Deceptive Practices

by Simon Wood

  He carried the food out to the patio, where he saw the crew Luis had hired to take care of the landscaping. They worked at the far end of the property, away from the house—and Beth. She spooked them. She spooked everyone who’d ever worked for them. They’d stopped trying to employ a permanent household staff. Not many people could handle dealing with a person disfigured by fire.

  Beth sat alone on the patio with the newspaper, looking small and frail. She ignored the paper in favor of the landscapers. Her fire-ravaged side faced Roy, although it was hard to tell. She always wore long sleeves, and her long, dark hair covered her face. Her hand and face gave a clue to the devastation she’d suffered. Like wax, her flesh looked as if it had melted and reset. Her disfigurement meant little to him. Her beauty was truly more than skin deep. He loved the woman he’d met all those years ago. She saw the real him. Where everyone saw nothing more than a pair of fists, she saw his potential, his intelligence. No one would have thought he could build an empire like Infidelity Limited, except her. Her physical and mental scars would never change that.

  He set the tray down on the table and kissed her on the good side of her face. Though her looks didn’t bother him, they bothered her. “It’s good to see you.”

  “And you,” she said without taking her gaze off the landscapers.

  He noticed the ash on the concrete at her feet. It looked like the remains of one of her lace handkerchiefs. She’d been burning again. He’d never understand why she liked to play with fire after what it had done to her. He let it go. It wasn’t worth getting into an argument about, especially with the landscapers around.

  He set the plate in front of her and poured himself a cup of coffee. “What a gorgeous morning. The air feels clean today.”

  Beth made no attempt to touch her breakfast. He picked up a fork and cut a piece for himself.

  “How bad is the Olivia Shaw situation?” she asked.

  It was good to see she was interested in work, but it was probably her way of avoiding a lecture on not eating.

  “Proctor screwed up the hit. The cops are all over it now. There’s no way of making that go away.”

  “Do the cops suspect anything?”

  “Hard to say at this point. I don’t think they suspect Olivia, but they will be looking to put someone’s head on a spike.”

  Beth picked up her juice and sipped it.

  “Do you want some of this omelet? It’s good.”

  Instead, she produced her Zippo lighter. She rolled her thumb across the Zippo’s wheel, and a flame popped into life. Roy had given up denying her a lighter long ago. It calmed her, even if she did burn something from time to time.

  “So, we’re vulnerable on this one?” she asked.

  Roy put his fork down. “Yeah. But to Proctor’s credit, he hasn’t left the cops much in the way of leads, so I think we’re in good shape there.”

  “How’s he holding up?”

  Roy had a ten-point scale when it came to their clients and their ability to deal with the situation. “I’d put him at a five. As long as the cops don’t come knocking, that number won’t go up.”

  “And if they do?”

  “I don’t think it’s a concern.”

  “It’s always a concern.”

  He detected a note of irritation in her voice. “Yes, we always need to be careful, but at the moment, there’s nothing to cause concern.”

  It was a politician’s answer and not one he favored, but as much as he had to manage their clients, he also had to manage Beth. She was ruthless. For her there were no shades of gray. She operated on a scorched-earth policy. At the first sign of trouble, she wanted all threats eliminated. His intervention had saved many lives over the years.

  “And what about Olivia?”

  “She’s rattled, but I think she’s got what it takes to go the distance on this one. I’d put her at a seven.”

  Beth passed her fingers over the flame. “I hear a but.”

  “Our vulnerability. The cops will need someone to hang the murder on. We can easily toss them Proctor, but his arrest would lead to some awkward questions. Olivia is a more natural choice. Cops always suspect the spouse. As loose ends go, Olivia’s can be trimmed a lot easier. It would be a shame to do that, though.”

  Beth snapped the Zippo shut and grinned at him. The damaged half of her face failed to move, making the smile lopsided. “You like her, don’t you?”

  He developed a soft spot for their clients on occasion. From time to time, he’d relate to their plight. Olivia was one of those clients.

  “It’s not that I like her. It’s that she’s different. She’s not like Proctor or her sister. There’s no malice in Olivia. Her husband was running around on her, and she just wanted a little retribution. I get that—and I know you do too.”

  Beth went back to her juice. “How much can we get from her?”

  When it came down to it, Infidelity Limited was a money business. As with any client, Roy had done his homework. When Clare reached out to him on Olivia’s behalf, he’d squeezed a financial snapshot from her about her sister. What Olivia owned and how much she owed. He fleshed out the details by running a credit check and doing a dash of house breaking. He’d broken into Olivia’s house prior to their first meeting to go through her hard-copy and electronic records. It hadn’t taken much to work up a decent financial picture on her. If someone didn’t pass muster on the money front, then he usually declined him or her as a client. Not all clients were judged on their net worth, however. If people possessed particular skills that might prove valuable down the road, they also got selected.

  “There’s four hundred and fifty grand in life insurance coming to her.”

  “So we can push her?”

  “I think so.”

  “Push her all the way?”

  Roy turned to the omelet to avoid answering. Beth was right. He did like Olivia, and as much as he wanted to go easy on her, he had a job to do.

