Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 3) (35 page)

Chapter 29

Carter’s “hacker” friend, Danny, lived in the basement of his mother’s house in Salem. He was nineteen years old, morbidly obese, and his skin was so pale, I wondered if he was allergic to the sun.

“Dude, how’s it going?” Danny said to Carter. “Been a long time.”

“Yes it has.”

“So,” Danny waved his hands in a circular motion. “What do you think of my new set up? Pretty sweet, huh?”

Carter made a show of looking around the basement. “Nice digs.”

Danny laughed. “You’re a lying sack of shit but, heck, it’s good to see you anyway, man. Who’s your chick?”

I couldn’t remember the last time anyone ever called me a chick but sure enough, Danny was pointing right at me.

“Oh,” Carter said, nodding in my direction. “This is Sarah. We work together.”

Danny held out his sweaty hand to me. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

I rolled my eyes. Was this kid for real? I didn’t want to shake his sweaty hand so I offered my fist instead.

Danny boy laughed as he bumped fists with me. When he turned back to Carter he said, “You know how to pick your partners. She’s a bona fide hottie.”

“Hey,” I said to him with an admonishing tone. “Have a little respect, would ya? I’m old enough to be your mother.”

Danny boy gave Carter a wink. “I like my women feisty, too.”

I shook my head in disgust. The only way he’d get a woman is if he paid for her. And even then … yikes, the visual was just too disturbing.

Carter ignored Danny’s remark and got down to business. “I need you to find the identity of an anonymous donor.”

“Like a sperm donor?” Danny replied.

“No. This person paid for cancer treatments for a patient named Raul Thompson.”

“Sure. What other information do you have?”

Carter said, “The intermediary is Fidelity Charitable Trust. The doctor who treated Raul is Dr. Carl Fishburn at the Burlington Medical Facility. The payment was made in the last few months.”

Danny boy got to work on his computer, his fingers clicking on the keyboard. It sounded like Morse code, but a hundred times faster.

Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to scan my surroundings. I had no idea how long we’d be here. There was nowhere to sit, except for the lumpy bed on the far side of the room. No thanks, I’ll pass.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for Danny boy to get the information we needed. “Here we go. Looks like a payment to the Burlington Medical Facility in the amount of $52,400.32 came from a Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Dunaway.”

Carter turned to me. “Does the name ring a bell?”

I wracked my brain for a connection. “No, it doesn’t.”

Carter asked Danny. “You got an address?”

“Sure. Hillcrest Road, Bedford, New Hampshire.”

Carter handed Danny boy a wad of bills. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be in touch.”

Danny boy pocketed the money with a smirk. “My pleasure, bro. Thank you for providing me a little eye candy. Can’t remember the last time I saw a beautiful woman up close.”

Chapter 30

On our way to Bedford, Carter said, “I’m sorry about Danny boy. I should have given you a heads up. He might be socially inept, but he’s a genius with computers.”

“Socially inept?” I said. “I think rude and disgusting is a more accurate description of that kid.”

Carter chuckled. “Sorry he offended you. Try to take it as a compliment.”

“Oh sure. I’m so incredibly flattered that a four-hundred pound albino thinks I’m hot.”

“Do me a favor,” Carter said, eager to change the subject. “Could you do some research on Alfred Dunaway. I wanna know who this guy is.”

I did a Google search and found an article. “Alfred Dunaway is a self-made millionaire, entrepreneur, who made a fortune in real-estate in the nineties. He and his wife Kathleen, known for their magnanimous contributions to charities worldwide, dedicate their lives to helping those less fortunate.”

I found a photo of Alfred Dunaway and it showed an elderly man in his late eighties, with whisper thin grey hair and liver spotted skin. “This photo was taken last year,” I said. “

Carter glanced at it. “These people are the real deal, huh.”

“I guess so,” I said. “And I was so sure this would somehow lead us back to Gregory. But once again, it’s just a dead end and a big waste of our time.”

“We’re only ten minutes away from Bedford. We might as well stop by and see if they’re home.”

The Dunaway Estate was situated on a pristine plot of land surrounded by acres of nature preserve. There was no pretention about the massive farmhouse, in fact, no security gate or obvious security measures at all. The place, although quite grand, had a relaxed vibe about it. Maybe it was because of the tire swing hanging in the front yard on an ancient willow tree.

