Cold Justice (10 page)

“Sure. Right away.”

“Oh, and Hank?”

“Yes?”

“That twelve year old boy on the list. Jerry Farnsworth. Did
they ever find him?”

Hank tapped the keys and a moment later he said, “Yup. He
showed up three days later. According to the report, he had run away from home
and found out life on the street wasn’t all he had expected, and returned on
his own.”

Annie smiled. “A happy ending.”

Hank chuckled. “Yes. And a lesson learned.”

Annie laughed, and then said, “Thanks, Hank. Take care.”

Annie studied the notes she had made. She realized, if the
woman that had been murdered, was murdered by her husband, then she may not
have been reported missing. But at least these two names were a place to begin.
It’s all she had.

The fax machine rang, and then squealed. She would have to
get a new machine one day. That one was pretty ancient. But it still worked.
She stood and went to the fax and waited. She watched a paper come from the
machine and slide into the tray. Then another one. She scooped them up and sat
at the desk. Leaning back, she studied the reports.

She was looking for the addresses of the missing persons.

Betty Barnoble. 18 Maverly Court. She tapped a few keys on
the keyboard. Google maps showed Maverly Court to be on the other side of Main.
She used the satellite view and studied the area, trying to get a feel for
things.

Next, Vera Blackley. 90 Berrymore Street. Again, she did a
search on Google maps. Berrymore Street was just a few blocks away. She zoomed
in closer and her mouth dropped open.

Berrymore Street runs parallel to Silverpine Street, where
Kevin Rand lives. Where Abigail Macy had seen the murder take place.

More than just a coincidence? Annie thought so.

She slid open the side drawer of the desk and dug out a file
folder, looking for the address of Kevin Rand’s house. Number 76. She stabbed a
few more keys and zoomed in on the map.

She sat back, a triumphant smile on her face.

The house where Vera Blackley lives on Berrymore, and Kevin
Rand’s house on Silverpine, touched each other back to back, and except for a
few bushes, the two lots joined in seamlessly with each other.

Chapter 17

Five Days Ago

VERA BLACKLEY wasn’t happy. She knew the man she was having
an affair with was married. And of course, she was married as well.

But she wanted more.

Her marriage had long been on the rocks, and it meant
nothing to her any more. Anderson was her second husband. A loser, and a poor
excuse for a man. He was just a mistake she had made, and she wanted out.

Her first marriage had lasted several years, but it had been
a disaster, and she was surprised they had kept up appearances as long as they
did. The best years of her life had been given to a man who gave nothing in
return. She couldn’t spare any more time, when life was short, and she wanted
to get all she could from it. She wanted everything she deserved, and he just
couldn’t give it to her. So, when Anderson came along, with promises of eternal
love, she was swept right up.

And so, she married Anderson three years ago. The honeymoon
was good, and so was the first couple of months or so, but everything had
slipped downhill since then. Now it was just a facade, just a brittle shell
protecting their doomed marriage. Doomed from the start. Why she hadn’t been
able to see him for what he really was, she couldn’t understand. She had been
misled. He had treated her well when they were seeing each other, so she didn’t
hesitate in divorcing her first husband, and marrying Anderson. She thought he
was the love of her life.

How wrong she was. What a fool she had been.

And now at thirty-eight years old, she wanted more. Was she
always destined to meet failures? She knew she was still attractive. Her long
thick hair hung down below her shoulders. She had nice full lips. A perfect
nose. The wrinkles around her eyes and on her forehead were barely noticeable.
And she took good care of her body. Still a nice flat stomach, unspoiled all
these years by being careful she didn’t get pregnant. She shuddered at the
thought.

She stood and let her housecoat slip to the floor, naked,
inspecting herself in the full-length mirror on her bedroom wall. She still had
a great figure. Long legs, and well shaped. She suspected there wasn’t a man
alive that wouldn’t turn and watch her as she walked by. She was pleased with
what she saw.

