Carnal Vengeance (37 page)

Holly had to forcibly stop her jaw from falling open while she shook his hand. April's husband? He looked more like her father, or even her grandfather. The balding, bespectacled man whose shoulders were stooped with age appeared to be close to eighty.

"Holly went to school with me. She lives in Washington, D.C., now. We became reacquainted when I went there recently."

Theodore squinted at her over his trifocals, until he remembered. "Oh, yes. It's hard to keep track of all your good will missions these days." With a smiling glance at his wife, he told Holly, "April doesn't know how to let go of her patients. It doesn't matter where they've moved to, if they call her for help, off she goes, abandoning me to fend for myself."

April kissed his cheek. "I only go away so you'll appreciate me more when I get back."

Holly had the uneasy thought that she could be looking at herself and Philip. Though younger than Theodore, Philip was still a much older, doting man, providing the protection of a comfortable, secure relationship—no risks, no heartbreaks... no excitement. No wonder she and April got along so well. They had apparently chosen the same way to cope with their neuroses. It was just that Holly was no longer certain she wanted such an unemotional,
safe
life.

"Will Cheryl be joining you?" Theodore asked.

"I'm not sure," April replied with a frown. "Will
you
be having lunch with us?"

"No, no. You girls enjoy yourselves. Pretend I'm not even here. Say hello to Cheryl for me." He gave his wife a peck on the forehead and retreated back into his sanctuary.

"Was he talking about Cheryl Wallace?" Holly asked as April took her up the stairs from the kitchen.

"Yes. She's been staying with us since the hearing."

"Didn't you say she was married?"

April stopped on the second-story landing and turned toward Holly with a sad sigh. "Cheryl suffered a relapse. Her rather immature husband couldn't handle it, and we didn't want to put her in an institution where the media could make a big deal over it. This was the best place for her to recuperate."

"I'm not sure I understand," Holly admitted.

"Cheryl had a nervous breakdown after her attack in college—completely withdrew from everyone for about a year. Then she pulled herself back together and had seemed fine ever since. If I had thought for one minute that this might happen, I would never have agreed to her testifying."

Holly read the mixture of guilt and anguish on April's face. "I don't see how you could have known. And I gathered it was her choice. No one pushed her into it, did they?" She saw the uncertainty in April's eyes before she spoke.

"Perhaps
pushed
is the wrong word. But we did encourage her once she made the decision. At any rate, she's here so that I can care for her privately. She has an extreme fear of strangers right now, so I want to explain who you are and see if she'll agree to meet you. She's most at ease in our attic room, but I try to get her to come downstairs at least once a day. Just stay here for a minute while I go up and talk to her."

As April ascended the narrow flight of stairs, Holly couldn't help but think that there was something very eerie about a mentally disturbed woman living in the attic, even if she
was
an old friend and the owner of the house was a psychiatrist. Then again, this visit wasn't turning out anything like she had imagined. She liked April and had been looking forward to talking to her. It was the rest of the people she could have done without.

Rachel and Bobbi both intimidated her, though in different ways. Theodore made her contemplate how bleak her future with Philip could be. And Cheryl was a reminder of her past and the way she had withdrawn after her own horrible experience. It made her wonder if she was susceptible to another breakdown someday. She didn't want to believe she was that unstable, but apparently Cheryl hadn't thought of herself that way either.

The only character missing from this macabre play was the evil femme fatale, and she truly hoped Erica wasn't expected to show up. Holly didn't think she could tolerate observing her with Rachel and Bobbi after the things Bobbi had related the other night.

Her reflection ended as April came back down. "I'm sorry. She's just not up to it."

"I understand." Truthfully, she was relieved.

April showed her the room she'd be staying in. Without being asked, she explained, "I know the house seems large for just the two of us, but we usually have one or two needy students boarding with us. With everything else that's going on, I declined this term." After April pointed out the guest bath, she took Holly back downstairs through the kitchen.

In a voice she hoped sounded only mildly curious, Holly asked, "Will Erica be coming today also?"

"No. She's tied up with a business deal. Somewhere in Florida I think her secretary said."

That gave Holly an opening to return to her original question once they returned to the living room and sat down. "Speaking of Florida..."

April smiled and turned to Rachel. "We're all anxious to hear about what happened in Florida."

Rachel straightened in a way that made Holly think she was making a report to her superior officer. "It was a major FUBAR if there ever was one. David Wells, the reporter Holly gave the Frampton information to, obviously managed to make contact with the pornographer, Mick D'Angelo, but got himself in over his head. The Miami Feds let Wells play the bait, hoping to grab themselves a real prize, but somehow the setup went sour. D'Angelo and his bodyguard were killed, and the reporter was shot by D'Angelo.

"The word is they managed to get hold of a briefcase full of pornographic DVDs, one of which was apparently a genuine snuff film. There was a little custody battle over the evidence between our guys and the City of Miami. It was finally decided that the Feds would get everything except the snuff film, since the homicide actually fell under the jurisdiction of the city.

"In the evidence the Feds got was a tape of the conversation Wells had with D'Angelo before the shooting started. On that tape, Wells verbally ID'd Frampton doing a walk-on in the film and D'Angelo confirmed it."

"Good heavens," April murmured. "That's better than we ever could have expected."

"Don't break open the champagne. It goes downhill from here. The Feds arrested Frampton early this morning on pornography charges before Miami could make their move on the accessory to homicide charge, but he was free again almost immediately. He's too prominent a citizen to be denied his rights, and no matter how high the judge set the bail, he could afford it."

"But won't he still have to be tried?" Holly asked.

"Normally, yes, but there's more. Somehow, between the time that the evidence was sorted and the snuff film was to be viewed in the state attorney's office, it was exchanged for a blank one. The physical evidence of the homicide is gone."

