Forget Me Not: A Novel (Crossroads Crisis Center) (37 page)

“I’ll be right behind you. Just want to touch base with Jeff Meyers first.”

“We’ll meet you there, then.” Ben headed straight for the front door. “Kelly, let’s go.”

She turned to Mark. “Do you have everything you need until someone gets here?”

“I’ll be fine, Kelly. Jeff’s ten minutes away. Thanks.”

“Be careful.”

Mark gave her a friendly wink, and she headed out to Ben’s SUV.

“You okay?” Ben asked, opening her car door.

She waited until he got inside, then reached for his hand. “Ben, I’ve got a bad, bad feeling about all this.”

“Yeah, so do I.”

Kelly entered Crossroads and paused to talk to Doris and Mel. “Everything okay?”

“I’ve been doing some filing for Mel,” Doris said. “We’re fine, but you look scared to death.”

She was. “No, I’m okay.” Okay? Had she really said that? Ben on the proverbial fence; her future, if no longer life, still pretty much a mystery; and that pool at Aunt Beth’s. People were out to kill her; Chessman or NINA surely would, if given the chance. Nothing was okay or fine.

But she was upright and fighting to sort it all out, and Ben didn’t doubt her anymore about Chessman being dirty. There was solace in that, and knowing the root of that solace stemmed from her faith, she wondered how Ben could handle all this mess with his faith in remission.

On that issue, remission rested much easier on her soul than denial. If the need arose, she’d deal with it later, after they’d resolved some of these other issues. But, oh, it was significant to her, and it just had to be resolved.

Peggy came into the reception area. “Kelly, Harvey and Lisa are in the conference room with the envelope. We’re all waiting for you to come open it.”

Kelly, Peggy, and Doris went back to the conference room. Ben was already there with Harvey and Lisa, sitting at the long table. The envelope was in front of the chair she’d sat in the last time they’d met. “Should I wear gloves?”

“Oh yes.” Peggy sprang from a seat and returned with a pair of gloves. She passed them to Kelly. “I should have thought of that.”

“It’s okay,” Harvey assured her. “I ran it through the paces.”

“An equipment gift from Gregory Chessman.” Ben groaned. “Double up on the gloves.”

“Why? What’s wrong with a gift from Gregory?” Harvey asked.

“Later.” Ben motioned to Kelly. “Go ahead.”

She put on the gloves, then used the letter opener to slice open the envelope and looked inside. Paper and photos. She dumped them out on the table. “No one touch them. If there are fingerprints and they’re important, we don’t want to mess them up.”

Touching only the least bit of the edges, she flipped the photos and lined them up in a row on the tabletop.

Mark Taylor walked in, and Ben came around the table to stand beside Kelly. “Gregory Chessman’s dinner party.” Ben looked at her. “I was there.”

Doris let out an odd noise. “That’s Mr. Denham.”

“He’s a lawyer from Atlanta,” Ben said. “We talked.” He pointed to the photo. “That’s me—well, my sleeve—there beside him.”

Kelly looked closely. “It is him.”

“Who is he?” Peggy Crane asked.

“My financial advisor,” Kelly said. “He was my trustee and then my guardian.”

“Your guardian is connected to Chessman?”

“Apparently. He’s at Chessman’s table.” She glanced at Ben. “When was this dinner?”

“A few days ago.”

“But that’s impossible,” Doris said. “Mr. Denham has been in Europe for weeks.”

Ben cocked his head. “He might be in Europe now, but he was at Gregory Chessman’s dinner party then.”

That triggered Kelly’s memory. “I talked to him not fifteen minutes before the carjacking.”

“Was it a foreign call?” Harvey asked.

“It was his cell number.” Kelly shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“He could be forwarding from anywhere,” Mark said.

“So what is this person trying to tell me with all this?” Kelly couldn’t figure it out. She looked to the next photo and gasped. “That’s him, Ben.” She pointed. “One of the carjackers.”

Mark bent over and took a hard look. “His name is Edward Johnson.
He and his partner, Harry Donaldson, were killed in a car explosion this morning.” He paused. “Well, that might not prove exactly accurate.”

Harvey rocked forward in his chair. “How can that not be accurate? They’re either dead or they’re not.”

“Oh, they’re dead,” Mark said. “Edward was behind the wheel in his car. Someone rigged explosives to the starter. But Harry’s body was found in the trunk. Jeff Meyers spotted a bullet hole in Harry’s forehead. They’re assuming it was Harry, anyway, since the car blew up in his yard and someone bled a lot on his bed. Splatter pattern suggests it was a gunshot, but they’re still sorting it all out.”

“What does the note say?” Lisa asked.

Kelly opened the folded page and read. “‘If you are reading this, it means I am dead.’”

Ben turned to Peggy. “How did this get here?”

“The Shipping Store messenger brought it. Carl.”

“I’ve already quizzed him,” Harvey told the group. “He couldn’t really describe the man who’d brought it in, but my money’s on Paul Johnson.”

