Читать книгу Close Neighbors - Dawn Stewardson - Страница 9

HOW ON EARTH, ANNE ASKED herself, had things escalated so rapidly from a little girl seeking her advice to a man needing it? And not just any man, but one who’d become the victim of an extortion attempt because his sister was a murder suspect.

She gazed across the sun-drenched pool, thinking that when the Nicholsons had a problem it was certainly a major leaguer. And regardless of whether it made her uncomfortable, now that Chase had begun talking about it she had little choice but to hear him out.

“So,” she said, turning toward him with what she hoped was an encouraging expression. “When you said you’re not sure how to handle the phone call, does that mean you haven’t reported it to the police?”

“No. I haven’t.”

“Then I guess my first question is, why not?”

Silence stretched between them until he said, “You know, all of a sudden I’m feeling like an idiot—and wondering what the devil possessed me to come over here. I mean, we’ve barely met, so…”

She simply waited, watching him. On the surface, he appeared relaxed, his hands resting lightly on his thighs, but no one looking closely would mistake him for a man at ease. His dark eyes were clouded with worry, and there was a tightness around his mouth.

“When Julie said you’d been a detective…” he finally continued. “But, no. I should have realized that imposing on you was totally inappropriate.” He began to rise. “This doesn’t concern you, and—”

“Wait, it’s all right,” she said, aware as the words came out that she might regret them.

Giving advice to a virtual stranger could be risky business, so she’d probably be wiser to just let him leave. But something about him made her want to help.

Before she could decide exactly what it was, he said, “You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Yes.”

He lowered himself into the chair again, slowly saying, “I would have called the police, but the situation’s a lot more complicated than Julie made it sound.”

“In that case, you’d better start at the beginning. Tell me the whole story. I’ve got time,” she added when he glanced at her laptop. “I was just playing with the opening of a new book. And that was mostly because my house is such a disaster area that I don’t know where to start attacking it.”

“Well…then how about this? After we’re finished discussing my problem, I’ll give you a hand inside. Help you arrange your furniture, or cart boxes to the basement or whatever.”

Her gaze slipped downward from his face. His shoulders were broad, and the way his T-shirt was pulling tautly across his chest emphasized its muscles, leaving little doubt that he’d be a big help.

“All right.” She shot him a smile. “Deal.”

“Great. Then…the beginning would have been Wednesday evening. Graham phoned Rachel after dinner and…I mentioned that she’d recently broken up with him, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well, on Wednesday he phoned after dinner and told her they had to talk—suggested they meet in High Park. She said she’d be there, then had second thoughts and called him back. She couldn’t reach him, though, so she asked me to go with her.

“It wouldn’t have been any problem. Julie was spending the night next door, at her friend’s. But Rachel has a habit of avoiding difficult situations, of always trying to get someone else to take care of them for her. So I said no, and she went alone.”

When Chase paused and caught Anne’s gaze, she felt a flicker of affinity. How often had she made a spur-of-the-moment decision, only to end up wishing she’d decided differently? Far more often than she liked to recall.

“I imagine I’d have told her no, too,” she said—and was glad she had when Chase looked grateful.

“Yeah, well, I figured that was the right way to play it,” he continued. “Until about three minutes after she left, that is. Then I started worrying that I’d made a mistake. See, Graham had a quick temper, and the more I thought about that the more I wished I’d gone.

“Finally, I got in my Jeep and headed to the park. I drove around, checking the lots for their cars, but couldn’t find them. Later, Rachel explained that they met at the entrance to a walking trail, and had both parked in a pull-off near it.”

“So when you couldn’t find them you came home?” Anne prompted after he paused a second time.

“Right. And, eventually, Rachel arrived back, so upset that I knew something was wrong the instant she walked in.

“It turned out Graham had started talking about their getting together again and she’d told him it wouldn’t work. Said they simply weren’t right for each other. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, though, and one thing led to another until, at some point, he shoved her.

“She said he didn’t push her very hard. But they were in a wooded area and she must have slipped on some leaves or something, because she ended up on the ground. And that totally infuriated her, so she didn’t say another word—just picked herself up, marched back to her car and drove home. End of story. Until yesterday morning, when we turned on the news and heard he’d been killed.”

“How did she react?”

“She practically disintegrated. She’d been seeing him for months, and even though she’d decided he wasn’t the love of her life, she still had feelings for him. In any event, the police were issuing their standard request for people who knew anything to contact them.”

