Trapped by Revenge: A Shelby Nichols Adventure (13 page)

“You could take your husband with you, and tell the judge you heard about the class through a mutual friend and thought you might like to join.”

“What mutual friend is that? You? Won’t that make him suspicious?”

“Probably. But it will get him thinking about me, and that’s what we want, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, unless it freaks him out,” I said. “What kind of relationship do you have anyway? Did you know each other as kids too?” I thought that was a fair question since I wanted to be more prepared than I was tonight.

“No,” Uncle Joey said. “We had an altercation several years back and came to a compromise. Which, I’ll be the first to admit, I haven’t always lived up to. So he might be a little upset with me. But you have to understand that it wasn’t a bargain I ever intended to keep for as long as he thought I should.”

“How long was that?”

“The rest of my life,” he answered.

“And what were you supposed to do… for the rest of your life?” I asked.

“Go to church,” Uncle Joey admitted. “I was supposed to go at least once a month, and I did that for a whole year, but since then, I’ve only made it a few times a year, mostly on holidays. Which I think is pretty damn good, and better than most people.”

“Um… yeah. I think he should be fine with that,” I quickly agreed. “Okay, I guess I’ll talk to Chris and see if he can go with me. I’ll tell the judge I’m your niece and we just moved here from Orlando. Will that work?”

“That will work nicely,” he said.

He gave me the name of the church with the address and told me class started at seven sharp. “Be sure and get there a little early,” he advised. “He doesn’t like late people.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

A few minutes later we pulled in front of my house and Ramos jumped out of the car to open my door. He was feeling sorry for me, but glad it was Chris who had to go instead of him, since churches made him nervous with all that talk of hell and damnation. He figured that’s why Uncle Joey didn’t like going either, and it made perfect sense to me when he put it that way.

He offered me his hand to help me out. I gratefully took it and stood, glancing at the house with relief to find that Chris had left the porch light on. It was nearly midnight, so I wasn’t sure if he’d still be awake. I also hoped he wasn’t still upset with me.

Before dropping my hand, Ramos took the money from his pocket and placed it in my palm. “Don’t forget this,” he said, smiling.

“Thanks,” I smiled back. “Goodnight.”

As I walked to the front door, I knew Ramos was watching to make sure I got in safely. He was also thinking I’d opened a crack in his heart that he wasn’t sure he liked. Although it didn’t bother him like it should, probably because before he knew me, he didn’t remember feeling much of anything. He was also glad I was married, mostly because if I wasn’t, he’d have to stay far away from me, and he liked me too much to want to do that.

I opened the door and sent a little wave back at him, my heart filling with sudden warmth. It was nice to feel like I’d made a difference in his life, and it helped to know he liked me enough to stay friends and not try to be more than that. It kind of made the fact that I liked him back okay, especially since he was glad I was married. It also seemed a bit ironic. I had to admit I cared for Ramos…a lot. I also loved my husband. How crazy was that?

With tonight bringing me no closer to finding the right judge, I had to hope that Chris wanted to go to a bible study class as much as he had wanted to go to the nightclub. Fat chance on that, but still, a part of me looked forward to meeting this judge. From what Uncle Joey had said, I had a feeling that this judge might want to know what Uncle Joey was up to. Enough to spy on him. So this could actually be the judge we were looking for. If he wanted Uncle Joey to go to church, he might be on a mission to save Uncle Joey’s soul, and who knew how far he’d go or what he’d do to accomplish that?

Chris was in bed and sound asleep, but he’d left the bedside lamp on for me. I tiptoed around and got ready for bed, and right before I climbed in, I stashed the cash under my side of the mattress. I got in bed and lay down, but surprisingly enough, the money felt like a big lump underneath me. I could never sleep like this. Maybe if I spread it out it would work, so I slipped out to rearrange it.

“What are you doing?” Chris asked, his voice raspy with sleep. He rose up on one elbow and glanced at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Um…just fixing the bed,” I answered. “When I put the money under the mattress, it kind of got messed up.”

“What money?”

“Um… just the money I won from the poker game.”

He checked the clock on the dresser. It was one in the morning. “Did you just get home?”

“No, I’ve been home for a while. I’ve just been getting ready for bed.” I didn’t want him to think I’d been out that late.

He flopped back down. “So, how did it go? Was that judge the one?”

“No, it wasn’t him,” I answered.

“That’s too bad.” He closed his eyes, ready to go back to sleep. “How much did you win anyway?”

“Five thousand dollars,” I said.

