by E B Corbin
The realtor seemed to think it over. “Perhaps. Stacy is . . . well, she’s having a hard time since her mother died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. She seemed fine yesterday—until the shooting started. That did upset her quite a bit, but it’s understandable. I’m sure you don’t run into many gun-wielding people in the real estate business.”
Bledsoe snorted. “You’d be surprised. I think a lot of them are ready to shoot their competition.”
“But they don’t,” Sam said with a tiny smile. “I’m sorry we upset Stacy. We were only trying to protect ourselves.”
After a moment, Norman gave his head a tiny shake. “I should not be discussing my daughter like this. Forget I said anything.”
“No, please, I . . . we . . .” Sam swung her hand between herself and Henry. “We feel responsible for Stacy’s distress. If there’s anything we can do…”
“I appreciate your concern, but there’s nothing to be done. Once Stacy gets a notion in her, well, it’s hard to change her mind.” Norman gave Sam a half-smile. “We should get on with finding you a house.”
“Not until we’re sure Stacy is going to be all right. I can’t stop feeling guilty,” Sam said. “Maybe if she went out with us again we could reassure her.”
“Thank you for the suggestion, but I don’t think that would work.” Norman let out a long breath before he gave her a wry smile. “I don’t think my daughter wants to see either of you again, under any circumstances. She’s scared to death of you.”
“Oh.” Sam leaned back in her chair and tried pleading. “But you will work with us, won’t you?”
The realtor’s eyes went to his fingers as they tapped a fast dance on his desk. “I guess I should be perfectly honest with you.” He hesitated, balling his hands into fists to stop the movement. “You might prefer not to work with me. I, uh, I’ve been accused of murdering my wife, Stacy’s mother.”
“Did you do it?” Sam kept her voice even as if the answer was of little concern. Of course, she knew he wouldn’t admit it, even if it were true.
“What? No! Of course not! I wouldn’t harm a hair on Mary Margaret’s head. I loved my wife, Mrs. Turner.” Norman’s chest sunk inward as his shoulders slumped. “But I will understand if you don’t want to work with me. I spent the last three days in jail, hoping for a miracle. I was only released late yesterday afternoon at the insistence of my pro bono attorney. I think my daughter now considers me some kind of hardened criminal and that I can handle myself around you two.”
Sam didn’t know what to say. Deception had never been her strong suit. She preferred to face issues straight on but she would have to learn how to fabricate an alternative persona if she wanted to bluff her way through this. God, she had to be careful not to turn into a fraud like her father!
When Sam remained silent, Henry shuffled his feet against the thread-bare carpet and leaned forward. “Mr. Bledsoe, we’re not dangerous. You don’t have anything to worry about with us. If you’re innocent, like you say, we’d like to work with you, no matter what you’ve been accused of. We need to find a place to live—”
Sam touched Henry’s arm and shook her head. She’d had enough play-acting. “He seems to have been honest with us. I guess we can tell him the truth.”
Henry’s mouth dropped open. “You sure?”
“As sure as I can be.” Sam turned her attention to the man behind the desk who’d been watching them with curious eyes. “Mr. Bledsoe, I’m the daughter of Barry Gentile. I…”
Norman sucked in a breath. “If you’re coming to trick me into…”
“No, no, not at all. I’m here to return your investment.”
“Return it? Is this some kind of a joke?” The real estate broker stood, raised his hand to point at the door. “You can leave right now.”
“Please, just listen to what I have to say.”
“Your father ruined my family’s life. My daughter has to go through life with a less than perfect face, which I’m sure you noticed, because we didn’t have the extra funds to pay for an operation. My wife just died and she gave up all hope of finding enough money to pay for a medication that might have prolonged her life. I’m suspected of murdering the woman I loved more than you can imagine . . . all because of your father.” A sob escaped his lips, which he tried to cover by turning it into a growl. “Just leave.”
