Dead Wrong (20 page)

“Yeah, don't worry, Saint Doctor Giovanni. I'll haul your nuts out of the coals, since I'm the disreputable twin,” I yelled.

Stomping off, I unlocked the outer door and entered the house, leaving Giovanni to stare at me. Maybe he'd decided it was better to keep his mouth shut than to deal with more of my bitchy attitude.

After I'd slammed the door, I heard the rental car start and move off into the distance. I entered the kitchen and slumped onto a counter stool allowing tears to stream down my face. I allowed the tears to flow unchecked and sobbed over everything I'd become involved in, the things I had no control over.

Footsteps rumbled down the stairs as I regained my composure. Aaron knocked on the door and entered, not waiting to hear an invitation. Dang, I should have locked up.

“Hey, Vin, what's up? I heard you yelling in the driveway again. Everything okay?” His eyes took in my tear-streaked face as I nodded.

“Just a twin confrontation. Nothing to worry about.”

“It sounded like more than that,” he said, moving toward me.

Raising my hands in a stop motion, I watched him halt.

“I'm not up to company, Aaron. Nothing personal, I'd just like to be alone—if you don't mind.”

His eyes darkened while he stared at me. With a shrug, he nodded and moved toward the door. He turned before he left, and said, “If you change your mind, I'll be upstairs.” He hesitated a second and then continued, “Was there an emergency at Lena's? I got a call that you and Giovanni had gone to visit.”

Exhausted and annoyed, I straightened up and peered at him through narrowed eyes.

“Everything in Lena's life is fine. Gio wanted to stop by before he leaves for Nebraska. He'll be flying out on Friday.” I lied, but I didn't care.

“Oh, that's good then. See you tomorrow?”

“Sure, tomorrow,” I said and locked the door behind him.

Withdrawing the cufflink from my pocket, I turned it over and over in the palm of my hand, staring at it and wondering who it belonged to.

Chapter 25

The trash truck rumbled into the yard as I slid off the sofa. Within a few moments, the truck had loaded the container onto its rollers. I watched it head east.

The coffee hadn't perked, and I realized I'd forgotten to ready it the night before. With a heavy heart, I stumbled into the kitchen and set the coffee brewing while I showered.

Once clean and changed, my spirits rose to a near tolerable level. Staring out the French doors into the rear yard I sipped coffee and munched a slice of slightly burnt toast. Tips of tall pine trees swayed as a ferocious wind whipped around the house. The outdoor thermometer read a mere forty degrees – another blustery day ahead.

Depressed over the issues at hand, I wandered around the house picking up stuff that needed to be put away. When I approached the desk in the office, a sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. The clinic logo caught my eye. I leaned down to retrieve it.

It was a bill from the therapy clinic. I gasped at the fee listed at the bottom of the page. How I had failed to notice this before, I couldn't imagine. Then I realized that Porter Anderson had given me several other such bills that he had requested from the insurance company.

Curiosity took hold. I sat on the corner of the desk while shuffling through the remaining pages from Porter. The insurance company had paid thousands of dollars for the torture I'd received. Wondering how much money was legitimately charged for treatments like mine at local hospitals, I lifted the phone and dialed my cousin Mary's work number.

After Mary answered the phone, I explained what I needed to know. Since she worked at Rhode Island Hospital, I was sure she could get the information for me.

“Vin, I'll call you back as soon as I can reach the billing department. Our costs may be somewhat different than those you have had from that clinic, but I can assure you, it isn't anywhere near what your insurance company has paid.”

“Okay, Mary. Call me as soon as you can.” I gave her my cell phone number and hung up.

Scrambling around the house, I straightened the rooms before leaving for the clinic. It wouldn't do me much good to go there now that it was empty, but the possibility that something had been left behind weighed heavily on my mind. The hope of a solution to the deaths of those three people lifted my spirits as I hurried through the remaining chores.

My freshly washed jacket lay crumpled in the dryer. Setting the timer to tumble it for a few minutes, I stood and waited. When the dryer stopped, I lifted the jacket from within and slipped it over my sweater. Heat from the material radiated through the knitted fabric into my skin, leaving me snuggly warm.

My worn shoulder bag sat on the counter. I grabbed it, tucked my cell phone inside and grasped the car keys before heading out the door. The container gone to the landfill, and Aaron's truck nowhere to be seen, left just my car on the far side of the driveway.

The vehicle gleamed in the bright sunlight, and I hopped inside out of the cold wind. It didn't take long to reach the clinic's neighborhood. Sweeping into the parking area next to the building, I noted crime scene tape fluttering in the wind. Hesitating a moment, I wondered what I could possibly find that the investigators hadn't. Aw, what the hell, no time like the present to check it out for myself. After all, I'd been coming to this place longer than the cops had.

