Cold Justice Page 3

  Rand frowned and shook Jake’s hand, nodding at Annie. He motioned toward a single empty chair. Jake moved aside and let Annie sit down, and he stood and tucked one hand in his pocket, waiting for an answer.

  Rand was still frowning as he looked up at Jake. “What’s this about?”

  Annie cleared her throat. Jake took the hint and shut his mouth. He should let her ask the questions. She was always a little more calm and patient than him.

  “On behalf of Philip Macy, we are looking into his wife’s claim she saw somebody killed on your property.”

  Rand leaned back. “I don’t know anything about that.” He sounded impatient. “I already talked to the police and told them everything I know. Nothing.”

  “Yes,” Annie said, “we saw the police report.”

  “I have nothing more to tell you.”

  “Mr. Rand, are you divorced?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your wife moved out west?”

  “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Probably nothing. Are you seeing anyone now? A woman?”

  “None of your business.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Rand,” Annie said. “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just if there was anyone in the house other than you, perhaps she heard or saw something after midnight Sunday evening.”

  Rand rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I’m too busy for a girlfriend, and I start work early in the mornings. I was home alone. And asleep. I heard nothing. I saw nothing.” He raised his voice. “In fact, I don’t think there was anything to see. That woman made it all up.” He stood up. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I’d like to get back to work.”

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Rand,” Annie said as she stood.

  Jake smiled slightly and nodded. “Thanks,” he said, as he turned to leave.

  Back in the car, Annie turned to Jake. “He wasn’t very receptive was he?”

  Jake shrugged as he turned the key. “Maybe he was just annoyed with answering the same questions twice.”

  “Maybe,” Annie said. “Maybe not.” She dug her notepad out of her handbag and consulted it. “Rand lives at 76 Silverpine Street. Just down from the Macy’s house. I want to go there.

  Jake shrugged and backed the car out of the slot and sped away, heading for Silverpine.

  “What do you expect to see there?” he asked.

  “Maybe nothing. I just want to get a feel for the place.”

  Annie studied the report a little more as they drove. She looked up as they pulled onto Silverpine Street. She watched the numbers on the houses. “There it is.”

  Jake pulled up to the curb in front of number 76 and Annie climbed out. She stood on the sidewalk for a moment, surveying the house, and then walked across the lawn and stopped at the front of the house underneath a picture window. She studied the grass for a minute. It appeared normal. Nothing scuffed up or any obvious signs of a struggle.

  She went to the side of the house and looked toward the rear. It was open all the way through. She kept her eyes on the ground, walking slowly toward the rear of the house. Reaching the back, she could see the yard was well kept, the lawn manicured, with a couple of large maple trees bordering the far side. Except for a few bushes, the back of the large lot joined in seamlessly with the neighbor’s property behind. She could see past that to the street beyond.

  There was a small wooden deck attached to the back of the house. She climbed up the three stairs and peeked inside the sliding door, into the kitchen. There were dirty dishes piled on the counter. Just one plate. She thought the floor could do with a sweeping.

  She went back around to the front of the house. The street was deserted except for Jake watching her, so she stepped up to the picture window. She had to stand on her tiptoes to see in. There was no one inside, and everything appeared normal.

  She stepped back and went to the front door. She rang the doorbell and waited. She rang again. No answer. If Rand was telling the truth, it certainly did appear he lived alone.

  She went back to the car and climbed in. Jake looked at her. “Well?”

  She shrugged and shook her head. “Nothing much to see. He appears to live alone.”

  “What next?” Jake asked as he started the car.

  “I have no idea. Home for now.”

  Chapter 6

  Wednesday, August 17th, 12:05 PM

  SAMANTHA RIGGS knocked on the door of the Macy home.

  In a few moments, Abigail Macy opened the door as far as the security chain would allow. She peeked through. She was still dressed in her housecoat, and looked exhausted and physically drained. She brightened somewhat when she saw the visitor. She closed the door again, and removed the chain.

