by B. J Daniels
There was a tap on his door. He motioned for Dobson to come in.
‘‘Insurance policies?’’ he asked without preamble.
‘‘Just the ones Mr. and Mrs. Sanders had on each other for five hundred thousand. As for alibis…’’ Dobson consulted his notebook. ‘‘Mrs. Sanders left work about eleven a.m. and didn’t return. She had no showings on her schedule and couldn’t be reached by cell phone. Not that that means much in this area.’’
‘‘What about the candy shop?’’
‘‘The clerks there know Mrs. Sanders well, said she comes in a lot to buy candy for her receptionist and clients.’’
Jack raised a brow.
‘‘The receptionist says Mrs. Sanders has never purchased her candy or any other gift,’’ Dobson said, looking pleased with himself for anticipating the question. ‘‘The receptionist said Mrs. Sanders always keeps chocolate in her locked bottom drawer.’’ Dobson nodded. ‘‘There were wrappers in the drawer from Sweet Things.’’
So she’d lied about chocolate. And she shopped at Sweet Things. That didn’t mean she’d killed Peggy. But it definitely could have gotten her killed had she gotten into the chocolates before Peggy.
‘‘Good job,’’ he told Dobson. He noted that Mitzy had bought the candy for herself as cover, just as Tempest had said a woman might do. But it didn’t prove she’d bought the extra box. ‘‘And Mr. Sanders?’’
‘‘No one saw him leave his office. He walked to work that morning, taking the trail between The Riverside and his office.’’
Jack nodded. ‘‘So there is little chance anyone would have seen him coming or going unless they’d been on the trail. See if you can find someone.’’
Dobson nodded. ‘‘Also no one remembers him shopping at Sweet Things, but they sold dozens of boxes of chocolates exactly like the one Mr. Sanders had Ms. Kane purchase.’’
Jack nodded, suspecting as much.
‘‘I stopped by the bank like you asked.’’ Dobson dropped several large manila envelopes on the table. ‘‘These are bank accounts for both Sanders and Peggy Kane, including canceled checks.’’
Dobson had the look of a man who’d just won the lottery. Or discovered oil in his backyard. ‘‘I saved the best for last. Peggy Kane only recently took out an insurance policy on herself. Five hundred thousand dollars. Guess who the beneficiary is?’’
‘‘Oliver Sanders,’’ Tempest said, appearing in the doorway behind Dobson.
‘‘Oh yeah!’’ Dobson said and smiled.
Jack motioned her in. ‘‘Thanks, Dobson. Good work. Let me know if you find anyone who can verify Oliver Sanders’s whereabouts during the time in question. Any prints on that key that was in the elevator?’’
Dobson shook his head. ‘‘Too smudged to get a clear latent.’’
Jack nodded, afraid that would be the case.
After the deputy left, Tempest gave him the items they’d taken from Oliver’s safe. ‘‘Find anything interesting?’’ Jack asked.
She shook her head. ‘‘He was into all kinds of developments, a real wheeler-dealer, but nothing unusual or suspicious that I could find.’’
‘‘Well, let’s see if there’s anything in the bank statements,’’ he said as she took a chair across from him.
It didn’t take but a few minutes to see a pattern—just not the one Jack had been expecting.
Mitzi had been making large withdrawals from her account for the last six months. A few days later that money had been showing up in Peggy Kane’s account.
‘‘Peggy was blackmailing Mitzy?’’ Jack asked, confused as all hell.
‘‘Think it was the photos you found in the safe?’’ Tempest said.
‘‘If so, what was Oliver doing with them then?’’
She shrugged, eyes bright with interest. ‘‘I guess there is only one way to find out.’’
* * *
MITZY WAS SHOWING a three-million dollar log house near the ski hill, the receptionist at her office told them.
‘‘At least she and Oliver weren’t so distraught over Peggy’s death they couldn’t work,’’ Tempest commented as they drove up the mountain and parked in front of the massive house.
As they got out and went in, an older couple was climbing into a Suburban with out-of-state plates.
Mitzy seemed startled to see them on her turf. ‘‘You aren’t interested in a house, are you, Jack?’’ She looked at him expectantly. More than likely she just wondered if he could afford this place. More to the point, if Frannie had left him enough, since Frannie had come from money, not him.
