Smash Cut (31 page)

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Authors: Sandra Brown

Tags: #Legal, #Suspense, #Fiction, #General, #Georgia, #Thrillers, #Rich people, #Atlanta (Ga.), #Trials (Murder), #Legal stories, #Rich People - Georgia

BOOK: Smash Cut
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D
ESPITE THE HARROWING DAY SHE’D HAD, ARIEL GOT EVERYTHING ready for her dinner date by seven-thirty. The roast filled her small house with a scrumptious aroma. The salad was chilling in the fridge. The Cabernet was breathing. A bowl of roses was in the center of the table, flanked by tapers that were ready to light.
So organized was she that twelve minutes had been allocated for her to shower and refresh her makeup before dressing. Her sundress had a halter top and a scandalously short skirt.
She smoothed lotion on her shaved legs and slipped on her high-heeled sandals, fluffed her hair, dabbed fragrance on her bare shoulders and between her breasts, threaded gold wires through her earlobes, and she was ready.
At seven-thirty she put match to candles, then peeped out the window in her front door and scanned the street for the first sign of him, wondering if he would arrive in the Porsche. Imagine what the neighbors would think when it growled down their block of modest houses and parked in front of hers!
At seven-thirty-five she checked the roast to make certain it wasn’t drying out.
By seven-forty-five she was concerned, but not really worried. He could be stuck in traffic. Because of rubbernecking, a flat tire on the shoulder of the freeway could slow traffic, a fender bender could bring it to a standstill.
At ten of eight, she told herself she would just die if he stood her up again. She really would.
What was this, Crap on Ariel Week?
Earlier today she’d almost fainted when she was summoned to her boss’s office and he’d introduced her to the squatty woman detective. “She wants to ask you some questions.”
That had been an understatement.
For the next half hour, the detective had grilled her about Billy Duke. This not an hour after Ariel had resolved, now that he was dead, to banish him from her mind forever. How like him to continue being a menace.
She’d owned up to placing the anonymous call to the police hotline, believing that would demonstrate to the detective what a solid citizen she was. But she wasn’t let off the hook that easily. Roberta Kimball had persisted, asking her questions about Omaha. “Did he ever live with you there?”
“No. Never. He spent the night at the apartment a few times, you know. But that’s all.”
She’d been particularly interested in learning when Ariel had last seen Billy.
“Not since his trial.” She hadn’t told the detective about his attempted visit to the house yesterday.
The detective had cited his repeated phone calls.
“But he never said anything, and neither did I. I always hung up.”
“What about your roommate? Did she ever talk to him?”
“No. Carol’s staying in Athens this summer.”
The detective had asked if Billy Duke had ever mentioned Paul Wheeler or Julie Rutledge.
“No. I’m absolutely certain of that. I’d never heard of them until Mr. Wheeler was killed.”
Ariel had answered all her questions truthfully, but she hadn’t volunteered anything. Eventually the detective had seemed satisfied that Ariel was telling her everything she knew and that to question her further would be a waste of time. She’d thanked Ariel for her cooperation and left.
Ariel had returned to her duties, pretending for the sake of her curious co-workers that she was unfazed by the interview. It certainly hadn’t been pleasant, but she’d got through it all right. Billy was dead. His days of preying on women were over. Soon people would forget that she’d had even a passing acquaintance with him.
Again, she’d set her mind on not letting anything, especially the late Billy Duke, spoil her evening with Tony. By the end of the workday, she had pushed the detective and everything relating to Billy from her mind and let herself anticipate the evening to come.
As a precaution, she hadn’t answered her phone. It had rung at regular intervals since she got home. She didn’t recognize the number, and there was no name to identify the caller. Fearing that Roberta Kimball was calling with another round of questions, she’d let her voice mail get it.
She knew it wasn’t Tony. She’d never given him her number—either her cell or home phone—and the oversight had been intentional. She’d avoided that because, secretly, she was afraid he would cancel on her.
When eight o’clock arrived and he still hadn’t shown, she was certain he wasn’t coming. How could he do this to her
twice
? How could she have been just as gullible the second time? He must think she was the biggest moron ever born. If he thought of her at all.
At eight-fifteen she blew out the candles and went into her bedroom to change clothes. Sobbing, she kicked off her sandals and was just reaching up to untie her halter when there was a soft knock on her front door.
Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest. All the horrible things she’d thought of him, and all the filthy names she’d called him, flew right out of her mind. Giddy with happiness, she ran to her door and yanked it open.
