Almost Dead (15 page)

CHAPTER 34

The lady with the missing pug—Jacque Victoria Mason—was a pain in the ass. While Tommy worked on installing a video camera in the entryway, Kitally tried to keep Jacque Mason busy. The woman preferred to be addressed by her full name, but that was too bad.

She was a talker. She was also nervous and fidgety and couldn’t hold still for more than a few minutes at a time. Her pug, Gracie, had been missing for almost a week now, but the good news was that less than forty-five minutes ago, Jacque had gotten a call from a man who said he just saw her sign and he happened to have her dog.

That didn’t give Kitally much time to prepare. She should have waited until after Tommy installed the camera before she hung up the reward signs.

Too late now. You live and you learn.

“Where is he? Why hasn’t he brought back my Gracie?” the woman asked for the third time in five minutes.

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Kitally said.

No sooner had the phone rang than Jacque took off, running as fast as her eighty-year-old legs would take her, which was impressive considering she used a cane and walked with a limp. None of that stopped the elderly woman from picking up the phone before it could ring a second time.

“Oh, hello, dear. I was hoping it was Gracie’s dognapper calling again. Yes, I’ll let you know as soon as Gracie is back home.” She hung up. Her shoulders sagged.

Kitally and Tommy exchanged pitiful looks.

“That should do it,” Tommy said as he stepped down from the stool. “The camera also has a voice recorder,” he told Jacque.

He was about to open the door, but Kitally stopped him. “Duck!” she told him. “I see someone coming now.”

Jacque lunged for the doorknob.

“Don’t open the door,” Kitally said. “We need him to come all the way up to the door.”

Tommy placed his hands on Jacque’s frail shoulders. “Try to hold the door as wide-open as possible to make sure we get a good shot of the guy.”

Jacque looked at the landscape painting in the entryway. “Are you sure this is going to work? I can’t see the camera.”

“That’s the idea,” Kitally told her. “The camera is tiny for a reason. We don’t want this guy to know we’re onto him. Tommy, is everything ready?”

“We’re good to go,” he said.

“There isn’t enough time for us to hide outside,” Kitally explained. “Is there a back room where we can hide?”

Jacque led them to the hallway and then pointed to the back room to the left.

A knock on the door caused her to jump.

“Stay calm and everything will be fine,” Kitally told her.

“Don’t forget to open the door wide,” Tommy said as she walked off.

Tommy had downloaded an application that made it possible to watch the scene from his phone. They watched Jacque put her cane to the side so she could open the door. She opened it wide and left it that way.

“She’s doing good so far,” Tommy whispered.

“Gracie,” Jacque cried as she reached for her dog.

The pug tried to wiggle out of the man’s arms, but he wouldn’t let Gracie go.

“Give her the dog,” Kitally said under her breath. “Why isn’t he giving the old lady her dog?”

“Shh, let’s just watch.”

“Where’s my money?”

Jacque handed the man one hundred dollars, just as they had rehearsed.

He grabbed it and stuffed the bills into his front pocket, but he still wouldn’t hand over the dog. “I want you to know that I had to take a day off work so that I could take your dog to the vet. It cost me five hundred dollars. I also had to feed him. I’d appreciate it if you would reimburse me for all costs.”

“That’s a lot of money.”

“Sorry, lady. No money, no dog.”

“Do you have receipts?”

He used his free hand to pat his back pockets. “Nope, didn’t think to bring them.”

“Oh, my, let me get my purse. I’ll write you a check.”

Before Jacque could walk off, he stopped her. “I’m having problems with my bank. Cash would be better.”

“Let me see what I can do.” Jacque hurried back to the room where Tommy and Kitally were hiding. “He wants more money.”

“What are you going to do?” Kitally asked.

“I’m going to have to pull some cash out of my hiding place. You two go into the bathroom for a moment.”

As soon as she was done rummaging through her closet, she gave them permission to come out of the bathroom.

Kitally stuck her head out the door and watched Jacque make her way back to the front door. “The poor woman is being taken. What if nobody is able to ID the guy from the video? We can’t let him get away with—where are you going?”

Tommy was at the door. “I’ll slip out back and circle around, follow him when he leaves.”

“I’ll keep your phone,” Kitally said, “so I can keep an eye on Jacque.”

A few seconds after Tommy disappeared, Kitally got an idea. She grabbed her phone, found the number of the guy who lived in the neighborhood, the guy who wanted to know if Kitally ever found the dognapper.

She held one phone to her ear while she watched Jacque in real time on Tommy’s phone. Jacque handed over another four hundred dollars, but the dognapper still wasn’t satisfied.

