Just Take My Heart (25 page)

Detective Billy Tryon returned to the courthouse at eight thirty on Monday evening to drop off some of the physical evidence from the Kirk homicide. He had stayed at the crime scene from the beginning and went back and forth among the three houses, supervising the collection of evidence. Most of his time was spent in the Kirk home and garage.

After he spoke to Emily in Lanning's kitchen, he did not want to encounter her again. When she left around six, he asked Jake Rosen where she was going. Jake told him that Emily only said she had to get out for awhile.

Billy was pretty sure she had gone to the office. His cousin Ted had told him that after Easton's outburst in court, Emily had informed him she was going to retrace every step in the case.

Ted heatedly told Billy that he had been a half inch away from forbidding her to spend any more time on it, but was afraid she might end up signing an ethics complaint against him. "If she did that, I can assure you that I won't be the next attorney general," he had railed.

From his vantage point in the Kirk house, Billy waited to see when Emily would come back. She returned about seven thirty and he saw her talking to Jake Rosen in the driveway again. He didn't like the way they always seemed so cozy. Then he watched as Jake lugged two heavy-looking duffle bags into her house.

When Jake came back out, Billy called him over. "What was in those bags?" he demanded.

"Emily is going to take a couple of days off and she wanted to bring some files home to work on. Why would that bother you?"

"I just don't like her attitude about anything," Tryon snapped. "All right. I'm out of here. I'm going to take the evidence bags back to the office, then go home."

On the drive back to the courthouse, Billy Tryon was in a rage. She's trying to undo that verdict and she's trying to blame me. I'm not going to let that happen.

She's not going to destroy me.

And she's not going to destroy Ted.

After he spoke to Belle Garcia, Michael Gordon couldn't dial Richard Moore's number fast enough.

"Hi, Mike." Moore sounded upbeat. "I saw you at the courthouse today, but I never got a chance to talk to you. As soon as Easton's sentence was done, I raced over to the jail to tell Gregg what happened. He needed to hear something positive, and I think for the first time since the verdict he has some semblance of hope."

"Well, he may have a lot more soon," Mike said emphatically. "That's why I'm calling you now. I just got off the phone with a woman who gave me information about Easton. If she's telling the truth, it will blow this case apart."

When he relayed the contents of his conversation with Belle Gar-cia, Richard's reaction was exactly what he had expected.

"Mike, if this woman is credible, and if she's got a receipt and a telephone book, I think I can get Gregg out on bail while it's investigated further." Richard's voice became increasingly animated. "And if all this is true, I don't think he'll just get a new trial. I don't believe Emily Wallace would seek to try this again. I think she would move before Judge Stevens to vacate the verdict and dismiss the indictment."

"That's the way I see it," Mike agreed. "These people will be here in a little while. We'll know very soon where we're going with this. If they have what they claim they have, I'm putting them on Courtside tonight, and I'd like you to be on with them."

"Mike, I'd be glad to, but I have to tell you that I have very mixed feelings towards these people. I don't know if I can be civil to them. Of course, I'm ecstatic for Gregg if this pans out. On the other hand, I am outraged that this guy would sit on this information because he might have to pay some back taxes. It's a disgrace and that's the kind-est word I can think of."

"Look, Richard, I completely understand how you feel. They should have come forward sooner and I am sure you will say that tonight. But if you come on the program and just attack them, it's not going to help Gregg. And the last thing you want to do is scare off anybody else out there who's also been afraid to speak up for whatever reason."

"I hear what you're saying. I won't attack them, Mike," Richard answered. "Maybe I'll even kiss them. But I still think it's a disgrace."

"It's an even bigger disgrace if Jimmy Easton was coached by someone to tell that story," Mike reminded him.

"Emily Wallace would never do that," Moore insisted.

"I didn't say she personally did, but look at it this way: When all this comes out, won't they want to file perjury charges against Easton?"

"I'm sure they will."

"Richard, trust me, if someone in the prosecutor's office or some police officer fed him information to bolster his testimony, he'll turn that person in. Then he'll swear that he was threatened with the maximum sentence on his burglary if he didn't agree to lie on the witness stand."

"That I can't wait to see," Moore said vehemently.

"I'll call you back after I talk to the Garcia couple. God, I hope this is the answer."

*

At ten minutes of seven, Belle and Sal Garcia arrived at Michael's office. For the next half hour, with a young associate producer sitting in as a witness, he listened to their story.

"It was a heavy marble standing lamp," Sal explained, nervously. "A guy who had a little antique repair shop on Eighty-sixth Street used to have me make deliveries for him. Jimmy Easton was working for me that day. We carried the lamp up together.

"The housekeeper told us to put it in the living room. Then the phone rang. She asked us to wait a minute and went into the kitchen to answer it. I told Jimmy to wait for her to sign the receipt. I remember I didn't want to get a ticket for being double-parked. So I left him alone in the living room. I don't know how long he was in there by himself. Then I got a call last week from my friend Rudy Sling."

