Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 03 - The Great Chocolate Scam

by Sally Berneathy

  Fred arched an eyebrow and ignored me some more while he listened.

  A black Cadillac turned into the cul-de-sac, approached the driveway, made a movement to turn in, then straightened as if to drive on past. Marissa. Probably figured the police were there for her. Maybe they were.

  She was not getting away so easily. I headed for my sporty little Celica with five on the floor. I could chase her down easily. Not only was my car much sleeker and faster than that tank she was driving, but I doubted that she had my high-speed driving skills. I’d put my speeding tickets up against hers any day.

  But just as I reached my car, she stopped, backed up and pulled into the driveway behind me. That was a probably a good thing. We had no time to waste. But the thought of a high speed chase had been exciting.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, sliding out and trying to look nonchalant.

  “Rickie’s missing,” I said.

  The door of the house flew open and Grace charged out, shrieking. “What have you done with my son?”

  “What?” Marissa looked genuinely confused but I suspected she could mimic any expression she chose.

  “You didn’t want him to inherit everything, so you kidnapped him!” Grace stopped halfway across the yard and turned to one of the officers who’d followed her outside. “Arrest that woman! She took my Rickie!”

  It was possible.

  I looked at Fred. He shrugged.

  “Where are Clint and Brad?” I asked.

  “They’re visiting friends,” she said evasively.

  “Visiting friends? They just got to town. They don’t have any friends here. They probably don’t have any friends in Crappie Creek or wherever you’ve been living.” My mind filled with images of Rickie bound and gagged somewhere in a dingy motel room while Clint and Brad sat on the stained bed, smoking and playing cards. I grabbed her arm. “Where are they?”

  A uniformed officer stepped between Marissa and me. “Can we talk to you inside, ma’am?” he asked Marissa.

  She smiled, but it was a twitchy smile. Cops obviously made her nervous. “Of course.”

  Another patrol car pulled up and stopped. I paid no attention. Just a few more cops. I watched Marissa, studying her expression, trying to decide if the blatant guilt on her face was because she was guilty of all sorts of scams or because she was guilty of something much darker.

  Suddenly she stopped, looking toward the street. Her eyes widened, she gasped and her hand flew to her mouth.

  Grace shrieked.

  I turned to see Trent and Lawson standing beside the latest arrival in the line of cop cars. Lawson was holding the back door open while Rick climbed out.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Fred had been right. The cops had tracked Rick down to his lair. But he wasn’t wearing handcuffs. Darn. I’d so hoped he’d be arrested for impersonating a dead man or running from the scene of the crime or something.

  “You’re not dead?” Marissa blinked a couple of times as if unable to believe her own eyes. “You’re alive?” A wide smile slowly spread across her face. “My son’s alive!” Probably just me, but I thought the smile was forced and she looked just a little disappointed.

  Grace recovered from her first moment of shock, ran down the sidewalk and threw herself into his arms. Well, she would have if he’d opened his arms to her. He did sort of put them around her as he tried to balance against the force of her momentum. She looked up at him, her pointy little face a compelling mix of sadness, fear and the new element of hope. “Somebody took our son!”

  Rick flinched. “I heard about Rickie.” At least he didn’t make a scene about not being the boy’s father. One point in his very short positive column.

  Marissa strode over to him and laid her hand on his cheek. “My son’s alive. My prayers have been answered.”

  That was an image I couldn’t quite get in focus, Marissa in a church, praying for her dead son’s return. Or praying for anything, for that matter. If she wanted something from God, she’d figure out some kind of a scam to run on Him.

  “Let’s go inside,” Trent said, taking Rick’s arm and leading him down the sidewalk as Grace held onto his other arm. “Everybody inside,” he ordered, though he caught my gaze, frowned and made a very slight movement with his head. Not enough, I decided, to qualify as a shake, a warning not to do something like go inside. No, he was probably just trying to shake off a gnat. I decided to go with that interpretation of the movement.

  “Come on,” I urged Fred.

  “You go ahead. I’m going to drive a few blocks away where I can be sure my phone won’t be monitored, then sit in my car and make some phone calls, see if I can track down a friend who may know something about Kollar.”

  “Another friend? That makes a total of three, four if you count Jim and Penny as separate friends. Really, Fred, you’re pushing the boundaries of my credulity.”

  “Computers are my friends too.”

  I could see Fred sitting next to his computer, sipping a glass of wine and conversing with his artificial intelligence buddy. “Okay, I won’t ask who your friend is. You think Bryan nabbed Rickie?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s certainly possible. You find out what the police have, and I’ll check on Kollar.”

  “Can I borrow that little eavesdropping device? They may not let me inside. I may have to skulk around the exterior of the house and listen.”

  Fred reached into his pocket, fumbled, then produced the faux Bluetooth and an individually packaged antibacterial wipe.

  I started to lift the device to my ear, but he caught my hand and looked down at the wipe. I rolled my eyes, tore open the package, scrubbed the device and put it in my ear.

  “The top button turns it on. Find a quiet place then turn your head in the direction of the sounds you want amplified.”

  “Where do you get all these cool devices?”