David Downing answered on the third ring. Kitally quickly explained what was going on. “If you want to talk to this guy, he’s at 411 Ashley Court, just down the block from the telephone pole—”

“Hell yeah! I’m just around the freaking corner! I’m there.” He clicked off.

“I meant five hundred additional dollars,” Kitally heard the man say to Jacque as he shoved another wad of cash into his pocket.

“That’s highway robbery, young man. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Listen, lady, give me all the money you have, or you’re never going to see your dog again.” He squeezed the pug hard. The dog yipped.

When she reached for her dog, he took a backward step. “How many times do I gotta tell you? No money. No dog. Do you have Alzheimer’s or somethin’?”

Jacque grabbed her cane, stepped outside, and whacked him hard across the knees.

He cursed but held tight to the dog.

She hit him again, this time in the shoulder and then below the belt, careful not to hurt Gracie.

The dognapper dropped to his knees.

Gracie wriggled out of her captor’s arms and ran inside the house. Jacque stepped inside just as Kitally ran past her—but Kitally was too late.

The dognapper was limping away and never saw what hit him until he was on the ground.

David Downing was fast, and he was on top of him. It got ugly in a hurry. Kitally and Tommy didn’t really get to enjoy the moment before they had to wade in and drag the guy off him. No sense in giving the cops two arrests to make.

When they had David under control, Kitally handed Tommy his phone and had just pulled out hers to call the police when she heard Jacque already on the line with them just inside the house.

Only then, with the dognapper moaning at their feet, were Kitally and Tommy able to relax enough to share a grin and a high five.

“Another case solved,” Kitally said.

Tommy laughed. “You really do have a knack for this investigative business, don’t you?”

“I don’t know about that,” Kitally said, unable to get the smile off her face. “But I actually look forward to waking up each day.” Just inside the door, Jacque’s fat little pug was happily leaning up against her leg as she finished her call with the police. “That’s job satisfaction, right there. Jacque Mason has her dog back.”

“Twenty minutes ago, you thought she was a pain in the ass.”

“I still think Jacque Victoria Mason
is
a pain in the ass. But she has her dog back, and that’s all that matters. God, I love it.”

“Love what?”

“The whole thing. The thrill of cracking a case—following clues, searching for the truth. It’s a high that can’t be beat.”

“It’s also dangerous. Lizzy and Jared are proof of that.”

She heard sirens in the distance. “Sadly, I think that’s part of the appeal.”

“All you girls are so different and yet so much alike at the same time.”

“Yeah, we’re sort of a crazy family now.”

“I guess you are. You’re all living together. How’s that working out?”

“It’s horrible,” she said with a laugh. “You know, people trying to poison us, stalkers in the backyard—your average family. We each have our own bathroom, so it works.”

“I’m glad.”

“In case you didn’t know, you’re part of the family, too.”

Before Tommy could respond, the police car pulled up, red lights swirling.

CHAPTER 35

As Jenny walked down the narrow hallway to her office, she didn’t bother straightening the picture frames. She sat at her desk and pulled out the list.

Brandon Louis – stabbed

Terri Kramer—Food poisoning

Stephen White—Explosion

Debi Murray—Car accident/brakes

Gavin Murdock—Heart attack/antifreeze

Rachel Elliott—Running accident

Melony Reed—Kitchen accident

Ron Jennings—Car accident

Louise Penderfor—Moved

Mindy Graft

Aubrey Singleton

Claire Moss—Moved

Chelsea Webster

Dean Newman—Suicide

Gary Perdue

Four more people to take care of. How am I going to get rid of them?

A fall down the stairway. Poison. Drowning. Electrical mishap. Contaminated well water. Suffocation. Choking. Carbon monoxide poisoning.

OK, OK. That’s enough.
Her mind was muddled. She couldn’t stop thinking about Dwayne. Tomorrow night she would be going on her first real date—dinner and a movie. She’d never been to a movie with a man. What would she wear? What would they talk about?

Try doing a search on the guy, why don’t you? Something you should have done when you met Brandon.

Not a bad idea. She typed
Dwayne Roth
into her search engine and hit the Return key. A picture of him, and in a minute she had enough for a short bio. He attended McClatchy High School and then went on to receive top honors at UCLA. Like her, he was a senior research chemist. He didn’t have a Facebook page. She couldn’t find anything about family or friends, but so far, so good. They had a lot in common—grew up in the same area, worked in the same field. She hit the Back button and ended up on the website for Lizzy Gardner Investigations.

Lizzy Gardner. What was she trying to prove?

She’d tried to talk to the woman, but she wouldn’t listen. She wondered if the cookies she’d delivered had proved useful. She didn’t dare risk a drive-by, so she decided to make a quick call and see who picked up.

