Professor blinked back the tears in his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“Where is this journal now?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m positive I put it back in her drawer, but it wasn’t there a few weeks later when I went to read more.”
“When was this?”
“At least four years ago, maybe more.”
“Weren’t you curious to know what happened to it?”
“I saw it as a sign from my wife not to read any further.”
She rubbed the top of his hand, knowing all too well how a grieving mind can twist reality. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I’m sure you’re right in thinking that.”
He smiled. “Your job shows the ugly side of mankind, as did my sweet Pauline’s. Don’t let it get the best of you.”
Becca envied the love he and his wife shared and couldn’t imagine the profound loss of being left behind. The caretaker arrived with tea just as she was leaving.
“Hey, there you are.” Randy descended the grand staircase. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, I’m good.” The rain had stopped and she now squinted against the sun shining into the foyer. “Tell everyone to keep their eyes open for his wife’s journal. Apparently she sat in her sitting room and wrote in it every night. It went missing over four years ago. There might even be a small collection of them.”
“Listen, I’m going to step outside for a breath of fresh air. I take it you have everything under control here?”
“Don’t go far.”
Becca put two fingers to her temple in a salute. “Yes, sir!”
Chapter Nineteen
The make-up artist lay on the ground, a single gunshot to his forehead. The guy really did a great job, but he couldn’t chance him leaking his new identity to anyone.
It took a few seconds to change the message on his answering machine.
Thank goodness his keys were on a side table. He didn’t relish the thought of having to put his hand in his pants pocket. He dragged the body to the bathroom and hoisted it up and over in the tub, drawing the curtain closed behind him once he’d finished.
Outside, the rain had stopped, and the sun streamed through a break in the clouds. He glanced around before dropping the artist’s set of keys into the waste bin.
A glimpse in a store window made him stop and smooth the moustache under his nose. It felt a little odd, having never been able to grow one. He’d tried many times, but it simply wasn’t in his genes.
It took the better part of the day hanging out in the streets before he spotted the dealer and casually swaggered over to where he stood.
The tall, tattooed man eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want?”
He managed to convince the guy to step into an alley.
“I need a shot of blocker. Can you help?”
The dealer narrowed his eyes and looked down his nose at him. “What do you need that for?”
“That’s my business. Can you do it or not? I’ll pay double your usual asking price.” He peeled off a few hundred from the roll of bills he pulled out of his pocket and held the money out to him. With his free hand, he covered the gun stuffed down the waistline of his pants. “I’ll give you the same amount when you hand over what I need.”
The dealer stepped back, laughing. “How do you know I won’t kick your ass and take that wad of cash?”
He glared at the man, staring intently into his eyes. “By the time you take one step toward me, I’d put a bullet in your head.” He lifted his shirt enough to show his piece.
The dealer held up his hands. “Whoa, buddy. No need for any of that shit.”
“Can you do it or not?”
“Of course I can. Why don’t you go have a cup of coffee at that shop across the road? Sit at the bar. I’ll be there shortly.”
He gave him a curt nod before crossing the street.
Randy stood with his back to the wall and lifted the edge of the curtain slightly. Becca stood at the end of the long driveway talking to Jacob. If she saw him checking up on her she’d freak, but if his hunch was right, there was a very real possibility the killer watched their every move.
News of the missing journal prompted the team to start from scratch. It always bode well to have an object in mind when conducting a search.
“Hey, Randy, come take a look at this.” One of the officers called out to him from the top of the staircase.
Randy’s heartbeat fluttered as he climbed the staircase two steps at a time. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if the wind had whispered across it.
The officer ushered him through the master bedroom to a door off to the side. “What is this?”
“It’s the doc’s sitting room.”
A strong sense of intruding caused him to pause in the doorway. He shuddered involuntarily, a little spooked to see the woman’s things exactly how she’d left them five years ago. Given the layer of dust coating everything, it didn’t look like the professor ever let his staff in to clean.
“Mable? Do you think you can spare a minute or two so I can ask you a couple of questions?”
The woman looked up at him, a stack of freshly laundered towels in her hand. “Yes, just let me put these away first.”
The housekeeper waddled up the hallway and disappeared into the master en-suite. Seconds later, she reappeared and he crossed the distance between them.
“Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?”
“Come to the kitchen with me. I’ll pour you some tea and I can finish preparations for the professor’s supper.”
Randy welcomed the reprieve and sat on a chair at a huge island in the well-organized kitchen. The aroma drifting over from a big pot on the stove set his stomach growling.
“That smells pretty good.”
The housekeeper’s demeanor changed with the compliment, her eyes bright and alive. “Do you like soup?”
He nodded.
“Here, I’ll give you some and you can talk.”
He didn’t argue, practically drooling when she put a steaming bowl and two wedges of bread slathered in butter in front of him.
“Thank you.”
She smiled.
“How long have you worked here?” He dipped a corner of his bread in the dark broth. A medley of beef and vegetables exploded in his mouth. “Oh...now this is good soup.”
Mable giggled. “Thank you, it’s the professor’s favourite. I’ve been here for over twenty years now.”
He looked up briefly. “So you knew his wife?”
“The doctor was an angel. Oh, how she loved her husband. They shared the kind of love you see in movies.” She sniffled. “He isn’t the same man he once was. It’s like something went missing the day she died. Sadly, he loses his will to carry on the more time goes by without her.”
She took a picture down from the wall and passed it to him.
Randy saw what she meant. The professor in the picture was tall and proud, a hand lovingly resting on his
