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Authors: Polly Iyer

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BOOK: Murder Deja Vu
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New England

 

C
arl had given Reece Mark Cabrini’s business address in Wellesley Center. Reece remembered the orthodontist as a nice guy, but he knew Cabrini in another life, when he wasn’t wanted for double murder. He hoped Cabrini was still a nice guy.

The office, sandwiched between a Chinese restaurant and gourmet grocery store, offered a better location to fit into the surroundings than to lurk in front of Cabrini’s home, where a neighbor might notify the police. Reece parked in front of the grocery store, adjusted his sunglasses, and pulled down his cap—just another patient husband waiting for his store-bound wife.

The hours on Cabrini’s door were obscured, and he wasn’t about to get out and check, but he had a clear view of who came and went. If Cabrini left by a back exit, Reece would be forced to go to his house. He hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

A woman and child left the office a few minutes before five. Then another woman in a white uniform came out—an assistant, Reece guessed. He held his breath and waited some more. Ten minutes later, Mark Cabrini came out of the office. Seeing Cabrini’s face brought into focus that night twenty-one years ago. Time had been good to the orthodontist. Reece remembered admiring Mark’s dark good looks, and though silver threaded his black hair, he could still stop women in their tracks. He walked to the grocery store, came out ten minutes later toting a shopping bag, crossed the street, and got into a BMW SUV. Reece eased out of the parking lot and followed discreetly.

Wellesley’s residential roads forked and curved past manicured lawns and stately homes that spoke of old money. If Reece’s survival hadn’t been prominent in his mind, he might have enjoyed the drive.

The SUV pulled into the driveway of a handsome fieldstone and wood house with a slate-tiled roof. Flowers edged the walkway, and two rambunctious golden retrievers romped in a fenced yard, barking for their master’s attention. The garage doors rose automatically, and Cabrini drove inside. Reece parked in the driveway behind him. Cabrini got out and turned around. He stopped, squinted.

Reece looked a lot different than he did the night of the murder. Forty pounds lighter, his scholarly pallor now burnished brown, dark blond hair mixed with gray. No matter, Cabrini recognized him. Reece’s heart pounded. Cabrini could punch 911 into his cell phone and there’d be no escape.

“Hi, Mark.”

“Reece. You know half the country’s looking for you.”

“I know.” He took a few steps forward. “I didn’t do it.”

Cabrini craned his neck to scout the surrounding area. “I wouldn’t have thought so. I never believed you killed Karen. I told the attorney who interviewed me, but he wasn’t inclined to listen.” He waved Reece toward him. “Come inside before someone sees you.”

Reece released a long breath. Unless Mark was playing him, he felt safe for the moment. He followed him into a study on the garage side of the house.

“Wait here. My wife’s mother is sick. She’s there. I’ll get us a couple of beers.”

“Am I safe, Mark?” He looked at Cabrini, the implication of his question clear.

“You’re safe. The police have already called to see if you’ve been around. They asked me to let them know if you showed up. Fuck ’em.” He left and came back with two longnecks of imported beer. “You look different. I want to say better. Not so soft like when you were in school.”

“Prison has a way of toughening you up. I’d advise getting a gym membership instead.”

Mark nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something else but thought better of it.

“I need to know about that night,” Reece said. “Someone’s trying to nail me again, and I think it’s someone we both know.”

“You mean either Carl, Steve, or Jordan? Or me?”

Hearing Carl’s name gave him a jolt. But he was there. “Yeah. My investigator stirred the pot. He thinks it made someone nervous.”

“I know. He called me too. Asked me all kinds of questions.”

“I saw Carl this morning. What about the others? Do you have any sense of something that could help? Something you might have thought of since then, no matter how unimportant it seems?”

“I told everything I knew at the trial, and nothing ever dawned on me later. I used to be close with Steve, but we kind of drifted apart. He and Jordan were out in Grafton at the vet school. I lived in Medford, met Sandy and, well, you develop a whole different group of friends when you have a serious girlfriend, then get married. Couples. No more singles bars and late-night carousing. You know how it is.” Mark shook his head. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“After all these years, have you remembered something?”

