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Murder.com

Page 11

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre


  Sandy's mouth dropped open as she studied Tom's and Cliff's faces. “Why?"

  “Just part of the investigation.” Cliff said, moving toward the door.

  She put her hand on the knob, blocking Cliff's entrance. “Does Ken know you're here?"

  Tom shook his head.

  “I better call him.” She abruptly turned to go inside, but Tom stopped her. “I don't want you to do that."

  Her eyes filled with fear. “He'll be furious with me for letting you in."

  “You just tell him you had to or we'd have broken down the door. We have a warrant. We're within the law."

  Sandy choked back a sob. “He'll kill me, Tom.” She studied his face a moment before reluctantly moving out of the way so they could enter the house.

  Tom frowned as he stepped inside, wondering if the story of slipping on a wet floor was the truth. “You might want to take the twins and go somewhere for a couple of hours. This might alarm them."

  “They're visiting my mother."

  His eyes searched her face for a moment, then he directed her into the kitchen and reassured her they wouldn't be long. Leaving her, he joined Cliff and the officers in the search.

  Sandy leaned against the kitchen counter, tears streaming down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. She knew Ken was in trouble, but she didn't know why. Once he found out she'd let police in to search the place, he'd hit her again for sure.

  What had happened to her sweet, gentle husband of almost nineteen years? Something had caused him to go over the edge. He might even kill her if she didn't get out. No, she wouldn't be the brunt of his attacks any longer.

  One of the officers walked through the living room and out the door with a plastic bag, full of what looked like garbage from the wastebaskets. She followed him to the door and watched him deposit it into the trunk of the police car. Her heart pounded so hard against her ribs, she thought it would burst through her chest. What could they find in the garbage? What made them suspicious of her husband?

  She glanced at her watch. Ken would be arriving home within the hour. Panic rose in her heart. Hurrying down the hallway, she looked into each room until she found the two detectives in Ken's home office. “Tom, could I speak to you?"

  He stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door closed. “What is it?"

  Her hands were clasped in front her so tightly that her knuckles began to turn white. She stared at the floor. “I'd like to call Angie Nevers."

  Tom leaned up against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. “I'd rather you didn't call anyone right now."

  “I feel like my privacy is being invaded and it's making me very nervous. I can't stay here and watch. If Angie's home, I'll go see her."

  He let out a sigh and nodded. “Okay.” He pulled away from the wall and followed her into the kitchen where she dialed the number.

  “Angie? Sandy. Can I take you up on your offer? Thanks, I'll be there within thirty minutes."

  After she hung up, she dashed into the master bedroom, threw some clothes into a duffel bag and grabbed her makeup kit.

  Tom observed the nervous woman's actions, noticing the already packed makeup kit. He walked her outside and held the car door open as she tossed everything into the back seat, then climbed into the driver's seat. “Looks like you plan to hide out awhile."

  Sandy never looked at him as she turned the key and gunned the engine. “As long it takes to get this mess settled.” She backed out the driveway and sped down the street toward the Nevers’ home.

  * * * *

  Cliff waited for Tom at the front door. “What's happening?"

  Tom backed toward the door as he watched the car disappear into the distance. “She's scared. You can't tell me she slipped on a wet floor. Those bruises were caused by punches."

  “Where's she headed?"

  “The Nevers’ place. I listened to her conversation with Angie. Sounds like they'd planned this in case Sandy needed an escape."

  As the two men walked deeper into the house, they were startled by the squeal of car tires and screeching brakes. They dashed back to the front door and met Ken Weber entering the house, his face contorted in anger and fear.

  Tom raised his hand. “Sandy's fine. She isn't here right now. We have a search warrant and are conducting a murder investigation."

  Ken's eyes flared. “Here? At my house? I thought Ryan killed himself."

  Cliff stepped forward. “No, Mr. Weber. Mr. Conners was murdered."

  “You think I'm the murderer?” Ken snapped, pointing a finger at his own chest.

  “No one is accusing you of anything. Yet.” Cliff stared into Ken's eyes.

