“Yes. Good idea.”
He nodded, looking almost relieved. “There are only three people who have regular and relatively easy access to this house, to accomplish what’s going on. Unfortunately, all three of them have been acting strange lately, so pinpointing a chief suspect has been difficult.”
“Do you know why they’re behaving that way? Do they know each other?” When he frowned, she lifted one shoulder. “The stalker might think you’re on to him and be playacting in order not to stick out.”
“Or as I said before, maybe he’s been coached by someone else.”
Maybe, but could a person keep up such a pretense? At least she already knew the first of the three. “One is Ger Sacks. You were warning me the other day, though at the time I thought you were protecting yourself.”
“Then and now.”
Not quite sure what he meant by that, Willa said more quietly, “Who are the other two?”
“Roger Elias and Felix Fraser.”
She couldn’t have been more doubtful than if he’d named her kindergarten teacher. “That’s almost too bizarre to contemplate. Not the same Roger Elias who’s the store manager at Lavender’s?”
“He’s also an aspiring writer. We play chess twice a week, and in return for help with my game, I critique his writing. He was the one person who was here late enough to deliver what’s in your pocket. Most interesting is his face is scraped raw. From a fall, he says, and he didn’t offer much more of an explanation, but he remained edgy throughout the evening. The interesting thing is that it could have been self-inflicted to hide fingernail marks.”
Willa wondered how she could find out if anything had been found under Nancy Porter’s nails. But another thought seemed to cancel out the need.
“Wait a minute, that was last night. Judith said she found her friend this morning.”
“Which means nothing. That so-called friend could have been lying there for hours. A whole day. It just suited Judith’s purpose to insinuate otherwise.”
The mere idea that the poor Nancy Porter might have been conscious for a little while, helpless and terrified, had Willa swallowing in revulsion for the heinous crime. “Why would your ex-wife lie about the time?”
“You heard her. Judith is determined to make people believe the attacker was me—or someone I’d hired with the intent of getting rid of her.”
And that couldn’t be the case because then the stalker would have realized he had the wrong woman. “I understand you didn’t have a friendly divorce, but does she think you hate her so much that you would kill her?”
“She doesn’t have to think. I told her myself.”
The air conditioner shut off, leaving the house unnaturally silent for several seconds. It magnified the fact that Willa didn’t know what to say.
“Ah…I’ve shocked you yet again,” he murmured, watching her closely.
“Somewhat. I was lucky to have married my first love. My parents were childhood sweethearts. My sister married the boy she met on her first day at college. I don’t understand how relationships that have been that close can deteriorate to what you’re suggesting.”
“Well, they say that there’s a fine line between love and hate.” His bitter smile returned. “But in my case, it’s closer to the truth to say that the only thing my wife ever loved about me was my money. When I discovered that settling for a fraction of it in a divorce court wouldn’t satisfy her, I felt justified in voicing my opinion of her right to live to a ripe old age.”
“I see. And when was this?”
“When I woke from surgery after she sabotaged my plane.”
Reviewers hadn’t dubbed him the Crown Prince of Darkness for nothing, but even this was beyond dark. This was sick. “You think Judith…?”
“I know it. It was my plane. I’d checked it over thoroughly in preflight for a trip to Denver where I was scheduled to give a seminar. In the last minute Judith ran out of the office to tell me I had a phone call. She had a cup in her hand, but I didn’t think anything of it. She’s addicted to diet soft drinks, and it never struck me that she might just have ice water in it. That part of the airport was quiet that day. It was easy for her to circle to the fuel nozzle on the wing, which was low on that plane, unscrew it, pour in the water.”
He told his story dispassionately, but Willa thought that made it even spookier. “The plane could still fly?”
“High enough to make coming down deadly. I fought it the whole way, looking for a field to land in. At one point I thought I’d made it, too. Then I hit a hole and the plane flipped twice. To this day, I don’t know whether I was thrown free or crawled.”