His name died on her lips.
While Ariel Williams was across town anxiously awaiting the arrival of her dinner date, Derek was shouting into his cell phone. “What do you mean she’s gotten coy?”
“Don’t you know what
coy
means?” Dodge fired back.
“Yeah, I know what
coy
means, but I thought you’d patched things up with her. All we’re asking for is an address.”
“You’re not Most Popular with the PD, Counselor, in case you didn’t know. On account of you, too many scumbags have gone free. Now you’re trying to get that Connor kid off. You’re making noises that the first cops on the scene fucked it up in terms of gathering evidence and that exculpatory information is being buried. Cops haven’t been this pissed off at a defense lawyer since the O.J. trial. The first one.”
“Are you finished?”
“I’m just saying. Cut me some slack. I got you the juvie file, didn’t I? Practically had to suck a guy’s dick, and what thanks do I get?”
“I’m sorry. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But we need that address, Dodge.”
“I understand. But if the rank and file of Atlanta’s finest don’t care who killed your dog, they sure as hell aren’t disposed to give you information, a piece of which is Ariel Williams’s address. And I can push Dora only so far. She’s a single mom of two. She’s got a job to protect. She says if they find out she’s the pipeline through which you’ve got information about the timing of the search of Ms. Rutledge’s house, and the autopsy, and—”
“All right.” Derek tiredly rubbed his forehead. He looked across the console of his car at Julie, who was also on her cell, talking to Kate. With a shake of her head, she let him know she was having no better luck than he.
Dodge was saying, “Things have really clamped down now that they’re officially seeking Julie for questioning into Duke’s demise.”
“I know you’re doing your best. But I’d really like that address. Ariel Williams may be the key to all this.”
“Beyond that…”
“What?”
“Well, knowing the kind of guy Creighton Wheeler is, I’m kinda worried about this girl. He wouldn’t have liked her identifying Duke to the police.”
“Even more reason to find her soon. Go back to your lady friend. Promise to let her be on top.” Derek slapped his phone shut.
Julie, who had ended her call seconds earlier, raised her eyebrows inquisitively.
“Don’t ask,” he said. “Kate have any luck?”
“She called the company where Ariel Williams works, but since it’s after hours, she got the number for emergencies. She called it but got another recording, asking the caller to leave name, number, and nature of the problem, and someone would get back.
“She’s looked up every possible way Ariel Williams could be listed in the phone directory, but there are thousands of Williamses, none of the combinations have been right, and if this girl is getting nuisance calls, it’s doubtful she’s listed anyway.
“A Google search turned up Ariel’s pages on Facebook and My-Space, but neither has her home address, and the most recent postings were two weeks ago. Kate has e-mailed her. No reply. She’s still searching.” She picked up a French fry that had turned cold, considered it, then returned it to the box with disinterest. “I feel rotten, asking Kate to do this for me.”
“She wants to help. She said so. She feels she owes it to you after talking to the police behind your back.”
“I know her willingness to help is genuine. But I’m a fugitive. She’s aiding and abetting.”
“Nobody’s asked her if she knows where you are.”
“Because she hasn’t answered the detectives’ calls. She doesn’t answer her phone unless she knows it’s me. That’s a deliberate evasion.”
“Which can’t be proved. Even if they do ask her your whereabouts, she can tell them honestly that she doesn’t know, because she doesn’t.” He looked through the windshield of his car at the neon golden arches of the McDonald’s. They’d ordered at the drive-through, then parked to eat their Big Macs while making their calls.
Derek had thought Ariel Williams might open up to them more easily than she would to a detective as intimidating as Roberta Kimball. It was worth a shot, anyway, so they’d started calling her as soon as they left Lindsay’s house, but had got the automated recording each time.
For almost three hours they’d been waiting for Dodge to come through with some useful information, such as her address, but so far he’d come up dry, too. He’d been unable to reach any of his moles at the DMV or tax office who could have accessed her records. And his policewoman had turned coy.
“He’s going to try more sweet talk,” Derek said.
“I can’t feature Dodge sweet-talking.”
“It’s a stretch.”
Julie folded the wrapper around the remains of her burger and replaced it in the sack along with her uneaten French fries. “Meanwhile I’m a fugitive from justice. Do you believe they could actually convict me?”
“No way.”
“Are you speaking from the heart, or is that your objective, professional opinion?”
“With what they’ve got, they can’t convict you. I’d stake my career on it.”
She gave him a wan smile. “I think you have.”
“I’ll continue to.”