  Grabbing Tom's arm, Ken jerked his head toward Cliff. “Where the hell did you pick up this guy? He acts like he's in charge. I thought you were."

  Tom looked into his face. “Settle down Ken, he's my right-hand man. We're both in this equally. Whatever he says is fine with me.” With that Tom removed Ken's hand from his arm. Then he and Cliff walked into Ken's office and closed the door behind them.

  Ken lurched forward, but stopped abruptly when an officer stepped in front of him, his hand resting on his gun.

  * * * *

  Only after the big gates to the Nevers’ property closed behind her did Sandy Weber breathe a sigh of relief. She drove over the crest and viewed the mansion as a safe haven. At least for the moment.

  Angie stood at the open front door and threw her arms around her, then pushed her back at arm's length and frowned. “Dear God. What has he done to you?"

  Sandy put her hands to her face. “All hell is breaking loose. Tom and his detective friend are searching my house. I'm sure Ken is home by now and he's probably furious. I don't know what's going on."

  Taking one of the bags, Angie put an arm around Sandy's shoulders and brought her inside, closing the door with her foot. “I'm surprised Tom didn't bring you himself."

  She bit her lip. “He doesn't know Ken hit me. I told him I slipped and fell. But I don't think he believed me. It surprised me when he agreed to let me call you and then let me leave. I guess I'm not a suspect in whatever they're looking for."

  Angie led her into the kitchen. She'd excused Marty for the rest of the day after receiving Sandy's call. Marty loved to gossip with her friends and there was no need to give her more to talk about. “Have you eaten anything?"

  Sandy shook her head.

  Angie busied herself warming up some chicken Marty had prepared earlier, and fixed a plate for each of them. They ate in silence for several moments before Sandy spoke, her eyes brimming with tears. She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed. “What am I going to do? Ken's in big trouble."

  Angie reached across the table and patted her arm. “I'll call Tom later. Maybe he can enlighten us.” But her fears were escalating and she didn't like the thoughts going through her mind. Did Ken have something to do with Ryan's or Bud's murder? The thought of it made her stomach tie into knots. Having lost her appetite, she pushed her plate away.

  * * *

  Chapter Eighteen

  After two more hours of searching through the Weber household, Tom stood and stretched his aching back. “So far we've found nothing concrete to connect Ken with either Bud's or Conners’ deaths. But my gut tells me he's guilty of something. Let's take the stuff to the office and go through it there. I'm ready to call it a day."

  Cliff lifted his hat a ways off his head, ran his fingers through his unruly hair, then shoved it back on. “Strange how the criminal mind never takes into consideration how many innocent people are going to be hurt. Already, we've seen Mrs. Weber suffering. And look at the grief Mrs. Nevers is going through. Makes one wonder if a warped mind is capable of loving or caring."

  Tom shook his head and went out into the hallway, looking for Ken. He finally found him in the back yard, pacing the side of the pool.

  “Ken, we're through for now. I apologize for the inconvenience, but we may be back."

  Ken's eyes
narrowed. “Where's Sandy?” Tom hesitated about telling him, yet she hadn't indicated that he conceal her whereabouts. “She's visiting Angie Nevers. It upset her that the police were searching her home."

  “No kidding?” Ken sneered.

  Tom went back into the house just as the two officers assisting them prepared to leave. He and Cliff, each with a plastic bag, followed them outside. They dropped the bags into the trunk of the police car and slammed it shut. He gave the officers instructions to take the evidence back to the station.

  He then went to the unmarked car and slid behind the steering wheel while Cliff climbed into the passenger side. “You want to go with me out to the Nevers’ place?” Tom asked.

  “What you have to say won't take two detectives. Drop me at the station. Hell, I could have ridden with those officers."

  “No problem.” He let Cliff out at the station and continued on his way. He called Angie on his cell phone. Her voice sounded strong and capable. She seemed to be holding up well. Sandy's presence would force her to think about other things instead of her recent tragedy. The gate stood open, the electric eye closing it once he'd whipped through.

  Angie led Tom into the study where Sandy sat with a dazed expression. She glanced up at Tom when he entered the room, her expression drawn and questioning.

