and along came SPIDER ( A Martina Spalding Thriller ) (Spider Series Book 1) (6 page)

Marti instantly puffed
up, “Well, I know someone that knows him…  Curiosity I guess.  I just wanted to
see what he looked like.  You have nothing here with a picture?”

“Why bother with a
picture when you can see him in the flesh, most any day of the week, right next
door at the Koffee Building.  He’s got an office there on the second floor.”

“Would he be at the
office on a Saturday?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know
about that,” Gwyn said, then began looking around the huge room, as if wanting
to be rid of her now.

“Okay.  Well then,
thank you, Mrs. Raizel.  You’ve been very helpful.” Marti said, took the hint
and quickly turned away.

“I didn’t catch your
name?” the old woman called after her.

“Martina!” she said
over her shoulder and kept moving.

“I know where he
lives!” the old woman called, apparently having a change of heart.

Hearing that, Marti
turned back to her, hesitated briefly, then, seeing the urgency on Gwyn’s face,
walked the few steps back to her.

“It’s my coffee break,”
she said, gathering her satchel-like purse and stepping from the cubicle. 
“Follow me!”

Before long, they were
at a coffee shop across the street from the library and soon seated at a table
by the front windows.  “Here is where I sit near every day during lunch break. 
And most generally I see Raym, at some point, come from that building over
there and walk to his car in that parking lot next door.”

Marti studied the
ancient two story building across the street.  Engraved in stone at the very
top was: “KOFFEE 1875.”  Apparently, that building and the library were built
the same year, she mused.  “How am I going to know it’s him, when I don’t know
what he looks like?”

“I’m getting to that.” 
Gwyn lifted her huge purse to her lap and began digging through it.  To get to
the bottom, she pulled out a camera with a small telephoto lens attached and
laid it on the table.

A waitress came with a
pot of coffee and two cups.  “Still snapping pictures of passersby, Gwyn?”

“No.  I keep forgetting
to leave it at home.  I don’t think there’s even film in it.”  Gwyn picked up
the camera for a quick look, then put it down again as if her suspicion was
confirmed.

The waitress poured the
coffee.  “Can I get either of you a pastry or danish?”

Marti’s eyes went to
Gwyn, who didn’t seem to hear as she sorted through her purse.

Then, “Nothing more for me, Rose,” came from her, as
if she was too busy to be bothered.

“Can I get one of the
apple turnovers to go?” Marti said, having seen how delicious they looked on
the way in, and thought immediately of Gloria.  Perhaps a gift of one would
serve to cheer her some, in her state of depression. 

“Of course,” Rose said,
and left the table.

“Here they are!”  Gwyn
brought out a dog eared manila envelope and from it produced a pile of photos
and other items.  Her boney fingers then sorted through the mess.  “Here’s one
of the more recent ones.”

Marti took the photo
and studied the two people in it.  One was of a sandy haired man in his
forties.  His arm was around a much younger blond woman.  Above all, however,
the photo was distant and a bit out of focus.  The only thing certain was it
had been taken with the Koffee building in the background.

“Who’s the woman?”
Marti asked.

“That’s Raym’s new
wife.  Her name is Sheela, spelled with double E’s.  I read all about the
marriage in the Post Dispatch.”

“Was there a picture?”
Marti was quick to ask.

“I clipped it out.” 
Gwyn’s fingers went right to it and pulled it from the pile.

This was more like it,
Marti thought.  Finally, here was a respectable picture of the bastard himself,
along with his rather mousey looking blonde wife.  From this she could see Raym
wore a mustache, something not visible in the other photograph.  And he had
piercing eyes, also not noticeable in the other photo.  Haunting, she told
herself, burning the image of him into her brain.

“This is the article
about my granddaughter’s murder.  I don’t know why I still carry this stuff
around with me.  Obsessed, I guess.”  Gwyn handed the numerous clippings over. 
“Look, Martina, if you want to take all this stuff, go ahead.  You can return
it to me at the library when you’re finished with it, if you want.”

Marti looked up to the
sad old face before her.  “Why are you doing this, Gwyn?  I mean, you don’t
even know me.”

“Well, because you were
interested.  You seem like a nice young girl.  And, to be frank, you kind of
remind me of my granddaughter, when she was your age,” she said, tears flooding
her tired old eyes.

“Oh, Gwyn, I do feel
your pain.”  Marti took her hand across the table, feeling her eyes misting up
as well.  “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but something good may come of
this.”

“In what way?” Gwyn
said, feebly brushing tears away.

“Well, something or
someone mysteriously brought us together.  Only good can come from that,
right?” Marti said cheerfully.

“I’m not even going to
ask what you mean by that remark.”  Gwyn began tossing things back into her
purse.  “But if you’re out to prove Raym killed my Susannah, then power to
you.”

“Let’s just say, you
and I are on the same side of this.  Okay, Gwyn?”

