morning traffic, took two wrong turns
in spite of his GPS and didn’t get there until almost nine. The good news was he could park at the rear of the McDonald’s next door and look directly across to the rear lot of the trucking company.

  Some cars and pickups were already there. Two women arrived at nine, parked and went in the rear door. He didn’t know what Myra looked like, but didn’t see her black Kia anywhere. After an hour, he went into the McDonald’s and brought out a coffee. He waited one more hour, before giving up on Myra showing. He phoned Sandy to let her know, then punched his GPS and headed over to Myra’s neighborhood.

  After driving past the Cramer house, and observing a closed garage door and no sign of life. He parked at the curb two doors down and across the street in front of the nice neighbor woman with whom he’d chatted the day before. He was uncomfortable sitting in a parked car out in the open on that street. In such nice neighborhoods folks aren’t at all reluctant to call the police.

  He moved over and sat in the passenger seat as though waiting for someone. Not twenty minutes later, he noticed a police patrol car slowly prowling up behind him. Martin stiffened in his seat. The cop pulled around and stopped heading in to the curb in front of his car. Had someone reported him? He could see the officer using his radio and assumed he was being checked out. Martin thought he should explain. He left his car and started walking toward the parked police car. The noon air was blazing hot; he should have left his suit jacket in the car.