James Grippando - Beyond Suspicion

“I’m just feeling him out, okay? From what I’ve seen of Dr. Marsh, he’s way too impressed by his own cleverness. If I keep my composure and push the right buttons, I honestly think he’s arrogant enough to say something we can use to hang him.”

She shook her head, as if she didn’t approve. “I see there’s no talking you out of this.”

“Nope.”

“You realize I’m not going with you. The last thing I need to do is be a witness to a conversation that might disqualify me from being your lawyer.”

“I agree.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” He stepped down from the car, pushed the door shut, and headed up the walkway. It was a short walk, but it seemed long. The small front lawn was well kept, surrounded by an eight-foot-tall cherry hedge that was trimmed and squared-off neatly to resemble fortress walls. Jack almost checked for a moat. Long rows of colorful impatiens flanked either side of the curved path of stepping stones that led to the front door. The driveway was off to the left, and the doctor’s Mercedes was parked in it. That was promising, almost as good as a sign on the door saying the doctor is in.

Jack climbed one step at a time, three in total, acutely aware of the scratchy sound of his soles on rough concrete. This was technically no sneak attack, but the closer he got to the front door, the less welcome he felt. It wasn’t anything he heard or saw. Just vibes.

He drew a breath and knocked on the door.

A full minute passed. Jack heard nothing. He knocked again, a little harder. Then he waited. He checked his watch. Almost ninety seconds. It was a small house. Even from the most remote corner, it couldn’t possibly take more than a minute or so to reach the front door. Unless he was showering or sleeping or-

Who the hell cares if I’m bothering him ? He knocked a third time, a good solid pounding that could easily have preceded the announcement, Police, open up!

He waited a full three minutes. No one home. Or at least no one was willing to come to the door. In the back of his mind he could almost see Rosa smiling and saying something along the lines of Just as well, God’s doing us a favor .

He turned away and climbed down the stairs. Instead of taking the serpentine footpath, he exited by way of the driveway, a more direct route to the street. The silver Mercedes was a ghostly shade of gray in the moonless night. It seemed odd that the car was in the driveway and yet the doctor hadn’t answered the door. Jack took two more steps toward the driveway, then froze. He hadn’t noticed in the darkness, but on the other side of the big Mercedes was a smaller, black vehicle, almost invisible in the night. It was a Volkswagen Jetta, and in an instant, Jack recognized it.

Theo?

He sprinted toward the Jetta, pressed his face to the glass and peered through the dark, tinted windows. Theo’s windows were so dark they were illegal, making it impossible to see in. Jack walked around to the windshield, but he saw nothing inside. He tried the doors, but they were locked. He stepped back and nearly bumped into Dr. Marsh’s Mercedes. As he turned, something inside caught his eye. The driver-side window wasn’t as dark as Theo’s, so he could make out the image inside.

His heart was suddenly in his throat.

A man was slumped sideways over the console, his torso stretching from the driver’s seat to the passenger side. On impulse, Jack opened the door and pulled him straight up in his seat.

“Dr. Marsh!” he said, as if he could revive him.

The doctor was staring back at him, eyes wide open, but the stare was lifeless. The back of his head was covered with blood.

Jack released his grip, his hands shaking. The body fell face-first against the steering wheel. He backed away, grabbed his cell phone, and dialed 911, his mind racing with one scary thought.

Theo, where on God’s earth are you?

•

Before Dr. Marsh’s death hit the late-evening news, Jack was at Theo’s townhouse. He’d driven Theo home from his late-night gigs often enough to know that a key was behind the barbecue in the backyard. Technically speaking, he was still trespassing, but a true friend didn’t stand on the sidelines at a time like this.

The police arrived at Dr. Marsh’s house within minutes of the 911 call. They’d asked plenty of questions about Theo’s whereabouts. Jack didn’t have any answers, and he quickly realized that it was up to him to go out and get them.

Jack turned the key in the lock, then pushed the door open. He took a step inside, and switched on a light. Almost immediately his heart thumped, as the big cuckoo clock on the kitchen wall began its hourly ritual. In a minute, Jack could breathe again, and he watched the wooden characters continue their little dance around the musical clock. They weren’t the typical cuckoo-clock figures. Instead of the little man with the hammer who comes out and strikes the bell, this one had an axe-wielding woodsman who lopped off a chicken’s head. Theo had ordered it from some offbeat mail-order catalog and given it to Jack after his successful last-minute request for a stay of execution. Jack gave it back when Theo was finally released from prison. Death row did weird things to your sense of humor.

But I still like having you around, buddy.

Jack continued down the hall and headed for the bedroom. In Jack’s mind, it wasn’t even within the realm of possibility that Theo might have killed the doctor. Jack hadn’t exactly spelled it out this way to the police, but even if you believed that Theo was capable of murder, he was way too savvy to pull the trigger and then leave his car parked on the victim’s front lawn.

Still, there were two most likely possibilities. Either Theo was on the run or something awful had happened to him. After mulling it over, Jack settled on a surefire way to rule out one of them.

The bedroom door was open, and Jack went inside. A small lamp on the dresser supplied all the light he needed. This wasn’t the kind of search that required him to slice open seat cushions, upend the mattress, or even check under the bed. Jack went straight to the closet and slid open the door.

Instantly, he saw what he was looking for. It was in plain view, exactly where Theo kept it. He popped open the black case to reveal a high-polished, brass instrument glistening in the light.

Jack took the saxophone in his hands and held it the way Theo would have. He could almost hear Theo playing, felt himself connecting with his friend. Jack had no idea where Theo was, but this much he knew: Theo had lived without his music for too long in prison, and he would never do it again. Not by choice.

His heart sank as he considered Theo’s fate-as the least scary of possibilities evaporated in Jack’s mind.

No way he ran .

Carefully, almost lovingly, he placed the sax back on the closet shelf, then headed for the door.

•

The Luna Lodge was the kind of seedy motel that could be rented by the week, the day, or the hour. Katrina didn’t want to stay a minute longer than necessary, but she wasn’t feeling optimistic. She’d sprung for the weekly rate.

She’d chosen a ground-floor room in the back where guests could come and go from their cars with virtually no risk of being spotted. Privacy was what the Luna Lodge was all about, with an extra set of clean sheets coming in at a close second. She could hear the bed squeaking in the room above her. For a solid thirty-five minutes, it sounded like the bedposts pounding on her ceiling. The guy upstairs was Superman, but that wasn’t what was keeping her awake. She’d spent hours seated in a lumpy armchair that faced the door, wondering how deep was the mess she’d gotten herself into.