The Key (6 page)

Carly’s mind was working overtime. She
quickly closed the case and got to her feet. Lookin
g round the bedroom
, she noticed
a
bright
yellow
sticky notes
cube and
a
pen on
Scott
’s bedside cabinet next to the telephone.

I’ll phone 911
.
I won’t leave my name. I’ll just tell them to get over hear quick. I’ll leave before they get here.

Just as she was about to lift the receiver Carly had second thoughts.

This is going to drag
Scott
into it.
Poor guy
.
He’s
had it hard enough
.
I
have to leave him out of this.
I’ll take the
attaché
case down to the police
station; say I found it in the street
,
or something.

Instead of picking up the phone Carly picked up the sticky note pad
and pen and started to write,
“
Scott
, sorry
but I
must do this.
I f
ound the
attaché
case.
I k
now you must have covered for Vince. He killed Tracey Dawn Jackson
.
I’m t
aking
the
case to police.
I w
on’t involve you.”

Carly pulled
several sheets together off the
sticky
note pad,
and
popped them and the pen into to her jeans pocket.
Hurrying silently along the corridor, she
was happy that she could still hear Scott snoring like an old
freight
train.
Entering cautiously into the
room, Carly attached the
yellow
sticky note to an empty beer bottle that was standing on the coffee table.
There
’s
no way that
he’ll
miss that
, she sadly thought.

Carly
returned to the bedroom to get the case, and then headed downstairs to gather
her personal belongings
together. She put the
attaché case under her coat
as
she left the
C
abbage Tree
pub for the last time.

J
ust
a short way from the police station, Carly suddenly got ‘cold feet’. Questions
started to fly
through her head as she pondered on how to handle the situation. Spotting a wooden bench she sat herself down to gather her thoughts.

Am I doing the right thing? What will I tell the officer? Will he believe me?

After five minutes
of pondering, Carly reached a decision.

Pulling
the sticky note pages and the pen from her
jeans
pocket, she began to write.
“T
his case belongs to Vincent Halliday. It contains a locket which almost certainly belonged to Tracey Dawn Jackson.
”

Pulling
a handkerchief from her bag, Carly placed the attaché
case flat on her knee. Then
making sure no one was about
,
she wiped the case thoroughly to remove a
ll of her
fingerprints from it.
The next step was to
stick
her
note to the case, and to wipe the prints from that also.
Then, u
sing
her
handkerchief to hold onto the handle
of the case
, she rose from the bench and walked confidently into the police station.

A
solitary
overweight
police
office
r
was
sitting
at his desk, feet up, telephone in
one
hand,
and
tightly
gripping a
large sandwich
in the other
. The contents of the sandwich were sp
ewing
from the sides and falling onto his shirt. He didn’t notice Carly enter
ing the station,
so
she quietly placed the
case on
to
the counter
and left
.

God, t
hat was stressful
.
Crossing the street
, Carly
stepped quickly into the shadows and waited.
She left herself a clear view through the open door of the small town police station.

It wasn’t too long until she saw the
officer
at the counter, scratching his head,
as if wondering where the attaché case had come from. As soon as Carly saw him take hold of the case, she turned and hurried to the bus stop. She wanted to be on the last bus
out of town
before the
inevitable
commotion
would start
.

Her timing was impeccable as the rickety old bus pulled up just as she arrived.
Phew
.
Carly breathed a huge sigh of relief as she boarded the bus,
knowing that
in
about
an hour’s time she
would be
safely
back to the security of her home in Beacon Glade.

Being the last
bus
it
was fairly empty
,
and only a couple of people boarded and alighted during her journey
. This was good news, as
the journey took
a little
less time than expected.
Nevertheless, when Carly stepped off the bus she felt emotionally and physically exhausted.

Did anyone see me go into the police station, s
he wondered during her short walk home.
Every muscle
of
my body is aching. I can’t wait to get
back in
my
apartment and
kick off
my
shoes.
What a day!

It was approaching midnight when the local
patrol
car pulled up outside the Halliday residence in Mansion Hollow.

Mansion Hollow was a purpose-built
town
.
A
small exclusive area where only the extremely wealthy could afford to reside.
This gated community kept outsiders OUT, and that’s how the residents liked it.

