Act V (22 page)

Graham wanted the best thing for his
company. He’d built it from a tiny, single four-table restaurant
thirty-five years ago to a regional chain that competed seriously
with Pizza Hut, Dominos and Papa John’s. The pizza was better
too.

Yes, his stepson was going to have to
shape up before he could take over. Graham had thought about
teaching his wife the business, but she was involved in her own
thing, the boutique. It was a woman’s business if ever there was
one. If he died and left the chain to her, without involving Dylan,
she’d sell it and pocket the profits in a second. He couldn’t just
leave it to Dylan either. He had to give them both a reason to keep
the business going. That was why he’d gone back to his lawyer with
yet another change in the will. No, he’d worked too hard to build
this business and accomplish his goals. He wasn’t letting his wife
and incompetent step-son, or anybody else, get in the
way.

*****

Sandra Fitchwell was staring into a
mirror searching for new lines on her face. This was a young
woman’s game. If she didn’t achieve anchor in the next few years,
she would be too old. No one wanted to watch real life on the
evening news. They wanted glamour, youth, excitement. She would
have the anchor job soon or she would have nothing. It had been a
trying day. Dealing with Gearhart and Paddix had left her drained
and feeling battle worn. She still had a conscience, not a great
one but she still had one. If the opportunity occurred to make
headlines with more direct contact with the killer, what would she
do? She was leaving for the night when her desk phone rang. “News
Four, Sandra Fitchwell,” she answered automatically.

“
Ms. Fitchwell,” a muffled
voice responded. “Let me congratulate you on the fine work you’ve
been doing as of late. I was hoping you would be able to fill me in
on some of the information you left out of your report.”

“
Who is this?”

“
I think you already know.
Don’t bother to have the call traced. This is a disposable phone
and I’ll toss it in a few minutes.”

Sandra clicked the record button on the
mini-recorder she kept attached to her phone to help her with
scoops and crazies. She might not be able to trace this call but
she would surely get a record of it. “I wouldn’t consider tracing
it anyway. What did you call about?”

“
A little tit for tat, so to
speak. I want to know the name of the psychic the police have been
consulting. In return I’ll give you an exclusive with the most
notorious killer this state has ever known.”

Sandra was silent. She couldn’t have
answered if she’d known what to say. It was one thing to go for the
spotlight, but she couldn’t just hand over the name of the woman
who could have information about the killer. She would be a dead
woman. That was more guilt than Sandra was willing to deal with,
even if it meant getting her the anchor job.

The voice on the other end was becoming
impatient. “Ms. Fitchwell? Are you there?”

“
Look, I’d love to get that
exclusive from you, but I don’t know the name of the psychic if
there is one. Detective Gearhart says there isn’t.”

“
He does, does he? Well he
would know, wouldn’t he? It’s been lovely talking to you, Ms.
Fitchwell. I hope to meet you in person very soon.” He hung
up.

For the first time in her life, Sandra
Fitchwell didn’t know what to do next. She felt soiled as if she
had been rolling around in filth, but mostly, she felt
scared.

*****

He hung up the phone and
smiled. She was lying, but he’d handle it. “You’ll be next on my
list, Sandra. But first things first.” What had his granddaddy
always said?
There’s more than one way to
skin a cat.
He made a quick phone call on
his disposable, then drove to the police station to wait for
Detective Brice Gearhart to leave. It didn’t take a genius to add
two and two.

*****

Glynnis was exhausted. They
were only two weeks away from opening and rehearsals were intense.
The sun made it even more difficult. The good thing was that once
they opened, they would be performing evenings when it was cooler
outdoors. She hopped in the car and headed for home. She had
promised Brice that they’d rent Romeo and Juliet along with a
couple of other tragedies so that he could refresh his memory.
They’d never gotten around to it the other day. She stopped by the
grocery store to pick up a box of microwave popcorn and a six pack.
She had already pulled the Olivia Hussey version of
Romeo and Juliet
from her
private collection, because she hated the DiCaprio one. It was so
full of modern day gang violence that the romance took a back seat.
There were others available online of course, but this one was on
her shelf and it was fine for a refresher. She also stopped to pick
up cheeseburgers and fries at Pete’s Drive-in. She wasn’t sure why
they still called it that, because nobody drove in anymore,
everyone went inside.

By the time she got home, Brice was
waiting in the driveway. He gave her a quick peck and they went
inside. “I need to walk Carl,” she said. “Why don’t you put the
food on the table and I’ll be right back.”

“
I have a better idea,” he
told her. “Let me walk Carl. I want to do a quick run around the
neighborhood anyway.”

“
Brice, you don’t
think…”

“
Just being careful. See you
in a minute.”

*****

But he wasn’t just being careful. All
the way to Glynn’s house he’d had the feeling he was being
followed. He’d checked his rearview over and over but could find
nothing to support it. Still, he couldn’t chance it. He took
several turns and spent more time than he would have getting there.
Once, he thought he saw a blue Mercedes taking two consecutive
turns, just three cars behind him, but he couldn’t be certain. He’d
finally decided he was being paranoid and headed to see
Glynnis.

When she’d mentioned walking Carl,
Brice had grabbed the chance to canvas the neighborhood. But
everything looked normal. No blue Mercedes. “Looks like you’re the
only hound dog out here, boy. Why don’t you do your business so
that we can get back?” Carl, who didn’t look a thing like a hound
dog, did exactly that. Then they went to the house.

*****

He pulled away from the curb two blocks
from where Gearhart had parked when he saw the man walk out the
door with the dog on a leash. Gearhart, in front of him the whole
time, had never seen him. He would do some more checking, but he
was almost certain she was the psychic. How else would she have
gotten together with Gearhart? He drove home knowing exactly how he
could find out.

