PENITENCE: An Andi Comstock Supernatural Mystery, Book 2 (95,893 words) (26 page)

“Enjoyed it?”

I wouldn’t say that, exactly.

“You must have given off some positive signals or he wouldn’t have kept trying.” Where had that come from?

It’s…possible.
He grunted.
You sure you’ve never lived over here where everyone knows everything, Andi?

“Positive.” Andi couldn’t believe she was even having such a frank, unrelenting conversation about sexuality with someone she didn’t know. A dead someone, at that. “And if everyone knows everything, how come you can’t tell me more about this hitman you hired?”

Can we not go there right now? I thought you were trying to figure out if Davis’s suicide had anything to do with me. Was I wrong?
He didn’t wait for her response.
I’m sure the answer is yes, but it sure as hell doesn’t have anything to do with the hit I put out on Denise.

“I wish I could be as certain,” Andi said.

Listen, Andi, I think you’re seeing more dark clouds where there aren’t any. Instead of worrying about Davis’s suicide, you should hustle your boyfriend over to my house to help protect my wife, and tell your priest to get back to the church and start praying for her safety.

“The cops and the security people Denise hired have her well-covered. Jack and Father Riley and I are trying to figure out how to find the killer and stop him, because it’s for damned sure, if he doesn’t get the job done tonight, he’ll be back another day to finish what he was hired to do.”

Instead of addressing the hitman issues, he said,
You aren’t going to tell Denise about me and Davis, are you?

“Not unless it’s unavoidable for some reason.”

I don’t want my folks to know, either.

Andi didn’t have time to open her mouth to respond.

The smoke and Clem were gone.

As if she wasn’t worried enough already, her anxiety increased. If, for some reason, Denise and the elder Naylors
did
learn about Clem’s fantasies and almost-sexual encounter, would that be the time when those other-worldly repercussions entered the picture?

. . .

Andi dropped her head into her hands. Could she really keep this up, talking to the dead?

Clem was nothing like Sherry, and yet both cases shared similarities. Sociopathic and psychopathic personalities, murderers, violence, lies. Deception. Evil.

She’d been on the job at Orion’s Belt for less than a year. Would she be able to survive righting wrongs every couple of months? Could her psyche take it?

Jack’s chair screeched as he moved it closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “Andi?”

She looked up, wondering if her expression registered the futility she felt. Both Jack and Father Riley were staring at her with varying degrees of concern.

“This is too hard on you, babe.”

With a shaky hand, Andi reached for her lukewarm latté. “I’ll be okay. I think. It’s just that….” She glanced at the priest before she met Jack’s gaze. “I don’t know how either of you do your job, day in and day out, learning all the tawdry details of people’s lives.” She gave her head a quick, incredulous shake. “I guess I’ve just led a sheltered life, but I never considered how knowing
too
much about someone could affect your perspective, both toward them and the world, in general.”

Father Riley folded his hands together. “This might not be what you want to hear right now, Andi, but God chose you for a reason. Perhaps it was for your intelligence, or your perseverance, or your empathy. Perhaps it was because you’re trustworthy. I’m sure you also have other traits, which aren’t so obvious, that factored into His decision to let
you
be the one who hears the dead.”

Andi tilted her head at him. “You’re not going to compare me to another saint, are you?”

“No.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good, because I’m far from saintly.”

“Do you seriously believe saints led pristine lives, free of sin?”

“Didn’t they?”

“No, not by a long shot. Have you had a chance to read any of the book I gave you for Christmas?”

“Some.” She’d read enough to know she shouldn’t have asked that last question.

“Then you know the truth.” He offered her a smile, which softened his chastisement. “I was going to recommend that you pray to a saint who offers solace and help during bleak times.”

Bleak. Why not? That pretty much described the current situation. “I could definitely use an nudge in that direction right now. Who is it?”

“Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton. For the moment, I won’t go into her history, but suffice it to say, she faced every manner of challenge throughout her life and managed to survive. God has given you this one challenge because he knows you can handle it, albeit, with assistance from those around you and prayer.”

“When you put it that way,” Andi said, her tone more than a little facetious.

