Cold Justice (23 page)

“Yes. One week.”

Jake smiled. He knew Hank would need to get an interpreter
to finish this.

“Someone will come to see you later. They will speak en
Français, OK?”

Pierre nodded his head vigorously. “Yes. I wait.”

Hank walked him to the tape, lifted it, and Pierre jogged
away.

Jake watched as Lisa Krunk ran up to him, cutting him off.
She shoved the mike at him, asked him a question, and frowned at his reply.
Pierre shrugged, and Lisa watched him jog away again.

Hank laughed. “Lisa won’t get much out of him?”

Jake watched Lisa circle around, Don following, trying to
get a better camera view of the victim. Trying to find another juicy tidbit.

They turned as the medical examiner, Nancy Pietek,
approached. She greeted them and turned to Hank. “Looks pretty straight
forward. I can’t tell for sure yet, but it appears the cause of dead is
exsanguination. Basically, she bled to death.”

“Any sexual abuse? Rape?” Hank asked.

Nancy shook her head. “I haven’t checked her thoroughly, of
course. I’ll know when I get the body back to the morgue, but her clothes were
intact, a few defensive wounds are visible, but otherwise it seems to be just
as it appears.”

“And the time of death?”

“Last evening, looks like it happened somewhere between
eight and eleven pm.”

Hank nodded. “Thanks, Nancy,” he said, as she turned and
headed toward Jameson.

Hank sighed, letting the air out slowly. “I will have to
talk to Philip Macy, as well,” he said, thinking out loud. “Let him know about
Samantha Riggs. Maybe find out a little bit more about her. Her family,
etcetera. I need to see how Philip is doing, anyway.” He shook his head. “It’s
been tough on him.”

“And now he’s lost his only employee,” Annie added, and
sighed. “What more can happen to this poor man?”

Chapter 40

Friday, August 19th, 10:59 AM

DR. BORIS HOFFMAN showed the weird little man out of his
office and shut the door. He had seen some strange patients, but this guy
fidgeted and squirmed for the last half hour, and was really starting to get on
his nerves.

He wondered why he had ever gotten into this business. He
knew he wasn’t a very good psychiatrist. He just pretended to listen to the
lunatics as they ranted, then offer some useless advice, and prescribe some
medicine. And for that, he got paid.

The thought was rather funny, but he didn’t feel much like
laughing right now. He had other things to think about. More important than the
retards he had to see every day.

That nut-job was his last patient for the morning, so he
dropped on the couch and flicked on the small overhead television.

Channel 7 Action News was just coming on.

The barbie-doll news anchor said, “The body of a woman was
discovered this morning in Richmond Valley Park. Here’s Lisa Krunk with the
story.”

Hoffman’s attention was caught.

The view switched to a close-up of Lisa Krunk.

“I’m standing here in Richmond Valley Park where a woman was
found murdered, her throat slit.”

The camera panned across the park and zoomed into an area
near the wading pool. Lisa continued talking. “Police have cordoned off the
crime scene and are currently investigating.”

Hoffman sat forward, intensely interested now.

Lisa continued, “I talked to Detective Corning who said
police had little information at this point, and the victim has yet to be
identified.”

The camera view now showed a different angle. The body could
be seen from a distance of about twenty feet. Hoffman could see a red floppy
hat on the ground near the victim. She was also wearing a red jacket.

Hoffman swore, and cursed Tommy Salamander.

The camera back on Lisa, she said, “Sources have indicated
to me there may be a connection to the murder of Vera Blackley, the woman whose
body was discovered in a dumpster yesterday afternoon.”

Hoffman recognized Jake Lincoln when the camera showed his
face. Jake said, “It’s too early to tell. There may, or may not, be any
relation to something we are working on now.”

The camera view switched, and Lisa’s wide mouth flapped
again, “The body was discovered by a French tourist, apparently staying in the
city for a few days.”

A view of a man in a jogging outfit. “Sir, I understand you
found the body?”

The man shook his head. “No English,” he said, as he turned
and jogged away.

Hoffman was on his feet now, angry.