“Didn’t the FAA find anything in their investigation?” Willa asked, thinking about how this must have compounded his fear.
“The plane exploded. Besides, Judith put on the performance of her life to make everyone believe her poor husband had gone over the edge and had become a raving lunatic.” He gestured as if to say it was all a moot point. “I did the only thing I could—I filed for a divorce. You know what my devoted wife did? She hired the great white shark of lawyers. Today she’s still sucking her fifty percent out of me. She will until the books I wrote during our marriage cease to yield any return.”
Was that reason enough to commit murder?
“Through the centuries people have killed for the change in someone’s pocket, the shirt on someone’s back,” Zach said, watching her, “and when I divorced her, although Judith gained a great deal, she lost more. You don’t think the woman feels scorned?”
He laid it out so neatly, there was no missing what he meant. “You think Judith knows the stalker!”
CHAPTER TEN
“She more than knows him,” Zach replied without inflection. “I think she’s controlling him.”
That was incomprehensible to Willa. “When? How? Good grief, Zach, he tried to kill her and put her friend in the hospital instead!”
“What if he got the right woman? What if Nancy was the target all the time? A sacrifice?” Before Willa could protest, he added, “I told you there’s been a focus shift in the messages. Now it’s as if two people created them.”
Although she knew she sounded petulant, Willa muttered, “Well, I’m not likely to agree or disagree because you won’t let me see them.”
“And no amount of wheedling will change my mind.”
Seeing that was true, she decided to determine a few things another way. “Do you realize what you’re suggesting? You’re saying Judith was capable of stopping a man who wanted to punish her in your behalf, maybe even kill her, and turned him into a robot who does whatever she wants! Then you suggest Roger Elias as one of the suspects? The man isn’t exactly threatening,” Willa said.
Zach remained indifferent. “What he lacks in size, he makes up for in passion. His emotions run quite deep.”
Not as far as Willa was concerned. She’d seen Roger Elias at mall-management meetings. Not once had he voiced any dissent to their lessee on an issue, let alone challenged any decision. But when she said as much to Zach, he remained convinced.
“You’ve seen the chameleon in dress uniform. There’s another side to clever Roger. The manipulator, for instance. He plays chess with a true warrior’s spirit. You can’t play well without it. Add that to a certain sexual frustration and you have a walking, breathing time bomb on your hands.”
At least Ger Sacks had the muscle. He didn’t, however, strike Willa as the kind of person who could have thought up anything so diabolical. “What was the other name you mentioned?”
“You don’t know him. Felix Fraser, my agent.”
“You suspect the man you’re supposed to trust the most? And what’s his motive supposed to be?”
“The other fifty percent of my estate. Everything that isn’t signed over to Judith, or held in trust for my old school. Why not?” he added, as though she’d made some protest. “I have no family, no children. What’s more, I’ve never really cared much about money or possessions.
And I did put him through hell by marrying Judith. He’d warned me about her, but I didn’t listen.”
She didn’t want to think about what Judith had done or said to muddle his mind so. Instead, she thought about how empty Zach’s life sounded, how lonely. “But is Felix Fraser capable of turning on you? Is he capable of murder?”
“I happen to believe that under the right circumstances, everyone is capable of doing both.”
Living alone out here, she wasn’t surprised. “What’s he like?”
“Someone who’s stepped out of a time machine. The Medicis would have loved him. He’s in his early fifties, tall, dark, but going gray…an elegant man who’s extremely cerebral and disciplined.”
“That doesn’t sound like someone who should be suspected of going off the deep end or trying to frame you,” Willa warned gently. She couldn’t help being doubtful.
“The other day, the night before you got your first message, he told me it would have been better if I’d died in that crash.”
The room went completely dark and spun several times before Willa managed to take enough deep breaths to stop it. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. Why did he do it?”
“Maybe because he was thinking about old business. You see he’d been the one on the phone the day I crashed.”
“You’re really scaring me now.”
