Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night) (14 page)

“I guess you could call it that.”

“And dark tinting?”

“Yes. Why? What is it, Tomes?”

“I want you to promise, Angel, that you’ll let me know right away if this Louis Gomez does happen to call or come around. You need to stay away from him.”

“I know he’s new in town, but I really don’t think he’s the killer, if that’s what
you’re thinking.”

“I can’t get into it right now, but he’s not to be trusted.”

“You’re not going to tell me a thing, are you?”

“Just promise me, Angel.”

“He seemed harmless, but if you’re that worried, you have my word. I’ll let you know if I hear from him again.”

“Good.” Tomes checked his watch. “It’s almost ten
thirty. I need to get over to the estate. The number’s on the fridge if you need me for anything.”

“About this job, Tomes, are you sure you’re going to be okay with it…working
for Corin?”

“It’s just business, and we need the money. Besides, I never said I hated the
man. I just don’t like him making moves on my sister. And he knows why.”

Tomes got up from the table.

“I don’t think that’s your decision to make.”

“He’s not the man for you, Angel, trust me. And I don’t want to fight with you
right now. Like I said, if you need me, the number’s on the fridge.”

Angelique held her temper, silently fuming as Tomes left the room.

What is really going on with you and Corin?

She suspected it was more than it first seemed. Much more.

* * * *

Sheriff Pierson paid a visit to Brookside Realty. Sitting in Sandy Darnell’s
office, he mulled over her desk calendar, trying to find a link, any link. He had just received a call on his cell phone from Dr. Berg, informing him that Mrs. Darnell’s blood type was altogether different from the first victim, Louisa Jaffler, ruling out the possibility of the killer being in dire need of specifically “O positive” blood type.

The receptionist, Ginger, walked in. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“No coffee, thanks,” he replied. “But if you have a minute, I could use a little help deciphering Mrs. Darnell’s handwriting.” He pointed out the area of interest—the activity from July twenty-second. Something written in that square might very well be vital to his case.

“Drop the car off at Purcell’s Garage,” Ginger interpreted the first note.
“Sandy took her car there the day before yesterday. I remember her mentioning how it was stalling.”

“Can you think of anyone who might have had any grudges against Mrs.
Darnell? Possibly a real estate deal gone wrong, or anything in her personal life you might know of?”

“No, sir. Everyone loved
Sandy. And business was good. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm her.”

“What about these other two appointments, can you tell me anything about
them?”

“This one is Mr. Glynn Kensington, the new
principal over at the high school,” she pointed out the name. “He’s a client...an eccentric one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it took him the longest time to decide between two properties in his price quota—a very nice ranch that’s been sitting vacant for some time over in Hixton, and a home with substantially less acreage in Northfield. After much debate, he decided on the smaller residence in Northfield, which didn’t make much sense to me. For the same price he could have had the larger ranch house with way more land, not to mention a shorter commute to and from work.”

“Did he say why?”

“He claimed that something didn’t feel right with the ranch house in Hixton. He had a wild notion the place was haunted. Isn’t that crazy? You wouldn’t think such an educated man would be so superstitious. Anyway, we all got a good laugh out of it.”

“What about this other appointment an hour later?”

“Oh, that was with Charlotte Mitchell from the title company. She handles all of our closings. Sandy was getting the ball rolling with Mr. Kensington’s purchase. Another one of our agents, Lauren Nanner, is finishing up his transaction now. In fact, she’s taken over all of Sandy’s clients. I think she’s in her office if you’d like to speak with her.”

“That won’t be necessary.” He jotted down a few
things in his trusty notepad.

“I’ll know where to find her if anything arises.”

Just then, to Sheriff Pierson’s dismay, a very unpleasant voice drifted through the open doorway. It was none other than Jordon Black rudely calling for assistance from the outside counter, repeatedly dinging the service bell. Ginger excused herself and rushed out to attend him.

“What a pompous ass.” Pierson followed her out, wanting to confront the
arrogant marshal. The man continually proving his insolence with scenes like this one, strutting around with his uppity attitude. It couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d plastered a banner across his chest saying,
I am the man
.

“Can I help you, sir?” Ginger asked,
and in her agitation, bumping a ceramic cup containing several pens and knocking it over.

Sheriff Pierson knew Black’s tactics—aiming for
intimidation—and it irked him. He didn’t care for bullies.

“Is there a problem?” Pierson made his presence known.

“Why, Sheriff Pierson, fancy meeting you here. If we’re going to keep running into each other this way, maybe we should team up…save us both some footwork,” Jordon spouted wryly.

Over my dead body
.

“No need for all that disturbance. I’d hate having to haul you down to the
station for belligerent behavior.”

“No belligerence here, Sheriff, I assure you.” The marshal held his hands up,
palms out. “Just trying to get some help. No one was around.”

“Just stay out of my way, Marshal Black,” Pierson warned.

“I am authorized to be here, like it or not,” Jordon reminded him.

Sheriff Pierson turned to Ginger and thanked her for her assistance before
heading out the door. He figured he’d better leave before his temper got the better of him. He’d never been so tempted to just shoot someone before. Frankly, he was surprised someone hadn’t already attempted it, but for all he knew, maybe they had. He certainly couldn’t imagine the man having many friends, visualizing, rather, a whole slew of enemies just waiting for a chance to take him out.