  “You can find anything on the Internet.”

  Maybe I should become better friends with my computer.

  I shook my hair so it completely hid my ear and all attachments.

  Fred gave an approving nod then turned and strode toward his car.

  I followed the crowd inside.

  Lawson stopped me at the door. “I’m not sure you should go in there.”

  I gave him my best withering glare. He didn’t wither.

  “I’m family,” I said. “The missing boy is my nephew.”

  I glanced at Rick who stood a few feet away. He shook his head firmly and silently mouthed, “He is not.”

  I knew that, but my lie was small in comparison to the rest of the professional liars gathered around.

  Lawson shrugged. “If Trent doesn’t send you home, I guess it’s okay.”

  Trent was off in a corner talking with one of the uniformed officers. If he said anything to me, I’d tell him Lawson said it was okay for me to be there.

  “Can I have your attention, please,” Trent said, the commanding tone in his voice causing all conversation to stop. “We have put out an Amber Alert for Rickie Ganyon, and we’re doing everything we can to find him. Right now, because you all have a connection to the boy—”

  “My sons and I don’t,” Marissa said.

  Trent gave her the evil eye. She sneered at him, but she shut up. “Because all of you have a connection to Rickie, I’d like to talk to each of you, so I’m going to ask that you, Mrs. Malone, have a seat here in the living room and be patient. Mr. Kramer and Miss Ganyon, could you two please come with me to the kitchen?”

  Rick and Grace, followed by Lawson and Trent, disappeared into my former kitchen. I strolled casually around to the dining room and sat down at the big oak table which had a polished, pristine surface when I’d last seen it. Now it had several scratch marks and a crayon drawing of a creature that could be a zombie or a vampire or Bryan Kollar having ’roid rage.

  I pressed the top button of Fred’s device and turned that side of my head toward the common wall that the dining room shared
with the kitchen.

  “In this sort of situation, we always talk to the parents first.” Lawson’s voice came through as clearly as if he was sitting next to me.

  “Surely you don’t think I did anything to hurt my son!” Grace exclaimed.

  “I’m not a parent,” Rick said.

  “Can I join you?” Marissa sank down in a chair next to me.

  Damn. I could see the resemblance to Rick. One minute she hated me, next minute she was my best friend. Couldn’t get rid of her. She must need something.

  I pulled my cell phone from my purse, tucked my hair behind my ear and pointed to the listening device which I hoped she’d mistake for a Bluetooth.

  “I’m on the phone,” I said.

  She glanced down then up again. “No, you’re not. The light’s not blinking.”

  “Light’s broken.” I could hear a conversation going on in the next room, but the conversation in this room kept me from making any sense of it.

  “Why did you wait so long to call the police?” Lawson’s voice.

  “Because…”

  “You knew Rick wasn’t dead, didn’t you?” Marissa accused.

  “Trust me, I was as surprised as anybody.” I saw no need to tell her when that surprise happened.

  “It was all a scam, wasn’t it? He faked his own death.”

  “Good grief, Marissa! You think Rick blew up his car and killed his girlfriend? You think your son committed murder?”

  She drummed her long red fingernails on the table top and thought for a minute. “I guess not. He’s always had a soft heart.”

  Her definition of a soft heart was a lot different from mine.

  “The police are picking up Clint and Brad,” she said. “Why are they doing that? Why do they want to talk to my boys?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I can understand why they’re questioning Rick. He’s pretty tired of Grace claiming that monster child is his son so he’d have reason to get rid of him, but why Clint and Brad? They’ve never had anything to do with Grace or Rickie.”

  She could understand why they were questioning Rick? That got my attention. I hadn’t given a lot of thought as to why the cops brought Rick to the house. Was he a suspect? Was it possible he’d done something with the kid just to get him out of his life and shut Grace up?

  I put my hand over my left ear and strained to hear what was going on in the kitchen.

  “…want you to appear in a line-up to see if the boy recognizes you as the man who came here in a van early this morning.”

  “I told Rick to stay away from that woman. She had her claws out for him from the beginning.” She smiled. “Women are attracted to Rick, but you know that, don’t you?”

  I nodded. Anything to shut her up.

  “…can get a court order, but time is critical.”

  “Of course he’ll do it!” Grace was speaking for Rick? I was never allowed to do that.

  “A line-up?” Rick repeated. “Who else besides me?”

  “Your two brothers, you, Bryan Kollar, and Thomas Akin.”

  “You want to put me in a line-up with the man who tried to kill me?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lawson concluded the interview with a request that Rick send Marissa in and that he not leave the building.

  “You’re up next,” I said to the woman who just wouldn’t quit jibber-jabbering about Rick and Grace and what the cops could possibly want with her sons.

  About that time Rick leaned into the room. “Marissa, the police want to talk to you in the kitchen.”

  Marissa rose. “And I want to talk to them.”

  And I wanted to hear that conversation.

  Of course Rick sat down at the table as soon as his mother left. “Lindsay, they want to put me in a line-up.”

  “You’ll live. They’re just going to look at you, not execute you. Go away.”

