Kill the Competition (29 page)

Belinda was drawn to the bay window again, hoping that it was all some kind of macabre hoax, that the trunk would open and Margo would climb out yelling, "Gotcha!"

While Belinda stood staring at her car, a mail van pulled up. She chewed on her thumbnail, heart pounding, as the driver lowered the lid on her mailbox, shoved in her mail, closed the lid, then drove on. He would never realize how close he'd come to a dead body.

Who would want to kill Margo?

A lot of people,
her mind whispered. But who would actually do it?

And frame
her?

Her thoughts were derailed by the appearance of Wade's cruiser. He pulled alongside the curb, blue lights flashing, but without the siren, thank goodness.

She ran outside without bothering to close her front door. He was already out of the car, striding toward her. She couldn't help it—she threw herself into him, sobbing and pressing her cheek against the warm wall of his chest. His arms came around her, and he made shushing noises.

"Easy now, don't come apart on me. Tell me what happened."

She pulled away, embarrassed at her uncharacteristic collapse, and wiped her eyes. "I was going to t-take some things to Goodwill, and when I opened the t-trunk, there she was."

He frowned and put his hand under her chin. "What happened to your face?"

She touched her cheek—she'd forgotten about her black eye. "I fell in the stairwell last night when I left the office." She held up her left arm. "Sprained my wrist, too."

"Pretty wicked scratch."

"My cat did that."

He didn't seem to be in a hurry to move his hand, and he smoothed her hair back on the side of her bruise. "You're accident prone."

"Thank you for coming."

He finally dropped his hand. "You're welcome."

She bit her tongue and glanced toward her car. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Belinda." His voice held the timbre of a warning. "We'll get to the bottom of this, but you need to be strong. When the homicide detectives get here, they're going to have plenty of questions for you."

She sniffed and nodded. "Will you stay?"

He searched her eyes for a few seconds, then said, "I'm not going anywhere. Meanwhile, why don't you wait inside and let me take a look at your car."

"I'd rather be... here."

"All right, but give me some room."

Wade went to the trunk of his own car and removed a few items—namely, stakes and crime scene tape—which he used to block off her yard. The kids across the street had stopped jumping on their trampoline and were now staring, along with their mother. Wade made another trip, removed a tarp and a camera, then snapped on plastic gloves.

"Is the latch still broken?" he asked, stepping over the taped barrier he'd erected.

She nodded and inched closer, hugging herself.

He snapped several photos of the car and the surrounding area, including the box of items bound for Goodwill she'd abandoned on the driveway. Then he carefully lifted the trunk lid. From her vantage point, she could see Margo's gray face and dark hair. A shiver started at her neck and slid over her entire body.

Wade peered into the trunk but didn't touch anything, proceeding to take several pictures from different angles. Then he unfolded the tarp and draped it over the opening. He returned the camera to the cruiser, then withdrew a clipboard and walked her way, his expression grave. "I'll start a report. How do you know the deceased?" He was all business now.

The deceased.
"Margo is—was—my boss at Archer."

"You didn't know her in any other capacity—as a friend?"

She shook her head.

"How long have you known her?"

"Almost three months."

"When was the last time you saw her alive?"

"Last night, I went by her office to discuss a work issue before—" Belinda stopped and collected herself. "Margo was leaving for vacation."

"What time were you in her office?"

"Around six o'clock, I believe."

"Do you know where she was planning to go on vacation?"

"Hawaii. For two weeks."

"Alone?"

"I don't know." The comments the girls had made about Margo flitting to exotic places with her "tadpoles" came to mind, but she didn't want to speculate.

"How long were you in her office?"

She squinted, trying to recall. "Ten minutes maybe."

"Did you argue?"

Belinda hesitated. "No."

He glanced up, then down again. "Was she acting strange? Upset?"

"No, just trying to get out of the office. Said she still had to pack for her trip."

"Did you leave together?"

"No. Her phone rang, so I went on."

"Do you know who called?"

"No." Belinda bit into her lip. "But I do remember it was an internal call—I could tell by the ring."

"Did you see anyone else in the area?"

"I can't say for sure, but I left by the back stairwell, and I didn't see anyone."

"That's when you fell?"

"Yes."

"Did anyone, um, see you fall?"

When he didn't look up, a finger of fear nudged her spine. "No. I was alone."

"And did you go straight to your car?"

"No. I stopped by the lounge on the first floor to clean up—my jacket was torn, and my hand was bleeding."

"Then you went to your car?"

"No." She pressed her lips together. "This is where things get complicated."

He looked up. "Complicated?"

She was prevented from answering by the arrival of two other cars, both unmarked, one with a red light flashing.

"Belinda," Wade said, "are you sure you don't want to call an attorney?"

"I'm sure." Then her mouth went slack. "You don't think I had anything to do with this?"

He pursed his mouth and glanced toward the grim-faced entourage. "No, I don't. But it's not me you'll have to convince."

