Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 01 - Murder Off the Books (30 page)

“The house-mate,” Mac guessed. “I never had a chance to run a background check on her. But you were using Lenore’s car.”

“Sometimes. She’d do anything to help her sister–and by extension me.” Dan gave the detective a knowing look. “Lenore also volunteered to pump you for information, but you kept giving her the brush-off. Really annoyed her that her flirting had no effect on you.”

Rachel glanced from Dan to Mac. “What did she–”

Sam laughed. “I’m too young to hear this. I’m going with Carrie and Ray. We’re thinking banana splits might be needed to calm our nerves. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Rachel nodded absently at her son, then returned her gaze to Mac.

“Lenore Adams tried to–”

“There’s nothing to hear. Nothing happened,” Mac protested. “I rebuffed her advances.”

Everyone laughed and the teens headed out into the cool night air.

The O’Herlihys followed, after many hugs and promises to get together soon.

Dan yawned. “I need to go pick up a bag I left with Lily. But is it okay if I stay here tonight? I’ll take Sam to the station in the morning.”

“Of course,” Rachel responded. “But when am I going to meet Lily?”

“Soon.” Dan smiled and gave her a hug, whispering, “Don’t say anything yet, but Lily and I might be using that cruise as a honeymoon trip.”

Rachel grinned and gave him another hug before releasing him.

Dan turned towards Mac and stuck out his hand. “Thanks doesn’t seem quite enough,” he said quietly.

“Glad I could help.” Mac grasped the younger man’s hand firmly.

Finally it was just Mac and Rachel, and a snoozing Whiskey, left.

Rachel stacked the dirty plates and empty soda cans.

Mac scooped up the pizza boxes and followed her into the kitchen.

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” Rachel admonished.

“No problem. As my blessed mother always said ‘you make the mess, you clean it up’.”

“Seems like you’ve been doing that for over a week now,” Rachel said softly. “Cleaning up, I mean. I’m really sorry I was so stubborn and rude and….”

Mac put a finger to Rachel’s lips to stop the torrent of apologies, and then withdrew it quickly as the woman blushed.

He bowed slightly. “Rachel Brenner it’s been a pleasure to know you.” He offered a crooked grin, which was soon matched by a smile on Rachel’s face.

The two stood in awkward, yet comfortable silence for a moment–until a small crash broke the interlude.

Whiskey, who’d been digging through the trash, looked up guiltily, pizza crumbs on her lips.

“Well, I guess that’s the signal that I should be going,” Mac said, grabbing his dog’s collar and tugging her away from the garbage. “Come on girl, time for you to start eating dog food again.”

“It is late,” Rachel agreed. “Well, um, thank you again for everything.”

“No problem,” Mac stuttered, and then moved towards the front door.

Rachel suddenly found her feet. “How are you getting home? Jeff and Kathleen left….”

Mac looked out the front window and chuckled. “Actually they’re waiting for me outside in the car.”

“Oh, in that case….”

“Well, good night,” Mac said
. He reluctantly walked onto the front porch with Whiskey at his side.

“Right, good night.”

Rachel closed the front door, and then re-opened it immediately.

“Mr. Sullivan, Mac
….”

“Yes.” He turned around, a grin on his face.

“I was wondering…it’s just that I thought I’d go visit JJ tomorrow and….”

“I was going to go too,” Mac said quickly.

“So if your bug-mobile is out of commission and Jeff doesn’t have a hearse to spare….” Rachel grinned.

“I’d need a ride.” His smile matched hers. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Brenner. I’ll need a ride tomorrow if you’d be so kind.”

“Well, okay then. I’ll pick you up. What’s your address?”

“Meet me at my office. JJ gave me instructions on stuff I need to bring her.”

“After today, I certainly know where your office is located.” Rachel shook her head refusing to think about Fieldstone and her craziness any more. “10 o’clock okay?”

“Dandy,” he said, wincing at his choice of word. “See you then.”

The two stared at each other until Jeff sounded the horn. Whiskey gave a bark and bounded for the car.

She nodded towards the car. “You better go. Kathleen’s got a wedding to plan.”

“Yeah.” He grinned.

As Rachel was closing the door, she heard him call out.

“Rachel!”

She stepped outside.

“Here. I almost forgot.” He reached into his jacket pocket and took out her bracelet. “You probably want this back.”

“Thanks.” She smiled and held out her hand.

His fingers brushed hers as he placed the gold bangle on her palm. “I’m sorry if–”

Whiskey barked as she ran past them, racing though the open door and back into the house.

“Whiskey!” Mac started to go after her. “She must have caught a glimpse of the cat.”

Rachel stopped him, slipping on the bracelet. “Let them work it out. Snickers won’t hurt her too badly. Just a swipe or two across Whiskey’s nose–just enough to change her attitude about cats.”

Mac glanced anxiously in the house, but stayed outside on the porch with Rachel. “You’re pretty trusting. You think everyone can change? Even old dogs?”

“With enough time,” she grinned, and looked down at his bandaged hand, “and pain.”

Chapter
38

Rachel watched the car carrying the O’Herlihys and Mac disappear down the street, before shutting and locking the front door. Almost immediately she felt Snickers rubbed up against her ankles. “So you decided to come out of hiding? I was afraid you’d decided to leave me, too.”

The cat purred, but when Rachel reached down to pick her up, the feline scampered off, racing up the staircase.

“I know you’re tired, but I’m not ready to go to bed. We have to wait up for Sam and Dan to come home.”

