Murder.Com (7 page)

*****

     
That night, as Ken and Sandy lay in bed, Sandy put her arm across her husband's chest.
 
"Why do I have this feeling you know Melinda?"

     
Ken turned over, his back toward his wife.
 
"Because, I do know who she is."

     
Sandy raised up on her elbow.
 
"Then why did you lie to Angie?"

     
"Do you think it would have been a good time to tell her that Melinda is Bud's illegitimate child?"

     
Sandy's mouth dropped open.
 
"Oh my God!"

     
Ken rolled to his back.
 
"Keep your mouth shut for now and let's hope she keeps away from Angie."

Chapter Six

     
After testifying in a drug-related trial, Tom walked out of the courthouse with the district attorney.
 
"If that son-of-a-bitch gets off again with no more than a slap on the wrist, it's going to make me wonder about our court system."

     
The district attorney nodded and waved a hand in the air.
 
"We've done all we can.
 
Let's hope the jury has the balls to nail him."

     
The two men parted ways in the parking lot and Tom drove back to the station.
 
A report from the Coroner's Office lay on his desk.
 
He loosened his tie and sat down.
 
A red stamp proclaiming,
 
"Incomplete Report" sullied the top of the page.
 
He fingered the corner of the paper as his eyes scanned past the technical information and settled on the neatly typed lines.

With the use of dental and medical records, it has been determined that the burn victim in Case #40567 is Bud L. Nevers, the owner of said vehicle.
 
Verification of the cause of death may take several days.

     
Tom tapped the paper with his finger.
 
Many times, in his line of work he'd had to relay bad news.
 
But this time his stomach tightened and his breathing came in ragged spurts.
 
Several things nagged at his mind, but he couldn't put his finger on any one of them just yet.
 
Something just smelled fishy.
 
He'd wait for the full report on Bud's death before he really dug in.

     
He folded the report and slipped it into the inside breast pocket of his jacket, next to his cigar.
 
His first mission would be to visit Angie.
 
She had it in her head that Bud wasn't the victim.
 
How would she take this news?
 
He might as well find out now.

     
Angie managed to drag herself out of bed at ten o'clock.
 
If it weren't for the tranquilizer, she wouldn't have slept at all.
 
She hated taking pills with a passion, but knew she needed the rest.
 
Even with a good night's sleep, she didn't want to wake up and face the day alone.
 
She knew she couldn't allow herself to succumb to these feelings, so she showered and dressed.

     
She felt better after eating and hauled the stack of mail that had been neglected for several days into the breakfast nook.
 
The window overlooked the Santa Clara Valley, where a beautiful autumn day met her gaze.
 
Dragging a small wastebasket over to the table, she started sorting through the mail, tossing advertising fliers and junk into the trash.
 
She finally got it weeded down to bills and personal mail.
 
A small white envelope, hand-addressed to Bud, caught her attention.
 
No return address appeared on the outside, but the postmark indicated it had come from San Francisco.
 
By habit she started to set it aside, since she and Bud never opened each other's private mail.
 
Then she stopped, took a deep breath and picked it up.
 
That didn't apply anymore.
 
Reluctantly, she slit the edge with the letter opener.
 
But just as she started to pull out the sheet of paper, the phone rang and Marty brought the cordless to her.

     
"Detective Hoffman would like to speak to you."

     
She dropped the envelope onto the table and took the phone.
 
When Marty didn't move away, Angie glanced up and noticed her staring at the table.
 
"Is something wrong?"

     
Marty shook her head and stepped back.
 
"Uh, no.
 
Sorry, I've just got a lot of things on my mind."
 
She turned on her heel and hurried from the room.

     
After speaking with Tom, Angie crossed into the kitchen where she punched the button on the controls that opened the gate.
 
She dashed up the stairs to freshen her face and hair.
 
She called to Marty.
 
"Mr. Hoffman is on his way.
 
I've already opened the gate."

     
A dustcloth in her hand, Marty poked her head out of the study.
 
"I'll put on some fresh coffee."
 
Out of the corner of her eye, Angie saw a blur as Marty hurried into the kitchen.

     
Marty quickly put on the fresh pot, glanced up the stairwell, then went into the breakfast nook where the mail still lay strewn across the table.
 
She glanced nervously over her shoulder while slipping the small white envelope into her apron pocket, then shuffled the rest of the mail around on the table.

     
Within minutes, Tom Hoffman's dark-blue Buick crested the hill.
 
Angie led him into the study, followed by Marty carrying a tray with a carafe of coffee and two mugs, which she placed on the large oak coffee table.
 
