Rancor: Sinister Attachments, Book 1 (11 page)

When she reached the lobby, she could see through the windowed enclosure that Mr. Zimmerman was not in his office. Where was he, on vacation? She walked to the room and looked in; maybe there was a note on the door or his desk indicating there had been a family emergency, and he had to leave, but he would be back. There was no note.

She looked through the glass and noticed a framed black-and-white photograph of a fishing charter boat with the name Castaway painted on the stern. The watercraft reminded her of the S.S. Minnow from 
Gilligan’s Island.

Noticing there was a person at the helm, she decided to get a closer look. Was it the Carl Zimmerman she knew or was it his father? She tried the door; it was unlocked. She walked up to the picture and examined it. The man did indeed resemble Mr. Zimmerman; however he was tall and trim, not stubby and potbellied. She could tell the photograph had been taken a long time ago by the way it was faded and yellowed around the edges. Based on what Claudia ranted about at the grocery store last week, it had to be Mr. Zimmerman’s father. She must have meant it was him that was drunk and killed a man out on the water in front of this horrid place.

“Maggie, what are you doing in Mr. Zimmerman’s office?” Ethel asked, through the open door.

Maggie turned around. “I was just looking at this picture. Is that—”

“It’s not good to be inside this office,” Ethel said, interrupting Maggie’s question. She motioned for Maggie to leave.

“Of course, I’m sorry.” Maggie walked out and closed the door.

Ethel began walking to the vestibule. “I’d like to stay and chat, Maggie, but I need to get to the store and get some items I need. I’ll talk to you later.”

Maggie watched as Ethel rushed out the door and down the porch steps. I wonder what her hurry is, she thought as she walked to her, still empty, mailbox.

The drive to her house distracted her from Debbie’s lies—at least for the moment—as her car hummed along the rain-soaked roads from the storm during the night.
Now, however
, the rising sun cast warm, bright light over the road and into the car. She pulled down the sun visor as she drove into Black Water. She got a cup of coffee and continued her journey, feeling much better as she got further away from the crazies.

The coffee was gone when she drove into her driveway. Between the trauma of Cory’s death and Debbie’s false accusations, she was becoming numb to the emotional pain. She got out of the car and went into the house, forcing herself to look into the dining room. Only a slight flush of agony rushed through her. Her mind was blocking out the misery, making her desensitized to the pain. She was changing her mind about selling the house; maybe she should move back in. It made the most sense, after all. First, she had to catch Debbie in the act of framing her so that she had more than her words to fight the lies.

Maggie walked into the office and to the drawer containing the camcorder. She took it out, along with the charger, and stuffed it inside her purse. Then she looked around the room and the file cabinet next to her. She remembered the INCIDENTS folder. Out of curiosity, she slid open the file cabinet drawer and pulled out the folder, then sat at the desk and opened it.

Records of on-the-job injuries by employees were inside. She thumbed through them and stopped when she reached the last sheet of paper, it had Jess’s name written on it. It had her listed as an associate accountant. Jess was not an accountant; she was a waitress at Flashers, a bar not far from their house. Moreover, Jess was not taking any accounting classes, so why did Cory hire her and why had not Jess said anything to her?

She pulled the sheet of paper out for closer inspection. If he had hired her as an associate accountant, something must have happened for him to add her to the INCIDENTS folder. There was no mention of an actual incident, other than next to the date February 14, it said, “Met after work for drinks, Chalet, blackmail.” Maggie did not have to think too hard to conclude that Cory was having an affair with Jess and that she was blackmailing him. No way, it has to mean something else, she thought. Then she remembered she was out of town at a book signing that night. Not hard to forget since it was Saint Valentine’s Day.

Maggie closed the folder. Cory did not act as if he was with Jess; but, of course, when someone is having an affair, learning to cover it up would be the top priority. But what about the mention of blackmail? Was it possible that Jess was blackmailing Cory? Was Jess demanding money from him in exchange for not telling her about their relationship? Maggie’s emotions exploded as sadness overtook her. What else could happen?