He didn’t bite. ‘‘Why was Peggy blackmailing you?’’
‘‘Peggy?’’ Mitzy blinked and grabbed the back of one of the chairs at the breakfast bar for support. ‘‘Peggy Kane?’’ She paled, then flushed. ‘‘Why, that bitch.’’
Either she hadn’t known who was blackmailing her. Or she was a damned good actress.
‘‘What did she have on you?’’ Jack asked.
Mitzy glanced at him, then at Tempest.
‘‘Tempest is the new undersheriff,’’ Jack qualified. ‘‘If you’d rather, the three of us could discuss this at my office.’’
Mitzy regarded him for a moment, then walked out to the redwood deck that ran the length of the house, dug around in her coat pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She lit one and took a long drag, letting the smoke out slowly as she stared down at the clutters of buildings that made up the town below. Jack and Tempest shot each other a look, then followed her outside.
It was cold, the sky dark with the promise of more snow, but the deck had been shoveled off. Jack figured that was Mitzy’s doing. The place had better curb appeal without making clients trudge through the eight inches of new snow that had fallen the night before to get to the front door.
‘‘My parents invested here before the ski hill went in,’’ Mitzy said when they joined her. ‘‘This is my home. Other people have left, but I stayed.’’ There was pride in her voice. ‘‘I’ve done what I’ve had to to survive here.’’
She finally looked at them. ‘‘And I’ve done well.’’
Obviously it pissed her off royally that she’d been sharing that money with a blackmailer. Especially Peggy Kane, her husband’s secretary.
‘‘What did Peggy have on you?’’ he asked again.
Mitzy took another long drag, stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it into the nearest snowbank. She let the smoke roll out. Her words fell hard as the granite countertops in the expensive kitchen behind them. ‘‘I met this photographer. He told me he thought I could be a model so he talked me into posing for a few shots.’’
Jack felt Tempest’s gaze on him. ‘‘Nude photos?’’
‘‘What do you think?’’ Mitzy snapped. ‘‘It had been years, then about six months ago, I got an anonymous letter demanding money or the photos would end up on a Web page and everyone in River’s Edge would have the address.’’
‘‘What means did you use to pay?’’ Jack asked, already knowing where the money had ended up.
‘‘A post office box in California,’’ Mitzy said. ‘‘And yes, I tried to find out who had the box. It was just one of those blind address things.’’ She turned to look at him. ‘‘You’re positive it was Peggy?’’
‘‘The money was going from your account to hers within a matter of hours,’’ he hedged.
‘‘You probably think that I killed her now,’’ Mitzy said. ‘‘Well, I wish to hell I had.’’ With that, she turned and walked back to lock the house, before heading to her black Ford Explorer. Jack noted that the car was exactly like the one Peggy had bought for herself and wondered if Mitzy hadn’t noticed as well.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BACK AT THE OFFICE, Jack didn’t say a word as he dropped a sheet of paper on the interrogation room table in front of Oliver. The paper was a copy of the doodles from Peggy’s scratchpad where she’d written ‘‘Mrs. Peggy Sanders’’ around the border a half dozen times.
Tempest sat and, at Jack’s nod, reached over to hit the record button on the tape recorder.
Oliver watched her for a moment, then looked down at the piece of paper, and for the first time, seemed to really see it and what was written on it. He stiffened and sat back a little as if trying to distance himself from it and what was coming.
‘‘It seems Peggy thought she was going to be the next Mrs. Sanders,’’ Jack said. ‘‘Why is that?’’
Oliver swallowed and slowly raised his gaze. ‘‘I guess it’s no secret she was in love with me.’’
‘‘Not anymore,’’ Jack said. ‘‘Did you know Peggy kept a date book with all your clandestine dates in it, including your plans for Valentine’s Day?’’
Oliver shot a look at Tempest, then Jack. He dropped his face in his hands, his body jerking as he burst into racking sobs.
Jack pulled up a chair to wait. Tempest stared at a spot on the wall over Oliver’s head, seemingly unaffected by the display.
After a few moments, Oliver stopped sobbing, pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes and nose with quick, angry swipes as if embarrassed.
