“Beautiful,” Jeff said at the same time. “What do you see?”
“A man had sex with a woman and waited for her to fall asleep before getting dressed. He obviously regrets what he’s done, so the woman isn’t his wife. Perhaps she’s a prostitute.”
“Very good! The first name of this painting was What Shall We Do about the Rent?”
“The first name?”
“This was painted by Walter Sikert. Do you recognize the name?”
Emory thought for a second before shaking his head. “No.”
“You really don’t read any crime novels, do you? Walter Sikert changed the name of this painting to The Camden Town Murder in reference to a real-life crime in which a man had sex with a prostitute, slit her throat ear-to-ear while she slept and then left in the morning. The murderer was never caught.”
“Was Walter Sikert a suspect?”
“Not in this one, but the fact that he was so obsessed with murder and prostitutes and the fact that he lived in London in the late 1800s have led some to speculate that he might’ve been the real—”
“Jack the Ripper?”
“See, you just might have some talent for this PI business. Too bad you’re abandoning it. Anyway…” He pulled on the frame, which was mounted to wall – or rather to a hinged panel that separated from the rest of the wall and lowered to reveal a hidden crime board. “Didn’t know I had this, did you?”
Emory just shook his head as he checked out the details of the images tacked to the white board with magnets and the descriptors written on it. A picture of a white ski mask had been colored with a red marker to look more like the one the intruder had worn. The heading of each column named sightings of the man with the dates of each – outside the office (which led to the pursuit that damaged Jeff’s car), outside Emory’s apartment on the day he was fired from the TBI and inside Emory’s apartment the other day.
“I started this after he broke into your apartment. It should help us get to his identity and motives.”
“Impressive. I didn’t know you could be so organized.”
“I’m organized.” Jeff tapped his temple. “Up here. Oh, speaking of which, I’ve come up with an idea for your curse problem.”
“Why are your bringing that up?”
“Because I know you believe in it, and I’m trying to help.” Jeff headed back to his desk. “What do you call it when you hold a trial for someone but the accused isn’t actually there?”
“Trial in absentia.”
“Really? That doesn’t sound right. Maybe what I’m thinking of is more of an effigy thing.” Jeff typed on his computer.
“What are you talking about?”
“Give me your phone.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Emory handed Jeff his cell phone. “What are you doing?”
“Found it!” Jeff turned the monitor around for Emory to see.
Emory leaned forward to read the banner on the webpage. “Transference spell?”
“I got the idea from Warcraft, but this is a little different. We make a personal object – your phone – an effigy of you using a transference spell, like a voodoo doll. Then we destroy, or kill, the object.” Jeff put air quotes around the second verb. “Voila! The curse is broken.”
Emory laughed. “First off, that’s a ridiculous idea.”
“More ridiculous than believing in curses? It’s obviously distracting you, and I’m just trying to help get it out of your head.”
“Second, doesn’t what happens to a voodoo doll also happen to the person it represents?”
“Maybe that was a bad analogy. We’ll make sure it doesn’t.”
“Third, you’re not destroying my phone.”
When Emory retrieved his phone, Jeff winced at the slight twisting of his wrist. “Damn it.” He cupped his wound to ease the pain. “You know this never would’ve happened if you had been at work on time. We could’ve taken him together.”
“I didn’t know my parents were going to show up. Did you?”
“Why would I have known?”
“I just thought since you and my mom are buddies now. Besides, I left a voicemail for Virginia. She didn’t tell you?”
“She wasn’t here either.”
“She wasn’t? Where is she?”
Jeff threw up his hands. “I don’t know. Everyone’s abandoning me.”
“When did you last speak to her?”
“Yesterday afternoon. I asked her to join me for a drink. She stood me up.”
Jeff checked his phone. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that. She left me a voicemail about Becky getting $750,000 from Corey’s life insurance.”
“Whoa! That’s a lot of motive.”
“I know. Although she couldn’t have killed Corey herself.”
“With that money, she could’ve easily hired someone to do it for her.”
Jeff threw up his hands. “Wait a second. I just remembered I asked Virginia to follow up a lead on why the TVA switched properties. She was supposed to track down the report for the original tract from the survey company.”
Emory followed Jeff as he hurried to Virginia’s desk. “The one that did the physical survey of the land?”
“Yeah, but Frank said he never received anything from them. I thought there might be something in that report. I asked her to take care of it yesterday, but it was kind of late. Maybe she waited until this morning.”
“Okay.” Emory saw some pages in the printer tray, and he picked them up to read through them.
Jeff looked at the clock. “It’s past noon.”
“Hey, look at this.” Emory handed him the papers one at a time as he finished reading them. “Last week Frank Belcher deposited $9,000 cash into his checking account.”
“Where would he get that kind of money and in a lump sum?”
“And what did he have to do for it?” Emory headed for the door. “I’ll just go ask him.”
Jeff laughed. “Good luck. You think he’s going to tell you?”
“When confronted with indisputable proof, people usually—”
“You try it your way. I’ll try it mine.”
“What does that mean?”