Jarred out of her brooding, Willa swung around to find Starla with arms crossed and foot tapping, making an earnest attempt at giving her the evil eye. However, at best her sunny-natured assistant managed to look confused and concerned.
“Oh, no. Did I miss something?” It was Thursday, her third day back after moving, and she was doing her best to concentrate and not let on that she had trouble keeping focused for even two minutes at a time. She’d thought revamping their window display would do the trick, but apparently Starla had noticed something was off anyway.
“You could say that.” The younger woman fingered the Etruscan-style hoop in her left ear. “You only ignored our mailman, who you know dotes on you, and you directed your fussiest customer to check out the sale rack.”
Willa was glad for the sturdy wall behind her. It proved a reliable support as she dropped back her head and silently moaned her regret and embarrassment. Timothy, their mail carrier, was a sweetheart, only months away from retiring, and painfully shy. As for Mrs. Potter…well, the less she thought about how she was going to have to appease the wife of the chamber of commerce’s current president, the better.
“Point me in the direction of the stockroom and I’ll go lock myself in.”
Instead, Starla eased the basket of silk violets from Willa’s grasp, placed them before the lavender-and-plum negligee Willa had draped across a vanity chair and drew her back into the interior of the store. At least it was a quiet moment before the lunch hour. Willa noted that there were only two customers in the store, and they were involved in some enthusiastic gift-purchase conference.
“You’re not getting off so easy.” Starla drew her toward the checkout counter. “I’ve been biting my tongue ever since Tuesday when you came back here looking like a deer in someone’s crosshairs. Now, enough’s enough. I saw the article in the paper about Nancy Porter. I read Judith Denton’s statement. Nowhere was there any mention of what happened to you. No, don’t say it. You didn’t tell anyone about the note, did you?”
Willa didn’t bother denying it. The sooner her assistant satisfied her curiosity, the sooner they could drop the subject. “No.”
“Why not?” Starla cried. “You said yourself that he’d probably sent it. Add that to what Mrs. Denton says about him—”
“That doesn’t mean it’s the truth. The police haven’t said anything, have they?”
“But the implications!”
“Forget it, Starla!”
Her assistant’s expression turned wounded. “I only thought that maybe the police could get some fingerprints off it or something,” she said quietly.
Indeed they could. Hers and Zach’s. “Maybe so, but that’s not going to happen because I don’t have it anymore.” Seeing no way to avoid an explanation, she made her friend vow to keep this between them, and then shared an abbreviated version of what had happened—minus Zach’s disclosure of his list of suspects, of course. And all the while she tried to underplay the sexual tension between her and Zach as much as possible. It didn’t fool her friend for one second.
“Wow,” Starla said, whispering because the two customers had just passed on their way to the next section of the store. “Imagine if you told me the good stuff. It would be better than the movies. I know,” she added with a grimace, “it’s an awful thing to say, considering that poor woman’s still in a coma. But the rest of it—you have to admit it makes a sizzling story.”
Willa’s face grew warm, as she remembered. Sizzling didn’t cover it, or the restless nights she’d been having since as she relived the moments when Zach had reduced her to a creature of sensation.
“What did you do with the, er, new evidence?”
“Put them in a freezer bag and out of sight.” And prayed that the panties had been stolen from a drawer and that she wasn’t hampering the investigation.
“How long do you think it’ll be before the police get a warrant and search Zach Denton’s house? No telling what else they’ll find there. Maybe he even has some poor soul locked in his cellar or something.”
Starla’s focus was changing almost as often as Willa’s conclusions regarding the suspects. “Will you stop! If I can see that he’s not a likely suspect, why can’t you?”
“Because I wasn’t lucky enough to end up in his arms, so I’m thinking with a clear head,” she drawled, only to sober again. “Aren’t you worried that Judith may be right about him?”
Willa arched her left eyebrow. “We’re talking about the Judith Denton who bounces checks here at least once a quarter and returns nearly half of what she buys.”
