With His Dying Breath (21 page)

             
“Mrs. Young, thank you for coming to get me,” she said retrieving the rest of her things from her car.

             
“Well, JJ, you are most welcome. I’m sorry for the circumstance, but I could stand the company. Charlie’s working until twelve tonight. They’ve got some kind of sale going on.”

             
“Well, I don’t want to be any trouble. But I am kinda scared about what’s happening. Dad said somebody is targeting people close to Sammi.”

             
“Why does he think that?”

             
“Well, I don’t know. Was she and Madelyn good friends?” JJ buckled up her seatbelt.

             
Evelyn said, “I don’t think so. I’ve never heard Madelyn mention them talking or going out, you know girlfriend kinda things.”

             
“I’ll ask Sammi when I can. I know she’s going to be so sad having to plan her aunt’s funeral. When is Madelyn’s funeral?”

             
“It’s actually Sunday. She has a son living overseas, so he should be home tonight or tomorrow. I haven’t talked to the family yet.”

             
“What about the visitation?”

             
“It’s Sunday, too, an hour before the service.”

             
“I guess Aunt Pat’s will be Sunday or Monday. What do you think?”

             
“Well, might be more toward the middle of the week since an autopsy will be done. I think that’s standard for crimes.”

             
“I hope Dad will let me get out of school to go.”

             
“I’m sure he will, hon. I’m sure he will.”

             
They rode in silence for a few minutes then JJ said. “I saw Jenny yesterday. I went to her house.”

             
“You did? How is she?”

             
“Not good. I didn’t mention anything you told me. But, Mrs. Young, she told me a lot more. Did you know she saw Mr. Brockton the afternoon before he died?”

             
“She did his nails that day.” Evelyn slowed down so she could concentrate more on the conversation.

             
“Well, yeah, but she also saw him at Johnny’s Burgers that afternoon. She said it wasn’t planned that they just ran into one another.”

             
“I question that. It was probably planned, and somebody saw them.” Evelyn was very familiar with Jenny’s reputation.

             
“Well, the way she was telling it, I believed her. But anyway, Mr. Brockton told her he was being blackmailed.”

             
“Blackmailed by who? About what?”

             
“She didn’t know who. He said it was a voice on the phone a warning like I’ve been getting.”

             
“A warning?”

             
“Yes and said if he didn’t confess to two murders, the person would call the police.”

             
“Two murders?”

             
“Yes the lady from the car accident and Jenny’s father.”

             
She listened to my recording and said the voice sounded familiar but couldn’t place it. She said we could talk later that she would call me. That part I didn’t believe.”

             
Evelyn smiled at JJ’s instincts. Her mind turned to who could have been blackmailing Blake.

             
“Mrs. Young, why did you let Jenny work down there if her reputation was so bad? Did you ever talk to her about it? Oh, good, Chip just texted me, he’s back. Okay, if he comes by your house?”

             
“Sure. What would you like for supper, and I can stop and get it?” She was driving up City Boulevard into fast food mecca.

             
“Uh, well, how about a chicken sandwich.”

             
“Great.” She whipped the car into the drive thru and ordered three number fours upsized. She sent a text back to Chip ‘YES.’

             
She paid, and JJ held the sacks of food then tried to answer JJ’s question about Jenny.

             
“JJ, I guess it’s hard to explain about Jenny. I guess you can say I felt sorry for her. That business with her dad and especially after he died just about killed her and her mom, too.”

             
“She told me she never sees her mom, and she lives nearby.”

             
“Her mom won’t see her. Absolutely refuses to and I find that very sad. So I guess I just wanted to offer her some womanly comfort, if you know what I mean. Just some friendship from an older person.”

             
“Oh I know, kinda like me and Sammi.”

             
“Exactly.”

* * *

              Sammi was heartbroken. Someone murdered her Aunt Pat and killed her own spirit at the same time. She felt intense physical pain.

             
“I just don’t understand how someone can just come down the hall and walk into her room and pull a plastic bag over her head and watch her die. I just can’t grasp that,” she said to Cain.

             
“Me either, Sammi, but they’re reviewing the tapes now. Let’s go down and see if we can identify the person.”

             
“Cain, you go. I want to stay here with her until the ambulance comes. I just can’t leave her alone.”

             
“Okay. I’ll close the door so you can be alone.

             
“Thank you, Cain.”

             
The woman on the tape was tall and rather heavyset. She wore a blazer type jacket and pants and orthopedic shoes. Her face was not visible. Her hair was medium length with a bad haircut.

             
One staff person did remember the woman who signed in under the name of Mrs. Jonas Attaway. “I walked in the room to give Mrs. Solomon her meds and the woman was sitting in there with her you know like she was waiting for her to wake up. She spoke to me and commented on how peaceful Mrs. Solomon looked.”

             
“Yes, go on,” the detective said.

             
“Well, I woke her up for her meds. That was at five thirty. She sat up, and saw the woman sitting there, took her meds and just went back to sleep. So, I don’t think Mrs. Solomon recognized her. She didn’t speak to her.”

             
“Did the woman say anything?”

             
“No she didn’t, just kinda shifted her feet so I could get to the bed easier. But I just didn’t suspect anything and I’m so sorry. I just didn’t know her life was in danger.”

             
“We didn’t either. Thank you ma’am.”

