Deadly Intentions (16 page)
Authors: Candice Poarch
25
Lisa was down on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor, her whole body swishing with the motion.
“Lisa, let me call someone in who cleans up crime scenes,” her mother said. “Stay with us tonight.”
“I can't have this blood in my house. It will stain.”
Her sister, Vanetta, had arrived, too, but she'd disappeared a minute ago.
No such luck with her mother. “Honey, more than likely you'll have to replace the floorboards. I don't think the blood is going to completely dissipate. And there are services that are accustomed to cleaning these situations. They'll know how to save it. They work with this all the time.”
“Mama, I'm a professional. I have the products to get blood out.” Lisa continued to scrub as if her life depended on getting it out.
Suddenly someone hunkered down beside her with gloves and a sponge. “Together, we'll get rid of this in no time,” Vanetta said. “Don't worry, Mom. We'll take care of it. Go have a seat.”
“Honey, you've been through an ordeal. Come home with your father and me.”
“I have too much to do, Mom.”
“Mom, please,” Vanetta said. “Can you make some tea? I could use some and I'm sure Lisa can, too. And maybe some coffee. It's late and I'm sure the officers could use some coffee and sandwiches.”
Their mother threw up her hands. “All right. I'll make tea, coffee, and sandwiches.” In a huff she walked off.
“Thanks,” Lisa said to her sister.
“I think we almost have it.”
She and Brian had only had a few minutes together in the back. When Lisa returned and saw all the blood on her floor, she lost it.
She knew she was acting irrationally, but she had to do something. If she stopped, she'd go starkraving mad.
Her home was supposed to be her haven. A place she was so proud of. How dare Greg bring trouble here.
Lisa's uncle and father took the first ferry to the mainland the next morning. They were probably the first customers at the Virginia Beach Home Depot. They'd even missed church to pick out a door to replace the broken one. Now they were back replacing it.
Brian wanted to help, but they wouldn't let him. “We've got it,” they said. “Just take a load off. Really appreciate you saving my girl,” her father said.
“I'm going to stay here again tonight,” Alyssa said.
“It's not necessary,” Lisa told her. “Brian will be staying with me. Besides, you have a lot to do.”
Lisa was glad when everyone left. She kept busy cleaning, then she prepared enough food for dinner to feed an army. It was good to have somebody to cook for besides herself.
They sat to dinner. “You know, I wonder how the bowl was taken in the first place,” she said. “Aunt Anna was very good about hiding it. She wouldn't have let a stranger get that close to her.”
“Probably someone who knew about the family. A family friend she trusted perhaps.”
“You wouldn't believe the number of people who've died over this thing. It makes no sense.”
“I hate to say this, but do you think someone in the family could have stolen it and sold it?”
“Then why are these people still looking for it? Most thieves would have gone on to richer treasures. That bowl isn't worth enough for them to keep pursuing it. Why take the chance here?”
“You said it was worth a few hundred grand. That's nothing to sneeze at. And it could be personal. Greg had a vendetta against you.”
“We were in school together one year. One lousy year when I was eighteen. That was ten years ago. If he was going to get even about some imagined infraction, why not back then? Why wait until now?”
“People can carry grudges for a long time,” Brian said. “He was obviously mentally unstable. It probably built up in his head over time. You said he mentioned coming to the crab fry last year. He probably fixated on you then and his hatred grew out of proportion.”
“But so many people have died,” Lisa said, distressed. “I feel guilty for poor Harriet. Her only sin was hiring me.”
“If you're going to start blaming people, then you have to blame everyone who ever had possession of the bowl. The man my grandfather bought it from. My grandfather. Whether you had the cleaning job or not, they would have killed Harriet. Then I'd have to take some blame. If I wasn't injured she wouldn't have been at the house. Do you see how convoluted this can get?” he asked. “It's not our fault, but Greg's and his underlings'. Killing means nothing to them.” He remained silent for a moment. “I hate to broach this topic again, but would someone in your family sell the bowl?”
“A year ago, you could have said I would have sold it, not illegally, but I wanted the family to agree to sell it. I have cousins who want it sold, but none of us have the authority. Aunt Anna put Alyssa, Barbara, and Gabrielle in charge of it. The terms of the will say all three of them have to agree to a sale.”
“Honey, in the state of Virginia, it takes only one person to force a sale.”
“None of them would sell anyway. They want those items to stay in the family. Aunt Anna chose her caretakers well.”
“How about your cousin Jackie? She's always scrounging for money.”
