Читать книгу Love Me To Death - Steve Jackson - Страница 10

Five

July 3, 1998

Neal held the blanket up to cover Candace Walters. She was sitting in the chair where just a few days earlier he’d murdered Rebecca Holberton, but Candace had not noticed the mummylike object wrapped in black plastic, partly covered by a scrap of carpet, over against a wall. If she did, he was prepared to tell her it was just some remodeling materials; he’d already warned her that the place was a mess.

Happy and excited, Candace balanced a briefcase on her lap as she waited for her “surprise” in the pretty white sundress she’d worn for their trip to Las Vegas. “No, Cody,” she complained, refusing the blanket. “I don’t want to mess up my hair.”

Neal shrugged. He knew better than to try to get the forty-eight-year-old woman to do something she didn’t want to do. Besides, she was already suspicious of him. So he gently draped the blanket around her shoulders. “Well, promise to keep your eyes closed,” he said as he walked behind her toward the closet where he kept the maul.

They’d met a few days after Christmas the year before, at a hotel where she worked as a bartender. He was charismatic and generous, tipping her extravagantly for every drink or courtesy. More than that, he was caring and such a good listener; after she got off work, they sat in a booth talking all night.

Cody, as he’d introduced himself, was mysterious about where all that money he threw around came from. But, she told her daughter, Holly, he was obviously a very sensitive man who’d almost cried as he talked about the court battle he was waging to gain custody of his young daughter. He’d invited her to a New Year’s Eve party that he was throwing at the hotel. She’d attended and had a great time with him.

Like Holberton, Candace Walters had once been married. But she and her husband had divorced some twenty-five years earlier, shortly after moving to Colorado with their infant daughter, Holly. They’d remained friends—in fact, when her father died shortly after the divorce and left her a small inheritance of a few thousand dollars, she’d used part of it to buy her ex-husband a household’s worth of furniture since he’d left her everything in the divorce—but she’d had few committed relationships since then. When the last one ended some four or five years earlier, she’d told her daughter, “I think I’ll just stay away from men.”

Holly didn’t mind; she’d loved having the bulk of her mother’s attention since earliest childhood. She’d lived with her mother until she was twenty-three, when she moved to Seattle. They’d talked nearly every day, but the separation had been too hard and Holly had moved back and into the same apartment complex as her mother. When Holly moved to a larger complex, Candace followed two months later and moved in next door.

The older they got, the closer they grew. They particularly loved taking nature walks in the foothills, sharing their days and their dreams. Walters didn’t have much in the way of material possessions, but her daughter loved listening to her philosophy about living life as fully as possible. Her dreams were simple: a small house of her own with a yard where she could keep a dog, and have enough free time to do the things she loved . . . like hiking with her daughter or just sitting around reading together, content just to be near.

When Candace glowed while talking about the New Year’s Eve party and her new boyfriend, Holly asked what she found attractive about him. “He makes me laugh” was the reply.

Holly accepted that, though she was surprised at how quickly the relationship blossomed over the next few weeks. Still, anyone who could make her mother so happy couldn’t be all bad, she reasoned. She was more concerned about getting her mother out of the bartending business; she didn’t like the hours and there was no telling whom she might meet. Shortly after the New Year, Holly, who owned a successful mortgage company, asked her mother to come work for her.

In the meantime, Candace Walters was spending an increasing amount of time and energy with Cody Neal. If she wasn’t out with him, she was talking to him on the telephone.

Holly was growing wary of the man with all the tall tales and seemingly endless supply of money. She knew her mother could take care of herself; she’d run away to Chicago to live on the streets for a time when she was fourteen, back in the days of Flower Power and hippies, and had turned out just fine. But she could also be extremely trusting and gave a lot of herself when she committed to a relationship, and she expected a lot in return.

Holly knew that despite her mother swearing off men, she was tired of being alone. And here came this guy, Mr. Cody Neal, offering the moon. She knew her mother well enough to know that it wasn’t the money he spent so freely but his presence and the way he communicated that held the attraction.

Holly worried about where this was all leading. For instance, there was the small matter of his supposed occupations. Early on, he’d told her mother that he was involved in real estate in Las Vegas. Then her mother came home with a story about him maybe being a bounty hunter, which was soon trumped by his having once been a hit man for a mob family. When Holly expressed concern about that bit of information, her mother assured her that—if it was even true, and she wasn’t convinced—he’d retired from the killing profession years ago. Even then, he’d only killed people who deserved it . . . bad men who crossed the family.

