Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery (13 page)

After Marcus left, I returned to the great room.

“I’ve finished ironing your shirts, dear, what now?” Maggie asked. I gave her a big bear hug and made a face at the girls over her shoulder. My daughter forced a smile I knew she didn’t feel.

“Right now we’re all piling into the Escalade and going to the girls’ schools. We need to explain the situation to their teachers and tell them Julie and Amanda Jane will be away for a few days. While we’re there, we can pick up homework assignments and anything else they need.”

The trip took longer than expected. When we got back to the estate a little after four, there was an official Wake County vehicle parked in front of the main house behind the police cruiser.

Maggie glanced as we pulled into the drive. “I wonder who that is,” she said.

“It’s probably Mr. Skelnik,” I said. “He’s here to pick up my computer.”

I slid the Escalade into the garage and parked next to Maggie’s Bentley. The ladies went into the main house, and I walked down the driveway to meet Mr. Skelnik.

Vernon Skelnik was a stereotypical computer geek. He was skinny and pale, wearing black jeans and a white shirt with a black tie loosened at the neck. His hair was ruffled, and he had on glasses with thick black frames, but without white adhesive tape on the bridge. And he wore black canvas high-top basketball shoes. Yes, basketball shoes!

We shook hands, and the two of us walked back to the guesthouse. Once inside, we took off our jackets, and he immediately noticed the gun tucked in my belt.

“Sorry.” I said. “Things are a little crazy right now.” I removed the weapon, unloaded it, and put it in the desk drawer.

There were two knocks on the door, and Maggie walked in. She smiled and introduced herself to Vernon. “Hi. I’m Margaret, Ben’s wife.”

“I’m Vernon Skelnik. Very pleased to meet you, ma’am. I’ll try not to take too long.”

Maggie adjusted the plantation shutters on the front window to let the afternoon sun shine in. “We’re ordering pizzas for dinner,” she said to me. “Pepperoni okay?”

“Sounds great. Vernon?”

“No, thank you. I have to get back after this.”

I showed Vernon to my desk. “Here’s my computer, but I need the data on it. I handed him the portable storage drive. “Can we take a few minutes and copy some files onto this? I’ll show you what I care about, and then you can keep the computer as long as you want.”

“Sure,” Vernon said, “I can do that.” He started it up. “What’s the password?”

“It’s … uh.” I hesitated.

Maggie had crossed the room to leave, but stopped with her hand on the doorknob, and peered back at me. She smelled a rat.

“
1richbitch
, all lower case,” I muttered meekly.

Maggie narrowed her eyes and shot flames at me.

“It’s a loving thing,” I said to her, “like when we first met. Remember?” The door slammed, and she was gone. Damn. I grimaced and Vernon grinned. He copied the files, took the computer, and left.

Amanda Jane was on the phone when I got back to the main house. I looked at Maggie and mouthed, “Who is it?”

“Patty,” Maggie whispered. Patty was Jennifer’s sister.

When Amanda Jane hung up, she looked uneasily at Maggie and me. “Aunt Patty wants me to come and live with her, but I said no. I want to be here. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

Maggie put her arms around Amanda Jane and brushed the hair back from her fresh young face. “Of course, sweetheart. This is your home.”

“She also asked if I wanted to help make the arrangements for Mom.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said.

“No, I want to, Daddy. I think she’s going to do it Monday, but she’s going to let me know.”

“I don’t like it,” I said.

Maggie intervened. “Ben, it’s her mom.”

The look on my daughter’s face told me how important it was to her. “All right,” I said, “but I’m going with you. That maniac is still out there, and I’m not letting you go alone. I’ll wait for you in the car.” A puzzled look was on Amanda Jane’s face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Aunt Patty sure doesn’t like you very much. How come, Daddy?”

“Well,” I said, “in a roundabout way, she probably blames me for what happened to your mom.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

What I had told Amanda Jane was true. Patty did blame me for her sister’s death, but there was more to it than that.

Three years earlier, when Jennifer and I were at the end of our marital rope, she had taken Amanda Jane to Seattle to visit a friend. While they were gone, Patty showed up at our house in hysterics. Her husband, Michael, had left her—for another man. She’d had no clue that he was gay, and she was crushed. I brought her in and tried to comfort her as she sobbed and spilled out her heart.