  “When the cops fail to come up with a suspect, they will turn on her,” Beth said. “That means if we’re going to get what we can from her, we have to fast-track her.” She pushed her breakfast over to him, picked up the newspaper, and leafed through it.

  “So how far do you want to take it with Olivia?” Roy asked.

  Beth struck a flame with her Zippo and set fire to the newspaper. “I say we burn her up.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After a weekend of trying to accept her part in Richard’s murder, Olivia started her week by going into work, but there was no way she could carry off a professional demeanor with Richard’s murder looming over her. The fair thing to her clients was to palm them off onto the other Realtors at the agency. She arrived at nine and realized her mistake—an office full of people. She should have come in early to avoid them.

  Everyone stopped what they were doing to engage her the moment she stepped inside. She suffered through the seemingly never-ending wave of condolences and ran the gauntlet of sympathetic hugs. Her colleagues offered their love and support. She found their concern cloying. Every expression of sympathy made her more uncomfortable. They ate away at her facade of the devastated wife. She cast them aside with a brave face and a simple thank-you. She asked for space and shut herself away in her office. Safe in the confines of the room, she relaxed. She spent the next hour shooting off e-mails to agents and leaving client files for them to pick up later before slipping out.

  With that chore out of the way, it was time for the harder part—the funeral home.

  Olivia had buried her dead before. There was her first husband, Mark, then her mother. For both occasions, she’d gone to Steele Funeral and Cremation in Oakland.

  Leo Steele welcomed her upon her arrival. His hair had turned totally silver in the decade since she’d last come to him.

  “Mrs. Shaw, I’m so sorry for your loss. Come into my office, and we can discuss your husband.”

  Steele was sympathetic and professional. He explained he’d taken charge of Richa
rd’s body this morning when the coroner had released it. Olivia hoped the coroner’s swift release of Richard’s remains was a good sign. Surely, if they truly suspected her, they wouldn’t have turned the body over to her already.

  “Will this be an open-casket service?”

  She shook her head. Olivia knew Richard’s mother would want an open casket so she could say good-bye to her only son, but Olivia couldn’t do that. She couldn’t face him, no matter how good the cosmetic cover-up. She’d see through the makeup to the violence she had instigated.

  “Are you sure? I know it may not be something you want now, but it’s something many people regret afterward. We have a very skilled staff. He’ll look as you remember him. Mourners will be able to pay their respects to the Richard they knew and loved.”

  “No. Open casket wasn’t something Richard wanted,” she lied.

  Steele nodded his understanding. He proceeded to go over the series of events leading up to the funeral next week and how he’d coordinate with the church she’d selected. She did her best to listen, but her thoughts turned to Finz. The polygraph was all she could think about. It was a bullet she couldn’t dodge. If she refused, Finz would demand to know why. And if she took the test, Finz wouldn’t have to ask why. Her reasons would be written out before her. She could be overthinking this. Finz probably meant what he’d said; it was a formality. That said, she’d never known anyone to be polygraphed who wasn’t a suspect. She was so screwed.

  “Mrs. Shaw?”

  “Sorry. Yes.”

  “I just asked if you have any questions.”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Well, if you do, call me anytime.”

  She smiled. “I will.”

  Steele tactfully presented her with an invoice, and she wrote him a check.

  She squinted against the sunlight when she walked outside. It was quite a contrast to the muted lighting inside the funeral home.

  Her cell phone rang in her purse. Reflexively, she reached for it, but paused when she realized it was the one Roy had given her. She hadn’t expected to hear from him again. She pulled out the phone and answered it.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  She hurried across the street to her car and shut herself inside. “You killed Richard. Why?”

  “Meet me at the top of Mount Diablo now.”

  Before she could say any more, Roy hung up.

  She cursed under her breath. Roy was manipulating her, pulling her strings because he could. But as much as he might shove her around, it didn’t change the ugly fact that he’d screwed up. Killing Richard bound them tightly together. If Finz put two and two together, and she felt he would, they’d both go down for this. She bottled her frustration and gunned the engine.

  It didn’t take long to reach Mount Diablo’s summit. Her car labored on the winding road that led to the four-thousand-foot peak. The road came to an end at a turnaround and a small parking lot in front of the Summit Visitor Center and Museum. Despite Roy telling her to be here, she didn’t find him waiting for her. If their previous meeting was anything to go by, his absence was part of his vetting process. That meant someone else was watching her before giving him the okay. She was coming to realize these were the typical fun and games of dealing with Infidelity Limited. She parked in one of the vacant stalls and switched the engine off.

  Mount Diablo was a smart choice. The parking lot was deserted, except for one other car. Not surprising. There weren’t going to be many day hikers on a weekday morning. With just a single road going to the top, Roy had a clear view of anyone coming up the mountain. That would satiate his paranoia for security. If Olivia had turned to the cops, they’d have no way of proceeding unseen.

  Giving her zero notice also negated any chance of her turning to someone for help. Roy really knew how to isolate his clients. If she wanted the upper hand, that would have to change.