Chapter 21

Car doors opened. A man and a woman emerged from the first vehicle, their badges gleaming in the sun. A lone man climbed out of the second vehicle, armed with a camera and a medical bag. They all approached, staring at the tarp-covered trunk.

"How you doing, Lieutenant?" the woman asked, her teeth white against her mahogany skin. She was willowy, wearing chinos and a navy sport coat.

"I'm good, Salyers," Wade said. "Belinda Hennessey, this is Detective Salyers and Detective Truett."

Truett was a stocky fellow with a silvery crew cut and a paunch. "Hiya. This is Dr. Janney from the medical examiner's office."

Belinda swallowed hard and nodded a greeting.

"The victim's name is Margo Campbell," Wade offered. "Ms. Hennessey found the body."

Truett grunted. "Is this your car, Ms. Hennessey?"

"Yes."

"Did you move the body or touch anything?"

"No, nothing. I was so frightened, I slammed the lid back down."

"And can you tell us how this woman came to be in the trunk of your car?"

Belinda expelled a pent-up breath. "No, I can't."

"You took the call, Alexander?" Truett asked.

"Yes, sir. I'm acquainted with Ms. Hennessey."

The man's eyebrows climbed. "Oh?"

"We were involved in a fender bender earlier this week." He indicated her broken headlight and dented side panel.

"How many tickets did you write her, Lieutenant?"

Wade had the good grace to squirm. "Um, three, sir."

"What happened to you taking the detective's exam?" Truett asked, pulling gloves from his pocket and rolling them onto his fat hands.

Belinda watched as Wade's color heightened. "The exam isn't going anywhere."

"Neither are you until you take it." The man clapped his gloved hands. "Now, let's see what we got here." He removed the tarp and winced. The M.E. set down his bag and started snapping photographs.

"The trunk was closed when I arrived," Wade said. "But I shot pictures before I opened it. The latch is broken," he said, pointing to the mechanism. "That happened during our collision—I remember checking myself."

"Didn't know you were a mechanic," Truett muttered.

"I had to access the trunk, sir, to change Ms. Hennessey's tire."

"I would have expected no less, Lieutenant."

Wade frowned. "What I'm getting at is that the trunk can be opened without a key. Anyone who had access to this car could have dumped the body inside."

"If they knew about the latch," Truett added. "We'll need prints lifted."

Detective Salyers circled to stand in front of Belinda. "What happened to your eye, Ms. Hennessey?"

"I fell down the stairs at the office building where I work."

"Where do you work?"

"I started a report," Wade cut in, extending the clipboard. "Ms. Hennessey's employment information is there."

Detective Salyers looked back and forth between them, then took the report and began reading. "Lieutenant, why is Archer Furniture familiar to me?"

"An Archer employee fell down the elevator shaft of the Stratford Plaza building about six months ago."

"Yes, I remember now." She handed the clipboard back to him, then pulled out a notebook. "Ms. Hennessey, did anyone see you in the lounge at the Stratford Building, where you say you were cleaning up from your fall?"

"There was another woman in the lounge, but we didn't speak."

"The surveillance tapes will verify the time," Wade offered.

Salyers nodded. "Did you go straight to your car from the lounge?"

Belinda swallowed—the complicated part. "No. I'm in a carpool, and I drove yesterday. But at the end of the day I needed to discuss something with Margo—"

"The victim?"

"Um, yes. I asked one of the ladies I ride with to take my car, and told her I'd drop by her house later to pick it up."

"What are the names of the people you carpool with?"

"Libby Janes, Carole Marchand, and Rosemary Burchett—but Rosemary drove herself to work yesterday."

"Do all of these women work for Archer as well?"

She nodded.

"So why couldn't the two women have just waited for you?"

"I didn't know how long I'd be, and they had an errand to run."

"Which was?"

Belinda hesitated. "Rosemary bows out of the carpool occasionally because of an appointment that she won't discuss. The other two women got it in their heads that she might be seriously ill, so they decided to... follow her." Belinda felt ridiculous.

"So you gave your car keys to whom?"

"Libby Janes."

"Where was your car parked?"

"In the Stratford parking garage, on the eighth floor."

"Every floor has a door to the parking garage," Wade explained.

"What floor is your company located on, Ms. Hennessey?"

"Eighth."

"Handy access."

Belinda decided not to mention that she'd felt pretty darn special to get a parking place so close yesterday morning, next to the spots reserved for handicapped drivers, delivery persons, the CEOs of respective companies, employees of the month, and expectant mothers.

"Do you know what time your two friends left the parking garage in your car?"

"No. When I talked to Libby later, she said that Carole had been late meeting her, so they weren't able to, um... follow Rosemary after all. Supposedly, Rosemary was leaving at six, so I assume it was after that when Libby and Carole left in my car."

Salyers squinted, as if she was trying to keep all the names straight. "How and when did you meet up with your car again?"

"I intended to take MARTA, then get a taxi, but on the way out, I ran into a friend who offered to drive me."