We parked behind an old green Subaru which must have belonged to someone other than the Dunaway’s. A maid or cook, perhaps.

“Well,” I said, pointing to it. “It looks like someone is home.”

Carter and I walked up to the entrance and used the antique golden knocker that made a satisfying loud thud on the wooden door. A few moments later, the door opened and a well-preserved older woman smiled at us. She was probably in her late seventies, but could pass for sixty.

“Good afternoon,” she said. “Can I help you?”

Carter returned the smile and said, “Good afternoon, ma’am. Are you Mrs. Dunaway?”

The woman nodded, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “Yes.”

Carter introduced us as private detectives and I showed her my credentials. “We have a few questions about a donation you made a few months ago.”

Mrs. Dunaway invited us into the house, but I sensed some reluctance as she showed us to a formal sitting area.

Once we were all settled, she sat up straight, smiled pleasantly and said, “Now what’s this about a donation?”

“Yes,” Carter said. “It’s been brought to our attention that you and your husband generously donated over fifty thousand dollars to the Burlington Medical Facility to cover the cost of a cancer treatment for Raul Thompson. I assume you have knowledge of this?”

She placed her perfectly manicured hands in her lap and nodded. “Yes, well, I must admit, I don’t make the decisions when it comes to picking the charities. My husband prefers to take care of that. It’s like a hobby for him now. He’s been ill for a few years, and doesn’t get out of bed very often. Doing the charity work gives him something to do with his mind, you see. It gives him purpose.”

“Is your husband home right now?” Carter asked.

“Yes. But like I said, he’s bound to his bedroom. I suppose if it’s a serious matter, I could arrange for you to go up and see him in his room.”

Carter mashed his lips together, thinking it over. Finally, he shook his head. “That’s not really necessary, ma’am. We don’t want to inconvenience anyone. I just have one more question, if you don’t mind. Do you or your husband know a Derek Thompson or a Gregory Frazier?”

She took a moment, then said, “No, I’m sorry. Those names don’t sound familiar.”

“Approximately how much money a year do you donate to charity?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say we give away at least half a million dollars to various organizations every year.”

“And you always give anonymously?”

“Not always.” She tilted her head. “Could you tell me what this is all about?”

“Actually,” Carter said. “We’ve already taken up too much of your time. We really appreciate your help.”

“My pleasure,” she said.

As we walked back to the car, my cell phone vibrated. It was Candice.

“Hey, Sarah,” she said, sounding out of breath. “I just got a call from Greta Stone. She just sent me a file. A chapter outline of the autobiography.”

I felt a twinge of hope blossom in my chest. “Finally, some good news. Have you had a chance to read it?”

“No. I just got out of class and I’m heading home right now to Aunt Shelly’s. Can you meet me there?”

“Yeah. We’re on our way.” I sighed. “There’s a lot of stuff I need to tell you, Candice. It’s been a stressful day.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Raul’s brother Derek is dead. He sped away in his car when we tried to talk to him. He must be involved in the poisoning, but we have no idea why. I’m hoping the file Greta sent you will give us some answers.”

Chapter 31

When Carter and I got to Shelly’s home half an hour later, Candice greeted us at the door, dressed in jeans and a flowery tank top. When I noticed the deadpan expression on her face and the glazed look in her eyes, I knew something was wrong. And I had a feeling I knew why.

“Candice, did you read the file?”

She nodded slowly. “I think I figured out what my mom wanted to talk to me about on the night she died. She wanted to tell me the truth about her past because she was planning on writing about it in her book.”

I paused. “Does this have anything to do with Gregory?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “This happened long before she met Gregory. Long before I was even born.”

I figured it must be about the abortions that Melanie had when she was just a teenager.

Candice stared at her hands. They were shaking. “I guess I can understand why my mom never wanted to tell me about Aunt Shelly. But I still can’t believe she was going to write about it in her book.”

I froze. “What?”

Candice sighed. “Aunt Shelly got into a lot of trouble when she was younger. She was promiscuous, had two abortions, and she made my mother promise not to tell anyone, not even their parents. Mom has felt guilty about it her whole life.”

