21
Mitch walked so quickly I couldn’t catch up until he was in the cottage, moving behind his desk.
“Mitch, that was nothing. I was just trying to help out with the baby, and then Cassie…” I shrugged, not sure how to finish the sentence.
He held up a hand. “I get it, Oz. And I’m not surprised.”
“Mitch, I would never do anything like that to you, or to Cassie, or your family. Never.”
“Close the door.”
I did as he said.
“Take a seat.”
I hesitated. He was already rattling away on his keyboard. Then he noticed I was still standing. “Ozzie, seriously. I’m not upset…not at you. Just sit down and relax. We have a lot to cover so you can try to figure out who’s behind Nicole’s murder.”
That got my attention, and I slipped into the chair. He went back to his computer screen and this time was using his mouse. He was probably clicking through some web pages.
“This is weird, Mitch. I really appreciate you believing in me and helping me out, but we need to clear the air on what happened in the kitchen.”
He stopped, folded his hands on the desk, and tilted his head. “Don’t say a word. Let me tell you what happened.”
I didn’t move.
“So, she starts telling you the sob story that is her life, and then when you start feeling sorry for her, she literally pulls you in like a black widow and plants a kiss on you. Am I right?”
Did this guy have a hidden camera in the kitchen? “How did you guess?”
“Little did I know years ago, but that’s really who Cassie is. Plus, I know for a fact she’s done this act on three other men since we’ve been married. And those are just the ones I know about.”
And I thought my stomach was already in a knot. “What are you saying?”
“Not to bring you into all of our drama, but she was kind of that way when I met her. She makes you feel sorry for her, and then she reels you in because she’s so insecure.”
Was he talking about the same person? I realized he knew her better than I did, and people can change over the years, but he was almost acting as if he were entrapped.
“Don’t look so shocked,” he said.
I took in a slow breath and exhaled. “I…I just can’t believe this is Cassie we’re talking about. Nicole and I looked up to you guys as the perfect couple. Now, after everything I’ve been through, I realize we were a little naïve, but…I don’t know. I’m just sorry for both of you.”
“Honestly,” he said, glancing at his monitor, “I should have left her after we lost the first baby.”
“First baby? Before Luthor?”
“She got pregnant while we were in school, Oz. I think she did it on purpose. She certainly didn’t tell me she was getting off the pill.”
Hold the phone. This shit was getting to be over the top, and a breaker was about to be tripped in my brain. I wiped both hands across my face. It was the best I could do. I wished I could put my head under a cold shower. “Mitch, I don’t mean to be rude, but Cassie means a lot to me and Nicole.”
He held up a hand. “I’m not trying to win you over. I’m sure she’d say I’ve done some mean things over the years. But there’s only so much one man can stand.”
My eyes searched for a safe spot. They finally landed on a loose thread on my shirt.
“So, what do you say? Let’s be productive.”
“Ohhhkay,” I said.
“I think we’re running out of time.”
“Why are you thinking that?”
“Your story is starting to pop up on more websites.”
“Crap.”
“‘Crap’ is right.” He pointed a finger at me. “You said something last night about the killer—that you might have seen a picture of him. Can you describe him to me?”
I recounted what I’d seen in the blurred image Valentine had shown me.
“He was a white guy?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Nothing. You just never said.” He typed a few seconds. “So you’re guessing he’s about your height, six-three?”
“Close to that, yes. Why? What can you do?”
“I have a friend in the US Attorney’s Office in Boston. We grew up together, same high school and everything. Off the record, I know he’ll listen to me. He may or may not be able to do anything. But this description is something tangible I can give to him. And I’m hoping he can check on the status of this Calvin Drake asswipe. See if he can verify that he’s had no contact with anyone on the outside.”
“Fuck, Mitch. Why didn’t you tell me about this contact last night?”
“Last night was a blur. It was for me, anyway, with Cassie surprising us like that.”
I asked what he’d told her about me and Nicole.
“I didn’t say anything about you being implicated in her murder. I just said you were devastated and that you felt like you had to get away from Austin for a while.”
“Way to think on your feet.”
The corner of his lip edged upward. “Well, then she asked where your car was.”
“Damn.”
“I said it had broken down outside of town, which is why you called me so late.”
He had all the answers…thankfully. “I appreciate you doing that. I hate to lie to her, but it’s probably in her best interest to not know.”
“Yours too, my friend.”
Ouch.
“So, how quickly can you talk to your buddy?”
“His schedule can be crazy, and it’s usually full of life-and-death meetings. I’ll put in a call here in a moment. But I figured we could work in parallel. Remember our two other suspects?”
Elsa and Harvey. “The backstabber and the ass-grabber.”
“Ha!” He smacked the desk. “Glad you have a little sense of humor left.” He picked up the list from the Grand Hyatt and studied it a second. “Their work addresses are actually pretty close to here.” He opened a browser and did some basic searches. “Okay, it looks like Elsa lives in New Haven and Harvey in Waterbury.”
He clicked the mouse a few times; then he twirled his chair around, grabbed two sheets of paper off a printer, and tossed them on the desk in front of me. “Look, you need to be real careful here, but I think you need to personally visit these two clowns.”