Lisa Krunk said, “We will bring you breaking news as it happens.
In an exclusive report, I’m Lisa Krunk, for Channel 7 Action News.”

Hoffman switched off the TV and paced the floor, back and
forth, cursing and thinking. What had that idiot done? Things were bad enough
now, and this would only make things hotter.

He went behind his desk and swept up the telephone. He
dialed, it rang, and in a moment, “Yeah?”

“Tommy, what did you do, you idiot?”

“Hey Unc. What’s up?”

Hoffman raised his voice. “You fool. Why did you kill her?”

“Relax Uncle. They’ll never figure out who did it. Besides,
I was just protecting you. She was a threat to both of us.” Tommy laughed. “And
now, she’s not.”

Hoffman lowered his voice. His secretary was in the outer
office. It wouldn’t do to have her hear. “I told you to just get the note, and then
scare her.”

“Oh sure, Unc. And then she would have gone straight to the
police. With the letter. She was a little smarter than she seemed. That’s why
she just brought a photocopy. She was up to something.”

Hoffman hesitated. Tommy may be right. At least, Tommy was
the one who killed her. If investigators were able to find any evidence, then
Tommy was the one it would lead to, not him.

Hopefully, he would be in the clear. And with the real note
destroyed, there was nothing to link him to any of this.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep your mouth shut about this.”

“No probs.”

“I mean it. Don’t tell a soul.”

“Of course not. Why would I?”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

Tommy was quiet for a moment. The line hissed, and then he
said, “I’ll see you this afternoon for my payment.”

“Hoffman sighed. “All right.” He slammed the phone down and
cursed again.

Friday, August 19th, 11:03 AM

HANK STEPPED from the crowded lobby, into the elevator, and
pressed the button for the second floor. The door hissed, his stomach jumped, another
hiss, and the elevator dropped him into a quiet hallway.

He moved down the passageway and stopped in front of a door.
A sign said, ‘Ring and Come In’, so he depressed the buzzer and opened the
door.

Philip Macy stepped out of an office behind the reception
area and came toward him. He looked haggard, his face showing the strain of the
last few days.

And now, he will hear more bad news.

“Good morning, Detective,” Philip said in a lifeless tone.

They shook hands and Hank asked, “Can we sit and talk a moment?”

Philip turned, beckoning Hank to follow, and they went into
Philip’s office. Philip dropped into his chair behind the desk, as Hank sat in
the guest chair, leaning forward, his arms resting on the desk.

The room wasn’t exactly a mess, but things seemed to be
uneasily disorganized. Work piling up and abandoned, bits of dust beginning to
gather, with a stale smell of not enough fresh air.

Hank looked carefully at Philip. His arms were resting on
the armrests of his chair, his hands clasped together, fidgeting restlessly
with his fingers. He looked tired, and needed a shave.

“I’m afraid I have some more bad news,” Hank said.

Philip’s expression didn’t change as he waited for Hank to
continue.

“It’s about Samantha,” Hank said. “I’m afraid she has been found...
dead.”

Hank studied Philip Macy. Philip stared back as if he forgot
Hank was there, and then dropped his head, his breath shooting out. He fell
forward onto the desk, his head in his hands.

“I’m very sorry,” Hank said.

Philip didn’t move. The sound of his rapid breathing was all
that could be heard. Finally, he lifted his head and looked blankly at Hank. “What
happened?”

“She was murdered.”

“Murdered?” Philip groaned. “Murdered?” The color drained
from his face.

Hank nodded.

“Do you know who did it?” Philip asked as he sat up. His
hands were shaking.

Hank shook his head. “Not yet.” Jake always hated this part.
Hated having to be the bearer of bad news. Samantha Riggs and Philip Macy weren’t
related, but she had worked for him for some time. “Do you know if she had any
family?” he asked.

“I don’t believe there’s anyone locally. She has a mother
she had mentioned from time to time. I believe she’s out west, but that’s all I
know.”

“Would you know how I could contact her?”

Philip shook his head. “I don’t have any information on her.”

“It’s alright,” Hank said. “I can find it.”