“I’m not as afraid of being tried and convicted as I am of Creighton going free. He’s evil, Derek.”
He put his scraps into the sack along with hers. “You’ll get no argument from me. I’ve only been back to my house once since I found Maggie. I haven’t wanted to go back. I can’t picture myself in those rooms without her. It was an act of senseless brutality. He did it out of pure meanness. Evil, if you will.
“Not only did he kill my beloved pet, he also desecrated my home. It won’t ever be the same for me. Each time I think about that, this rage boils up inside of me. And whenever Maggie crosses my mind…” He stopped, unable to go on.
Leaning across the console, Julie placed her hands on his cheeks and gently kissed his lips.
When she pulled away, his eyes roved over the features of her face. He whispered, “That meeting and falling in love thing I talked about over breakfast?”
She nodded.
“Well, guess what?”
He gazed at her meaningfully, and it held until his cell phone rang. He flipped it open. “Please tell me Dora’s come through.”
“I may have to marry her.”
“Ariel Williams?”
The young woman’s elated smile collapsed upon seeing them. The color in her cheeks was high, and it was evident to Julie that she’d been crying. Her mascara was smeared. Except for shoes, she was dressed for a special occasion, not for a quiet night at home. Beyond her, Julie saw wisps of smoke curling from candles recently blown out.
“Ariel Williams?” Julie repeated.
Speechlessly, she bobbed her head.
“My name is Julie Rutledge.”
She swallowed visibly. “I know who you are.”
“How?” Derek asked.
Her eyes shifted to him. “I’ve seen her on TV. On the news.”
“My name is Derek Mitchell.” When she neither said nor did anything to acknowledge that, he said, “We’d like to talk to you.”
“About what? If it’s about Billy, I already told the police everything I know.” Her lower lip trembled slightly. “And this isn’t a good time.”
“Do you know how Billy Duke died?” Julie asked.
“You stabbed him or something.”
“The medical examiner believes he died of liver failure due to a drug overdose.”
Ariel’s eyes, shiny with recent tears, widened. “I never knew him to do drugs.”
“He fell into a knife that I was holding to protect myself, but he died of an overdose of a common pharmaceutical. I didn’t give it to him. We, Mr. Mitchell and I, believe a man named Creighton Wheeler did.” Julie paused, then said, “Please, Ariel, may we come in for just a few minutes? We promise not to stay long. It’s very important or we wouldn’t impose on you.”
The girl divided a look between then, then sighed. “I guess you’d just as well.”
The door opened directly into her living room. She motioned them toward the sofa, which had a muslin-colored slipcover accented by brightly colored throw pillows. It and a bentwood rocking chair were the two main pieces in the room. There were a couple of mismatched tables and lamps, a leafy, well-tended ficus tree near the window, framed travel posters on the walls. Decorated on a budget but with an eye for color and proportion, it reminded Julie of her first apartment in Paris. It was a pleasant room and very tidy.
Ariel sat down in the rocking chair, and to Julie, it seemed she was indifferent to them and the reason that had brought them unannounced to her front door. The dining table was set with dishes and glassware, flowers and candles. A bottle of wine had been uncorked but was still full.
Julie caught Ariel wistfully glancing at it. “Are you expecting a guest?”
“Yeah, but he…he seems to be running late.”
That explained the recently extinguished candles and her mascara-streaked cheeks.
Derek said, “He’s missing out. It smells great, and that’s a knockout dress.”
“Thanks.” She blushed. “So what do you want to know?”
“Start with how you met Billy Duke.”
She rolled her eyes. “I rue the day. My friend and I were out clubbing.”
“This was in Omaha?” Derek asked.
She affirmed that with a nod. “Billy showed up at this club we were at. We hung out that night. Then he started coming there regularly. He was cute. Friendly. A snappy dresser, drove a nice car, and didn’t mind buying the rounds. He was very boastful, always acting the stud, always flashing money around. But he was never specific about what he did for a living. Now I know why he didn’t talk about his work. He was a professional con artist. A swindler.”
“You didn’t know until later that he was involved with the widow and stealing from her?”
“God no! But by then I had begun to suspect that he was shifty.”
“What made you suspect?”
“He broke dates. He avoided giving direct answers to direct questions. He would disappear for days at a time, then show up with flowers and wine but without an explanation as to where he’d been. All signs that he was two-timing.” She addressed Julie. “But you know how we women are. We hate to admit what we know in our heart.”
