5 Alive After Friday (16 page)

D
uring
the following hours, Sandy had difficulty concentrating and identifying her
emotions; thoughts seemed scattered and senseless. Martin told her later that she
had stood outside the hospital talking with friends until after midnight. Over
Martin’s objections, she insisted on driving her own car home. He could sense
that in spite of her distress and fatigue, she seemed capable, but he thought driving
an unnecessary burden for her.

He followed her to her apartment. She seemed fine
driving mechanically as though on autopilot. After parking in her usual spot behind
the apartments, she walked back around the building. The powerful perfume of
night-blooming jasmine overwhelmed her; how dare it smell so sweet on this particular
night. She came back out to the curb and sat with Martin in his car. The day
had begun with Chip alive, and she didn’t want it to end.

They talked for another hour. He suggested she
stay at his home for the night. Amelia, his father’s live-in caregiver, would
settle her into the guest room and their housekeeper would arrive early in the
morning and be busy in the kitchen for her to chat with.

Nevertheless, Sandy wanted to be alone and he understood.
She was exhausted and needed the seclusion and comfort of her own surroundings.
She hadn’t broken down into any sort of histrionics, nevertheless, he knew her.
She wasn’t delicate but not indestructible. At some point she’d crash and let
it all out. He wouldn’t let her go until convinced she’d be all right alone.

She said goodbye to him at the front door and
slowly went up the stairs to her small studio apartment. She kicked off her
shoes and shed her blouse and pants, leaving them where they fell. She curled
up on the twin-sized bed that just fit into the window nook. Her patchwork
quilt would be a shield against the world. She covered herself, pulled her
knees up almost to her chin and tried to make everything disappear except thoughts
of Chip. They had just decided they wanted to be in love with each other
forever—they were given less than two years. Twenty minutes later, she woke up
gasping, her heart pounding and echoing in her head. Sleep never came. The
stars had fallen from the sky.

In the morning her emotions were becoming clearer;
at least she knew she was sad and mad. Sad that he wouldn’t get to live out his
life—if anyone deserved to do that, it was Chip. And mad at just about
everything. The world wasn’t a nice place. She had another episode of the wave
of tightness overtaking her body with the feeling of choking. She went back to
bed and wrapped herself in the quilt until it passed.

She showered mechanically later that morning and
was tired from the effort. It hadn’t mattered anyway. What difference did a
shower make? Utterly unimportant. She should have stayed in bed. She set out
cereal for breakfast but decided she wasn’t hungry. A wave of tightness in her
body overtook her and the choking feeling returned. She moved over to her bed,
rolled over onto her stomach and starting sobbing. She immediately sat back up.
What was she doing—lying around blubbering and wallowing in self-pity?

At mid-morning, she felt better. She made a cup of
tea and phoned Martin, asking if she was supposed to be doing something. A
memorial service was planned, he said. There was nothing for her to do. He’d be
at the office later if she needed anything or wanted to get out of the
apartment. They could go for a little drive, perhaps walk along the beach. Sure,
she could go to the office or the beach, except she didn’t have the energy and
what would be the point?

In the days preceding the memorial service, the
feelings of grief seemed to flow away and return less frequently. She did leave
her apartment several times. Once to drive to the beach and just sit and then another
time with Martin. During that last drive with him, he took her aside and
explained that a few weeks back Chip had asked, since he felt they had a
committed relationship, that her name be put on the deed to his house as a
joint tenant with right of survivorship. He had asked that Martin not say
anything. Martin had taken care of the details. The legal paperwork was filed
and completed. Chip’s house belonged to her.

She almost screamed that she couldn’t deal with
the house. Didn’t want it, didn’t want to take care of it and didn’t even want
to think about it. Martin explained that he hadn’t mentioned it earlier for
just that reason; he didn’t want her worrying about the house until she felt
better. After she settled down, she did agree to meet Eddy Jaworski over at the
house.

He had the place all safe and secure, but wanted
her to retrieve any clothes or personal items she had there, before he temporarily
locked it up and gave her the keys. She could come back anytime, and the house would
sit there until she wanted to deal with it. It bothered her to be in the house.
She opened his closet, swooned over the scent of the clothes and left as soon
as possible. Eddy was patiently waiting for her. Then she remembered the CD’s;
the music that contributed to their falling in love and was the soundtrack of
their romance. She went back into the house and gathered the CDs.

