It wasn’t going to look good that he waited so long to come forward, he reasoned, lifting the ax from the tree stump. Regardless, he would undoubtedly lose his job.
His ears perked at a rumbling sound.
A few squirrels scattered about as if they were frightened. Was someone there?
William strained his ears again and swore he heard the crunch of gravel.
With the ax his hand, he rushed back to the house.
William bolted through the back door and scrambled to the kitchen. Josie still hadn’t come down. He hurried to the front door and glanced out of the peephole, but his heart dropped at the sight of the two menacing goons on the other side of the door.
Chapter 27
Ming and her team of police officers were welcomed to the Turner residence by the red-eyed widow. It was near noon, but Trisha answered the door wrapped in a pink robe and a pair of matching fuzzy house shoes. Despite the woman’s swollen eyes and glowing nose, Ming thought the forty-something socialite was still a striking woman.
“Morning, Mrs. Turner.” Ming went through the formality of flashing her identification, but Trisha hardly spared it a glance.
“Come on in.” Trisha stepped back and allowed Ming and her four companions entry. “Please excuse the mess, but I haven’t had time to straighten up.”
Ming moved into the foyer and glanced around. What was the woman talking about? The place was immaculate. “I know this is a hard time for you. We appreciate your help in this case.”
Trisha shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the mini-speech, and then lead the way to a handsome office. Three of the four lengthy walls were decked floor-to-ceiling with cherry-wood bookcases. The shelves were packed tight with books bounded in expensive leather, and the polished floor showcased the most beautiful Oriental rug Ming had every seen.
“This is nice,” Ming said, easing into the room. “This is where your husband worked?”
Again, Trisha shrugged. “He always said that he worked better in here than he did at Keystone,” she said. “Fewer interruptions.”
Ming noted that the widow’s tag dripped with sarcasm. Moments like these were always difficult.
Ming’s small entourage slid on latex gloves and promptly dispersed throughout the room.
Apparently, the sight of the officers dismantling her husband’s office proved too much for Trisha, as she turned and walked away.
Hesitant, Ming drew a deep breath and followed her. “Are you all right, Mrs. Turner?”
“Trisha. Please call me Trisha or by my maiden name Strauss.”
The correction told Ming a great deal about the widow’s state of mind. It also warned her to proceed with caution. “I hate to have to ask you…”
“You want the file.” Trisha made a beeline to a bar in another spacious room decorated completely in white.
“Yes, ma’am. If it’s not too much trouble.” Rich people lived on a whole other level, Ming thought as she absorbed her surroundings.
“No trouble at all.” Trisha slapped a thick manila folder onto the bar’s counter, and then promptly mixed herself a drink. “Can I get you anything?”
“Sorry. I’m on duty.” Ming joined her at the counter and then slid onto a wrought-iron barstool.
“Well, I
Ming nodded and opened the folder. The first thing to greet her were bold black-and-white photos of Andrews straddling Dr. Turner in the driver’s seat of a shiny, silver Mercedes.
“I’m assuming they were parked,” Trisha said, with a deep measure of disgust.
There were several more shots of the uninhibited lovers in the car, but those were soon replaced with ones of them making out by a pool. “If you’re wondering, that’s our pool.” “He brought her here?” Ming asked before she could stop herself. “A bold bastard, wasn’t he?” Trisha took another sip of her drink. “And I stayed with him. How pathetic is that?”
Ming reached across the bar and gave the distraught woman’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “Life isn’t over. You’ll get through this.”
Trisha met Ming’s stare as a new wave of tears brimmed her eyes. “Are you married, Detective Delaney?”
Lifting her hand, Ming flashed her modest wedding ring. “Three years this December.”
“Hell, you’re still newlyweds.” A sardonic smile hugged Trisha’s lips. “You’re probably still having sex in every room of the house.”
Ming nearly choked on her laughter. “I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”
One of Trisha’s neatly manicured eyebrows rose. “Well, let me impart one thing I’ve learned in my disastrous marriage. Men are like houseplants.”
Caught off guard, Ming’s expression of interest collapsed into a frown. “A houseplant?”
Trisha allowed herself another smile. “They need constant attention, sunshine, water, and nurturing. You neglect any of those things, and they’ll plant themselves in someone else’s pot, if you know what I mean.”
Ming’s thoughts instantly flew to her often-busy schedule and her dwindling sex drive. Hadn’t she just fallen asleep on Conan the other night? “I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Their conversation ended at the sound of approaching footsteps. Det. Jorge Hernandez filled the room’s entryway. “Det. Delaney, may I speak with you for a minute?” “Certainly.” Ming hopped off the barstool and gathered everything back into the folder. “Take it. I don’t want it anymore,” Trisha said, and continued to nurse her drink. “Thanks.” Ming left the bar and walked across a white plush carpet to join her colleague at the door. “Do we have something?” Hernandez escorted her away from the door. “We found a .45 Para CCW hidden in a hollowed-out book.” “Bancroft was shot with the same type of weapon.” Hernandez nodded. “Figured you might want to take a look at it.” Ming dug her cell out of her pants pocket. “I better get the crime lab up here. We may have just found our murderer.”
#
Michelle left D’Angelo more than satisfied; and by the time it was all said and done, she’d also bargained to have a few of his men for security. Two large, black males trailed behind her. Their presence elevated her confidence; not that it needed it, but she felt that she was back on track.
In retrospect, she should’ve contacted D’Angelo.
Who knows? Maybe you could think of a way to get rid of him before you leave town.
Michelle smiled at the thought as she glided out of the back office and maneuvered through a busy boutique at Underground Atlanta. Minutes later, she slid behind the wheel of a red Jaguar and waited for her new security to show up before she pulled out. From across the parkway, Det. Simmons returned to his own car and watched everything with keen interest. “What are you up to, Andrews?” He grabbed his cell phone and quickly punched in Ming’s number as he started up his car. “You were my next call,” Ming said, before Tyrese had the chance to speak. “Well, you’re always on my mind, too.” Tyrese chuckled, but quickly grew serious again. “I think I have something.” “Same here. You first.” “Castellan’s.” “What, the boutique store?” “Yeah. You know who runs it, don’t you?” “A pain in the neck, D’Angelo.” “Bingo. Andrews just left his place and came out with a matching pair of goons.” Ming sighed. “We already interviewed him about the Thornton case. Him being Daniel’s friend and all.” “Maybe we didn’t ask the right questions.” “I’ll get him back in for more questioning. Are you still following Andrews?” “I’m on her like white on rice.” “Good. Now, it’s my turn to tell you what I’ve found.”
#
William only had a few seconds to make a decision. With wood burning in the fireplace and the Lincoln Navigator parked in the cul-de-sac, there was no point in pretending that no one was home.
One of the men pounded on the door and rang the bell simultaneously. From behind him, William heard