Philip Macy spoke, his eyes on the ceiling. “Her and Abby...
were very close.” When he looked back down at Hank, a tear or two escaped. He
wiped them away and cleared his throat.

“Mr. Macy, do you have Samantha’s address?”

Philip turned toward his monitor, and his shaking fingers
tapped a few keys on the keyboard. “33 Albert Street, apartment 202.”

Hank found his notepad and pen in an inner pocket and jotted
the information down. “I’ll need to check her place, just in case.”

Philip nodded.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Hank asked, concern in
his voice.

“Just find out who did this,” Philip said. His voice was
weak. He appeared about to collapse as he swung around and slid open a door in
the wall unit behind him. He removed a bottle of Scotch whisky and a glass,
turned back and set them on the desk. He smiled weakly. “I keep this for
clients, but...” He poured a double and gulped it, catching his breath. He
poured another and sat back, closing his eyes.

Hank didn’t want to leave him alone. He was in bad
condition, and he feared what might happen, or what he might do. “Do you want
to come with me to Miss Riggs apartment?” he asked.

Philip thought a moment before lowering his head and
nodding. “Yes. I’m sure I won’t be of much help to you, but I really need to
get out of here now.” He downed the rest of his Scotch and set the glass down
quietly. “Yes,” he repeated. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Hank stood and waited, watching Philip as he spun around,
put the alcohol and glass back into the unit, and rose to his feet. Philip took
a deep breath. “Let’s go,” he said.

Chapter 41

Friday, August 19th, 11:45 AM

ANDERSON BLACKLEY sat quietly in the holding cell beneath
the Richmond Hill police precinct. The smell of fear, despair, and stale human
sweat surrounded him. He was tired, and he needed sleep. The iron bench in his
small cage was cold, and the occasional curse, or insane yells from adjoining
cells, hadn’t allowed any sleep.

He was scheduled to be arraigned this morning. His lawyer
had been to see him, and had no good news. The crown was going ahead with the
arraignment as planned, and he had been told by Shorn not to expect the judge
to allow bail.

He’d had a lot of time to think. About Vera, his so-called
marriage, and the events that led to his incarceration. He had been set up
pretty good. Whoever had killed Vera, and framed him, was out there somewhere,
and his only hope now was the Lincolns.

He looked up as he heard footsteps approaching his cage. It
was Shorn accompanied by a deputy. They were taking him to see the judge now.
He stood slowly to his feet, fearful and uneasy about his future.

The door buzzed, and the deputy squeaked it open.

Shorn was smiling faintly as he stepped in. “You’re free,”
he said.

Blackley raised his brows. All he said was, “Free?”

Shorn nodded. “The crown has withdrawn the charges. You’re
free to go.”

Blackley’s mouth fell open. He stared in unbelief, and then
a wide grin split his face. He threw his arms around Shorn, and then stepped
back and pumped his hand.

“You have a few papers to sign first,” Shorn said, “and then
we can leave.”

Blackley stepped from the cell and followed Shorn and the
deputy to the central control room outside of the holding area.

“Sign here, and here,” a deputy said, pointing to a pair of
x’s on the bottom of two sheets of paper. Blackley signed and the deputy dumped
out a bag in front of him. It contained his wallet, belt, cell phone, watch,
and a few coins.

He slipped his belt and watch on, stuffed the rest in his
pocket, and turned to Shorn. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You’ll need this too,” the deputy said, handing him a piece
of paper. Blackley glanced at it. It was a release form for his vehicle,
allowing him to pick it up at the pound. He took the paper, folded it, and
tucked it in his breast pocket.

Suddenly moving from despair and uncertainty, to freedom,
filled him with a strange elation. Like he had a whole new life. He took a deep
breath of the warm fresh air as they stepped outside the front doors of the
building. He turned to Shorn. “So fill me in. What’s going on?” he asked.

Shorn looked at him with a smile. “The thing that was going
to condemn you, is the thing that set you free.”

“Oh?”

“The hammer. The most damning piece of evidence suddenly
became irrelevant. Since there was no evidence it had been used on Vera, there
was zero proof it was even involved. The rest was circumstantial, and the crown
determined it was not enough to prove guilt.”