Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery (35 page)

Angelo and the Brackus technicians had finished the final checkout of the security system. There were three control consoles: one in the main house master closet, one in the guesthouse master closet, and one in the closet of Roberta’s bedroom suite. Whichever one had a security code entered into it last had control. There were also two levels of security codes. The one given to Maggie and me could override the codes given to Roberta and the rest of the family.

Angelo tutored me on the different zones and how to arm the system and disarm it. There were twenty-three cameras strategically located around the estate. Eight of them were on the inside of the two living residences; the rest were outside. Six monitors at each control console showed six live preset default camera views at different exterior locations. But there was an option to switch to any of the other cameras, including those in the houses. After seeing the remarkable detail of the high-resolution video feed, I made a mental note not to scratch my ass within camera view.

We finished by programming one of the built-in remotes in my Jag to open the motorized driveway front gate. We did the same thing with the Bentley, but the Escalade would have to wait until the family returned. The estate was finally secured, and a huge pressure was lifted off my shoulders.

When the security team left, I fiddled around with the system for a while, procrastinating. I did not want to make this next call. After putting it off long enough, I forced myself to work up the nerve and called Maggie. We asked how each other was and said how much we missed each other and just wanted to get back to normal. I finally manned up and spilled it out. I told Maggie about my relationship with Plum, and also about the blowout between Dad and me. I told her I didn’t even know who I really was and asked if it made a difference to her. Until I’d actually said it, I hadn’t realized I was terrified she wouldn’t want me anymore.

“I don’t care who you are or where you came from, Ben. Or whatever the hell your name is. I love you, and I’ll never let you go.”

When I hung up the phone, I could have just sat down on the floor and cried like a baby.  I was so relieved. But I still hadn’t told her about Christine. That discussion would have to wait until Maggie and the family returned.

At six o’clock, I left to pick up Lainie. I had managed to keep myself busy until then, but now the thought of her leaving upset me. In the last twenty-four hours, I’d experienced more emotions than I’d ever thought possible. Maybe it was time to get myself some Midol.

Lainie was ready when I pulled up, and she came running out to the car. I stowed her business bag in the trunk, and we left. She needed to pick up the things she’d left at her apartment, so we headed to the Executive Residence Suites in Raleigh.

She cringed as she opened the door to her apartment. This time it was in better shape, though. There were still empty beer and soda cans, but they were neatly lined up on the kitchen counter for recycling. There were no cigar ashes in a cereal bowl, and the toilet seat was down. Will wonders ever cease?

An hour later, Lainie had packed up her things and returned her key cards to the front desk. I talked her into leaving her rental car there. We could pick it up on the way to the airport the next morning.

We stopped at Harvey’s Steak and Lobster House for dinner. I chose an eight-ounce filet mignon wrapped in bacon. Lainie had North Atlantic salmon with a honey pecan glaze. We opted for wine by the glass to keep our consumption low. Neither of us said much as we adjusted to the idea of separating. I avoided the topic and told her about the new whiz-bang security system. She filled me in on what she knew about the murders of the four teenage girls in Baltimore. It was terrible, but it brought my feeling of impending loss back into perspective.

We returned to the guesthouse a little after nine. When I opened the door to the patio, Oscar raced out triggering the motion sensor. Floodlights lit up the entire area between the two residences like there was a jailbreak. Lainie and I looked at each other, impressed. The lights turned off again shortly after Oscar came back inside.

“Whiz-bang,” Lainie said.

I watched TV as Lainie packed her things. I didn’t know what I was even watching. She made a cup of chamomile tea and came over to the sofa to change my arm bandage. As she worked, we looked at each other out of the corners of our eyes.

When she gathered the supplies up and started to leave, I reached out and held her arm.

“Lainie … ”

She looked deep into my eyes. “Yes, I would like to … but we’re not going to.” She kissed me on the cheek and retired to Amanda Jane’s bedroom.

I sat there in the dark for a long time petting Oscar’s smooth velvety ears. A deep, painful emptiness had settled in the pit of my stomach. I stretched out on the sofa with him, breathed a deep sigh, and closed my eyes.

