A Killer Necklace

by Melodie Campbell

  His awful men’s fragrance filled her nose.

  Her normal admiration for a fellow who looked after himself and was wearing expensive and well-kept clothes and stylish footwear morphed into revulsion. A disgust that manifested itself in the pit of her stomach and threatened to rise into nausea.

  She guessed her initial shock was wearing off. She wanted to think it was replaced by a calm and rational evaluation of the reality of the situation but the truth of the matter was it felt more like panic.

  My wedding tomorrow!

  Gina, you have so much more to worry about than that!

  I thought I knew Cathy!

  What is she doing listening to this brute?

  A victim like me?

  She was fine in the store.

  She was going to introduce me to her date.

  She’s dating the guy who tried to run over Sylvia?

  Gina attempted to gather her thoughts, which spun a million miles an hour around and around in her head, to draw them into the centre.

  He looks sort of familiar but, my God, I didn’t get a very good look.

  Wracking her brain, she wondered if she saw a picture of him on TV or in a magazine article or something.

  Besides the wedding, what else have I been spending any time on?

  Louisa’s murder.

  Does this have to do with the murder?

  Earlier Becki had said, “In 97% of cases, the suspect is mentioned at some point during the first 30 days of the investigation.”

  Cathy knows this man.

  Gina remembered a conversation in her condo.

  Yes, a long time ago, Cathy was head over heels in love with Louisa’s husband. They were having an affair.

  Could this kidnapper be Garry Davenport?

  He’s supposed to be in jail for fraud.

  The more I think about it, fraud doesn’t carry a life sentence.

  “I know who you are!” she shouted.

  She was pleased that her voice didn’t crack.

  “Congratulations,” he growled back. “That and a nickel will get you a cup of coffee.”

  Measured by the current cost of a cup of coffee, that’s an ancient expression. That nailed it. It fits. Garry wouldn’t be a young man.

  Gina was restrained so low down—her head falling below the level of the car’s windows—that she couldn’t make “help me” faces at passengers in other cars on the road or at pedestrians walking along sidewalks.

  From her point of view, the only objects she could make out were telephone poles, the tangle of wires that connected them and the crenellation of rooftops—some old, some new, some residential, some industrial.

  Then she could tell by the surge of momentum that they were speeding along on a highway. Blue sky became visible. And a few billboards that must have been erected up high on embankments.

  Finally there came an undeniable indication of their location—the thunder of a humongous jet airplane flying close to the ground.

  It came into sight framed in the thick glass of the car window. Its bottom section hung low and its wheels were deployed like a giant Canada Goose coming in for landing.

  While it passed right over top of them, Gina judged its flight path in relation to their direction of travel and calculated that they were on the 401, right along the airport in Mississauga, and heading west.

  Definitely time to speak up again.

  “Cathy, do you know that this car is wanted in connection to a hit and run that put a woman in the hospital?”

  “No,” Cathy said firmly, “I don’t know anything about that.”

  From a sideways angle, Gina saw Cathy’s head tilt up, then her eyes in the rear-view mirror, with a glance at Gina and then at Garry behind/beside her.

  I can’t make out the expression in her eyes.

  “Is the blackmailing bitch dead?”

  Gina decided she was going to go ahead and call him Garry. “No, Garry.”

  “Well then, she soon will be.”

  This did not bode at all well for Gina’s own longevity.

  “Listen to this guy, Cathy,” Gina commanded. “See how violent he is? Call 911, then drive us to the nearest police station, or maybe a hospital.”

  “I’ll break your neck right here and now if she tries,” Garry threatened both Gina and Cathy.

  “Garry…” Cathy seemed to be trying to soothe her ex-lover from the front seat. “We’re planning to go to Rome, remember?”

  Planning?

  Present tense?

  “Whatever trouble you’re in, why don’t you forget about it, and we’ll soon be far away from everything.”

  With that, Gina decided to heap it on. She needed to get through to Cathy. “I think your boyfriend killed his wife. You better wake up, Cathy. Or you could be next.”

  “That’s simply not possible,” Cathy said, her words toneless. She kept on driving.

  Garry muffled a snort.

  Chapter 36

  Black. That was the mood that coloured Tony presently. Pure black, and if anyone even tried to cross him now, they would feel his fist.

  He was at the condo, pacing restlessly. They had decided he should stay there in case Gina phoned, while Becki drove to the church.

  But Gina wasn’t at the church. Becki had just phoned from there, and was still on the line. Everyone—all Gina’s family, her parents, Uncle Jerry and Aunt Linda, Aunt Carla and niece Nellie—everyone involved in the rehearsal was gathered at the church.

  Everyone but Gina.

  “Where was the last place she was supposed to be?” Tony said into the phone. He fought to keep his voice cool.

  “She was picking up my dress from the bridal shop, plus a few things of her own. Then we were going to all go together, from her parents. At least, I thought we were.” There was a shaky tone to Becki’s voice that betrayed her fear.

  “Then we retrace her steps. Where’s that bridal shop?”

  “I’ll come with you,” Becki said. “The sales clerks will speak to me. You might frighten them.”