“Good point. Hey, you know what would be weird? What if she’s making all those accusations because she’s still in love with him and she’s upset that he won’t take her back? If she finds out what’s happening between you two, I’d be worried about my own neck.”
“Will you stop! You’re going from bad to worse.”
Willa snatched the mail up off the counter and sorted through it. But she couldn’t deny being troubled that, for all the upheaval, the police were keeping their distance. Even when Detective Pruitt had returned Monday evening, stopping first at Zach’s house, and then at hers, the subject never came up again. He’d been polite, almost conversational as he’d asked her questions. And although he’d taken out a pad and pen, he hadn’t written down a thing. It had only been when he’d begun to leave that he’d let her know the visit was meant to be a subtle warning.
“Are you aware that Mr. Denton owes his wife a great deal of money, Mrs. Whitney?” he’d asked, clicking his ballpoint pen over and over until it sounded like a ticking clock.
She’d had no idea what to say. “That isn’t any of my business, Detective.”
“During their divorce, Ms. Denton was able to convince the judge that she’d provided invaluable aid and support during her husband’s recuperation and therapy, that it was only her enthusiasm and encouragement that made Mr. Denton complete the two un-finished projects he owed his publisher. As a result, the court awarded her—aside from the rest of the settlement—a sizable percentage of all income he may enjoy up to and including those two projects. Not surprisingly, Mr. Denton protested. Forcefully. He’s also made it extremely difficult for her to collect, and I understand those two books have enjoyed an unparalleled success. He was even overheard threatening that he would see her in hell before he let her suck another drop of his blood.”
“What does all that have to do with me, Detective Pruitt?” Willa had asked, recalling the comment Zach had made to Judith about vampires.
“You seem like a nice lady. I’d hate to see you get taken in by a man who might seem…vulnerable, but wh
o may be quite unbalanced.” His smile had been sympathetic, and about as authentic as the silk plants she had scattered around the shop….
Starla’s voice brought Willa back to the present. “Let me have that.”
Realizing her assistant was tugging the mail out of her hands, Willa struggled to catch up on what she might have missed. “What now?”
“Oh, nothing except that you just tossed out an invoice from your biggest supplier.”
Fortunately, Willa didn’t have to make any response since their shoppers were ready to check out. Tongue in cheek, Starla suggested she ring up the purchases, while Willa gift-wrapped them.
Once the two women left, Starla spun around. “You know what you need? Something to release all this built-up tension.”
“One crack about my love life and I’m leaving,” Willa warned, her eyes narrowed.
“Actually, I was thinking about mine…and a way you can help yourself while giving me moral support. Let’s join up next door.”
They’d talked about it before, but Willa had always backed out, her schedule full, her concern about losing weight nil. Having just moved, she had even less free time in her schedule than before. “I don’t know.” She sighed, hating to have to disappoint Starla. She knew Starla desperately wanted to take care of those few extra pounds once and for all, but this was exactly what Zach had warned her about.
“Please? You’re not going to believe who actually walked me into the mall yesterday and suggested I try a trial membership.”
“Ger Sacks,” Willa murmured, knowing that canceled any warnings she might have honored about being sensible.
“He was so sweet and rather shy behind that golden-boy smile. I wish someone like that would ask me out.”
But Zach believed he might be capable of terrifying a woman. Maybe even murdering her. “Really?”
“Yeah, but you know the kind of guy I attract? What’s-his-name over at Lavender’s.”
Was this a nightmare or what? “You mean Roger Elias?”
“No, the guy in the shoe department. What a creep.” Starla tapped a long fingernail tinted in an exotic bronze on the glass countertop. “I’m telling you a girl can’t be too careful. I went there last night looking for a pair of pumps to go with that new leopard print dress I bought. He accidentally brushed his hand against my you-know-what…and then had the nerve to invite me for a drink. The guy has a potbelly worse than my father’s, and I could use the top of his head as a makeup mirror!”
Watching for Willa Page 9