Rachel sighed as she surveyed her living room. Kathleen had helped her pick up the worst of it while they waited on the pizza to be delivered, but Fieldstone’s shooting spree hadn’t done her furnishings any good. Rachel straightened a cushion on the sofa, noting the bullet hole. As she brushed her hand down the side, she felt something hard in the space between the cushion and the arm. Ray’s missing cell phone. The one they thought he’d lost at the kennel. She stuck it in her pocket, realizing that her own cell phone was still at the funeral home on Myrna’s desk.

The funeral home–she was going to have to miss another day of work. She needed to spend tomorrow visiting JJ in the hospital and finishing the endless paperwork the police department required of anyone held hostage by a serial killer. Too bad victims didn’t have the luxury of refusing to make statements.

Victims also had to sweep. Rachel could see tiny pieces of glass on the floor in the entryway. They sparkled like diamonds… Diamonds. Maybe Dan would like their grandmother’s diamond for Lily? She’d get it out of the ‘treasure chest.’ That’s how second grader Sam had described her great grandmother’s antique silver jewelry box. Most of the contents had more sentimental than monetary value, but to a little boy the brightly colored costume jewelry and the small velvet bag filled with a dozen silver dollars seemed like a pirate’s fortune. Unbeknownst to her, he’d taken it to school and displayed its contents for show and tell. The teacher, seeing the expensive diamond ring among the baubles, and correctly guessing that the class was getting an unauthorized showing, had confiscated the ‘treasure chest’ and called Rachel.

She tossed the broom to the side. “To hell with the cleaning,” Rachel announced to herself. “I’m going treasure hunting.”

***

A thump came from her bedroom and Rachel shook her head as she opened the door. She flipped the wall switch, turning on the bedside lamp. “Snickers, what are you doing? I don’t need any more messes to clean up.”

The butterscotch cat was sitting on the floor next to her cordless phone. She hissed when Rachel walked into the room.

Rachel chuckled, picking the phone up on her way to the closet. “Now I remember why I started leaving this phone downstairs. You don’t like having it on the nightstand, do you? Does it put off some kind of white noise that keeps you awake? Too bad. I don’t ever intend to be stuck up here without it again.”

She turned on the closet light and stepped inside, planning to get the ‘treasure chest’ out of the old hat box that was stored on the shelf above the clothes. She smiled, thinking that the jewelry box was safe now that Sam was more interested in dating than playing pirates.

The smell of aftershave intruded into her memories. Old Spice. There was no reason that odor should….

Light reflecting off polished steel, caught her gaze. A large knife, next to a pair of angry brown eyes.

Brown eyes staring back at her from behind the filled hangers.

Rachel screamed as she stumbled backward.

Hands followed.

Large male hands.

Basketball player hands.

***

Someone was screaming. It took her a several seconds to realize the sounds were coming from her. She knocked over the hockey stick and a stack of shoeboxes as she tried to back out of the closet.

“Bitch! You’ve been nothing but trouble. Where the hell is it?”

She finally found her voice. “What-what do you want?”

“Where is it, damn it? Where’s the damn jewelry box?”

The knife flashed at her and she batted it away with the cordless phone in her hand.

The sound of the metal scraping against the plastic made her stomach roll with nausea. In slow motion she watched the phone and the knife fall to the floor of the closet along with more shoeboxes, as the man gained his footing and she lost hers.

The hockey stick pressed into her back, as useless as it had been a week ago when she’d hidden from what she now knew was the same intruder. It wasn’t Fieldstone who had broken into her house that Sunday night; it was Joe Bryant–friendly, puppy-dog-like, Old Spice-wearing Officer Bryant.

“This is your fault,” he shouted, his large fingers pressing into her arms. “You should have gone down to the police station and signed your statement like you were supposed to.”

Rachel took in a breath and managed to gasp out the words, “Stay away from me.”

“It’s too late for that. You know who I am.”

She struggled to twist away from him, her frantic movements resulting in an avalanche of clothes and hangers burying both of them.

His fingers tangled in her hair, jerking her head towards him, as she tried to swim out of the cotton and rayon morass. “Stop it. You never do what you’re supposed to do. You told the neighbors that you were going to a conference in
New York. You weren’t supposed to be home that Sunday night, just like you weren’t supposed to be home now. This is all your fault.”

No. She was responsible for most of the mess her life had become, but not this. She wasn’t responsible for this. She swept her hands outward, searching for something to use as a weapon, her fingers finding only clothes and more clothes.

His hands found her throat.

She stared up at him as he robbed her of air. She wanted to tell him that he was blaming the wrong person. The neighbors got it wrong. Or he heard it wrong. The
Wilsons were the ones out of town that night, not her. She was just starting a new job, there were no out-of-town conferences for her.

He squeezed tighter. “I didn’t want to hurt you. Nobody ever got hurt in those other break-ins. Like I told you, smash and grab. I just wanted the jewelry; the stuff Sam showed my brother. You weren’t supposed to be home.”

Her fingers touched leather–a shoe. Blindly she struck out at him, flinching as she felt the narrow heel sink deep through tissue and then hit bone. $89 dollars on sale, never worn. Worth every cent.

***

“9-1-1, please state your emergency.”

“This is Rachel Brenner at
2587 Rittenhouse Street.” She glanced over at the closed closet door. She could hear him yelling and even with only one good eye, he’d managed to find his knife. She could see the door shaking as he stabbed at the wood.

The door was solid oak–warped but strong. He was no match for it.

Snickers jumped up on the bed beside her and she comforted the cat, even as she held Ray’s cell phone closer in order to hear over the noise Officer Bryant was making.

“State your emergency,” the operator repeated.

“This is Rachel Brenner. I have a burglar trapped in my bedroom closet. Could you send a patrol car?”

“Please stay on the line. Are you injured?”

“I’m fine.” Rachel smiled and shook her head. She was like that door. A little warped, but strong.

“I’m just fine.”

The End

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