That penetrated through his fog of sleep, and his eyes popped open. “Seriously?”

“Yup,” I said. “I’m just trying to arrange it under the mattress so it’s not in a big lump. I think I’ve got it now.” I got back into bed. This time I couldn’t feel it, so I turned off the lamp and snuggled next to Chris.

“I guess the game went pretty well then. Did you take everything? Even Manetto’s money?” He really hoped I had.

“Yeah, and he even let me keep the thousand he loaned me for betting in the first place.”

“That’s awesome,” he said. “How hard was it?”

“Not bad at all. Keeping track of all their cards turned out to be pretty easy. In fact, I had a lot of fun winning all that money.”

Chris was thinking that five grand wasn’t bad for a night’s work and thought how cool it would be to head down to Las Vegas now that I was a pro. I could do really well and win lots of money. Maybe even enter one of those million dollar jackpots, or even better, the national poker championship. How fun would that be?

Seriously? He sounded just like Uncle Joey, and I wondered if I should point that out. Probably not right now. But if he ever said any of it out loud, I’d tell him for sure. “Frankly, I was surprised they wagered so much, but I guess they’ve got money to burn or I would have felt guilty taking it.”

He huffed. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about taking Manetto’s money. You more than deserve it after everything you’ve done for him.”

“You’re probably right,” I said to placate him. Deciding now would be a good time, I continued. “Which reminds me, do you have any plans for tomorrow night?”

“Wednesday? Um… no, I don’t think so, why?”

“I need your help with something Uncle Joey wants me to do.”

“Really? Did he say it was okay for me to be involved, are you just asking anyway?”

“He said it was okay. I guess because it doesn’t involve guns or anything like that. It’s something even Uncle Joey and Ramos don’t want to do.”

Now he was really curious. “What?”

“Go to a bible study class.”

“Huh? You’ve got to be joking.”

“No,” I said. “I’m serious.” I told him all about Uncle Joey’s deal with the judge and when and where the class was tomorrow.

Chris was thinking he’d really like to meet the judge that got Uncle Joey to go to church. “Sure, I’ll go,” he said. “But you’re going to owe me big time.” He could think of one or two things I could do for him right then.

“You mean like this?” I leaned over and kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around me. “Oh baby, oh baby.”

Chapter 9

The next morning, I decided to call Dimples and see if he would meet me for lunch. I figured if he had learned anything new, he probably wouldn’t tell me, so I needed a face to face chat. He answered on the fourth ring. After exchanging pleasantries I got down to business.

“So, how are things going on my case?”

“Okay,” he answered.

He didn’t say anything else, so I filled in the silence. “I have some new information for you. Remember how you wanted me to share anything with you that I found out?”

“Yes, of course. What is it?”

His voice sounded strained and my stomach tightened. Was he about ready to arrest me? “I’d rather not talk about it over the phone. When do you go to lunch?”

“Um… I could probably meet you at noon, but I don’t have a lot of time.”

“That’s okay, it shouldn’t take long. Hey, is something wrong? You sound different.”

“I’ll tell you at lunch.”

“Okay,” I said. Now my stomach hurt. “Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere away from downtown where we won’t be seen together,” he answered. “How about Ruth’s Diner?”

“Oh sure, I love that place. That should work.”

“Good. See you then.” He disconnected, leaving me a bit disconcerted. Did he find out something new that made me look even guiltier? This could be bad.

Desperate, I punched in Billie’s number, hoping she’d know more about what was going on. Maybe she’d even gotten her hands on Killpack’s files. My call went straight to voicemail, so I left a message to call my cell phone and quickly got ready for the day.

Since I had some time to kill before lunch, the only thing I could think to do was pay a visit to Rebecca Morris’ office. Billie hadn’t thought it would do me any good, but I didn’t have any other leads, and it was worth a shot. Who knew, maybe the killer was someone in her office and I’d find out before I talked with Dimples. Then he could arrest the right person before he arrested me.

It probably wasn’t going to happen, but it didn’t hurt to hope. Plus, thinking that way helped to settle my stomach which was a queasy mess right now. After I put on my standard black pencil skirt and turquoise blouse with a nice pair of patent leather pumps to fit in with the corporate office scene, I was ready to go.

Rebecca was a graphic designer and worked for a high-profile marketing company. From the files on Jim’s case, I knew the office and floor she worked on and who her boss was. I decided to take my chances that I could talk to someone without an appointment, and headed for the eighth floor. As I got off the elevator, I pictured George with the vacuum cleaner and glanced around to see where he might have been standing when Jim left and Rebecca was killed. There was an office I could see from there, but could easily see that if he were facing the other direction, he’d miss something.