She smiled as she thought of her new love. She had met him
six months ago, and he was not a failure like the last two. He was successful,
and she knew she loved him. And he loved her. He had told her so on many
occasions.

She was thankful Anderson was often out of town, seemingly
on business. She suspected he was seeing someone else as well. She didn’t
really care. She didn’t love him any more, and she knew he didn’t bother
himself in the least worrying about what she did.

But she wasn’t happy.

She wanted her latest lover to marry her. She had told him
on many occasions she would gladly divorce Anderson, and marry him, but he had
never expressed the same desire. At least not outright, just in a vague way now
and then. But, she couldn’t wait forever. Why was he holding on to his marriage
when he had no feelings for his wife?

She hated this running around, hiding, not being able to say
anything. She had never been to his house, even though his wife was away for
extended periods of time. No, he always came here. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t
feel as though he loved her as much as he said he did. She wasn’t going to take
it any more.

Sure, she loved him, and didn’t want to lose him, but she
could find another man if she really had to. They were a dime a dozen, and of
course, it wouldn’t take much to make them want her. She had that way about
her. Most men would do anything to get a chance with her. She spun around and
admired herself from the back. Looks good. I still got it.

And now, she was fed up. She wanted a commitment. And
tonight she was going to get it. She would lay it all out in front of him. It
was now or never. She would give him an ultimatum.

But subtly, of course.

She looked at her watch. Still some time before he comes.

She would have to seduce him, using her many, and ample
charms, and show him what he would be missing if he chose to ignore their love.

Sure, he’d seen her body before, but tonight, she was going
to keep it covered, showing just enough to make him hungry, and then deny him.

She laughed out loud. This was going to work. She’d had
experience in the past with just this sort of thing. She knew how to get her
way.

Humming to herself now, anticipating the evening, she went
to her closet. She browsed through the long row of clothing. She knew what he
liked. She chose a sleek red dress with a plunging neckline, her back naked to
the waist, tight enough to show her beautiful figure, and short enough to
reveal the tops of her silk stockings. Perfect. She removed it from the hanger
and dropped it on the bed.

She went to the vanity beside the door and slipped open the
top drawer. Forget the pantyhose. She pulled out a pair of red stockings and a
garter belt, the same color as the dress. She admired them, and dropped them on
the bed.

And of course, a pair of red panties. She laughed. He won’t
see those tonight, and maybe never again if he doesn’t make the right decision.

And then to the closet again. A pair of red shoes with heels
like towers. And a pair of nice earrings, black, to compliment the color of her
eyes, with a matching necklace.

She set them aside and went to the shower. She washed her long
black hair, and then toweled off and flicked on her hair dryer, drying her hair
and curling it at the tips, the way she knew he liked it.

She spent the next half hour getting dressed, adjusting
everything perfectly, painting her lips bright red, and spraying on a little
Victoria’s Secret body spray.

She stood back and admired herself, smiling grimly,
determined to make her plan work.

Tonight’s the night.

Do, or die.

Chapter 18

Thursday, August 18th, 11:05 AM

ANNIE TOOK a more thorough look at the police report of
Anderson Blackley regarding his missing wife, Vera.

She was sure now there was a connection. She believed Vera
Blackley might have been the woman Abigail Macy had seen murdered on her way
home late Sunday evening. Actually, in the wee hours of Monday morning.

She didn’t believe Dr. Hoffman had been correct when he said
Mrs. Macy was delusional and paranoid. Maybe she was at times, but not
concerning what she had claimed to have seen take place that night.

It was too much of a coincidence that the two houses were
back to back, and Vera Blackley was reported missing the day after.

The report listed her name and address, as well as vital
statistics such as hair color, weight, age, and etcetera.

Under the heading ‘Circumstances leading to disappearance’,
a statement had been filled out by Anderson Blackley.