When I glanced at Carter, he returned my gaze with a taut expression. I knew what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing. When I looked at Candice, she seemed lost in her own troubled world.

“Candice,” I said, getting her attention. “I should probably tell you something. You’re aunt lied to me. She told me it was your mother who had the abortions.”

Candice shook her head in disbelief. “So, what does this mean?”

“Maybe your mom has resented her all these years because she knew that Shelly was a fraud. Maybe she wanted to expose her. Think about it. Shelly is ensconced in the church community. If the truth got out about the abortions, can you imagine the ridicule she’d receive from the parishioners of her church? In some religions, abortion is the equivalent of murder.”

Candice had that blank stare of a person in shock. “What do we do now?”

I said, “We need to prove that Shelly convinced Derek to poison her sister. Does your aunt have a laptop?”

“Yes.”

Carter abruptly got to his feet. “If you’ll allow me, I can do a quick search and see what turns up.”

She bit her lip, thinking it over. Finally, she said, “Okay. Her bedroom is upstairs. Do it quickly please as she’ll be home from work soon.”

Carter disappeared and I put a gentle hand on Candice’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “I should have known there was a reason why Aunt Shelly was being so nice to me after my mom died. She never seemed to have much interest in me before. Inviting me to come live with her, it was all because she wanted to keep me in her control.”

“It never occurred to me until now, but maybe Shelly was the one who deleted all the files on your mom’s laptop after you came to live with her. She could have easily done that while you were in the shower or otherwise occupied. The thing I can’t figure out is how she convinced Derek to poison the joint. Does your aunt know the Dunaway’s? They’re a wealthy couple who donate millions of dollars to charities.”

Candice looked at me. “Aunt Shelly works for them.”

My brain almost exploded. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. She goes there a few times a week, takes care of the old guy. He’s practically on his death bed.”

Finally, all the pieces started to fall into place. Shelly had mentioned days ago that she worked as a caretaker, but we never bothered to ask who she worked for. She could have somehow convinced Alfred Donahue to make a donation for Raul, but why would she do that unless it benefited her in some way.

When Carter came down the stairs and into the kitchen, he said, “I looked everywhere. I couldn’t find a laptop, but I did find this.” He held up a take out menu for Papa Johns Pizza.

It clicked. “That’s where Derek works,” I said.

The distinct sound of the garage door opening made Candice stiffen. I followed her gaze out the window toward the street. An old green Subaru inched its way into the garage.

Of course, it was the same green Subaru parked at the Donahue’s home.

I turned to Candice whose face had gone completely white. She was frozen in place, like a statue. “What do we do now?”

I glanced at Carter and said, “I have an idea. Just go along with it, okay?”

He gave me that look, but said nothing more.

When Aunt Shelly walked into the kitchen, she seemed a little surprised to see us. “Don’t let me interrupt your meeting,” she said. “I’m just going to head upstairs and change my clothes. It’s been a long day.”

“By the way,” I said to Shelly. “We have some good news.”

She stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Really? What is it?”

“Carter and I found out who poisoned your sister. It wasn’t Jasmine.”

Shelly blinked a few times, then finally said, “Oh? Then who was it?”

“Derek Thompson,” I said.

“Who is he?”

“Raul’s younger brother,” I said. “Jasmine helped us put it together. When we went to his home to confront him, he took off. He was in a near fatal car accident.”

She stared at me. “Will he be okay?”

“Yes. He’s very lucky. He’s at the hospital now recovering from his injuries under police supervision. I just got a call from one of the detectives and apparently Derek has made a full confession. I don’t have all the details yet, but it looks like he has implicated someone as the mastermind behind the poisoning.”

Shelly swallowed hard. “Has he said a name?”

“Yes, but the police haven’t released that information yet. We’re heading over to the hospital right now to find out. Would you like to come with us?”

A long pause. “Why don’t I meet you over there in a little while. I’d like to take a quick shower and change my clothes first.”

“We can wait for you,” I said.

She waved a hand. “Don’t be silly. This is exciting news. Don’t let me keep you. Go on over there, and I’ll meet you shortly.”

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll see you over there.”

I took Candice by the arm and led her out the door. She never once looked at her aunt.

