by Lucia Sinn
Gail heard a loud scream coming from her own throat. A thin stream of watery vomit erupted from her throat and ran across the tile floor. She shouted. “why did you let Eric do this? You knew he was a loser, a mental case. Why didn’t you send some of the men from the ranch?”
“They insisted it had to be that way. We sent all the support we could. It wasn’t Eric’s fault Gail. He did his best and he feels terrible about it. He’s had a total breakdown.”
“Oh, God.” Gail took the phone and hurled it across the kitchen, barely missing Tony’s head.
“Doug’s been killed down in Texas,” she yelled. “You said he was in Evansville, and you were going to pick him up there.”
Tony shuddered and gripped the kitchen counter as if he, too, were going to collapse. He had turned a peculiar shade of green under his stubble of beard. “I didn’t lie,” he said. “Someone did call me. When I got to Evansville, the guy promised he would let me talk to Doug before we made the trade. I got the money, but he never called back.”
“So, you’re saying the kidnappers were trying to collect from two different people—you and the Kruegers both?”
Tony’s face glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. “That must have been it,” he said, his voice barely audible. “They figured if the deal with the Kruegers fell through, they’d have me as a back up.”
“No,” Gail said. “You’re lying.” She pounded on his shoulders and hit him in the face shouting. “Liar, liar, liar.”
Tony picked up the phone from the floor. “I’m going to call Dr. Rozgonyi,” he said. “You’re falling apart. You need another sedative.”
Gail pulled a steak knife from a rack on the counter and pointed the tip at Tony’s throat. “If that woman ever comes near me again, I’ll kill her. Now, put down that phone.”
* * *
Gail could no longer bear the sight of Tony. He still insisted he’d been trying to ransom Doug but she didn’t believe him.
Everyone said she shouldn’t fly back for Doug’s funeral alone but there weren’t a lot of choices. Gail had made some tennis friends, but no one close enough to pull that kind of duty. Her brother had a drinking problem, and her parents were in poor health. Janie suggested Dr. Rozgonyi, but Tony quickly vetoed that idea. That left Janie.
Gail got out of that one by saying she didn’t want Tony to be alone without family support, with Angie missing and his mother in the hospital. When the Kruegers suggested sending a private jet to the Lewiston airport, she quickly accepted their offer.
“At least let me drive you out there,” Janie said. Gail perceived their relationship had undergone a subtle change. Nothing like a slap in the face to put things on equal footing. Clearly, Janie had a new respect for the person she’d dismissed as a drunk and a lightweight.
Gail decided to take her up on it. The surprise came at 4 p.m., just as they prepared to leave.
The doorbell rang.
The three of them looked at each other, mute and motionless. Gail was fairly sure it wasn’t someone selling Girl Scout cookies. Tony and Janie seemed paralyzed. It was Gail who walked to the door and saw McAuliffe standing at the entry.
“Mrs. Cabella,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear of your loss.”
“Thank you.” Gail studied his expressionless face, wondering what this was leading up to.
“I understand you’re leaving for Houston,” he said.
How did he know? “Yes,” she said. “We’re just leaving for the airport.”
“I’d like to speak with you before you go,” he said. “Would that be possible?”
Gail turned to look at Gail and Tony, both of whom appeared to have lockjaw.
“In private?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Please come in. It will take me a minute to gather my things.” She looked at Janie. “You won’t need to take me to the airport. I believe Sergeant McAuliffe wants to give me a ride.”
Tony snapped to attention . “No, Janie wants to take you. You can talk to him right here.”
Tony’s opposition only strengthened Gail’s determination. She wouldn’t be bullied into lying to the police, ever again. And what a relief not to be confined to the small space of an automobile with Janie. “No, this works out great,” she said. “You need Janie here.”
Gail had packed two large suitcases, with the idea that she would not be coming back. McAuliffe picked up one of them and Tony the other. Tony’s breathing was labored while proceeding to the car, his face red with exertion. Gail had never seen him struggle with a suitcase before. Something had obviously sapped his strength.
Gail and McAuliffe drove for about a mile on a long curving road bordered with brilliantly colored trees and scarlet bushes. McAuliffe opened the windows, letting in the tangy smell of autumn. October in the Midwest was something Gail thought she might miss, but right now the beauty seemed a cruel mockery of her grief. Nature didn’t care if your son had been murdered. It just went on shining and sparkling and glowing with life.
As if sensing her somber thoughts, McAuliffe said nothing at all until they reached the state highway. The airport was only a few miles away, and they were nearly at the entrance before he spoke.
“About your husband,” he said. “Did he ever tell you anything more about where he was for the past few days?”
Gail shook her head, only causing the dull ache at her temples to start throbbing again. “ I guess you know I lied to you. Tony told me to keep the police out of it--that Doug would be killed if they got involved. He claims he went to Evansville to get ransom money and that the kidnappers had agreed to a deal to rescue Doug. He told me he waited and waited but they never called.”
“How did he get to Evansville? Did he drive?”
“Well, of course. He took the Lexus.”
“Are you sure he didn’t fly?”
“He could have taken the Cessna. It’s possible.”