CHAPTER 50

Thursday morning was sunny with clear blue skies. I knew an airline pilot once who would have called it
severe clear
. It seemed unimaginable that potentially dangerous and damaging thunderstorms would roll in later in the day.

We left shortly before seven, and I drove to our now favorite Starbucks drive-thru to pick up a venti latte with an extra shot for Lainie. A few minutes later, we pulled in next to her rental car, and I killed the engine.

“I’m going with you to the airport,” I said. “I’ll come back for my car in a taxi.”

“No,” she insisted. “This is hard enough as it is.”

Lainie took a sip of coffee and looked around the Jag’s interior. “I’m really going to miss you … and this mighty fine car,” she said. “Look at all these buttons and gadgets.” She peered at the overhead rearview mirror and squinted. “What are these little buttons underneath here?”

“Programmable garage door transmitters,” I said. “This first one opens the driveway main gate; the second one opens the guesthouse garage, and the third opens the main house garage.”

“Nice,” she said. “I have one of those clicker things. Sometimes I forget to put it in the door pocket where I usually keep it, and then I can’t find the damn thing.”

I popped the trunk, and we both got out of the car. I walked around and pulled her to me and hugged her tight. She buried her face in my chest, and we just stood there in silence under the clear blue sky, clinging to one another.

When we let go, she said, “You take care of yourself.”

I wasn’t sure I could talk. “You, too. I’m going to miss you.”

She wiped at her eyes as I pulled her two bags from the trunk and put them in her rental car. I handed her a small, wrapped package. “This is for you,” I said.

She hesitated, and then took it. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say. I don’t have anything to give
you
.”

I shrugged and smiled at her. “Trust me, it’s not much.”

“Should I open it now?”

“No. Wait until you get to Baltimore.” I looked at my watch. “Okay, enough sniveling and carrying on. But I’m following you to the airport. I need to know you get there okay.”

She nodded and looked at me one last time. Then she kissed me softly and turned to get into her car. My heart sank as she closed the door and started the engine.

The traffic was heavy on I-40, but we reached the Airport Boulevard exit by seven forty-five. Lainie took the left fork on Terminal Boulevard to the rental car return. I took the right fork past the terminal drop-off area and circled around the airport and headed home. I felt alone, already missing her.

Twenty-five minutes later, I was heading south on Holly Springs Road when my phone rang. I recognized Lainie’s number.

I answered. “What’s up, muchacha?”

“Tucker, you son of a bitch! If I ever come back here, I’m going to skin you alive!” I grinned from ear to ear. Yep. She had opened the package—a nicely framed print of the slut photograph taken at the cemetery.

“It’s just a little memento to remind you of the time we spent together,” I said.

“I don’t get it. I saw you remove that picture from your computer.”

“Yeah, but it was still on the camera.”

There was a long pause. “Thanks,” she said.

“See ya, MacKenzie.”

“See ya, Tucker.” She hung up.

When I got to the estate, I got to play with my new toy. I pulled the Jag up to the gate, pressed the first button to open it, drove through, and the gate closed behind me.
Whiz-bang
. I drove up to the guesthouse garage, pressed the second button, and watched as the garage door rose. The empty passenger seat gave me an overwhelming feeling of sadness.  Lainie had become a good friend, and I would miss her terribly. I smiled as I looked around the plush interior. She sure got a charge out of this car.

When I looked out the windshield at the empty garage, I froze. My mind was spinning, replaying my recollection of the two crime scenes I had photographed. My god, could it possibly be that simple?

I turned off the engine and ran into the guesthouse. Oscar bolted to greet me, and I almost tripped over him.

“You bonehead! Jesus!”

A few minutes later, I had powered up my computer and opened the folder containing the crime scene photos. I started with the Clancy scene at 3812 Greentree Place and flipped through the photos until I reached the ones taken in the garage. When I found what I was looking for, I zoomed in about four hundred percent, and examined it closely. I slammed my fist on the table and shouted.

