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Authors: Lois Lavrisa

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BOOK: Liquid Lies
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I curled into a fetal position on the bench, and I attempted to lose myself in sleep. I failed wretchedly. The plastic mat stuck to my skin and crinkled when I moved.

Every noise echoed. The air conditioning blasted like a blow dryer from the ceiling vents. Footsteps outside the door reverberated like an army marching by. And the conversation of my two drunken next door neighbors echoed off the walls.

“I’m telling you man, he can’t come in to our territory and start trouble with us. Hell, I didn’t want to fight. He started it. But no, you and I are here, not Mr. My Shit Don’t Stink,” the gravel voice bellowed from the cell next to me.

“Yeah man. And his suit buddy too. They got no business busting our asses. Can’t a guy ask another guy a question?” the frog voice said. “Ain’t no law against questions.”

Someone burped.

“Yeah. We got rights,” the gravelly voice said.

I heard a slap or clap. Maybe, like all guys, they probably high fived each other.

“They ain’t better than us. No sir. Matter of fucking fact I bet they’re worse than us. 'Cause you don’t go from nothing to big wig without cutting off people’s balls. It just don’t happen,” the gravelly voice said.

“Damn straight. You’re right man. ‘Cause men like us work our asses off,” the deeper frog like voice said. “We just can’t get ahead. Can’t catch a break.”

“Fuck him. Like, he cut off our balls,” the gravelly voice said. “We didn’t want to work for them anyway.”

“We could work anywhere. We’ve got skills. I mean, I could have done his daughter’s job. Shit,” the frog voice said.

Someone gargled then spit.

“I heard she was knocked up by a married guy. Like fuck his high and mighty attitude, at least we don’t shit on people to get stuff, right man?” the gravelly voice got louder.

“Fire us for stealing some axe. Fuck, like he can’t afford a million of them,” the frog voice said. “Hey buddy. You know I love ya, right? You got my back?”

“Yah. I love ya man,” gravel voice said. “But we ain’t thieves and he can’t prove it. But his shit speaks louder than ours.”

“Ain’t that the goddamn truth man,” the frog voice said. “It’s screw the little people and I don’t mean midgets.”

They both laughed.

An officer walked in. “All right guys. Time to wrap up this party. Get out.”

“Excuse me, gentleman I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but who were you talking about?” I asked as I stood next to the bars.

I heard a metal door unlock. The officer walked down the hall. One tall Willie Nelson looking guy and the other shorter Danny Devito looking one followed the officer.

“Assholes McNally and Pike. Pardon my French ma'am. Why didn’t you tell me you was so cute? Huh?” the Willie Nelson with the frog voice said. He moved closer next to the bars where I stood.

The officer yelled back, as he held the door open, “Keep moving guys.”

“You’re sure a looker. What’s a sweet little young thing like you in for anyway?” The gravel voice Danny Devito man leaned in next to his friend, breath still smelling of alcohol, his hair and clothes disheveled.

“Did you get too many parking tickets in your daddy’s car?” The Willy Nelson with the frog voice laughed. “Huh sweet thing? Why you here?”

“Murder,” I said.

You could have heard the floor paint peel.

Chapter Thirty-Six

 

 

 

Detective Vince Gentry Junior told me that he got in contact with the Englewood police, the place I killed the trucker. The Englewood police wanted a videotaped confession from me. Detective Wurkowski and Detective Gentry sat with me, guiding along with questions, while I gave my full story of the night of the trucker’s death. It took about two hours.

Afterward, when they told me I could leave, I declined. I had nowhere to go, so I went back to the cell. There was so much information, and so many possible clues to Francesca and Mark’s deaths. What I needed to do was sort through them. And now I had information from my jailhouse companion’s conversation. Whether it could be useful or not, I wasn’t sure.

It appeared they had some disagreement with Pike and McNally in the Lake Ness bar tonight. I also gathered that the two drunks were regulars there. Also they had talked about being accused of stealing an axe. Is that why they were fired? They must have worked on phase one of the hospital’s expansion.