Father Riley lifted a shoulder and gave her a self-deprecating grin. “I may have mangled what I’m trying to say, Andi, so let me try again. There’s a quality that shines from within you to help someone who needs assistance. I don’t mean reaching for a can off the shelf in the grocery store for someone who’s shorter than you. I’m talking about tackling monumental requests.”

“Like solving murders,” Jack inserted, his tone wry.

“If the shoe fits,” Father Riley agreed. “I know you pooh-pooh it when I make comparisons to you and one saint or another, Andi, but honestly, you do comport yourself in a pre-saintly manner.”

Andi gaped at him. “I don’t get how can you say that! Until recently, I hadn’t even been inside a church for over ten years. I’m not remotely devout, even though I’ve started attending Sunday mass again.”

“Being saintly has nothing to do with religion or being devout or even going to mass,” the priest said. “It has to do with selflessly helping others.”

“If you compare me to Jeanne d’Arc one more time, I’m never bringing you cookies again.”

“Forewarned is forearmed.” Father Riley grinned and added, “I’m forever grateful, though, that you can’t read my thoughts.”

Andi frowned at him. “I take it then that you
silently
compare me to saints.”

Jack heaved a big sigh. “Andi, let it drop.”

Father Riley sent her a gentle smile. “How can I not, Andi? After all, someone literally ran you into a brick building and you walked away without a scratch, didn’t you? Some might call that a miracle, and isn’t that one of the precursors to becoming a saint, enacting miracles?”

“Not for oneself,” she argued.

He shrugged. “Who’s to say? As far as I know, there aren’t any rules about who can benefit from a miracle.”

Andi pondered that without a suitable comeback in sight.

Jack shook his head. “I have to agree with Father Riley on one thing, Andi. Neither one of us has ever sat in on one of your one-sided conversations before. It’s more than a little unnerving, to say the least. I don’t know how you’ve looked afterward in the past, but right now, you’re so pale it’s got me rattled. I’m starting to think you need you need to stay as far away from this block as you can.”

Andi stared at him with wide eyes. “I can’t do that! Denise—”

“Don’t you think I know that Denise’s life is in jeopardy?” he cut in angrily. “Jesus, Andi, you can’t take on solving every damned problem every cremated person in the county has left unresolved!”

“I haven’t had to do that yet, have I?” She experienced an instant of remorse for her sarcastic retort. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” he shot right back. “If I didn’t give a shit about you, I wouldn’t care how many lost souls you help.” He seemed to belatedly realize the priest was still there, and they were in a public place. “Sorry for the profanity, Father.”

“Shit, Jack, it’s just a word,” the priest replied, his tone laconic.

Andi could have kissed him for breaking the tension between her and Jack so adeptly. She reached over and clasped Jack’s hand.

He leaned in for a quick kiss and said, “Fill us in, will you? I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s disconcerting to sit in on one of your one-way conversations.”

The priest nodded. “This was a first for me, too. I admire you, Andi, for the way you handle yourself and what’s thrown at you. I certainly don’t think I could do what you’re doing.”

“I hope you never have to,” she said with fervor. Uninterrupted, she shared Clem’s version of his encounter with Davis MacLeary.

Jack pushed back his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “So, Clem caves in to a moment of weakness, twice, but manages to overcome his desires in favor of his established life, while Davis continues on with what some might call a life of depravity.”

“I guess that sums it up, although considering that he and Helen were already swappers, it might be more apt to label it a life of fantasy.”

“This could be a touchy subject for Helen MacLeary,” Father Riley said, “but, Jack, perhaps you should speak to her. I wouldn’t think it will come as too much of a shock that her husband’s attention strayed to Clem.”

Jack uttered a soft grunt. “Or maybe she’ll be surprised they were both after the same man.”

“There is that possibility,” the priest conceded, “but she may also have information that could be useful.”

A tiny light bulb went off over Andi’s head. “Maybe she’ll enlighten you about whatever it was that Davis did to her that Clem didn’t like.”

“You mean maybe she won’t B.S. me like Clem does you?”

“One can only hope.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Jack muttered. He narrowed his eyes on Andi. “What do you plan on doing while I’m questioning the widow?”

“I think I’ll go over to Denise’s and see if anything’s come back from the forensic accountant yet.”

