Kiss of Deceit

by Patricia A. Rasey

  LeAnne stood, walked to the box, and tossed a few porn magazines on the table in the center of her room. Several pictures followed: nudes of different women from various counties, Tony with a menagerie of women and friends, Judge Hargrove, and so on. They also had confiscated a few toys: vibrators, handcuffs, and the like. Had there not been an ongoing murder investigation, Tony appeared guilty of nothing more than possessing pornographic material and enjoying kinky sex.

  “We put out an APB on Tony,” Bob said, leafing through one of the magazines. “It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Jenson and Henderson lost him shortly after they began the chase. He cut through fields and wooded areas, but they’re still out there looking. Hopefully you’re right; his red shiny Harley will stick out like a sore thumb.” LeAnne glanced at the objects. “You going to the BG lab?”

  Bob nodded. “Shortly. Anything you want me to take?”

  “Just his sheets and the jeans—hopefully we’ll find some hairs, fibers, or something to connect him.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Otherwise, we have squat. That’s probably why Drake’s in his office. He has to be mad as hell at both of us and worried about the flack he’s going to take from the judge and what bad press can do to his career. Do you think we screwed up?”

  “Look at this stuff, LeAnne. The only thing missing is newspaper articles collected from each murder. I say this man has the classic background. Age is a little young, but he did grow up without a mother. Maybe that’s why he hated women.”

  “There is one thing that bugs me, though,” LeAnne said, biting the cap on her pen. “Tony’s barely in his twenties. The crime scenes speak of sophistication—well thought out. That usually indicates someone more mature, like early thirties. Plus, we found no collected trophies. Nothing that would indicate he took these women’s lives.”

  “We have the VHS tapes.”

  “So they show him having sex with several women. One with Jillian, one with Jillian and Miranda, and several we don’t know. Another curious thing: we found none with his ex-fiancée. What do you make of that?”

  “Could be the reason they broke up. Do you suppose she found Tony’s collection?”

  “A good possibility.”

  “Maybe we ought to bring her in for questioning.”

  “Yeah, and maybe you should get this stuff to BG. I want the results ASAP. If the paint doesn’t match, or the fibers aren’t consistent with those found by the grave, we’re all in it deep.”

  * * *

  LeAnne sat across the table from Julie Hensly, as she toyed with the strings to her jogging pants, barely able to look LeAnne in the eye. Bob had left for BG a few hours earlier, to drop off what little evidence they had collected on his way to the airport. His flight schedule had him leaving the Toledo Airport at five-thirty this evening for Massachusetts. Hopefully, the detectives in Boston would be able to shed some light on their case. Maybe, just maybe, the DNA found from BUSL’s unsolved case of a few years back would match the DNA found on Samantha Duncan. They already knew Tony attended BUSL at the time of the murder. And if they could get matching DNA from the crimes and match that of Tony’s, her life would get a whole lot easier.

  “There really is no reason to be nervous, Julie,” LeAnne said, her voice soothing. She needed Julie’s cooperation, not her apprehension. “I just need to ask you a few questions about Tony.”

  “Is he in some kind of trouble? I guess that’s a good assumption,” she answered her own question. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here, right?”

  “All I can tell you is that we have issued a warrant for his arrest.

  We have an APB out on him.”

  Julie looked away, chewing her thumbnail. LeAnne felt sorry for the young girl. Her infatuation for Anthony Hargrove lent her nothing but trouble.

  “Do you know where he is, Julie?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any idea where he might go?”

  Again, “No.”

  “I understand that the engagement between the two of you was called off. Is this correct?”

  She glanced at LeAnne, thumbnail forgotten. “We broke up.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “Is it important to the case you are building against him?”

  “Could be.”

  Julie paused, seemingly weighing what she might have to say and if it would be of any help to the police. “Tony really isn’t a bad person.”

  “Then why break up?”

  She shrugged. “I loved Tony…I still do. Maybe that’s why I broke it off. It hurt, you know; all the other women. I couldn’t handle them.”

  “What other women?”