When she’d regained some semblance of control, she asked for a glass of wine. We talked our way through a couple of very good bottles of cabernet, and I helped her start making plans to pick up the pieces of her life. I told her she was a beautiful, desirable woman, and she didn’t need Michael. At some point, she put her arms around me, and I held her, and one thing had led to another—and we ended up in bed together. It had been one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

The next morning, when she’d realized what had happened, she cursed me, accusing me of betraying her and taking advantage of her vulnerability.

Neither of us ever breathed a word about it to Jennifer. Patty eventually met a wonderful, straight man and married him last year, but it made little difference in our relationship. She still hated me to this day.

I headed back to the main house, and the family sat down to a dinner as normal as possible under the circumstances. Pizza by itself
was not a proper dinner
, so Roberta had prepared a fantastic Greek salad to go with it. As we ate, she covertly watched over Amanda Jane, and inventoried every morsel she took in. We finished dinner with Roberta’s homemade spumoni and lighthearted chatter. I knew my daughter was grateful that we were all there for her, and she courageously forced a small smile while I knew her heart was breaking.

After dinner the girls took Oscar outside and then went upstairs to do whatever teenage girls do when their parents aren’t in the same room. Later on, sleeping arrangements were the same as the night before, including the watchful eyes of the two police cruisers outside. Surprisingly, I fell asleep quickly.

CHAPTER 20

Saturday morning, Roberta prepared a breakfast spread of Belgian waffles, Applewood smoked bacon, scrambled eggs, cranberry almond scones, and fresh fruit.

After we finished, we all went our separate ways around the estate. The girls took Oscar out and giggled as he darted erratically around the grounds, chasing a ball. He was in doggie heaven.

I headed to the master sitting room and played the recorded video of my interview with Sally Briggum. Lainie thought there was something in it that Plum connected with, but I couldn’t see what it could possibly be. I played it again. Still nothing. After watching it several more times, I was still clueless. If there was something there, it wasn’t obvious to me.

There were two voicemail messages when I got out of the shower. The first one was from a Jaguar service representative telling me my car would be ready to be picked up after four. The second message was from Netter. As I expected, our police security coverage would be cut back starting tonight. There would only be one car with two officers from eight in the evening until six the next morning.

The early afternoon was spent reading the newspaper accounts of the Plum killings, including Jennifer’s murder which had a headline that said “
Cary Resident Latest Victim of Headless Corpse Killer
”.

I got into the Escalade but left Pure Reason in the glove compartment. It was time to stop at Triangle Electronics and buy a new computer. Ninety minutes later, I brought it back to the estate and placed it in the guesthouse where I would set it up later. But first, I had to go pick up my car. Maggie was going to take me, but she wanted to leave right away, so she would be back before dark.

I looked at Julie and winked. “Hey, munchkin, today’s the day if you still want to cruise in my car.”

“Really? Yes! Yes! Yes!” She did a little dance and yelled up the stairs. “Amanda! Hurry! We’re going for a ride … in your dad’s Jag.”

“What’s the big deal? She’s been in that car dozens of times.” Maggie squinted at me. “What are you up to? You’d better not fill them up with ice cream before dinner,” she said.

Maggie dropped us off at Cary Jaguar at four fifteen, but the car wasn’t quite ready yet, and the time we spent waiting was painful. Everyone at the dealership was aware of what had happened, and I could feel them staring in sympathy.

My sensitivity was short-lived when my brother George called and proceeded to rip me for not calling my mother and dad to tell them firsthand about Jennifer’s murder. The highlight of the conversation was when he said, “Dad’s fit to be tied.”

I hadn’t intended to hide anything from my family—it just wasn’t high on my priority list to give them a play-by-play report just then. So much had happened over the prior three days—and they all lived in the Chicago suburbs—there wasn’t anything they could do about it anyway.

Finally, George said, “Mom wants to know if she and Dad should come out there and be with you.”