April sighed aloud. "I haven't had a chance to hear or read much news lately. Do you think Jerry Frampton was behind switching the film?"

"Certainly possible that he'd have someone in his pocket who could handle a detail like that. Unless someone involved has an attack of conscience, there's no proof. David Wells is now the only person left alive who saw that film. His testimony will be needed to back up the audio. Regardless of that testimony, though, with D'Angelo dead, it won't be too hard for Frampton's attorney to poke holes in it."

Holly noticed how Bobbi's intent gaze followed the conversation, but she was in her meek personality that morning and not offering comments one way or another.

Fear tinged Holly's voice as she made herself ask, "Is David going to make it?"

Rachel raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you care?"

Holly was shocked by her callousness. "It's because of me that he went down there. I had no idea he'd be risking his life when I passed him the lead."

Rachel gave an indifferent shrug. "He took the risk to get a big story. Instead he got himself shot in the head. Sometimes the end justifies the means."

"Rachel,
please.
The news said he was critically wounded. I need to know how bad it is."

"It doesn't sound promising. He's in intensive care at Jackson Memorial in Miami—probably the best place in the south to be if you have to get yourself shot. The last report was he was still unconscious and under guard."

Holly stiffened. "Under guard? But—Oh my god. They think Frampton might try to make sure he never wakes up. Is that it?"

Rachel nodded and all four lapsed into a dejected silence.

April reached over and patted Holly's knee. "Remember what you just said to me about Cheryl. It was
his
decision to follow up on the lead you gave him. Nothing you did put him in jeopardy."

"I suppose you're right, but, I don't know, maybe if I had been more honest with him—"

"I told you so," Bobbi/Roberta interrupted in her aggressive voice as she whipped off her glasses. "You're going to have to do something about her, April."

Holly glanced from one to the other, and her stomach released a bit more acid as she realized Bobbi was referring to her. "I have to go," Holly announced abruptly and stood up. Even Bobbi reacted with surprise. "I can't sit here, wondering, waiting for a third party to let me know how he is. I have to go down there."

April rose and took Holly's hands in hers. "This is more than just a guilty conscience, isn't it?"

Holly's resigned sigh was her answer.

"You truly care about him, don't you? You let down the walls and discovered you could feel again. Don't you see what a milestone that is?"

Holly lowered her gaze, but left her hands in April's. "I didn't want to ever be this vulnerable to a man again."

"Love isn't a weakness, Holly. Emotion—any emotion—is a strength. You just have to learn how to channel it. Let it work
for
you instead of against you. When you allow yourself to feel, you can be anything, do anything you wish. Tell me, just now, weren't you thinking that if you went to his side, somehow you could make him better?"

"I don't know what I was thinking. I just feel so helpless."

"Then go to him, give him your new strength, bring him back to testify against the man who hurt you."

Holly blinked. She hadn't been thinking of her revenge at all, but apparently it hadn't left April's mind.

"However, before you go," April said, releasing Holly's hands, "let's have the talk you came up here for." She waited for Holly to be seated again. "I can understand how you must be concerned over what's happened. You didn't know any of us until a month ago and, realistically, you still don't know any of us well enough to trust us. But I'm going to ask for that trust anyway. None of us is a murderess, Holly. You must believe that."

Holly felt Roberta's narrow-eyed stare before she saw it. The woman had slipped out of her mousy shell again and her thoughts were easy to read.
Except for Erica.

Rachel drew Holly's attention. "Bobbi said you were with a friend the night O'Day was killed. Who was that?"

"David and I spent the weekend at a mountain lodge in Maryland."

Rachel smirked. "Of course, he's not in any condition to confirm or refute that alibi at the moment, is he?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what happens to your alibi if he doesn't wake up?"

"I don't need an alibi," Holly protested. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Hmmph," Rachel snorted. "Did anyone else see you that night? Desk clerk? Waitress? Bartender?"

Holly paused and made herself review the Saturday night in question. Rather than get dressed to go out, they had ordered room service and when it was delivered, she had shyly retired to the bathroom. It wasn't much better than the night Ziegler was murdered, when she had been home alone. But surely Philip would be willing to say they were together.
Good Lord.
She was thinking of lying to defend herself from something she hadn't done to begin with.

When she didn't answer, Rachel went on. "It seems to me that
we're
the ones who should be concerned about
you.
In all the years the Little Sister Society has been operating, we've never had a single violent incident. The trouble didn't start until you came into the picture. I can account for every one of our member's whereabouts during both murders—except yours."

"April and Cheryl were here together. Not only can they vouch for each other, but Professor MacLeash will corroborate their story. Bobbi, Erica, and I were having a girls' night out when Ziegler was killed. There are a number of people who could easily be encouraged to verify they saw us. Last Saturday night, Erica was at home in California, and Bobbi and I were out together again."

Holly could not imagine Bobbi hanging out at bars, least of all with Erica, but she could hardly call Rachel's bluff when she couldn't prove her own story.

As usual, April tried to ease the tension. "Rachel's not accusing you of anything, Holly. She's just showing you that we can't afford to start being suspicious of each other. At any rate, didn't you say there were some suspects already, Rachel?"

"Actually, the computer has picked quite a few," Rachel replied with a nod. "The use of drugs to subdue the men implies the killer isn't big or strong enough to overcome them with force, which could suggest a woman. Ziegler and O'Day opened their hotel room doors to the murderer, which suggests that he or she was either recognized or expected. If it was a stranger, it is more likely the men would have invited a woman into the room than a man. And third, the weapon used suggests a woman as well. The mutilation is sexual to begin with, as was the message, and it was done by two serrated blades sawing smoothly back and forth—in other words, the guess is it was an electric carving knife—something found in most modern kitchens."