Jack flexed his jaw. “I really don’t think Denise Naylor’s house is the best place for you to hang out today.”

“I won’t be hanging out, Jack. I just want to see what they’ve come up with so far on the financial end of things and then I’ll split.”

His steely eyes studied her for the space of several heartbeats. Though he didn’t speak, his flexing jaw did a fair job of transmitting his unspoken thoughts.

Andi didn’t let his scrutiny rattle her. “Two cops inside, two cops outside, and two security people inside, as well, remember? A girl can’t get much safer than that.”

“Want me to go with her?” Father Riley asked.

Andi and Jack answered simultaneously, one in the positive, one in the negative.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Andi added for good measure.

“Yes, you do.”

“I’ve never been called a babysitter before,” the priest said with an amused smile.

“Father, no offense, but butt out.”

“Jack! That’s no way to talk to Riley. Apologize.”

“I said ‘no offense.’”

“None taken,” the priest assured him, “but, Andi, if you do want company, I’m happy to oblige.”

“I appreciate the offer, but you know, there is something else you could do to help. Clem recommended it and it makes sense.”

“What was that?”

“Pray for a good resolution to this entire snafu.”

“Not a problem.” He polished off his coffee and chuckled. “My direct line to God seems to come in handy sometimes.”

Andi shoved her journal back into her purse, then wrapped her lemon bread in a paper napkin and nestled it on top of the leather-bound book, hoping it would survive the trip home.

When she arrive
d
at Denise’s house, Andi experienced the sensation of being a little old lady in a wheel chair trying to get through TSA inspection at the airport. Could Fort Knox be any more well guarded than Clem’s wife? Did everyone have to look at her, a simple game-app writer, with suspicion, as though she had a bomb wrapped around her middle?

In retrospect, springing the element of surprise on Denise had not been such a bright idea. The entire ordeal with both the cops and the security guards taught her a lesson: Don’t arrive unannounced when you’re visiting a potential murder victim.

“Have you heard from the forensic accountant yet?” Andi asked, once her hackles began to subside.

Denise nodded, her expression grim. “She says the books are too perfect not to be cooked. We’ve started the process for search warrants.”

“What does that entail?”

“Fortunately, Stacy’s involved. She contacted someone at the DA’s office who deals with white-collar crime. They went to a judge who leans in the direction of punishing corporate shenanigans and he gave a verbal okay before he went back into court after lunch. They’re waiting for him to finish up for the day. He’ll read through the paperwork, sign it, and if all goes well, the warrants will be served first thing tomorrow morning.”

“It isn’t likely they’ll have the cooked books onsite, is it?”

“Probably not, but the forensic accountant says that it’s not uncommon for embezzlers who think they’re really clever to leave things in plain sight. Just in case, though, the search warrants will include Benz and Giustina’s homes.”

“Does the business have an in-house accountant?”

“Yep, and his home will be searched, too.” Denise worried her lower lip. “I’m just afraid that having the forensic accountant at the office, going over the books, gave them a head’s up to hide everything somewhere we’ll never find it.”

“Or maybe, like the forensic accountant said, they’ll be so sure they’ve covered their tracks, it will never occur to them that search warrants are forthcoming.”

“You may be right, Andi. She’s been through this before and said she left the place thanking them for their courtesy and cooperation. She said everyone was smiling and glad-handing her as she went out the door.”

“See?” Stacy said, speaking up for the first time. “No need to worry until you know there’s more to worry about.”

Denise sighed. “I suppose.”

Andi’s phone
pinged
. “It’s Jack. He says Helen MacLeary wasn’t home. He’s going to go back in the morning.”

“God, I feel like a need a drink,” Denise said, making a face at the mention of Helen’s name. “Care to join me for a glass of wine?”

“No, thanks,” Stacy said.

“None for me, either, but thanks.” Andi was eternally grateful that Denise wasn’t in a pissy mood again. She waited until the widow poured herself a healthy portion of Cabernet before she said, “Denise, I need to know. You’ve got a killer after you and you act like it’s just another day. How can remain so calm during all of this?”

“Andi!” Stacy said, her tone sharp.