We didn’t head to the hospital. We drove down the street a block, turned the car around, and parked. We had a clear shot of Shelly’s house while we waited. Ten minutes went by.

“Do you think she bought my story,” I asked Carter.

“Of course she did,” he said. “You were very convincing.”

I could take no pride in the compliment, especially when Candice was sitting in the back seat, trying to deal with the reality that her aunt was probably responsible for her mother’s death.

But we still weren’t sure about that.

At least, not until we saw the taxi pull up in front of Shelly’s house.

Carter pointed. “Looks like your plan worked.”

I let out a gasp when I saw Shelly dash out the front door with a small suitcase. She quickly got into the back seat of the cab, and they took off.

I wanted to scream with joy, but I kept it inside. This might have been a victory for me and Carter, but not for the girl sitting behind me.

“Where do you suppose she’s going?” Carter asked.

“As far away from here as possible, I suspect.”

I glanced into the back seat, where Candice sobbed quietly. I wanted to say something to ease her pain, but what could I say? She’d wanted to know the truth about her mother’s death.

And sometimes the truth sucks.

We followed the taxi to Boston’s Logan International Airport where Shelly got dropped off at the international terminal. She disappeared into the crowd, never to be seen again.

There was no point in calling the cops. They couldn’t arrest her because without some hard evidence to prove that she conspired to kill her sister, she was free to go.

Derek was dead. He couldn’t rat her out. The only hope we had left was to find something in Shelly’s laptop or phone records connecting her to Derek and the poisoning. Even if we did, chances were it wouldn’t be enough to inspire the FBI to put her on the most wanted list.

“She’ll be on the run for the rest of her life, looking over her shoulder,” I said. “I can’t imagine she’ll ever come back now. Even when she finds out that Derek is dead and that I lied about his confession.”

“Does the punishment fit the crime?” Carter asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Probably not.”

We went back to Shelly’s house and found her laptop in the Subaru. Carter took his time with it at the kitchen table, and what he discovered in her search history was the incriminating evidence we’d hoped for.

Weeks before Melanie’s death, Shelly had Googled websites on easily attainable poisons. She’d visited a website with instructions on how to lace a joint. Through her research, Shelly had visited numerous sites about water hemlock.

“The internet is a wonderful yet frightening thing,” I said to Carter. “It’s probably one of the worst weapons out there for crazy people like Shelly. Knowledge is power, and not always in a good way.”

“She also has a program,” Carter said. “Similar to one we use for our business. Type in a person’s name and you get their criminal history. She was doing her own background checks on Jasmine, Raul, and Derek. When she saw that Derek had a rap sheet, she probably figured he was the most likely candidate to go along with her plan.”

“Okay,” I said. “But how did she contact him?”

Carter said, “My guess? Shelly didn’t go to their apartment to convince Jasmine to stop selling weed to her sister. She wanted to assess their situation. When she saw how sick Raul was, how desperate they were for money, she probably figured one of them would jump at the chance to help her.”

“So, I think it’s safe to assume that Shelly found out where Derek worked. She ordered a pizza from Papa John’s and when Derek came to the house to deliver it, she made him a deal he couldn’t refuse. All Derek had to do was make the poisoned joint, then switch it out with Melanie’s while Jasmine wasn’t looking.”

It all made sense. But I still couldn’t believe that Derek would let Jasmine go to jail for it. Then I realized what would have happened. “If Derek came forward and confessed, he would have gone to jail for a long time with his criminal record. Maybe twenty years or more.”

“He was desperate to save his brother,” Carter said. “He probably figured it was his only chance to do something before it was too late. Don’t get me wrong - I’m not justifying his decision, just trying to understand it.”

“So, how did Shelly convince her employer to donate the fifty grand for Raul’s cancer treatment?”

“Well, Shelly could have easily manipulated the old man. Either that, or she signed off on the transaction without his knowledge. We could go back, talk to the Dunaway’s and try to find out, but I don’t think it’s worth upsetting them at this point. Shelly probably isn’t coming back anytime soon.”

I checked my watch. 7:30pm. “We need to take Shelly’s laptop to the police as soon as possible. I think this might be enough to convince a judge to let Jasmine go free.”

“Let’s not get our hopes up.”