Classic Revenge (12 page)

"I wouldn't say that," Edna said sweetly, reaching
over to pat Larry's hand. "We just feel that Chief Espinoza believes he already has the real criminal."

"Why would he suggest I speak with you ladies, then?"

"Isn't he up for re-election soon? We're all at the legal voting age, you know."

Trish cleared her throat. "Millie, the Chief of Police is
appointed by the City Council. Henry won't be running
in an actual election. But she does have an interesting
point, Larry. Is he only trying to protect his reputation?"

Larry sighed deeply, drumming his fingertips on the
table. "You're just going to have to trust me on this. Nobody has slammed the door shut on this case, but unless
somebody else confesses or new evidence is brought
forward, Sam Wiley will be standing trial for the murder of his wife. As I've said before, all the evidence
points directly at him."

Millie slammed her hand down on the table. "Prove
it!"

Larry looked at her warily. "Prove what?"

"Prove we can trust you"

"How do you propose I do that?"

Millie didn't answer right away. Getting up, she
walked over to the counter and reached into her purse. Turning, she walked back and placed a folded piece of
paper in front of Larry. Edna's eyes widened, and she
looked at Trish. Millie was handing over their list of suspects !

"What's this?" Larry asked as he unfolded the paper
and laid it flat on the table.

"We believe the killer is on that list," Millie said
dramatically.

Trish groaned and dropped her head in her hand.
"Millie ... "

After he had skimmed the twenty-odd names on the
list, Larry leaned back in his chair and very slowly let
his gaze fall on each woman. He would have made a
great school principal, Trish thought as she squirmed in
her chair. Edna very wisely kept her own eyes directed
at her hands in her lap. Millie, naturally, appeared totally unfazed as she stared right back at him.

Larry flicked the edge of the paper with his finger.
"Where did you get this?"

Millie shrugged. "We asked Sam who he had associated with in the last few years, and we came up with
that list of names"

"And what makes you think one of these people
killed Susan?"

"Because," Millie blurted impatiently, "whoever did
this intentionally made Sam look like the guilty party.
That means it was someone who knows Sam."

"What motive would someone have to murder Sam's
wife and do it in such a way that Sam looks guilty?"

"We won't know that until we know who did it!"
Millie snapped. "Are you going to help us or not?"

Larry looked at her incredulously. "You want me to
bring in all these people for questioning?"

"Of course not," Edna said evenly. "That would tip
off the real killer."

Larry looked like he was about to explode, but to his
credit, his voice remained calm and respectful. "Then
what is it that you expect me to do?"

Millie leaned across the table and grabbed the paper.
"We've already ruled out a couple of people on this list."

Edna leaned forward eagerly. "Yes, but we ran into a
snag this morning. One of the people we were trying to
get a feel for has a man working for him who used to
work for Sam and, unfortunately, this man knows us."

Millie nodded toward Larry's notebook. "Write this
down: Mark Wilson. Find out where he was the day Susan was murdered. See if he has an ax to grind with
Sam, you know, or any stuff like that"

Trish nodded. "It would be too risky if we tried to
check him out. Mark worked for Sam a long time. I really
don't think he's involved, but he may know something
about somebody else on our list."

Larry's eyes were dancing, amusement clearly on the
verge of bubbling over. "I'm glad to hear you're not
willing to take any risks," he said, tongue-in-cheek.
"Are you going to give me the list?"

Millie chuckled. "Nice try. No, we'll keep the list.
You said you wanted us to trust you. Get us the information we want on Mark and we'll see where we go
from there. Personally, I'd like to know just how good
you are at your job"

Larry grinned. "I'm good at what I do, Millie, very
good" He fell silent for a moment as he flipped his pen
back and forth through his fingers. "I'll tell you what,
I'll see what I can find out about Mark Wilson, and I'll
let you know if I discover anything interesting, but I won't divulge anything concerning privacy issues, you
understand. In return, I expect to be kept informed on
what you three are doing-preferably before you do it.
As exciting as playing detective sounds, I can't stress
enough how dangerous this could be" Larry paused for
a moment and let his gaze fall on each of them. "Do we
have a deal?"

The three women looked at each other. Finally, Millie shrugged. "Do you have a cell phone?"

Larry left a few minutes later, after promising to get
back to them soon and warning them once again about
the dangers of amateur investigating. "I think we can
trust that young man," Millie mused as they watched
him drive away.

"I hope you're right," Trish said. There was comfort in
knowing an experienced professional was going to help
them, but they would still need to be careful. Was Larry's
true agenda to help them prove Sam was set up, or was it
to further cement Sam's fate as a convicted murderer?

Trish had trouble sleeping that night, and for no apparent reason. She was tired, she was comfortable ...
and she was wide awake. Finally, she rolled over and
glanced at the bedside clock. It was all of two A.M.
Groaning out loud, she gave it up. She slipped into her
house shoes and plodded down the hallway. A nap
would definitely be in order later today, but, for now,
she might as well get started on some much-needed
housework. Coffee cup in hand, she headed toward her
office to make a list of what she wanted to accomplish.
Trish was big on lists.

Suddenly, a loud pounding at her front door accompanied by several shrill rings of the doorbell caused her to jump, spilling hot coffee down the front of her nightgown. With her heart banging in her chest, Trish felt
rooted to the floor as she stared at the door. Who could
be there at two o'clock in the morning?