McAuliffe slowed down from fifty to about forty, apparently in no hurry to arrive at their destination. “Actually, he did take the Cessna. He left the airport Sunday afternoon around three o’clock.”
“You know? You've checked?” Gail wondered what difference it made how Tony got to Evansville
“As you probably know, the airport officials keep a log. Your husband had a time slot reserved for Sunday afternoon. And you’re right, he said he was going to Evansville.”
Gail felt her face muscles relax. Tony wasn’t as bad as she thought. He hadn’t lied about his destination. “Do you think it’s possible that kidnappers would try to collect ransom from both a father and a stepfather? Have you ever heard of anything like that happening?”
“Well no, I haven’t. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. But the problem is, your husband never arrived in Evansville. He called to say he had changed his mind-- that he was flying down to Biloxi. Funny thing is, he never arrived at either place. Or if he did, he landed in a field. Is he a good pilot?”
“I suppose so. He’s quite experienced. He used to fly down to South Padre Island to see me.”
“When was that?”
Gail inhaled deeply before answering. “A little over a year ago, while I was still married to Eric Krueger.” She glanced sideways at McAuliffe, looking for a frown of disapproval, but he showed no emotion.
“How long did that go on?” he asked.
“Oh, about three months. Tony didn’t like it. He insisted I get a divorce as soon as possible.”
“But he did spend a lot of time down there? Got to know the area pretty well?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you suppose he thought about going to Biloxi?”
“I don’t know. It used to be one of his favorite hangouts…so many casinos. But Katrina spoiled all that.”
McAuliffe cleared his throat. “Let’s go back to the Cessna. Did he ever take it to Vegas?”
“Oh sure, several times. I’d spend the day beside the pool or shopping, then we’d see a show at night.”
&nb
sp; “You didn’t care for the casinos?”
“No. The noise, the crowds--it’s not my style. And I don’t get much of thrill watching my money disappear into the hands of some sleazy card dealer or a one armed bandit. I have my addictions, but that isn’t one of them.”
“So, you went your separate ways when you were there.”
“You might say that. But it was no different back here in Lewiston. I played tennis, he played golf. He liked poker and I was learning bridge. He was out of town a lot, supposedly on business.” Gail felt that if she had the time, she could have told McAuliffe every bad thing about her marriage.
McAuliffe shot her a penetrating look. “So, your second marriage wasn’t much more successful than your first.”
Unwanted tears spilled out and stuck to Gail’s cheeks. What kind of loser was she, always picking bad husbands?
McAuliffe pulled a tissue from a box on the seat between them and handed it to her. They had arrived at the airport and he turned into the small, parking lot. Out on the tarmac, the white Gulfstream jet owned by the Krueger Corporation waited for her in all its splendid, opulent glory. “Did you think your husband might have recently run up some heavy gambling losses?” he asked.
“His sister said she thought he had. But he never told me. In fact, he used to brag about always coming out ahead.”
“That’s amazing. Most gamblers have bad nights.” McAuliffe found a parking space near the entrance and killed the engine. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a few seconds, but made no move to get out. The car vibrated gently as they waited for the thunder of a low flying jet to pass.
Gail rushed to fill the silence. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
McAuliffe slowly turned his head and fixed his eyes on her. “Did you know that this Tim who kidnapped Doug was the night janitor at the Cabella insurance agency? His mother was very proud that he had finally found a job he managed to keep.”
Gail’s skin prickled with alarm as her mind moved forward to consider the meaning of what McAuliffe was trying to say. “A lot of times, it’s a workman who kidnaps an employer’s child, isn’t it?”
“Yes, because they know the layout of the home. But Doug wasn’t kidnapped from your house. By the way, where did Tony stay while he was in Evansville?”
“I don’t know. We never got around to talking about that.”
“Well, that will help a lot, of course. If he can prove his whereabouts while he was gone. But it would help our investigation if we could get in your house and look for some type of evidence.”
Gail’s head filled with internal noise. None of this seemed possible. “But what about the attempt to drown Cara? Tony still had feelings for her, I could see it in his face whenever her name came up. He would never have wanted her to die.”
“It may not have been planned. Who would have expected her to spot Tim and Doug in the south end of town and follow them out to Cataract Lake?”
“Are you telling me that you think Tony was involved with my son’s kidnapping?” Gail’s chest filled with rage, suffusing her body with a tumultuous heat. She thought of the look on Tony’s face when she’d pointed the knife at his neck. “I should have killed him when I had the chance,” she said.
“That would have been premature,” McAuliffe said. “We don’t know if Tony had anything to do with the kidnapping. But right now, his actions are very suspicious. For your sake, I hope we’re wrong. But you can help by providing us with a key to your house and giving me permission to enter. If we work fast, we might find some clue that will help us find out what Tony has been doing.”
“But Tony is there. He’ll see you.”
“We can find a way to get him down to the police station. By the way, do you have any thoughts about what might have happened to Angie?”
Gail opened her purse and rummaged around until she found her key ring. “Not really. Mrs. Cabella had hired a body guard to watch her. She was afraid Doug’s kidnapping would put Angie in danger, too. I guess she was right.”