*****

Rome and Juliet
was, as always, sweet and fiercely sad. She dabbed
away a tear at the end, not wanting Brice to catch her crying.
“Well, did that help?” she asked when she could talk without
blubbering.

“
I guess. I mean, I remember
most of it now. There’s just something about the death scene that’s
not clicking with the crime scene yet.”

“
Sorry, wish I could do more
to help.”

Brice’s cell phone rang and he flipped
it open. “Gearhart.”

“
Brice, it’s me, Leslie
Handy. I know you’re off duty, but I thought you’d want to hear
what just came in. We’ve got a recording of the guy’s voice. At
least I think it’s him. Can you come back to the
station?”

“
Sure thing. I’m bringing
somebody with me though.”

“
The Nuckolls
woman?”

“
Does everybody know about
that?”

“
Pretty much.”

“
I just don’t feel right
about leaving her alone right now.”

“
That makes sense,
especially after that lovely news cast. Bring her on, but you know
she’ll have to stay out in the lobby until we decide what goes
public and what doesn’t.”

“
Deal. I’ll call
Addison.”

*****

Handy and Hawkins met the three of them
in the lobby. “Ms. Nuckolls,” Hawkins took her by the arm and
showed her to a chair, “could you wait out here for a few minutes?
Dorothy over there would love to get you some coffee.” She
indicated the night desk officer.

Brice looked at her with
anxiety.

“
Don’t worry,” she
whispered. “I’m fine.”

The four detectives moved to the back
conference room where Brice was surprised to see Sandra Fitchwell
sitting at the table holding a mini cassette recorder.

He and Addy looked questioningly at
Handy and Hawkins. “What’s up?” Addy wanted to know. “We just
questioned Ms. Fitchwell.” He almost spat her name.

“
Yeah, we know,” Hawkins
told him, “but there’s a new twist. Ms. Fitchwell received a phone
call tonight before she left the studio.” He turned to the
frightened woman. “Why don’t you play it for them?”

She tapped the play button and the
syrupy, muffled voice began to speak, chilling Brice when he heard
what the voice requested. “You didn’t…” He yelled.

She pressed the pause button. “Of
course not. I’m ambitious, not downright evil. Why do you think I’m
here?”

Brice calmed and felt just a little
sheepish. “Sorry, I’m just…”

She ignored him and played the rest.
When he promised to see Fitchwell soon, Brice felt another chill.
“Do you think it was a threat?”

“
I don’t know. Maybe he just
meant that he wanted me to continue to give him the press he
wants.”

“
Maybe,” Handy told her,
“but just the same, don’t go anywhere alone.”

Brice, suffering from a bout of
contrition said, “Sandra, thanks for bringing it in. We’ll try a
voice analysis on it but I doubt it will help much. It only works
when you have something to compare it to.”

“
Might come in handy
though,” Addison told her. “At least we know where his head
is.”

“
Yeah,” said Brice, “And we
can guard against it.”

*****

Glynnis watched as Sandra Fitchwell
walked past, visibly shaken. She paused for just a moment when she
saw Glynnis, but then hurried away followed by Handy and Hawkins.
Brice and Addy came out next. They were deep in a serious
discussion but stopped when they saw Glynnis.

Addy nodded toward the door. “They’re
following her home to make sure everything is okay. You take
Glynnis home and stay with her. Or would you rather I take that
one?” He grinned and Glynnis felt a little lighter.

Brice pulled her up and guided her
toward the door. “I think I can handle it.”

*****

In the car, Brice told Glynnis about
the tape.

“
Oh no, Brice. I knew he’d
come after me sooner or later, but this is terrifying.”

He patted her knee. “I know. I’m just
as frightened as you are. But I won’t let anything happen to you. I
promise. Thanks to Sandra, he doesn’t know your name
yet.”

“
But it won’t take too much
asking around to find out.”

“
I don’t think he’ll ask
around. He doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s looking for
you.”

“
Maybe.”

“
Are you sure that Timmons
doesn’t know about your dreams?”

“
I’m sure.”

“
What about Shultz?” he
asked as an afterthought.

“
Only a handful of people
know besides the whole police department.”

Brice grimaced. The whole situation was
a pain. He didn’t even tell her the worst part, though he’d
mentioned it to Addy before they left. The worst part was that
Brice had recognized the voice from somewhere. The caller had
intentionally muffled his voice, but Brice had still caught a
familiar tone. He just couldn’t put it with a name or a face, but
he would sooner or later. Hopefully it wouldn’t be
later.

*****

The time was approaching and he
couldn’t risk being found out, especially this close to fulfilling
his goal. He had to find the psychic and do away with her. As much
as he hated to ruin his favorite source of publicity, he would take
care of it tomorrow. She would tell him who the psychic was, then
he’d be rid of her.

Chapter 19

Glynnis had spent the night in Brice’s
arms. He had double-checked the locks, made sure the outside lights
were on and insisted that she relax in the tub before bed. She
opted for a shower instead and wondered if he might decide to join
her, but he didn’t. Brice was a man on a mission. When she climbed
into the bed, he climbed in behind her and just held her. It was
the most comforting thing he could have done and she had slept
through the night.

In the morning they had parted ways,
Brice to go home for a change of clothes and then to work, and
Glynnis to rehearsal. Brice had kissed her before leaving. “Glynn,
he began, not meeting her eyes, “I want you to know that it’s going
to be a tough day. We have to follow up on the call to Sandra
Fitchwell, and we may have to interview Timmons and Shultz again. I
don’t want you to be surprised if it happens.”