Killerfind (9 page)

eremy
eased the red
powerhouse into an alley and along a private rear circle drive. When he held up
and aimed a remote opener, a wrought iron gate swung out noiselessly. Nestled
under towering cottonwood trees behind the main residence sat a second house, a
charming brick, gambrel-roofed structure with double garage doors and a massive
wood entry door that took up the entire front. At the edge of the yard stood a
majestic oak tree, one of the largest Rhetta had ever seen. She heard a gaggle
of voices, laughter and water splashing from somewhere past the humongous
flower garden that lay between where they were, and where she supposed the pool
area was.

Stopping at the garage, Jeremy spoke into a
voice-activated garage door opener, and one of the large wooden garage doors
creaked upward.

“This used to be the stables, years ago. Then it
became a garage sometime in the 1930’s.” Jeremy began a commentary as they sat
in the idling Mustang waiting for the heavy doors to creep upward. “While it
was a stable, there was a blacksmith shop, right over there near that oak
tree.” He nodded toward the tree Rhetta had just admired.

While driving the circle drive looking for a place
to park, Rhetta had noticed a large attached garage that had been a tasteful
addition to the main house in front. “So, this is a second garage?”

“In a sense, yes.” He beamed at her again. “But I
also live in the apartment upstairs.”

Ricky hasn’t told me any of this.
She realized
that she’d never asked many questions about Jeremy because she didn’t care for
him.
Wonder if Ricky had picked up on that and that’s why she didn’t rave
too much about him?
She’d find Ricky and ask her all about him. Now that
she thought about it, she wondered why Jeremy wasn’t with Ricky. Where had he
been? When he began to ease the car forward, she said, “Can you just let me out
here?”

“I thought you might want to see how nicely the
carriage house turned out. Ricky said you remodeled your farmhouse, so I
thought you might want a tour.” He sounded disappointed because Rhetta wanted
out of the car. She didn’t know why he wanted to show her his apartment when she
barely knew him.

Tour? What makes him think I want
a tour?
“All
right. That would be nice.”
No, it wouldn’t.
She had to admit she was
curious. Okay, nosy.

Inside the garage, the floors were painted a
gleaming grey, with not a speck of dirt anywhere. In the other parking space
rested a Chevy four-wheel-drive dually, also spotless. The driver’s door bore a
green oval with three black letters, JSP. His work truck, she guessed.
Pretty
sweet work truck
. It didn’t look like it had ever worked a day in its waxed
and polished life. The maroon paint gleamed like new.

He motioned toward the stairs at the back of the
garage. “After you.”

She climbed the new wooden staircase, and waited at
the top of the stairs as Jeremy eased past her with keys in hand. There wasn’t
much room on the three foot-square landing. When he reached around her, his arm
draped casually over her shoulder. She flinched. Was he flirting with her? She
needed to make a quick exit. Maybe she was over-reacting. She took a deep
breath to calm herself.

The door opened, and in spite of being uneasy with
Jeremy, she was in awe of the gorgeous interior. She stepped in as he waited
for her to enter ahead of him, and took in the luxurious apartment. The
gleaming kitchen space sparkled with new, brushed stainless steel appliances
tucked into custom cherry wood cabinetry and granite countertops. Two chocolate
brown leather couches formed an L around a glass top table in front of a rock
fireplace. The air inside the loft was pleasantly cool. Soft lighting glowed
from a back room, which she assumed was the bedroom area.

He must have noticed her looking in that direction.
“Come, let me show you the master suite.” He began walking toward the bedroom.

When she didn’t follow he walked back to her and
took her hand as though it the most natural thing in the world. She pulled back
as though singed with a red-hot fireplace poker. “What do you think you’re
doing?” 

“I know you want this as much as I do, Rhetta. Come
on.”

