Goodbye to the Dead (Jonathan Stride Book 7)

by Brian Freeman

Guppo did, but he didn’t let her go. Al bounded up the steps before Stride could stop him and put his arms around his mother. She kept screaming. Police officers ran from different parts of the neighborhood. Finally, Stride shouted, raising his voice above the chaos, and everyone stopped in place.

  It was silent. Al’s mother panted. Her face was furious. Her raspy voice dissolved in a coughing fit.

  ‘Listen,’ Al said, sounding calmer and older now, like a boy who wanted to protect his mother. ‘I don’t know what Cat told you guys, but you are on the wrong track. I swear. I don’t know anything about this ring she has, and I sure as hell don’t know anything about a gun.’

  Maggie stared at Al’s mother. She was young, but she looked old. The woman wiped spittle from her lips and stared back at Maggie.

  ‘You know about the gun,’ Maggie said to her quietly. ‘Don’t you, Mrs. Pugh?’

  Al started to interrupt, but then he saw his mother’s face, and he let her speak. She stood up straight and smoothed the housedress she was wearing. She was tall, like Al. The boy couldn’t hide his confusion. This was all new to him, but it wasn’t new to his mother.

  She knew exactly what was going on.

  ‘Yes,’ she told Maggie. ‘Okay, yes, I do. I know all about that gun.’

  *

  They sat inside. One of Mrs. Pugh’s daughters made tea. The search of the house was over, but it had revealed nothing of importance in either murder investigation. There was no ­hidey-hole in the house or grounds in which the kidnapped women had been kept. Erin Tierney wasn’t here. She never had been. There was no jewelry from nine years earlier.

  Everyone stared at Al’s mother, waiting for her story. There was an oversized photograph of Seymour Pugh with his family in a frame that leaned against a freshly painted wall. Maggie recognized the man from her visit years before. He still had the same smile, but life had corroded him at a fast pace. She wasn’t surprised to learn that he’d died of a stroke three years after she met him.

  Mrs. Pugh stared at the photograph, too, and Maggie saw pride in the fierce little smile she gave Seymour. This was a woman who loved her husband, no matter what he’d done.

  ‘What you’re thinking is what it is,’ Mrs. Pugh finally told them. ‘It was Seymour who did it. He shot that man. Took the jewelry. Guess it doesn’t matter now, although I didn’t want Al and the girls finding out about their daddy. Seymour’s long gone, God rest him. I know Jesus forgives him. Jesus understands what he did.’

  Mrs. Pugh was silent. She wiped her eyes.

  ‘The gun?’ Stride asked. ‘Where did he get it?’

  ‘He bought it on one of his road trips. Never told me about it. I would have made him get rid of it.’

  She sat primly with her knees pressed together. Her fleshy body would have been toned once, and her worn-out face with its tumbling black hair would have been pretty. Maggie could imagine her and Seymour, hooking up, having kids, bumping into the struggles of life. It wasn’t easy then, and it wasn’t easy now. Her chest wheezed. She sucked in the air around her but never seemed to get enough.

  ‘Did you know what he was planning to do?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘No, no, ’course I didn’t. He wouldn’t dare tell me. He knew I’d kick his ass if I heard about it.’

  ‘Then why did he do it?’

  Mrs. Pugh gave them a rattling sigh and stared at her lap. ‘For his family, what else? For me, for Al, for the girls.’

  ‘You needed money?’

  ‘Sure we did. A man does what a man’s gotta do when it’s his family. Jesus understands.’

  ‘When did you find out?’ Stride asked.

  Her shoulders gave a little shrug. ‘Don’t remember. Few weeks later, I guess. Some cop came by the house, asking questions. Seymour said it was nothing to worry about, but I knew he was lying. That night, after the kids were in bed, I got it out of him. He told me what he’d done. Showed me the gun. The jewelry. He was too scared to unload any of it. I told him to bury it all somewhere. Get it out of the house. Throw it in the lake. Whatever. I didn’t want it here. I thought he got rid of everything, but I was wrong. He kept it. After Seymour died, I was going through his stuff in the attic, and I found a shoebox hidden in the rafters. There was the gun. The jewels he’d stolen. I tell you, I swore a blue streak at that man!’