The phone rang three times before she heard, “Lizzy Gardner Investigations. Can I help you?”

“Yes. I would like to speak with Lizzy Gardner, please.”

“Can I tell her who’s calling?”

The person who had answered sounded calm, even relaxed. Maybe they weren’t ready for word to get out that Lizzy and her friends were in the hospital or, better yet, dead. Jenny exhaled and said, “Tell her it’s a friend calling about the Melony Reed case.”

“Just a moment.”

A little charade, pretending Lizzy was in any condition to take the call. Maybe they were trying to trace it. Let them try. Jenny brushed her fingers over her list. Impatient, she scribbled Lizzy’s name on the bottom and prepared to draw a line through it.

“This is Lizzy Gardner. How can I help you?”

It couldn’t be.

“Who is this?”

Silence.

“I sent one of the cookies to the lab,” Lizzy said. “I should have the results in a few weeks.”

“How did you know?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Very shrewd of you.”

“It’s obvious you have a knack for toxicology.”

“Obvious? How so?”

“People from your high school are suddenly dying from heart attacks at a young age and punji sticks dipped in a toxic substance.”

“I don’t believe that has been substantiated.”

“Maybe not, but that’s the reason I didn’t think it was a good idea to eat homemade cookies baked by a stranger and delivered by a neighbor nobody has met before.”

“
Somebody
must have eaten a cookie. They were delicious.”

“I’m sure they were divine, but we try to stay away from food that has been contaminated,” Lizzy said. “Oh, and I’m sorry I had to leave you hanging on the phone the other day. This dark shadow of a man has been watching me, and I felt the urge to give chase.”

“Is that so?”

“Sadly, it’s the truth.”

“You didn’t catch him?”

“Not yet.”

“You
are
popular with the more malevolent crowd, aren’t you?”

“So it seems.”

“What’s so special about you, I wonder?”

“Hmm, I don’t know if
special
would be the word I would use,” Lizzy said. “
Luckless
maybe?
Unfortunate
perhaps?”

“You’re an interesting individual.”

Lizzy didn’t respond. For a few seconds neither said a word, and Jenny sensed that they were both perfectly comfortable in the shared silence.

“There are four more people on your list,” Lizzy finally said.

“You
have
done your homework.”

“I think you should turn yourself in.”

“I did nothing wrong,” Jenny answered, feeling a tight pull in her chest. “I was abused every day for four years. All I wanted was to be left alone. I did everything I could to be invisible to those people, but nothing I did mattered. They had it out for me. I was pushed and shoved, pinched and pulled. I was blindfolded, taken for a ride, and left alone, miles away from my home, in the dead of night. And that was just the beginning. I was also raped and then held down for his friends. I was humiliated, battered, insulted in every way possible. Each and every one of those animals deserves the death penalty.”

“There is a criminal justice system in place to impose penalties for those who break the law.”

“Don’t make me laugh. You know as well as I do that sometimes people need to take the law into their own hands if they want any justice in this world. I went to the principal. I talked to my teachers. They did nothing. Nobody cared.”

“So why now?”

“Why not?”

“After all these years,” Lizzy said, “something must have triggered your deep-seated resentment.”

“Oh, listen to you,” Jenny said. “Well, I know some things, too. Like that you’ve been seeing a therapist for years. Sounds like she’s rubbed off on you.”

“Want me to give you her phone number? I’m sure she could help you.”

“No, thanks,” Jenny said. “The
trigger
, as you called it, was a man—the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“Is he still alive?”

“I have no idea,” she lied. “He was a pig. Who cares?”

“I’m going to warn the four people still left on your list that they’re in danger.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“We all have choices.”

“And that includes you,” Lizzy said.

“I’ve made mine.”

“Are you talking to me from your home phone?”

“Afraid not,” Jenny answered. “I purchased some of those throwaways. Convenient, really.”

“I would say so. I guess I won’t be able to call you when I need someone to talk to?”

Jenny laughed. “I’ll call you again, but it looks like I have a lot of work ahead of me now that I have a deadline.”

“Who’s next on your list?” Lizzy asked.

“You sound suddenly anxious. Does it bother you to know that you might have just shortened their lives by a few days?”

“Don’t do this. I know they were wrong in what they did to you. But what you’re doing isn’t right.”

“I’m glad we had this talk, Lizzy.”

“Please don’t hurt anyone—”

You never should have called her. She’s not going to give up. Lizzy Gardner always gets her man.

Yeah, that’s the problem. She’s dealing with a woman this time. Not just any woman, either. You’re forgetting who I am—I’m Jenny Pickett.