“And she did.”

“Of course.”

“Despite her habit of avoiding difficult situations.”

“She realized there was no avoiding this one.”

That, Anne thought, was only too true. Likely, people in the park had seen Rachel and Graham together. Or, at the very least, had seen their cars parked in the same place. Which meant it would only have been a matter of time until the police learned her identity.

“So Rachel called the police,” she said. “And the next thing you knew those detectives were at your house.”

Chase nodded.

“And when Julie told me the ‘TV people’ are implying Rachel did it? Are they really?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think that’s just hype, or did the detectives actually seem to suspect her?”

“Well…I’d better fill you in on some of the other details. Graham was killed with a .40-caliber Glock, which, apparently, is standard Toronto police issue. So they assume someone turned his own gun on him and—”

“He had it with him, then?”

“It seems that way. Rachel didn’t see it. But he was wearing a jacket, so it could have been underneath that or in a pocket. At any rate, it wasn’t found at the scene. And since it wasn’t in his car or apartment, the detectives figure he was carrying it. And that the killer took it with him.”

“But if ballistics hasn’t got it, there’s no way of telling whether it’s actually the murder weapon or not.”

“No, and…you know a lot about police procedures?”

“A fair bit.”

“Well, then, if they’d really thought it was Rachel who killed him, wouldn’t they have checked her for gunpowder? Don’t traces of it show up even if somebody’s spent forever scrubbing their hands?”

“Uh-uh. Unless you do a gunshot residue test within a few hours, it’s basically useless. They’d never have bothered with one the morning after, regardless of what they thought.”

“You’re positive?”

“‘Fraid so.”

Chase raked his fingers through his hair, clearly not happy with that bit of information.

“Those detectives kept coming back to one fact,” he finally continued. “Rachel’s the last person who saw Graham alive.”

“Look,” Anne said quietly. “I realize how unnerving this has to be, but they’re only doing their job—trying to establish exactly what happened during the time leading up to his death. And since Rachel was with him…what I’m saying is that her being with him is an entire world away from her having killed him. And they know that.”

“Right. Of course they do. But…”

“But what?”

He hesitated, then said, “The man who phoned me. Who says he has the gun. What if he actually does, and he’s figured out some way he really can use it to implicate her?”

Anne slowly sat back in her chair. If Rachel had absolutely nothing to do with Graham’s murder, why would Chase think there was any way someone could frame her?

Because that’s what his caller threatened to do, she silently answered her own question. And even if it’s not a realistic threat, it’s a very frightening one.

“Have you considered that this guy might just be some crank?” she said. “That he doesn’t have the gun at all? Maybe he only heard about the murder on the news. And with the media insinuating that the ‘girlfriend’ did it, he decided to find out who Rachel was and try a shakedown.”

“Yes, I thought about that. In fact, my first assumption was that he had to be a nutcase. But as he kept talking, I realized he’d actually been close by while Rachel and Graham were arguing. Because he knew Graham had shoved her. Plus, he repeated a couple of things they said.

“As for the gun, I don’t think there’s any doubt he has it. He said Graham’s initials are on the handle. Which is true. According to Rachel, some cops like to have that done, and Graham was one of them.”

Anne nodded, thinking that even if Chase’s caller had the real item, they still had no way of knowing whether it was the murder weapon or not.

“Let’s back up for a minute,” she said. He wasn’t exactly giving her the story in an orderly fashion, and unless he did she was likely to miss more information than she got.

“When you say this guy called you, you mean that you answered the phone and he didn’t ask for Rachel? He just went ahead and laid his story on you?”

“No, I mean he specifically called me. I’ve got a separate line in my office and that’s the one he used, not the house number.”

“And what about his voice? I don’t suppose it sounded even slightly familiar?”

“No. Actually, it barely sounded real. It had a strange, metallic tone.”

“As if he was using some sort of electronic device?”

“Exactly. So even if he was someone I know, I wouldn’t have realized it. But the immediate question’s not, who is he? It’s, what do I do about him? Because he said he’d call back in a couple of days. And if I don’t have the money for him, he’s going to plant the gun someplace that will incriminate Rachel.”

Fleetingly, Anne wondered what sort of place he had in mind, then told herself that wasn’t important and said, “Chase, a lowlife can make any threats he wants. But as long as her fingerprints aren’t on the gun it can’t incriminate her.”