“Okay.”  She came up
from the table and planted a kiss on Marti’s forehead.  “I’ll be praying for
you, dear.”

“Me too,” Marti said
and watched her walk away.  She then quickly gathered all the stuff Gwyn had
left her back into the envelope and put that in her purse.  After paying out,
she hurried to her car.  Not only was she anxious to look through everything,
she was concerned about Gloria being alone at the apartment.  Two more stops
and five flights of stairs would get her there inside an hour, she estimated.

CHAPTER
TEN

Marti knocked at the
door for a period of several minutes before she heard the chain come off and
the two locks turn, allowing her entry.

“I was in the shower,”
Gloria said, apologetically.  She was in her robe, a towel wrapped about her
head.

“I brought burgers and
fries for our lunch,” Martina said, marching through to the table.  “And for
your sweet tooth, I have a delicious looking apple turnover.”

“Thanks, Martina.  You
didn’t have to do that.  I can cook, you know.”

“Well then, you must be
feeling better.  That’s good news.”  Marti got plates, took the bag and drew
wax paper wrapped burgers, cardboard trays of fries, and two bottles of Coca
Cola from it.

“Didn’t you forget
something?” Gloria asked as she sat up to the table.

“What?”  Marti looked
about the table for what could be missing.

“I thought you went out
to buy some new undies, for the maiden voyage tonight.”

“Oh, Gloria!”

“Say, I have a pair of
cherry red bloomers and matching bra I could loan you.”  Gloria took a bite of
her hamburger, then spoke from the side of her mouth.  “They always look good
lying on the bedroom floor.”

“Gloria, have you been
drinking?”  Marti looked into her eyes for dilated pupils.

“No.  I haven’t.  I
found some Plaximin capsules I didn’t know I had.”  She smiled artificially. 

“You do know those
contain morphine?” Marti said, fixated on Gloria’s battered face.  “How many
did you take?”

“I don’t know.  Three
or four, I guess.”

“Will you promise me
you won’t take any more of those today?  You’ve already surpassed the
prescribed limit for one day,” Martina said concernedly.  “How’d you get those
anyway?  They’re only supposed to be given out in a supervised atmosphere, such
as a hospital.  And then only if monitored around the clock by nurses.”

“So you’re a nurse,
Martina.  Monitor me.”  She laughed giddily.

A half hour later,
Gloria went down for a nap, and Martina took the opportunity to go over the
stuff from Gwyn Raizel.  Of the thirty or so photos, it was clear Gwyn needed
some training in how to focus her camera.  They all included Raym except one,
and that was a picture of a house, perhaps Raym’s.  Otherwise she doubted it
would be here, since this was all about him.  Surprisingly, there was even one
photo that included Gloria, maybe from when they were still married.  However,
she didn’t look much different than she does now, as best Marti could see her.

There was a bunch of
newspaper clippings from both the St. Louis Post Dispatch and the East St.
Louis Times, concerning the murder of Susannah Raizel Koffee.  The articles
were a month over five years old.  Marti sorted them by newspaper and then
arranged them by date.  She started with the earliest Post Dispatch article. 
Then, when finished with that, she read the Times article of the same date.  In
the entirety of both articles, Raymond Koffee’s name had not been mentioned
once. 

Thinking that odd,
Marti went to the follow up stories printed the very next day.  In those, there
was a mention of Raym as being the ex-husband of the murdered woman, but
nothing more.  The only mention of a police investigation was in articles from
the East St. Louis Times, and they were sketchy.  Then, after three days of
this, no more was said on the part the East St. Louis police department.  In
fact, after that day no more was said period; that was the end of the
clippings.  Had Gwyn just stopped clipping them, or had the newspapers dropped
the story?  Somehow, with Gwyn’s obvious determination, Marti believed the
latter was true.  Perhaps the story was dropped because the investigation
itself had stopped.  Maybe there was not enough evidence to warrant continuing
it.  Or was there another reason?  After all, there was a prominent family
associated with the case.  Perhaps fearing further embarrassment, the Koffees
had applied some pressure in all the right places, causing the wheels of
justice to grind to a halt, Marti mused.

Once Martina had
gathered all of Gwyn’s material back into the envelope and put it away, she
focused her attention on the gun.  She’d purchased it at a pawn shop next door
to the café where she’d ordered the burgers to go.  It was a small 32 caliber
semi-automatic pistol, just the right size to carry almost anywhere and not be
readily noticed.  She took it from her purse now and loaded the nine shot clip
with bullets from a box of fifty that came with the gun.  When finished, she
re-inserted the clip into the butt of the small pistol and smacked it with the
palm of her hand, causing it to click into place.