Sammi cried as the
coroner released the body to the crime lab technicians. They removed her aunt from the room and rolled her into the ambulance for the ride to Atlanta for an autopsy. She slowly walked back to the room and began packing up her things. Sammi reached for a homemade afghan tossed on the floor, and a piece of paper fell down face up. It read “one to go.” She called for a nurse to get the detective quickly.

             
Everyone knew another person would die. They just did not know who, when, where, how, or why.

             
There was no sound from a radio or television and no conversation around the kitchen table as Mrs. Young, JJ and Chip ate their chicken sandwiches. The solemn countenance on each face manifested sadness, anxiety, and concern for Sammi and the community.

             
JJ spoke first. “Well, surely the police will know Sammi did not kill her aunt and that the same person is out there killing everyone else.”

             
“Maybe they will drop charges against her,” Mrs. Young said.

             
“I wish they would but I don’t think they will. Not because of her aunt anyway. I just hope Sammi doesn’t become a suspect in this, too,” Chip added.

             
“Chip, why would she?” JJ couldn’t bear that thought.

             
“Well, we don’t have another suspect. You know, I mean we as in law enforcement.”

             
“Sammi will be questioned along with others, I’m sure. The detectives will ask about alibis and motive. They’ll look for a big insurance policy. That kind of thing.”

             
“Mrs. Young, did you know her?” JJ asked.

             
Evelyn motioned for them to move into the den to be more comfortable. She said, “I did, actually. She used to come to the beauty school to get her hair done. If she had money, I don’t think she would have done that. Later, I would occasionally see her around town. But she was up in her late seventies by then. She had a stroke about three or four years ago, I think it was. She was a sweet lady back when I knew her. She used to grow the prettiest flowers and bring us some for our stations.”

             
“She took Sammi in when her parents were murdered,” JJ told Chip. “I don’t know if I’ve told you about that. Have I?”

             
“No, but sounds like Sammi’s had some bad breaks.” 

             
“Hi Daddy,” JJ said into her cell. “Are you still at the nursing home?”

             
“No actually, Sammi and I are about two minutes away from Mrs. Young’s house. Just letting her know so not to frighten anyone.”

             
“OK, Daddy, Chip’s here with us. Mr. Young is working.”

             
“See you in a second.”

             
Mrs. Young walked to the door and saw two vehicles pull into the driveway. Mrs. Young’s two Chihuahuas went crazy barking at the noise of the car engines. When she was sure it was Cain and Sammi, she opened the door.

             
“I feel like celebrating tonight,” the man said to his wife on the phone.

             
“Sounds great, darling! What would you like to do?”

             
“Let’s drive down to that restaurant west of Perry, the old barn. You’ve been wanting to try it. Nine o’clock okay?”

             
“Wonderful. What are we celebrating?

             
“I just want to celebrate life. Life is good! I made another step toward closing a big deal.”

             
“Great, honey! That makes me happy as well.” She only thought she knew what he referred to.

             
The conversation between the husband and wife was casual and intimate at the same time. His wife loved this about him. She never knew which mood he would be in and adapted her own mood to his. When he was pleasant, she was. If he was gruff with her, she dished it right back. He seemed to appreciate this and sometimes tested her to see how quickly she caught on.

             
Sometimes though she just could not keep up, and she knew it. She was forgetful and tired most of the time. Because she was only forty years old, she was fearful of an illness. She knew she would have to tell him just not tonight. No, not while we’re celebrating life, she thought.

             
The restaurant was not crowded even for a Friday night. It’s the economy, the hostess said. People just don’t want to make the drive, I guess.

             
He agreed, as she led them to a back booth.

             
“Honey, order me a dry martini. I’m going to step outside and make a call. I just remembered an appointment tomorrow. He lied. She didn’t suspect a thing.

             
He drove the two miles to the Holiday storage facility. He needed the gun for the final act of his plan. Punching the combination into the lock box, he eased into the gate parking one row over just as precaution. He moved with his face to the aluminum siding so any detection device would not recognize him.

             
“What the?” he said when he saw the garage door to his storage room raised and the locker empty. Assuming it was a trap, he retraced his steps to his own vehicle and left.

             
He hurried back to the restaurant where his martini was waiting.

             
“Everything all right, my love? You look a little flushed.”

             
“No, there’s a change in plans. I may not be able to close the deal tomorrow depends on a call later tonight.”

             
He told the truth this time except the appointment was his final kill. He needed another weapon. An untraceable gun.

             
He ate his dinner thinking about the storage locker while the wife went on and on about her day. She did not mention her health problems.

             
He would express a ‘that’s nice, dear’ or ‘wonderful, honey’ every now and then. She didn’t even notice he was not paying attention to her.

             
Later that evening, after enjoying a shot of brandy, she developed a migraine headache and went to bed leaving him in the lounge chair.

             
“I’ll be up to check on you in a few minutes, darling.” He knew she would pass out shortly after getting in bed.

             
The ten o’clock news showed Patricia Solomon being rolled into the ambulance as one staff worker described her as a very sweet lady who always had a kind word for everyone. A file photo showed Samantha Brockton with her husband, Blake Brockton, during happier days and then a photo of Samantha at a benefit.

             
The man lifted his right hand making an obscene gesture to her face on the television and declared, “You’re next!”