Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 01 - Death by Chocolate (29 page)

“Want some?” I offered.

Fred shuddered. “No, thank you.”

King Henry strolled by, rubbing against my leg, then leaping gracefully
onto my recliner and stretching out.

“Hard to believe that’s the same vicious animal who attacked Bennett only a little while ago,” I observed.

“Multiple Personality Disorder,” Fred diagnosed. “You have a Jekyll and Hyde cat.”

Henry yawned, unconcerned with any psychoses he might or might not have.

“I think Bennett’ll bite. He’ll be here tonight,” I said, shoveling in another spoonful of the chocolate and peanut butter glop. “You should have seen the look he gave me when I mentioned that I had research and DNA testing to do. He thinks I think he thinks—” I paused with my spoon in mid-air and tried to decide if I had the proper sequence of thought processes. “Anyway, he’ll be here because I convinced him that I’m willing to cut a deal, that I’m dumb enough to think he’ll trade Zach for the evidence.”

“Of course, you’re really smart enough to know he won’t, that he’ll just take the opportunity to try to kill you.”

“Yep, I know that. Guess that makes me pretty smart, huh?”

“That depends. Any idea how you’re going to get him to confess what he’s done, then capture him and manage to stay alive?”

“I don’t have all the details worked out yet. I had to improvise when I was talking to him. But just as soon as I get over the abject terror of what I’ve done, I’m sure my brain cells will start working again and I’ll figure out something.”

Fred shook his head and grimaced. “I hope your being murdered in this house doesn’t lower property values in the neighborhood.”

“Fred! Stop that and help me think.” Somehow the image of a real estate appraiser studying my lifeless body and trying to decide how much it would lower property values got my thought processes moving. “Okay, first, you need to wire me for sound, like they do in the movies.”

“And just exactly where do you think I’m going to find this
wire
?”

“The same place you found that bug detector and whatever that thing was that you used to pick Paula’s lock.”

He didn’t have a response for that. I didn’t think he would.

“Then you need to keep Henry at your place,” I continued. “It’s going to be hard to make this creep confess if Henry’s trying to pierce his jugular.”

Fred looked across the room at Henry. “He sheds.”

“Deal with it. Third, we need to get a phony bloody diaper and you keep the real one.” I swallowed hard. “Just in case.”

Fred shook his head. “Lin, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Certainly I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t have the courage to do it, so don’t tell me. To continue, fourth, how about if you hide in the closet or something and be close while I’m extracting this confession? It wouldn’t hurt if you could come up with a gun from your treasure trove of lock picks, bug detectors and hidden microphones.”

He didn’t reply, so I took that for an affirmative.

I slapped my palms onto my knees. “Then that’s settled. We have a plan.”

Fred folded his arms. “We do not. You’ve lost your mind. If this guy shows up—”

“He’ll show.”

“If he shows, then your life is in danger.”

I held up a thumb and forefinger with barely a silly millimeter of space between. “Just a tiny little bit. I have all the confidence in the world that you’ll protect me.” The gesture would have been more effective if that thumb and forefinger hadn’t been shaking. “If you
‘ve got a better idea, speak up.”

He sat there in stoic silence for several moments. “I don’t,” he finally said. “But I will tell you this, there’s not going to be any wiring you for sound. That’s done when you need to be mobile, and you’re not going anywhere with this guy. What I will do is hide upstairs with a microphone so sensitive it can hear and record if you so much as breathe hard, and if you do, I’m coming down and putting an end to the whole scenario. And if you get yourself killed, I’ll never forgive you.”

“See? I knew we had a plan in there somewhere.”

Fred sighed then left to get a microphone, a gun and who knew what other paraphernalia. I put in a call to
Trent, left my name on his voice mail, then went upstairs to write my last will and testament. How humiliating it would be when everybody found out my secret chocolate recipes weren’t secret at all.

A few minutes later I sat at my
ancient computer, composing my will and contemplating what I should do about Henry. Technically speaking, he was only visiting, but realistically speaking, it didn’t look like his owners were going to claim him. Should I set up a trust fund for him or not? And if I did set up a trust fund, what would I use to fund it with?

I’d just decided that dying posed far too many problems and I would have to live when the phone rang.

“Lindsay, this is Trent.”

Well, at least he got his own name right this time. “We need to talk,” I said.

“We certainly do! What the hell was that business about the diaper and the plastic wrap and poisoned chocolate? It sounded like you were trying to accuse Bennett of something!”

“Damned straight I was.
He’s Lester Mackey, and this blood sample I got from him will prove it. All you have to do is match it against what you found in the car and in the apartment.”

“Where are you coming up with this stuff? I can’t run that blood! Even if I wanted to, I’d have to have Bennett’s consent. But there’s no reason to. Lester Mackey was the detective Bennett hired to find his son. Mackey’s the one who was using the vacant house to spy on Paula. From what Bennett’s been able to piece together, he thinks Mackey got greedy and tried to blackmail Paula and she killed him, dumped his body and hid his car in her garage. Mackey hasn’t contacted Bennett since Saturday, the day he disappeared, and Bennett said during that last contact that the man acted strange, as if he had his own agenda.”

“That is such bull! I can’t believe you’d buy into it! If all that’s true, then who tried to kill me? Wouldn’t Mackey already be dead by that time if Bennett’s telling the truth?”

Trent was quiet for a moment, and when he finally spoke, some of the anger in his voice had been replaced by uncertainty. “I don’t know. I’ll admit this case has got a few tangles in it, but the legalities are clear enough.”

“Damn it, there are no tangles! It’s all very simple. Bennett was Mackey. You’ll never find Mackey’s body because there was no such person. You said you couldn’t find a listing for him in Dallas.”

