Voted Out

by J. S. Marlo

  “Someone has to go to Janet Finch’s house.” Liliane grabbed her iPhone from his hand. “Are you coming with me?”

  As she readied to stand, he held her back. “Hold on, Princess Leia. You can’t just barge into someone’s house.” In light of the latest development, he acknowledged the necessity to check on Damien, but he couldn’t ignore the procedures. “Call Damien. Now.”

  She dialed then turned the speaker on. A ring reverberated in the living room. Then a second. A third. A fourth. Then he heard a click.

  “This is Damien Godfrey. Leave a message and I will call you back.”

  “Damien, it’s Liliane. Call me back.” The edge in her voice didn’t bode well for when the recipient returned her call. She poked the screen with her index finger. “He’s not answering. Can we go? Please?”

  With a murderer on the loose, Jasper ruled out leaving her alone in the house. He could always assign another officer to her protection, but the gut feeling that he couldn’t afford to waste precious minutes waiting for the officer to arrive prompted him to choose his third option. “If I take you with me, will you follow my directives?”

  ~ * ~

  As he drove Godfrey’s rental car with the unconscious guy locked in the trunk, Stuart reflected on how their carefully orchestrated plan had hit a roadblock and derailed.

  At the beginning of the campaign, with the three main parties fighting for first place in the polls, it sounded like a good idea to frame Thomas for making an illegal contribution. It should have discredited the despicable returning officer, cast doubts on the integrity of Greg’s candidate, and catapulted his own candidate to the top, ensuring himself a cozy and profitable job in the next government.

  She had devised the plan, not him, but Stuart loved it—and her.

  Sometimes he wondered about the timing of their chance encounter in Winnipeg back in February. She had bumped into him in the lounge of the hotel where he’d attended a technology seminar. A few drinks later, she invited him to her room to discuss her husband in private. They discussed him in detail, but not until morning. In his life, he’d bedded many women, but never such a ferocious vixen. Sex with her was mind-blowing. And addictive.

  The untimely murder of her husband sent her life—and his—spiraling out of control. Whoever killed him didn’t do us any favors.

  Fearing the discovery of their failed check conspiracy might ruin her reputation and turn her sons against her, she sought his help to bury the evidence. On his advice, she canceled the incriminating account, but that redheaded finance officer refused to drop the issue.

  Thomas is dead. It shouldn’t matter anymore who signed the damned check.

  On her insistence, and to please her, he dealt the finance officer an explosive blow that backfired. Not only did the redhead survive, but the election guy also began probing her about phony signatures.

  Tonight, she had phoned while he dodged the detective’s questions in the flickering room. He had ignored her, but afraid she would keep dialing him, Stuart risked a short call from the copy room while the detective grilled his candidate.

  Unable to resist her plea to join her on foot behind the insurance building, he fabricated an excuse and left the office. Her SUV was parked beside a dumpster. After he climbed in the back seat beside Batman, she promised him a night to remember—as soon as he disposed of the intrusive visitor lying on her bathroom floor.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ~Don’t let desperate situations make you do desperate things.~

  Massive houses never impressed Liliane, and with the potholes in the streets, the uneven sidewalks, and the lawns covered with sleeping dandelions, the richest neighborhood in town held no appeal.

  I’m never moving into this part of town. She would rather spend her time painting than cleaning—or working elections.

  Jasper parked his cruiser in the Finchs’ driveway. “Against my better judgment, I’m giving you the lead. You’re ready?”

  “Yes.” During the ride, she had rehearsed her excuse and convinced herself of her sincerity. “Thanks for trusting me, Jasper.”

  An elusive smile grazed his lips as he winked at her. “Let’s go before I regain my senses.”

  The garage door was closed, no lantern illuminated the porch, but lights shone from two front windows.

  Under the moonshine, she marched to the front door and rang the bell. Behind her, Jasper cleared his throat. Steps resonated from inside the door. A lantern sizzled above her head then a burst of light brightened the night.

  The door opened.

  Without makeup, the widow standing in the doorway in a pale blue nightgown, and matching slippers, looked worn out. “Yes?”

  Liliane greeted her with a curt nod. “Sorry to bother you, Janet, but I need your help.”

  “You do?” The woman glanced back and forth between Jasper and her with a blank expression pasted on her face. “It must be serious if you show up with the police.”

  “Him? Nah.” With a gesture of her hand, Liliane feigned to dismiss the man in uniform. “After my car blew up this morning, he appointed himself as my bodyguard, but he’s more like a shadow really. Can we come in so you don’t have too many moths to kill?”

  “Sure. Why not? I was only going to bed.” The sharp intonation in her voice spoke of her aggravation, reminding Liliane to tread with caution.

  She stepped in, followed by Jasper. A click resounded behind her.

  Standing with her hands on her hips between a closet and a low table on which rested a pair of mirrored sunglasses, Janet Finch blocked them from accessing the rest of the house. “What can I help you with at this ungodly time of the evening?”

  “I’m looking for Damien Godley.” In response to his name, the widow arched an eyebrow, emboldening Liliane to continue. “We were supposed to discuss his divorce over a nightcap but I haven’t seen him since he left the office to offer you his condolences. Can you tell me if he came at all?”

