“No!” Gabriel straightened when the delivery driver slowed his gait. Gabriel nodded at the man and smiled. He waited until the guy entered the building next door to the diner. “Too many cops. Just keep an eye out. And don’t let that caring husband get away next time.”
“Okay.” He hung up.
The delivery driver walked out of the building and passed Gabriel.
“Excuse me,” Gabriel said. “I don’t suppose I could purchase one flower from you.”
“Sorry, they’re already paid for, waiting to be delivered.”
“Just one, nothing expensive.” Gabriel pulled out a twenty. “My wife is mad at me. I need to make it up to her.”
The guy looked at Gabriel, the twenty, then back at Gabriel. “What can it hurt?” He reached in and pulled out an orange rose from a mixed bouquet. “Hope it helps.”
“I’m sure it will.” Gabriel grinned. He returned to the diner and handed the flower to Analyn.
“You sneak.” His wife sniffed the flower. “Mmmmm. I never see it coming.”
“Just want you to know how special you are to me. You’re the best. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
“I’m the lucky one.” She ran her finger over the back of his hand.
He took a bite of his pastrami sandwich, but had a hard time swallowing with the bubble of concern stuck in his throat.
Chapter 18
Jane leaned back and stretched. With all the calls and searching the internet, it’d been a long day with nothing useful produced.
A phone call from Trish earlier told of the delivery van with the surprise of the crib at Pamela’s. Jane couldn’t imagine what she was going through. It had to be heartbreaking.
This missing husband of hers was some piece of work. Selfish enough to disappear with all these secrets, and not cancelling the crib. Jane hoped if she found him, he gave her a hard time. She’d like nothing more than to knock him on his backside.
Jane pulled the key she’d found in the attic of the Evers’ home out of the safe. Black plastic covered the top. Instead of teeth, it had a round cylinder. Jane recognized it as a storage unit key because her mom had packed her belongings and put them in a unit when Jane headed into the military. It gave Terri and Poppy more room in the bedroom all three had shared growing up.
Jane called all the storage facilities near the Evers’ home. She next tried the Westside where the Evers’s insurance office was located. After an hour, still no luck. Hardly any point with so many aliases.
She lifted her feet onto her desk and twisted the key between her fingers. To get into most storage facilities, you needed a code for the gate or the door for an indoor facility. And there was no guarantee his unit was even in this city. Could be in St. Augustine. Even Orlando.
“What are you doing?”
Jane looked up, startled. Brenda was standing in her doorway, a notebook in her hand.
“Not having any luck,” Jane said.
“With what?” Brenda stepped inside.
“This key. It belongs to a storage unit, but I don’t know which one.” Jane blew a large exhalation of air. “And with all this guy’s aliases it’s even harder to figure out.”
“Let me try it.”
“Why? You got superpowers?”
“You wouldn’t believe what people will tell someone in a law office they won’t tell others,” Brenda said. “I’ve got free time since Winston had me move a couple appointments so she could go check on the Evers’ woman.” Her lips thinned.
“You don’t sound like you approve.”
“It’s just that Winston’s having a hard time with Steve’s death, and this woman’s situation isn’t helping. I can tell Winston hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since Pamela Evers came in.”
“Hopefully helping Pamela will help Winston.” Jane tossed the key to Brenda. “What’ll it cost me to use your expertise?”
“A mint chocolate shake from Wawa.”
“If you find out where that key goes,” Jane pointed, “I’ll not only get you a shake, but fill your gas tank.”
“Deal. So, what are you going to do while I’m looking into this?” Brenda asked.
“Follow where the evidence is leading me. Right now, if Evers was the target, I have to check into his wife as much as I am him.”
“Why would she get herself shot if she were the one responsible for all this?”
“Maybe that wasn’t part of the plan. People who kill are a strange bunch. A few years back some man paid his mistress’ boyfriend to kill his wife in a supposed carjacking. He was to shoot the husband in the arm to make it look plausible. The boyfriend instead shot the man in the head then killed the wife. The police figure the boyfriend killed the husband because he was jealous.”
“Jealous, yet he takes the money and kills the wife.”
“Yeah.”
Brenda turned to leave then paused. “Doesn’t a direct hit to her stomach mean the shooter was upset by Ms. Evers’ pregnancy?”
“Or just aiming at the largest part of her body to ensure he didn’t miss.”
“Either way, if this husband was ripping off women, it could be any of his victims.”
“None of which have come forward with their story.” Jane put her legs down and sighed.
“Your job is a whole lot of unanswered questions, isn’t it?”
“Yep, some days it really sucks.”
Chapter 19
The sun had gone behind the clouds which threatened more rain. Winston buzzed Pamela when she got to the gate for the community. Once inside, she pulled around the corner to the Evers’ home and parked in front of the house. A blue Toyota Corolla, which she assumed belonged to Pamela, was in the driveway. Winston recalled their first meeting. Pamela’s pain showed through when discussing her husband. The tears, outright sobs. While you can pretend the crying, there’s no way to fake that haunted look in her eye.