She had difficulty sleeping the night before the
memorial service. It seemed she’d been awake longer than she’d slept. When
sleep didn’t come, she became tired of lying in bed. She sat up and turned on
the reading light she’d clipped on the headboard. She fumbled her hand down
beside the bed and picked up the top book of three gathering dust on the floor—a
worn copy of
Sense and Sensibility
, which
she had impulsively bought
for a quarter at a yard sale. She’d always meant to read it.

She started reading. Apparently, it helped, as she
was barely ten pages into the book when she caught herself nodding. That’s when
she thought she heard the click of her apartment door. She raised her eyes from
the book and looked across the short span from her bed to the door. With all
the upset to her usual routine, had she forgotten to lock it? She watched as the
door silently began to swing open. There was the silhouette of a man standing
in the doorway, his tall profile outlined in silver by the dim light behind him
in the hallway. She wasn’t afraid; she knew who it had to be. Although, his
visit in the middle of the night was surprising, she didn’t object. She
beckoned to him. He slowly crossed the room, sat on the edge of her bed and
reached out for her. She had longed for him to hold her again. He gathered her
into his arms, and she was lost in his familiar warmth. How had she lived
before he came into her life? No one would know what this man she’d come to
know had meant to her. He heard her crying. He held her out at arm’s length,
gave her that killer smile of his and kissed the tears on her cheeks. He didn’t
speak but looked deeply into her eyes; he was telling her he loved her, that
she wouldn’t be lonely and to not let life get her down. He pulled her to him and
their lips met, and as they kissed for the last time he simply faded away.

A
n officer
of the law slain in the line of duty is justifiably a big deal whether in a
large city or a small one such as Park Beach. Hundreds turned out for the
memorial service to mourn Detective Sergeant Ronald Goddard, Jr., son of the
former police chief. Police officers and sheriff deputies, as well as personnel
from the two adjoining counties, joined members of the public to attend the
mournful farewell. A few neighborhood businesses closed and some county offices
including the courthouse nearly emptied as well.

At first, Sandy didn’t recognize some of the city
and county detectives as she had never before seen them in uniform. Detective Eddy
Jaworski seemed to know everyone and functioned as an unofficial greeter
introducing and ushering people around. Sandy didn’t know or even recognize
many of the mourners. Most knew of her relationship with Chip and many assumed the
engagement was a fact and marriage a mere matter of time. So, naturally they accorded
her the appropriate sympathy.

Sandy began to sense some were treating her as a
near-widow. She resisted. She asked Jaworski early on to not direct people her
way. He was a lifesaver. Martin and Mel were at her side and deflected some of
the attention. Still, it didn’t stop the looks of people as they approached her
trying to think of something to say. Naturally, most introduced themselves as
friends of Chip. Commenting for her benefit, on exactly how they came to know
him. Their sympathies were appropriate and at any other time, she’d have loved
to listen. She understood it was how they grieved and certainly they all
deserved to grieve. She graciously greeted them all. Yet, she didn’t welcome
the attention, and it intruded on her sorrow, which she felt was quite
different from theirs.

Mel noticed her uneasiness and took the
opportunity to whisper, “I don’t believe you realize some of this grieving is
for you personally.”

“I know, they understand I’m the girlfriend, or
the fiancée or whatever. Some even believe we’re already married.”

“Beyond that. You stormed into this town three
years ago and went straight to the headlines. You aren’t an unknown. They may not
have met you, yet it would be difficult to find someone who hasn’t heard your
name or not know what you are all about. Of course, they mourn the loss of a
police officer, but not everyone here knew him. Many are here for Sandy Reid because
they are sad for you.” He could tell she didn’t realize the name she’d made for
herself. “You could run for office.”

“Nonsense. Of course, a few here are primarily my
friends and not Chip’s. Nevertheless, I think you’re stretching things. I
noticed Vicki Susane speaking to you and Martin. We exchanged a polite little
wave from across the room. I thought Martin was a bit coy when I asked about
his drink with her at his club that night. Considering he’s the best catch in
Florida it’s safe to assume she’s not here for me.”

“You just said you didn’t want all the obligatory
conversation.”

“You’re right, I hardly know her. Then she
brightened. “I did get a wonderful phone call this morning from my old friend,
Linda Call. You remember Linda?”

“I certainly do. Back when you first came to Park
Beach, her newspaper reporting and ceaseless attacks against State Attorney
Larry Moran helped shape the public’s negative attitude toward him. She moved
away long before the election, but I’ll always believe that indirectly she
helped me be elected. How is she?”

“Happy in Atlanta living with her significant other
yet misses Florida. Said she’d move back down in a heartbeat, if she could find
a job here. She just heard about the death or would have been down here today
in person.”

