Weeds in the Garden of Love (31 page)

Roy’s suspicions were originally aroused when Palmer told him Davis’ ex-wife was missing. Roy felt in his bones Davis was involved in her disappearance and probably capable of something even more sinister. Danny from Malarkey’s confirmed Davis had a dark side. He told Roy that Davis was in the bar most evenings, sharing his misery. The more he drank—the more he talked. After Charles Talbot fired him from the SOE, Davis told Danny that Garth and Loretta Hodgson were part of the conspiracy against him. He vowed to get even with them all. Davis’ exact words were: “if it is the last thing I ever do.”

Roy needed to reconstruct the probable sequence of events from the previous evening. He spoke softly as he paced. “The P.I. followed him last night when he left the apartment building in Botsford around eleven-thirty. Then he lost him. Davis was so paranoid about being followed; he probably picked up on the tail right away. He deliberately headed away from Woodland Estates. Once he was positive he had shaken the surveillance, he headed back to the Talbot’s. When he finished with the Talbots, he came here and did the Hodgsons. The sequence makes sense.
”

Roy continued to pace and then something he just said triggered a thought. It hit him like a lightning bolt.
Wait a minute! The apartment building in Botsford Downs! Where the P.I. saw Davis last night. Whoever he was after is probably on his list. They could be the two missing victims! But who in that building had a connection to Davis?
Roy needed answers—and fast, especially to the most important question of all. Where was Lorne Davis?

Roy went downstairs to the kitchen. He briefed Dave as they sipped donut shop coffee someone brought in. “I’ve known Davis for a few years. Always thought he was wrapped way too tight. You know, like he had a lot of anger right under the surface.”

“
You like him for these murders?” Dave asked.

Roy pointed to a telephone on the kitchen counter. “That phone is dead, right?”

“
Yeah.”

“
That’s part of Davis’ m.o. The phone lines were cut here, at the Talbot’s and even at his ex-wife’s house—you know, when Davis’s wife shot him. Palmer discovered that when he executed the search warrant.”

Dave nodded his head in agreement. “Looks like that bonehead P.I. at the Estates scene was right.”

“
Think about it,” Roy said. “Davis is the only one who had a motive for these homicides. Hodgson harassed him and tailed him to gather evidence. After Hodgson gave the evidence to the SOE, Talbot fired Davis.”

“
What about the female victims?”

“
They were included in the bloody numbers on the wall. He obviously intended to murder them along with their husbands. One thing’s for certain, he was darn sure they would all be at home last night. He knew their habits so he must have done a lot of surveillance.”

“
The P.I. confirmed it,” Dave said. “Too bad he lost him last night.”

“
That’s for sure.” Roy paused. Something else had occurred to him. “Davis not only had a motive, he also had the means. A few years ago, he registered a snub-nosed three fifty-seven. Palmer said Davis recently reported it stolen. I’ll bet half my pension, ballistics will prove it’s the murder weapon.”

“
No doubt. Now what?”

“
If the writing on the wall is right,” Roy said, “he has two more murders to do. His ex-wife isn’t one of them. Even Palmer and Landry can’t find her.”

“
Lucky lady.”

“
More smart than lucky. She knew when to disappear.”

“
You bet,” Dave said. “So—okay, it’s not his ex. Then who are the last two vics?”

“
Not sure. The only lead we have is the apartment building in Botsford Downs. Remember? The place where Austin observed Davis going into last night? We have to find out why Davis went to that building. That may lead us to our next murder scene.”

Dave marveled at his partner’s deductive reasoning. Roy had logically determined the sequence of events and was only a step or two behind the killer.

Roy was busy entering his conclusions in his notebook when another thought crossed his mind. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He wrote:

“
2”—other guy in car?

Roy figured the last target could be the other guy Davis saw in the car with Hodgson at the restaurant.
It makes sense! He was helping Hodgson tail Davis.
He’s probably the guy with Hodgson later that same night when we attended the bar fight complaint at Malarkey’s. Oh, man! Malarkey’s!
Roy flipped back in his notebook and found the entry from that night:

Greg Hodges (aka?) + Craig Andrews (perp)

Suddenly, Roy had the answer. “Let’s go, Dave! Dollars to donuts, Craig Andrews and his wife live in that apartment building—and they’re the last two victims!”

* * *

About a half hour after the police left, the telephone startled Craig out of a troubled sleep. He was groggy but recognized the voice. It was Dr. Gorham from Mercy Hospital. Vikki listened intently, trying to overhear. She could only make out some of what the doctor was saying. She faintly heard the words: “all we could … injuries … too severe … sorry.”

Craig never said a word. He stood up and dropped the receiver onto the bed. He staggered across the room until an overpowering weight buckled his knees. He collapsed to the floor. He was overwhelmed with grief. He couldn’t catch his breath—his throat was choked with sorrow.

“
Why, God?” he moaned. “Why him? Why did you take my son?”

Vikki leapt out of bed and ran to Craig. She had no words to comfort him. Kneeling beside him, she put her arms around him. She rocked him as he wept from the depths of his soul. He had a searing pain in his heart. His body felt like a lead weight. Maybe the doctor was wrong. Robbie was alive. This was just a bad dream. Craig would wake up, and everything would be okay.

It wasn’t a dream. It was real. Robbie was gone, and Chrissie was to blame. The thought made his blood boil. His grief quickly turned to rage.

I’m going back to the hospital. I’m going to strangle that evil woman! Driving drunk with my children in her car!” Craig suddenly stopped ranting. He had forgotten about Heather. He struggled to his feet. “Let’s go, Vikki! I still have a little girl in this world and she needs my protection. I’ll never let anything happen to her! My daughter will never see her drunken mother again!”