  For a moment, the woman stared right through Liliane with narrowing eyes, like her grandmother used to do before deciding if the young girl she was forced to raise deserved another punishment. “Yes, he paid me a visit this evening. We had coffee. He stayed maybe fifteen, twenty minutes. Then he left. Come to think of it, he did mention not feeling too well. Maybe he skipped your nightcap to go to bed.”

  A phone whimpered in the belly of the house. The faint but familiar chime startled Liliane and appeared to ruffle Janet.

  “I’m calling Mr. Godfrey.” Beside her, Jasper waved his phone. “Is there a particular reason it’s ringing in your house? Should I wake up a judge and ask for a search warrant?”

  As she commended his ingenuity, and witnessed Janet’s little twitches, Liliane fought to curtail the grin pulling on her facial muscles.

  “Of course not, Officer.” Her head held high, Janet engaged into a staring contest with Jasper. “Like I said, Mr. Godfrey came here and he wasn’t feeling good. Maybe he dropped his phone while he used the washroom. Feel free to search my entire house. I have nothing to hide.”

  Stepping alongside the mirror, Janet Finch invited them to intrude.

  ~ * ~

  The moment the widow granted him access to her house without a valid search warrant, Jasper knew the man he sought no longer occupied the premises. Still, he intended to explore every room on every level.

  In order to find Damien’s phone, Jasper dialed and redialed his number as he silently chided himself for asking Liliane to call him one last time. Had the widow heard it ring, she might have turned it off or disposed of it. Thankful for the lucky break, he followed its sound into a bathroom on the first floor. Concealed by a wicker basket, the black phone chimed and vibrated on the floor behind the toilet tank. Before retrieving it, he took a picture of it since it placed the missing man in the Finchs’ bathroom.

  The widow had already acknowledged the man’s presence, and though Jasper doubted she would change her story, experience taught him not to underestimate desperat
e suspects.

  The rest of the first main level, the second level, and the finished basement failed to yield any clues. With Liliane in tow, he followed Janet Finch into the garage.

  Jasper looked into the SUV and checked the trunk of the convertible. While both vehicles contained junk, neither concealed a man.

  “Since you’re here, would you mind telling me when you’ll release my late husband’s truck?” With one hip leaning against the convertible, the widow drummed her fingers on the hood. “I’d like to sell it.”

  “It shouldn’t be too much longer, Mrs. Finch. I will let you know when you can pick it up.” The guys at the lab were still processing the impounded red truck, and Jasper had no intention of releasing it until they extracted all its secrets. “Well, I’d like to apologize for the inconvenience we caused you tonight, and thank you for your cooperation. Good night.”

  ~ * ~

  Stuart loved how she formulated the letter. The broken text conveyed the struggles of a desperate man seeking freedom from a nightmarish marriage. Amazed by all the details she gleaned of the guy’s ongoing divorce, Stuart placed it in plain view on the passenger seat along with an empty and unlabeled pill bottle.

  Nobody ventured on this dirt lane at night, but every other morning, a retired school principal who spent his summer in a decrepit cottage seventeen kilometers north drove through on his way to town.

  As the wind died down, insects began buzzing in his ears. Stuart should have begged for a can of bug spray instead of a thermos of coffee. To seek relief from the bites, he entered the car and slipped in the back seat to drink in peace. Still, some insects managed to sneak in through the vent and attack him.

  This is becoming unbearable fast.

  While it would be disastrous if the principal discovered the election guy before he expired, Stuart frowned on the idea of spending any more time in the woods waiting for him to draw his last breath. He removed one glove to check the guy’s vital signs.

  Shallow breathing. Pulse weak and irregular. Good. The guy shouldn’t last too much longer.

  Stuart pinpointed his location on his cell phone then texted it to her along with a short message.

  Come get me. I’m being eaten alive.

  ~ * ~

  Good night. That’s it? Too stunned to argue, Liliane let Jasper drag her into the police cruiser.

  Damien was attached to his phone like a baby to his blanket. He slept with it, and if its protective case was waterproof, he would probably shower with it too. Liliane refused to accept he’d forgotten it in that bathroom.

  With a hand resting on top of her head, Jasper nudged her onto the passenger seat. “Take a deep breath, please, before the objections swelling in your throat compress your airways.”

  She coughed up a few chuckles. “Not funny. It’s obvious she’s lying, Jasper. Why are we leaving?”

  “Because I can’t prove she’s lying.” The man smiled at her then closed the door in her face.

  Seconds later, he reappeared in the seat next to hers and drove away. When he reached the intersection at the end of the street, he made a sharp U-turn, parked alongside the curb, and killed the engine.

  His intentions dawned on her. “Are we stalking her?”

  “Damien was either incapacitated in the house or he left on his own two feet and encountered trouble afterward.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “You’re younger, stronger, and in better shape than Janet Finch. Tell me, how hard and how long do you think it would take you to carry Damien out of the house?”

  The answer stared back at her. “I know an effortless way that would take less than ten minutes. You. I would call you.”