Denise stayed her best friend’s sister with a raised hand. “I’m not what you call one of those warm-and-fuzzy women, Andi, but even to myself, I seem a little complex. I’ve been told I’m cold, calculating, efficient” —she shrugged— “just fill in the blank with a similar adjective and that’s me, apparently. In all honesty, the only place I’ve ever been told I’m hot is in bed, with my husband. I think it has something to do with the way I was raised. Emotions and hugs and kisses were not part of my parents’ upbringing and they raised me the same way.” She took a long sip from her glass almost as if it were fortifying her. “When I had my own family, I vowed that I would
show
my emotions, but when I undertake projects, or crusades, as Clem used to call them, I don’t. Emotions cripple you when you’re facing adversity.”

Andi supposed you could call having a contract on your life adversity. “Why wouldn’t Clem just come out and say that it was the way you were raised when I asked him about your calm demeanor? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not sure Clem really understood what makes me tick when I’m under pressure.” Denise climbed up on a bar stool and propped her elbows on the counter. “I don’t think I mentioned this to you before, but my husband had this weird way about him sometimes. He thought he was being funny, but he wasn’t, or at least he didn’t come across that way to others. It was like his humor meter was skewed or something.”

“I recently heard about that from someone else who knew him.” Andi took the stool next to Denise, hoping she wouldn’t ask for an explanation on that somewhat oblique comment. “I’m stymied about the inconsistencies between what Clem’s told me and the text messages about the payment in full and the kill date.”

“Andi,” Stacy said, her displeasure obvious, “could you not be a little more tactful here?”

Andi stared Jack’s boss down. “No, I couldn’t. It’s nearly five o’clock. That’s seven hours until midnight.”

“Stace, it’s okay,” Denise said. “Andi makes a valid point, doesn’t she?”

“I suppose so,” Stacy grumbled.

Denise took an extra-long swallow from her glass. “I thought you had to leave soon.”

“I’m not sure I should now, since you’re apparently under intense scrutiny by Crime-Solver Andi.”

Andi took no offense from the LT’s words, especially since they were accurate.

Denise tilted up her wine glass, draining it. “I’m not afraid of her.”

“You know what I mean, Denise.”

“I promise not to torture her,” Andi said, amused.

The LT studied her for fully half a minute. “Okay, but if I hear you got out of line at all, you and I are going rumble.”

Andi crossed her heart to reinforce the promise.

Minutes later, she and Denise were alone in the kitchen, with bodyguards nearby in the living room. “I’ve had a couple more conversations with Clem, and today I also spoke with the Deacons and Davis MacLeary.”

“You do get around,” Denise said, her tone dry as she reached for the wine bottle. “Especially since Davis has been dead for over a month now.”

“I should have said, I revisited his conversation with me when he passed through after his cremation.”

Denise’s eyes flickered.

Bingo. Andi uttered a silent apology to Clem and repeated his version of his first romantic encounter with Davis. “Care to tell your side of the story?”

Denise drained her glass and refilled it.

Andi thought about encouraging her to go slow on the
vino
, but the woman was under a lot of stress. She decided to mind her own business, at least as it pertained to Denise’s wine consumption.

“I knew something had happened,” Denise said, her voice was tight with emotion. “The kids had gone to the grands’ house for a sleepover and Clem came home all hot and bothered.” Her fingertips played against the stem of her glass and her face took on a dreamy expression. “I don’t think the sex had ever been that good between us before. Even now, I think about it and I get….” She shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. “Sorry. I know you don’t want to hear the intimate details of my love life.”

That much was true, but Denise deserved to hear that her husband had felt the same way. “Clem told me it was the best sex of his life.”

Denise’s eyes widened with surprise. “He actually said that?”

“He did, and for what it’s worth, that and the fact that he loved you helped make up his mind about pursuing anything with Davis.” She didn’t bother to mention that he also may have considered it his sex swansong, since he’d already hired The Liquidator by then.

“Not so with Davis, though.”

“How do you know that?”

Clem’s widow barked out a humorless laugh. “That idiot came around mooning after my husband several times, though I’m sure he didn’t think he was obvious about it. The day after our great night of sex?”

Andi nodded.