Jeff headed for the door while shaking his head and raising his index finger. “You’re going back to the TBI. You’ll need plausible deniability.”
Emory shook his head as they both left the office. “I hate when you say that.”
Chapter 29
Frank Belcher returned to his office with a file folder, which he came close to dropping when he saw Emory seated in front of his desk. “Excuse me, what are you doing in my office unannounced?”
Emory turned toward him, and Frank could see he was on a cell phone. “Thank you.” He hung up and pointed to Frank’s desk phone. “I just left you a voicemail announcing myself.” God, I think Jeff is rubbing off on me.
Frank scrunched his brows together and slapped the file to his desk. “I’m very busy today. I don’t have time—”
“How are you liking your new job?” Emory held his trump card as he tried to feel him out.
Frank descended into his chair. “Fine. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that Corey’s death has been pretty beneficial to you.”
The diminutive man scoffed at the notion. “A ten-percent raise and an even greater increase in responsibility hardly makes up for Corey no longer being here. I miss him.”
Emory placed the information Virginia had printed onto his desk. “I’m sure the $9,000 you deposited into your checking account three days before your former boss was murdered helps temper your nostalgia.”
Frank studied the papers and uttered, “I don’t understand.”
“Your current boss told us that the TVA is losing money, so I’m assuming this money isn’t a bonus. That leaves me with one question. What did you do to earn it?”
Frank became very still. “I swear, I didn’t know about this money. It has to be a mistake.”
&n
bsp; “Go ahead, check your account.”
“I don’t have the password.”
“To your computer?”
Frank’s face reddened as he admitted, “To the bank account. My wife handles the finances.”
“Really?” Emory scooted back in his chair. “Okay. Where does your wife work?”
“Edmund’s. It’s a hardware store. One of those twenty-four-hour places. She works the early morning shift.”
“So not a job that would pay her a $9,000 bonus. Do you know where your wife would’ve received such a large sum?”
“Probably from… her brother.” Like a turtle emerging from its shell, Frank found his footing and went with it. “That’s what it is! No mystery. Her brother does really well, and he gives her money sometimes.”
This guy is full of crap, but I can’t prove it right now. “Very well.”
“Listen, I have an offsite meeting I have to get to.” Frank grabbed the file folder from his desk and placed it in his briefcase. “If you have any other questions, please call.”
Jeff waited until he spotted someone – who didn’t matter. Here comes someone now. He jumped out of his rental car and retrieved a cardboard box from the trunk. He hurried along the walkway to catch up with the older man approaching the door of the apartment building. “Could you hold the door for me?”
The man unlocked the secured door and held it open for him. “Are you moving in?”
“Thank you.” Great. Now I have to make small talk. I should’ve picked the lock myself. If only it had been dark and there weren’t so many eyes on this street. “Yes, I just moved here from Nashville.”
“How nice. Are you familiar with our fair city?” The man pushed the elevator call button.
“I’ve been here a few times.”
A chime announced the elevator’s arrival, and the two men stepped inside. “You have to try The Belfry. It’s a wonderful British restaurant. I know the Brits aren’t renowned for their culinary prowess, but trust me on this place. What floor?”
“Huh? Oh, eleventh.”
“Perfect! I’m am too.” He pushed the floor button.
Great!
The man extended a hand but dropped it when he realized Jeff wouldn’t be able to shake. “I’m Sherman, by the way.”
Jeff blurted out the first name to come to mind. “Blake.”
“Nice meeting you, Blake. So which apartment is it? I don’t recall one for rent.”
“I’m subleasing it.”
“Oh. Which one is it?”
“You know, I still haven’t memorized my address. I’ll know it when I see it.” The elevator doors opened into the middle of a hallway, and Jeff nodded to Sherman. “Go ahead. I don’t want to hold you up.”
“Don’t worry about me. You’re the one with the heavy load.” Sherman waved him toward the door.
Damn! Jeff stepped into the hallway and turned around to Sherman.
“Don’t you remember where your apartment is?”
“No, I do. I just wanted to say thanks for welcoming me.”
“No problem at all.”
Why is he not moving? “Where’s your apartment?”
Sherman pointed to his left. “I’m right down there. Apartment 1114.”
Jeff nodded in the opposite direction. “I’m down this way. I’ll see you around.”
The two men went their separate ways. Jeff passed a trash chute in the wall, and he looked to make sure Sherman was no longer in view before dumping the empty box inside. He checked the notes on his phone to find Frank Belcher’s apartment number. “Damn! Apartment 1112?”
Jeff walked back the other way until he found the apartment. Sure enough, it was right beside Sherman’s. From his coat he retrieved his lock-picking kit but waited to use it. I should make sure his wife isn’t home. He knocked, but no one answered. All clear.
The door to apartment 1114 opened. Spoke too soon!
Sherman poked his head out the door. “Sorry, it sounded like my door… Blake?”
Jeff stuffed the kit into his back pocket and pointed to him. “There you are! I thought you said you were in apartment 1112.”
“You were looking for me?”
“Yes. Yes, I was. Would you happen to have a lightbulb? My bathroom light is out, and I don’t have any supplies yet.”