She whirled around and seized the doorknob, but it
wouldn’t turn. It was locked. “Let me out of here,” she said, spinning back to
him, her temper flaring. He’d come up silently behind her, and stood inches
from her face. He reached out and seized her shoulders pulling her to him.
“Stop it. Right now.” She reached up and pushed against his chest.

Instead of stopping, he leaned in against her. She
pushed again, but he was solidly built, and didn’t move. She turned her face
away.

Anger boiled over inside of her and she gritted her
teeth. “Don’t make me hurt you. Open the damn door.” He threw his head back and
laughed. She seized the opportunity and brought her knee up squarely in his
groin.

His blue eyes widened in surprise as he slumped
over, clutching his injury. She held her hand out. “Give me the key, Jeremy.”

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the key.
“Bitch,” he groaned, as he handed it to her. “You’ll pay for this.”

She snatched it, and unlocked the door. “Thanks for
the ride.” She tossed the key at him and smiled as it bounced off his face. She
slammed the door and bolted down the stairs.

t the
foot of
the stairway
down to the garage, Rhetta paused to catch her breath. The air there wasn’t
nearly as cool as the upstairs apartment. She began to feel her hair dampen
from the humidity. Although sweat broke out across her forehead, she felt
chilled. The encounter with Jeremy combined with the odor of car tires and warm
engine made her stomach queasy. Still aggravated, she jerked open the Mustang’s
passenger door and reached in the back to retrieve the tote bag containing the
wine, along with her purse. As she did, she spotted a thick unmarked manila
folder. Glancing up the stairs, making sure that Jeremy hadn’t followed her,
she picked it up and opened it.

She skimmed through the contents, mostly Excel
spreadsheets, which she figured contained mundane accounting information on the
subdivision development and started to put it back. Nothing on the sheets
identified exactly what the figures represented. After another glance up toward
Jeremy’s door, she decided to scrutinize a couple of pages. As she scanned down
the first sheet, she noted entries marked
“California,”
with large sums
next to each entry. Deposits? On the next sheet were listed expenses for dirt
moving, concrete, and building materials. She recognized the debit entries to
the local building supply companies. The bottom line showed a modest balance,
less than $50,000.00.

She flipped to the back page, which was blank, but
had a stack of unsigned lien waivers clipped to it. She thumbed through them.
Underneath those was a huge stack of unpaid invoices from the same companies
that were marked
“paid”
on the previous page. The last page was another
spreadsheet, listing all the unpaid bills.

She was looking at a set of duplicate reports. The
top sheets must’ve been the ones he showed everyone, while the bottom one
painted the true picture. And it didn’t look good. The unpaid invoices meant
that Jeremy had to be skimming money from his investors, if the deposits were
accurate. The
“paid”
column amounts on the first set of papers matched
the invoices, but on the bottom of the stack, those invoices were stamped
Past
Due
. She replaced the folder on the seat where she found it and looked over
her shoulder. He still hadn’t followed her down the stairs. Heart thudding at
her discovery, she grabbed her belongings and sprinted for the door.

Once outside the garage the enormity of everything
she’d seen and just been through assaulted her stomach and she winced in pain.
Not only was Jeremy bent on fooling around with other women, he was cheating
his investors, too. He probably couldn’t be loyal to anyone. He was no better
than pond scum. She leaned against the garage and massaged her abdomen. Acid
reflux kicked into overdrive. She fished around in an inner compartment in her
purse for her little green pills. Tearing open the foil, she swallowed two
without water. She picked her way through the yard until she located a
flagstone walkway edged in a colorful abundance of zinnias, begonias and
marigolds that led toward the main house. She trudged along the walk, wondering
what she should say, if anything, to Ricky about what she’d seen, and about
what Jeremy had done.

She needed to find Ricky and talk with her, and
determine how serious Ricky felt about this jerk before she’d tell her
anything. If Ricky and Jeremy weren’t “in a relationship,” she’d say nothing of
his unwanted advances to her. If Ricky was all gaga over this creep, she’d have
to find a way to tell her how sleazy he was. Her heartburn increased.