She went back to the file cabinet and pulled out the folder with the bank statements for his business. Even though Cory had these records on his computer, he always printed them out so that he had another copy. Maggie went immediately to the February statement, looking for anything out of the ordinary. There were expenditures for equipment, supplies, employee wages, and an ATM withdrawal of five-hundred dollars. Then she could not believe what she saw on the next line, a debit for Swiss Chalet. Oh my god, I think that is a motel, she said.

Maggie turned on Cory’s computer and did a search for Swiss Chalet. It was just as she expected. The next town over had it listed as a short-stay motel, in other words, a no-tell motel. Tears streamed from Maggie’s eyes as she went through the statements looking for any other mysterious withdrawals. There was none.

She closed the file and sobbed. It was as though everything had been taken from her. She was alone; there was no one she could count on, no one she could trust.

Maggie stood up and went into the bathroom. She took a washcloth from the closet and ran it under cool water to wipe her face. There had to be a logical explanation, she thought. I mean, if Jess actually was blackmailing Cory, he was not taking money from the business or from their personal checking account, she would have known, if he were. Then it struck her, right between the eyes like a hatchet blade. The only other thing of value they had that Jess could want as payment to cover up the affair was . . . the jewelry . . . The jewelry and the coin in the wall safe.

She threw down the washcloth and ran back into the office. Without concern for 1984 and The Lord of the Rings, she frantically pushed them away from the safe, causing them to fall to the floor as she fumbled with the keypad. When she finally got the correct code entered, she opened the safe. It was empty. Oma Gerdie’s jewelry and the coin were gone. Everything was gone, even the ammunition for the handgun.

TWENTY-TWO

Maggie was furious. Jess must have watched her enter the wall safe’s security code when she was getting inside it to retrieve Cory’s Last Will and Testament. She was standing right behind me, she could see everything I did, Maggie said to herself. And she kept pushing me to drink to the point I was sloshed and passed out in bed. Jess could have taken the jewelry and the coin that night while I was sleeping like a corpse. She stomped her foot. How could I be so foolish, so trusting?

“I’m calling her,” she said rushing to her purse and the phone inside. She dialed Jess, but it went to voicemail. I need to stay calm and act like nothing is going on, she thought. “Hey, Jess, what are you up to? Give me a call. Bye.” 

Maggie picked up her purse and the box of tissue. She was about to leave to drive to Jess’s when she thought she had better call her lawyer, Darron Sugarman. She sat at Cory’s desk, found the phone number, and called the lawyer’s office.

“Sugarman, Chandler, and Page Law Offices,” the woman said. “May I help you?”

“I’m Margaret McGee and I had dropped some paperwork off for Mr. Sugarman to look at,” Maggie said, trying not to sound like she was crying. “Do you know if he’s had time to look at it?”

“He’s in the office right now; would you like me to transfer you?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Darron Sugarman, what can I do for you?” the lawyer said with a slow, baritone voice.

“This is Maggie McGee, and I was wondering if you have looked at the paperwork I dropped off concerning my deceased husband.”

“Yes, I have.” Papers shuffled in the background. “Did you have a specific question?”

“I guess first I’d like to know if life insurance covers his suicide.”

“Sadly, it does not. Unless it can be proved that he was insane and not responsible for his actions, I’m afraid it is not covered.”

Maggie was not sure if she should bring up the blackmailing, yet. “Was there anything unusual about the will?”

“You are the sole beneficiary of the property and estate, real, personal, and mixed, tangible and intangible including the business of McGee Construction Company, after all debt and expenses are paid.” The attorney cleared his throat. “There is something unusual though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your deceased husband bequeathed all jewelry, and a coin inherited from his grandmother Gerdie Lavis, to one named Jessica Jane Pinter. Items include a 3-carat Golconda diamond ring valued at $300,000; a 65-carat Morganite platinum diamond pendant with a 14K gold omega necklace valued at $60,000; and an 1802 Proof Draped Bust Silver Dollar valued at—I hope you are sitting down—1.3 million dollars.”