Sheriff Pierson left the real estate office and drove over to Purcell’s Garage
where he found the garage owner working on an older model Ford truck. He climbed out of the pit, half covered in grease, wiping his hands on an old rag.

“I thought you’d be coming around. I assume you’re here about
Sandy?”

“That’s right
. Sandy Darnell. I was informed you did some work on her car the day before yesterday.” Pierson went straight to his questioning.

“Yeah, she was here.”

“What was the problem with her car?”

“Nothing major. She just needed a new fuel filter. She left it and came back
later in the day and picked it up.”

“Was anyone with her?”

“I remember her saying that someone was waiting, but I’m afraid I didn’t see who it was. I was busy on another job at the time and didn’t notice. Although….”

Purcell paused. “I think it was a client. She
mentioned coming back for her car after showing some properties.”

“How about the vehicle? Did you happen to get a look at it?”

“Sorry, Sheriff, I wish I had paid more attention. Sandy was a loyal customer of mine for years—a real fine lady. It makes me sick thinking what happened to her.”

Sheriff Pierson wondered why there was no mention of a meeting marked on
her calendar. He decided it must have been spur of the moment.

“Is there anything else you can think of pertaining to Mrs. Darnell that you
might consider relevant in any way?” Pierson hoped he might jog a memory.

“No, I don’t think so, except….” Purcell’s voice trailed off. “It’s probably
nothing, but I did give one of Sandy’s business cards to a chap named von Vadim. He just inherited the large estate over in Hixton.”

“I know him,” Sheriff Pierson told him.

“Well, he asked me if I knew anything about the real estate company down the street. I couldn’t tell him much, except that I knew Sandy. And since the office was closed, I passed along one of her cards. I have a stack of ‘em inside, on the counter. We had a little agreement, Sandy and me, to recommend each other’s services. I thought I was doing her a real favor with him being loaded.”

“When was he here?” Pierson probed.

“Night before last. I remember because it was the same day Sandy had been in with her car, I think it was the twenty-second.” He counted the dates back. “Yeah, that’s right, the twenty-second.”

“Mr. von Vadim was here the same night Mrs. Darnell was killed?” Pierson
confirmed, jotting down another entry in his notepad. The wheels in his mind were turning at an alarming rate, spurred by the sudden intake of new information. “Don’t you close up shop at six, Purcell?” Sheriff Pierson motioned toward the sign taped on the door showing his hours of operation.

“I can be flexible. Besides, he called ahead to let me know he was coming. I
did business with that young man’s uncle, Victor von Vadim, from the time I started my garage, more than twenty years back. He was my best customer. Like the young heir now, he preferred to conduct his business after hours.”

“Why after closing?” Sheriff Pierson wanted to know.

“I asked him once. He just said he didn’t get around during the day. Besides, he paid me plenty for the inconvenience. Lucky for me, the heir seems to have inherited his uncle’s enthusiasm for restoring antique cars. That’ll keep the dough rolling—lots of parts needed. His uncle did a great portion of his own labor. I don’t know if that’ll be the case with this young man, but he’s equally generous when it comes to compensation.” Purcell admitted he’d been bought.

“As they say, money talks,” Pierson remarked. The estate owner had more
wealth than any one man ought to have.

“You know, I feel bad about ratting out a customer. If it was anyone but
Sandy, I wouldn’t have. I don’t think anything will come of it, though. He just doesn’t fit the MO.”

“And what do you know of a killer’s MO?” Sheriff Pierson was curious to hear
Purcell’s reply.

“I know I’m no expert. He just doesn’t strike me as the murdering kind.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“True,” Purcell agreed. “Very true.”

“What service did you provide for Mr. von Vadim that night? Was he also having car trouble?”

“No. He just came by to have some spark plugs changed on his Harley
.
Look, Sheriff, I wasn’t accusing him of any wrongdoing. Like I said, I dealt with his uncle for years and he was a decent man.”

“But this isn’t the uncle we’re talking about, this is the nephew who is nothing
more than a stranger. You did the right thing, telling me about the card. Think of the two unfortunate women that were killed, and what they must have gone through. It’s imperative that every possible connection gets checked out, no matter how insignificant it may seem.”

“I know you’re right, Sheriff, I just wish I felt better about it.”

“I think we’re done here. I’ll go and let you get back to work.” Pierson handed him a business card. “If you think of anything else, give me a call.”

Leaving Purcell’s Garage, his next destination was von Vadim Estate. The
sheriff’s visit with Purcell had pushed the wealthy estate owner right to the top of his suspect list. Von Vadim’s arrival in Jackson County certainly coincided with the start of the murders, making Sheriff Pierson all the more suspicious.

Chapter Nine

The Tape

Tomes answered the door dressed in a pair of tattered jeans and a green, plaid
flannel shirt. His wide-open blue eyes widened even further when he saw Sheriff Pierson.

“Sheriff, what can I help you with?” he greeted.

“Mr. Jaffler. I didn’t expect to find you here. I was hoping to see Mr. von Vadim. He’s home, I presume?”

“No. He’s out right now.” Tomes couldn’t tell Sheriff Pierson that Corin was
actually down in the basement, asleep in a crypt.

“I had no idea the two of you were friends.”

“He’s only been here about a month, but we’re getting acquainted. He’s also hired me to do some work on this old place.”

“And he gives you free reign to his home while he’s out? As you just pointed
out, he hasn’t known you long.”