“Good god, no! That’s all I need. I have enough stress as it is. Please tell them Amanda Jane and I are fine, and I’ll call them tomorrow.” I hung up.

My car was finally ready at ten minutes before five. Julie jumped in the passenger seat and Amanda Jane climbed in back. We took the car for a brief test ride to make sure it handled right. It was good as new.

I turned west on Route 64, and we drove to a new supermarket under construction in Apex. They had just paved the parking lot, and it was pristine.

Julie beamed at me. “Amanda, too!” she declared.

“But, of course,” I replied. Amanda Jane had no idea what was happening. I pulled the car to a stop and killed the engine. Julie and I got out and switched places.

“Now cool your jets for a minute. Adjust the seat so you can comfortably reach the pedals and see out the windshield … and adjust your mirrors. And one more thing before we do this. It’s just between the three of us. Your mom can’t know.” Julie nodded, shaking with excitement.

Amanda Jane’s eyes got as big as saucers. “What? We’re gonna drive?”

“Yep. You’re gonna drive.” Amanda Jane squealed with delight. This time her smile was genuine.

After I gave a dead serious lesson on how the car operated, Julie pushed the button to start the engine. She turned the transmission selector to drive and began creeping across the parking lot. After a few minutes, she had the confidence to accelerate to fifteen miles per hour.

“Amanda! I’m driving.”

“If you girls want,” I said, “I can turn on my gazillion-watt, moldy-Dolby surround sound system and find some music you like.”

Julie laughed and said, “Ben, do you have any idea what kind of music we like? I never see you listening to any new music. I mean … do you even know any pop singers from this century?”

I pretended to be insulted. “Of course, I know pop singers! There’s Brittany Spears and Madonna and Lady Gaga and, uh … Justin, uh, Timberwolf—” The two of them roared with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” I asked. Julie was out of control, so I turned and looked back at Amanda Jane.

She rolled her eyes and grinned from ear to ear. “Dad,” she said, “you are such a dork. But I love you so much.” More hysterical laughter.

“But what’s so funny?” I repeated. They didn’t respond.

Every few minutes one of them would start growling like an animal. Then, they’d crack up. I still don’t get it.

For the next hour they took turns driving my car around the parking lot. They would have stayed all night, but we had to get back for dinner. Finally, I took the wheel, and we headed home.

We got back to the estate just in time for the girls to help set the table for dinner. Today’s gourmet special was broiled flounder filets with sage brown butter sauce, caramelized carrot risotto with mascarpone cheese, roasted asparagus and cherry tomatoes with goat cheese and balsamic vinaigrette, and a basket of freshly baked, warm homemade bread. Roberta served grilled pineapple slices with a scoop of vanilla ice cream in the middle for dessert. I started my plan to leave Maggie for Roberta.

The girls excused themselves after dinner and went upstairs while the rest of us remained at the table and finished a second bottle of sauvignon blanc. Nora, who’d been fairly quiet since Thursday, dominated the conversation by talking about old times she’d experienced with Maggie’s father. It was a welcome distraction.

The police security detail arrived on time, and Oscar and I went out to the guesthouse. It took an hour and forty-five minutes to setup and configure my new computer and install the software. It would have been quicker, but Oscar wanted up on my lap where he
helped
for a while before eventually falling asleep. He had his nose on the keyboard and I had to lift it every time I needed to type an a,s,z, or x.

When we returned to the main house, everyone but Maggie had retired for the night. The sofa was made up again, and she was curled up on it reading a novel. I leaned down and gently kissed her on the neck.

She looked up at me with her beautiful brown eyes as I pulled her into my arms and kissed her again. She twinkled with mischief as she reached over and turned off the light.

“Take off your clothes,” she said, “and climb in here with me … but
you
have to be quiet.”

CHAPTER 21

The next morning, I called my parents after breakfast and did my best to mend fences with them and the rest of the family. The conversation was tense, and it gave my dad the perfect opportunity to deliver his favorite line. “Why couldn’t you have gone into engineering like your brothers?” As usual, he droned on, “Look what you’ve done! Ya know, you used to have a level head on your shoulders, but after Christine’s death, you changed. And now you’ve put your family in danger.”