I hurried toward that office and peeked inside. A man working on his computer glanced up. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. “Was this Rebecca Morris’ office?”

He frowned, irked and unhappy that he had the unfortunate position of working in the office where a young woman had been killed. He’d been able to put it from his mind until last week when a nosy reporter had come to take a look. And now me? What was going on? Didn’t I know any evidence regarding the case was long gone, and the guy who killed her was convicted and sentenced to death? So what did I want? “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to talk to my supervisor.”

“Okay,” I said. “Sorry to bother you. I guess you didn’t know her very well.”

“Of course I knew her. We all did. She was a wonderful person.” He was thinking I had a lot of nerve to show up here. “Who are you anyway?”

“I’m an old friend,” I improvised, wanting to get his sympathy. “We went to college together, and since I was in town, I thought I’d stop by. We were supposed to go out to lunch the next time I came into town, and she was going to show me her office, but I guess that’s never going to happen now.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” he said, feeling sorry for me. “Yeah, it was a real tragedy. I never thought something like that would happen here.”

“So were you here at the time it happened?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’ve been with the company for several years.”

“Then maybe you can answer my question. Ever since it happened, I haven’t been able to understand how her boyfriend could have killed her. The way she talked they were so in love. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah. None of us here could ever get that either. He was such a nice guy and they’d been together for over a year. It didn’t make sense that he would kill her for staying late. I mean, she did it all the time. But what do I know? I guess sometimes a person can snap and do something horrible like that. But I never got the impression he was one of them.”

“Did you know his execution is next week?” I asked.

“Wow. That fast? That’s kind of creepy.”

“And he still says he didn’t do it,” I added. “Makes you wonder if it was someone else in the office, doesn’t it?”

“Not really,” he said. “There was no reason for anyone here to hurt her. She was kind of the low man on the totem pole and got all the clients none of us wanted, so we all tried to help her out when we could.”

“So you don’t think anyone here had a reason to kill her?” I asked.

“Nope. Not a doubt.” He was thinking there wasn’t a single person in this company who could get upset enough to kill somebody over it. They weren’t that kind of a company. They worked together. Rebecca could have gotten more help if she would have asked. Instead, she was always trying to do everything on her own to prove herself to the rest of them. But killing her for something she did at work? It was ridiculous.

“Well, thanks for your time, and thanks for letting me see her office.”

“You bet,” he answered.

I walked through the floor and listened to everyone’s thoughts, then stopped at the supervisor’s office and basically had the same discussion with her. It didn’t seem like anyone here could have done it. So I went back to my car and decided that Billie was right. No one here had a motive for murder.

As I headed to my lunch with Dimples, my stomach twisted. I was sure he had bad news for me, but since he’d agreed to lunch, that had to mean he wasn’t going to arrest me yet, so that was good. I just hoped it wasn’t bad enough that I couldn’t eat anything.

I arrived a few minutes early and got a table where I could see him when he got there. I had time to order a Diet Coke and drink most of it before he came in and I waved him over. He seemed relieved to see me already seated and quickly sat down.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. “Things are a little crazy at the precinct, and I couldn’t get away as soon as I thought.”

“That’s okay,” I replied. “I haven’t been here too long.” The waiter dropped off our menus and took Dimples’ drink order. While we perused the menus I checked out Dimples’ thoughts, but he was mostly thinking about what to eat, so it wasn’t much help. After placing our orders, Dimples smiled grimly, thinking I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

“I get the feeling you have some bad news for me.” I said. “And you’re trying to decide whether to tell me what it is or not, especially since you’re not even supposed to talk to me. Could you really get dropped from my case just by meeting me for lunch?” I’d picked that up and didn’t like it at all.

Dimples’ jaw dropped, then he snapped his mouth closed and shook his head. “Wow. I’d forgotten how good you are. I can’t hide much from you, can I?” He smiled wryly and his dimples did a little dance in his cheeks.

My stomach calmed just to see them and I smiled back. “Not really. But you’re making me nervous, so you’d better just spit it out.”

“Okay. Here’s the deal. I’ve been going over Killpack’s files and came across one with your name on it. The file itself looked worn, but maybe he re-used them and that explains it, but anyway, it was empty.”

“So someone took everything out of it?” I asked.