GGTrish! Trish, open the door!" Finally, Trish pulled
air through her lungs and raced to pull the door open.
Millie stood gasping, eyes wide behind glasses that sat
slightly askew on her face. Her hair was pulled up in
pink sponge-rollers, and she was grasping the bottom
of her purple nightgown in one hand, revealing one
bare foot and one slippered foot. Trish gaped at her.

Millie pushed inside, slammed the door, and then
leaned against it. "Call the police!"

"Wha-TI

"I've been broken into! Somebody was in my house!"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just call the police, please!"

This was serious. Millie never said "please." Trish ran
to grab the phone and dialed nine-one-one. Hurriedly,
she explained the situation to the emergency dispatcher,
and then gave the address. She replaced the phone and rushed back to Millie, who was peeking through the
front windows at her house across the street.

"What happened?" Trish demanded as she, too,
peered out into the darkness.

"Something woke me up, a noise or a feeling, or ...
something. I don't know," Millie answered, her voice
calmer and even a little angry. "After a while, I thought it
had just been my imagination, or maybe a storm was approaching. Since I was awake, I got up to get a drink of
water. That's when I saw my back door standing wide
open. It still didn't register that somebody had broken in
until I stepped on the glass. Somebody busted out one of
the panels on the door and unlocked it. All I could think
about was that somebody might still be in the house. I
hightailed it out of there, and when I saw your lights on,
I came over here"

What a scare she must have had, Trish thought as she
squeezed Millie's shoulder. An eighty-year-old woman
living alone was easy prey for an unscrupulous character. Thank goodness Millie wasn't hurt. Material things
could be replaced, but the life of her friend was much
more valuable than any thing.

Trish stared out the window looking for some kind of
movement, a shadow crossing under the moonlit sky, or
something else that would give them a clue as to the person, or persons, who had done this to Millie. But there
was nothing. The branches in the trees weren't even stirring in the calm night air.

Suddenly, the hair stood up on the back of her neck.
What was happening to this neighborhood? First there'd
been a murder, and now a break-in, both incidents serious crimes, not the work of bored adolescents. Trish shuddered and glanced sideways at Millie, who was
single-mindedly staring across the street at her house,
her lips drawn into a tight, thin line.

They say everything happens in threes. Trish turned
again to look outside, a sense of dread coming over her.
What would happen next?

The police siren sounded in the background. "The
police will be here soon," Trish said unnecessarily. Millie was obstinate, Trish reminded herself, not deaf.

"Good. It's about time."

Trish looked at her quizzically. It had been what,
maybe five minutes, since she had hung up the phone. It
had been a pretty good response time by any standardsexcept, of course, by Millie's. Before she could stop her,
Millie dropped the curtain and raced out the front door,
while Trish rushed to catch up. For a little old lady, Millie
sure could move fast.

Millie was standing out by the curb, practically hopping from one foot to the other in her impatience for the
police to arrive. The noise from the siren was louder
now, and several porch lights up and down the block
flipped on as concerned neighbors peeked out their front
doors. This was probably the most excitement any of
them had witnessed since living in this neighborhood, or,
at least, since Susan Wiley's untimely death.

Just then a patrol car rounded the corner and stopped
in front of Millie's house, the red and blue flashing lights
lighting up the whole street. Trish was surprised to see
Henry Espinoza step out of the car. Surely the chief had
enough seniority that he didn't have to work the graveyard shift!

Millie charged across the street, obviously uncon cerned about the fact she was only wearing one slipper.
Trish followed, uncomfortably aware that her soft pink
nightgown, wet with coffee spills, had definitely seen
better days. She caught sight of Edna and Joe coming up
the sidewalk with worried frowns on their faces. "Millie's fine," she assured them as they drew closer, "but her
house was broken into. She ran over here and we called
the police."

"Oh, dear," Edna gasped. "Was anything taken?"

"I don't know. I don't think she looked around before
she fled"

"Poor Millie." Joe shook his head and sighed deeply.
Was he wondering, too, about the sudden rash of crime
invading their quiet little neighborhood? "You two stay
here, and I'll see if I can help." Joe walked over to where
Millie was talking to Henry-well, more like arguing,
if the sound of Millie's raised voice was anything to go
by. It sounded as if the chief was demanding that she
stay put for a minute, and she was refusing, wanting to
go inside with him.

Trish and Edna moved closer, ready to tackle Millie
if the need arose. It wasn't safe for her to go into the
house before Henry had a chance to thoroughly check it
out and make sure the intruder was gone. They were
spared having to perform any heroics when Joe, in his
usual calm way, wrapped his arm around Millie and
pulled her to where Edna and Trish stood. The sight of
Joe, over six feet tall, having to bend down to comfort
tiny Millie would have been humorous if the situation
hadn't been so serious.

"Millie," he said, his voice deep and soothing, "it
could be dangerous for you to distract Henry right now. Let him do his job, and then we'll all go in with you to
see what damage there is and find out if anything has
been taken. But first, Henry has to make sure it's safe to
go in the house. Someone could get hurt if the guy is
still in there" While Joe had been talking, Henry had
walked up the driveway and circled around to the back
of the house. Trish noticed that he had his gun drawn,
and a shiver ran down her spine.

Millie snapped her mouth shut, and after a moment
she nodded. "You're right, of course. I was hoping the
guy was still in my house so we could catch him, but I
wasn't thinking about how dangerous that could be"
She reached up and patted Joe's hand, which was still
resting on her shoulder. "Thank you, Joe."

Edna reached over and tightened one of the curlers
that had loosened from Millie's head. "I'm just so sorry
this has happened to you"

4111mnot."

Trish blinked, sure she had heard wrong. "What did
you say?"