The service was beginning. Eddy Jaworski sat in
the first row, which quickly filled with friends and co-workers. Sandy sat
between Mel and Martin in the second row; it was more comfortable for her not
to be a front-row target who everyone felt compelled to engage.

In spite of that, she was momentarily bewildered
when near the end of the ceremony the Marine Honor Guard, who attended as the
customary military protocol to honor a former Marine officer, grandly presented
her with the folded American flag. She thanked them, turned and presented the
flag to the police chief who was equally surprised. She insisted that Chip
belonged to his law enforcement family. The chief accepted it for display in
Chip’s honor at the police station.

Indeed, she was the nearest thing to a relative at
the ceremony. His mother, and her side of the family, had disappeared and his
father had raised him. Sandy had always intended to talk to him about distant
relatives one day, but there didn’t seem to be any hurry to draw him out on the
subject.

Mel had located and notified an uncle in Virginia
who was Chip’s next of kin but too elderly to make the trip down. The uncle had
delivered by overnight express a marvelous collection of photographs of Chip as
a youth, in college and in the Marine Corp, for display at the ceremony. Sandy
later phoned and thanked him. He insisted that she keep the photos.

Eventually the mourners dispersed. All the
distressing formalities were over. Once again, she was standing alone with
Martin and Mel. They had their own dear memories of Chip. She wasn’t the only
one grieving in that small group. Standing with them there, sharing the grief,
took some of it away from her.

“How do you feel?” Mel asked her as they left.

“Empty.”

Martin said, “Hard to believe I’ll never see him
again, that no one will see him again.”

Never see him? She had to get used to that. She
closed her eyes against the thought and saw him clearly for an instant. Somehow
she would see his powerful presence as long as she lived.

A
s
time passed, the feelings of grief seemed to melt away. As the tension in her
body lessened, there was room to welcome back the pleasant urges and positive demands
of daily living and even an optimism Sandy hadn’t known for days. She would
still have her morning shower and cereal. She’d still have her takeout coffee
in the office. She’d still buzz by the beach with the top down on her
convertible. She was coming back.

She hadn’t experienced the dreadful choking
feeling or shortness of breath for some time. She had visited the office
occasionally during the last few days, but left almost immediately as she
realized it held no importance for her. On this day, however, she was eager to
get back in the routine of living. She wanted out of her apartment. She’d been
away too long.

Her primary desire was that Chip’s killer be found
and dealt with. Yet, she was helpless in pursuing justice in that regard. No
place for her in that pursuit. Jane, however, was a different situation. Jane
deserved payback and the four hundred grand absolutely must be recovered. Sandy
did not intend to be powerless when it came to Jane.

As she parked beside the office and started
unlocking the front door, she noticed a familiar man waiting in his dark brown
sedan at the curb. She recognized the jerk FBI agent who had interrogated her
regarding the extortion as though she were the guilty party rather than the
victim. The one who had correctly admonished her for not calling in the
authorities before paying the money.

He left his car and joined her on the step as she unlocked
the office. “I believe I’ve seen you some place before,” he said grinning.

“Never been there.”

“May I have a word with you?”

“As long as it’s goodbye.”

“I came to apologize. I was truly out of line that
first day I interviewed you. And I’m embarrassed.”

“You didn’t interview me, you interrogated me. An
interview is where you ask my opinion of the latest movie. An interrogation is
when you sit across the table in a little room scowling and treating me as though
I was the perp instead of the victim.” She sat at her desk and motioned for him
to sit opposite in the comfortable brown leather chair. Nice looking, she
thought. FBI agents do tend to stay in shape.

“That was the first I’d heard of you. I didn’t know
what Sandy Reid was all about. I feel guilty about coming on so strong. Even
so, I still believe you should have contacted us before paying the money.”

“You’re feeling guilty, now you pity me because I’ve
lost my boyfriend.”

“Okay, I feel pity for you. I’m sincerely sorry
for your loss. And I’m sorry I treated you harshly. I apologize.”

He appeared contrite and she’d been too rough. “Apology
accepted. Any progress to report?”

“Although I can’t discuss everything with you. We’ve
ID’d the body found near the equipment shed in Lagoon Park as a Calvin Boyd. We
believe he was the male partner of the pair who abducted you.”

“Well, you do work fast.”

“We spent some time interviewing possible
witnesses and processing the scene at the equipment shed and around the
footbridge. The female partner must have been disguised somehow, when she went
onto the bridge and picked up the money. We assume she got away on a bicycle.”

All that brought a smile to her lips. She didn’t feel
they had it right. “Well, that’s progress.” They sounded miles away and a month
behind, but who knows. Perhaps they had it and she didn’t.