The same one Winston saw in the mirror every year.
She refocused and got out of her vehicle. A black SUV was parked across the street a few houses down. Could it be the same one that followed Jane?
Winston’s heart hammered in her chest. Maybe she should call Jane. But what if it was nothing?
She glanced over her shoulder, then over at the driver’s seat. No one appeared to be inside. She released a stuck breath and strolled to the back of the vehicle. She pulled out her phone and clicked on the tape player app.
“XJV95.” She recorded the license.
It could be a different SUV. Someone just visiting a neighbor.
But if it was the same car, where was the driver?
She looked toward Pamela’s house. Winston rushed to the front porch and knocked on the door. No answer. She glanced at her watch. Almost five, the time they’d agreed to meet. If the car in the parking spot was Pamela’s, she must be home. Winston’s pulse ratcheted up a notch.
After another knock with no answer, she walked down the stairs, paused, then headed back up and looked in the window. The living room appeared disheveled. Not knowing Pamela well, she didn’t know whether she was a neat freak or not.
Winston glanced back at the Toyota in the drive. A voice whispered in her head saying something wasn’t right. She tried the doorknob. Locked.
She walked down the steps, then headed around the side of the house. A man in black clothing rushed at her. His face was hidden under a ball cap.
“What the…” she gasped.
He slammed her into the wet grass. Her purse flew off her arm. She landed on her back, and her breath whooshed from her lungs. It took a second for her to get her bearings and realize what had just occurred.
She hopped up and ran to the street, but the man peeled out in the SUV. Winston considered trying to follow, but knew she’d never catch him. She turned back to the house. After inhaling a deep breath, she walked around to an open screen for a pool area. Sliding glass doors were opened leading into the house. She tiptoed passed the pool and stuck her head into what lo
oked like a bedroom.
“Pamela.” Winston hollered. “Pamela.”
She paused inside the doorway. Her mouth went dry. It was way too quiet inside.
***
Pamela drummed her fingers on her leg as they headed to the house. She was going to be late for her meeting with Winston, all because Trish insisted on taking her for a walk at the Avenues Mall to do some window shopping. She thought it would distract her from the crib being delivered earlier.
It didn’t work.
At once, a black SUV sped around the corner coming within inches of their car. Pamela’s hand swung out to keep Trish from hitting the steering wheel.
Trish slammed on the brakes, and the car skidded to the side of the road. “You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, just got the heart racing.” Once they parked next to her car in the driveway, Pamela unbuckled her seatbelt. “Wonder where he was going in such a hurry.”
“Hard telling.” Trish let out a frustrated breath.
“Probably some kid who doesn’t know how to drive.” Pamela glanced over her shoulder. A Mercedes was parked out front. She continued up the walk, unlocked the front door to the house, stopping mid-step just inside the threshold. Total destruction. Sofa cushions torn apart, drawers taken out and gone through.
“What the…?” Trish stood beside her and glanced around.
“Pamela?” A woman’s voice came from the hallway. “Pamela?”
“Out here.” She took hold of Trish’s arm. Was the person who destroyed her home still there?
Pamela placed her finger to her lips and pulled Trish toward the open door. She had one foot outside when Winston Black came rushing from the back bedroom area. Her jacket was askew and her hair disheveled, unlike the put together woman they had met in the law office days earlier.
“Are you all right?” Winston asked.
Before Pamela could answer, Trish stepped forward.
“What are you doing in here, and what are you looking for?” She used the same accusatory tone as in the office when asking about her fees. Did she really think Winston would break into someone’s house?
“Some guy just ran out of here,” Winston explained. “I thought you might be hurt. He took off in an SUV.”
The two women looked at each other in amazement. It had to be the same vehicle that almost hit them.
Pamela looked at her once clean home, everything once in its place, not torn apart.
“Why would somebody do this?” Tears welled in Pamela’s eyes. “What could they be looking for?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
Pamela didn’t know anyone who would do this. “Maybe it was just a burglar.”
“Could be,” Winston said. “But from the destruction, I’d say he was looking for something.”
Pamela swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. What could they have been looking for? And would they be coming back?
Chapter 20
Winston spent the better parts of two hours filling out paperwork and going through mugshots—though she didn’t get a good look at the man who ran her down. Whoever it was had torn apart Pamela’s home office along with the living room. The police suggested Winston had scared him off when she arrived.
Between the police and calming Pamela down, her evening was blown.
It was after eight when Winston finally got home. She headed to the entertainment room with the large screen television and sat down in one of the large easy chairs.
“You want to eat in here?” Marcia stuck her head in the door.
“Please.” Winston flicked on the video.
Steve was live with his band in a bar up in Atlanta. One of their last live shows. The shadows of the video bounced off the wall. Such a waste. Steve Pendleton, lead singer of the Wandering Five, dead at thirty-eight, the headlines had read.
Her life was empty without him. Tears welled in her eyes.
“I loved this song.” Marcia stood in the doorway, a plate in her hand.