“I’ve gone over that night a million times. Went over the trial even more, but none of it meant a thing. I couldn’t remember. Carl…”

Mark tipped his beer to his lips. “I didn’t know he slept with her until after the trial.”

“I didn’t know for sure until today.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference,” Cabrini said, “but he should have spoken up. He was my friend, but he was your brother. We drifted apart after that.”

“He thinks the prosecution would have said it gave me more reason to kill her. He’s probably right. I just wish he’d told me. But that’s something he’ll have to deal with in his own heart.” Reece thought after meeting his brother that morning he’d be over feeling betrayed, but the knife in the back still cut deep. “You can’t go back in time, Mark. What’s done is done. I’ve spent years festering. I wanted to move on, but someone won’t let me.”

“Even though we didn’t know you well, being Carl’s friends, we weren’t very ethical. We knew Karen was your girlfriend, yet we all slept with her. What does that make us?”

“Horny guys.” Reece forced a smile. “Like I said, I wish I’d known, instead of investing myself in her.”

“I only had sex with her one time. Then I learned both Steve and Jordan had slept with her. I didn’t need the distraction. I had enough anxiety with dental school. I didn’t know Jordan well. He always seemed, I don’t know, a little odd. Being in vet school together, he and Steve were closer.”

“Did either of them mention they were hooked on Karen?”

“No. I think we all felt guilty, so we never discussed her.”

“Who mentioned Karen’s sex life at the table first?”

Mark took a pull on his beer. He thought a minute before answering. “Steve. He didn’t do it vindictively. It was a slip of the tongue. Later he said he couldn’t believe he’d done it. I remember seeing the look on your face and feeling terrible.”

“Not as terrible as I felt. You think either one of them could have killed her?”

Reece had barely touched his beer. Mark finished his before he spoke. “I don’t know, and that’s the truth. I’ve learned I’m not a very good judge of character. I used to trust everyone, then I opened a practice and found out differently. Even in upscale Wellesley.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble, Mark, but I need Steve’s address. Jordan’s too, if you have it.” He steadied his gaze on Mark. “I won’t be railroaded into prison again.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it must have been.” He patted Reece on the shoulder. “I haven’t seen or heard from Jordan in twenty years. He could be in Mongolia, for all I know. But I have Steve’s address somewhere.”

Reece looked around the office while Mark rummaged through the top drawer of his desk. Pictures of the Cabrini family covered the mantel; golf trophies and tournament memorabilia filled the bookcase. What he saw spoke of a man who’d attained his success through hard work, because he knew Mark came from a working-class family with little money. He imagined he’d have a similar room in his house if things had gone as planned, with pictures of a wife and kids in silver frames, grouped on the mantel. He’d always tried not to think of that life, but the contrast of what he saw in this home office posed a stark reminder.

Mark handed Reece a piece of paper with Steve Yarrow’s name, address, and phone number. “He has a vet practice in Cohasset with another guy. I always thought he and Jordan would go into practice together—they talked about it—but it never happened.”

Reece glanced at the paper, folded it, and tucked it into his jeans pocket. “Thanks. I appreciate your help.” He got up to leave when a well-dressed, attractive woman walked into the study.

“Mark?” She stared at Reece for an uncomfortably long time. “Jesus, are you nuts? His picture’s all over the news.”

“He’s a friend, Sandy, and he’s innocent.”

“So what? This makes you an accessory. Harboring a fugitive, or something.”

She went for the phone. Mark put his hand over hers on the receiver. “Don’t.”

“I’m going. Thanks, Mark.” Reece turned to Sandy Cabrini. “I can’t stop you from calling the police, Mrs. Cabrini, but I hope you won’t.” He nodded at Mark and left the same way he entered. He trusted Mark not to mention where he was going, but like his friend said, no one ever knows who’s trustworthy.

Chapter Thirty-Two
Uninvited Guests

 

D
ana’s heart leapt when she heard Reece’s voice. “Where are you?”