I nodded, already sensing my body going into preparation mode—like a gladiator before a major battle.
“Don’t be stupid about this, but if you can get them alone and grill them gently or, if it’s required, not-so-gently, about… Well, you know the questions to ask. You’re a lawyer.”
“Former practicing lawyer.”
“Right. Former lawyer. So, I think we—”
The door slammed open. Mitch lurched upward.
I didn’t even have to turn around.
Mitch said, “Dammit, Cassie. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“Mo just barfed on the baby.”
He brought his hand to his head.
“Take the dog to the vet. That’s the least you can do.”
A few awkward seconds of silence, and then Cassie said, “Sorry, Ozzie. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“That’s okay. Family comes first.”
“Not around here, it doesn’t.” She walked out the door and didn’t bother shutting it.
“You ready?” Mitch said, lifting to his feet. “I’ll grab Mo and then take you to your car on the way to the vet. I’ve got to get out of here, or I’m going to come unglued.”
I was ready to race him to the car.
22
The drive down to New Haven took me about an hour. When I arrived, it was a bit like stepping back in time. Old buildings with unique stone architecture, lots of trees, museums and art galleries, and the home to Yale University. I noticed a sign that said the city was founded in 1701. Amazing. If Nicole and I were on this trip together, we would thoroughly enjoy spending a day seeing the sights, taking in the culture.
I circled Elsa Brady’s home three times to get a feel for the neighborhood and who might be home. On the third go-around, I slowed and stared at the back of the lone car parked in the driveway. It was a shiny, purple Ford Mustang. Not just sparkling clean, but the kind that would glow in the dark. Still, though, my attention was stolen by the license plate: ELSA1.
A vanity plate.
Kind of went with the whole persona that Nicole had described about Elsa and how she demanded that the world revolve around her. And when the world didn’t comply with her wishes or manipulations, she’d force it. Until she’d been caught and ultimately fired from Genbio.
But that was why I was here. To find out if her resentment toward Nicole had led to her plotting Nicole’s death.
As bizarre as it sounded in my head, I knew I couldn’t keep using that as some type of excuse. Someone killed Nicole—flat out—and no matter what she had done, there was no good reason for her to be murdered. Any killer would have to be unhinged, especially someone who had gone to the extra effort of setting me up as the murderer.
I parked four doors down and walked up to the porch. It was an older one-story home, but it had a fresh paint job, a soft green, what looked like a new roof, tasteful landscaping, and a sign hanging on the front door that read: Make every day a great day!
I almost barfed.
I pushed the doorbell button and took a couple of steps back. I didn’t want to scare her, yet I could feel venom coursing through my veins. I wasn’t sure what I’d say or what I’d do if she didn’t agree to talk to me. With everything on the line—what was left of my life—I wasn’t going to rule out any options.
Five minutes passed, and no one came to the door. Perhaps someone had picked her up. I wondered how she’d respond if I were waiting for her when she came home later?
I walked around the side of the house and past her car, peeking in a few windows to make sure no one was home. I saw no sign of movement. In the back yard, I climbed up wooden steps to the deck. It looked new, or at least freshly stained. There was a sliding glass door with vertical blinds. I cupped a hand against the glass and looked inside. Couldn’t see much more than rustic cabinets and flooring that had a pink hue.
Yes, pink.
I grabbed the door handle and tugged. It was locked. Not surprising. Maybe I could try each of the windows. If that didn’t work, I might just camp out in one of the deck chairs.
The thundering vibration coming off the deck made me lurch. I swung my head to the left just as a man with vampire-like teeth dove at me with a tire iron. Twisting my torso, I managed to avoid the weapon for the most part—it glanced off my shoulder. Still, it felt like I’d been shot. My shoulder was on fire. I stumbled backward but somehow kept my balance. I looked up. I didn’t have time to blink before another man with a ponytail barreled into me, ramming his shoulder into my chest. I gasped—every bit of air in my lungs was sucked out like a vacuum—and then we crashed through the railing of the deck and landed on the grass.
Something had pierced the back of my head. I rolled over, put a hand behind my head, and felt something sticky. The copper smell of blood invaded my senses. I tried to breathe, but it came out in wheezing gasps. Finally getting my bearings, I noticed nails sticking out from the splintered boards. That had to be the source of my head wound.
A second later, two sets of massive hands lifted me off the ground. I got dizzy, and my legs wobbled, which was long enough for Ponytail to lock my arms behind me.
“Work him over, Jeb.”
I looked up and saw Jeb with his jagged teeth running right at me, delivering a roundhouse punch to my face.
“Come on, Jeb. Some more. Teach this sonofabitch a lesson! Let’s do this thing, dammit.”
Jeb cackled and came at me again. Still woozy, I somehow managed to lift my knees, just as Jeb launched another punch. He rammed his chest into my legs. His right fist dropped like a balloon that had just been punctured, his face scrunching like a shriveled raisin from the unexpected impact. He teetered for a second, then toppled over.
One down, one to go.
I whipped my shoulders left and right, hoping to free myself from Ponytail’s grip. “Get back here, you little fucker,” he yelled, pawing at my arms, my shirt, anything he could grab.