  He went to the bar, made drinks for all of them, and sat down in a chair opposite the two women. “Sandy, I hope it will ease your mind to know that we found nothing to connect Ken to any of the crimes."

  She sat quietly for a few moments before finally looking up at him. “I'm still scared."

  He furrowed his brow. “I can understand your worry and concern. But why are you scared?"

  “Because Ken has turned violent."

  Tom knew something drastic had happened, but he wanted to get specific details from Sandy. “He's threatened you?"

  She nodded. “More than that.” She pointed to her face. “He did this."

  “Are you telling me that he's never hit you before?"

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Never, until recently. He even hit one of the twins. That's why I sent them away."

  His face serious, he scooted forward in the chair. “When did this behavior start?"

  “Right after Bud died. But became more violent after Conners’ death.” She glanced at Angie, her gaze apologetic.

  “Have you noticed other changes?"

  She nodded. “Oh, yes."

  “For instance?"

  “He paces the floor, his gaze darts back and forth, he's up in the middle of the night and sometimes abruptly leaves. If I ask where he's been, he tells me to shut up.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “He's just not the same man."

  Tom glanced at Angie. “She shouldn't go back home."

  “She won't. I'll keep her here."

  Sandy glanced from one to the other. “But what if he comes looking for me?"

  Tom glanced at Angie. “Don't leave your gate open any more. Make sure everyone has checked in with you before you open it. By all means don't let Ken in. If he persists, call the police.” He noticed a flash of fear pass over Angie's face.

  “You think he might try something at my house?"

  “You can't take any chances. Pass this on to Marty too. She mustn't open that gate if it's Ken."

  Angie walked to the window and stared out. Tom watched her, wondering what he'd said that had upset her.

  Sandy stood, wringing her hands. “I can't stay here. Angie's had enough grief. She doesn't need my burdens too."

  Angie turned from the window and set her glass on the sill. “You're not going anywhere. We'll both be safer here. I've got my gun upstairs and no one will break in on us."

  Tom looked at her with surprise. “You know how to shoot?"

  “Of course. I have a permit to carry a gun.” She waved a hand toward Sandy. “So does she."

  “I've known you two gals all these years and didn't know either one of you knew beans about guns."

  Angie smiled. “It's not something one boasts about. But, Bud, Sandy, Ken, Marty and I attended several different gun classes. Afterwards, we all applied for our permits. I carry my small Barretta in my purse."

  “It definitely puts my mind at ease to know you women have the knowledge to protect yourselves.” He turned his attention toward Sandy. “I think it would be wise for you to stay here."

  Angie touched Sandy's shoulder. “Why don't you go upstairs and soak in a nice warm bath. I need to talk to Tom for a few minutes before he leaves."

  “You're sure my staying here isn't inconvenient?"

  “I'm sure."

  Sandy left them and went up to the guest bedroom.

  Angie went to the bar and freshened her gin and tonic. “I hope I'm not keeping you, Tom, but I didn't want to talk in front of Sandy. It would only make her more nervous."

  “No problem. What's on your mind?"

  She took a sip of her drink, then began. “I don't know if any of this will have a bearing on Bud's murder, but it may be relevant."

  Tom sat on the edge of his chair as Angie filled him in about Melinda, finding the letter addressed to Bud at Marty's place and her confrontation with Marty. When she finished, Tom exhaled noisily and leaned back in the chair. He brushed his hand across the stubble on his chin. “You're quite a woman."

  “Well, I don't know why you think so, but thanks anyway."

  “You've done all this sleuthing without anyone's help. But, I'm worried about Melinda. She sounds dangerous."

  “When I first met her, I thought I'd taken on more than I could handle. However, I don't feel that way any more.

  “Why's that?"

  “Because I don't think she's Bud's daughter."

  Tom leaned forward, his brows raised. “But Marty states she is. What makes you think she wouldn't know the father of her own child?"

  Angie got up and paced the room. Placing her forefinger on her chin, she paused in front of Tom. “I've thought about the situation and mulled it over in my mind a thousand times. At first, I became furious with Bud, threw all his pictures in the trash. Then the more I thought about it.... “Her voice quivered.