Sam patted the air with both hands. “Please, sir, sit down and hear me out.”
“I don’t want to hear any more. I want you gone!” His face grew red, a vein in his forehead bulged.
Henry attempted to calm him. “Mr. Bledsoe, I understand how you feel. My father was taken in by that scum too. I had the same kind of reaction when I first met Sam. But please listen to what she has to say. She truly does want to help.”
Norman took a few deep breaths, cupped his forehead in his hand and stared at his desk. “Thirty years ago, before I ran into Barry Gentile, I had a growing business, was named Broker of the Year more than once, had many friends and a happy family. My daughter was looking forward to having surgery to fix her nose, had even picked out several looks she wanted to show the surgeon. My wife was healthy and we could have had a wonderful life doing whatever we liked. If only I had never met that despicable man.”
“Many times I wished my mother had never met him too.” Sam slumped in her chair, her forehead wrinkled. “In fact, I joined the FBI to help stop him. I’m truly sorry for all the pain my father has caused you and I know I can never make it all up to you, but I’d like to try as best I can. I would truly like to return the cash my father took from you.”
Norman breathed in and out several times before he spoke. “Two hundred thousand dollars is not much anymore—but it was a lot back when I threw it all away on a get-rich-quick scheme. Now it wouldn’t pay for a shack in this market.”
“I know. I want to return the funds with interest. I’ve set aside $600,000 with your name on it.” Sam spoke softly but with fervor.
A look of surprise flit across his face before he scowled at her. “I don’t know what kind of trick you’re trying to play this time, but I won’t get fooled again. Once more, I would kindly ask you to leave.”
Sam remained seated. “Mr. Bledsoe, I’m not going anywhere until we make some kind of arrangements to give your money back.”
Norman scoffed. “Please. What kind of a fool do you think I am? If you don’t clear out this minute, much as I don’t want to, I will have to call the police.”
“That’s not necessary. We’ll go if you insist, but please think about it first. Why would I admit who I was if I were trying to deceive you?”
“You already lied to my daughter. She believes you’re looking for a house.”
“And I’m sorry about that. It was a mistake. I wanted to find out a little about your circumstances before I returned so much cash.”
“You were checking up on us?” Norman’s voice rose to a squeak. “How dare you!”
“You can’t blame me for being cautious. From the news reports, you killed your wife. What was I supposed to think? That’s far more serious than sweet-talking some money from you.” Sam kept her voice hard. “Which I had no intention of doing. If you refuse to take what is rightfully yours, I’ll offer it to your daughter.”
“You leave Stacy out of this. She’s had a hard enough life as it is.” Norman tried to control his breathing, which grew louder and faster the longer he talked. “She wouldn’t appreciate my telling you this, but she’s very self-conscious about her appearance. She’s moved from job to job trying to find a fit. Selling real estate came the closest to giving her a small bit of confidence. Now, thanks to you, I’m afraid she’s lost that.”
“I can make it up to her.” Sam’s gaze drilled into Norman’s eyes. “Please let me.”
Norman let out a long breath. He seemed to deflate in front of her. “I wish I could believe you.”
“You can. I’m not trying to trick you. I’m trying to help.”
&
nbsp; No happiness shone in his eyes as he sank into his chair. He looked at her with sorrow instead. “If only you had arrived a few weeks ago. It would have meant something then. Now I don’t care about money or justice or vengeance. Mary Margaret is gone and it won’t bring her back.”
“But your daughter is still here. She needs you.” Sam never expected he would turn the money down. She had no ready argument to convince him to take what was his. She realized how ill-prepared she was for the task she’d taken on. First her bungled attempt with Henry and his sister, and now this. Maybe she should give it up, return the money to whatever government agency would be in charge of recompensing the injured parties and get on with her life.
Norman shook his head. “It’s too late. My wife is dead and my daughter is almost forty-five years old. She’s lived with me and her mother all her life. I don’t even know if she can exist outside our home. No amount of money can change those facts.”
