The young man pointed to a one-story structure encircled by trees. “That’s his office.”
“The whole building?”
“Yes sir.”
Jeff frowned at him. “Don’t call me sir. I’m like three years older than you.” He waited for the younger man to leave before heading to Randy’s. He tried the door. Locked. He pulled from his pocket a home-fashioned L-shaped strip of copper and a custom-made pick with a tulipwood handle and aluminum blade. With little effort, he turned the tumbler and opened the door.
The office itself was unremarkable – a large desk in the center of tacky-art-covered walls. “Randy Graham has sippy cup taste on a crystal glass budget.” Behind the desk was another door. He tried the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. “Locked too. A bit of overkill.” He picked the lock and flicked the light switch on the other side. “Oh my god!”
Filtered light exposed a room much more interesting than Randy’s office. Jeff stepped inside and toured the sandalwood-scented space to take in all the tantric elements within its leather-quilted walls – erotic Indian artwork of copulating deities, a massage table with stirrups, a shower/steam room, a meditation circle with a trove of feathers and shelves holding a variety of oils, straps, Ben Wa balls and other sexual enhancements.
“Hello, Mr. Grey.” Jeff turned off the light and locked the door again, returning to Randy Graham’s main office.
He noticed a large monitor on the wall. The screen was black, but he could hear it running. Sleep mode. He tapped the keyboard on the table below it. A split screen of twelve different video feeds appeared, each showing high-definition views of various areas at the complex – including the parking lot. He watched cars coming in and out of the lot for a few seconds before commenting, “He could’ve seen us arriving and known which car was mine. He had plenty of time to screw with my tire. Of course, he didn’t know us then so he would’ve never even noticed us.”
Virginia prepared herself for her first encounter with Becky since she accused her bereaved friend of having an affair. I’ll just apologize. I know her parents and in-laws were leaving this morning, so she’ll be all alone. No distractions. We can talk it out.
Virginia parked on the street and walked up the driveway to Becky’s house and across the walkway to the front door. As she did, movement between the living room curtains caught her attention. She glanced at first before peering with urgent interest. What?!
Virginia couldn’t believe her eyes. In the middle of the living room, Becky was seated in a chair from the dining room table, but not by choice. Standing before her, back to the window, was a man in a black ski mask. Becky was tied to the chair – a ball gag in her mouth and a knife held to the side of her neck.
Chapter 22
Virginia scurried to the back of Becky’s house, peeking in each window along the way for a better look at the intruder’s movements. She opened the screen door and squeezed the knob to the back door. Unlocked! She nudged it open, hoping it wouldn’t squeak. It didn’t.
As she tiptoed into the kitchen, she could hear the intruder’s voice but not discern his words. She scanned the room for a weapon and unsheathed the chef’s knife from the knife block. Staring at her reflection in the blade, she wondered what the hell she was doing. She replaced the knife and looked for something less bloodying.
Arms shaking and brandishing a copper skillet, Virginia emerged from the kitchen. The intruder was now standing behind the chair, the crotch of his black jeans rubbing the back of Becky’s head while he kept the knife near her throat. As Virginia crept toward him, she could make out what he was saying.
“Now I’m going to remove the ball from your mouth and give you something else to gag on.” He walked around the chair to stand in front of Becky. “You’re not going to scream. You’re going to be a good girl… Holy shit!” Seeing Virginia upon him with the skillet held high, the intruder dropped the knife and jumped back.
Virginia took a warning swing with the skillet. “Stay back, or I swear I’ll knock your head down so far, you can gag on it yourself!”
Becky looked up at her and tried to speak, but her words were muffled by the ball in her mouth.
Wearing a black thermal shirt that hugged his lean musculature, the tall man took another step back. “Look—”
“Just stay back!” Virginia kept the skillet high in her right hand and used the left to pull the gag from her friend’s mouth.
“Virginia.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to get you out of here.” Instead of gratefulness, Virginia saw anger in her friend’s eyes.
“What are you doing here?!”
The intruder took off his mask. “Tell her.”
“Tell me what?”
Becky nodded toward the man. “This is Randy Graham. He’s not an attacker. He’s a friend.”
Virginia knew immediately what she meant. She is having an affair!
Randy picked up the knife and ran it across his palm. “It’s a fake knife. We were roleplaying.”
At the sound of approaching sirens, Virginia gasped. “The police.”
“You called the police?!” Becky started struggling in her chair. “Someone untie me!”
Randy rushed to loosen the ropes that kept Becky’s hands behind the chair.
Virginia headed for the front door. “I’ll talk to them, explain it was a mistake.” She exited in time to see two patrol cars screech to a halt in front of the house. When the officers bolted forth, she put up her hands to calm the situation. “Hi. I’m the one who called.”
An officer threw his body between her and the house. “Miss, get behind the car! He could have a gun!”
“No, he doesn’t. I made a mistake. He’s not an intruder.”
The officer looked back at her as if trying to gauge her veracity and if she were under duress. “Stay back. I’ll check it out.” He entered the house, gun drawn, followed by three other officers. A moment later all four returned to the front yard, guns holstered, and walked past Virginia without saying a word.