  “Sam,” she said, as she smiled feebly and swung the door open. “Come in.”

  Sam smiled and stepped inside. “I’m taking an extended lunch break today. I just wanted to see how you’re doing, Abby. It’s been a while.”

  Sam followed as Abby walked slowly into the living room, her slippers scratching wearily along the floor. She dropped into an armchair. Sam sat on the couch opposite and leaned forward. “Is everything ok?” she asked.

  “Not really.”

  Samantha works for Philip Macy’s firm as an assistant accountant, and her and Abby had been friends for some time. “We really miss you at work,” she said, looking concerned.

  Abby nodded. “I miss you too, but I just haven’t felt like doing much of anything lately.” She sighed and looked at the table beside her, at a photo of her husband holding a small child.” She was lost in thought for a moment, and then looked back at Sam.

  Sam said, “Philip doesn’t talk much about what’s going on with you, but you know me; I have a way of getting information.” She laughed, and then continued, “He says you have been feeling more down in the last couple of days. What’s going on?”

  Abby sighed and studied Sam before saying, “I saw a terrible thing.”

  Sam cocked her head.

  “But nobody believes me.”

  “Yes?”

  Abby hesitated.

  “I’ll believe you, Abby. We’ve known each other for a long time.”

  Abby looked down. She rubbed her hands and twisted her fingers into a knot. Finally, she looked up and spoke. “Sunday night I was coming home... I was just out for a walk, and I saw... just a few houses down... I saw somebody... a woman... killed.”

  Sam sat frozen, her mouth and eyes wide open.

  Abby continued, “I told Philip. He believes me, but the police don’t.”

  Sam was finally able to speak, but all she could say was, “Wow.”

  “The police looked into it, but they found nothing.”

  “Do you know... did you see who it was?”

  Abby shrugged. “I didn’t see the woman’s face.”

  “But the killer. Did you see him?”

  Abby hesitated. “Yes,” she said finally.

  “Didn’t you tell the police?”

  “No. I have been afraid to say anything. If they can’t find any evidence it happened... well, if I say anything, I’m afraid he may come after me. He saw me. He knows who I am. He chased me home, but then left when I got to the door.”

  “But you saw his face?”

  Abby nodded.

  “Do you know him?”

  Abby nodded again.

  “So, are you going to tell me who it was?”

  Sam sat still, shocked, and unable to speak, as Abby told her whom she had seen that night, murdering a woman on the front lawn of her neighbor’s house.

  Wednesday, August 17th, 12:15 PM

  JAKE HAD INTENDED to serve the legal papers yesterday, but time just hadn’t allowed it. He dug the paper from his wallet containing the address for Franklin & Franklin.

  He poked his head into the kitchen where Annie was cleaning up after their quick lunch. “I’m going to serve those papers now, I shouldn’t be too long,” he said.

  Annie threw t
he dishcloth into the sink and turned around. “Your timing is impeccable.”

  “Huh?”

  “Mom is coming over. I know how much you’d love to see her.”

  “Yeah, like a bad cold.”

  Annie laughed. “I’ll tell her you had to go out for awhile. I don’t expect she’ll be here long.” She looked at her watch. “You can probably come home safely by two o’clock or so.”

  “Then I’d better get moving,” he said as he walked over and leaned down, giving her a quick kiss. Annie held on, her arms wrapped around his neck, enjoying his smiling brown eyes for a few moments before letting him go.

  He grabbed his keys by the door and was gone, the Firebird roaring down the street and out of sight.

  Franklin & Franklin was on the third floor of a high-rise office building in the downtown core of the city. He made it there in a few minutes and swooped into the taxi waiting area. He strode through the revolving door and into the lobby of the building. People were hustling about, suits with briefcases scurrying to and from the elevators, clicking and clacking of heels, echoing off the Italian marble floor. Urgent business of all kind being done at a never-ending frenzy.