“But it could help.”
“Not if I’m in jail.”
“Use part of the money to get yourself a decent attorney, for one thing,” Sam said.
“If I take the money, which I’m not saying I will, understand, I won’t waste it on some high-priced attorney.”
Henry snapped his fingers as he leaned forward. “Maybe you won’t have to. There’s got to be some publicity-hungry lawyer who would jump at the opportunity to try a case like yours. Mercy killing is a highly debatable topic.”
“Except the cops are calling it straight-up murder because of the life insurance policy.” Norman rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I swear to you, I wouldn’t have killed my wife no matter what.”
“What happened the day she died?” A glimmer of a possibility entered Sam’s mind.
Norman shrugged. “I don’t know. I found her unresponsive in her bed when I got home that day. Called 911 immediately but it was too late.”
“Was your wife alone all day?”
“No, she’s never alone. We have a day nurse who comes in from nine in the morning until six in the evening. By that time, either myself or Stacy is home. Nora usually stays in Mary Margaret’s room while she’s awake but when she falls asleep, Nora takes a break. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Maguire, prepares lunch and dinner before she leaves at three o’clock.”
“What time did you get home that day?”
“Around 6:15. Nora was still here waiting for me. She said that Mary Margaret was napping so I didn’t go to see her right away. She’d been having trouble sleeping for the past couple of months and Nora suggested we not disturb her. I was glad my wife was finally able to get some rest.” A tear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek. “I didn’t think her rest would last forever.”
“When your wife slept that day, did Nora stay in the room with her?”
“I guess she might have taken a break while she had the chance. That day, my brother-in-law dropped by to see Mary Margaret, and my receptionist, Helen, stopped by too. Helen and my wife have been friends since grade school. Nora assumed Mary Margaret was worn out from so many visitors.”
“I’m not sure I understand why, if your wife was terminally ill, there was an autopsy.”
“I insisted. I knew Mary Margaret was growing weaker, but the doctor said she had several more months to live. She was a fighter, my Mary, and we both thought she could kick this thing. But the pain was excruciating and watching her suffer every day drove me crazy. I hated to watch her waste away, but I would never in a million years suffocate her.”
“Someone did,” Sam said. “Do you have any thoughts on who it might be?”
“I’ve gone over it in my head a thousand times. I can’t imagine who would do such a thing.”
“Who was the last person to see her alive?”
Norman looked at the ceiling while he spoke. “Let me see. I guess it would have been her brother. He came over around four o’clock. No, no, it might have been Father Black. He stops . . . er, stopped by at least once a week to comfort Mary Margaret. I’m not sure what time he was here that day. It all seems like a bad dream.”
Before Sam thought about what she was saying, the words tumbled out. “Maybe we can help find the truth about what happened that day.”
Henry sucked in a breath. “Sam…”
She held out a hand to stop him. “We can at least look into it. Maybe we’ll come up with something everyone else missed.”
“Much as I appreciate the thought, that would be rather hard to do. The police interviewed everyone who was here when it happened and decided I’m the only one with motive.”
Sam understood. “Because of the life insurance policy?”
“Yeah. It was for a million dollars and we were broke. The DA thought it was enough to arrest me even though there is no other evidence, just conjecture.” Norman rubbed his chin. “Thank God, the judge decided I was not a flight risk and granted my bail. Of course, Mary Margaret’s illness took every penny we had and Stacy had to take out a second mortgage on the house to cover it. But at least I’m out of the hellhole for the time being.”
“Well, money is no longer an issue but it won’t last forever. We’ve got to clear your name. Find out who decided to smother your wife and why.”
Henry remained silent while Sam questioned Norman about his wife. He thought she had lost her mind. They weren’t detectives, had no clue how to go about finding the truth. But he bit his tongue and tried to appear calm. He figured they had as much a chance at solving the puzzle of who killed Mary Margaret Bledsoe as they did of visiting Mars. He wriggled in his seat, clutching the arms to keep from interrupting.
