One Deadly Sister (Sandy Reid Mystery Series #1) (10 page)

“Too bad it was after visiting hours,” the officer said.

“Visitors, I can have visitors?”

“Yeah, you’ll be cuffed while you’re out of the cell, but yeah we take you up to the visiting room.”

A visitor would be comforting. He could use some of that. No doubt, the visitor would be some official with a form to fill out or the bearer of more bad news. “Well, who was it? What did she look like?”

“Don’t know, wasn’t there. Some guy upstairs said she was a looker.”

“A young looker or an old looker?”

“Didn’t say.”

His first visitor. Who would want to visit the town pariah? What he needed was a magical visitor, young or old, that could get him out of there. A young looker described Tammy who thought he was a nut, so it wouldn’t be her. An old looker would be Loraine. He’d love to confront her, but she wouldn’t dare show up.

Who else is there?

T
uesday morning, three days after the murder, Ray woke up wondering about the woman turned away after visiting hours yesterday. Would she come back? He skipped the breakfast tray except for the coffee and eagerly awaited the jailer. At last, visiting hours. The jailer secured the handcuffs and escorted him to the visiting room.

She sat on one side of a long steel table in the sparsely furnished room. Against the wall, an officer sat on a high stool, and a sergeant was at a small desk positioned at the main door. Of course, Ray recognized her: the friendly stockbroker from the office, the party hostess, the one with short blond hair, Meg—what was her last name?

“Great that you came to see me. So, you bring greetings from the office, I guess.” He was smiling for the first time since being jailed.

“Greetings from only me, I’m afraid. The company regrets ever hearing of you. I hate to tell you, your boss has the word from upstairs. Embarrassment to the corporation must end. You’ll be fired as soon as they can legally cover their butts.”

“They sent you here to tell me that?”

“God, no. I’m on my own. I thought someone should let you know what was happening. Too bad I accidentally got you involved with the murder victim’s ex-wife at my party. Did you notice I never introduced you to Loraine? I never dreamed she’d try to hook up with anyone, especially not you. I told her to bring a friend. She showed up alone and jumped on you as if you were the last train out of town. She was on the hunt, so she brought out the big guns. Don’t tell me her short green dress with that neckline didn’t do a job on you.”

“You should have marked her with skull and crossbones. None of it was your fault. You didn’t know Towson would be shot, and I didn’t know that I was walking out the door with his ex.”

“All the people at the party saw you two leave. Now they know Loraine slept with the guy who shot her ex. I’m assuming you slept with her...none of my business. When that juicy tidbit filters into the community at large it’s not going to help your case.”

“You’re quite the sales person, aren’t you? You just told me my job and my life are doomed, and I’m sitting here grinning eager for any more bad news just to hear you talk.”

“I could sell water to a drowning man.”

“Good that you’re so successful at something you like to do. All your buy and sell tickets come across my desk, I know you’re good.”

“Not successful every time. I’ve been working on a personal scheme for about a month now, trying to get a particular idea into a certain guy’s head. It’s not working. I can’t seem to get the pitch right. He’s ignoring me.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll win him over eventually. You have a marvelous appearance and a dynamite personality. I hope I thanked you at the party for inviting me.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly go on and on about it.” Her mood seemed to change. She shook her head slightly and stood to leave. “Must run, I’m supposed to be out making calls this morning. But I wanted to see you.”

“You’re my only visitor so far. Thanks for coming.”

“Ray, I know you’re innocent. It’s horrible you’re in this mess. I want you to know there are people who truly like you and are pulling for you. I want to be your friend.”

“Well, I appreciate that.”

“No, you don’t, but you will someday.” She turned and left.

He started to get up when the officer put a hand on his shoulder. “Sit right there, you have another visitor.”

He looked over to see his sister charge through the door. Was that really her?

She signed in at the sergeant’s desk and then strode across the room with a briefcase tucked under her arm like a shotgun.

She gave her brother a half-hearted wave and declared, “Okay, I’m here. Geez, orange really isn’t your color. And you’re still wearing those dumb glasses.”

They had known each other as adults and used to see each other a few times a year on holidays and such, invariably at their parent’s house, before they died in an auto accident six years ago. Although they both lived in Philadelphia, their last physical contact had been at the funeral. At first, Sandy would occasionally phone him, and twice she invited him to dinner parties. There was always some scheduling conflict, and he was never able to make it.

Now in her late twenties, she had changed. This wasn’t the sister he remembered. She seemed sharper, poised and confident. She wore her brown hair quite short, and just then it was swished around in sassy disorder. A slight ribbon of midriff peeked between her sleeveless white blouse and knee-length denim skirt.

His eyes were still wide open. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“God knows why I’m here, I certainly don’t.”

“I’m really pleased. Sis, you’re really—.”

She threw him a bored look and interrupted, “Don’t call me, Sis. Don’t
ever
call me, Sis.” She smiled apathetically. “Other than being arrested and facing execution, how do you like Florida?”

“Dad and I loved your humor,” he said. “We’d fall off our chairs and mom never got it. I should phone you just to get a laugh.”

“You’re talking about earlier, before you finked me out to the cops for supposedly doing drugs.”

“I didn’t report you, mom did. She called some teen hotline. That started it.”

“Geez Louise, you ratted me out to mom and I landed in juvie rehab!”

“Wasn’t like that. I was leaving for college, and my little sister was doing her best to ruin her life. I was worried about you. I thought if mom were aware of what was going on, the family could talk about it. But she imagined you acting out scenes from
Reefer Madness.
She wigged out, called Juvenile Hall or someplace.”