“I really appreciate this,” he said. “And if nothing comes of it, your husband will never know.”
“Just do me one favor,” Gail said.
McAuliffe cocked an eyebrow. “If I can.”
Gail clenched and unclenched her hands. “There are some photographs of me in his file cabinet. In fact, there are several. We used to fool around with the digital camera up in the dunes on South Padre. They’re not exactly something you’d want posted on the internet. I’d like them back.”
“But wouldn’t they be stored in his computer?”
“I don’t think so. His computer crashed last week, and he threw it in the trash.”
“How old was the computer?”
“I don’t know. He bought it after we were married.”
“So, it was still under warranty, probably.”
“I suppose. What difference does it make?”
“Just that he’s eliminated any information we might hope to find on his hard drive. People he’s e mailed. Websites he’s visited. If he disposed of the computer, we may not find anything particularly useful in his files. Still, it’s worth a try.”
Gail slipped the house key off her key ring and handed it to McAuliffe. “Just get the pictures,” she said. “I’ll send you my address as soon as I’m settled.”
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
SERGEANT MC AULIFFE
MC AULIFFE’S PLAN WAS to find as many clues as possible before zeroing in on Tony Cabella. He’d gotten him out of the house by scheduling a meeting with another detective down at the police station, ostensibly to discuss Angie’s disappearance.
That gave him a good hour, at least, to go through the house.
The door to Tony’s wood paneled home office was closed, and when McAuliffe entered, he was struck by the luxurious fragrances that filled the room: expensive cologne, wool carpeting, and leather furniture. A large custom made work area formed an L around two sides of the wall, with a computer, and several file drawers beneath.
Tony was a neat man. His files in the top drawer were orderly, and arranged according to subject matter--bank statements, investments, tax returns.
There wasn’t much time, and McAuliffe was fairly certain that the new Dell computer would not contain any useful information. The most he could hope for was some clue to Tony’s whereabouts for the past few weeks in all of this paperwork.
But first, he had to keep his promise to Gail Cabella. Where would a man keep naked pictures of his wife? The second drawer was locked, but McAuliffe was handy with a nail file and soon had it open. The drawer contained several small photo albums with pictures of numerous women wearing crotchless panties, garter belts, and other provocative lingerie, or nothing at all. Did Gail know she was not the only model who had posed for him in the buff?
A dark haired woman with voluptuous breasts and a curvy butt posed in the bedroom, the kitchen, the living room, and the dining room of this very house. Doe eyed and exotic, she appeared to be either Italian or of some Mediterranean heritage. Probably the first wife--the one who had been killed in the hit and run. She looked young, so perhaps they had been taken when she and Tony were newlyweds. She wore the same short, spiky hairstyle in all the photographs. McAuliffe had observed that rich young woman changed their hairstyles often. So what did this mean? That they had all been taken in a short time frame? That what had started out as a hot relationship quickly cooled off?
Gail’s pictures were a startling contrast. It hardly seemed possible one man could have such dissimilar taste in wives. With silky blonde hair, Gail reminded him of the pictures he’d seen of John Kennedy, Jr.’s ill fated young wife. Tall and slim with a small rump and long, shapely legs, Gail appeared uncomfortable posing in the nude. She used her right hand to shade her eyes, and turned her head to the side, so that she was never looking directly into the camera. But what a spectacular background: a foamy turquoise sea, sand dunes, and azure sky dotted with white cloud
s.
The pictures of other women seemed to have been taken in various hotel rooms. These were far more sexually explicit.
Okay. So the guy was into pornography. It wasn’t a crime and it didn’t make him a murderer. McAuliffe took only the pictures of Gail and left the others in the drawer. If Tony ever got around to looking for them and found they were gone, he would probably assume Gail had taken them.
Next, McAuliffe went back to the bank statements, filed away with investment reports from various brokerage houses and banks. Tony had several accounts, with large withdrawals every so often, but he was probably a man who paid cash for things like cars and airplanes. McAuliffe didn’t see much here except that Tony’s income was about ten times as much as his own. Gripped by a pang of envy, McAuliffe reminded himself that he wasn’t in this job for the money. One of these days, if he ever married and had a family, he would need to find a way to increase his income. But for now, he was satisfied with his own humble life and had no desire to be a high roller.
A closer look at Tony’s bank statements showed his income and outgo often skated along a thin fine edge. Occasionally, there were charges for overdrafts. Again, not incriminating.
On to the bottom drawer, which contained Tony’s household bills. The landline and cellular phone bills seemed average. McAullife also found several prepaid cell phones behind the files. Nothing illegal about that, but why would a wealthy man like Cabella buy cell phones from Walmart? Unless, or course, he wanted to make calls that couldn’t be traced.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
CARA
HE WAS IN the basement.
Cara found it hard to stop thinking about the concerns Mrs. Cabella had expressed while under the influence of god-knows-how-many drugs and medications. Surely, under normal circumstances, she would not have bared her soul to the woman she’d once opposed as a prospective daughter-in-law. Was it possible that in the twilight zone of illness, her worries were exaggerated?