* * *

Roy and Dave sped across Botsford Downs towards the Andrews’ apartment building. The dispatcher confirmed the address and advised no one answered when she called the residence. Dispatch also reported the apartment had been the target of a break-and-enter earlier that morning.

The detectives sent to Davis’ apartment found it empty. The building superintendent showed them Lorne’s assigned parking spot. His vehicle was gone.

As they drove, Roy put out a—be-on-the-look-out-for—bulletin over the police radio. It included a description of Lorne Davis and his vehicle’s make, model, color and plate number. He was classified as—armed and dangerous.

Detective Rick Palmer heard the radio call. He immediately radioed Roy and Dave. He requested they patrol down to the beach. He told them he was parked behind the public restrooms near the beach volleyball courts. Palmer said he had found Lorne Davis.

“
Armed—but not dangerous anymore.”

EPILOGUE

As Heather walked down the jet way, her cell phone played a few bars of Mozart. She checked the call display. It was her fiancé Michael. Her love was intense, and it bubbled over as she spoke to him. He told her he would meet her outside the baggage area at LaGuardia. She could hardly wait. Heather smiled as she showed her boarding pass. “You look happy,” the flight attendant said, directing Heather to her seat in business class.

“
I hope so,” Heather said. “I am happy.”

Heather took her laptop and a book out of her briefcase. As the flight attendant handed her a champagne and orange juice, she noticed the book on Heather’s lap. “Fascinating book. All about the Davis murders. I couldn’t put it down.”

“
I just bought it in the airport,” Heather said. The book was
Then Comes Murder
, a sensational bestseller when it originally came out. Heather couldn’t bring herself to read it back then. The book hit too close to home. Today, something told her it was time to buy it. Perhaps, it was her morbid curiosity or simply her desire to know the whole story. Regardless, her interest was justified.

Heather grew up in Botsford Downs. She knew Rebecca and Marcia, the Hodgson girls. Their murdered parents Garth and Loretta had been close friends with her dad and Vikki. They were all on Davis’ murder list. It scared her to death when she found out.

The book stirred painful memories of the awful night that changed her life forever: the murders, the horrible accident, the hospital and Robbie. Robbie. Heather would miss her brother as long as she lived.

The flight attendant set Heather’s dinner on her tray and then poured her a glass of Bordeaux. “Anything else I can get you?”

“
No, thanks,” Heather replied. “I’m okay for now.” Her meal was delightful, considering it was airline food. She started with a spring mix salad sprinkled with feta, warm crusty French rolls and finished with a petit filet mignon accompanied by béarnaise. She enjoyed every mouthful.
I am so lucky to fly
business class
, she thought.

In reality, business class air travel was one of the perks Heather negotiated before joining Mercer and Associates, one of the biggest P.R. firms in Manhattan. They courted her during her internship at a rival firm. After her initial interview, Robert Mercer offered her a job.

After dinner, Heather settled back in her seat. She had just spent Thanksgiving with her Dad and Vikki at their refurbished turn-of-the-century farmhouse. She had a wonderful time with them and their children Beth and Jamie. Heather loved her half-siblings dearly. She hadn’t seen them in a while and was amazed at how much they’d matured.

Beth was a vivacious college freshman, majoring in science and hoping to get into medical school. Jamie, like his father, was a jock and a straight A student. He was a starter on the high school football team and had no idea what he wanted to be when he grew up. Heather thought Jamie would be a success at anything he chose.

Her dad had worked hard to make his company a success. Andrew’s Office Supply Inc. had grown over the years and had branch offices across the mid-west.

Vikki had previously worked in sales and marketing, eventually becoming a vice-president at her company. When Beth was born, she resigned to be a stay-at-home mom. It was a role she cherished. Vikki always said: “I gave up an important job, for the most important job of all.” Today, the kids are older, and she works part-time with Craig at the office supply company.

Their hobby farm demanded a lot of time, but they loved it. Craig was always busy fixing something, mowing the lawns or tending the vegetable garden and apple orchard. Their English garden was Vikki’s pride and joy. She loved to putter around in it all summer. Every fall, Craig and Vikki stocked their freezer with fresh fruit and vegetables, their root cellar with preserves and dried herbs. They still managed to find time to traipse around the countryside looking for antiques.

Thanksgiving Day had evolved into Thanksgiving Week at the farm. The days were full of love, laughter and warmth; the house packed with family and friends. Craig arranged a hayride for the kids one afternoon and pumpkin carving the next. Most evenings at dusk, the fire pit in the yard was lit and marshmallows were roasted. After the youngsters were tucked into bed, the adults congregated around the huge fieldstone fireplace in the living room. Bathed in the glow of the log fire, they talked and laughed while sipping brandy and coffee.

On Thanksgiving Day, the delectable aroma of turkey dinner wafted through the house. The adults were served at the big table in the dining room. Boisterous and giggling children sat at their own small table in the corner. At the end of the main course, everyone was stuffed and claimed they could not eat another bite. Then, Vikki brought her famous pecan pumpkin pie to the table. It quickly disappeared.

Heather filled up with love from her family. She always did when she spent time with them. They were the only family she had left. Suddenly, Heather remembered the present her father had given her at the airport.

* * *

“
Hey, kiddo. I almost forgot.” Her father took a small, neatly wrapped present out of his coat pocket. “This is for you.”

“
Oh, Dad,” Heather said. “You didn’t have to.”

“
Promise me—you won’t open it until after you takeoff. And open the card first.”

* * *

Heather reached into her briefcase and found the present. It was wrapped in silver paper. Inside the card was a note from her father:

Heather:

Your Grandma Olivia gave this to me a long time ago for safekeeping. It held fond memories for her and was a prized possession. She asked me to give it to you. You were special to her, Heather. She loved you very much. She wanted you to have this so you would remember her. Take care, my little girl.