He also claimed he’d made $50 million dealing real estate in Hawaii. It was an enormous amount of money, but Holly knew from her own business that achieving such a sum in that market was feasible, if unlikely. He certainly acted like he had money—once even telling her mother that he had to fly to New York City for the weekend to look into purchasing rare gems. Her mother told her it was nothing for him to leave a $20 tip for a single drink or stuff a $100 bill into a bellhop’s hand.

Unfortunately, most of his money seemed to be tied up in a trust account. A judge had frozen the account while he was in a custody battle with his former wife for his young daughter. So sometimes, he explained, he had cash flow problems. It was during one of those times that he asked to borrow $1,500 from Candace. He was very mysterious about what he was going to do with the money, but said he needed her to ask for $1 bills in bundles of twenty.

Candace Walters didn’t have much in the way of savings, and what she did have, she had set aside so that she could go back to school and someday buy that dream home. But she loaned him the money and was relieved when he repaid it two days later and earlier than he said he would. She thought that showed that he could be trusted.

Holly wasn’t so sure. Her mother was happier than she’d ever seen her, and she didn’t want to jeopardize her mother’s relationship with Cody, but still she took down the license plate of the truck he drove . . . just in case.

She grew more alarmed when she learned in March that her mother had loaned him $6,000. Candace said he needed it for his battle to gain custody of his daughter. His ex-wife was a greedy stripper who wanted $300,000 to release custody of the child to him. He was willing to pay it, but his money was tied up in the trust fund. In the meantime, he had a team of lawyers he had to pay to get his money and his child. It had been absolutely heartbreaking when he tearfully told her that he believed that his daughter had been raped by a male friend of his ex-wife’s. He was so upset that he talked of killing the man.

By April, however, Candace Walters was troubled about the course of her relationship. On the one hand, she loved Cody and wanted to help him save his daughter, but he’d also borrowed nearly every cent she had in the world and made no mention of when she might be repaid. She began asking him about her money. He told her that he expected the trust fund would soon be unfrozen by the courts, but there was another problem of people wanting to get their hands on his money and he had to be careful. “The Family,” he said, also thought that his own lawyer might be leaking information to his ex-wife’s lawyer. Cody said he might have to kill the lawyer, “one last job.”

Candace wasn’t supposed to repeat any of this to her daughter or anyone else, but she told Holly everything. Living just a few doors from her mother, Holly had seen the mystery man and his truck, but she hadn’t been allowed to meet him yet. “He’s not ready,” her mother had explained.

Holly had been after her mother to find out more about him, but by June that had proved to be a frustrating task. He never gave her a telephone number, but insisted that he page her, usually from telephone booths. They also had no idea where he lived. He said he had a mansion in Las Vegas and a place in Denver, but he never asked her mother to visit either one.

The women looked on the Internet to locate any William Neal living in Nevada and thought they had hit the jackpot when they discovered a man by that name with an address in Henderson, Nevada. They got his number from directory assistance and called. A man answered, but he wasn’t Cody.

Then Holly caught Neal in a lie. She was out driving one night when she saw him at a bank of pay telephones. The problem was he’d told her mother that he was going to be out of town that weekend. After she told her mother, they decided to try to find out where he lived and look into what recourse Walters might have to get her money back.

Walters discovered a little more one night when she and Cody went out and he stopped at a convenience store to buy cigarettes. She used the opportunity to look in the glove box and found the title to the vehicle; it was registered to a woman named Rebecca Holberton. There wasn’t enough time to read more before she saw her date returning.

Now Candace Walters was really conflicted. She cared for him. He seemed to identify with her dreams of owning a home and not having to worry so much about money. He said when his ship came in, she would be rewarded for her assistance to him. In the meantime, he showed her a good time; she’d never had so many roses or ridden in so many limousines. Maybe, she reasoned, there was a good reason for the secrecy and even the lies. Something to do with being a bounty hunter or even his connections to the mob, something he didn’t want her involved in for her own safety. He’d warned her repeatedly that it would be dangerous for her to reveal what he told her to others.