“I was out of town on business for several days and returned
home on the morning of Monday, August 14th. At that time, my wife was not at
home. I was not immediately concerned, but when she didn’t return by late
afternoon, I phoned around to her friends and family. No one had seen her since
Sunday, so I called the police.”

Not much to go on there. It’s not a crime to be missing.
Anderson Blackley wasn’t suspected of anything, and if there were no evidence
harm had come to Vera Blackley, then the police would only do preliminary
investigations.

She would have to arrange to interview Anderson Blackley
directly.

The report said he was the National Sales Manager for a new line
of shoes for the elderly, called ‘Proper Shoes’. There was a contact phone
number. She called it.

A receptionist answered. Blackley was there, and Annie was
put through to him immediately. She introduced herself and asked if they could
arrange to see him later that day.

Blackley sounded confused. “Why are you involved in this?”
he asked. “I didn’t hire any private investigators.”

“We were hired by your neighbor, Philip Macy, to look into
the death of his wife. She had earlier reported seeing someone killed on the
property behind your house, and we think there may be a connection to the
disappearance of your wife.”

“You don’t think she’s dead, do you?” He didn’t seem to
sound concerned.

“It’s too soon to say anything, Mr. Blackley, but we would
like to speak to you if possible.”

“Hmm. Well, ok. I can see you at one o’clock today, if that’s
good for you.”

“That would be perfect,” Annie replied.

She hung up and sat back in the swivel chair, formulating a
plan. First, she wanted to check something out. She had a couple of hours
before their appointment with Blackley.

Jake was in the basement, doing his daily workout routine.
She went from the office and swung open the basement door, leading off of the
kitchen. She could hear him grunting and straining. She peeked down and watched
him for a minute, admiring him, his muscles bulging under his shirt, soaked
with sweat. She headed down the stairs.

He looked up and grinned when he saw her, and dropped the
barbell he was lifting. It thumped and settled into place. He grabbed a towel,
wiped off his face, tossed it aside and looked at her.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Annie sat down on the bottom step. “We have an appointment
with Anderson Blackley at one o’clock.”

He cocked his head. “Who’s Anderson Blackley?”

Annie laughed, and then filled him in on her conversation
with Hank, the missing persons list, the police reports, and her suspicions
regarded Vera Blackley’s disappearance.

Jake whistled, “And she lives right behind Kevin Rand?”

“Yes. I thought I would drop over there first and take a
look around the property. I just want to get a feel for the area.”

Jake shrugged. “Sounds like a plan. Do you want me to come
with you?”

Annie shook her head. “No, I won’t be long. I just need to
see for myself.”

“Ok.” He went back to his weights.

Annie stood and went upstairs to the kitchen. She grabbed
her keys from the basket on the counter, her umbrella from the stand in the
front lobby, and slipped on an old pair of shoes. Practically worn out, but
they would be perfect for today. She made her way out the door and looked at
the sky.

The rain had been falling intermittently all morning. Right
now, the sun had forced itself out from behind the low-lying clouds, but all
around was the evidence of earlier showers. She caught an unmistakable whiff of
ozone in the air.

She climbed into her Ford Escort, fastened the seatbelt, and
brought the engine to life, pulling away.

In a few minutes, she came to a stop in front of the
Blackley house on Berrymore Street. She stepped out and surveyed the house.
Nothing remarkable about it. Just a normal middle-class house in a middle-class
neighborhood. Garage jutting out in front, nicely manicured lawn, small
flowerbed under the front window.

She took the narrow pathway to the front steps, onto a small
porch, and knocked on the door. She waited. There was no answer, just as she’d
hoped. Anderson Blackley was at work, but she wanted to make sure no one else
was here before she went snooping around.

Stepping off the porch, she moved along the front of the house
and made her way up the side, to the property at the back. There was a back
door in the house, and she climbed the steps to the small deck and peeked in
the sliding double doors. She could see the kitchen, and down a hallway beyond,
probably to the living area.