The twin marble columns towered above
Officer
McRoberts and
Officer
Flanagan
as they approached the giant front door
. Flanagan rang the door bell
. They smirked at each other.
They’d had minor dealings with Vincent Halliday in the past, and his superior attitude had always irked them and everyone else down at the station. Tonight, they got to take him in for questioning, and his usual responses of, “Do you know who I am,” or
“
I’m best friends with the Mayor,” wouldn’t help him at all.

It was Vincent
, glass of wine in hand,
who answered the door to the officers
. He wasn’t
too pleased to see them there.
“Do you know what time this is?”
he growled as he
glanced
down
at his
Rolex Oyster.

“Yes sir, we do know what time it is. Can we come in M
r.
Halliday, sir?
” asked McRoberts.

“What’s this about
? It had
better be good
.
”

“If we could just step inside, s
ir,” urged Flanagan in a
more
serious tone.

“I don’t like your attitude
. T
ell me what you want
right
now!”

“O.K.
If you insist
, sir
.
Vincent Halliday, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Tracey Dawn Jackson…”

Vincent’s jaw dropped as Flanagan continued to read him his rights.

“Vince
nt
what’s taking so
long
? W
ho’s that at the door?” The approaching woma
n’s voice
belonged to Deborah J Halliday.
“What’s going on Vince
nt?
Why are the police here
? H
as there been an accident
? W
hat is it?” There was a growing panic in her voice as
it grew louder with each word.

Handing his wife the wine glass
,
Vincent spoke confidently
.
“I
t’s nothing to worry about
, Deborah
. There’s been
a huge
mistake. Call
Edwin
and tell him I’ve been arrested. Tell him to get down to the station
.
NOW
!
”

Edwin R Cornelly
was
a
lawyer to the rich and famous. He knew every trick in the book, and his clients expected him to be at their beck and call any hour of the day or night.

Flanagan
spun Vincent around and handcuffed his hands behind his back. Vincent was then escorted
to the patrol car where he
was
unceremoniously
helped
into the back seat
.
Oops, sorry, sir
, Flanagan taunted
as he
turned and
winked at McRoberts
.

“You’re making a big mistake. I’ll have your job for this.”

McRoberts and Flanagan escorted
an unwilling
Vincent into the police station.
The elderly desk sergeant glanced up from his newspaper, and immediately beamed an ear-to-ear smile revealing crooked teeth and lack of dental hygiene going back dozens of years. I
t was
obviously a great
pleasure to see Vincent Halliday not looking so smug for a change.
P
ayback time
, he thought
.

Tossing his newspaper aside, the desk sergeant grabbed a form
from his desk
and
slowly strutted his way
over to the
prisoner
.

“Name?” said the desk sergeant gruffly.

“What do you mean
,
name? You know who I am.”

“Name?” the officer repeated
.

“You
wanna
be funny, fine. I’m not saying another word till my lawyer gets here.”

Vincent Halliday looked like a spoiled
brat throwing
a tantrum because he couldn’t get his own way. He was used to being in control
,
but here and now he had
absolutely
no
power
over anyone
. A
nd he didn’t like it.

The telephone on the counter top rang and the desk sergeant answered it. Wh
at
ever was
being said at the other end of
the telephone pleased
him, because another
goofy
smile manifested itself.

When he hung up the phone he looked directly at Vincent.
“Well,
sir. It
looks like you won’t be talking
to us
for quite a while. Your lawyer
, M
r.
Cornelly, won’t be joining us
just yet.
It seems he had an earlier appointment with a whisky bottle
.
I’m afraid
that
until he arrives we’ll have to
pop you into a
nice cold
cell
. T
hat is unless you want to call a different lawyer?
”

The three officers could
n’t
hide their
delight
.
The
y k
new that Vincent wouldn’t want anyone else to handle his case; especially
as
it was so serious. They
also
knew
that
it would be hours before Edwin Cornelly was
safe
ly
below the alcohol limit to
drive
.
And Vincent w
ould be so desperate
after his extended time in an uncomfortable and damp cell, that it would be an open-and-shut case.