  Jake slid into the elevator behind two professionals in thousand dollar suits, and pressed 3 on the panel. They ignored him, talking urgently about an impending court case, and the hanging judge it had been their luck to draw. The elevator dinged, and the doors swung open on the second floor. Two chatty women bustled in and touched the 12 button. The elevator rose again, the door slid, and Jake stepped out onto the third floor.

  Franklin & Franklin took up the entire floor of the building. Jake cursed himself for not doing this yesterday. This was a great firm to get in good with, and he would like to see more business come their way.

  He gave his name to the receptionist. She was expecting him, and she withdrew a manila envelope from a cubbyhole in front of her. She handed it to him with a warm smile. “His addresses are here,” she said, pointing to a paper attached to the front of the envelope.

  Jake looked at it briefly, smiled and thanked her. “I’ll get this done right away.”

  She beamed back at him, and watched him as he turned and left. She sighed dreamily, and went back to work.

  Jake squeezed back into the elevator as it dinged open, and then dropped to the lobby. Another swarm was desperate to get on as the doors clanked open. He swung out and crossed the expansive lobby, and then back onto the sidewalk, breathing in the fresh air, glad to be out of the incessant hive of activity.

  Back in his vehicle, he looked at his watch, and then at the information attached to the envelope. He will be at work now, he thought. He memorized the address and tossed the envelope onto the passenger’s seat.

  He had lived in Richmond Hill all of his life, and knew every street and alley in the city. He dropped the shifter into reverse, and backed out. He squealed away, roaring past a cop who was giving a parking ticket to some unfortunate citizen. The cop looked up and frowned, watching the Firebird speed out of sight, taking a left at the next lights.

  In a few minutes, Jake turned onto Branson Street. He watched for Jackson Auto, and saw it just ahead on the right. He rumbled into the lot and parked behind a banged-up Tercel. He grabbed the envelope and swung from his vehicle.

  The huge garage door at the front of the decaying building was wide open. A car was up on the hoist, and a mechanic was changing the oil. Jake saw a steady drip, drip, from the transmission and knew the owner would be in for a wallet-breaking job very soon.

  Two guys were on the side wall, one standing with his hands tucked firmly in his pockets, the other leaning against a work bench, puffing on a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Jake couldn’t hear what they were saying, and as he walked toward them, they stopped their chatting and looked at him.

  Smoker raised his brows at Jake. “Can I help you?” Tiny puffs of smoke shot from his mouth as he talked.

  “I’m looking for Fred Thornbury?”

  The other guy said, “I’m Fred.”

  Fred took the envelope as Jake handed it to him.

  “You’ve been served,” Jake said, as he turned and walked away. He grinned as he listened to Fred cursing and sputtering, until he jumped in the Firebird, shutting out the angry sounds.

  Chapter 7

  Wednesday, August 17th, 12:37 PM

  ANNIE WAS IN the office doing some invoicing and looking after a few bills, when the doorbell rang. That’ll be Mom, she thought. She hurried to the door and opened it.

  Alma Roderick was approaching sixty years old, and despite her often-sour disposition, had kept a youthful appearance. She was still an attractive woman, with a good figure. She could be considered beautiful on the occasions when she allowed her tight lips to unfurl into a smile. It was obvious where Annie had gotten her good looks.

  She smiled thinly and came in as Annie stepped back. She bustled straight into the kitchen and sat at the table. She crossed her legs and looked at Annie who had followed and sat across from her.

  “Hello Mom,” Annie said.

  “Hello, darling. I don’t get to see my daughter enough.”

  Annie faked a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

  “How is Matthew?”

  “Matty is fine, Mom. We’re all doing well.”

  “I am still hoping you will accept my offer and get him out of that infernal school. You know, Richmond Academy is where he should be.”

  Annie sighed. “Thank you Mom, but he is doing well where he is. He’s at the top of his class in most subjects.”