“That’s exactly what I told him.”

“And he said?”

“He…said they are on it.”

“Oh?”

The word came out far less casually than she’d intended, but Chase barely seemed to notice. He just gave her a shrug, then elaborated.

“His version of what happened wasn’t quite the same as Rachel’s. According to him, after Graham pushed her he pulled his gun. She got up and made a grab for it. And while they both had hold of it, it went off. Graham was shot and she ran—leaving the gun lying on the ground. Which is how this jerk claims he ended up with it.”

“Ah.” When no subtle way of wording her next question came to her, Anne simply said, “You’re sure things couldn’t have played out that way? That the gun didn’t accidentally go off, and Rachel’s just too frightened to admit—”

“No. After Graham pushed her, she got up and left. Period. She’d never lie to me about something that important. Whereas this guy wants money from me, so he had to concoct a story he could threaten to tell the police.”

“But…Chase, I know I’m repeating myself, but his claiming Rachel’s fingerprints are on the gun doesn’t make it true. And as long as they really aren’t—”

“That’s what we kept telling ourselves last night. Then we realized it might not matter. I mean, what if nobody’s prints are on it by this point? What if he’s wiped it clean? And then he does plant it? Wouldn’t those detectives figure Rachel was the one who’d wiped off the prints? Because some of them were hers?”

“Not if you tell them about this guy. Not if they’re expecting the gun to turn up someplace that—”

“There’s more,” Chase interrupted.

She looked at him, certain that whatever the “more” was, it wasn’t good.

“He didn’t only talk about planting the gun. He said he’d know, right away, if I told the cops he’d called me. And that if I did, it would be game over. That he had a whole bag of tricks up his sleeve.”

“Chase, regardless of what threats he made it still doesn’t mean—”

“I know. Rationally, both Rachel and I are aware that what you’re saying is right.”

“Then…I guess that gets me back to the question of why you didn’t contact the police.”

He wearily shook his head. “Because when I told her about the call she went into total panic. And by the time we’d finished discussing things I wasn’t sure what the hell to do. We…would you like to hear where we ended up?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, the longer we thought about it, the more logical it seemed that this guy’s the real killer. Our best scenario was that he went to the park looking for someone to mug and just happened to come across Rachel and Graham.

“Then, after Rachel left, he decided Graham would make as good a victim as anyone. But instead of cooperating, Graham pulled his gun. And that’s where the story came from about a struggle and the gun going off and…what do you think?”

“I…it’s certainly possible.”

Rapidly, Anne began evaluating just how possible that scenario might be. Assuming Rachel’s version of events was accurate, a mugger theory held water. And, one way or another, the killer could have learned her identity. But beyond what had happened while Rachel was with Graham, they were into pure speculation.

Looking at Chase again, she said, “Was Graham robbed? Was his wallet missing when his body was discovered?”

“I don’t know. The detectives didn’t say anything about that, and we’ve heard nothing on the news. But if it was, then the rest falls neatly into place, doesn’t it? We’ve got some creep lurking in the park, with robbery on his mind, who kills Graham. Then he has the idea of going after serious money with a little extortion.

“And now, assuming he actually can make Rachel appear guilty, that’s exactly what he’ll do if I cross him up. Because if the cops charged her they sure wouldn’t be looking for him. So…well, we just didn’t want to call them and come to regret it.”

Pushing her hair back from her face, Anne tried to consider a hundred different things at once.

“So? What do you think?” Chase asked again.

She hesitated, then said, “You might hate me for this, but I still think you should have talked to the police last night.”

“I just didn’t feel I could,” he said, shaking his head. “Aside from anything else, I wasn’t sure they’d believe me.”

“Why not?”

“Well, we got to thinking they might figure I’d only made up the extortionist story—as a way of throwing suspicion off Rachel.

“Don’t look so skeptical,” he added before Anne even realized she was. “When the detectives interviewed her, they asked if she’d seen anyone near the clearing. And she said she hadn’t. So for me to tell them there was someone there, and that he’d phoned me with his threat…”

“Chase, Rachel and Graham were having a heated argument. It’s hardly going to surprise the cops if she didn’t notice someone hiding in the trees.”