  Tony grunted. “On my way,” he said, then clicked off.

  The drive to the church was one he knew well. Years ago, he had been an altar boy there, with his cousin Ian. Many a confession had been blurted out to Father O’Flynn in those days when he was young and still going to mass. Later, older and definitely jaded, he had only graced the building for the odd wedding and one family funeral.

  Funeral. His whole body tensed.

  Becki was waiting outside at the curb. She pulled open the passenger door and threw herself into the seat.

  As Tony shifted into first, Becki gave directions to Bella Sposa. She looked at her watch.

  “It’s a little after eight-thirty. They should still be there until nine.”

  Tony drove faster. He made a sharp right on College Street, veered north on Bathurst, then onto Bloor Street, weaving in and out of traffic like a Formula 1 driver. All the time, the pounding of his heart sounded way up to his ears.

  At Becki’s instruction, Tony turned off Bloor and onto a small side road. Bella Sposa, stated the sign to his right, illuminated from behind. He pulled around the back of the building.

  “Look over there,” said Becki, pointing. “What’s that?”

  Tony stopped the car beside something heaped on the driveway. A long grey garment bag.

  Becki was out of the car and running. She reached the bag first, and didn’t even bother to pick it up before undoing the zipper.

  The maid of honour dress.

  “That’s it,” Becki croaked. “My dress.” She rose from a crouch, with the bag in her hands.

  “She was here and she dropped it,” Tony said. His stomach twisted. No way, would Gina drop a dress and just leave it there. This was bad.

  “Her purse is here too, underneath. We need to ask inside. If they know anything,” Becki said. She began to walk with Gina’s purse and the garment bag in her arms. Then she scrunched it under one arm, and started to run.


  The etched glass front door to Bella Sposa was cheerily bright. Becki bounded up the steps with Tony right behind her.

  Once inside, Tony scanned the room. Only a few young women shoppers remained in the store. They twittered like little birds. Tony watched Becki as she sought out the elder sales clerk.

  A big smile of recognition started on the older lady’s face and then it changed to something like uncertainty.

  “Can I help you?”

  “You’re Ilonka, right? You know Gina Monroe? I’m her matron of honour. Was she here earlier picking up my dress?” Becki was practically panting.

  “Why yes! Is there a problem with it?” She eyed the garment bag in Becki’s arms.

  “She’s missing,” blurted Tony. “We need to know if she left here with anyone.”

  “She did,” said Ilonka, clearly relieved. “She met a friend here. Miss Monroe waited for her to finish the fitting, and they left together.”

  Tony was about to burst with impatience. “What friend? What was her name?”

  “Cathy,” said Ilonka. “Cathy Spencer. I believe she is one of the wedding guests. Oh! And I guess you must be the bridegroom. How very nice to meet you.” She held out a thin hand.

  Tony missed it completely. His head whipped over to Becki.

  “Yes. That would be our Cathy,” Becki said softly, meeting his eyes.

  She turned to the sales clerk. “Could you possibly give me her address? I have it at home, of course. It’s just that I need to get in touch with Gina right away, and she’s not answering her phone. It must have run out of power.”

  Becki was cunning, Tony had to admit. Smart of her to handle this. Even so, he saw a look of hesitation cross Ilonka’s face.

  “It’s really important,” Becki insisted. “It’s about the rehearsal dinner.”

  “Oh!” said Ilonka. Her face relaxed. “Well, of course then. If she’s a wedding guest, of course you have her home address. Silly me.”

  Ilonka walked behind the counter and slipped on the reading glasses that hung from a chain around her neck. Then she pulled open a drawer, fingered through slips of paper and pulled one out. With her right hand, she picked up a pen and started writing.

  “Here you go,” she said, handing Becki a white piece of notepaper with the store logo across the top.

  “Thank you,” Becki said. “I really appreciate it. You’ve saved me a trip.”

  “My pleasure,” said Ilonka, removing her glasses. “Do send us a photo from the wedding. We love to display them in the store.”

  Tony was already down the concrete steps by the time Becki emerged from the store.

  Twenty minutes later they were standing at the front door of Cathy Spencer’s midtown house.

  “No security system here,” Tony noted with satisfaction.

  “At least let me try the doorbell, before you break down the door,” Becki said.

  “The place is all dark. There’s probably no one here, but just in case, we need to check every room for signs that Gina may have been here.” Tony didn’t want to say the worst. Not in front of Becki. “And I’m not going to break down the door.”

  Tony had taken a small brown leather case from the back seat of the car and was opening it now. “Keep a watch out, will you? Let me know if anyone comes within viewing distance, or seems curious.”

  “What are you going to do?” Becki hissed.

  “Just keep an eye out.”

  Becki turned around to the watch the street, as ordered.

  Tony wasted no time. It was an old fashioned lock, not one of those new electric ones, so he had the right tools. Won’t take a lot of time.

  And it didn’t.

  Tony was through the doorway in under two minutes. “You look around the main floor. I’ll take upstairs.” He raced up the carpeted stairs, leaving Becki flustered in the hall.

  He started in the master bedroom, checking the closet, en-suite bathroom and each side of the bed. Then he meticulously made his way through the other two bedrooms and study.