  Serena leaned forward. ‘What did you do with the box?’

  ‘I shoved it up on a shelf in my bedroom closet. I didn’t feel safe getting rid of it myself, and it’s not like I was going to tell you people what I found. Figured you’d lock me up if I did.’

  ‘What happened to the gun and the jewelry?’ Stride asked.

  ‘Far as I know anything, it’s still in the box.’

  ‘It’s not. We found the box. It’s empty.’ Stride’s head swiveled to her son. ‘Al, if you know anything about that box – about what was in it—’

  The young man shook his head. ‘I don’t know a thing. I never saw it. I never even knew it was there.’

  Maggie saw Stride and Serena exchange a sober glance, and she knew what that look meant. Cat. If it wasn’t Al, it was Cat. Cat found the box. Cat found the ring. And along with the ring was the gun that murdered Jay Ferris and Kelly Hauswirth.

  ‘When was Cat here painting the house?’ Stride asked, with a frown that looked as if his world were ending.

  ‘Sometime in May,’ Al said.

  ‘Did Cat paint your bedroom while she was here, Mrs. Pugh?’ Serena asked the woman in a soft voice. ‘Could she have gone in your closet and found the box on the shelf?’

  Al’s mother scratched her chin and thought about it. Then she said: ‘No, the pretty young one was painting downstairs. Sweet girl. I liked her laugh. It was the other girl that did the bedrooms upstairs. The pasty one with the Halloween hair. She was a little creepy, I have to say.’

  ‘The other one?’ Serena asked.

  ‘Anna,’ Al interjected quickly. ‘The waitress at the bar. Anna Glick.’

  54

  Cat pounded on Anna’s door and waited impatiently for her friend to answer. The quiet neighborhood in Morgan Park where Anna lived was deserted. No cars. No kids playing. Black clouds blew across the afternoon sky, and high winds made the mature trees sway and talk. Drizzle spat on the ground.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ Cat murmured.

  She was afraid that Anna wasn’t home, but finally, she heard the click of the latch and saw her friend peering out at her from inside. Anna didn’t open the door immediately, and when she did, she only opened it a few inches.

  ‘Cat,’ Anna said. ‘What’s going on? Why are you here?’

  Cat shoved the door open and pushed past Anna into the small house, which smelled of cigarette smoke and the must of old furniture. Anna wore a cotton robe that barely covered her hips. It was tied loosely, and her bare skin made a narrow V from her small breasts to the knob of her belly button. Her spiky orange hair was mussed, as if she’d just gotten out of bed.

  ‘They know!’ Cat told her. She paced back and forth on the worn shag carpet and chewed her fingernails. ‘I knew this would happen. I knew they’d find out. I’m so stupid!’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Stride and Serena know about the jewelry you found at Al’s house. I sold the ring you gave me, and they traced it back to me through Curt. I’m such an idiot. I told you, I hate these scams!’

  ‘You didn’t mind them when you were raking in extra cash,’ Anna pointed out. She grabbed a half-empty pack of cigarettes from a coffee table and lit one. ‘I told you, church projects are the perfect cover. You paint people’s houses and see what shit they keep hidden away. Most of the time, they don’t notice that anything is gone until months later. If they even notice at all.’

  Cat shook her head. She was sick with guilt. She liked the money she’d made with Anna – alm
ost five hundred dollars in just a few months. Even so, she’d known from the beginning that the stealing would crash down on her head sooner or later. She wished she’d never agreed to be a part of it.

  ‘We need to come clean with the cops,’ Cat said.

  Anna laughed at her and blew out smoke. ‘Yeah, right. That’s not going to happen. What exactly did you tell them?’

  ‘I told them I took the ring from Al’s house. I sold it.’

  ‘Did you mention me?’

  ‘No!’ Cat said. ‘I didn’t. I would never rat you out, but you know they’re going to figure out you were there, too. And they asked me about a gun! Did you find a gun at the house? They said it was the same gun that was used when that woman got murdered at the Grizzly Bear.’

  Anna stared at her. She didn’t even look like Anna anymore. ‘I really wish you’d kept your mouth shut, Cat.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but what else could I do?’

  ‘What are the cops doing right now?’ Anna asked. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Searching Al’s place. They got a warrant this morning.’