“Mrs. Turner, I appreciate your offering to help, but I think there’s little you can do. You don’t have any authority to question these people. I’m sure they already told the police everything they know.”
“Fresh eyes and ears can’t hurt. Henry and I might pick up something the police missed.”
“And even if you did, what they tell you would not be permissible at my trial.”
“Maybe not, but if we got the person to confess, or caught someone in a lie, we could turn that information over to the police.”
“You’re dreaming. No one’s going to confess. And the police believe they already caught their man. I doubt they would put any effort into following any leads you might come up with and sabotage their case. Besides, I can’t imagine anyone who was around that day would kill my wife.”
“Somebody did. If it wasn’t you, it had to be someone close to your wife.” Sam knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Her work at the FBI never involved questioning suspects. She stayed behind the scenes and dug up what she could online. This was a whole different ballgame, but she wouldn’t give it up.
She felt responsible for this whole mess. If her father hadn’t cleaned out Norman Bledsoe’s savings, he would be a successful broker today with no need to claim his wife’s life insurance money. This was more than likely a mercy killing and if she and Henry had arrived just a month or two sooner, Mary Margaret could have had the treatment she needed.
Norman took a minute to think it over. “I can’t imagine who would do such a thing.”
“Look, you have to face reality. Your wife is dead. Someone killed her. Let us try to figure out who. Don’t you want to know?”
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Chapter Nine
Norman melted further into his chair. “I don’t know. If they did it out of compassion, what right do I have to ruin their life?”
Sam tried to hold her temper but some of her annoyance slipped through. “Mr. Bledsoe, someone murdered your wife! You and Stacy never had time to say good-bye. Do you really not want whoever did it to pay for it?”
After staring at the ceiling for a few moments, Norman Bledsoe reluctantly agreed to Sam’s offer. He asked them to wait while he went to get the contact information for Nora, his brother-in-law, and Father Black from Helen, his receptionist.
As soon as Norman left the room, Henry scowled at Sam. She twitched in her seat, uncom
fortable under his disapproval, although she didn’t know why she should feel that way. She hired him, she could fire him if she wished. But that thought held little appeal. She would so much prefer to get along with him.
Before the realtor could return, Henry broke the silence. “What the hell do we know about investigating a murder?”
“How hard can it be?” Sam had her doubts about their abilities but backing down wasn’t in her nature. “We’ll figure it out.”
“You used to track financial data at the FBI. How many murder suspects did you question?”
“Actually…” She took a deep breath, held it, then let it out with a whoosh. “None. But we’re two intelligent, capable human beings, don’t you think we can handle this?”
Henry rubbed his forehead in frustration. “I didn’t sign on to be an investigator.”
His attitude surprised Sam. She felt a definite disconnect with the man she had hoped would be her assistant—partner if it all worked out. Now she began to think she’d made a mistake. This was the first case they’d worked on together and it wasn’t going smoothly.
Henry was intelligent and perceptive. Trained in combat, she had no doubt he could take care of himself, and her, if the need arose. They’d been together, non-stop, over the past few days and there were times she found him intuitive and astute. He was just what she needed in a business partner. So why was he being so disagreeable?
“Are you saying you won’t help me with this?”
Henry sighed in frustration. “I didn’t say that. You’re the boss. I’ll do whatever you want. I just don’t see how we’ll be able to solve the problem. Jesus, Sam, we’re way out of our element solving murders.”
“You could be right. But I won’t know the right thing to do with his money if we don’t clear him. I’m afraid if I transfer it to him and he’s found guilty, the state will confiscate it.”
“Give it to Stacy, then.”
“I don’t feel good about that either. Stacy strikes me as too . . . I don’t know . . . naive, nervous, or something. Maybe insecure is a better description, I’m not sure she will know how to handle that much cash.”