“Bennett admitted the guy was probably using a phony name. Said he came highly recommended, but not necessarily legit. Bennett told us he’d been so desperate to find his kid after all this time that he didn’t look real close at the guy’s credentials.”

Even though I knew it wasn’t true, the story made me hesitate for a split second. I suppose I couldn’t blame Trent for being taken in. “You wanted to hear Paula’s story, well, sit back and listen.”

“I already know Paula’s story.”

“You don’t know squat.” I proceeded to fill him in on what Paula had told me.

“Why are you telling me all this now? My job ended with that arrest warrant. From here on out, it’s between the DA, Paula’s defense attorney, the judge and the jury.”

“What a cop-out! You can’t haul an innocent woman off to jail and let her abusive husband take her kid to abuse and say your job’s ended. If that’s the kind of man you are, don’t bother coming to my shop for chocolate! You don’t deserve…”

“Lindsay, be reasonabl
e! My job is to enforce the law. I had a warrant. I had to take Paula into custody. Bennett had a judgment giving him custody of Zach. I had to deliver the boy to him.”

“Well, there are some of us who believe in justice
instead of legal technicalities. I’m bringing Bennett in tonight, and I’ll have a taped confession for you.”

I slammed down the phone and seethed for a while. Actually, the righteous anger was a nice break from the abject terror. It just didn’t last long enough, and by
seven that evening when I took Henry to Fred’s house, I was deep into the abject terror again.

Fred lugged another strange bag over to my house then set up his equipment in my bedroom, directly over the living room.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” I questioned. “It’s so small.”

“It’ll work. This is the latest technology in the field.”

“What field might that be?” My terror didn’t completely overpower my curiosity.

“The technology that allows me to hear and record if you so much as breathe hard in the room below.”

“When this is over, Fred Sommers, you’ve got some questions to answer.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the old saying,
Dead women ask no questions
?”

“That’s not funny.”

“Sure isn’t. Go downstairs and recite the alphabet, first in a normal tone, then whispering, and we’ll do a test.”

I stomped down, hoping he’d be listening and my footsteps would hurt his ears.

By eight o’clock, I was sweating though the evening was pleasantly cool. I was too tense even to eat chocolate. I just sat on the edge of the sofa, sweating and waiting.

When the doorbell rang, I jumped at least five feet off that sofa.

“Okay, Fred,” I whispered to the ceiling, “show time.”

I walked across the room on legs that felt sort of like spaghetti cooked to the
al mushe
stage. When I wrapped my fingers around the glass knob, I swear it was hot. As I opened the door, I noticed for the first time that it creaked. Ominously.

Bennett stood on the porch in the gathering darkness, a pleasant smile on his face, and for a minute I thought maybe I was all wrong.

But then he came inside, and in the light I could see those cold eyes again.

“Have a seat,” I invited automatically. “Can I get you something to drink?” Good grief! All that work my mother had done instilling proper etiquette and good manners had obviously taken, but I wasn’t sure she intended it to apply to murderers.

“Thanks, but I’m not thirsty.” He sat on the sofa, leaning back casually, one arm draped along the back.

I sat way on the other end, leaning forward tensely, both hands clenched in my lap. “Where’s Zach?” I asked.

“With a sitter. I thought we should have a chance to talk by ourselves. I’m not quite sure why you wanted me to come over here tonight, but I suspect it has something to do with my mentally ill wife. She can be pretty persuasive. She’s not really lying, you know, because she totally believes the wild tales she tells.”

This certainly wasn’t what I’d expected. He was good, damn good. “Guess that makes me mentally ill, too, because I believe all those wild tales and I believe those scars.”

His smile became sad. “I really appreciate your being such a good friend to Paula all this time. I still love her, you know. It’s not her fault she’s sick.”

“If you don’t cut the crap,
I’m
going to be sick!” Anger was displacing some of my fear. “You abused Paula for years,” I accused. “You threatened her with a gun which went off accidentally, injuring you instead of her. She ran away because she thought she’d killed you, and it’s a damn shame she didn’t. You followed her here. You invented Lester Mackey, knowing the Lester part would make her think it was your father and she’d get all freaked out, and then you made Lester Mackey disappear so it would look like she killed him.”

Bennett’s sad smile never slipped nor did he say a single word. This business of forcing a confession wasn’t easy.

I plunged on, my voice rising with a return of righteous anger. “You watched her from the house across the street. You planted hidden microphones under her coffee table and her bed so you could spy on her.”

That brought a flicker of surprise and a flash of rage to those cold eyes.

“You slipped sleeping pills into Paula’s aspirin bottle,” I continued, rising to my feet so I could look down at him, “and then you took Zach to the park while she was asleep so it would look like she wasn’t a good mother. You must have worn your uniform, so if anybody saw you, they’d just report it as a police officer, and the neighborhood was soon crawling with them. That’s what Zach was trying to tell the officer who found him.
Pees man.
You. A policeman had taken him. And finally you hid that car in Paula’s garage to throw suspicion on her.”

He lowered his gaze to his lap and shook his head. Sadly. Then he looked back up at me. “Lindsay, I’m so sorry you had to go through all this trauma with my wife. But surely you can see how ridiculous that story is. Why would I do those things?”

I leaned closer, invading his space. “To torment her, because that’s what abusers do when the abusee escapes. And to set it up so she couldn’t possibly get custody of Zach. Why do you even want him? Just to keep Paula from having him or so you can abuse him the way your father abused you?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I want Zach because he’s mine.” Bennett’s smooth voice had acquired a rough edge. The fingers of his hand on the
back of the sofa curled into a clench. I was making progress, getting to him.