“Why?” Mark asked.

“Two reasons,” Harvey said. “Edward was already dead, so he couldn’t have brought it in. And because Carl said the man told him it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to walk it down because it was an anonymous gift from Mr. Chessman. Who else but Paul Johnson would handle something like that for Gregory?”

Kelly looked at Ben. “A lot of roads are taking us right to him.”

“Yes, they are.” Ben looked back at the note.

“But why would Paul Johnson say that unless he wanted this connected to Chessman?”

“He wouldn’t.” Ben frowned. ““What else does the note say? Anything?”

“No, that’s it,” Kelly said. “Wait. There’s a second page. It was stuck.”
She peeled the clinging pages apart and read what was written on it out loud. “Beach house. Tonight. Ten o’clock. Heavily armed. Call in FBI. You must stop them. Severe national consequences.”

“Ouch.” Lisa grimaced. “That sounds really bad.” Her cell phone chimed. She looked at the number and grumbled. “Excuse me.” Shoulders bent, she left the room.

From the looks around the table watching her departure, the caller had to be either her harassing stepfather or her conflicted mother.
Bless Lisa’s heart
.

Mark asked Peggy, “Is Dutch still harassing her? Even with the restraining order?”

“Not as much. Just when he gets tanked up or Annie is slow to do something he wants her to do.” Peggy glanced at Kelly. “Annie is Lisa’s mother.”

Kelly nodded, noting Mark’s special interest in Lisa. It seemed Peggy was fostering it too.

Mark’s frown was fierce. “We have to do something about that man.”

“We will. But one problem at a time, okay?” Peggy fanned a hand down the table. “So what does all this mean?”

“Whatever this is, it’s out of our league.” Bent doubled over the photos, Kelly slid a worried look to Ben. “It’s time to call in the FBI.”

Mumbles of agreement sounded from everyone at the table.

“If you don’t want to ruffle feathers, Ben,” Mark said, “better call the locals and let them call in reinforcements. They get touchy about anyone invading their turf uninvited.”

Ben agreed, and then made the call.

Paul had watched Carl the messenger walk down the block to deliver the envelope promptly at three. He could be trusted, and Paul made a mental note of that.

Then he’d waited until he’d seen Kelly and Ben return to Crossroads. Minutes later, Mark Taylor arrived. Where they’d been, Paul didn’t know. He hadn’t been able to trail them all day. When they all came to the center, however, he knew all was well. They’d get the message in time to coordinate the bust.

Paul flipped open his phone and called Chessman. He was either at or watching a ball game. “Hello, sir.”

“Get your business done?”

“Absolutely.” More than the man could ever imagine. He’d be in prison at least forty years. Maybe longer. Of course, he’d be dead before then, but regardless, his days of a life of luxury were nearly at an end.

“Are you calling for a reason? I’m a bit busy.”

“Sorry to intrude, sir. You asked me to let you know when the mayor returned. He isn’t yet officially back, but Mrs. Green is out and about, so unless they traveled separately, I’d say the mayor is back in the village.”

“Thank you, Paul. Anything else?”

“No sir.”

“See you at ten sharp.”

“Yes sir.”

He shouldn’t have betrayed Paul Johnson. No one set him up to take the fall.

Soon, Gregory Chessman would learn the penalty for that, and he would pay it.

Gregory hung up the phone, dialed John’s personal business number, then texted him yet another message: T
HIRD CONTACT ATTEMPT
. O
N SCHEDULE
. T
RANSPORT POSITIONED
. F
INAL COUNT TWELVE
. A
CKNOWLEDGE RECEIPT OF THIS MESSAGE
.

Extremely irritating thing for a secret partner to do, ignoring messages—particularly at this critical time. If his cooperation wasn’t crucial—his trophy wife, the airhead, who owned the Crestburg Airport—then Gregory would drop John Green so fast his head would spin. He’d been a solid partner, at times perfect. But mayor or not, his lack of professionalism on this shipment was dangerous and annoying.

Gregory didn’t like being annoyed. Especially on shipment nights …

D
etective Meyers stashed Ben, Kelly, and Mark across the street from the beach house. “Watch that water hose,” Meyers told Kelly. “Don’t trip.”

Kelly stepped over the hose snaking across the lawn and followed Ben and Mark onto the porch. “Won’t these people mind us being here?”

“They’re seasonal,” Jeff said. “No one’s here this time of year.”

“Jeff,” Mark said from behind her, “I still don’t like the idea of Kelly being out here. We have no idea—”

“I’m fine.”

“You can’t know that.” Ben stepped closer, protectively clasping her hand.

Jeff swiped at his pug nose. “I had no choice, Mark. The mayor isn’t back from New Orleans yet—still out of reach—which is an advantage, considering we’re keeping him out of the loop on this. But Kelly summoning us here is all that’s saving us and the FBI from issues with authorization. We could do it without her, but the timing could be problematic.”