Deadly Valentine (Special Releases) (8 page)

BOOK: Deadly Valentine (Special Releases)
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‘‘How long had you been having the affair?’’ Jack asked.

Oliver stared at the paper on the table, no doubt thinking it was all written down in the date book. ‘‘About six months.’’

‘‘Is there any chance Mitzy found out?’’ Jack had to ask.

Oliver looked up in surprise. ‘‘No, I mean...you don’t think Mitzy....’’ He shook his head. ‘‘Mitzy can be a real bitch, but murder?’’

‘‘How do you think she’d have taken the news about you leaving?’’

He shrugged and looked away. ‘‘I don’t know. I thought she might be relieved, you know. She would have been pissed. At first. But she doesn’t need me. She never has.’’

‘‘And Peggy did?’’

‘‘Yeah.’’ He looked as if he might cry again.

Jack still wasn’t sure he believed the first breakdown, but he was one suspicious SOB and he knew it. ‘‘So who do you think poisoned Peggy?’’

He wagged his head. ‘‘Maybe Peggy decided to take things into her own hands, you know—’’ he stopped as if horrified by the idea ‘‘—kill Mitzy, but then got confused or scared and accidentally mixed up the boxes of chocolates.’’

Jack loved the way Oliver was trying to make it look like Peggy killed herself—accidentally, of course. Tempest had a look of disgust on her face.

‘‘Or maybe that was the plan all along?’’ she said to Oliver.

He looked confused.

‘‘To kill Mitzy,’’ she clarified. ‘‘You sent your secretary out to buy your wife Valentine’s Day presents, why not send your secretary out to kill your wife?’’

‘‘What?’’ Oliver cried. ‘‘I didn’t want to kill Mitzy. But who knows what Peggy might have been thinking.’’

‘‘Yes, who knows,’’ Jack agreed, as disgusted with Oliver as Tempest was by her expression.

Oliver was tearful again. ‘‘I didn’t want to hurt either one of them.’’

‘‘But Mitzy was bound to be hurt when you told her you were leaving her for another woman,’’ Tempest noted. ‘‘Surely you didn’t really think Mitzy was going to take it well.’’

Oliver shrugged. ‘‘I guess I just hoped...’’ He put his face in his hands again.

‘‘Maybe Peggy didn’t believe you would leave your wife,’’ Tempest suggested.

‘‘No.’’ Oliver raised his head. ‘‘She knew I was going to tell Mitzy last night. That’s what makes it all so awful.’’

‘‘So what was the point of buying Mitzy all the expensive presents if you were dumping her?’’ Jack asked.

‘‘Just keeping up the pretense one last time,’’ Oliver said. ‘‘Everyone in this town knows us, knows when we sneeze. I wanted people to think Mitzy and I were just fine. I guess I wanted to spare her any humiliation, especially on Valentine’s Day.’’

‘‘But you were going to tell her you were leaving her,’’ Jack said.

‘‘Yeah, but no one would have had to have known,’’ Oliver said as if it made perfect sense to him.

It did to Jack, too. ‘‘Until you’d left town. Then she would have been humiliated, but you wouldn’t have been here or what would you care, right?’’

Oliver looked at him. ‘‘You of all people know I’ve never been good at facing up to things.’’

No, Jack thought, remembering the cheating incident only too well.

‘‘Peggy must have put the poison in the chocolates,’’ Oliver said as if to himself.

‘‘The thing is, Oliver, I don’t believe Peggy mixed up the boxes of candy,’’ Tempest said. ‘‘I’ve seen her work area and her files. She was too efficient, too methodical.’’

Oliver swallowed. ‘‘Well, then...’’ He shook his head. ‘‘I just can’t believe it was Mitzy...unless she found out about us.’’

‘‘How could she not?’’ Jack demanded. ‘‘I can’t believe you could have had an affair in this small town without everyone knowing about it.’’

‘‘I rented a condo in another town. We met there. Or went to dinner in other towns. Since we worked together, no one was the wiser.’’

Jack wondered about that. ‘‘You never met at the penthouse or her apartment?’’

‘‘Never.’’ Oliver seemed to relax as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. ‘‘Mitzy must have found out somehow. I’m glad it’s all out in the open.’’

Jack glanced at Tempest, then dropped the bomb. ‘‘Maybe what Mitzy found out was that you were blackmailing her with those old photos in your safe and giving the money to your mistress.’’

Shock ran like a bolt of electricity through Oliver, leaving him pale and trembling. ‘‘Oh, Christ,’’ he mumbled.