‘‘I was in love with her,’’ Oliver said without looking at either of them. ‘‘Valentine’s Day I was going to tell Mitzy I was leaving her. After my birthday, Peggy and I were going to blow this place and not look back.’’
‘‘Kind of cold to tell your wife you’re leaving her on Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?’’ Jack said.
‘‘I couldn’t keep lying to Mitzy, to myself. I couldn’t keep...pretending.’’ He looked to Jack as if he might understand. ‘‘Mitzy and I only married because it seemed like the thing to do. High school sweethearts and all that crap. Everyone kept saying we were so perfect for each other. Especially my parents. What could I do but marry her?’’
Jack could see how Oliver might have gotten swept up in that. A lot of young couples did—and later regretted it. Probably the reason divorce rates were so high. It was hard to decide what to do with your life at eighteen—let alone who you wanted to spend the rest of it with.
‘‘How long had you been having the affair?’’ Jack asked.
Oliver stared at the paper on the table, no doubt thinking it was all written down in the date book. ‘‘About six months.’’
‘‘Is there any chance Mitzy found out?’’ Jack had to ask.
Oliver looked up in surprise. ‘‘No, I mean...you don’t think Mitzy....’’ He shook his head. ‘‘Mitzy can be a real bitch, but murder?’’
‘‘How do you think she’d have taken the news about you leaving?’’
He shrugged and looked away. ‘‘I don’t know. I thought she might be relieved, you know. She would have been pissed. At first. But she doesn’t need me. She never has.’’
‘‘And Peggy did?’’
‘‘Yeah.’’ He looked as if he might cry again.
Jack still wasn’t sure he believed the first breakdown, but he was one suspicious SOB and he knew it. ‘‘So who do you think poisoned Peggy?’’
He wagged his head. ‘‘Maybe Peggy decided to take things into her own hands, you know—’’ he stopped as if horrified by the idea ‘‘—kill Mitzy, but then got confused or scared and accidentally mixed up the boxes of chocolates.’’
Jack loved the way Oliver was trying to make it look like Peggy killed herself—accidentally, of course. Tempest had a look of disgust on her face.
‘‘Or maybe that was the plan all along?’’ she said to Oliver.
He looked confused.
‘‘To kill Mitzy,’’ she clarified. ‘‘You sent your secretary out to buy your wife Valentine’s Day presents, why not send your secretary out to kill your wife?’’
‘‘What?’’ Oliver cried. ‘‘I didn’t want to kill Mitzy. But who knows what Peggy might have been thinking.’’
‘‘Yes, who knows,’’ Jack agreed, as disgusted with Oliver as Tempest was by her expression.
Oliver was tearful again. ‘‘I didn’t want to hurt either one of them.’’
‘‘But Mitzy was bound to be hurt when you told her you were leaving her for another woman,’’ Tempest noted. ‘‘Surely you didn’t really think Mitzy was going to take it well.’’
Oliver shrugged. ‘‘I guess I just hoped...’’ He put his face in his hands again.
‘‘Maybe Peggy didn’t believe you would leave your wife,’’ Tempest suggested.
‘‘No.’’ Oliver raised his head. ‘‘She knew I was going to tell Mitzy last night. That’s what makes it all so awful.’’
‘‘So what was the point of buying Mitzy all the expensive presents if you were dumping her?’’ Jack asked.
‘‘Just keeping up the pretense one last time,’’ Oliver said. ‘‘Everyone in this town knows us, knows when we sneeze. I wanted people to think Mitzy and I were just fine. I guess I wanted to spare her any humiliation, especially on Valentine’s Day.’’
‘‘But you were going to tell her you were leaving her,’’ Jack said.
‘‘Yeah, but no one would have had to have known,’’ Oliver said as if it made perfect sense to him.
It did to Jack, too. ‘‘Until you’d left town. Then she would have been humiliated, but you wouldn’t have been here or what would you care, right?’’
Oliver looked at him. ‘‘You of all people know I’ve never been good at facing up to things.’’
No, Jack thought, remembering the cheating incident only too well.
‘‘Peggy must have put the poison in the chocolates,’’ Oliver said as if to himself.