  He leaned across the table toward me. “A line-up with Thomas Akin! He’s probably the one who blew up my car and tried to kill me! They can’t put me in the same room with him!”

  True to his nature, Rick was concerned with what might happen to him, not the fact that a woman had actually died in the explosion or that a kid was missing. “You’ll be in a police station, surrounded by cops. Be quiet or I’ll kill you.”

  “The boys were visiting friends last night,” I heard Marissa say.

  Grace walked into the room and sat down next to Rick.

  I glared at both of them. “I don’t remember sending out an invitation saying the party’s in here.”

  “I can’t stand to think something bad has happened to our son,” Grace said, trying to take Rick’s arm. He pulled away from her.

  “Your boy’s going to be fine,” Rick assured her. “He’s just wandered off. Boys do that.” He didn’t look like he believed his own words. He didn’t look like he cared either.

  “A line-up?” I didn’t need the device to hear Marissa’s loud exclamation. It came quite clearly through the wall. “You are not putting my boys in a line-up like they were common criminals!”

  Grace and Rick both grinned.

  “I’m not saying another word without my attorney! This conversation is over!”

  Marissa stormed out of the kitchen into the living room. “Get out!” she shouted, apparently addressing the two uniformed officers who remained in the house and probably Rick, Grace and me. “All of you, get out!”

  Rick stood and walked over to her. “Marissa, this is my house. You can’t order people to leave.”

  She glared at him. “Then you do it!”

  Trent and Lawson emerged from the kitchen. “Rick,” Lawson said, “we’d like to ask you to come down to the station with us now. Your brothers and Thomas Akin have been located and are on their way. We’re still trying to find Bryan Kollar, but we need to move with urgency on this line-up so we’ll proceed without him if we have to. Miss Ganyon, please remain here in case your son returns.”

  Rick scowled and Grace nodded.

  Everyone left except Grace, Marissa and me.

  Marissa joined us at the table.

  “Detective Lawson didn’t say you had to stay,” I pointed out.

  “He didn’t say you had to either,” she snapped.

  “My name’s on the title to this house.” I really didn’t want to be there, but I needed to wait for Fred. Besides, I wasn’t about to let Marissa run me off.

  “So is my son’s name.”

  I shrugged. “I guess that makes us one big, happy family, and we can all hang out here in perfect harmony as soon as I buy everybody a Coke.”

  Marissa scowled. “You’ve really got a sarcastic mouth on you.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  Grace burst into tears. “How can you two argue when my son may be lying dead in some dark alley?”

  “Whether or not we argue isn’t going to make your son any less dead,” Marissa said.

  That comment didn’t improve Grace’s sobbing.

  I took a packet of tissues from my purse and handed them to her. “It’s going to be okay. The police are on it. They know what they’re doing. They’ve done this before.” I didn’t like the woman, but I did feel sorry for her.

  “If they knew what they were doing,” Marissa said, “they wouldn’t be dragging my sons in for a line-up to see if that kid next door can identify one of them! I told them they can’t do that without my permission!”

  “Actually, I’m pretty sure they can. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that your sons are both over the age of eighteen, so the cops don’t need your permission to talk to them.”

  “I’m still their mother!”

  “And a fine job you’ve done of that. What are you worried the police are going to find out? Where were your sons last night? I hope this time they didn’t choose another undercover cop to sell themselves to. After meeting you, I understand why Rick’s so messed up.”

  She arched a perfect eyebrow. “If you’d been any ki
nd of a wife, you’d have been able to keep him.”

  “Like you kept their father?”

  “Stop it, both of you!” Grace shouted. Tears streamed down her face.

  “Shut up, you sniveling little bitch,” Marissa snarled.

  I didn’t like Grace, but I didn’t like Marissa more. “I think you need to leave,” I said.

  “And I think I need to stay right here.”

  I stood and picked up one of the heavy brass candlesticks that sat in the middle of the table. “Get out,” I said. “Now.”

  “Are you threatening me?” She rose too.

  I laughed. “How clever you are to figure that out!”

  We did a little posturing and puffing out our chests, my mother-in-law and I. She had me on the puffing out chests thing, but I beat her on the posturing since I’m taller. Apparently meaner too since she gave first.

  “My son will hear about this!” She turned and stormed out of the room.

  “Tell him! What’s he going to do? Divorce me?” I shouted at her departing back.

  Grace gave a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  I flopped back down into my chair. “Don’t thank me. I’ve been wanting to run that woman off since the first time I met her.”

  “She’s the reason me and Rick broke up. We were getting along just fine until I got pregnant, and then she convinced him the baby wasn’t his. It is his baby. I wasn’t cheating on him. I loved him.”

  I shifted in my chair. A part of me wanted to tell her that Marissa and Rick knew the baby wasn’t his because he’d had a vasectomy, but Rick should be the one to tell her that, not me. Besides, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure he really had. He’d sounded sincere when he told me, but it wouldn’t be the first time Rick had lied, always with the utmost sincerity.

  “It’s going to be all right.” I uttered the inane phrase with as much confidence as I could muster. I had no idea if it was going to be all right, if the cops would ever find Rickie and if he’d be alive or dead when they did.

  *~*~*