Virginia went back inside the house to see Randy with his arm around her friend. “I’m so sorry, Becky. I didn’t know.”
“I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life!”
“I really did think you were in danger.”
Randy squeezed Becky. “It’s okay. It was just a misunderstanding.”
Becky broke from him. “That doesn’t make it any better.”
“I already said I’m sorry.” Virginia hardened her tone. “Look, I asked point-blank if you were having an affair, and you lied to me.”
“I said I wasn’t having an affair with Darren.”
“Exactly! I knew you were being purposely specific.” Virginia sighed. “Becky, why? Corey loved you. I thought you loved him.”
“I did love him. Don’t ever question that. It’s like I told you. He was a gentle man.”
Virginia turned her attention to Randy. “You gave her those bruises.”
Randy shrugged. “We got a little carried away.”
The front door slammed open, and Jeff bounded into the room, his blue-barreled PD10 drawn and ready to fire. “Is everyone okay?! What’s going on?”
Becky huffed. “You called your partner too?”
Jeff pointed to Randy. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ll fill you in.” Virginia grabbed Jeff’s arm and led him out to the front yard, explaining what had happened.
“It makes sense. Randy’s office looked like a padded cell for a sex-addict. So he was counseling Corey at the same time he was screwing his wife. I wonder if he told him to go to the rooftop just so he could kill him.”
“Maybe. I don’t know him.”
“Do you think they plotted together to get Corey out of the way?”
“No. I mean, I would’ve never believed Becky cheated before all of this.”
“Why don’t you head back to the office. I want to talk to Christian and Anastasia in there and get the truth out of them.”
“That’s my job.”
Virginia crossed her arms. “You know, I get a little sick of always being the one stuck in the office.”
His face reflecting genuine surprise, Jeff asked, “Really? Where is this coming from?”
“I’ve been feeling it for a while now. You get to go do everything while I stay behind.”
“That’s what you wanted.”
“Not anymore. When we made that arrangement, I had just left the service, and I was looking for peace. Well, I’ve found it, and it’s boring.”
“But without you there, who’s going to watch the office?”
Virginia rolled her eyes. “Who’s watching it now?”
“Exactly! We could be missing our next client because you’re not there.”
“Then why aren’t you there? Why does it have to be me? I swear, I just opened up to you, and all you’re focused on is having a body to greet clients.”
“Because that’s what we agreed to.”
“Well, I don’t agree to it anymore!”
Jeff grabbed her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way. We can talk about you doing more field work. Of course, that means we’d have to hire a secretary to be there full time.”
“See!” Virginia broke from him and jabbed a finger into his chest. “I knew that’s what you thought of me, that I’m just a secretary.”
“I don’t! Bad choice of words. Look, can we talk about this later? I need to interview them before they decide to leave.”
“We need to interview them.”
Jeff blocked her as she headed for the front. “No. I’m serious. You’re too close to this. I need to do it alone.”
Virginia hesitated before relenting. “Okay. But I’m taking the next lead we get.”
“Okay.”
She walked back to her car but had one parting word. “Alone.”
Jeff rapped on the front door to the Melton house. Becky opened it just enough to poke her face through and say, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s okay. I’ll just use my imagination to fill in the blanks when I tell the TBI how you and your boyfriend conspired to kill your husband.”
“What?!” he heard Randy shout from behind the door. “I didn’t kill anybody!”
Becky sighed and opened the door to let Jeff enter. Randy came to Becky’s side as if they were dinner hosts greeting guests. “I know this looks bad.”
Jeff entered the living room and inspected the chair where Becky had been held captive. “What it looks like is a motive for murder.”
Becky waved back and forth between Randy and herself. “This is not a motive for murder! I loved my husband.”
Jeff eyed her paramour. “I can see that.”
Randy picked his props off the floor. “We’re just having fun. But even if we were serious, we wouldn’t have had the oppor…” Mid-sentence, his words collided into a stern look from Becky.
Jeff grabbed the fake knife and pointed it at Randy. “Wait a second. Are you telling me she was your Monday, eight-thirty session?” When Randy didn’t answer, Jeff pointed the knife at Becky. “You were having sex with him while your husband was being thrown off a building?”
Becky lowered her head. “Yes.”
Jeff thought about it for a second. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
Becky looked up at him with more anger than shame. “Why on Earth would I lie about that?”
Randy spoke up for her. “She’s telling the truth.”
“If you two are each other’s alibi, then as far as I’m concerned, neither of you has an alibi. Well, Becky does just because she couldn’t have physically thrown him with the necessary force.” He pointed to Randy. “You, on the other hand, are still on the hook.”
“I didn’t kill Corey.” Randy held up his right hand. “I swear it. I honestly liked the guy.”
“Not enough to keep your hands off his wife.” Jeff waited for a response, but it never came. “While we’re on the subject of motives and alibis, let’s talk to you about the accident I had after leaving your place the other day.”
“What accident?”
“While at your holistic center, someone loosened the lug nuts on one of my tires. The tire came off and almost killed me and my partner.”
“And you think I had something to do with it? That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Jeff handed him the knife. “Maybe you’re right. I have to say, your center is very impressive.”