Rudy Sling, Mike thought. His wife Reeney is the one who phoned to say she could tell us where Jimmy worked.

"Rudy reminded me that when I moved him up to Yonkers, Eas-ton was on the job, and Rudy's wife, Reeney, caught him going through the dresser drawers. So my guess is that Jimmy may have opened that squeaky drawer looking for anything he could steal while I was on my way to the truck and the housekeeper was in the kitchen on the phone." Sal swallowed nervously and reached for the glass of water Liz had brought in for him.

Reeney Sling and her husband are coming in tomorrow morning, Mike thought. They can back up this story. All the pieces fit. As the welcome information kept sinking in, Mike had the incongru-ous thought that now Gregg and he could play handball again at the Athletic Club.

Sal gulped the entire glass of water and sighed. "I guess that's it, Mike. Now you know as much as I do about that delivery, except I dug out some receipts for other jobs I did for that antique repair place, to show you that this one isn't a phony."

Mike examined the delivery receipt with the housekeeper's signature, and the pocket phone book with Jimmy Easton's name scrawled in it. Then he glanced at the dozen other receipts Sal had brought him.

It's all here, he thought. It's all here. Barely able to maintain his professional reserve, he told them that he wanted them to appear on Courtside tonight.

"That would be fine," Belle agreed. "Sal, it's a good thing I made you wear your good suit and tie, and Mama told me to wear this out-fit!"

Sal shook his head vehemently. "No. Absolutely not. Belle, you convinced me to come here and I did but I don't want to go on that show and have everybody hating me. Forget it. I'm not going!"

"Yes, you are, Sal," Belle said firmly. "You're no different than lots of other people who would have been afraid of getting into trouble by telling the truth. In fact, you're a good example to them. You made a big mistake and now you are correcting it. I made a big mistake, too. I've been sure for over a week that Jimmy Easton worked for you and I should have gone through those boxes sooner. That trial would have ended before Gregg Aldrich had to listen to that guilt)' verdict if both you and I had done the right thing. Most people will at least try to understand. And I'm going on the show whether you do or not."

"Mr. Garcia," Mike said, "I hope you will reconsider. You were in the Aldrich living room with Easton on exactly the same date that he testified under oath that he met there with Gregg Aldrich to plan the murder of his wife. It is vital that people hear that directly from you.

Sal looked at Belle's worried but determined expression and the tears she was trying to blink back. She was scared to death. They were sitting side by side on the couch in Mike's office. He put his arm around her. "If you can stand the heat you'll get, I can, too," he said, tenderly. "I'm not going to let you go on alone."

"That's great," Mike exclaimed, jumping up to shake their hands. "I'm sure you haven't had dinner yet. I'll have my secretary bring you to the conference room and she'll order some food in for you."

After they left his office, he called Richard Moore. "Come on in as fast as you can get here," he said, enthusiastically. "Richard, these people are telling the truth. The delivery receipt is signed by Gregg's housekeeper, the one who died. I don't mind telling you I'm about to cry."

"Me, too, Mike, me, too." Richard Moore's voice also had a catch in it. "You know something? I just started believing in miracles again. I'll leave in a couple of minutes. It shouldn't take more than an hour to get into the city. I'll be there well before nine." Then his voice broke. "First, I'll send Cole to the jail to tell Gregg what's going on. And I'll call Alice and Katie."

"I only wish I could be there with them when they hear this," Mike said, thinking back to that awful moment in court when the word "guilty" had been repeated twelve times.

"I'm going to make one other important call," Richard said, his tone now quietly firm.

"Emily Wallace. And you know what, Mike? I don't think that she's going to be surprised."

Zach turned off the television after the segment about him was finished. Seeing the composite again that was so similar to the way he looked now terrified him. He knew it was too dangerous to stay here another minute. He'd noticed that the clerk had a little TV in his office, and it was obvious that he was not all that busy. If he was still there at six o'clock, he could easily have been watching that channel. Or maybe he was at home, sitting in front of his television. Either way, if he saw the composite again, even his slow brain might start working.

The van was in the complimentary parking area next to the lodge. Luckily, the clerk had not asked him for the license plate when he had checked in. If the police ever came here looking for him, somebody might be able to tell them the make and color of the van, but he doubted that anyone would remember the license plate number.

Frantically weighing his options, Zach decided to pull down the shades, turn on some lights, and leave. At least until tomorrow, that would give the impression that he was still here.

Immensely frustrated, he knew that if the clerk hadn't noticed him, this cabin might have been relatively safe for at least a few weeks. It was better to get down to North Carolina, find a place to stay, and then drive back up to Glen Rock to take care of Emily in a few months, when the heat was off.

But then something told him again that his luck was running out. Wherever he went, he knew that at any moment there could be a police car behind him, with flashing lights and siren blaring, forcing him to the side of the road.