“Even so…well, at this point it doesn’t matter. It turns out I’ve got a witness to the guy’s call. Julie overheard me talking to him. But she didn’t tell me she had until after she came over here this morning.

“And, last night, Rachel…I guess what really had her so terrified was not knowing exactly how much this guy might be capable of, or what he had in mind when he talked about having a whole bag of tricks up his sleeve.”

“That’s what intimidation’s all about,” Anne said gently.

“I know. I just hadn’t realized how effective it can be.”

She let the silence grow for a few moments, then said, “You could still call the police now.”

Chase didn’t reply, just stared silently across the pool. Finally, he turned and caught her gaze.

He was clearly both exhausted and troubled, the picture of a man who’d lain awake all night, wrestling with a problem far greater than his coping ability.

She felt badly for him and wished she could do a lot more to help than merely pressing him to call the police.

“What if I phone them and it makes things worse for Rachel?” he said at last. “Even after I explain everything, won’t they suspect I had some other reason for waiting so long? Wonder if she actually does have something to hide? Figure we might have spent last night and this morning trying to decide if we’d be better off keeping quiet?”

Anne didn’t reply, but he was raising a valid concern. It lessened her certainty that calling the cops was the right way to go.

“Hell, maybe they’d even wonder if Julie really did overhear that call,” he was saying. “They might suspect we just told her we needed her help, and coached her about what to say.”

He looked out over the pool once more, then said, “But you’re really convinced I should phone them?”

“Give me a minute to think,” she murmured. A whole lot of questions were drifting in the slipstreams of her mind. One of them, though, overshadowed all the others combined.

How likely was it that Rachel actually had killed Graham Lowe?

CHASE SAT WATCHING ANNE and wishing he could read minds. He didn’t want to interrupt her thoughts, but he was awfully curious about exactly what they were. Awfully curious and awfully worried. Her reaction would be probably much like a jury’s, so…

He stopped himself right there. His sister was innocent, which made thinking along those lines absolutely ridiculous. Still, he had the distinct impression that Anne didn’t entirely believe Rachel’s story.

Not that she seemed anywhere near as suspicious as those detectives had been. On the other hand, she didn’t know all the details yet.

Maybe, before he got into the rest of them, he should explain that Rachel could never in a million years kill a mouse, let alone a man. Tell her, for example, about the time he’d bought a wasp trap for the backyard—and how she’d refused to let him put it up, even though eating outside meant either having to share your food with the damned wasps or risk getting stung.

Finally, he decided that, for the moment, he’d be wise to just keep quiet and see what Anne had to say.

Looking away from her, he ordered himself to think about anything other than Rachel’s problem. He’d been dwelling on it, nonstop, since yesterday morning. If he didn’t start taking the occasional mental break he’d be a basket case in no time.

After rejecting a couple of possible subjects for thought, he settled on the question of why a woman like Anne was unattached. She was great looking, obviously smart, and she had both a friendly manner and a smile that made him feel warm inside whenever she flashed it at him. So why wasn’t there a husband on the scene? Or a boyfriend?

Actually, he knew why there was no husband. She was divorced. Rachel had learned that from the real estate woman—via their ex-neighbor. As for lack of a boyfriend, he was only guessing at that.

If there was one, though, surely he’d be here helping her settle in. Or she’d have said she had someone coming later to help her arrange the furniture. When women were unavailable, or not interested, they always let men know.

But why on earth had he started contemplating the status of Anne Barrett’s love life? He certainly had no ideas about…

No, definitely no ideas along those lines. Not with her or any other woman. Julie, Rachel and he might not add up to a standard household, but their living arrangement worked for all three of them. And…

Rachel. Despite his best efforts, his thoughts returned to the problem at hand. The serious, ugly problem.

He looked across the patio table at Anne again, deciding he would have a shot at telling her what kind of person his sister was. But before he could begin, the gate between the yards creaked. When he glanced over, Rachel was standing in the opening.

“Mind if I join the party?” she asked tentatively. “Julie’s gone next door to play with Becky for a while. But before she left, she told me what you were talking about.”

“My sister,” he said to Anne, even though she’d already have figured that out.

She smiled across the yard at Rachel, which, for some reason, made him feel a touch better about this damn situation.

“I’m Anne Barrett,” she was saying. “And you’re exactly what the party needs.”

While Rachel Nicholson started around the end of the pool, Anne tried to size her up without being totally transparent about it.