“Thanks. I put a lot of work into building a comprehensive facility with everything you could possibly want.”
“Here’s a question that’s been bugging me. How did you afford it?”
“I worked for it.”
Jeff laughed to get a rise out of him. “Get serious. How much money could you possibly make as a trainer/pseudo-therapist?”
Becky spoke up for him. “Just tell him the truth, Randy.”
“I am. I work hard.”
Becky rolled her eyes. “His parents gave him the money. They’re rich. Tobacco money.”
“They gave me the money to start, but that’s it! You think I liked taking it? That my whole upbringing was financed by the death and misery of others? I’ve devoted my life to health, to making sure other people are healthy. That investment was a way for my family to make amends. That’s how I justify it. I haven’t taken a dime from them since, and I won’t.”
Jeff tightened his lips to think for a moment. “You know, that I believe.” He turned his attention to Becky. “One more thing. I understand Corey had been looking into security systems before he died.”
Becky pointed to the panel near the front door. “We bought one. It was installed last week. I never remember to turn it on.”
“What prompted that decision?”
“I honestly don’t know. He just brought it up one night over dinner. He said something about break-ins in the neighborhood, but I hadn’t heard anything about them.”
“I can answer that.” Randy hesitated before elaborating. “Corey had become paranoid.”
“How do you mean?” Although Jeff asked the question, Becky looked like she was curious to hear the answer.
“He was convinced he was being watched.”
“Watched? Like someone was following him?”
“Not exactly.” Randy chuckled at what he was about to say. “He thought drones were following him.”
Becky joined Jeff in asking the next question. “Drones?”
“Yeah, he said he saw one hovering overhead once when he was driving to work.”
“That doesn’t mean it was watching him.”
“That’s what I told him, but he obviously didn’t like that answer, so he embellished the story. He said he also heard one outside at home – here – and when he looked out his bedroom window, the drone was right there watching him.”
Becky aimed her palms at the floor. “Here?! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t believe him. Why would anyone want to watch Corey?”
“You still should’ve told me.”
“What he told me was confidential, just like I didn’t tell him what we do.”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “This is why he should’ve been seeing a real, licensed therapist.” His phone chimed, and he checked it to see a picture had been texted to him. “Oh my god.”
Becky clutched her chest. “Now what?”
Chapter 23
When Emory turned onto the gravel road leading to Mary Belle Hinter’s former property, he caught another glance of her right hand, which had been vise-gripped on the door handle for the past five miles. With her free hand, she pointed. “M’ driveway’s up ona right.”
Emory looked where she directed and noticed an obstruction. “There’s a chain across it. I’ll just pull off the side of the road up here.” He drove past her driveway before parking.
As soon as the car stopped, Ms. Mary Belle shoved the d
oor open and fled like a teenage shoplifter. Emory grinned and stepped out of the car. The chilly mountain air gave visible form to his breath before the cutting wind dispersed it into nothingness. Although past noon, the ground on both sides of the road still glistened white from the morning’s frozen dew. Ms. Mary Belle’s property had no fence around it so the boundaries were unapparent. Not that it mattered. Everything in the immediate area now belonged to the TVA.
In her haste, the Crick Witch hadn’t bothered to walk back to the dirt driveway. Instead, she raced over the frozen wild grass toward a weather-battered cabin – or shack, however you looked at it.
Opting to forego the brush in favor of a clearer path, Emory headed back to the driveway. Once at the chain, he saw a sign posted in the center. “Notice of auction. Property and contents.” The sign gave a date of the coming Saturday.
Emory snapped a picture of the sign with his phone and texted it to Jeff with the message, “???”
When he caught up with his companion, he found her banging a rock against a padlock that had been placed on the front door. “Ms. Mary Belle! Ms. Mary Belle, we can’t do that.” As she raised the rock again, he snatched it from her hand.
“Someone locked m’ house!”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t go in there. I brought you here to say goodbye to your property, but we can’t break into the house.”
She jabbed a gnarled finger toward the door. “It’s my house!”
“Not anymore.” The words started her crying, and Emory fell into backtrack mode. “I’m sorry.”
“Kicked me outta m’ own home. Woke me up an’ dragged me out. M’ ’longings in there.”
“I thought your nephew got your belongings out.”
“He didn’t know what’s ’mportant. I got ’mportant stuff here.”
Emory frowned and let his eyes creep to the lock. “Maybe there’s an open window.”
“I cain’t climb through no window.”
“You’re right.” Emory glanced at the door and the rock in his hand. He hurled one mighty blow, and the lock clanked to the grey-wood porch. He opened the door for her. “After you.”
The house’s interior was better kempt than the exterior, but the homemade furnishings were less than aesthetic to the eyes. The place looked as if Ms. Mary Belle had just returned from a walk in the woods, although many of the cabinets and drawers were open, some half-emptied. Emory figured Luke must’ve just packed what he could in the amount of time the sheriff gave him and that he was smart to leave the furniture. He rubbed his hand along the rough, slatted surface of the kitchen table and was rewarded with a splinter to the index finger. His hand snapped up at the prick.
Death Opens a Window Page 14