“Two down, two to go,” he said. “I’m on my way back. It’s too late to catch number three at work, and I don’t dare go to his house and come face-to-face with his wife. Number two’s wife recognized me. I’m still not sure she hasn’t phoned the police, which is another reason why I want to wait. Have you heard from
Jeraldine
?”

“No. Why would I?”

“Because she knows Frank is the only person I’d go to, same as the cops.”

“She doesn’t want to know. If anything bad happens, they can say she aided and abetted in a crime. That’s not covered in her rights as your lawyer.”

“I know, but nothing’s going to happen. Have Lana check the street for cops.”

“Okay. Reece?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful.”

“I will. I’m getting the hang of this on-the-lam thing.”

Dana repeated what Reece wanted Lana to do.

“Good idea,” Frank said. “It’s a nice day. Why don’t we walk over to the beach and watch the sun go down? I’m slow, which means we can get a good look around without arousing suspicion.”

“Are you up to it?” Lana asked.

“Sure. You’ve heard of bed sores? I’m getting recliner sores on my ass. I need to walk. It’ll do me good.”

Lana helped him to his feet. Dana’s insides twisted as she watched. She kept envisioning the tattooed man swooping down like the wrath of God to save Reece and comparing that man with the picture before her. The contrast flooded her with sadness.

“Don’t you get all weepy on me, girl,” Frank said. “I’m weak, but it ain’t got me yet. Has it, Lana, my sweet?

“Not yet, love.”

“Still got some hugging and kissing in me for later. The other stuff…not so much.”

Lana soft-punched him, embarrassed. “Frank. What will Dana think?”

He took Lana’s arm with one hand, a cane in the other. “With all this talk, she’ll think, where the hell is Reece?”

Dana laughed. “You’re a bad boy, Frank Vance.”

He winked. “I hope so.”

They left Dana fighting off tears. She went to the window and peeked from behind the curtain, staying out of view. Frank and Lana slowly descended the stairs, searching the area in a natural manner. Dana figured Frank turned on his cop antennae, second nature to a man who’d spent most of his life either on the lookout for cops or inside prison. Lana might have been looking too, but her attention focused more on helping Frank. As they moved from the inside street to the pedestrian crosswalk, cars stopped to let them pass.

Lana had opened the windows. Today, the air smelled like the ocean. People jogged along the promenade, the waves of high tide crashed onto the seawall. Farther down, the shoreline narrowed into a stretch of beach that led to an island. Nahant, Frank called it, attached to Lynn by a causeway. On the horizon, a rock jutted out of the ocean like a giant leviathan. Dana thought it looked like a half-submerged elephant, its trunk curled into the water.

She didn’t see anyone suspicious. No one lurking in cars or on the walkway across the street. That didn’t mean they weren’t there. She watched as Frank and Lana strolled to a spot in front of the seawall and settled on the bench, two older people enjoying the day. Lana turned around and faced the building, shaking her head, indicating an all clear.

Dana thought about the last year. From Robert’s nasty exposure of her affair to the accusation against Reece to the two people across the street she had grown to care about in such a short time. Some wounds had healed. Robert could no longer threaten her with exposure, and she didn’t lose her sons in the fallout. She’d met Frank and Lana, a window of opportunity that would be closed later, at least concerning Frank. But, oh, the joy of knowing him.

And Reece. He had stolen her heart, and she’d given him hers. Still, questions remained that needed answers, mysteries that begged solutions.

She checked her watch. Almost an hour since Reece called. She wished she’d asked where he was and how long it would take him to get back. Frank and Lana still sat on the bench along the promenade. Going that distance must have exhausted him, and he needed time to harness the strength to return. Then she noticed a dark car pull up in front of the house—the kind of unmarked car that law enforcement drove. Two dark-suited men got out. One adjusted the bulge under his jacket. Every muscle in Dana’s body tensed. They glanced up at the window while climbing the steps to the front door. Fortunately, she stepped back out of sight in time.

BOOK: Murder Deja Vu
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