After Marty left the room, Angie sensed Tom's uneasiness and her stomach churned as she sat down in the big leather chair and watched him pull a folded white sheet of paper from his pocket.
 
She sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her hands clenched tightly together.

     
He stood looking down at her, his expression solemn.
 
"Maybe you should have Marty stay."

     
Fear filled her.
 
"No, Tom.
 
Whatever it is you have to tell me, I'll be able to handle it."

     
He sat down on the couch opposite her and cleared his throat.
 
"I received this preliminary report from the coroner's today.
 
Do you want me to read it to you or do you want to read it in private?"

     
She felt the blood leaving her face.
 
"No, you go ahead."

     
After he finished, he placed the paper on the coffee table.
 
"This is the hardest thing in the world for me to say, Angie.
 
Bud's dead."

     
She stood, placing both hands over her ears.
 
The room spun as Tom's voice echoed through the air.
 
"No! No! It can't be.
 
It wasn't him."
 
Tears streamed down her cheeks.

     
Tom grabbed her before she fell, and called out.
 
"Marty, get in here.
 
I need you at once."

     
Marty dashed into the room and helped Tom get Angie situated on the couch.
 
"I'll call Dr. Parker."
 
She turned to leave the room, but Angie grabbed her hand.

     
"No.
 
I'm going to be all right," she sobbed.
 
"Just give me a few minutes."

     
Tom stood next to Marty as Angie collected herself, dabbing her eyes and smoothing back her hair.
 
She glanced up at them.
 
"I think I knew all along."
 
Her voice caught.
 
"I just didn't want to admit it."

     
Marty knelt beside her, tears welling in her eyes.
 
"Oh, Mrs. Nevers, I'm so sorry."

     
Leaving them in privacy, Tom went to the kitchen as the two women embraced.
 
He rummaged the cabinet until he found another coffee mug and poured himself some coffee from the urn.
 
He pulled his cigar from his breast pocket and started to step outside just as Marty came into the kitchen wiping her cheeks.

     
"Mrs. Nevers wants to see you."

     
He pushed the cigar back into his pocket and hurried into the study where he sat down beside Angie.

     
She held the report in trembling hands.
 
"Tom, the coroner said it would take a while to find the cause of death."

     
"Yes, that's true."

     
She ducked her head and whispered.
 
"What do they mean?
 
Didn't he just burn up?"

     
"It appears that way.
 
But they will check to make sure."

     
Angie stared at him wide-eyed.
 
"You think there could have been foul play?"

     
Not meeting her stare, he stood and turned away.
 
"Anything's possible."

     
"Tom, there's something wrong about this.
 
Bud knew that road like the back of his hand.
 
That's why I felt it couldn't have been him inside that car."

     
Rubbing the back of his neck, he sat in the chair opposite her.
 
"Angie, I don't know what to think.
 
If he'd been drinking, his judgment could have been impaired."

     
She shook her head.
 
"I've never known Bud to drink and drive."

     
He raised his hands palms up.
 
"I don't know.
 
We'll have to wait for the coroner's final report."

     
Marty brought in another hot carafe of coffee.

     
Angie's knuckles turned white as she clasped her fingers around the cup.
 
She waited until Marty left the room, then glanced at Tom.
 
"I want you to be honest with me."

     
He took a sip of the hot brew, then blew across the cup.
 
"Okay."

     
"What are the chances that Bud was murdered?"

     
Shifting in his seat, he adjusted his jacket.
 
"Why would anyone want to murder him?"

     
Her gaze met his.
 
"There's one thing I didn't tell you, because I wanted to speak to Ken first."

     
His interest piqued, he leaned forward.
 
"What's that?"

     
"At our anniversary party, a young woman came to our door, apologized for being late and asked for Bud.
 
I'd never seen her before in my life and knew she hadn't been invited."

     
"So, what did you do?

     
"I asked her name, then had her stand inside the door while I got Bud."

     
"Did he know her?"
 

     
"He seemed taken aback when I mentioned her name was Melinda.
 
He hurried to the door and took her out onto the porch.
 
When he didn't come back inside for several minutes, I went outside and found him standing alone, staring into the darkness.
 
I asked where she'd gone and he told me she'd left."

     
"He didn't give you some hint of what she wanted?"

     
Angie shook her head.
 
"He hustled me back in the house to take care of the guests.
 
Then the next day, the school bus accident happened and the whole week turned chaotic."
 
She sucked in her breath.
 
"When I noticed his changed attitude, I decided to talk to him about her the following Saturday."