  “He used to tell me it was just flirting. That he had a flirtatious nature—that I would just have to get used to it. He said he never slept with any of them. They were his friends, that’s all.”

  “When did you ever see this flirtatious nature of his?”

  “When we’d go to bars sometimes. Women were always approaching him, even though we were together. He’d wink at them, pat their backsides. They would whisper things in his ear I couldn’t hear. Tony would always grin. That kind of thing.”

  “Did you ever see him with Jillian Gallego?”

  Obviously, by her expression, Julie knew about the unsolved case. Who in the county hadn’t? “No.”

  “Miranda Holliday?”

  Tears formed in her eyes. “No.”

  “Samantha Duncan?”

  More tears. “No.”

  Not the answers LeAnne had hoped for. She had one left. “Cora Smith?”

  “He didn’t kill those women if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Cora Smith?”

  Julie appeared to weigh her options of telling the truth or not. Luckily, she opted for the truth. “He’s given her rides before on his motorcycle.”

  “And where were you at the time?”

  “I stayed behind at the bar with my friends.”

  “How much time did these rides take?”

  Julie looked to the floor, her embarrassment reddening her cheeks. “Not long, but there was once when it took a few hours.”

  “You think he was sleeping with Cora?”

  A lengthy pause followed. Finally, Julie nodded. “The reason you broke up?”

  Julie leveled her gaze. “That and many other reasons. I couldn’t take the not knowing anymore. He told me he never slept with Cora…or anyone else. But I didn’t believe him.”

  LeAnne switched topics. “Did you ever go into his room in the basement of his father’s house?”

  “Once or twice. But I got the opinion he didn’t like people invading his privacy. We hardly ever stayed at his place.”

  “You and Tony, were you two having sexual relations?” She cleared her throat; her cheeks flamed red. “No.”

  LeAnne sat back in her chair. Probably the reason Julie never got to star in his X-rated features, she supposed.

  “We were waiting for marriage, Detective.”

  “Did you ever make out—heavy petting?” Her gaze widened. “Why?”

  “Well, if you and Tony hardly went into his room, where would the two of you go for a little, uh…privacy?”

  “His dad was rarely home, and if he was, Mr. Hargrove always retired early. Ruth, their maid, usually went to her quarters following supper, which was also upstairs. Tony and I watched television in the family room most of the time. Sometimes we would neck, but I was afraid to cross that line with him.”

  “Afraid how?”

  “That maybe he wouldn’t think I was very good. I know he’s had a lot of women in his past. I was hoping once we were married, it wouldn’t matter. Turned out though…”

  “Turned out what, Julie?”

  More tears slipped down her cheek. “That it did matter. That I did care about the other women.”

  “So there wasn’t any part of Tony’s behavior that didn’t seem right to you—a violent side perhaps?”

  Julie seemed to ponder the que
stion. “If you mean did he get angry, I guess the answer would be ‘yes.’ But I don’t think his temper was any worse than mine or anyone else’s really. I mean, he never hit me or anything like that.”

  LeAnne rubbed her jaw where Chad had struck her. She couldn’t help being reminded of how her father had abused her, and now her fiancé.

  “What about anyone else? Did he ever hurt anyone else you are aware of?”

  “There was this once…” She took in a gulp of air and wiped her hand beneath her nose. “Just this once he got really mad at Ruth…their maid. I was waiting for him in the family room. He had gone to the basement to retrieve something. When he didn’t come right back, I walked into the kitchen…” Julie paused again, trying to control her trembling voice before continuing. “I guess Ruth had gone downstairs to clean up. I swear I never saw Tony’s temper like that. It’s a miracle she stayed on. If it wasn’t for the love she had for the judge…”

  LeAnne sat on the edge of her seat. “Like what, Julie? What did he do?”

  “Tony…he had pinned poor Ruth to the kitchen counter by her neck.” Julie let out a small hiccup of contained sobs. “He told her if she ever went snooping through his things again… Oh, God.” She covered her mouth with a trembling hand.

  “He’d what?”