  “We are willing to help you with that. Financially, I mean.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” Annie said firmly.

  Alma sniffed and looked around the kitchen, as if looking for a dirty dish on the counter, or a buildup of dust, or anything other than perfection. She seemed satisfied and turned her nose back toward Annie. “I was worried about you getting involved in that murderous affair. You could have been killed yourself.”

  “It turned out fine, Mom.”

  “Still, with a serial killer on the loose, you never know what’s going to happen.”

  “He’s behind bars. He won’t be hurting anyone ever again.”

  “And they have you to thank for that. I can’t imagine, Jake getting you involved with that.” She shook her head.

  “It wasn’t Jake, Mother. It was my decision as well.”

  Alma leaned forward, her voice lower. “I seriously hope you will consider getting out of that dangerous business and getting back into something safe.”

  Annie stood up. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Mom?”

  “Yes, I have time for a quick cup,” she sighed.

  There was nearly a full pot left, so Annie poured two mugs, sitting them on the table, along with cream and sugar.

  Alma put half a spoonful of sugar in her cup and poured in a drop or two of cream. She stirred her coffee thoughtfully, and then said, “Your father could probably use a bookkeeper if you would consider that.”

  Annie knew her father’s small local trucking and delivery business had no need of a full-time bookkeeper, so she said, “We’re fine, Mom. We’re doing well. We’ve had a lot of publicity lately and we can pick and choose what we do. You don’t have to worry about us.”

  “I still worry. Please stay away from dangerous people. Let the police do that. That’s what they get paid for, and they get paid well, I might add.”

  Annie wondered if the modest paycheck the police actually received, was worth risking their lives for, especially for ungrateful people like her mother, but she said nothing. It was hopeless to argue with her, especially over such a pointless claim.

  They sipped their coffee silently for a moment. Finally, Alma asked, “Where is Jake? Out looking for a job, I hope?”

  “He has a job, and right now he’s delivering some court papers for a legal firm.” Annie smiled. “It’s quite safe, I assure you.”

  Alma sniffed again and loo
ked at her watch. “ I must go,” she said as she stood up. “I have to be at work by two. I have a regular coming in, and she likes her hair done just so. They’d be lost without me there.”

  Annie stood and followed her mother to the foyer. She smiled as she shut the door, and then sighed deeply, walking back to the office, irritated and frustrated.

  Wednesday, August 17th, 12:55 PM

  ABIGAIL MACY had been pacing the floor for some time. What she was considering doing could be dangerous, but then on the other hand, perhaps it may help her out of a frightening situation. At any rate, she assumed it couldn’t make things worse.

  She made a decision, strode quickly into the kitchen and picked up the phone before she could change her mind.

  She consulted a pad on the counter, and dialed a number. She was shivering a bit as she spoke his name, and gave hers, asking to speak to him.

  “Yes Abigail, what is it?” she heard him ask.

  “I want to assure you I won’t tell anyone what I saw.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I know you saw me,” she whispered hoarsely, “but I won’t say anything.”

  Silence on the line for a minute, then, “What did you see?”

  “I saw you... saw you... and that woman.”

  More silence.

  Abby was wondering if she had made the right decision in calling, but continued, “I didn’t tell the police, or my husband, and I never will.”

  Silence, then, “I really don’t know what you are talking about Abigail.”

  Abby hesitated. Did he not know it had been her? But no, he had chased her home, and he knew where she lived. He surely knows I saw him.

  “Please,” she said, “I will do whatever you ask.”

  “Anything?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said eagerly.

  “Then please don’t call me again.” She heard a click on the line. He was gone.

  She had hoped he would at least admit it, but then realized, he couldn’t say he had murdered someone over the phone. The line may be bugged, or tapped, or whatever it’s called. He had to play it safe and pretend he didn’t know. She hoped he would accept her promise not to say anything, but was still fearful.