Bob moved his chair back from his desk in shock
and it came to an abrupt halt against something on the floor. He looked down. One of the castors on the
swivel chair was wedged under some of the files he had placed on the floor. He leaned down and picked up the offending items. He looked at the names on the file covers—they read Joshua Michaels and Margaret
Macey. He had removed the files to show them to
James Mitchell.
Josh groaned when the telephone on the bedside table rang. Cursing, he reached across for it. The digital clock radio displayed the time—12:01 A.M.; he had been asleep less than half an hour. Kate stirred in the bed next to him.
“Hello,” he said sleepily.
“Josh, it’s me,” the excited voice said.
“Bob?”
“I’ve found something. Margaret Macey is a client and you two are connected.”
“What?” Josh sat bolt upright, taking the comforter with him. The sleep that had fogged his mind burned away like a morning mist.
“Josh, what’s going on?” Kate asked, disturbed by the phone, then by her husband stealing the covers.
Josh stuffed the phone into the bedclothes for privacy.
“Honey, go back to sleep. It’s Bob and he has got something on that woman the cops say I threatened.”
“Oh, Jesus, Josh. Leave it alone. This household has been in enough turmoil over the last two weeks without you looking for more.”
“I’ll tell you what he knows. Go back to sleep.” Josh put the phone to his ear. “Bob, I’m going to change phones, hold on.”
Josh got out of bed and slipped into a pair of shorts.
He wondered if Bob had something that made sense of the situation he was being drawn into. Was there finally a beacon in the night leading him to safe waters?
“Honey, will you put the phone down when I pick it up downstairs?”
Kate nodded, taking the phone from him, and
started interrogating Bob on what he was doing.
Josh rushed downstairs in the darkness and switched on the lights. He took the cordless in the living room.
Kate put the receiver down.
“What did you find out?” Josh asked.
“Margaret Macey is a seventy-seven-year-old woman living over in the rough part of downtown. And she had a life insurance policy with me,” Bob said.
“She had?” Josh paced. He went from the living room to the dining room to the kitchen to the hall and back to the living room, switching lights on as he went. Disapprovingly, Wiener looked up from his bed in the
kitchen. Josh couldn’t be still when he was excited.
“Yeah. Like you, she made a viatical settlement and I was the agent.”
“She sold her life insurance. When?”
“About this time two years ago.”
He wasn’t getting information quick enough; it was maddening—he wanted to scream. Who did she sell the insurance policy to? The fear grew within him that he already knew the answer. Josh paced even faster, as if to outrun his anxiety, and threatened to cut a groove in the carpets and floorboards. “Who to, Bob?”
“Our good friends at Pinnacle Investments.”
He was right and hated it. Patterns were emerging.
The truth was presenting itself. But it wasn’t making any of this go away.
“I should have known,” Josh said. “You’ve got a
good memory to remember that, pal.”
“But that’s not the reason I remembered her.”
Invisible spider’s feet crawled up Josh’s spine. “What do you mean?”
“The reason why her name meant something was because I had her file out. When James Mitchell saw me,
he remarked on my past clients with Pinnacle Investments and he raised your name, Margaret Macey’s and
some other guy who died a couple of years ago. We discussed your files.”
Josh stopped pacing. James Mitchell was his would
184
be killer, and apparently Josh wasn’t the only one Mitchell had his sights on. But why? What was the point? The invisible spider crawled across his face.
Mitchell claimed he was an employee of Pinnacle Investments, but he wasn’t. Josh could hear the penny
dropping, but he didn’t know what he was getting for his money. “I’m not insane. That bastard wants to kill me and this woman, but for what possible gain?” Josh asked.
“You’ve got me, pal,” Bob said.
Josh started pacing again, this time faster. His mind worked through events as he lapped the first floor of his home at a brisk pace. Wiener, fascinated by his master’s actions, joined him on his walk. “He must have used the phone here to call Margaret Macey. I gave him the chance when I told him about Pinnacle Investments sending the wreath.”
“He’s got some balls on him—big brass ones. You’ve got to admit that,” Bob said.
Josh agreed. He couldn’t deny it, but he didn’t have to like it. The man had been in his home and committed a crime for which Josh was now the primary suspect.
“But why use your phone?” Bob said.
“God knows. Maybe he didn’t expect Margaret Macey or me to be in any state to get the cops involved.”
“Maybe. It all sounds risky.”
“Only if it doesn’t work.”
“And it hasn’t so far,” Bob said. “Where do we go from here?”
Josh thought. The answer was to the cops. The more menacing this situation became, the more he knew he was out of his depth. Also, it was an opportunity to stick it to that disbelieving bastard Brady. That would be especially sweet. He now had a reason for his telephone number to be on Margaret Macey’s telephone
records. It was his chance to get the police off his back and prompt an investigation into James Mitchell.
“I’ll talk to the two officers who were here and at the hospital. I’ll tell them that not only did James Mitchell run me off the road, but that he had been checking up on Margaret Macey and me, then came to my party
and made the phone call to Margaret while he was
here,” Josh said.
“You’re forgetting he doesn’t exist. We couldn’t find him. If these two cops think you’re their man, they won’t really give a shit about this invisible man.
They’ll think it’s a bullshit story to get you off the hook,” Bob said.
“But they have nothing better on me. Suddenly I decide to call a woman I have never met and threaten to
kill her? What sort of case is that to convict on?” Josh asked. He knew Bob had his best interests at heart. Bob was right—the police could dismiss him for putting up a smokescreen. Nevertheless, he knew he needed to apprise the authorities of the latest developments.
“I don’t know,” Bob said.
“I’ll see the cops in the morning,” Josh restated.
“No, don’t.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“I’ll go to the cops. I’ll tell them I had James Mitchell at my office. I have a record of his appointment and Maria saw him. And I’ll tell them he made a call from your house and that you believe that he was the man on the bridge,” Bob said.
Josh paced in silence, considering Bob’s offer. “Okay.