He said, “I suppose you’re out following some
leads around here, although strange I haven’t run into you.”

“Not doing much lately.” If he wasn’t aware that
she’d been crisscrossing Palm Beach County that was fine. At least he wasn’t
following her. “The funeral and all, you know. Did you know him?”

“Met him a couple of times. I wish I’d known him
better. Quite a fellow, from what I’ve been hearing.”

“Quite a fellow,” she repeated stumbling upon the
words. “I get a sharp jab when I think about him.”

“The sharp jabs will stop. Of course, you’ll keep
thinking about him every day until one day you realize that yesterday you
didn’t think about him. The grief doesn’t end there, but it’s a start.”

That stopped her.

“What did you just say?”

He repeated his statement.

“You’ve been there, haven’t you?”

“My wife, three years ago.

“So your life was instantly turned upside down.
And your entire future totally changed.”

He nodded.

“Yes, I had started to dream,” she said softly. “I
felt I was moving into a future beyond anything I’d expected. Although I didn’t
appreciate it at the time.”

“Then your dream has died also. You have the right
to grieve about the loss of that dream, as well.”

“My grief isn’t constant. It seems to flow in and
out.” She leaned forward. “Was it that way with you?”

“And I’d get a choking feeling, where I couldn’t
get my breath.” They were now staring, waiting for the other to speak. “You
ever get the feeling that you’re waiting—”

She quickly finished the sentence for him, “—for
someone who’s never going to show up?”

“Exactly.”

“And you’re here telling me it will all pass,” she
said. “I am looking forward to getting busy again.”

“You should take a little break first. You ever
spend any time in the Palm Beaches? I know you’re not from Florida. I thought maybe
you’ve never been down there.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just thinking you’re due for a vacation.” He
shifted awkwardly in the chair. “I could meet you down there.”

Geez, was he going to ruin it all by coming on to
her? “Pardon me, but your badge is showing.”

“No, absolutely personal. And nothing heavy. I
live down there. I could show you around.”

“You and me?” He was on dangerous ground.

“Getting away from Park Beach and loosening up
down there would be good for you.”

“I’m still wearing black.”

“And you can keep wearing black as long as you
like, even in West Palm Beach.”

“What’s your first name...Conrad?”

“Connie, friends call me Connie.”

“Nice offer, Connie, but I wouldn’t want to
distract you from your work.”

“Too late to think about that.”

Somehow, the way he was talking didn’t sound intrusive
or inappropriate. Maybe he was being sincere, but his timing was lousy. “Bring
me back four hundred grand and we’ll talk.”

“Someone told me you are priceless.” He bounced
his eyebrows up and down like a comedian.

She laughed. This was all right. She relaxed. She
was coming back to life. “Honestly, I don’t believe I’ll be ready to socialize
for a while.”

“I’m going to give you my personal phone number.
Just stick it in a drawer somewhere.” He wrote the number on the back of his
FBI card and handed it to her. “My knees are getting weak.”

“Well, wobble out of here and get to work.” She
gave him a nice wave goodbye. He passed Martin coming in.

“I didn’t expect you in the office today, Sandy.
What did Mr. FBI want?”

“Offering condolences and more or less bringing us
up to date. I believe they’re way off. At the proper time, I want to brief them
on everything we’ve uncovered in West Palm. But for the time being, I don’t
want to be stepping over them down there.” It felt good sitting at her desk
again. She’d been away too long. “Being busy helps not thinking of how lost I
feel. I really must get back to work. I have the Belcorp suit going to trial on
the first. Our extortion trail has no doubt gone cold down there in West Palm.
We might have to start all over.”

“I believe you should wait,” he said. “Are you
sure you’re in the mood to do anything? The bad guys will wait until you feel better.”

“The bad guys are spending more of our money every
day. I can either get back to work or go batty.” She started straightening the
papers on her desk and picked up the pile of mail.

“Don’t worry about that mail. I’ve been all
through it. Nothing there that can’t wait. Someplace in there is a report
Jaworski brought over.”

“I can’t sit around and grieve all day. If I were
a painter, wouldn’t you encourage me to pick up my brushes? Hey, I’m ready to
roll.” She set the mail aside. “Thanks for going through all that. Where’s the
report from Jaworski? Oh, here it is.”

She read for a minute, then abruptly stopped and
held the report up for Martin to see. “You know what this is? Remember when we
first came across Tonya Rhodes? Jaworski checked her out and found she had a
record for manslaughter? Well, I asked if he could get her twenty-year-old
arrest record from Kentucky. Looks like he found it. Probably a waste of time.”