She wasn’t ready to give up on him. When he asked if she would approach her daughter, Holly, about a job for him, she agreed. He seemed ill a lot—his cough was worse—but needed to make some money as the legal battle was going on longer than expected. Of course that meant he finally had to meet Holly at her mother’s apartment.

When Holly showed up that afternoon, her mother was nervous, reminding her that she couldn’t let on that she knew much about Neal. Holly was prepared to find him a little standoffish because of all the secrecy; when they met, however, he shook her hand warmly and turned on the charm.

Holly had to concede that he talked a good game regarding the real-estate business. He even knew some of the terminology, such as LTV, or “loan to value.” She was also touched by his story about fighting for custody of his daughter; he even brought out a photograph of the child as tears welled in his eyes. From her own experience, Holly knew how strong the bond between a parent and child could be.

A couple of days later, she had him meet her partner and, after conferring, they gave him the job as an independent contractor—he could use the office (her mother bought him a desk and a telephone line) and company resources and split his commission with them. He started like gangbusters; she heard him taking in a loan application before he’d officially even settled in. However, the enthusiasm didn’t last long. Within two weeks, he was complaining about being too ill to work. He coughed a lot and she had to admit that he didn’t look good. He seemed tired, wrung out.

The job was an afterthought when he called Candace Walters one day in late June to say that his funds, at last, were going to be available. She’d been after him about her money, and had confronted him about the truck title and the woman named, Rebecca Holberton. Maybe she should have a talk with Holberton and find out what was going on. Now, he said, that wouldn’t be necessary. She was going to get her money, and he had another surprise or two for her. First they were going to fly to Las Vegas, make a party of it. Then not only was she going to get her money back, he was going to give her $100,000 for having been so cooperative, as well as keeping his secrets.

In the days that followed, the news just kept getting better. He told her one day that he’d just bought them both a one-way ticket to Las Vegas. Once there, they were going to be handed the keys to brand-new Toyota 4Runner trucks, one of which would be hers to keep and drive back to Colorado. What’s more, she wasn’t going to get $100,000, she was going to receive $2.5 million; there would be $1 million in cash when they got to Las Vegas, and the rest was going to be wired into her bank account. He even had her call her bank to ascertain how to go about transferring such a large amount. Every day there seemed to be some new addition until, finally, in addition to everything else, he’d decided to buy her a mansion in Las Vegas, just a few doors down from his own mansion.

Walters was overwhelmed, though she confided to her daughter that she only half believed him. Holly worried about the outlandish gifts, but there wasn’t enough time to process what was happening. Her mother was certainly happier than she’d seen her in a long time, and Holly didn’t want to rain on her mother’s parade. The worst that could happen would be for him to disappoint her mom; then they’d go after him to get her money back.

In the meantime, Holly was busy getting ready for a business trip back to Missouri to start a new branch of her business. Coincidentally, or so it seemed, Cody announced that he and Candace would leave for Las Vegas on Friday, July 3, the day before Holly was due to leave. They would be returning Sunday.

As the day for Holly to leave approached, she and her mother took their walks in the foothills and talked about how their lives would be changed when they got back from their trips. It was still hard to believe that it was going to happen, but Neal kept acting as though everything was going according to plan. He’d told Candace to get rid of her wardrobe and sell her car as she wasn’t going to need them.

Holly was surprised when her mother told her that she was going to sell her car. It was just a little Toyota sedan, but she’d worked so hard to pay it off and was so proud of the accomplishment.

On July 1, Holly decided to pay a surprise visit to her mother. She arrived to find Cody knocking at the front door. He gave her an extra warm hug when she walked up. He was in a great mood.

Unknown to Holly or her mother, the day before he’d driven to a building-supplies store and purchased a number of items, including a seven-and-a-half-pound maul. Afterward, he had driven home and bashed in the skull of Rebecca Holberton.

Candace Walters was flustered to find her daughter and boyfriend on the same doorstep. She and Cody were supposed to go out that night to celebrate, but he was early and she hadn’t had time to shower. He said that he had only stopped by to give her something he had in a box in his hands, but he wanted to do so in private. He and Candace excused themselves, and when they emerged a few minutes later, they embraced and kissed.

Holly was uneasy about the display of affection. She just didn’t trust the guy. As he was leaving, he hugged her. “If I don’t see you again,” he said, “have a great weekend.”

