Craving Vengeance (14 page)

“Does that upset you?”

Bethany huffed, leaned back in her chair, and
crossed her arms over her chest. “Why would it? Why would I
care?”

“I don’t know. You just seem bothered by
that.”

“Whatever,” Bethany replied with a roll of
her eyes and the attitude of a teenager who’d just been set
straight by her parents. “You brought me down here to talk about
fish?” she questioned, her tone still juvenile.

Spinelli’s eyes narrowed.
She’s getting a
little testy already.
That was quick.
Jackson’s twenty
plus years on the force really showed during times like these. Her
small frame never precluded her from getting the job done. And her
eyes. Spinelli was sure he’d confess to anything if her small dark
eyes zoned in on him the way they zoned in on the suspects. She was
a strong woman. He always admired her for that. His old partner,
Mad Dog, had told him early on to make sure to stay on her good
side. Good bosses like her were hard to come by. And though she
expected a lot from her staff, she stood behind them one hundred
percent when the shit hit the fan.

A knock sounded on the interrogation room
door. Both Jackson and Bethany’s heads turned in that direction.
Marsh poked his head in and motioned for Jackson. She stepped into
the doorway and Marsh whispered something to her.

She looked back at Bethany. “I’ll be right
back.”

Bethany shrugged.

Jackson and Marsh entered the room in which
Spinelli and Walker resided. Marsh looked like he was ready to
explode.
What did he find?

Marsh flopped a stack of papers on the table.
He fanned the stack. Yellow highlights appeared sporadically
throughout the documents.

“What are those?” Jackson asked as she placed
her finger on one of the highlighted areas.

“These are printouts of Bethany’s Internet
records. Evidently she has a hotmail email account she logs into on
occasion for personal business during work hours. She was smart
enough not to use her work email account, but evidently she’s not
smart enough to know that IT has records of all computer activity
generated by all work computers,” he shook his head, “and she’s got
a doctorate.”

“What are you trying to tell us?” Jackson
asked, cutting to the chase.

“I had IT run their keystroke search program
on Bethany’s computer to see if she had any correspondence with
‘Angelfish’ like Williams had. All the highlighted areas are just
that, emails to or from someone called ‘Angelfish.’ And just like
we found on Williams’ and Carter’s computers, the conversations
seem vague, but do reference a particular date and some specific
early morning hours, the date being February 14
^th
.”

All sound faded from Spinelli’s ears with the
exception of his thudding heart and his hissing lungs. He fought to
refill his lungs; it seemed to be a struggle. He knew going in to
Bethany’s questioning there was a good chance she was involved in
this whole mess. He’d hoped for some sort of miracle that he was
wrong. But Marsh had likely just added the final nail to the
coffin, and ultimately, he knew he was responsible for the deaths
of Rosso, Carter, Williams, and Meyers.

His dates with Bethany replayed through his
mind. They were just dates, nothing special. No flowers, no
expensive dinners, no weekends away, and no sex. He thought about
things he had said to her. He couldn’t come up with one
conversation where he’d led her to believe there was more to their
relationship than he thought.

The voices of Jackson, Marsh, and Walker
eased back into his eardrums, slowly growing louder with each
passing moment. Marsh was mumbling something about a Beta fish
being temperamental and aggressive. He went on to explain that the
females are normally shorter, have thicker bellies, less finnage,
and are less vibrant in color than the males. What the hell was he
talking about? He was a walking encyclopedia of useless
information.

“They’re also known as a Siamese Fighting
Fish. They flare out their gill plates towards other fish to show
hostility or when they feel threatened,” Marsh added.

“What does that have to do with anything?”
Spinelli asked unable to camouflage his impatience.

“Weren’t you listening? That’s what I just
explained. In her emails to ‘Angelfish’ she uses the call name of
‘Betta’ fish. I’m just saying that she probably picked that name
for a reason. It has a similar behavior pattern to her. Just like
Rosso choosing ‘Angelfish’ has a similar behavior pattern to
him.”

“Oh.”

“That’s all good and well, we’ve got her, but
none of this ties her to Meyers.”

Marsh beamed. He was on a roll. “Those
don’t,” he flipped to the last page in the small stack of papers
and tapped his finger on the final yellow highlighted section, “but
this one does.”