“One of their biggest.” Winston wiped away a tear.
Marcia walked closer. “You should turn that off and go out. You’re too young to close yourself off with old memories.”
“Where would I go? And who with?”
“Call Jane. Maybe she’ll introduce you to someone.”
The gate buzzed. Marcia walked from the room. Her voice was a murmur as she spoke to someone over the intercom.
“Detective Charles Iverson is here.” Marcia said from the doorway. “You want me to get rid of him?”
“No. It’s okay.”
A few minutes later, she heard the door open, and footsteps head her way.
“Hey.” He stood beside the reclining sofa. “I heard you got into an altercation earlier. Thought I’d stop by and check on you.”
“Just got knocked over.” She motioned with her hand for him to have a seat.
“Not hurt?”
“My ego more than anything.” As a teen, she’d learned to take care of herself, fight off gang members and pimps. Yet now, she couldn’t even take on some guy running from a house. She’d gotten soft. “I’m just glad Pamela hadn’t been hurt.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t worse for either of you.” He looked up at the screen. “I remember seeing this concert on television. I loved these small performances.”
“Me, too.”
“Is that you?” He pointed to the screen.
“Yeah. Quite a few years back.”
“I still find it hard to believe you tossed a naked woman from your house. You just don’t seem the type.”
Sadness swept through Winston. Now it seemed so petty. “I knew Steve slept around, but when he did it in my bed, I blew a gasket.” Two days later that same woman killed Steve.
Singing a love song, Steve walked down the stairs from the stage to Winston where he pulled her up from the audience and danced with her during a break in the vocals.
“You can tell from the look in his eye, he really loved you.”
Winston stared at the screen. Yes, he did. She had yet to figure out why.
Chapter 21
Dinner was over, and the kids were in their rooms. Cam was downstairs watching something on television. Jane settled at the desk in her bedroom and read through news and police reports on the initial case.
She scanned the Circuit Court website for anything on Pamela. Just one speeding ticket. Nothing else to indicate she would shoot her husband or be involved in something to bring this type of violence into her life.
She appeared to be just a regular person caught up in a nightmare.
Jane next pulled out the list of names from the drivers’ licenses she’d discovered. Joseph Toomey and Dale Connors licenses were from Georgia. Both the addresses listed were in Atlanta. Abbot French was from Chattanooga, and Randolph Smirnov from Orlando.
She pulled up Google and did a search for the name Toomey. Several news stories came up regarding a guy who’d died in a hit-and-run. She clicked on the obituary in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. He’d joined the Navy out of high school and was thirty-six when he was killed. His only living relative was a sister named Amanda Solis.
Jane punched up another screen and searched for Amanda Solis in Atlanta, finding a social media account. She sent her an instant message, requesting to speak with her about her brother.
Several pictures were on the album page. There were friends and family members, including several of Joseph wearing his white uniform. The most recent picture had him sitting in what looked like a garage, smoking a cigarette and a beer in his hand. He was unshaven and his hair was long and scraggly. The other two men in the picture had nothing to indicate who they were.
Jane next searched Dale Connors. With the common name, several news articles popped up. A quick skim said most were not the guy she was looking for because the ages were wrong, but then she found a listing for a 32-year-old homeless man. He’d also been the victim of a hit-and-run. No family listed, and no obituary in the loc
al paper. Not unusual for someone homeless. Reading through a few news articles, she found nothing more. Either the police had made no arrest in his case or no one cared to report it.
She paused. Hit-and-run? Toomey died in a hit-and-run also. She returned to the news stories on Toomey. Coincidence?
Maybe this was a common occurrence for homeless people.
The search on Abbott French produced a homeless man, age thirty-three. Killed in a hit-and-run six months ago in Chattanooga. She took down the names of his family in the obituary, including a mother. Turned out she was a real estate agent in the area. Jane called the number from the website and got her voicemail which was expected after eight in the evening. She left a message giving both her phone and email address. Some people preferred connecting through email first to find out what she wanted.
It was too much of a coincidence for all three men to have died the same way.
Cam walked in and put his hands on her shoulders. “What ya doing?” He leaned down and kissed her neck.
Her body heated fast. “Research.”
“I’m going to take a shower, then head to bed. Would love for you to join me.”
“Sounds good.”
He kissed the top of her head. She watched him walk to the bathroom. A smile came over her face. She never thought she’d ever marry. Being the oldest when Dad died, she’d devoted herself to helping Mom with the others. Her dream of going into the military had become just that, a dream, until Mom insisted. So, Jane joined the Navy. She sent home some of her pay every month to help with the bills until Mom explained about the sizeable life insurance policy Dad had left her.
Jane met Cam the year before she got out of the military.
That was almost fifteen years ago, and she still loved feeling his body next to hers. From what her friends told her she had an excellent sex life. It helped she found her husband just as attractive today as when she first met him.
In every way, she was a normal mother and wife. She just happened to shoot a gun better than most.
Chasing a Dead Man Page 10