  “Go on."

  “That night Bud and Ken were celebrating the big contract that got the company off its feet and running, I'd just lost a baby and the doctor had me on heavy doses of tranquilizers, so I excused myself and went to bed."

  She sat down opposite Tom and continued. “Marty told me she'd joined the men in the celebration and they all got drunk. All she remembers is Bud walking her home. However, hours lapsed before she awoke and found herself naked and Bud, fully dressed, sprawled across the foot of her bed. Now, what I don't understand, if they'd been making love, how come Bud was fully dressed? I think they both passed out and nothing happened."

  Tom raised his brows. “Now come on Angie, give me a break."

  She waved her hand. “Wait, hear me out. Then I'll listen to what you think."

  He nodded. “Okay, fair enough."

  “You haven't met Melinda. And until you do, you might not understand what I'm going to tell you. While trying to put the picture together in my mind, Dr. Parker made a comment in his office the day Melinda went in for the DNA testing. It set me to thinking even more."

  “What's that?"

  “That Melinda had none of Bud's characteristics, so she must resemble her mother.” Angie pointed a finger at Tom. “That girl looks nothing like Marty. But, she resembles someone else."

  Tom leaned forward. “And may I ask who?"

  Angie stared into his eyes and kept her voice low. “Ken Weber."

  * * *

  Chapter Nineteen

  The words had no more fallen from Angie's lips when the phone rang. She put the receiver to her ear, then her face turned pale and she shot a look of fear at Tom. “Hello, Ken."

  He immediately moved to her side.

  “Yes, she's here, but she's resting at the moment. Can I give her a message?” Angie's blue eyes filled with concern.
“No, she won't be coming home tonight. She's planning on staying here a few days."

  She took the phone from her ear and stared at it. “He hung up."

  Tom took the receiver and dropped it on the cradle. “He's upset."

  Angie wiped a hand across her forehead. “I'm really worried about Sandy. She can't believe that Ken's turned into a dangerous man, yet she's scared to death of him. I'm afraid if she goes home, he'll really hurt her or even worse. Just look what he's done to her already. It's awful."

  Tom touched her shoulder and pointed toward the couch. “I realize that. I'm assigning a guard to your gate tonight. Now, finish telling me your story."

  She sat down and took a sip of her drink. “Where did I end before the phone rang?"

  “Something about Melinda resembling Ken Weber."

  “Oh, yes.” She folded both hands around her glass. “Have you ever noticed the unique color of Ken's eyes? They're an unusual sharp, clear green. The twins have a touch of that in their eyes, but they take more after Sandy.” She frowned. “That's the first thing I noticed about Melinda. Those intense green eyes. They're almost identical to Ken's, but I'd swear they even stand out more.” She shook her head. “They look into your very soul. So cold and calculating. I get a chill down my spine every time I see her."

  Tom listened intently. “I'd like to meet this woman. In fact, I'd like to arrest her."

  Angie jerked her head around. “Why?"

  Tom raised a brow. “Because she's blackmailing you."

  She sighed. “Well, she hasn't succeeded in getting any money out of me yet. But what I'm anxious to see are the results of the DNA tests, which should be ready any day."

  “Where does this Melinda live?"

  “I don't know, but I'm sure I could find out from Marty."

  Tom stood and went to the bar. “What if the tests show Bud isn't the father? How will Marty take the news after all these years of him supporting the girl?"

  Angie pushed some loose strands of hair behind her ears. “She'll be shocked. She truly believes Bud is Melinda's father."

  “What do you think happened that night?"

  “Ken was still single at the time, and quite a party boy. Bud and I even suspected that he might have a thing for Marty. Nothing serious, mind you. Ken had his sights set higher than a housekeeper, that's for sure.” She stood and hugged herself as she paced. “Bud supposedly walked Marty to the cottage and I think he passed out on the foot of her bed. When he didn't return to the house, Ken went looking for him and found them both conked out. He took advantage of the moment and left."

 

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