McNally and Pike both had interests in the hospital’s expansion project. Jacob worked there until something happened between Francesca and him. Something, like he figured out she killed his dad. But I didn’t know if she knew that he was the blackmailer.

I had been past the hospital dozens of times. There was a mobile home set on the site where Jacob said he changed Friday night and put his necklace.

Presumably the pregnant daughter and married man were Francesca and McNally.

I was suddenly aware of the implications of that. McNally’s mistress pregnant. That would completely destroy him. Then it all came to me. My heart jumped.

Bob McNally had an affair with Francesca. It was probably clandestine, until she became pregnant. If she continued the pregnancy, eventually a baby bump would show. As the mayor's unmarried daughter, it would be great gossip as to who the father was. So, McNally had to destroy the evidence, before it ruined him. He had to kill her.

Maybe I was reaching here, but he could have been upset with Francesca, and wanted to meet with her the same night I ran into her at H&K’s. So she had me to do the blackmail money drop, while she met with him.

In the meantime, McNally took an axe from the hospital’s construction site. Somehow Mark found out that McNally had an axe, and that same axe was used to kill Francesca. And this is why McNally had to kill Mark. I backed up my thoughts. How did this chain of events take place?

The mayor was at the funeral home Saturday night. Someone must have told the mayor that the murder weapon was an axe. Maybe the mayor called McNally from the funeral home with the news, and McNally found out Mark was there too and therefore knew about the axe. Maybe he overheard Mark’s conversation with me, when he told me that he knew about the weapon.

So McNally had to kill Mark. My reasoning had some big leaps of faith and I stretched some logic and facts. But somehow I knew I was onto something big. I reviewed the night Francesca was killed, Friday night. When I ran into her at H&K’s, she must have heard from McNally as well as the blackmailer. They both requested meeting her at the same time. She was stuck. Since she was the only one who could meet with McNally, she had me do the money drop. After all, I was part of the reason she was blackmailed.

McNally must have lured her with some plan he’d concocted. He might have said he was divorcing his wife so that he could marry her, since she was having his baby. Or he may have wanted to convince her to have an abortion. Somehow he got her to meet with him. However, all along he had the axe and planned to kill her.

What happened next? I couldn’t picture the murder scene. But her neighbor Doug saw Francesca on her dock. Doug said he had to go to bed. So when he saw her she was alone. Then McNally showed up.

That’s when Ken and I were on the boat, and I saw a figure on the dock. If my assumption was right, it had to be McNally on the dock. He hit her with the axe, knocked her out, and then cut her head off. He had brought along something for her body. Plastic or something, and wrapped her body in it, but her head rolled into the water.

He saw us on the boat and felt pressured and had no time to retrieve her head so he left it in the water. Maybe he hoped her head would sink. And it would have had it not gotten caught in a log. The waves pushed the log, tangled with Francesca’s hair, into the middle of the lake. An hour or so later, Ken’s boat hit it.

My stomach lurched, my heart raced. I sat down.

If my theory was right, he wrapped her body, left, and then hid her body somewhere. But where?

It had to be the construction site with dumpsters and dug out holes. Shoot. It was a veritable hiding ground for bodies. I’ll have to tell the police this. But out of respect for the mayor, I had to let him know first. I just had to. Then we could go to the police together.

When I questioned McNally, he denied he was a killer. He lied. I saw him at the service, no tears, no grief. Instead he constantly looked at his phone.

McNally knew Jacob worked on the job site, and had a locker there. So McNally planted Jacob’s necklace where the police would find it and become suspicious of Jacob. But why Jacob? I didn't know. McNally must have needed to pin the murder on someone.

But what McNally didn’t know is that I knew for a fact that Jacob was not the killer. He had an alibi for the time Francesca was killed. Jacob was innocent because he was the blackmailer who picked up a drop at the time of her death.

My whole body tingled. I had to tell the mayor that his daughter was killed by his buddy McNally.