  “He said he’d kill her.”

  Chapter 27

  The bright, colored balls clacked and echoed in the smoke-filled room as the cue ball struck those freshly racked. Aside from the two large men playing pool, only the bartender lent his presence to the establishment. Ignoring the two men with billiard sticks, he went about his business, washing and polishing glasses for the day’s other patrons. Blade tipped a long-neck beer to his lips and took a pull from the bottle, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his thick throat. Snake leaned over the billiard table and lightly tapped the cue ball into a striped ball, easily sinking it. He studied the next shot with a practiced eye as Blade wiped the foam gathering on his bushy mustache with the back of his hand.

  “Eleven—corner pocket,” Snake stated, then smoothly sank another ball.

  “You hear the latest, man?” Blade asked as Snake made his way about the table.

  Snake glanced up briefly, then tapped his stick on the side pocket. “Ten,” he said, waiting for Blade to enlighten him. He knew Blade would oblige, always being somewhat of a gossip. The ball banked off the right of the hole, stopping in the middle of the table.

  Blade set his beer on the corner and eyed his own shot. “Seems there’s a warrant out for Tony Hargrove’s arrest.”

  Snake’s interest piqued, though he cared little about Hargrove. But if his arrest had anything to do with Jillian…

  “Four—corner pocket,” Blade called, striking the ball. It missed by a long shot as he let out a belch before grasping his bottle and taking another swig.

  Snake called his shot, then glanced up at Blade from his bent over position. “Well? What the hell you waiting on? Christmas?”

  Blade ignored the sarcasm as he laid a forearm over his stick.

  “Word is, they think he’s the one who’s been doin’ all the ladies: Jillian, Miranda, Samantha. Maybe even that Cora chick. All I can say is, I’m glad Tony took the heat off me.”

  Snake straightened after sinking his shot and glared at Blade. “They suspected you for killing my wife?”

  Blade guffawed. “Imagine that. The sons-of-bitches even hauled my hide to the station for an interview.”

  Marcus held Blade’s gaze, unflinching. “You do it?”

  Blade’s complexion reddened in the dim interior. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that, man!”

  “Did you?”

  Blade grumbled something unintelligible, his irises darkening to near the color of his pupils. “Did you?” he snapped back.

  Snake went back to indifference as he shot yet another ball in the hole. “What do you think?”

  “A minute ago I would have sworn to your innocence. But now, you asking me—well, hell, it’s only natural I’d ask you the same thing. You think Tony might have?”

  “I never thought about it.”

  “Was he sleepin’ with Jillian?”

  Again, Snake stood and looked Blade square in the eye. “Was he?”

  “Hell, Snake—you keep answering my questions with one of your own. How the hell would I know?”

  “You seem to know a lot about this town.” Snake bent over the table, but missed his shot.

  Blade aimed his ball and called his shot, then came up short of his mark. “I listen, is all. Shoot, man, with a town this small, all you have to do is keep your ears and eyes open. Know what I mean?”

  Snake grinned out of one corner of his mouth, raising one brow.

  “Did Tony ball my wife?”

  Blade shrugged. “Shoot, man, I hear he’s the one who made the 911 call from your house that night.”

  Snake flinched. “Tony called the cops from my phone?”

  “Yep.”

  Marcus nodded slowly, digesting the newly-acquired information.

  He rubbed his jaw with the tips of his fingers. “So, little Tony was banging my wife.” It was a statement, not a question. “Christ, how many more were there?”

  Though his ire should have hit the bar’s high ceiling, Snake felt reasonably controlled. Maybe he hadn’t loved his wife as much as he thought. And he would bet LeAnne McVeigh had something to do with it.

  “Hell, if I were you,” Blade said as he watched Snake bend over the table and eye the eight ball, “I’d be spitting mad and going after the little prick with a vengeance.”

  Snake sank the ball and won the game, then leaned on his stick to look at Blade, his heart not even thudding in his chest. “Nothing my wife did surprises me.”

  Blade blinked a few times, then grinned. “You’re messin’ with me, right?”