Six or seven years younger than her brother, somewhere in her mid-twenties, she had deep brown eyes the same rich chocolate shade as Chase’s. At the moment, there were dark shadows beneath them. That, along with her bleak expression, gave her an utterly stressed-out appearance.

At about Anne’s height, five foot five or six, and as slightly built, she certainly didn’t look like a woman who could wrestle control of a gun from a police detective. Of course, Chase’s caller hadn’t said she’d gotten control of it—only that it had gone off while she’d been trying to.

As Rachel neared the patio, Anne said, “I hope you don’t think I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but—”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I think at all. Julie explained that she came over because she figured you might be able to help. And if Chase thinks so, too…”

After shooting her brother an anxious glance, Rachel looked at Anne again. “I’ll really appreciate any advice you can give us. Chase and I were even wondering whether we should talk to a lawyer, but I guess he’s mentioned that.”

“I hadn’t quite gotten to it,” he told her.

“We were still trying to decide what you should do about the extortion call,” Anne said.

Not that it was actually a matter of deciding. Rather, it was a matter of convincing them to report it. All taking time to think had done was reassure her that was the only thing to do.

Of course, those detectives would wonder why Chase hadn’t phoned them last night. He was right about that. Still, he had to call them.

“Didn’t Chase tell you we’d already decided?” Rachel was saying uneasily. “We’re going to keep quiet about it.”

“Well…I understand why that seems like a reasonable idea, but—”

“Anne, the guy said he’d know if Chase talked to the police and—”

“Yes, I realize that’s what he said, but it’s awfully unlikely. How would he find out?”

“I think he’s a cop.”

The way Rachel said that, with conviction and not a second’s hesitation, told Anne she hadn’t arrived at the conclusion on the spur of the moment.

“There are all kinds of dirty cops,” she continued. “I probably sound paranoid, but I went with Graham for almost six months and I learned an awful lot about them.”

“I don’t think you sound paranoid,” Anne said honestly. “I was a P.I. for long enough to learn a lot about them, too.”

Rachel nodded, looking relieved. “Then you know the kind of scams they’ve got going. Now and then, Graham would tell me about some of them. And about how, if a cop has the right connections, he can find out pretty much whatever he wants. So when this guy says he’ll learn if Chase tells those detectives about the call, then I have to think that maybe he will.”

“I guess it’s possible.”

Anne hesitated, but she didn’t want Rachel thinking that by “possible” she meant “likely,” so she added, “The thing is, I have a problem with the idea of this guy in the park being a cop. Mugging just isn’t the sort of thing dirty cops are normally into.”

“But that doesn’t mean one of them can’t be. Or there could be more than one person involved. What if the mugger wasn’t a cop, but the guy who phoned Chase was? Maybe the mugger told him what had happened and the cop came up with the extortion plan.”

“No,” Anne said. “A mugging goes wrong and turns into a killing, then the killer admits this to a cop? That just doesn’t add up.”

“But…it might. If we’re talking about a crooked cop and a criminal who’ve worked together before. And maybe it was the mugger who came up with the extortion idea, but he realized he’d have a better chance of pulling it off if he had help. So he told the cop exactly what happened, then they came up with their plan to…” As her words trailed off, Rachel shook her head.

“Look,” she continued a moment later, “I know that doesn’t really add up, either. But when someone says that if Chase talks to the police about the phone call I’ll find myself framed for murder, it scares the hell out of me.”

“Well, that’s hardly surprising,” Anne told her. “And who knows? Maybe a cop is somehow involved.”

It must have been apparent that she was only trying to humor Rachel, because Chase said, “Rachel’s intuition is surprisingly good.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Then let’s assume there is a cop. Let’s even assume he could find out if Chase contacts those detectives.”

Rachel nodded for her to go on.

“After Chase has told them what the guy threatened to do, they’d hardly be surprised if the murder weapon turned up someplace that seemed to incriminate you. Or if it had been wiped clean. And they—”

“They might not be surprised,” Rachel interrupted, her voice quavering a little. “But it would give them one more piece of evidence against me. And even though everything they’ve got is circumstantial, if they end up with enough…”

“Everything?” Anne glanced at Chase, wondering what—and how much—he hadn’t told her.

“We didn’t really get beyond talking about the phone call,” he was saying to his sister. “That and what happened in the park. She doesn’t know about your clothes—yet.”