Murder.Com (10 page)

     
She dumped several days' worth of mail onto the passenger seat and decided to sit in the car for a few minutes with the windows down while she sifted through it.
 
A hand-addressed envelope caught her eye, reminding her of the one Bud had received some time ago.
 
She stared out the window, thoughtfully gnawing on her lip, trying to recall what it had said.
 
In fact, she couldn't remember ever reading or seeing it again.
 
It must have gotten tossed into the trash.

     
Bringing her thoughts back to the letter she held in her hand, she ripped off the edge and pulled out a single sheet of folded paper.
 
She clutched her chest as she stared at the short message.

Dear Mrs. Nevers,

I need to talk to you.
 
Call this number, (605) 968-3486, between the hours of eight and ten on Thursday evenings only.
 
Don't tell anyone.
 

Melinda

     
After recovering from the shock of seeing Melinda's name at the end of the page, she turned the sheet over.
 
No last name, no return address, only a telephone number.
 
She shoved the paper back into the envelope and slipped it into her purse.
 
Driving back to the house, she pondered whether to tell Tom about this now or wait until after she had called to find out what the woman wanted.
 
She'd decide after lunch.

     
Marty made the simple sandwich look so appetizing.
 
It sat on the plate, regally speared with a long toothpick, topped with an olive.
 
A sprig of parsley adorned the side.
 
The clear soft drink sparkled, with a lime drooped over the lip and a colorful straw swimming in the middle.

     
"That looks delicious."
 
Angie said, dropping the bundle of mail on the opposite side of the table.

     
Marty studied the flyers and bulk-rate envelopes, then shook her head.
 
"If this junk mail keeps up you might have to get a bigger mailbox."

     
Angie smiled.
 
"It's definitely something to consider."

     
"Uh, Mrs. Nevers.
 
Do you need me this afternoon?"

     
Angie glanced up as she spread the napkin across her lap.
 
"As a matter of fact, no.
 
I'm going to spend the rest of the day getting the bills paid and returning calls.
 
Would you like to take off?"

     
"If you don't mind.
 
I have an errand to run.
 
But I'll be back before dinner."

     
Angie waved her hand.
 
"Don't worry about that.
 
I'll fix myself something.
 
Go run your errand and whatever else you need to do and I'll see you in the morning."

     
"Thank you."

*****

     
Marty hurried to her car.
 
She left the Nevers' property and sped toward Highway 237, making good time in the light traffic.
 
It took her less than an hour to reach the small apartment complex located at the south end of San Francisco Bay.
 
She climbed the creaky stairs to the second floor and knocked on apartment number 24, the home of Melinda Smith.

     
The long-haired blond beauty opened the door.
 
She frowned at the sight of Marty.
 
"What are you doing here?"

     
Marty shoved her way into the room, only to encounter a tanned, bare-chested young man with long brown hair, braided into a ponytail, sitting on the couch.
 
She turned and confronted Melinda.
 
"Tell him to leave.
 
We need to talk."

     
The man slipped his bare feet into a pair of sandals and stood.
 
"No problem.
 
I'll come back later."
 
He walked past Marty, gave Melinda a peck on the cheek and went out the door.

     
Melinda whirled around and put her hands on her hips.
 
"What the hell are you doing barging in on me like this?"

     
Marty sat with her back rigid on the edge of the overstuffed chair.
 
"We need to talk.
 
You're going to ruin both our lives if you continue this charade."

     
Melinda took a cigarette from a pack on the coffee table and lit it with a match.

     
Wrinkling her nose, Marty glanced up at her.
 
"If you must smoke, why don't you use a lighter instead of those horrid sulfur-smelling matches?"

     
Flopping down on the couch, Melinda blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling.
 
"Is there anything else you can find to bitch about?
 
And I'm not going to ruin our lives.
 
It can only get better."

     
Marty gripped the arms of the chair.
 
"You're going to get caught in all these lies and we'll both pay the price.
 
I'll lose my job and you'll be thrown in jail."

     
"Ha!
 
By the time I'm through, you won't have to be a slave to Mrs. Nevers.
 
You can quit that damn job and move into your own place."

     
"Melinda, please keep Mrs. Nevers out of this."

     
"She's already involved.
 
I sent her a letter.
 
She probably received it today."

     
Marty felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at her.
 
"What did you say to her?"

     
Melinda rolled her eyes.
 
"Oh, Mom, get off it.
 
She doesn't know I'm your daughter and I don't plan on telling her.
 