Maggie gasped, partly from the shock of having items of that staggering value in their safe and the fact that Jessica Jane Pinter was now the owner of them. She stammered. “No, no, I had no idea. I knew they were valuable, but I didn’t know they were that valuable . . . Is the will legal?”

“It appears to be. His signature is notarized and appears in order.”

Maggie jumped in. “I checked the safe this morning before I came here, and the jewelry and the coin are missing. The only person who would know the code to get into the safe is Jessica Pinter. I believe she stole them.”

“It appears they are legally hers,” Attorney Sugarman said. “However, if what you say is correct, and she entered your home illegally, without your permission, with the intent of stealing the jewelry and the coin, it would constitute breaking and entering, as well as burglary. Do you have proof that Jessica Jane Pinter took the valuables from the safe?”

Maggie thought a moment. “No, but she’s the only one, that I’m aware of, that knew about them and would possibly know the combination.”

“Are you at the house now?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Call the police and file a report.”

“I will.” Maggie was not sure whether to mention the hunch she had about Jess because blackmail sounded so crazy, but she did. “I think Jess was blackmailing Cory.”

“Are you sure about that? What proof do you have?”

“I have a letter and a bank statement. I’ll send a copy to you.”

“We may need to contest the will,” Attorney Sugarman said. “Keep in touch.”

When they disconnected, Maggie called the police. While she waited for them to come out to the house, she brainstormed how she could get proof that Jess came into the house and got into the safe. All she had was circumstantial evidence.

TWENTY-THREE

After the police had left the house, Maggie locked up and drove to Cedar Creek Trailer Park to confront Jess. The sun was high in the sky by the time Maggie turned into the park. Kids were riding bikes on the narrow paved roads and seniors were sitting on their trailer decks enjoying the sunny day. When she approached Jess’s trailer, she noticed her car was not in the driveway. She was stopping and knocking at the door anyway.

Maggie drove up to the steps and turned off the car. She reached into her purse and turned on her phone’s voice recorder. Even though she had no idea if it was legal to record someone without his or her knowledge, she needed proof Jess was guilty. 

She walked up to the door and knocked. There was no answer. Knowing Jess was not home, she thought about going into the trailer just to do a little investigating. Maybe she would get lucky and see the jewelry and coin sitting on the counter. She knew that was highly unlikely but worth a try. Looking around she saw no one watching, so she turned the doorknob; it was locked. She had a key to Jess’s trailer just as Jess had a key to her house. Then it occurred to her, is it considered breaking and entering when you have a key? Is she breaking and entering? Was Jess really breaking and entering? What about the permission aspect? Maggie sighed, without catching Jess red handed with the goods, it was probably useless pressing charges. Just as Maggie could say she was stopping to pick up something she had left in the trailer when she lived there; Jess could say she was checking to make sure things were all right at the house.

Maggie unlocked the door and pushed it open. She walked into the trailer and closed the door. The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air. “Jess, are you here?”

Not hearing an answer, she walked further inside. The living room had empty beer cans sitting around, and the kitchen counter had an old piece of chocolate cake that was attracting a line of ants. So far, nothing looked like Jess had sold the valuables and was living the high life.

She walked to the bathroom and then to Jess’s bedroom. Should she look in dresser drawers? It would be a definite invasion of privacy, but then, she did steal from Maggie and have an affair with her husband. At least that is how things seemed to be.

The month that Maggie had lived with Jess, she had never went into her bedroom or looked through her things. Part of Maggie felt awful for thinking her friend was a slut and thief, but the evidence was there; at least in Maggie’s eyes. She walked up to Jess’s nightstand and slid open the small drawer. Inside were lip balm, hand lotion, a condom, and various insignificant things.

“What are you doing?” Jess said, from behind her.

Maggie pushed the drawer closed and turned around. She had not heard Jess come into the trailer, and now she was the one caught getting into personal items. She had to think of something to say, and quick. “Oh, hi, Jess. I am . . .”