“Of course. What kind do you need? Seventy-five?”
“No, a one-fifty.”
Sherman sucked in air. “Oh, I know I don’t have anything that high.”
“That’s okay then. Thanks anyway.” Jeff began to walk away.
“Sorry,” Sherman closed the door.
As soon as Sherman’s door closed, Jeff got to work on Frank Belcher’s lock, and within a few seconds, he was inside. “Ooh, it’s warm in here.” He was tempted to take off his coat but told himself it wouldn’t be wise. I won’t be here long.
The two-bedroom apartment was tacky but immaculate – every figurine equidistant from the other, every glass shelf dust-free and every gold-plated fixture polished to a garish sheen. From the entryway, he could see a sliding door leading to a balcony on the opposite end of the living room. Jeff forewent that room in favor of the nearest bedroom, which looked to be a combination guest bedroom/office. He wormed around the twin bed with the pink-rose comforter to the pressed-wood desk and searched the drawers but found nothing of interest. He slid open the closet door and found something curious.
Hanging in the closet were several maid uniforms, all the same size but varying in design. “This can’t be his wife’s. She’s as tall as I am and girthier. She couldn’t fit in these small outfits. They have a maid? Is she a live-in?” Jeff closed the closet door and wiped away the sweat accumulating on his forehead as he headed to the dresser. Sure enough, he found women’s underwear and lingerie in the top drawer. “Damn it! I better hurry. Who knows when she’ll be back.”
He headed into the master bedroom, where another sliding door led to the balcony. He had just peered into the closet when he heard keys jingling at the apartment door.
“Shit!” Jeff shouted under his breath. He darted for the sliding door, but as soon as he stepped onto the balcony, he came face-to-face with something that made him almost jump back inside. Two inches from his forehead hovered a shoebox-sized drone.
Chapter 30
When he saw the drone flying in front of his face, Jeff yelled, “What the hell?!” He covered his mouth, hoping whoever had just walked in the front door of the apartment didn’t hear his voice from the balcony.
The lens of the attached camera peered at him as the drone ascended. Jeff glanced up at the blinking red light on its belly before the drone scudded away.
The sound of jingling keys jerked him back to his current danger. He closed the sliding door behind him and looked for a place to hide. The two wicker chairs on either side of a glass-topped, gold-plated table offered no cover, so he suctioned his back to the wall between the living room and bedroom sliders.
After a moment, he scooched to his right so he could peek into the living room. Frank’s wife!
Lettie Belcher trod into the apartment wearing a pant suit and a look of exhaustion. She threw her purse on the entryway table and kicked off her heels as she walked, leaving them where they fell. She fanned her face and adjusted the wall thermostat before heading toward the sliding door.
Jeff jerked his head back and shuffled to the other door. He pulled the bedroom slider open as Lettie did the same to the living room slider. He jumped into the bedroom and waited for her to go on the balcony. Now’s my chance! I’ll run to the front door.
Lettie, however, didn’t step onto the balcony. Instead she slid closed the screen door, leaving the glass door open. “Get some fresh air in here.”
Jeff heard her walking through the living room now. He hurried back onto the balcony, closing the bedroom slider behind him. He returned to his position against the wall. Maybe she’ll take a shower or a nap.
She didn’t do either. Instead she sat on
the couch and was about to turn on the TV when the apartment door opened again.
Jeff gritted his teeth. Seriously? Now who’s here?
He heard Lettie’s voice. “What are you doing home?”
“I took off for lunch. I need to talk to you.”
That’s Frank. Great. I’m going to be stuck out here all night!
“You just got a promotion. You should eat lunch at your desk.”
“It’s important. Did you deposit $9,000 into our account?”
Jeff’s ears perked up. The money! He turned to face the wall and craned his neck to peek through the screen door.
Lettie jumped up from the couch and met her husband in the entryway. “What are you doing snooping around the account for?”
“I didn’t. One of those PIs asked me about it.”
Lettie took a menacing step forward as she glared down at her husband. “What do you mean? How did he find out?”
“I think he has connections with the TBI. I don’t know. Does it have anything to do with the windfarm? Is that why you wanted me to move it?”
Lettie hauled off and slapped Frank, slamming him to the floor!
Holy shit! Jeff had to cover his mouth to keep from screaming the words.
“What did I tell you about questioning me?!”
Cowering on the floor, Frank raised a defensive hand. “Lettie, I’m sorry. But he wanted to know where it came from.”
Lettie kicked her husband in the stomach. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him you got it from your brother. I said he makes a lot of money, and he gives you some sometimes.”
“Did he believe it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Why is he looking into our affairs? Did you say something to them to make them suspicious?”
“I wouldn’t know anything to say.” Frank lowered his hand and pushed himself into a seated position on the floor. “Suspicious of what?”
“Nothing.” Lettie walked back into the living room.
Frank stood up but didn’t move from his spot. “Lettie, just so I know how to answer if I’m asked again – or how not to answer – should you just tell me what’s going on?”
Death Opens a Window Page 19