But™" Melinda pointed a finger at Marty, "on Thursday night, she's going to know I'm Bud's daughter."
 
With a gleam in her eye, she flicked ashes into an already brimming-full plastic ashtray on the coffee table
 
"Of course, she may already know that from the letter I sent to Bud before he died."

     
Marty glared at her. "She never read it."

     
Her daughter jumped up.
 
"How the hell would you know?"

     
"Because I have it."

     
She threw back her head, her blond hair glistening as it fell over her shoulders.
 
"How'd you get it?"

     
Marty sighed.
 
"I stole it out of a stack of mail when I recognized your handwriting."

     
"Ha!"
 
Melinda then pointed a finger at her own chest.
 
"Talking about me getting into trouble.
 
You're messing with someone else's mail.
 
That's a federal offense."

     
Ignoring her comment, Marty continued in a tight voice.
 
"What do you mean that she'll know you're Bud's daughter on Thursday night?"

     
"I told her to call me, that I had something to tell her about Bud."

     
"She'll have the number traced."

     
"So what?
 
She'll only find a pay phone."
 
Melinda let out a disgusted sigh and headed for the kitchen.
 
"You want something to drink?"

     
"No."
 
Marty leaned back in the chair, her heart aching over the coldness of her daughter's behavior.
 
The girl had no conscience.
 
Didn't care who she hurt.
 
But Marty knew that most of that blame belonged on her shoulders.
 
She'd let Melinda live a lie for years, only telling her the truth a few months ago.
 
Her so-called innocent daughter had changed overnight.
 
Marty dropped her head into her hands.
 
"I've created a she-devil," she whispered.

Chapter Nine

     
Tom sat at Bud's desk and made a call to Rubler's Janitorial Service.
 
When he hung up, he turned to Cliff who waited patiently with an elbow resting on top of the filing cabinet, a file hanging from his fingers.
 
"You were on there long enough, what'd they have to say?"

     
"They claim no one touched a thing on Bud's desk.
 
In fact, it's their policy to leave that area of any office alone.
 
They don't want anyone charging them with lost documents."

     
Cliff wiggled the folder between his fingers.
 
"Odd.
 
According to you, someone cleaned it off."

     
"Yep, in all the years I've known Bud, I'd never seen the top of this desk."
 
He raised his hands and looked at it.
 
"It's beautiful oak, too."

     
"How often do they clean this complex?"

     
"They hit the offices every night except Saturday."

     
Cliff put down the file and lifted his hat to run a hand through his hair, shoving the shock of wild hair underneath the brim of the fedora.
 
"Did they happen to notice the cleaned desk?"

     
Tom shook his head.
 
"No, they weren't allowed back into this office after Bud's death."

     
Cliff put the folder back into the file cabinet.
 
"Well, if your theory is right, someone got in here.
 
They snooped around, then wiped everything down."

     
Tom leaned back in the chair and dropped his hands to his lap.
 
"Wonder what they were looking for?"

     
"Ever get those locked files open on the computer?"

     
"No.
 
Got a man coming to do that in the morning."

     
"Well, I think you better go pick Mrs. Nevers' brain some more.
 
Now that we've got a murder on our hands, we've got to find out what happened before his death.
 
Someone had a bone to pick with him.
 
While you're doing that, I'm going to get some search warrants."

     
Tom raised a brow.
 
"Oh?
 
What are you planning to search?"

     
"Not sure just yet.
 
But I want them ready."

     
"Okay."
 
Tom chuckled.
 
"By the way, I talked with several people at the country club and many saw Bud and Ken there Saturday before and directly after their golf game.
 
But I didn't find anyone who saw either of them after twelve-thirty that afternoon."

     
"Well, so far Ken's story is holding up."
 
Cliff checked his watch.
 
"Let's say we meet here at six this evening."

     
Tom stood.
 
"Sounds good."

     
After Cliff left, Tom shrugged into his jacket, locked the office and went to the parking lot.
 
He climbed into his car, whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and placed a call to Angie.

*****

     
Angie stood looking thoughtfully out the bedroom window after Tom's call.
 
The letter from Melinda lay on the bed.
 
She'd reread it several times, trying to figure out what this woman had to tell her.
 
But her mind remained a blank.
 
When she saw the Buick crest the hill, she slipped the envelope into her dresser drawer and went downstairs.

     
Tom gave her a quick reassuring hug.
 
"You look good, Angie.
 
Glad to see you up and around."

     
"Thanks.
 
I decided to get my life back on track."

     
He furrowed his brow.
 
"I hope the questions I have to ask won't be too painful."