  Anna’s face turned sour, and she talked softly, as if to herself. ‘It won’t take them long to make the connection to me. They’ll be coming here.’ Then she announced loudly: ‘Bernd, come on out, we have to go. We’ve got trouble.’

  Cat heard the floorboards in the old house shift. In the doorway that led to the bedrooms, she saw a man. A stranger. He wore only briefs and made no effort to cover himself. His skin bore fresh nail marks on his chest. Anna’s. He was handsome, with a taut muscular body, but he conveyed menace like no one Cat had ever seen. His ivory-pale, freckled face was devoid of expression, and his blue-gray eyes watched her with the coiled-up ferocity of a tiger.

  ‘Who is . . .’ Cat began, her voice cracking.

  ‘This is my boyfriend. Bernd, we’ve got a problem.’

  ‘Another problem?’ the man said, spitting the words at her. ‘What did you do this time?’

  Cat watched Anna fold like a flower. She’d never seen her friend intimidated by a man. ‘It’s not my fault, but the cops are coming. We’d better get out of here right now. Both of us. Permanently.’

  Bernd marched closer to them. Cat felt nauseated by fright. She spotted men’s clothes in a pile on the floor, and Bernd squatted and dug in the pockets. Cat began to back toward the door, but Anna darted behind her and threw an arm around her head, burying her neck in the crook of her elbow. Cat couldn’t move and couldn’t breathe. Bernd stood up, and he had a gun in his hand, which he pointed at Cat’s head.

  Cat whimpered and tried to speak, but she couldn’t.

  ‘On your knees,’ Anna told her roughly.

  Cat sank to the floor. Her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach. Her chestnut hair spilled across her face, and sweat beaded on her forehead. She kept staring at the gun.

  ‘Tie her hands,’ Bernd said, snapping his fingers at Anna. ‘Quickly. Leave her ankles free for now. She’s going to have to go with us. Where’s the other girl?’

  ‘In my storage unit across the street.’

  Bernd waited in stony silence while Anna ran to the kitchen and returned with a roll of duct tape. Anna bound Cat’s wrists tightly with tape, which was sticky and rough on her skin.

  ‘I warned you,’ Bernd snapped at Anna. ‘You put the whole operation at risk with your stupidity. I told you not to freelance.’

  Anna flinched. ‘Look, I’m sorry, okay? Your people pay good money, but it’s not enough to live on. I found you the other girls—’

  Bernd made a slashing motion across his throat. Anna stopped talking. The man stepped into his jeans from the floor. As he zipped himself, he squatted in front of Cat and held her chin between his fingers, pinching so tightly that she grimaced in pain. He shoved her face left and right, and then he put his hand on her stomach, and she tried to squirm away.

  ‘We’ll use this one as a bonus,’ Bernd said. ‘She’s pretty. Pregnant is a plus. Some buyers like that. And the baby will be worth something, too.’

  ‘You leave my baby alone, you bastard!’ Cat screamed into his face.

  Bernd slapped her hard, leaving a welt and choking off the words in her throat. ‘She’s spirited, too. That’s good. They like the ones who fight. Maybe she’ll make up for the one you lost us.’

  ‘You shot the other girl!’ Anna barked. ‘If you’d kept control of Kelly, there never would have been a problem. I texted you about the cop in the bar. You needed to get her out of there, and instead, we wound up with a mess on our hands.’

  ‘The mess started with the gun you gave me,’ Bernd replied. He reached out and grabbed Anna’s neck with his hand, pinching his fingers shut like a vise until she began to twitch, unable to breathe. When he finally let go, she jerked away, coughing and crying.

  ‘Fucker!’ she moaned.

  For the first time, Bernd laughed.

  ‘Anna, why are you doing this to me?’ Cat asked her. ‘What is this about?’

  Anna rubbed her neck and looked furious at her humiliation. ‘Jesus, why are girls like you so naive? You’re going to take a trip, Cat. All the way to a desert kingdom. Don’t worry, you won’t be alone. Erin will keep you company.’

  Erin.

  Cat knew that name. Serena had mentioned that name. Stride had shown her Erin’s photograph.