When he was gone, Candace dragged her daughter back to her bedroom, hardly able to contain her excitement. Cody had dropped off a photo album with pictures of his mansion in Las Vegas, as well as the one that would be hers—proof that what he said was the truth.

Holly couldn’t believe her eyes. The houses were huge, bordered with palm trees, and both had swimming pools. They looked like the sort of homes that movie stars lived in. He’d also given her a $50 bill, half of $100 that “The Family” had sent him, symbolic of his new status; he’d given her half. “He said, half of what was his, was also mine,” Walters explained.

On July 3, Holly stopped by her mother’s again. Candace was a bundle of nerves; part of it was paranoia. Cody had warned her that if she talked about any of what was to happen, there might be dire consequences, and she’d told Holly everything. She placed her purse in the closet “in case it’s bugged” before she would talk that morning. She just couldn’t believe that the day had come, her dreams would be answered beyond her wildest imagination. It wasn’t the money, though she wasn’t going to turn that down, but rahter what it represented—time. Time to slow down and smell the roses. Time to watch her daughter grow to womanhood; maybe there’d be a grandchild some day. At least she would no longer have to worry about how to pay the utility bill or buy groceries and still make the mortgage. And she owed it all to Cody. He really cared about her, enough that he bought her a home near his. They had been wrong to doubt him.

Walters was in a rush. She was supposed to take her car to a dealership. She asked Holly to take a photograph of her with the car, admitting she was “a little sad” that she was selling it.

Then it was time for Holly to go. They hugged, holding each other tight, and wished each other safe trips. “I love you,” they said to each other, and parted.

Later that afternoon, Candace called her daughter to say she’d sold her car for $3,000. Now she was really nervous. Cody was on his way. For the last time, they told each other how much they loved each other. Then Candace was gone.

Neal drove Walters to the town house on West Chenango, saying he needed to stop for her first “surprise.” He used the garage door opener to enter the garage and close the door behind him. “The place is a mess,” he apologized with a smile as he let her into the apartment.

The light of the dying sun could only feebly make it through the paper-covered windows. Neal had been honest. The place was a mess. There were unwashed dishes and the remains of meals on every open space, especially a table over near the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. There was a footlocker and a circular saw on the floor, along with a variety of other construction materials. She didn’t take any particular notice of the black object over against a wall and only partially covered with a carpet remnant.

Neal led her over to a kitchen chair in the middle of the living-room floor. He had her sit down, and with a flourish, he produced a briefcase. It was heavy, as though filled with tens of thousands of dollars. He tried to place the blanket on her head, but she held up her hands.

“No, Cody,” she complained. “I don’t want to mess up my hair.”

Neal shrugged and gently draped the blanket around her shoulders. “Well, promise to keep your eyes closed,” he said as he walked behind her toward the closet where he kept the maul. He returned with the weapon partly raised, pausing for a moment to note how studious and trusting she seemed there in her white sundress.

The ax went up and then down again. This time he used the blade side of the maul to cleave deep into Candace’s skull above her left ear. He yanked the blade out and struck again, near the first mark; as she fell, he struck her again on the neck. When he finished, he walked back to the closet and replaced the maul.

Returning to the body, he had one final act to perform on Candace Walters, a woman who’d never done anything to harm him. A woman who’d loved him. A woman who’d given him her life savings to help him win custody of a daughter he’d never really cared about, except as a line of bullshit to win over the hearts of caring women. He unzipped his pants, pulled out his penis, and then urinated on his victim’s head and shoulders.

A lot of blood was pooling on the floor, so he placed her head in a clear plastic bag. He didn’t bother to wrap the rest of her in lawn bags, but dragged her body over next to the fireplace, where he covered her with a blanket.

That done, he dragged a mattress into the room near the sliding glass door so that anyone sitting in the death chair would be facing it. Holberton’s body was off to one side of the mattress against the wall. He then screwed the four eyebolts he’d purchased into the plywood flooring at each corner of the mattress. Next he measured and cut four lengths of rope, one for each eyebolt.

He stepped back and surveyed his work. He was ready for the next phase of his plan. But first he needed to get showered and dressed. He was taking two young women out for a night on the town, and he planned on having a real good time.