  Snake laid his stick on the table and walked to the bar where Smoke, the bartender, placed another draft and long-neck. Blade meandered over and sat heavily on the stool beside him, accepting the long-neck Snake had paid for.

  “What happened to the bravado, man? Lookin’ for your wife’s killer and all.”

  Snake turned on his stool to look at Blade. An unlit cigarette dangled from the beefy man’s lips. “Don’t get me wrong, I want him caught. I just don’t give two hoots who was screwing her anymore. If I tried hard enough, I’d probably find a lot more she did while we were married.”

  “You didn’t deserve her, man.”

  “No, I didn’t. But then again, what kind of woman would want the likes of me?” he asked, thinking of LeAnne again. Did he have any more to offer her today than he had last night after making love to her? The answer stared him in the face. A big, resounding no. She didn’t deserve the likes of him, no more than he had deserved Jillian. Maybe she was better off with Chad Baker, after all.

  His stomach churned.

  “What’s the matter,” Blade asked, obviously detecting his sudden self-pity.

  “Nothing,” Snake assured. “Didn’t you say you were hauled in for questioning?”

  “Yep.”

  “What did they ask you?”

  “That bitch, Detective McVeigh”—Snake flinched at Blade’s obvious lack of respect for LeAnne and Snake’s sudden-found protectiveness of her—“and that prick chief deputy questioned my hate for your loose wife.”

  The heat finally rose like a lit fuse winding its way toward a stick of dynamite. Whether it was for Blade’s reference to LeAnne as being a bitch or his wife being loose, Snake refused to examine. He certainly wasn’t any more ready to admit he had feelings for the detective than before.

  “You did hate her.”

  Blade released a harrumph. “Like no other.”

  “And why was that, Blade? She was my wife. You’d think I would have hated her more than you.”

  Blade shifted on his stool, fidgeting with a bar napkin. “I didn’t like the way she treated you. You’re my brother, man. I’d feel that way toward anyo
ne who stabbed you in the back.”

  Snake pushed the limits of friendship by asking, “You make a hit on my wife, Blade? And she what, turned you down?”

  Blade’s complexion turned fire red, but he refused to look at Snake. “You hit on my wife, Blade?”

  The man gnawed on his lower lip, hidden by the growth of bushy whiskers. “I was drunk, man.”

  Snake slowly nodded, not saying a word.

  Blade turned in his stool. “I’m sorry, man. I know being drunk was no excuse. There is none.”

  “You’re right about one thing, Blade, there is no excuse for making a play on my wife. But I, of all people,” he said, thinking of Debra Lewis, “ought to know how people make mistakes. So, you’re forgiven.”

  Blade’s eyes almost appeared misty. “Just like that? How can you be so noble? If it were me—”

  “It wasn’t. Besides, let sleeping dogs lie. It’s not like you did sleep with her. At least Jillian had a little taste.”

  Blade chuckled, even though Snake’s comment was intended as a slam. “Thanks, man.” He patted Snake on the shoulder. “You’re a true friend.”

  “Don’t start handing out the medals yet, hombre,” Snake said, standing. “I’ll only let it slip once. You touch what I consider mine again, I won’t be so amicable.”

  “You got someone in mind?”

  “You’re the man with all the answers—you tell me.”

  “Word has it you been sniffing around that detective’s heels. Is it true?”

  “She has a fiancé.”

  “You’d let that stop you?”

  Snake pondered the thought. “If I want something bad enough, all the prosecutors in Henry County won’t stop me from taking it.”

  Snake couldn’t help thinking about how he had taken LeAnne to Jillian’s grave, meaning to show her the spray-painted marker. But when she stormed away after his callous insult, he had charged after her with the desperation of a starving man. He caught her, jerked her into his arms and kissed her, changing his life forever.

  He had become an addict. One taste of her sweet lips, and he had to have more, one never being enough. Until the day he had made love to her in his barn. From that moment, he had forever lost his soul. From that moment, he had never stopped thinking about her, never stopped wanting her, and never stopped loving her.