  A grin softened his serious expression. “Exactly. I suspect she didn’t act alone. Did you notice the sunglasses on the low table by the entrance?”

  All of a sudden, it struck her who she saw sporting similar glasses. “Stuart wears the same glasses.”

  “You’re good.” His praise warmed her heart. “Would you please keep an eye on her driveway in case she decides to go for a ride? I need to make a few calls.”

  While she watched, Jasper dispatched three two-man patrols—one to Stuart’s house, one to his party’s office, and the third to the Barkley farmhouse—then requested search warrants for all locations.

  “Jasper? What about the IT firm he worked for as a consultant when he’s not busy with elections?” The IT firm operated from the fifth floor of the glass building next to the police station. The notion he could be arrogant enough to hide under the officers’ nose filled her with dread. “Any chance he could have taken Damien there?”

  Deep lines creased Jasper’s forehead. “I don’t know what kind of secrets the tenants of that building harbor, but they keep a security guard on duty twenty-four-seven. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to send an officer to talk to the guard, would it?”

  He made another call. As he hung up, a light shone in Janet’s driveway.

  “Jasper?”

  The black SUV rolled to the curb, its beams illuminating the mailbox across the street, then it veered off in the night.

  ~ * ~

  A man’s life rested on Jasper’s ability to tail an SUV on a deserted road in the dark at the wheel of a police cruiser without being spotted. On a different road, he would risk turning off his headlights and drive by the moonlight to decrease the distance between their vehicles and lower his chances of losing her, but not with the number of deer and moose crowding the area. Too many collisions were reported on this stretch of road on a monthly basis for him to take a chance.

  “We can’t see her, Jasper.” The dimmed light emanating from the dashboard illuminated her silhouette. With her chin held high and chest pushed forward, Liliane searched the night. “How do you know she’s still in front of us? That she hasn’t veered into a side road?”

  So far, the strong independent woman by his side had kept her wits, still he felt—and shared—her worries toward her friend and colleague. “You haven’t caught any glimpses of skittering light among the trees on either side of us, have you?”

  A shadow moved in the ditch. As he slowed down, he glimpsed a deer leaping from the edge of the woods. In the blink of an eye, the animal faded into darkness.

  Repaved last summer, the narrow road meandered east through the forest in a lazy fashion. No sharp curves and no more bouncy bumps.

  Without warning, a female voice spilled over the radio receiver clipped on his shoulder. “Gambone here. Are you there Detective O’Neil? Over.”

  He pressed the talk button. “O’Neil here. Go ahead.”

  “Nobody at the farmhouse.” A door closed in the background. “Want us to stay in case someone shows up? Over.”

  “Gambone...” A light flickered in the distance, then angled away from the road as it swept through the trees, playing peekaboo within the branches. “My female suspect just veered north onto Archie Lane.” The dirt lane didn’t appear on any maps, but the local residents nicknamed it Archie Lane since it led to former principal Archibald’s cottage. While Jasper investigated a hunting accident in these parts last fall, he’d discovered many more nameless dirt lanes. One of them connected Archibald’s cottage to the Barkley’s acreage through a series of twists and turns and a rustic log bridge. “Gambone, take the back lane to Archibald’s cottage, and if you don’t encounter anything suspicious along the way, block the lane south of the cottage. Over.”

  “Copy that. We’ll have a look at the cottage too. Over.” Gambone who performed above and beyond expectation was partnered with a level headed and methodical veteran. Between the two of them, they would cover every base.

  Satisfied he had cut off Janet Finch’s only escape route, Jasper turned onto Archie Lane.

  ~ * ~

  The trees crowded together on each side stretched their thick branches across the lane, obscuring the moon. Every pothole they hit sank another brick in Liliane’s stomach. In movies, murderers drove to remote or secluded areas to dispose of their victi
m’s bodies, not to release them unharmed. Despite her best efforts to keep her eyes on the road, she couldn’t help imagining the worst scenario.

  As they exited a sharp curve, Jasper slammed the brakes and turned the siren on. “Liliane, get down.”

  The seatbelt yanked Liliane back into her seat, bruising her skin. She winced in pain and surprise. Through the windshield, she saw two individuals staggering while shielding their eyes.

  Jasper stormed out of the cruiser. “Police! Hands over your head.”

  The two individuals raised their hands as they took a few steps back toward the black SUV. Liliane recognized Janet and Stuart, and behind the SUV, she noticed the shadow of another car.

  “Down on your knees.” Crouched behind his open door, Jasper shouted over the sound of the siren. “Now!”

  One of them hurled something toward the cruiser. Liliane ducked as it hit Jasper’s door, shattering its window and splashing liquid over the seat next to her. An engine roared to life, tires screeched, and a gunshot resounded in the night.

  “This is O’Neil. Gambone, are you there? Over.” As Jasper reached inside and turned off the siren, Liliane glimpsed his hand.

  “We blocked the lane and told Archie to stay put. Over.” Unlike Liliane’s heartbeat, the female officer’s voice remained calm and steady.

  “Two suspects in a black SUV are heading your way. I blew one tire. Over.” The detective had fired one bullet and managed to hit his target at night.