He thought back to Charlotte divorcing him, and getting a judge to decide she should get his house. He thought of Lou and Wilma, and how good he had been to both of them, and yet both of them had left him.

By now Emily must know he had been spying on her and going through her house. He hoped she understood the reason that he had left the intercom system in his kitchen: It was his message to her that he would be back.

He could imagine what was happening there now. Emily's sure to have a guard outside, in case I come back looking for her. But who's to say that I won't find her someplace else? And who's to say I can't sneak back into the neighborhood again?

Zach had not unpacked a single thing from the van. Now as he got into it, having decided that he would drive through northern New Jersey to the New York Thruway and find a motel in one of those sleepy hamlets on the way to Albany, he had a thought that pleased him.

He had taken Emily's fancy nightgown with him last week. It was obvious she'd never worn it. She should wear it, Zach thought. Maybe it would be nice to tuck it around her after she's dead.

Emily pulled down the shades in her kitchen and put on water to boil for pasta. Energy food, she told herself. That's what I need. Bless Gladys for trying to make sure that I don't starve. Her cleaning woman sometimes brought in containers of her homemade pasta sauce or chicken soup and left them frozen in the refrigerator. Now the pasta sauce was defrosting in the microwave oven.

While it was cooking, Emily made a salad and set it on a tray to take into the living room. Tonight was not the night to start on the Aldrich files, she decided. Her nerves were simply too raw. Yesterday afternoon I walked past Madeline Kirk's house and thought how I didn't want to end up a recluse like her. While I was thinking that, she was wrapped in plastic bags in the trunk of her car.

The pleasant autumn day had turned into a sharply cold night. She had changed into pajamas and a robe and turned up the heat, but even so could not get warm. What did Nana used to say? Emily asked herself. I know: "I'm chilled to the bone." I think after all these years I finally know what she meant.

Bess was asleep now on a pillow on the kitchen floor. As she took warm Italian bread from the oven and poured herself a glass of wine, Emily kept glancing at the dog for reassurance that she was still there. If that guy Zach tries to come back, Bess will warn me, she thought. She'll bark her head off. But of course the police officer is outside guarding the house. My own private bodyguard, she thought. Just what I needed.

Then she wondered if Bess might actually be glad to see Zach. She'd probably think he was there to take her for a walk. He even took care of her while I visited Dad and then Jack. My helpful neighbor. Emily shivered at the memory of coming home and finding Zach sitting in near darkness on the porch with Bess on his lap. I was lucky he didn't kill me that night, she thought.

The comforting aroma of the marinara sauce filled the kitchen and the spaghetti was ready. Emily dumped the spaghetti in a strainer, transferred a portion of it into a bowl, took the sauce out of the microwave, and spooned it over the pasta.

She carried the tray into the living room, placed it on the wide tray table in front of her favorite chair, and sat down. Bess, hearing her move, woke up, trotted into the living room, and settled beside her. It was quarter of eight. I'll find something worth watching until Courtside comes on, Emily thought. There's bound to be a panel discussion about Jimmy Easton's outburst. After that, I'm sure the news will have plenty of coverage about Zach Lanning.

Jimmy Easton and Zach Lanning. A great combination for my viewing pleasure, she thought as she began to twirl the spaghetti onto her fork. Michael Gordon was in the courtroom today. I'm sure he'll show a clip of Easton's speech. "I did what I was supposed to do." How much of Easton's testimony had been fed to him?

From where she was sitting she could see the duffle bags with the Aldrich files stacked against the wall in the dining room. Tomorrow morning, early, I'll start on them, she decided.

The phone rang. For a moment Emily was tempted to let the answering machine pick it up, but then she realized it might be her father. He's bound to hear about Madeline Kirk and be worrying about me.

But the caller was Richard Moore, not her father. "Emily, I heard about that serial killer and that he murdered your neighbor, but Cole just told me he was also stalking you. I'm so sorry. You've got to be pretty rattled about that."

"That's a good way of putting it, Richard, and yes, I am. There's a cop on guard full time at the house."

"I would hope so. Emily, you'd better watch Courtside tonight."

"I was planning to watch it. I'm sure it's all about my witness, Jimmy Easton."

"It is all about him, Emily, but there's a lot more than what happened in court. Mike has a guy coming on the show who has proof that Jimmy made a delivery to Gregg's apartment the very day he swore he got the ransom money."

For a long minute Emily simply could not speak. Then she said quietly, "If that's the case, I want those people in my office tomorrow morning. I want to see that proof and if it's legitimate, Gregg Aldrich will get out on bail, then we'll take it from there."

"That's what I expected you to say, Emily."

A little more than an hour later, her dinner barely touched, her arm around Bess, Emily watched Courtside. When it was over, she went into the dining room, turned on the light, and pulled the first batch of files from the duffle bag.

She did not go to bed at all that night.