‘‘You had the photos. Peggy had the money. The evidence is in the bank accounts,’’ Jack said. ‘‘Mitzy withdrew it and Peggy put it in her account a couple of days later. Mitzy told us about the photos. The ones I found in your safe just this morning, so don’t even try to deny it.’’

Oliver slumped in his chair, shoulders hunched, and for a moment, Jack thought the man would cry again and the crying was getting tiresome. ‘‘It was Peggy.’’

‘‘You’re saying the blackmail was her idea?’’ Tempest asked. ‘‘She knew about the photos?’’

Oliver shook his head. ‘‘Peggy thought the money was mine. She’d never had anything, you know? I just wanted to give her...something.’’

‘‘In other words, she was demanding things?’’ Jack asked.

Oliver looked up, blinked, his eyes moist. ‘‘It wasn’t like that. I
wanted
to give her things.’’ He looked to Tempest as if he thought she might understand.

‘‘Peggy
and
Mitzy were more than you could afford,’’ Tempest guessed.

‘‘I had no other choice but to get money from Mitzy,’’ Oliver said irritably. ‘‘The hotel wasn’t doing that well, I had money tied up in the new condo development and my mother was taking everything else. I just needed to hang in a few more weeks until my birthday.’’

‘‘Couldn’t you have taken money from your joint account?’’ Jack asked.

Oliver shook his head. ‘‘Mitzy had her own checking account. She put all her money into it and never let me touch a cent of it.’’

So that was it. Jack shook his head. Why did it always come down to money?

There was a tap at the door. Deputy Dobson stuck his head in, handed Tempest some papers and gave her a smile. The door closed.

Tempest looked down at the documents the deputy had given her, then said, ‘‘Is that why you took out an insurance policy on Peggy? Five hundred thousand dollars with you as the beneficiary.’’ She looked up. ‘‘What was that, insurance just in case she should eat some poison chocolates?’’

Jack was surprised. Oliver looked shocked.

‘‘I don’t know anything about an insurance policy.’’ Oliver sat up, looking scared now. ‘‘I’m telling the truth. You have to believe me.’’

‘‘You’re saying Peggy did it all on her own?’’ Jack asked.

‘‘She must have.’’

‘‘Why would Peggy do that?’’ Tempest asked quietly.

‘‘How should I know?’’ Oliver cried.

‘‘Maybe she thought something was going to happen to her,’’ Tempest suggested.

Oliver was sweating bullets. ‘‘I don’t know. I mean, maybe she was worried things wouldn’t go well with Mitzy when I told her. Maybe she thought Mitzy might...do something.’’

‘‘Like kill her?’’ Jack asked. ‘‘So she wanted you to have some money?’’

‘‘Maybe.’’ Even Oliver was finding that scenario hard

to swallow.

‘‘Maybe...she...meant...to...kill...herself.’’

‘‘Or maybe,’’ Tempest said, ‘‘Peggy was worried you might try to off her. The insurance money would make you look awfully suspicious. So would the date book in her apartment and the Valentine that was found clutched in her hand in your foyer.’’

It was obvious that this was the first Oliver had heard about the Valentine.

‘‘Peggy had a valentine in her hand for you,’’ Tempest said.

‘‘Peggy knew I loved her. We were going to get married.’’ He sounded shaken and not at all sure.

‘‘What will you do now?’’ Tempest asked.

Oliver looked confused again.

‘‘About leaving Mitzy?’’ she asked.

‘‘I don’t know.’’ He seemed to give it some thought. ‘‘I guess I won’t have to do anything if she’s arrested for murder.’’ The thought didn’t sound like a new one.

‘‘How would that make you feel, knowing that Mitzy killed the woman you loved?’’ Jack asked.

Oliver seemed at a loss for words.

‘‘You never planned to marry Peggy, did you?’’ Jack snapped. ‘‘You planned to just take off once you got your money. You weren’t just running out on Mitzy. You were going to run out on Peggy, too.’’

‘‘No.’’ The word had no conviction in it.

‘‘You needed a clean break and you didn’t want to have to pay anymore,’’ Jack continued. ‘‘So you killed Peggy and now you’re hoping to frame Mitzy for the murder.’’

‘‘You’re wrong,’’ Oliver pleaded. ‘‘You just want to see me fry for this. That would make you both happy, wouldn’t it?’’ He was looking at Tempest, looking afraid of her. And she was looking at him as if seeing him fry would definitely make her day.

Jack stared at the two of them for a moment, feeling incredibly tired. ‘‘Don’t leave town,’’ he said with a sigh as he snapped off the recorder and opened the interrogation room door to leave.

‘‘
I’m
not going anywhere,’’ Oliver said and was still looking at Tempest, implying maybe that she was going somewhere when Jack looked back at them.