“Okay, so I was kind of bent, did a little grass, maybe some pills. Nothing heavy. I tried some junk because it was new. Something to do.”

“You couldn’t wait to be eighteen. I was afraid you’d never make it. You stole from mom’s purse, tried to be a mall chick, boosted junk, smoke and drank. Even stole a car and wrecked it.”

“I didn’t steal that car. Okay, I did wreck it...not on purpose. Butchie Cooper couldn’t make out with me, so his smooth-talking old daddy thought he’d give it a try. He thought I’d be thrilled and express my gratitude, if he let me drive his brand new shiny silver Buick. So, I drove his brand new shiny silver Buick. The crash was the only thrilling part. He lost interest in me fast. Anyway, I was just a kid. Old lechers must look out for themselves.”

“You tried to win acceptance from some trashy older girls or whoever your model was.”

“
You
were my model. I was dying to be like my big brother. You were so cool, so self-assured and so independent. I couldn’t wait to grow up so I could be just like you.”

“I was in a fog half the time. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You dated all the cool ones.”

“No, I didn’t. I had one girlfriend my entire junior and senior year, and she dumped me at the senior prom. Actually, she dumped me on the way to the prom. She got out at a stoplight and into another guy’s car.”

“I didn’t know that. I thought you were so totally with it.

“I guess I’m not the person you imagined.”

“Raymond, why didn’t you come visit me in that so-called juvie rehab center in West Chester they sent me to? They were releasing kids three months early, if somebody bothered to show up and claim them. Mom couldn’t deal with any of it. Try counting every hour for three months. Three extra freaking months, Raymond! Three more months doing shit work and trying to keep creepy counselors off me, because you couldn’t be bothered to stop by and sign me out.” She stared at him until he looked away. “I showed your picture to everyone there. This is my big brother, he’s really great, he’s going to come and get me out of here just as soon as he can.”

“I never dreamed it was that way.”

“Buddy you don’t know. Someone should investigate that place. Some psychology grad student set it up with a grant. It was a sham. No rehab going on there. I did ATP just once. That’s what the girls called, ‘Assume the Position.’ This one counselor took a special interest in me because I was the new stuff. That’s how they talked, ‘Did you get some of that new stuff?’ On my first turn, I stood up and kicked him hard. He couldn’t move fast enough with his pants down around his hairy ankles. I missed, but I never had to touch him. After that, whenever he looked at me that way I’d chomp my teeth together. He left me alone but made it shit-tough. That’s what your little sister was doing while you skipped down the yellow brick road.”

“A nightmare, you’re still hurting.”

“Every now and then when I’m out on my job, waiting in some law office or something, I’d use my tablet to keep track of the bastard’s whereabouts. He moved to Delaware, but I know exactly where he lives, even driven past his house. I know his wife’s name, kid’s names and where he works. If I ever get my law degree, I’m going after him...payback time. I’ve made that vow to myself for the other girls. It’s there in the back of my mind. Sort of like on my permanent to-do list: start cooking, learn French and nail that counselor.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I knew you were in that rehab place and made no effort to visit you. I was in college and facing a bunch of junk in my own life I believed was heavy. I’ve thought about you in that place over the years, but it was too late. Perhaps that’s why I’ve been avoiding you, trying to block it out, hoping I’d never have to deal with it. We’ve talked since, over the years, you never mentioned any of this.”

“You never asked one personal question about me. Geez, you talked about the weather and asked how my car was running. Every time we spoke, all you could think of was how’s the weather and how’s my damn car.”

He put his face down in his hands.

She looked down for a moment slowly shaking her head and waiting for the memories to fade away. Then she smiled and glanced around the room. “Who was the sharp-looking woman who just left?”

“Someone from the office, Meg...I can’t remember her last name. She’s trying to help me, but it looks as though I’ll be fired.”

“She is
not
just someone. That’s obvious because she’s here. Are you friends with her at the office? What does she do?”

“Stockbroker. She comes by my office every day.”

“Didn’t you notice her clothes? I recognize those slacks, Italian Prato linen, very in. I have no idea where to buy something like that, Palm Beach, I suppose.”

She motioned with her hand, and the police officer positioned by the wall first hesitated and then came over. “Officer, would you please let me see your logbook? I need the name, address and phone number of that young woman who just left here. Thank you.”

The young officer was bewildered, “Ah, I don’t think...we don’t...we’re not supposed to do that.”

Ray raised his hand and started to speak. His sister shushed him and kept going, “Just now, to get in here, I was required to write down that same information about myself. Your prisoner has a right to know who you’re permitting in here to see him. That log is a public record and it didn’t suddenly become confidential. The sergeant over there, what’s his name?”

The officer appeared panicky, as though wondering if he should disclose the sergeant’s name. “That’s...Sergeant Lewis.”

“Tell him I’d like to speak with him, please.”

Ray sat astonished. The puzzled officer called for the sergeant, who walked over. With his white hair and slight bend, he appeared to be pushing retirement age, yet was still in good shape. No doughnut paunch on that cop. She politely repeated her request.

The sergeant replied, “Miss, I see you’re from Philadelphia. We do things different in Florida.”

She gave him a courteous smile and repeated, “We do things different in Florida? Is that what you said? What’s a good-looking cop like you doing with such an old cliché? Please put me in touch with the DA immediately. You people are interfering with the defense in a capital case.”

The sergeant chuckled, “Okay, show the young lady the log book. And Miss, if you’re going to storm through Florida like a Cat 5, you should know that we don’t have District Attorneys down here. That’s what I meant by doing things differently. Florida is divided into judicial districts, each with a state attorney who does the prosecuting. Just say SA, or ASA for his assistants, and everyone will know you’re cool.”