Shadow of Doubt (A Kali O'Brien legal mystery) (36 page)

I got to the driveway just in time to see my BMW backing onto the main road. The car bucked and then lurched forward, sideswiping a red Honda parked in front of the house next door. The awful crunch of metal on metal was followed by the sharp screeching of tires, and my car flew down the street.

I ran into the house and yelled to Mrs. Holland. “Quick. Let me have your car keys.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Cheryl drove off in my car.”

Out front again, I caught a glimpse of my BMW at the intersection. I followed, gunning the engine of Mrs. Holland’s old station wagon for all it was worth. It was low on power and handled like a truck. It was also, I noticed, almost out of gasoline. I hoped Cheryl wasn’t planning any long trek.

Somehow, I managed to gain on her, just a little. Then she careened around a corner, running a red light in the process. I did the same, slowing first to look for oncoming cars. The distance between us grew again.

As I pushed the pedal to the floor, I made some quick calculations. It unnerved me to realize that not only was Cheryl too young to have a license, she was probably too young to have a learner’s permit. In either case, it was apparent she didn’t have a lot of experience behind the wheel.

Cheryl headed past the interstate and out to the farming country along the river. She weaved from shoulder to shoulder, ignoring the yellow line down the center. She veered around a slow-moving tractor and just barely avoided colliding with the pickup coming from the other direction. Again, my relative caution caused me to fall behind. I saw my car in the distance turn right, off the main road. By the time I got to the intersection, she had vanished.

I turned onto the side road anyway. It was narrow and a good deal more winding, so I took it slow. About a mile in, I spotted my BMW — its front end smashed solidly against the rock wall of a farm house. A cloud of steam rose from the hood. Cheryl was nowhere in sight.

I pulled over quickly and headed for the house. As I passed by the garage, I noticed a white Lincoln, and next to it a blue Acura with a rear bumper sticker.

If you can read this, thank a teacher.

Jannine was apparently not the only owner of a blue car to champion the cause of teachers.

The front door was ajar. I stuck my head in and looked around. Cheryl was crouched inside the door, her hands and face smeared with blood.

“Are you all right?”

She wrapped her arms tightly around her chest and shoulders, and began rocking, moaning softly as she swayed forward and backward.

“Cheryl? Are you hurt?”

Nothing.

“The car doesn’t matter. It’s you I’m worried about.”

The swaying and moaning continued. Cheryl’s eyes were locked straight ahead. Finally I looked to where she was staring and saw the body of a man sprawled out, face up on the floor, a heavy fireplace poker nearby. A pool of deep red blood was forming at his head. It took me a minute to recognize Jack Peterson.

Chapter 28

“What happened?” I asked, my voice a slow croak.

Cheryl stopped her swaying and rocking, but kept her eyes fixed on the pool of blood. “I don’t know. He was like that when I got here.” She paused. ‘‘Do you think he’s dead?”

He certainly looked dead. His face was pulpy, and he didn’t appear to be breathing. “I think we’d better call the police,” I told her.

She nodded but otherwise didn’t move.

“You stay here. I’ll go look for a phone.”

Before I’d finished speaking, I heard an ominous growl coming from the doorway behind me. I turned to look. An enormous German shepherd stood on alert, the fur on his back erect, the sharp teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Next to him stood Marlene, holding a gasoline can in one hand and a blowtorch in the other. Her teeth were bared in a smile rather than a snarl, but the effect was similar.

“Well, well,” she said, setting the blow torch at her feet, “isn’t this handy. You’ve saved me the trouble of tracking you down.”

I made a move toward her. The dog lunged, and I pulled back.

“You don’t want to mess with Baron,” she said. “He’s a trained attack dog.” She turned to Cheryl. “Your friend Jack isn’t looking his best, I’m afraid. But if you’d like, you may give him one last kiss.” Her voice was cruel. “Of course, he’s rather beyond your powers of seduction at the moment.”

Cheryl looked again toward the body. She drew in several choking breaths, then started sobbing.

“Hysterics won’t change anything,” Marlene snipped.

 
“He said I was special, that
we
were special.” Cheryl’s words were broken by convulsive sobs. “He said he loved me.”

Marlene laughed harshly. “Love. You youngsters walk around half-dressed, flaunting your bodies. You throw yourselves at men, flirt with them, lead them on, and then you want
love,
too.” Her lips compressed into a thin line. “Love and sex are not the same, you know.”

“He said I was special. And I believed him. I thought we . . Cheryl looked at me, her eyes round and frightened. “Then I found those pictures. There were other girls, too.”

“Jack Peterson took the pictures?” I whispered.

She nodded, barely moving. “He said he wanted pictures of me, for the times when I wasn’t there.
 
To help him remember. He said I brought him such joy. He said trust and sharing were important.” She dropped her head to her hands. “He said he loved me,” she sobbed. “He said it was all about love.”

“Well, he didn’t love you,” Marlene said evenly. “He loved me. That’s why he married me. You girls were nothing to him. Nothing but a meaningless diversion, a simple habit.”