“Yeah, but that doesn't mean she'd sell it out from under us. Jackie is me a year ago. Maybe not quite. Though I wasn't a person you would have liked a year ago, I wouldn't have stolen the bowl even then.”
“I'm just saying look at all the options,” Brian said.
“That bowl is on display every year during Founder's Day. Many people come here because there are lots of venders, artists selling their paintings and sculptures and other crafts, fishing competitions. There are rides for kids. Any number of people see that bowl on display. And any of them could have become fixated on it. It was even written up and discussed at the Jamestown celebration a few years ago.”
Brian sighed. “That leaves a whole world of options.”
“Besides, lots of people visited Aunt Anna the last year before she died and she was suffering from dementia. It's quite possible she could have unwittingly shown someone the bowl and that person could have come back to steal it.”
Later that night, as Lisa went over her scheduling for the next week, she began checking properties and talking with clients to make sure they were satisfied with their work. She also had to hire more cleaning people and train them.
She had several interviews scheduled. Word of mouth was spreading about her cleaning service and that was a good thing. She called several of her workers and went over the schedule with them.
Brian was asleep by the time she finished her calls. As she hung up the phone she thought about her conversation with him. Would Jackie sell the family out? Was she that desperate for money? She lived with her parents so she didn't have to worry about food or shelter.
But if Jackie sold the bowl, she wouldn't need the job and she could leave her parents' home.
26
Nicholas hadn't driven to Virginia Beach that night, after all. He'd spent the night in a Williamsburg hotel and waited until the next morning to make the trip.
He called his secretary first thing and dictated the obituary for the local paper. He also commissioned a funeral parlor to pick up the body later that day. The owner had borrowed a considerable amount of money from Nicholas when he wanted to expand. National chains were grabbing up the funeral business. He wanted to keep his business independent and Nicholas had helped him. The owner was more than glad to help. The funeral would be in three days.
Then he dressed in disguise and left the hotel. He'd paid by credit card. He didn't need to stop by the front desk.
Now he drove along 64-E. Whisked past Newport News and Hampton, then through the tunnel. His hands tightened around the wheel.
They'd lived in D.C. when Greg was a child. He'd brought Greg here on a trip when he was around eleven or twelve with a couple of his friendsâfriends Nicholas had approved of.
Greg was more his child than his brother. Nicholas had taken care of him from the moment the little tyke was born. Made sure he got his meals on time. Even stole diapers and formula when he didn't have enough money to buy them.
An alley cat had more motherly concern than their mother. She didn't care who she laid with or what happened to her sons as long as she got her fix.
At first the lady upstairs had seen to Greg's needs whenever Nicholas was working. He didn't go to social services because he was afraid they'd take his brother away. And Nicholas wanted to make sure nothing happened to Greg. He made sure Greg wasn't crying in some dirty crib while six or seven kids vied for attention from some poor harried woman.
And then one night an old man had seen him stealing diapers and pulled out a handgun from beneath the counter.
It was the first time Nick had killed a person. And it had felt good. The way the old guy, the store owner, was trying to keep him from stealing what he needed for Greg, he deserved it. What did a few diapers or cans of formula mean to him?
But Nicholas was a kid with a drug-addicted whore for a mother. It wasn't as if she'd ever taught him a thing. Everything he'd learned had come from the streets. Much later he realized he needed to learn the skills others learned from home to raise himself and Greg in a better world.
He was smart. He'd quickly learned what he needed. He'd given Greg an Ivy League upbringing.
Only for it to end up like this. Nicholas shook his head, inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to keep himself from sinking into depression.
Within an hour, he parked in front of the plush beach hotel where Greg had stayed. While he was in the driveway he called Justin and asked him to meet him in Greg's room, making sure to give him the room number.
Nicholas looked at himself in the rearview mirror. Not even Greg would recognize him in this getup. He knew how to completely alter his appearance. When he was finished to his satisfaction, he jogged toward the beach to clear his head. He walked briskly along the boardwalk. It was early morning. A few people were scurrying about, trying to get in their morning run before the children stirred or the wives made demands on their time. A bunch of nobodys.
Justin should be here by now,
Nicholas figured, looking at his watch.
Nicholas figured, looking at his watch.
When he went through the front door into the lobby, the desk clerk barely looked up from his paperwork. Nick gave an imperceptible nod as he headed to the elevator and caught it to the top floor. He knocked lightly on the door when he got there.
Justin opened it, his brows furrowed in concern.
He should be worried,
Nicholas thought.