Simultaneously everyone leaned forward to get
a better look. Among the hundreds of characters on the page the
word “Eros” appeared highlighted in yellow.

“Eros?” Spinelli questioned

“I had Lisa in IT run their search program on
the word ‘cupid’ as well ‘Angelfish’ but nothing came up. Then for
kicks and giggles, I had Lisa run the program on ‘Eros’ and voila,
here you have it. She typed an email, yesterday, to someone going
by the name of Eros.”

Everyone continued to stare at Marsh.

“For crissake, don’t you guys know anything
about Roman or Greek mythology?”

Jackson’s toe tapping evidently urged Marsh
to enlighten them further. That was her thing; tapping her toe, and
it always seemed to work.

Marsh rolled his eyes. “In Roman mythology,
Cupid is the god of desire. His Greek counterpart is Eros,” he
paused briefly, “and just a little FYI, in case it ever comes up
again, Cupid is known in Latin as Amor.”

“Wait a minute. This morning when I asked you
about cupid you didn’t know shit.”

Marsh chuckled. “I Googled it this
afternoon.”

He’s such a smartass.

Jackson looked up at Marsh. “Is there
anything else of use in the email?”

Marsh’s smile stretched. “Just that she was
going to pick up Eros from the airport at 11:00 a.m. today.”

“Christ, she’s making this too easy. It’s
almost as if she wanted to get caught,” Jackson commented, “but how
or why did she bring him in from Nicaragua. She already pulled
together three of Shannon’s exes. Why did he agree to come?”

“I’m guessing she wanted a full-sweep.
Shannon invaded her territory, and Meyers was the only one left.
The rest of them were at her fingertips.” Walker commented as he
ran his hand over his face.

Spinelli could nearly see the wheels turning
in Walker’s head.

Walker pressed on. “She put a lot of planning
into this it must have taken weeks if not months. She staged all
the murders to take place before Shannon would arrive at work,
probably hoping she would have no alibi. But due to Meyers’ flight
time, she couldn’t get that one done before 8:00 a.m.” Walker
cocked a brow, “How do you suppose she got him to agree come here
to see Shannon?”

“Perhaps he’s the jealous type,” Marsh
interjected as he glanced at Spinelli. Shannon told us how he
didn’t seem to take her breakup seriously. “Maybe Bethany got word
to him of the seriousness of her relationship with Spinelli, and he
came home to interfere. Up until Spinelli entered the picture, she
hadn’t had any serious prospects; therefore, Meyers didn’t have to
worry about losing her while he was away. He probably figured she
was just sitting here patiently awaiting his return.”

Walker stepped toward the two-way mirror.
Spinelli shifted his gaze to the mirror as well. Bethany chewed on
her nails. Had Jackson’s extended absence from the room made her
nervous?

“I suppose that theory is possible. Let’s see
if I can get anything else out of her,” Jackson said as she grabbed
the stack of papers off the table, stuffed them into a manila
folder, and exited the room.

Spinelli, Walker, and Marsh stood with their
noses pressed against the two-way mirror. Jackson entered the
interrogation room with the folder tucked under her arm.

Bethany’s brown-eyed gaze shifted to Jackson.
She stopped chewing on her fingernails and rested her arms on the
table.

“Let’s see. Where were we? Oh yes, you were
telling me you didn’t know much about tropical fish and that you
didn’t know Dr. Joshua Meyers. Is that correct?”

Bethany sighed. “Yes, I think we’ve already
established that.” She cocked her jaw and ran her hand through her
short, brown, wispy hair. She seemed more annoyed than nervous by
the questioning.

“Pathological liar?” Spinelli questioned as
he looked at Walker and Marsh.

“Could be,” Marsh replied.

Jackson pulled the folder from under her arm
and flipped it open. She stared at the contents for a while.
Silence—an interrogation ploy.

Bethany picked at her fingernails then
resumed chewing on them.

“Maybe she’s a neurotic?” Spinelli
questioned.

“That would seem to fit. Difficulty with
relationships, functions in society as a fairly normal person, and
she always appears somewhat nervous and tense,” Marsh recapped.

“And extremely hyperactive,” Spinelli added.
“Part of what turned me off. That and the fact she always seemed so
unhappy.”