He nodded, but he was thinking it could have been me, and it didn’t look good. There was also a phone number written on the outside of the file and circled in red that he found out was the personal cell number for Joey “The Knife” Manetto. He didn’t know what that was doing on the folder, but anyone else would think it tied me to Manetto. Keeping Killpack quiet about my association with Manetto could be the motive they were looking for. For some, it would be enough to put me behind bars.

“Oh my gosh!” I said, but quickly added, “You think I took it? If I’d done it, I certainly wouldn’t have left the empty folder for you guys to find. That’s just stupid.”

“No, Shelby, I don’t think you took it, but I’m not the only one involved in this investigation.” He was thinking that the new detective, Bates, had it in for me. He was more than ready to pin the murder on me, and Dimples had barely hidden the folder before Bates or anyone else had seen it. The way things were going, it was a good thing he had, or I’d probably be in jail right now.

“Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed again. “Things look really bad don’t they?”

Dimples thought I wasn’t taking this very well, and it made him a little nervous since he hadn’t even told me the worst of it. “I’m doing everything I can,” he said. “But I could sure use a new lead right now. I’m kind of stuck at a dead end. What did you want to talk about?” He was hoping I had something that would keep me out of jail, because right now things didn’t look so good for me. In fact, it was only a matter of time before they arrested me.

I tried to pull myself together, but my hands were shaking, and my stomach hurt. Before I could tell him anything, the waiter brought our food. He placed the gourmet burger and fries I’d ordered right in front of me. I was so upset that the smell made me a little nauseated.

The waiter noticed my grimace. “Is there something wrong miss?” he asked.

“Oh… no,” I lied. “It looks great. Thanks.” As soon as he left I pushed the food to the side and took another gulp of my diet soda. Dimples thought I looked a little sick with my pale face and desperate eyes. It sent a stab of pain through his heart, and he hoped I could manage to keep it together.

“You really should eat,” he said. “It might help you feel better.” He was sorry for upsetting me, but under that thought, his practical side was thinking I should enjoy my food while I could. They didn’t serve anything as good as this in prison.

Was he serious? Did he really think I was going to jail? After I got over the shock, irritation surged through me, so I grabbed a golden fry and popped it into my mouth. It tasted pretty good, so I ate a few more until my stomach settled down, then I started on the burger.

He was right about the food helping me feel better, but I couldn’t quite forgive him about thinking the prison part yet. Of course, he’d saved me by hiding the file, so I couldn’t begrudge him for his thoughts, especially since he hadn’t said anything out loud.

After a few bites, I’d had enough and was ready to talk. “Thanks for hiding the folder,” I began. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

He dropped his fork. “I never said…”

“Oh,” I blurted. “Sorry… my bad. Sometimes, my premonitions tell me things. Just forget I said that, okay?”

“Sure,” he answered, thinking I was downright scary sometimes. It was almost like I’d heard his thoughts and that was just plain creepy.

I closed my eyes and took a calming breath. Why was I being such a dork? I didn’t need to antagonize or scare my only friend in the police department. What was I thinking? “Sorry,” I said again. “I’m just so rattled over this that I can hardly think straight, and things just burst out of my mouth. Anyway, what I wanted to tell you was this. I can’t tell you my source, but I found out Killpack was working for a judge. I don’t know any more than that, but it might have something to do with his death.”

Dimples shook his head. How could working for a judge make him end up dead?

I had to give him more than that so I continued. “I also found out that Killpack was investigating Rebecca Morris’ murder, you know, the one that had the same MO as mine? Billie Payne told me about that, and she said she told you too.”

“Right,” Dimples said, his brows tightening. He was nervous about where I was going with this.

“We visited the janitor who found Rebecca after she was shot and he told us about a private investigator who’d also been around asking the same questions. It turns out it was Sam Killpack. The janitor also told us about a feeling he had that he wasn’t alone in the room while he was trying to help Rebecca. He shared that with Sam too. It never came out in the trial, and now Killpack is dead. Now that doesn’t seem like so much of a coincidence, does it?”

Dimples grimaced. “So what you’re saying is that Sam was murdered because of what he found out about Rebecca Morris’ murder, and it’s all tied up to a judge who’s somehow involved?”

“Yes,” I said. Dimples wasn’t sure how this was supposed to help, so I continued to reason it out for him. “I think there’s a connection between the murders, and finding that connection should lead us to the killer. I mean… obviously the same person that killed Rebecca also killed Killpack. Have you done any research on that?”

“But the person who killed Rebecca is in jail,” Dimples protested.