“You knew about this?” I asked, incredulous.

She gave me a piercing look. “Of course, I knew. Jack and I had no secrets from each other.” She turned to Cheryl.
“That
is love.”

“But Mr. Marrero said—”

Marlene snorted. “He’s the one who started all this trouble. Got all worked up and made a big deal about it. Said Jack was sick. It wasn’t like Jack forced those girls, you know. They were only too willing. Isn’t that so?” she said, addressing Cheryl.

The heavy sobs had subsided, but Cheryl continued to weep. Her whole body trembled with emotion. “Mr. Marrero said he’d help.”

“Help?” Marlene’s voice was sharp. “He wanted to stir up trouble, is what he wanted. He tried to talk Jack into resigning. All Jack had worked for — his career in education, his political aspirations, his whole life — down the drain. And for
nothing.
Just because some stupid little slut didn’t get what she wanted.”

Cheryl looked up, as though she’d been slapped hard. The pixie face was crumpled and tear-stained. I started to move toward her to offer comfort, but the German shepherd followed with a menacing snarl. I stopped where I was.

“Jack thought he could reason with Eddie.”
 
Marlene shook her head angrily. “He was sure they could work things out. But after Eddie lifted those pictures from Jack’s office, I knew it wouldn’t work. Jack would never be safe.”

“I was the one who took the pictures,” Cheryl said. “It wasn’t Mr. Marrero. I found them in his bottom desk drawer. At first I didn’t want to believe it. All those other girls.” Her voice rose a little, then fell. “He said he loved me, but he didn’t. Mr. Marrero was right.”

Marlene ignored Cheryl. “Eddie Marrero was nothing but a troublemaker, a busybody who stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong. Thought he had the right to judge others. I had to stop him before he caused irreparable damage.”

“So you killed him.” My mouth was so dry the words came out in a scratchy whisper.

She smiled. “Smart girl. Jack said you were smart. He was sure you’d figure it out eventually. I tried to keep you away, but you wouldn’t listen. You ignored every warning.”

“The
bon voyage
card,” I said.

She raised an eyebrow and nodded. “It’s a little late to be getting the message.”

“And the car that almost ran me over Saturday evening.”

“I knew you’d find the photographs eventually. I’d already checked through Eddie’s things at the house, and Jack had looked through his office. We didn’t know where they were, but once you had them, it would be too late.”

So Eddie’s office
had
 
been searched. And it was Marlene, not the police, who’d messed up Eddie’s files at home. Only he hadn’t taken the pictures in the first place, Cheryl had. Because she knew that without them, it would be her word against Peterson’s.

The same reason Marlene had been so anxious to locate them herself.

“Now that you’re both here,” Marlene continued, “I can wrap everything up at once.”

While she uncapped the can and began pouring gasoline around the perimeter of the room, Baron positioned himself at the door, venting his impatience with intermittent snarls. Gasoline fumes filled the air, causing my eyes to smart and my throat to constrict But it was the image of flames, a wall of fire searing my flesh, that made me almost nauseous.

I looked around the room for a means of escape. The only windows were small, high up, and closed tight. And the one doorway was blocked by a drooling hundred pounds of hard muscle and single-minded determination. The situation didn’t leave much room for optimism.

Marlene worked her way around the room. When she came to Jack’s body, she hesitated for a moment, then continued pouring, dousing his body with gasoline.

“You killed Jack, too?” I asked.

“I had to. He was going to give up, withdraw from politics, resign his position. After all this, after all I’d done, he was going to quit on me.” She picked up the fireplace poker, wiped the handle on her blouse, and set it back on the hearth. “Can you imagine the publicity? Why, I'd never be able to show my face in public again. My family has been prominent in this community for four generations. My great-grandfather was sheriff and then mayor. Both my grandfather and father were state senators.”

“And you wanted your husband to follow in their footsteps.”

“It’s not that I’m condoning Jack’s weakness for the flesh, but he was a man, after all. These things happen. He asked for my understanding and forgiveness, and he got them. But going public with this, that was unthinkable. A disgrace beyond measure. I couldn’t allow it.”

“Isn’t murder something of a blemish on your family’s good name?”

“Not if no one knows,” she said. “The police think they’ve solved Eddie’s murder. Even if Jannine’s not convicted, they aren’t going to come back and start looking for the killer all over again. That’s why I was so anxious to keep you from meddling. Everything was rolling along so nicely.”

Jannine’s arrest. The DA’s sudden eagerness to bring her in. It suddenly made sense.

 
“How did you manage to pressure the DA?” I asked.

“A phone call to a friend, who made a phone call to a friend. A favor repaid. It’s what I tried to explain to Jack, connections are so important You don’t walk away and give up when you’ve spent a lifetime cultivating them.” Cheryl had been sitting quietly, almost trance-like, staring off into space. She turned now to look at Marlene. “You’re going to kill us, too, aren’t you?”

“You think I’d just let you walk way?”

“They’ll be able to tell it’s arson,” I said.