“Davis came over to return Clem’s phone. He said Clem had left it at their house the day before. I almost didn’t believe him, but then my husband was constantly misplacing that phone of his. Knowing now that he made it to the MacLeary bedroom twice that day, I’m not surprised.” She made a small snorting noise. “Clem once told me he never lied to me. I guess that’s true, if you don’t count the fact that he
omitted
giving me vital pieces of information. What an dope he was! He should have told me what happened. I wouldn’t have thought less of him for it.”

Andi didn’t know how Denise could be so certain of that, but to each her own.

“Not long after, Davis brought Helen with him and they begged us to give the swapper group another try. In retrospect, I realize that look of hunger in Helen’s eyes was for my husband, not hers.” She puffed her cheeks, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Davis came back one more time after that, hoping to convince us to do a foursome with him and Helen. The man was nothing if not a diehard.”

“Clem forgot to mention that.”

“I’m sure Clem forgot to mention a lot of things to you.”

“If there’s one thing I know about your husband by now, it’s that he takes a circuitous route to get to where he’s going,” Andi agreed, her tone dry.

“That’s my Clem.” Denise stared across the kitchen to where she’d hung some framed kids’ art. “I can’t get used to going to bed at night without him. And every morning I wake up reaching for him, but he’s not there. I pick up the phone to call him to ask his opinion on something or to tell him something cute one of the kids did.” She turned her head toward Andi. Tears pooled in her eyes and dribbled down her cheeks. “I miss him so damned much, Andi. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.” She choked on a sob. “I don’t know how I’m going to live without him.”

Andi was stunned at the depth of Denise’s emotion. Aside from the time she’d been told her husband had put a contract on her life, the only other true emotion she’d shown was the moment when she’d learned her children’s lives could be in danger.

Andi couldn’t pretend to know what the other woman was going through, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t offer some words of comfort. “You’ll always grieve for him, Denise, but you’ll tackle each day as it comes. If for no other reason, you’ll do it for your kids, and you’ll get through it.”

“Unless I die tonight.”

There was that. “The Liquidator will play hell getting at you.”

“Maybe for the immediate future, but how long will EPD keep officers here? And how long will I be able to afford private security? If the killer wants me, he’ll get me eventually.”

Andi searched for an appropriate rebuttal, but how did you counter what was probably the truth?

. . .

Denise sent Andi off with a packet that contained a preliminary report of the forensic accountant’s initial findings from combing through the books at Giustina Benz and Naylor. She’d also included a few other things she’d unearthed during the day in Clem’s home office while trying to keep her mind otherwise occupied from thoughts of being murdered.

Andi drove home listening to the Sixties-on-Six station on Sirius/XM, hoping for a fifteen-minute respite from her Smokie problems. “My Boy Lollipop” got her off to a good start, but the moment she pulled into her parking space and turned off the ignition, Clem’s situation surfaced with the viciousness of an unexpected volcanic eruption.

Dragging her feet like she was some kind of automaton, she climbed the stairs to her apartment. She half-dreaded the thought of an evening alone, but on the other hand, she didn’t relish having company, either. She got into her pajamas before exploring the fridge for possible dinner offerings. Two minutes of staring at the assorted, if sparse contents netted nothing that appealed to her. She slammed the door shut and stood in the middle of her kitchen, debating her options.

Ignoring her hunger pangs, Andi spread a collection of printed materials out across the countertops and the dining table. All of it pertained to Clem Naylor and his stupid-ass plan to have his wife killed. Methodically, she reread every piece of paper, jotting down a new note here and there.

It wasn’t until she came to her copy of the police report on the hit-and-run crash that she lurched to a metaphorical halt. At the bottom of the first page, a Post-It had been affixed over the witness names. The notation said
wit #5 left b/f IV
. Andi interpreted that to be
witness number five left before being interviewed
.

She pulled off the Post-It and stared in shock at the names. Why had she not read all the way through the report before?

Stunned by the implications of what she was seeing, she found herself frozen with indecisiveness. If Father Riley hadn’t mentioned that the hit-and-run didn’t seem like something a hitman would do, her mind might not now be traveling down that exact path.

Reticle photos aside, she was faced with concrete proof that the contract on Denise and the hit-and-run shared a commonality. She had little choice but to accept the obvious and pursue the possibility that whoever wanted Denise dead was also after her.