  She wondered what stunt Roy would pull this time. Was he going to parachute in? Come four-wheeling out from the trees? He seemed to like impressing everyone with Infidelity Limited’s slick operation, but he had nothing to be proud of right now. It would be hard to act so high and mighty when he’d screwed everything up.

  After thirty minutes, Roy rolled up in his Chrysler and parked two stalls over from her. He climbed from his car and gestured to her to join him.

  Something inside her snapped. The sight of him coolly waving at her like nothing serious had happened infuriated her. The man had killed Richard, and she was tired of playing his childish games. She burst from her car and charged at him.

  Surprise lit up his face, and his shock inspired her. It was about time he experienced a fraction of what she had been going through. She slammed into him, driving him back against the vehicle. She caught him across the jaw with her fist. The blow was good enough to pop one of her knuckles, but caused little more than a jerk of his head.

  “You bastard! He’s dead, and it’s all your fault.”

  He smothered her in a tight hug that stopped her from landing any further punches and rocked her gently. “I know. I know,” he cooed. “It shouldn’t have happened, but it did, and we have to deal with it now. Don’t we?”

  The rage left her as quickly as it had arrived. Her body sagged, but Roy’s grip kept her from falling to the ground. She sobbed in his arms, while he told her everything would be okay.

  How can it ever be okay? she thought. Roy couldn’t bring Richard back to life.

  Roy guided her around the Chrysler and placed her in the passenger seat. He got behind the wheel. “Let’s find somewhere a little more private.”

  He reversed out of his parking spot and drove the short distance down to the summit’s overflow parking lot. Despite it only being a couple of hundred yards from the top, it might as well have been a million miles away in its seclusion.

  “Out, please,” he said when he parked.

  Out of reflex, Olivia did as she was told. “Where are we going?”

  Roy slipped an arm through hers and maneuvered her to the restrooms. He pushed the door to the men’s room open and sent her ahead of him, then snapped the lock shut on the door.

  She didn’t have to ask what was happening next and began unbuttoning her blouse.

  Roy held up a hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

  He flicked her arms up and ran his hands down her sides, stomach, and back. He dropped to his knees, lifted her skirt, and repeated the move up and down each leg. The pat-down was intimate but not degrading, unlike the one Dolores had dished out at the mall.

  Why hadn’t he asked her to undress? Was it out of chivalry or out of trust? Dolores’s pat-down had seemed to have more to do with setting a tone and stating the balance of power than a security screen. So why not now? If anything, he should have amped up the security. It was a turning point for both of them. The deal had gone south in the worst way. Maybe due diligence went out the window when there was a murder to cover up.

  “Thank you, Olivia. There are picnic tables outside. Let’s enjoy them.”

  She wanted to scream. How could he be treating this like a casual get-together when Richard was dead?

  She followed him out to the picnic tables and sat across from him. A chill breeze swept over them.

  “How are you, Olivia?”

  Her rage flared. “How do you think? You killed my husband. I should turn you into the cops.”

  Roy smiled at her with the kind of smile adults reserved for children when they were humoring them. “But you won’t.”

  “No.”

  “Because it will incriminate you,” he said. “Have you talked to the police?”

  “Of course I have. They came to my house.”

  Roy nodded. “I do apologize for that. We are very discreet, but when something goes wrong, then there are limits to what can be done, because the police are bound to be involved.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn’t. I have to submit to a polygraph next week.�
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  Olivia caught a flicker of concern in Roy’s expression. He should be concerned, because she was. She didn’t have a clue what she would be asked, but one of the questions had to be: Did you kill your husband?

  “I wouldn’t sweat that too much. Do the police suspect your involvement?”

  “How would I know? It’s not like they would tell me.”

  “That’s true. At the same time, there’s not a lot you can admit to knowing either.”

  Does he really think that? she wondered. He might have said it for her benefit, but it sounded more like self-delusion.

  “I thought you ran a well-oiled machine. How are you going to clear up this mess?” she demanded. “You were supposed to hurt Richard. Nothing else. What went wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  Olivia snorted her contempt. “You’re going to stick to that story?”

  “Yes.”

  She felt her grip on her temper slip. “You killed Richard. That wasn’t in the plan.”

  “Yes, it was. Our only mistake was that Richard was found. Ideally, he would have simply disappeared.”

  “What?”

  His patronizing smile was back, and for the first time, it was merited. She felt like a child. She didn’t understand what was going on, and it scared her. A chill spread through her body.

  “It’s facts-of-life time, Olivia. You hired us to kill Richard. We never planned to let him go with just a beating.”

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  “I wasn’t entirely honest with you about Infidelity Limited’s mission. It would be nice if a firm of vigilantes dealt out a slice of street justice on our loved ones, but sadly that’s a pipe dream. The ease with which intelligent people fall for the simplest of scams never fails to astound me.”

  Yes, Olivia had been gullible. She couldn’t believe she’d been so dumb. Roy had set her up, and she’d walked face-first into his trap. The only excuse she could use in her defense was she’d been in a vulnerable place. He’d caught her in a moment of weakness, when she’d been angry with Richard and willing to believe in anything for a shot at revenge. Because of that, Richard had paid the price.