The front door rattled when I shook the handle, but the lock wouldn't budge. Unable to enter that way, I headed around the building. Dirt kicked up and swirled through the back lot as the wind whipped across the empty parking area. The desolate building sent a shiver down my spine, but curiosity had a firmer hold than fear.

I shook the doors on the back of the building with the same no-entry response. Damn it all, I had to get inside this building. I knew there was something to be found. I could feel it in my bones. Walking along the run-down exterior, I checked the windows. Nothing was open or broken. I really hate when that happens.

As I tramped through ragged weeds rounding the side of the structure, I noticed a basement window flapping in the wind. Ah, luck at last. Peering into the darkness, I couldn't make out much. I flung my handbag down on the ground and shuffled through the contents in search of the tiny flashlight I carried.

The batteries were low, but the weak light from the flashlight showed a jumble of dilapidated furniture and several crushed boxes strewn around the basement. I slid flat-bellied, squeezing through the opening, with no room to spare, my handbag stuffed inside my jacket. How I'd get out never occurred to me. Curiosity driven, I landed on the floor and glanced around.

A rat scuttled across the floor, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. Deep breaths. Just take deep breaths. Flashing the dim light across the area closest to me, I caught sight of the staircase leading upward. Fearful of more rats, I dashed across the concrete and headed up to the ground floor of the clinic.

My ears rang from the eerie silence while I entered the back hallway. A dim corridor led past the reception area on into the torture chambers where heavy equipment lay dark and silent like the huge monsters they were. I peered around as I moved through the building, listening for sounds of other intruders.

Nobody was here, just me, Miss Nosy Parker. I smirked at the name Porter had used for me as I checked the desk drawers of the reception area. The drawers were empty. I turned away and glanced down, then knelt down to check under the desk in case I'd missed something.

A small slip of paper lay against the rear leg of the piece of furniture. I stretched my arm as far as it would go and barely snatched it up. The name and address of a woman had been scrawled across the paper. I recognized the writing as that of the nurse. Folding the snippet of paper, I tucked it into my jacket pocket. Within seconds, I had left the reception area and scanned the remaining rooms. Nothing, and no one appeared. It was time to leave before some neighbor called the cops.

My cell phone jingled. I answered and listened to Mary tell me what the hospital charged for physical therapy – in awe of the difference in their rates and the charges of the clinic paid by the insurance company. I thanked Mary and ended the call. The crew who'd run this distasteful ring of thieves had made a lot of cash off my injury which left me to wonder how much they'd made from others.

Instead of leaving by the basement, I headed toward the back door. When the door opened easily, I wondered if it had really been locked in the first place. I stepped outside, coming face to face with Porter Anderson. His sardonic grimace assured me he wasn't happy to find me here.

“Visiting the crime scene, Lavinia?” he asked, hands in his pockets while he rocked back on his heels.

“It seemed like the thing to do. Don't ask me why, Porter. I just had to do it.”

“Did you find anything of use? Our crime scene people gave it a thorough going over, you know.”

“As a matter of fact, I didn't,” I lied.

“How did you get in?” he asked with a sideways glance as we went down the steps.

“I found an open window in the basement.”

“It was already open?”

“Yes, it was. I didn't break and enter. Well, not in the true sense of breaking and entering.”

“I see. Well, now that you're satisfied, I guess you won't need to come back again, right?”

“Right. How did you know I was here?”

“I drove by and saw your car in the lot. It could have been dangerous for you, Vin. Don't do it again, okay?”

His serious features held eyes cold as the relentless wind that continued to blow. I knew I was in trouble with him for my activities.

I nodded and thanked him for not arresting my sorry ass. A grin appeared at the corners of his lips, and he turned away with a nod.

“Have a good holiday and stay safe, Lavinia,” was all he said before he drove away.

Relieved at my luck in not getting arrested two days before Thanksgiving, I sped from the parking lot and headed home. The scrap of paper was burning a hole in my pocket, and I needed to see Aaron or Marcus soon. They'd track this person down for me. Maybe it was a lead. Maybe it wasn't anything important, my little inner voice argued.

The Yukon was in the driveway as I drew to a stop next to it. With my shoulder bag in hand, I scooted from the car and up the stairs to Aaron's apartment. I knocked on the door. Before he could answer, I started inside.

Raised eyebrows accompanied a questioning look on the handsome brute's face.

“This is an unexpected surprise. No classes today?”