As to the folder, she decided she’d ask Randolph’s
advice before telling anyone anything.

*
* *

Reaching
the end of the walk, she encountered a tall wooden fence with an ornately
trimmed gate at one end. Finding the gate unlocked, she pushed it open and
discovered she was poolside among a throng of swimsuit-clad guests. Busy
chatting and drinking, they ignored her as she edged past them and around the
pool. Someone dove in and splashed her as she passed. A burst of laughter
followed and she waved. No harm. The water felt good. She ducked under an arbor
and entered a gazebo where there were more guests. These folks were somewhat
less scantily clad. And from the size and shape of them, it was probably just
as well.

So far, she hadn’t seen anyone she knew personally.
As she’d made her way around the pool, she thought she recognized some other
bankers from the “big box” banks, but she couldn’t be sure. They may have
looked different to her since she had never seen any of them without their
clothes before. The only time she saw most of them was at the Chamber of
Commerce meetings, where they almost always dressed in suits. Of course, some
of the women were pretty scantily clad there, too, come to think of it.

Once past the gazebo, she cut across a cobblestone
patio with an open pergola. The wood slats across the top were draped in a
flowering vine abundant with saucer-sized purple flowers. A custom outdoor
kitchen occupied the entire west end of the patio. A mouth-watering aroma of
grilling meat wafted toward her. At the barbeque pit stood a man covered in a
long white apron over white jeans and sporting a chef’s hat that bounced and
jiggled as he deftly worked the grill. She recognized James, the chef from
Restaurant
du Jour
, a favorite eatery of hers and Randolph’s.

She waved at him as she pulled open one of the
French doors to the house. Inside, blessedly cool air welcomed her into a sea
of guests who were busy chatting, laughing and holding beverages. Many were
snacking from a heavy pine table mounded with appetizers. Across the room,
which was probably a gathering room, judging from the casually elegant
stainless steel and leather furniture in a semi-circle in front of a fireplace,
she noticed a hand waving toward her. The hand, arm, and soon the rest of Ricky
emerged from a cluster of people.

“Rhetta! Over here,” she called.

“Hey!” Rhetta answered, and glanced around. She held
up the tote. “Where shall I put this wine?”

“Follow me,” said her friend. Rhetta squeezed in
behind Ricky and trailed her into the lavish kitchen that must have been
renovated about the same time as Jeremy’s apartment. Rhetta recognized the same
high quality craftsmanship in the cabinetry along with similar high-end
stainless steel appliances. She set the bottles down on a shiny granite
countertop, and folded the tote into her purse.

“Let me introduce you to our hostess,” Ricky said,
sliding an arm through Rhetta’s and leading her out to an extension of the
patio, toward a silver-haired lady holding court near a water fountain.
“Anjanette Spears, meet my best friend, Rhetta McCarter.” As Rhetta smiled at
Anjanette, she resolved to find a way to pull Ricky away and talk to her
privately, and soon.

The hostess beamed at Rhetta and extended her hand.
Rhetta grasped it and was surprised at the strength in the older woman’s
handshake. “So pleased to meet you, Mrs. Spears.”

Anjanette laughed, revealing beautiful white teeth,
undoubtedly the work of the same orthodontist who had worked on Jeremy. The
smile was far too bright for a lady who had to be pushing seventy. “Please, my
friends all call me Anjanette, as must you, dear Rhetta.” When she spoke, her
voice warbled as though in a song. She wore her silver hair pulled back and
held by an ornate silver clasp at the base of her neck. Silver spiral earrings
inlaid with diamond chips danced as did her bright blue eyes when she spoke.
Taller than Rhetta, even in the flat silver sandals, her slim figure in pale
blue slacks and bright print blouse belied her age.

She was gorgeous, Rhetta had to admit.

“You have a beautiful home, truly lovely.” Rhetta
said. It was the truth. What she didn’t say out loud, was, “How the heck did
you pay for all this?”