Again she glanced at the table, and the disappointment in her expression touched Julie. She seemed like a sweet girl, and she’d been hurt. Coming back to them, she said, “When Billy was arrested, I saw it as an opportunity to make a fresh start. I talked Carol into—”
“Carol?” Derek asked.
“My roommate.”
“I talked her into leaving Omaha and going someplace new. She and I moved here. We loved it right off. The food. The way people talk.” Her brow puckered into a frown. “I wasn’t all that shocked when Billy was charged with extortion. The trial and all. And then they let him go! I couldn’t believe it!”
“The prosecutor was sloppy,” Derek said. “He shouldn’t have based his whole case on the victim’s testimony. The minute the widow died, he lost.”
Ariel looked at him strangely. Julie said, “He’s a defense attorney.”
“Oh.”
Derek continued, “Billy followed you to Atlanta.”
“I couldn’t believe that, either. So much for a fresh start in a new place. The first time he called and identified himself, I was furious and hung up immediately. He didn’t have my cell number, but he continued to call the house phone.”
“We know his MO,” Derek said. “He wouldn’t say anything to you. You’d hang up.”
Sheepishly, she ducked her head. Derek glanced at Julie, and she knew he had sensed a lie. “I told that detective—Ms. Kimball?—I told her that I’d never talked to him. But that’s not entirely true. He had called here the same night I called the hotline and gave them his name. I’d had it with his stupid calls. I shouted at him, told him he was pathetic and that these phone games were childish, and ordered him to stop. Of course he didn’t. He kept on calling right up to the night before he died. He called from a number I didn’t recognize, so I answered. But it was him.”
Julie leaned forward. “Did he say anything?”
“He tried, but it was garbled. I didn’t—” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, God. Do you think he’d already been drugged? Was he calling for help? I took the phone off the hook,” she said miserably.
“You figured it was another prank call,” Derek said to her kindly. “That was the last time you heard from him?”
Her gaze bounced between them as she worried her lower lip between her teeth. She couldn’t have looked guiltier, and Julie realized that this young woman couldn’t lie convincingly no matter how hard she tried. Roberta Kimball must not have asked the right questions.
Derek said her name, softly, as though he was gentling a spooked foal. “Is there something else?”
She hesitated, then blurted out, “Billy came here yesterday. But I was at work.” She rattled off a story about an elderly neighbor who lived across the street. “She saw him banging on my door. She yelled at him and asked what he wanted. He said it was a matter of life or death that he talk to me. She said he didn’t look right. In fact, she thought he was on drugs. I thought that was just an old person talking, but I guess she was right. Anyway, he frightened her. She ran inside and locked her door.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Now, I think maybe he was coming to me for help. Oh, gosh, I feel just awful. I mean, I couldn’t stand the guy, he was a crook, but if he was dying…” The tears spilled over her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks. “Why didn’t he go to the hospital?”
Derek said, “Maybe he didn’t know he’d ingested a deadly dosage.”
“If he’d gone to the hospital, he’d have been arrested,” Julie said. “He didn’t want that.” She reached across the space separating them and covered Ariel’s clenched hands. “But I understand exactly how you feel. He was inside my house. The police think for a time. Hours maybe. I believe he went there to plant evidence to make me look guilty of killing Paul. But he was also dying. I didn’t know that. I reacted as anyone would who thought they were being attacked.”
“I never thought you meant to kill him,” Ariel said. “When I heard on the news what had happened, I knew there must be some other explanation. An overdose. Jeez. Who did you say you suspect of giving it to him?”
“Paul Wheeler’s nephew, Creighton,” Derek said.
“The name sounds familiar. Has he been on TV, too?”
“No,” Julie said, giving Derek a glance. “He ducks publicity. His name is familiar to you because the police did question him several times.”
The girl’s eyes brightened. “He had an alibi. I remember now.”
“However, Julie and I think Creighton conspired to have his uncle murdered.”
“With Billy?”
“Yes. We think they struck a deal in Omaha, that Creighton killed the widow who was about to testify against Billy, then presented Billy with an IOU.”
“Wow.” Ariel pieced it together mentally. “Then once Billy had served his purpose, this nephew wanted him out of the picture?”
“That’s what we believe,” Julie told her. “Unfortunately, we can’t substantiate it. That’s why we came to you. We hoped you might provide us with something.”
“Like what?”
“Like a link between Creighton and Billy,” Derek said.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I never heard him mention anyone named Creighton.”
“What about Billy’s friends in Omaha?”
“If he had any friends, I didn’t know them.”