“Yes!” I scared the hell out of Oscar, and he went berserk. “Aw, sorry, little guy.” I picked him up and sat him on my lap.

Next, I opened the folder with the photos of the Krauss scene taken at 455 East Rickman Drive. When I got to the shots taken in the garage, I zoomed in on one and looked closely. I leaned back in my chair and reached for my phone.

Netter sounded grumpy when he answered. “Yeah?”

“It’s Tucker,” I said. “I need to look at the Clancy and Krauss automobiles. Are they still at the county impound?”

“Yeah. You can access Clancy’s Chevy, but Dreckmann’s people aren’t finished with the Krauss car. What are you looking for?”

“I want you to do me a favor,” I said. “I need you to go to the Clancy house, walk into the garage, and tell me the first thing you see. But it’s got to be at exactly one o’clock.”

“I haven’t got time for this cloak and dagger shit, Tucker. Just tell me what you expect me to see.”

“No, you have to trust me on this. I swear it’ll be worth your while.”

After some grumbling, he finally agreed.

“But it’s got to be at exactly one o’clock,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. One o’clock. I got it.” He hung up.

CHAPTER 51

Lieutenant John Netter unlocked the front door at 3812 Greentree Place shortly after one o’clock. He was still mumbling to himself as he walked through the kitchen to the door that led to the garage.

“As if I haven’t got anything better to do, I’m running some bullshit whim of Tucker’s. If this is some kind of a wild goose chase, I’m going to ram this burning cigar right up his ass.”

He unlocked the door, opened it, and flipped on the light. I was standing in the garage, right in front of him.

“Bang, you’re dead,” I said.

Netter jumped backwards, gasping, trying to clear his weapon from its holster. Finally, he realized it was me.

“Tucker! You son of a bitch! You scared the living shit out of me! I could’ve shot you!”

I scoffed. “Naaah. You might be a great shot, but you couldn’t win a quick draw competition against a dead snail.”

He was furious. “Of all the stupid fucking stunts! I ought to kick your—” He stopped mid-sentence and looked around. A mental light bulb went on. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

I pulled a garage door transmitter out of my pocket and pressed a button. As the door rose, sunlight flooded the garage.

“You stole Clancy’s transmitter?” Netter asked.

I shook my head and smiled. “This isn’t Clancy’s. This is mine. I bought it about two hours ago … $39.95 plus tax at The Home Improvement Center.

Netter looked confused.

I pointed toward the ceiling with the transmitter. “See that? That’s a LiftMate Model 2500 electric garage door opener. It’s their economy model, with a quarter-horsepower electric motor. The Model 5000 has a half-horsepower motor. But there’s another significant difference. The 5000 has the frequencies pre-programmed at the factory. There are probably hundreds of thousands … maybe millions of different frequencies.

“But the Model 2500 is a much older model. They may not even be making them anymore. Anyway, it has an eight in-line switch on the back of the box. See it up there? Each of the eight switches has three positions: up, down, and center. That allows 6,561 possible frequencies.

“There’s a similar set of switches in this remote. I removed the back and turned it to show Netter. If the positions on this transmitter match the positions on that opener, they’ll communicate. So I bought a new transmitter, went to the impound yard, pulled the back off of Clancy’s transmitter, which was clipped on her sun visor, and set the switches on mine to match hers.

“It was really MacKenzie who made me think of it. She was admiring the built-in transmitters in the Jag, and she said she had one of these clicker things. In fact,
most
people have one of these clicker things. I reviewed the crime scene photos from this location and the Krauss scene and noticed both openers were 2500s. There must be thousands of these units installed in this area alone. My guess is there’s a similar opener installed at the Knudsen house in Apex.

“The ironic part of this is that I installed one of these LiftMate 2500 openers at the Bradford Street house before Jennifer and I divorced.” I smiled, remembering. “I kind of fucked up the installation, but that’s another story. I learned quite a bit about this model during the process, though. The reason Plum broke in at Jennifer’s house is that he didn’t have access to her car to copy the switch positions.”