He could hear Tempest coming behind him as he left the room. Once in his office, he turned to face her. ‘‘What’s with you and Oliver?’’ he demanded.

She raised a brow, either at his tone or his question.

‘‘He thinks we’re both out to get him. I have my own reasons for disliking the ass, but what are yours?’’

‘‘My own and nothing to do with this case.’’ She started to turn to leave, but he grabbed her arm. She froze and he quickly let go.

‘‘You’re not making this any easier,’’ he said with a sigh.

‘‘Oh, is that my job, to make things easier for you?’’ she asked.

They stood looking at each other.

‘‘What do you want from me?’’ he demanded. ‘‘I’m sorry about the way I treated you in high school, I’m sorry I resented it when you tried to butt into my life with Frannie, all right?’’ Just saying her name made it feel as if she’d materialized and now stood with them, a small, dark, troubled apparition, the kind of woman in life who just naturally made a man like him protective of her.

‘‘I was trying to help Frannie.’’

‘‘Come on, you thought she made a mistake marrying me,’’ he said.

‘‘Marriage wasn’t the answer to the problem,’’ she snapped. ‘‘You just had to play the big man taking care of the little woman. You were so damned sure that by whisking her away from here, that you could save her. You were so sure that your love was enough that she couldn’t possibly need for anything else.’’

Her words hit like stones, too many of them striking their mark.

Tempest turned and started to leave his office, but stopped and swung back around to face him. ‘‘I loved Frannie, too,’’ she said, tears in her eyes. ‘‘You weren’t the only one who tried to save her. We just didn’t know what the hell we were trying to save her from.’’

‘‘The rape,’’ Jack said, his voice barely a whisper. ‘‘I took her away from here so she wouldn’t have to remember.’’

‘‘But she couldn’t forget, Jack.’’

Neither could he. He’d always remember the night he’d found Frannie, crumpled like a doll in the corner of their bedroom, her clothes torn, her body bruised and bloody, her eyes blank as darkness. Frannie had never been able to tell him what had happened. Never been able to tell anyone. The shock of the rape had left her with no memory of her attacker, the doctors said.

The sheriff at the time speculated Frannie had been raped by someone just passing through. A stranger. A lot of people hitchhiked through the state and Jack and Frannie had moved in together in a place only a block from the main highway.

Jack blamed himself. For them living so close to the highway because he didn’t want them using Frannie’s money. For him not being home that night because he’d been working for Otto Sanders and had been called out to fix some broken pipes at one of the condos. And Jack knew Tempest, Frannie’s best friend, blamed him as well because she’d never thought he and Frannie belonged together in the first place.

Of course he’d taken Frannie as far away from River’s Edge as possible after that. The doctor said she might never remember her attacker. Jack had always hoped she never would.

He looked at Tempest, wanting desperately to tell her how wrong she was about him and Frannie, to explain how hard he’d tried to help her. But the truth was, he
hadn’t
saved Frannie and for some reason he’d never understood, she seemed as if she’d needed protecting long before the rape.

His cell phone rang. He cursed as he answered it.

‘‘Sheriff?’’ Dobson said.

‘‘Yeah.’’

‘‘The bellhop at The Riverside says he has something important he needs to tell you. He gets off work in about fifteen minutes. He says he’ll only talk to you. He seems a little...scared.’’

Jack looked up at Tempest. ‘‘Tell him we’ll be right over.’’

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
HE BELLHOP
was a young man with short spiky bleached blond hair, several small silver hoop earrings and a skier tan that gave him racoon eyes—his face deeply tanned except around his eyes from his ski goggles.

‘‘I remembered something about Valentine’s Day that I thought you might want to know,’’ the bellhop said. ‘‘But first I have to know that I won’t lose my job if I tell you.’’

That was a promise Jack wasn’t sure he could keep. ‘‘Why don’t you tell me what it is first. Anything you tell us will be strictly confidential.’’ Jack figured he could get the kid a job somewhere in town if he got fired.

‘‘I didn’t think anything about it at the time, but someone went up the fire escape stairs to the penthouse,’’ the bellhop said. ‘‘I noticed the door closing and since only the Sanderses have a key.... What was weird about that was at the same time someone was going up the elevator to the penthouse—and I’d just seen Mr. Sanders’s secretary go up with a whole bunch of packages. I just figured Mrs. Sanders had taken the stairs and that they were at it again. But then Mrs. Sanders walked in not long after that.’’

‘‘At it again?’’ Jack asked.

The young man blushed to the roots of his blond do. Obviously he’d been warned about discussing the Sanderses’ personal problems. ‘‘Oh...ah...I mean—’’

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