Derek leaned forward. “Ariel, I don’t want to frighten you. But Creighton has hurt people. I’m not guessing or making false accusations. The violent crimes he’s committed are a matter of record. If he considered Billy Duke a threat he had to eliminate, he may consider you one, too.”
“Me?” she squeaked. “I never even met him.”
“But you were connected to Billy. You identified Billy to the police. Creighton may fear that Billy told you something about him.”
She was looking at them wildly.
“Ariel.” Julie reached out and touched her hand again. “As Derek said, we don’t want to alarm you. But on the outside chance Creighton should approach you, get away from him as quickly as you can and call the police.”
“If not the police, one of us.” Derek took a business card from his breast pocket and jotted down several phone numbers on the back of it before passing it to her. “There are all my numbers, Julie’s cell, and my investigator’s cell phone. His name is Dodge. He knows about you. He’ll respond immediately. Good guy to have on your side.”
She took the card and clutched it in her fist. “I don’t want to stay here by myself. I’m going to ask Carol to come back.”
“Good idea.” Derek smiled at her with reassurance. “I truly think if Creighton was going to contact you, he would have done so by now.” He looked at Julie. “Anything else?”
“Just be careful, Ariel, and stay in touch. I’d like to know how you’re doing.”
Somewhat shyly, she said, “It was sad what happened to Mr. Wheeler.”
“Yes, it was. Thank you.”
They all stood and walked to the door. Derek glanced back at the table. “Did your dinner date stand you up?”
Ariel sighed. “Looks like it. He was due here over an hour ago.”
“What’s his name? I’ll hunt him down and beat him up for you.”
She giggled, blushing again over Derek’s attention. “His name’s Tony. Bruno actually, but he goes by Tony.”
“No wonder,” Derek remarked. “Whatever his name is, he’s a fool for passing up a date with you.”
“Thanks,” she said, her blush deepening.
They shook hands with her, then started down the walk toward Derek’s car. “She’s cute. Sweet,” he said. “I feel for her, getting mixed up in murder and mayhem and none of it having anything to do with her.”
“So do I. On top of that, her date stood her up.”
“What a jerk.”
“I could tell the moment she opened the door that something was wrong. Then I saw the table and—” Julie stopped dead in her tracks and grabbed his arm. “Oh my God!”
She spun around and ran back toward the house.
“Julie? What?”
“His name,” she called back to him. “I just caught it.”
“His name?”
“Bruno. That’s the name of the killer in
Strangers on a Train.
”
“Jesus, you’re right.”
Julie reached Ariel’s door first and began knocking hard on it and shouting her name. The girl opened it, wide-eyed with fear. “What now?”
“Bruno,” Julie blurted. “What’s his last name?”
“Anthony. That’s where he gets Tony.”
Julie looked at Derek. “Bruno Anthony.”
“Why?” Ariel asked. “What’s the matter?”
“What does he look like, Ariel?”
“He’s…he’s very good looking. I mean like superhot.”
“Tall? Slender? Blond? Blue eyes?”
She nodded.
“Well dressed? Very debonair.”
“How’d you know?”
“That’s Creighton Wheeler.”
The young woman fell back a step.
“When did you meet him?” Derek asked.
“A few nights ago.”
“Where? How? Did he approach you?”
“Yeah. At…at Christy’s. The bar? I…I caught him staring at me. He…he came over and started talking and bought me a drink.” She told them about his inviting her for coffee, then running out on her. “The valet told me he left with another woman.”
“That must have been me,” Julie said, addressing herself to Derek. Then back to Ariel: “I might have saved your life that night.”
“That’s probably why he was so angry when he came to my house after that encounter,” Derek said. “You’d thwarted his plans for Ariel.”
She whimpered, “His plans for me?”
In a protective gesture, Derek placed his hand on her shoulder. “Damn, I’m glad we found you tonight.”
“Yes, thank God,” Julie breathed.
Ariel didn’t share their relief. “Why would he want to hurt me?”
“Somehow he learned, probably through Billy, that it was likely you who identified Billy to the police. And you said Billy was boastful. Maybe Creighton feared that, in the hope of winning back your affection, Billy had bragged about being in cahoots with a rich guy, about killing his uncle for him.”
“In the hope of winning back my affection?”
“After he’d cheated on you with the widow.”
Confused, Ariel looked at them in turn. “Billy didn’t cheat on
me
. He wasn’t
my
boyfriend. He was Carol’s.”

CHAPTER
27

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