“Excuse me? Hello?” I screamed from my cell. “Hello? Anyone hear me?

The door opened. “Yes Ms. Coe, Are you ready to leave?” Detective Gentry said.

“No, not yet. But I do want to use your land line to make a call now, please,” I said, so excited that I could just burst.

He opened the door. Then he led me to small room with a table and a phone. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

I dialed the mayor’s number and got an answering machine. “Hi Mr. Pike, mayor. It’s CiCi. I know who the killer is and---” the answering machine clicked off. It must be full. Damn. I wanted to leave him more information, about McNally. I wasn’t even able to tell him I was at the station. I hoped that the caller ID would show the station number.

Justice was within reach. Finally.

I looked up and said, “Francesca and Mark-- I figured it out. He won’t get away with it.”

Now I felt free even behind bars.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

 

 

 

“Ms. Coe, I’ve got some news for you.” Detective Gentry said. Detective Wurkowski stood by his side. “Will you please follow us?”

My legs were stiff as I tottered behind Wurkowski. They guided me to a conference room. I smelled coffee.

Jacob stood when I entered. My hair hadn’t been combed in I don’t know how long. Why did he have to see me like this and why was he here?

“Hi Jacob,” I said timidly. “How are you doing?” Yeah, like he wants to ever have anything to do with his dad’s killer. I was delusional.

Jacob nodded his head. His eyes were half closed, as though he hadn’t slept well. His hair was wet. He wore a jean jacket over a black t-shirt. For a second, I thought of us in his bed, and I felt so wonderful. My heart ached knowing that I would never hold him again, never feel his kisses. I’d blown that chance. I had to face up to who I was. He deserved better.

“Why doesn't everyone take a seat,” Detective Wurkowski suggested.

This was the same room, with the two-way mirror, I had been in when they first questioned me. A digital recorder sat on the table along with stacks of paper and some pens. A thermos stood in the center of the table along with cups.

“Help yourself,” Detective Gentry said as he pointed to the center of the table.

“Ms. Coe, we’ve done a lot of research on your case. And we have some things we need to share with you. We thought it best that the victim’s son be here as well,” Detective Wurkowski said.

“Fine by me,” I said. “I’m sorry. You weren’t looking for my approval, were you?”

The detectives chuckled. Jacob did not.

“Mr. Frank Stanley Elmore was the trucker you say you killed. The Englewood police faxed information to us. We’ve made a lot of calls and read through a great deal of material. We wanted you both here, Ms. Coe, Mr. Elmore. I’m going to give it to you straight,” Detective Wurkowski said as he leaned his arms on the table. “Mr. Elmore, were you aware that there were several reports of women raped by a trucker at truck stops around the country?”

“No sir.” Jacob shifted in his chair.

“How well did you know your father?” Detective Wurkowski said.

“Not too well. My folks split when I was five. My mom had full custody. I only saw my dad maybe once a year. For a few days at most,” Jacob said. “Why?”

“After your father died, they ran his DNA,” Detective Wurkowski said. “Did he engage in any unusual activity when you were together?”

“What do you mean by unusual? It was just us guys hanging out. We did fun things when we were together. You know like, baseball games, carnivals and eating junk food.” Jacob added, “He was a great dad to me.”

“Did you ever go on the job with him, you know, in his rig?” Detective Gentry asked.

“Only once, for my eighteenth birthday.” Jacob’s voice lowered. He looked at the floor. “The night he was killed.”

“I’m sorry. Really Jacob, we didn’t mean to.” I appealed. “I’m so sorry.”

Jacob would not look at me.

“That was the only night you were with him on his job?” Detective Wurkowski asked.

“Yes sir.” Jacob said.

“You may not want to hear what we have to tell you, Mr. Elmore. We understand that he may have been a good man to you, but he was also a predator. He stalked and preyed on young women at truck stops,” Detective Wurkowski said. “His DNA matched the rape victims.”

BOOK: Liquid Lies
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