Now that that was out
of the way and the pistol back in her purse, Marti’s thoughts shifted to Parker
McLean.  Last night she had agreed to meet him at Hannity’s at six and from
there he would take her to dinner.  “Someplace nice,” he had said.  The
question now was, how nice?  What should she wear?  Would slacks and a sweater
do or should she plan to wear a dress?  The more she thought about it, the less
at ease she became.  If it was a late night Parker had planned, no way could
she be away from here that long.  Dwelling on the horrors that could happen in
her absence, Marti came to the conclusion; it may be best if she just
canceled.  She wouldn’t be able to relax anyway.  And no way was she even going
to consider sex on a first date, although the thought of doing such a slutty
thing did excite her momentarily.

She remembered having
friends in high school that did those things, and they never resulted in any
lasting relationships.  Now the question arose, was Parker someone she may want
in her life for an extended period of time?  Perhaps, she concluded.  He was
nice.  And he was ruggedly good looking, with a muscular body to die for.

On second thought,
maybe she would meet Parker as planned, explain her dilemma, and play it by ear
from there.  Maybe he would agree to a quick dinner at a place nearby, just
this once, so she could be home at a decent hour.  Say before nine.  Now, if
she could get Gloria to promise to stay up and off the Plaxamin until she
returned, she may relax enough to pull it off and still have a little fun.  But
was it worth the risk?  If something should happen to Gloria in her absence,
she would never forgive herself.  And what of Raym Koffee?  What if he should
show up in her absence and somehow get at Gloria behind the locked door?

Perhaps her first
thought was the right one.  Maybe she should just stay home and put an end to
all the suspense.  With that thought on her mind, Marti went to check on
Gloria.  She found her still asleep on her bed and resting peacefully.  A quick
check of her pulse proved everything was presently normal in that department. 
The rest of her, however, was a sorry sight.  The skin discoloration over some
of the contusions visible on her near naked body seemed to be turning from milk
chocolate to a dark plum, which meant the initial shock taken from the kicks
and blows were much worse than originally ascertained.  God damned… that
bastard! Marti angered silently, and recovered Gloria with the sheet she had
carefully lifted for the visual examination. 

That sealed it!  No way
was she leaving her friend alone — for any amount of
time — tonight.  Parker McLean would just have to be put on hold
for another time.  With that thought in mind, she went to her purse where the
bar napkin was with Parker’s number jotted on it, and then headed for the phone
on the kitchen bar.  However, before she could dial the number, Gloria’s voice
came from behind her.

“Martina, were you just
in my room?”  She came around the corner pulling her robe over her shoulders
and brushing hair from her face.

“I was,” Marti put down
the receiver and turned fully toward her.

“I’m sorry.  You were
on the phone…”

“No, I was just about
to call Parker.  That’s okay.  I’ll do it later.”

“Oh…!  Parker!  Don’t
you think you ought to start getting yourself ready?”  Gloria squinted at the
clock on the wall in the kitchen.  “It’s a quarter after four.”

“I’m not going,
Gloria.”  Marti folded her arms under her breasts, preparing herself for what
she knew was coming. 

“Why not?”  Gloria
glared.

“Because I don’t think
it’s safe you being here alone.”

“Why not?  I’m fine!” 
She tossed her arms up over her head, an action that allowed her robe to gape
open leaving her naked before Martina, except for the black panties she wore.

“You’re not fine,
Gloria!  Your body has suffered a terrible trauma.”  Marty doubled back and
threw out her arms, gesturing to her, but kept her voice at a level tone.  “At
this point we don’t even know the full extent of your injuries.  From what I
can see, you may even have broken ribs.  Just look at you.  It’s like you were
run over by a bus,” she fretted.

“I know!” Gloria looked
down at her patchwork of bruises.  “Aren’t I a mess?”  She looked up again,
grinning broadly.

“Oh, Gloria, what am I
ever going to do with you?”  Marti went to her with a gentle hug.  “It makes me
wonder what you ever did without me.”

“That is the way with
it, isn’t it, Martina?” Gloria said humbly.  “I guess you’ll just have to stick
with me now.”  She began to whimper.

“You’ll be fine,” Marti
patted her back.  “We’ll get through this together, okay?”

“Okay,” Gloria said
meekly, then pushed away and swiped tears from her cheeks.  “I can’t believe
the mess I’ve made of my life… all the bad choices.”

“We all make mistakes,
Gloria,” Marti consoled.

“Oh yeah!  How many
poor
choices have you made?”

“I’m still a virgin, aren’t
I?” Marti giggled, but it wasn’t funny to her.  In fact, she was more than
perplexed by it all.  Mortified at the mere thought of giving the boot to her
innocence… taking another into her body… the pain that may cause… the shame
that may follow…  And most of all, would she emerge from her maiden voyage the
same person as before?  If not, what effect would it have on her persona? 
These unknowns were all so frightening…

“Yeah, well, that’ll be
rectified tonight, hopefully.  Now go get yourself ready!”

“Don’t be silly!”