“No, school's out for the week. Thanksgiving, you know,” I said and sidled onto a stool at the counter. Aaron's kitchen layout matched mine, as did most of the floor plan. Even his deck was off the kitchen like mine.

“So tell me Vinnie, why are you here? I can see excitement in your face and the sparkle is back in your eyes.” He smiled full on at me.

“I was looking around down at the torture clinic this morning and found this scrap of paper with a woman's name and address on it. Do you think you could run this information for me?” Sliding the paper across the counter toward him, I watched as he read the information.

“What do you mean, you were looking around? Did you have legal access, or was this a B&E?”

“The window was open so I didn't break and enter. I just entered.” I smiled at him and watched the thick dark eyebrows furrow slightly.

Holding up his hand he murmured, “Don't tell me anything else about how you got in, please.” He picked up the paper, holding it between his index finger and thumb. “I guess you think this might be a clue to the person behind all these murders, huh?”

“I do, but don't ask me why. Intuition, I guess.” Again I smiled and watched his grin widen as he stared at me.

“Uh, did you find out about the manure? You didn't say last night when you came downstairs.”

“You didn't seem to be in the mood for conversation, so I left like you asked.”

His dark eyes watched my face. Then he said, “We did find some prints on the bag, but no match was found. Sorry. Like I said, it was probably just a prank.”

We strode into the next room where Aaron had his laptop computer set up. He punched in a code, and the screen came into view. Aaron added the information from the paper and hit the send button. Nothing happened right away, and he rose from the desk.

“Would you like some lunch while we wait? I just came back from the deli.” He waggled his eyebrows, knowing I'd take the bait.

“The deli, huh? What did you buy there?”

“Lola had just finished baking a meat pie. It smelled so good that I bought the whole damned thing.” His chuckle brought a wide grin to my face.

I glanced back at the computer, watching as the hourglass on the screen tumbled end over end. Following Aaron into the kitchen, I said, “Bring it on. I'm starving.”

A chuckle followed my words as Aaron took the meat pie from the oven. It was still hot. Steam rose from the inside of it when he sliced into the crust. My mouth watered just thinking of the tasty fare.

He slid a loaded plate across the counter along with flatware and a napkin. I dug into the pie and sighed at the pleasure of spices mingling with the potatoes, onions, and ground meats. Cinnamon tingled on my tongue along with the combined taste of pork and beef. It tasted heavenly.

Placing a cup of steaming coffee next to my dish, Aaron started in on his own slab of pie. He made the same sounds I had, which made me laugh out loud.

We finished the meal as the computer beeped. Aaron strode through to retrieve any information available. He called me into the room. I leaned over his shoulder to see what the computer had found.

The woman's address and personal information scrolled down the screen as did her arrest record. Fraud, burglary, and assault topped the long list of grievous issues. Jubilant over the fact that my hunch had paid off, I danced around the room cheering.

When I settled down, I noticed Aaron had leaned back in the chair with a wide grin on his face. His smile brought another from me, and I nearly hugged him for it. He handed the slip of paper back to me and hit the print button on the keyboard. I heard the printer hum before two sheets of paper flew from its exit port. I snatched them up, folded them tightly and stuffed them into my pants pocket.

“Thanks for that. I didn't want to go to the PPD with the information for obvious reasons. I also know this is the person who has been after me. She probably had a hand in the pig manure routine, too.”

“Now, a favor for a favor, Vin,” Aaron said with a soft voice.

The words brought me back to solid ground and I stared at him for a few seconds, aware that his favor would run close to family ties. My family ties, as a matter of fact. Edgy, I nodded and leaned against the corner of the desk.

“Ask away.”

“Tell me about the disagreement between you and Giovanni last night. You were quite angry when you arrived home. As a matter of fact, it's a wonder the door on the car still works, you slammed it so hard.”

How he knew this was beyond me, unless he'd been watching, of course. I said nothing, just nodded affirmation of what he'd said.

“You also said you'd get his nuts out of the fire or something to that effect, so tell me why you were crying when I got downstairs last night.” He twirled a pen in his fingers while he waited patiently for me to explain.

Where to start? I paced the room a couple of times, organizing my thoughts before I said something that would lead to trouble. Seated, Aaron watched my every move, waiting for me to spill my guts or waiting for the lies to begin.

“Giovanni and I had a disagreement about his wife. We'd gone to see Aunt Lena and afterwards we stopped for coffee. He made the mistake of mentioning I lived a horrid life that includes thugs, the mob, and other such things. He told me I needed to settle down and have kids. The worst was his remark about my father being right about my lifestyle.” I sighed and brushed the hair away from my face.