  Nothing.

  He ran down the stairs, calling to Becki. “I’m going into the basement. You stay here.”

  At the bottom of the basement stairs, he momentarily held his breath. Usually he was cool in a ‘situation,’ but this was no ordinary emergency. This was where he might face his worst nightmare. He twisted the door handle and let himself in.

  The basement was unfinished, which was not unusual in a house of this size. In front of him, row upon row of boxes lined up with precision, like little lines of soldiers. He checked down each path between them, and all around the walls of the basement.

  Nothing. This time, he felt the relief spread across his face down to his throat.

  He climbed the stairs.

  No sound came from the main floor. “Becki?”

  “I’m upstairs,” she said. “Come back up.”

  Tony ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. Becki was in the master bedroom. She turned around when Tony appeared at the open door.

  “Cathy packed to go away,” she said. Her voice was firm.

  “How do you know?”

  Becki pointed to the walk-in closet. “There are a whole bunch of empty hangers in here. And a lot of her underwear is missing from the drawers.”

  Tony was baffled. “How can you tell that underwear is missing?”

  Becki pulled open the right top drawer of the long dresser. “There’s hardly any underwear in here. See? Every woman keeps the things she uses most in the top drawers. That’s underwear.” She pushed the drawer closed and moved to the closet.

  “Maybe they’re dirty?” Tony suggested.

  Becki shook her head. “I checked the hamper over there. Hardly anything in it.”

  She walked back to the closet.

  “See here?” She pointed to a shoe rack that spanned a three foot section of the large walk-in. “A bunch of shoes missing from the most reachable shelves. Cathy packed to go away.”

  Tony ran a hand roughly through his tangled dark brown hair. Where the hell did she go? And did she take Gina with her?

  Chapter 37

  The damned Echo scarf. When Gina had bought the thing—on sale—at Holt’s, she’d never envisioned wearing it this way—stuffed in her mouth, with another scarf—Cathy’s—tied around her face, holding it steady.

  She was lying on her back on top of a motel room bed. Her hands were tied in front of her with duct tape. Ditto, her ankles. Not only were her wrists and ankles taped together, but he had rolled another longer length of tape horizontally so it formed a rope. And that was tied in a reef knot around the grey tape on her wrists and then around the closest bed post, where it bevelled in partway up.

  Finally, Garry had wrapped her entire hands in duct tape, so she couldn’t use her fingers to loosen the bonds. Not a chance she could work them free.

  Luckily, her ears were still working.

  After trussing her up, Garry had gone straight to the laptop on the little table and stayed busy there. Cathy was occupied with throwing clothes into suitcases.

  Gina’s mind was a wild thing, turning over alternatives. They hadn’t killed her. That was the most important thing. If they were going to kill her, they would have done it right away. So they didn’t intend to. Otherwise, they never would have taken her to the motel and tied her up like this.

  No, they didn’t intend to hurt her, of that she was now certain. Thank goodness she knew Cathy. Because there was no doubt in her mind now that Garry was a killer. And Cathy was, in her own convoluted way, protecting her.

  Loyalty to a lover was one thing, but Cathy wouldn’t let Gina come to any harm.

  After a while, Cathy and Garry had retreated to the bathroom to talk. She strained with all her might to listen.

  Cathy’s voice was in hushed whispers, urgent, but the words were undecipherable through the wall. Gina strained, but couldn’t hear Garry’s baritone response.

  She waited.

  After a while, Cathy came
out alone. She looked tired, and her eyes wouldn’t meet Gina’s.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t let anything happen to you. We just need you out of the way for a while. So here’s what’s going to happen.”

  She took a breath and turned toward the sliding glass doors. She parted the drapes and seemed to be scanning the sky, which had darkened. “Garry and I are leaving the country. He’s managed to change the tickets, so we have to run. We’re leaving you here, but don’t worry. The maid will come in about two hours to make up the room. They always do after you check out. She’ll let you go.”

  Her eyes darted over to Gina, and then just as quickly, away.

  The toilet flushed. And then Gina could hear the sound of water running.

  Cathy turned back into the room.

  “I know you’ll probably call the police. I’m sad it had to be this way, Gina—really I am. I like you. And I know you don’t understand. But I’m not going to lose Garry this time. I have to get him far away from here.”

  Her voice got a little softer.

  “Garry explained about the car. I don’t care what he’s done. I love him. And if you really love Tony, you’ll understand why I’m doing this. It’s as simple as that.”

  Garry came out of the washroom. “Ready?”

  Cathy nodded. She pointed to the suitcases, and then came back for her purse. She clicked off the light switch. Then she followed Garry out the door, without looking back.

  The door clicked shut.

  Once outside the room, Garry continued down the hallway, toward the front entrance. Cathy followed, then hesitated.

  You couldn’t die of thirst in a day. All they needed was one day. And she had just thought of a way to buy them a little more time.

  “Just a minute,” she said.

  She walked to the door of the room just in front of her. It had a Do Not Disturb sign plugged into the card slot.

  Cathy pulled it out, then went back to the door they had just exited. She slipped the sign into that card slot.