Inch by inch, I slipped out of his grip, bolstered by the prospect of getting away from this maniac. I knew if I could turn and face him, maybe grab a board full of nails, the fight might become even.
As I pulled my right arm away from him, he swatted his big mitt at my face—it was as though I’d been slashed by the claws of a bear. I screamed out, put a hand to my face. But I was free and backpedaling.
Only for a brief moment. On my third step, a hand reached up from the ground and grabbed my ankle. I looked down and saw the wretched grin of Jeb.
I jerked my leg, trying to free myself, but Jeb wasn’t letting go. Then he wrapped his other hand around my ankle. I was screwed.
Ponytail screamed like a wild man as he ran me over—lifting me off my feet—then driving his shoulder into my gut when my back hit the unforgiving ground. He and Jeb jumped on me and started punching and kicking. I curled up as best as I could while my brain sent panic signals to my chest to inflate my lungs.
Air. I had to get air.
One of them grabbed my arm, pulled it away from my head. My chest was exposed, and they took advantage of it—one of them kicked me in the sternum. The pain was unbearable but splendid at the same time—my lungs had unfolded and began to take in air.
Another few seconds of punches, and then, “Ozzie!”
Everyone froze.
I opened an eye—the other one was too swollen to see much—and I saw a woman standing over me. I couldn’t make out her face—the sun’s rays were just behind her head.
“Yeah?” I said.
“Ozzie Novak?”
“The one and only.” I coughed. Blood filled my mouth. I spit straight out in front of me.
“What the fuck!” Ponytail yelled.
I’d hit the bull’s-eye, apparently.
Ponytail seethed, grabbed at my hair…but, of course, there was nothing to grab.
“Stop it, Darrell.”
Darrell flipped his head to look at Elsa, smacking me in the face with his ponytail. It felt I’d been hit by one of those greasy splat rats. “What the fuck, Elsa? We’re just doing what you asked us to do. This sonofabitch was trying to break into your place. And I know he would have beat you up again. Just let us finish him off. You go on inside. I promise we won’t kill him.”
He pulled his arm back. I prepared to dodge the punch, but I wasn’t sure I had the energy to move quick enough.
“Darrell, you dumb ass—this isn’t my ex-boyfriend, you dimwit.”
Darrell the Dimwit. Exactly.
“It’s not?” Darrell looked at me. I shook my head.
He scratched his cheek—I was surprised his bear claw didn’t slice it right open. Jeb got to his feet, pointing at me. “But he was breaking into your house, Elsa. I saw it with my own eyes.” He paused, moving his eyes from me to Elsa, and then back to me. “What kind of name is ‘Ozzie’?”
“Dammit, Jeb, just leave him alone,” she said. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t go to the cops and turn you guys in for assault.”
Jeb gulped—it looked like he was trying to swallow a baseball.
The fight had ended. Now I hoped she would talk to me.
23
The bag of frozen peas against the side of my face smelled like…peas, but it was effective, so I kept it there.
“More water?” Elsa asked, standing by the sink.
“Sure. Thanks.”
She filled my glass, set it on the table, and then peered into the adjoining den. I could see the TV screen. Darrell and Jeb were watching an episode of SpongeBob. I swear it�
�s true—I couldn’t make that up. They were watching a little kids’ show, even giggling every minute or so.
“Those two were just trying to protect me. You know that, right?”
“I guess,” I said. With my face numb, my shoulder and the back of my head were battling for “most painful injury.” I touched my head and winced. “Hold on, I’ll get you some Neosporin for that head wound, although you might need a tetanus shot.”
She ran out for a second and then came back into the kitchen with its pinkish tile, ointment in hand. After applying it to the hole in my head, she washed her hands, sat at the table, and crossed her legs. “You look a lot different from the pictures I saw on Nicole’s desk.”
“I had one of those makeovers.”
She gave me a puzzled look.
“Nothing.”
She folded her arms across her chest. Elsa was attractive, although she appeared to be losing the age battle to stress lines around her eyes and hairline. She was wearing one of those couture sweatsuits, pink. It matched the theme of her car and home.
A few seconds of awkward silence. “Elsa, at the risk of drawing the wrath of…” I nodded at the den. “Are they your brothers?”
She nodded. “I claim them every once in a while. I have this crazy ex-boyfriend, Joel.”
“Crazy ex?”
“Yeah, good old Joel. Charmed the pants right off me.” She tried to force out a laugh, but it didn’t work. She paused and looked off into the corner of the room for a second. Then she shot out of the chair, grabbing a cigarette and lighter out of one of the kitchen cabinets.
“You mind?” she asked as she lit the cigarette and took a pull.
I didn’t really have a choice, so I said nothing.
She sat back down and crossed one leg over the other. “Let’s just say he turned out not to be my ‘prince charming.’ Just another bad decision by me in a long string of bad decisions.”
I nodded, wanting to veer the topic back to Nicole. I stole a peek into the other room. The brothers remained enamored with the TV show. Still, though, if this questioning with Elsa went south, they’d probably come to her rescue within seconds.
ON The Run (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 6) (Redemption Thriller Series 18) Page 11