He should be worried,
Nicholas thought.
“I'm really sorry, man,” Justin said. “If I had had any idea he was going after that woman, I would have stopped him or called you.”
“Start from the beginning.”
“I told him to be patient, to let me handle getting the bowl. But he was bent on getting this done in a hurry.” Justin started from the beginning. Maybe he'd come out of this alive. Hopefully. He wouldn't mention his contact with Tootsie, merely tell him he'd deliver the bowl to him tomorrow.
“Why didn't you come to me in the beginning?” Nick asked.
“He wanted the bowl to be your birthday surprise. He didn't want you to know.”
Justin finished his story.
“It's nice on the balcony,” Nicholas said. “I can use some fresh air.” He searched in the drawer for the menu. “Let's take this with us and decide what we'll order for breakfast.”
Justin looked nervously in that direction when Nick opened the balcony door and stepped outside. Cool air rushed in. What could he do but follow?
“Still pretty cool,” Justin said.
“I like it cool.”
Justin swallowed hard. “I have plans for breakfast. I'll be on my way. . . .” But Nicholas was on the balcony leaning on the railing.
Nicholas turned. “You'll have breakfast with me.” It wasn't a request but a demand.
Gingerly Justin moved near the door and stepped out onto the balcony. Nicholas held out the menu.
Justin reached for it.
Nicholas caught Justin's hand and pulled him forward and with a hard push, Justin flew over the banister, screaming. He'd never thought his life would end this way.
Nicholas stood there only a few seconds before he stepped back. He quickly made his way to the elevator as if he had a pressing meeting to attend. He did not run. He would not look suspicious.
People were too focused on the fallen man to notice Nicholas exiting the hotel.
It was eleven. Justin was supposed to meet Tootsie at ten. She waited for more than an hour for him to show up. Finally she ordered pancakes. Worry ate at her insides and the food, instead of being appetizing, tasted like sand. She could only pick at her meal. She started to order a second cup of coffee, but was already too wired. She ordered hot chocolate instead.
After she had talked with Justin, Tootsie realized she couldn't live with him. There was too much between them. He was a murderer. She couldn't live with that.
But she couldn't keep the bowls. She should just give them to the Claxtons. She'd never stolen a thing in her life. She'd never been rich either. She was just a struggling artist trying to survive.
Tootsie waited another hour. Justin never arrived. She had her food packed in a container to carry it back to her condo. She took a circuitous route, backtracking, stopping in a parking lot as if she was going in the store and glancing around to make sure she wasn't being followed. Justin was sneaky. It was just like him to follow her home so he could get his hands on those bowls.
On the other hand, she couldn't call him just in case something went wrong with his meeting. If there had been a meeting.
By the time she made it home, her food was cold. She watched through the crack in her curtains for him to show up. Finally satisfied that she hadn't been followed, she turned on the TV and heated her food in the microwave.
When she was about to take a second bite, pancake and whipped cream dropped off her fork.
Justin was dead. Dead. The police had refused to give out the name, but the reporter said an anonymous source revealed the name and that he wasn't from the area. According to the news, he'd jumped from the top-floor balcony in a Virginia Beach hotel.
Tootsie sat stunned. Justin had a meeting at the hotel with Nicholas Doyle that morning.
“No freaking way. Justin would never kill himself, not when he was about to come into some big money. Not when he owned a lovely home and business in Colorado.”
But . . . if he didn't commit suicide, then . . .
Nicholas.
Tootsie jumped up, pulled her suitcase out and began to pack. But where would she go? Justin had been deathly afraid of Nicholas Doyle. Had Justin kept her name out of it as promised? Had Nicholas tortured her name out of him? When the chips were down, it was survival of the fittest.
She began to shake. Justin didn't know where she was so he couldn't have told Nicholas. But Nicholas could still find her.
She had to leave the area.
But first she had to get in Justin's motel room.
Tootsie grabbed her purse and drove to the Ocean Wave Motel. She still had a key to the room.
She had to take the chance. If anyone found the paperwork, her name would be on it. She could be implicated in the murder if they ever figured out Justin committed it.
She checked in to the room beside Justin's just in case someone was watching. She peeped through the curtains for half an hour watching every car that arrived and left. There were no rooms across from hers.
Finally feeling safe, she slipped into Justin's room. There was a briefcase in the closet. She opened it. Her name was written on an envelope.
She couldn't hang around there. She snapped the briefcase closed and took it with her to the car and drove away.
Again, she took a circuitous route back to her condo.
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