  ‘That’s the girl who’s missing. Serena said that she had an online boyfriend who kidnapped her—’

  ‘Boyfriend?’ Anna retorted. ‘I’m her boyfriend.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Yeah, me. All these girls are so perfectly clueless. Do you know how many pathetic single women have told me they loved me? How they’ve been searching their whole lives for a man like me? They’ll swallow anything I tell them.’

  ‘Enough!’ Bernd snapped. ‘We don’t have time for this. Gag her. I’ll make sure the street is empty. We’ll put her in the truck and get the other girl, and we’ll head for the boat.’

  The man shoved the gun into his belt and marched out of the house. Cat and Anna were alone. Anna unrolled another stretch of duct tape and cut it with her teeth. The tape dangled from her fingers. She grabbed a dirty sock from the floor and wadded it up in a ball in her fist.

  ‘Open up,’ she said to Cat.

  ‘How can you do this to me?’

  ‘Open your mouth.’

  ‘I’m your friend.’

  Anna pinched Cat’s jaw until her mouth opened and shoved the sock deep inside, making her choke. Then she slapped the tape across Cat’s lips and dragged the girl roughly to her feet. She pushed Cat toward the back door.

  ‘Time to go.’

  55

  Two and a half hours between Shakopee and Duluth marked the difference between Janine’s old world and her new world.

  Archie was at the prison to give a statement to the media and handle the paperwork for her release. He arranged for her departure in an unmarked van from the loading dock. They drove past the unsuspecting reporters and made their way to the parking lot of a nearby Best Western hotel, where he had new clothes waiting for her and a room in which she could change. She showered and put on a blouse with three-quarter sleeves and a vibrant red-and-gray print. She left it untucked over tapered black dress slacks and heels. She wadded up the clothes she’d worn out of Shakopee and put them in a plastic garbage basket, where they could be burned for all she cared.

  Archie waited outside with a town car and driver. He had champagne opened and a tray of hors d’oeuvres. She emerged from the hotel, wearing sunglasses, and got in the back seat of the car with him. They headed north to Duluth, but they didn’t speak for miles. She wanted to savor the silence, which he seemed to understand.

  Somewhere near Forest Lake, on the northern edge of the Twin Cities, Archie got a text on his phone. He eased back in the leather seat, champagne i
n hand, and studied her over the half-rims of his glasses. His curly gray hair nearly grazed the roof of the car.

  ‘My police sources tell me they’re executing a search warrant on a house in Superior,’ he said. ‘It has something to do with the gun and jewelry that were found.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ Janine watched the wilderness passing on the freeway. The lakes. The pines and birch trees. ‘Does that matter to us?’

  ‘Not really. I told you that you’re likely safe in any event. However, if they find the person who really pulled the trigger, it removes any final legal issues hanging over your head. A complete exoneration may be useful in whatever you choose to do next.’

  ‘Ah,’ she said mildly.

  ‘Do you know what you plan to do next?’ he asked her.

  ‘Well, being free doesn’t make me a surgeon again. Not to be crass, but the medical board never really cared whether I murdered my husband. They only cared that I was popping pain pills while operating.’

  ‘But you’re clean now.’

  ‘I am, but I’m almost nine years out of touch with my field.’

  ‘You can catch up.’

  ‘No offense, Archie, but right now, I just want to find a way to make it through today.’

  He smiled at her the way a grandfather would. ‘Yes, of course. My apologies.’

  They didn’t speak for the rest of the journey. One hundred and fifty miles took her back to Duluth. It made her sad to drive into the heart of the city, because she could see her estate on the hillside from the freeway. The house she’d designed. The house that was supposed to be her lifelong sanctuary. It belonged to someone else now. She’d been forced to sell it years ago to settle the malpractice case against her. It would never be hers again. Not that she wanted it now.

  The town car took her to the hotel and shopping complex called Fitger’s. That would be her home while she assessed her future. Archie had arranged a press conference at his office the following day, but she needed at least one day and night of priv­acy. Anonymity. He’d already checked her into the August Fitger suite on the hotel’s top floor, with a king bed, whirlpool tub, and a view toward the vastness of the lake, and he’d stocked the room with clothes and toiletries. When they arrived, he handed her an old-fashioned key.