‘‘The thing is, Oliver, I don’t believe Peggy mixed up the boxes of candy,’’ Tempest said. ‘‘I’ve seen her work area and her files. She was too efficient, too methodical.’’
Oliver swallowed. ‘‘Well, then...’’ He shook his head. ‘‘I just can’t believe it was Mitzy...unless she found out about us.’’
‘‘How could she not?’’ Jack demanded. ‘‘I can’t believe you could have had an affair in this small town without everyone knowing about it.’’
‘‘I rented a condo in another town. We met there. Or went to dinner in other towns. Since we worked together, no one was the wiser.’’
Jack wondered about that. ‘‘You never met at the penthouse or her apartment?’’
‘‘Never.’’ Oliver seemed to relax as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. ‘‘Mitzy must have found out somehow. I’m glad it’s all out in the open.’’
Jack glanced at Tempest, then dropped the bomb. ‘‘Maybe what Mitzy found out was that you were blackmailing her with those old photos in your safe and giving the money to your mistress.’’
Shock ran like a bolt of electricity through Oliver, leaving him pale and trembling. ‘‘Oh, Christ,’’ he mumbled.
‘‘You had the photos. Peggy had the money. The evidence is in the bank accounts,’’ Jack said. ‘‘Mitzy withdrew it and Peggy put it in her account a couple of days later. Mitzy told us about the photos. The ones I found in your safe just this morning, so don’t even try to deny it.’’
Oliver slumped in his chair, shoulders hunched, and for a moment, Jack thought the man would cry again and the crying was getting tiresome. ‘‘It was Peggy.’’
‘‘You’re saying the blackmail was her idea?’’ Tempest asked. ‘‘She knew about the photos?’’
Oliver shook his head. ‘‘Peggy thought the money was mine. She’d never had anything, you know? I just wanted to give her...something.’’
‘‘In other words, she was demanding things?’’ Jack asked.
Oliver looked up, blinked, his eyes moist. ‘‘It wasn’t like that. I wanted to give her things.’’ He looked to Tempest as if he thought she might understand.
‘‘Peggy and Mitzy were more than you could afford,’’ Tempest guessed.
‘‘I had no other choice but to get money from Mitzy,’’ Oliver said irritably. ‘‘The hotel wasn’t doing that well, I had money tied up in the new condo devel
opment and my mother was taking everything else. I just needed to hang in a few more weeks until my birthday.’’
‘‘Couldn’t you have taken money from your joint account?’’ Jack asked.
Oliver shook his head. ‘‘Mitzy had her own checking account. She put all her money into it and never let me touch a cent of it.’’
So that was it. Jack shook his head. Why did it always come down to money?
There was a tap at the door. Deputy Dobson stuck his head in, handed Tempest some papers and gave her a smile. The door closed.
Tempest looked down at the documents the deputy had given her, then said, ‘‘Is that why you took out an insurance policy on Peggy? Five hundred thousand dollars with you as the beneficiary.’’ She looked up. ‘‘What was that, insurance just in case she should eat some poison chocolates?’’
Jack was surprised. Oliver looked shocked.
‘‘I don’t know anything about an insurance policy.’’ Oliver sat up, looking scared now. ‘‘I’m telling the truth. You have to believe me.’’
‘‘You’re saying Peggy did it all on her own?’’ Jack asked.
‘‘She must have.’’
‘‘Why would Peggy do that?’’ Tempest asked quietly.
‘‘How should I know?’’ Oliver cried.
‘‘Maybe she thought something was going to happen to her,’’ Tempest suggested.
Oliver was sweating bullets. ‘‘I don’t know. I mean, maybe she was worried things wouldn’t go well with Mitzy when I told her. Maybe she thought Mitzy might...do something.’’
‘‘Like kill her?’’ Jack asked. ‘‘So she wanted you to have some money?’’
‘‘Maybe.’’ Even Oliver was finding that scenario hard
to swallow.
‘‘Maybe...she...meant...to...kill...herself.’’
‘‘Or maybe,’’ Tempest said, ‘‘Peggy was worried you might try to off her. The insurance money would make you look awfully suspicious. So would the date book in her apartment and the Valentine that was found clutched in her hand in your foyer.’’