Martin sat in the oversized brown leather chair
across from her. She started reading aloud.

“Listen to this. Victim was Clyde Steward, that has
to be the boss she said tried to rape her. Eighteen-year-old
perpetrator...claimed self-defense. That sounds right. Cause of death...gunshot
wound to the head...wait...this has to be the wrong report. Tonya told me she
pushed him—he struck his head—an accident.”

She finished reading, dropped the report on her
desk and frowned at Martin with raised eyebrows. “She shot the guy in the head while
robbing him and got off with manslaughter. There was a witness.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Says here, the witness states suspect knocked the
victim to the ground and was searching through his pockets. When he fought
back, she put a gun to his head. She claimed he was trying to rape her, and she
was fighting for the gun to save her life. Tonya told me she pushed her boss in
his apartment while fighting to save her honor. Not so, she tried to rob some
guy and shot him in the head!”

“Now you’re thinking she’s Jane.”

“Well, it doesn’t make her Jane, but she certainly
suckered me. I bought her sad story about an eighteen-year-old fighting off a
wicked boss.”

“If she were Jane, wouldn’t she have tried to keep
her connection with Boyd hidden, instead of telling you he worked for Bristol
Trucking?”

“And more importantly, would she permit me to run
around West Palm asking questions? If Tonya were Jane, wouldn’t I be long-time
dead by now?

Her phone buzzed. So many people she scarcely knew
had been calling. Most, however, didn’t know her mobile number. She couldn’t
immediately place the familiar voice. “Who? Oh, Ryan Cramer, yes! How are you?
I hope you’re not still in jail. Hey, I’m sorry I haven’t been in to see you.
Something came up.”

“Sandy, nice to hear your voice. No, I’m fine. They
didn’t have any solid evidence against me. I’m still under arrest, but Angela
was able to get me a new hearing. I’m out on bail.”

“That's great. I’m glad you told me.”

“I called to say how sorry I am that you lost
your...very close friend. I just found out. Detective Dominic mentioned it to
me. I hope you’re all right.”

She thought back to the words she’d said to him in
his jail cell: ...your own life hasn’t been destroyed. This will pass. You’ll
get it all together again. You’ll move on. Eventually, there might be someone
new in your life. You’re too good to be passed up. So you’ve been beaten up pretty
badly. Nothing says you’re going to lose again.

“Well, thanks for your concern, Ryan. I hope
you’re doing okay.” She looked over at Martin and shrugged, wondering what the
call was all about. “Let me ask about your sister—Gail Cramer Holman. Right?”

Martin, who had been slumped in his desk chair,
sat up when he heard the name and leaned in to listen.

“My sister...what? You sure you want to talk about
this?”

“I’m getting back to work, Ryan.” She looked across
at Martin and grinned. “And she’s not married, right? I heard she works at the concierge
desk at the Gardens Mall. Now how in hell can she afford the Magnolia Palms
condo?”

Ryan answered, “I asked about that when she first
started talking about buying a condo. She said her claim against her husband’s
estate was finally settled, and she won a sizable settlement. Her husband died
in a boating accident and his family blamed her. I remember her husband was
quite wealthy, and she complained about his family cutting her out of his
estate. I thought it was ancient history. I didn’t realize there was any
lawsuit pending. She said it was so long ago she never expected anything from
it. I didn’t press the subject further. None of my business.”

“Ryan, was that lawsuit in Florida?”

“Well, they all lived in Florida.”

“Okay, think hard. Is there any other way Gail
could have obtained a large amount of money?”

“She doesn’t move in those kinds of circles. You
should see where she used to live.”

“I have seen where she used to live. She seeing
anyone?” Sandy thought she already knew the answer to that question.

“Not anymore. She broke up with some married guy. Myra
told me Gail was really excited about him for some time. I forget his name. Do
you really need to drag her into this?”

Sandy already knew the man’s name. The used car
dealer. She had his business card the comical neighbor had given her. “Would
the married guy have set up Gail in the condo apartment?”

“No way. I believe his wife has the money and he
plays at being in business,” Ryan said. “I’m staying with Gail. I’m there now.”

“Is she home?”

“No, but she’s not going to talk with you anyway.
She already told me.”

“I’m curious as to why she won’t talk with me.
Doesn’t she know I’m on your side?”

“She said that I’ve enough trouble without getting
my affairs mixed up with some murder in Park Beach.”

Sandy’s stomach instantly turned into one large
throbbing glob. She couldn’t believe what she just heard. She started speaking
rapidly, “Who mentioned Park Beach? Did
she
mention Park Beach?”