Spinelli turned his attention back to the
activity in the interrogation room.

Jackson shifted her gaze from the folder back
to Bethany. “Do you have a hotmail account?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“The question is do you have one?”

“Yes.”

“What name do you go by when you use that
account?”

Bethany rolled her eyes. “I use my name,
bdier at hotmail.com.”

“Hmm, do you use any other hotmail
accounts?”

“Nope.”

“Does anyone else have access to your office
computer?”

Bethany’s eyes widened. Her fists balled, and
she dropped them to her lap. Spinelli assumed it was a deliberate
maneuver to hide her anxiety.

“Bethany, does anyone else have access to
your office computer?” Jackson repeated.

“I don’t think so,” her voice squeaked in
reply.

Jackson pulled a paper from the folder and
set it on the table in front of Bethany. “So then likely it was you
who drafted the email to Eros, using the name of Betta?” Jackson
questioned as she pointed to the paper and returned her gaze to
meet Bethany’s.

Bethany’s eyes never wavered from Jackson.
Not once during the brief silence that followed Jackson’s question
did Bethany look down at the papers. Spinelli suspected she had no
need to.

“I think I’ll call my attorney now,” Bethany
replied through gritted teeth.

Jackson closed the file and scooped it up.
“Okay. I’ll send an officer in. He’ll take you to holding, and you
can make your call.”

* * * *

Betta tilted her head back and stared at the
ceiling while she waited for the officer to come get her. The
corners of her mouth tugged upward. She’d succeeded. Two months of
tedious planning, and it finally all came to fruition. The plan was
foolproof. Any moron could have carried it out. But she did it. She
did it herself and couldn’t have been more pleased with the
outcome. She inhaled slowly and deeply and let her breath out. She
felt cleansed. She’d rid the world of four problems.

She’d set out to make this one hell of a
Valentine’s Day for the ever famous womanizing Nick Spinelli and
his whore girlfriend, Shannon O’Hara. Even though she knew she’d
never win the heart of Nick Spinelli, the woman he loved would
surely be through with him now as well. There was no way Shannon
O’Hara would stay with a man that caused her so much grief. From
now until the end of time, every time Spinelli and O’Hara looked at
each other, they’d be reminded of their special Valentine’s
Day.

Laughter rang from Betta’s mouth. She would
have given anything to see the look on Spinelli’s face a moment ago
when realization set in that he was the cause of death of all of
Shannon’s past lovers. She’d considered poisoning him as well, but
in the end, she figured the guilt associated with the blood on his
hands was a more appropriate punishment for him. He’d need to learn
to live with this for the rest of his life. The thought warmed her
like a down quilt.

Betta rolled her eyes. Poor, sweet, innocent
Shannon. She was just as much to blame for this entire mess, all
pure and nice all the time. Nobody’s that nice. Betta’s eye
twitched. She pressed her fingers to it. It wouldn’t stop. Thoughts
of Shannon always made her eye twitch. She’d thought the day’s
events would have taken care of the involuntary annoying movement.
She shrugged.
Oh well
. She’d worry about that later.

Betta lifted her head from the back of the
chair, leaned forward, and fixed her eyes on the two-way mirror.
She wondered if Spinelli stared at her through the glass. She
wondered if he was angry with her or sad. It didn’t matter. She’d
made her point and made it quite clearly.

Her reflection in the glass faded, and Mike
Carter’s light brown eyes suddenly stared back at her. Mike had
sad, desperate eyes. They looked nothing now as they’d looked in
the Prom picture Betta found on the Internet. He and Shannon stood
up on their pedestal looking all smug, like they were some sort of
special couple, just because they’d made the court. Facebook made
it so easy to find Shannon’s high school sweetheart. Betta shook
her head. When will people learn not to post so much personal
information for the world to see?
Idiots.

Mike’s new image was enough to make Betta
feel sorry for him. Poor guy, lost his job and had to resort to
selling himself for bread and butter. Betta smiled. Adrenaline shot
through her veins. Mike was definitely worth the $2,000 she’d paid
him. He had slow hands and quickly figured out how to push her
buttons, not just once, but twice. She’d actually considered
sparing him, figuring it was a shame to remove him from the grasp
of women. But hell, he was just a male slut selling himself.