A Ghost of Justice (24 page)

54

"Does
your brother believe you, Dr. Sheafer?"

Eric leaned back in his chair.  "I don't know, John.  He's willing to hear me out, which means he is more reasonable than the rest of the men in the family, including his sons.  And, with Andrea as their mother, the only place they could have inherited that kind of closed-mindedness would be from their grandfather.  Bob's always been one to listen to both sides.  If it hadn't been for him, I'd probably been the family outcast long before now.  And you'd be dead, assuming they would still care about what happened to my family."

He leaned further back, the chair resting against the wall.  John cringed inwardly, half expecting a shrill woman's voice ordering Eric to sit straight.  "What happened down here while Dr. Angelucci was with me?  Ah, if you don't mind me asking."

"No, I don't.  It concerns you."  Eric sighed.  "My father and my nephews want you executed.  That is without doubt."

"And the two women?"

"Tricia - that's Frank's wife - goes the way of her husband.  Not possessed of an independent mind, that woman.  Embraces the new-old conventions.  But Andrea is another matter.  I'm not sure but what she never believed you to be guilty.  I think she has a sixth sense about people.  She's something else."

"Yeah," John agreed, remembering her penetrating eyes.  "She is."

The house DM chimed, cutting through their conversation.

"Now who?" he complained.  First checking the time, he said, "Em's been gone longer than I expected.  Maybe it's her.  That old car of hers…"  Casually, he said, "Yes?" accepting the call without bothering to check the ID.

A uniformed policeman appeared in the hologram.  The front legs of Eric's chair slammed to the floor as he sat upright.  The officer's mouth moved without sound.  The DM was still on private.

"Yes, Lieutenant Yates," Eric said excitedly.  "Do you have anything on Mr. Parker?  Of course.  You wouldn't be calling unless you did."  He listened intently as the image silently spoke, gestured and showed a document.  After almost a minute Eric said, "Yeah.  I got it… No, I'm not sure what it means, either.  Thank you…  No, I won't tell him.  But I would like to know what you find out…  Thank you very much."

Eric closed the connection and sat motionless, staring blankly.

Finally John asked him, "What was that all about?"

Eric turned his head slowly.  "I'm not certain what it means.  Do you remember me telling you about a detective named Parker?"

"He was murdered, wasn't he?"

Eric nodded.  "By a former client, it turns out.  But that isn't what concerns us.  What
does
is when he contacted Emily and I in Washington, he wouldn't tell us who hired him.  And the police in Richmond couldn't find out, either.  They got the sheriff here to access Parker's office and files - he was from here, you see - and they found out he was hired by Ed, my nephew.  Now, what I don't understand is why would Ed do that and not tell anyone.  Not even his father or mother."

John felt a coldness in his chest.  There was a promise that needed breaking.  "Ah, Dr. Sheafer?"

"Yes?"

"I… Emily told me not to tell, and I said I wouldn't.  but I think I need to.  Maybe I've got to."

Eric leaned forward.  "Tell me what?"

"I did see more than I told you."

"I thought so," he said without surprise.  "What was it?"

"Well, I didn't put it together until this afternoon."  John found it difficult.  No matter the truth, or its implications for himself, Ed was still the man's nephew.

"
This
afternoon?"

"When I saw your nephew's car."

"The van or the Jag?"

"The Jaguar.  It's the car I saw that night.  Emily's gone to talk to Ed about it."

"What?" Eric snapped.  "Why Ed?"

John's reluctance finally lifted.  He was coming to the conclusion that Emily could be in danger.  Quickly he said, "Because Frank had borrowed the car that night.  She wanted to ask Ed when he got it back, I guess.  That would pinpoint who was in it."

"Right.  And if it just happened to be Ed?  Damn!  It
was
Ed.  And she's over there right now."

John nodded, feeling sick, a different kind of sick.  Worse by far than the cold he was shaking off.  A thought: "Wait.  She has a gun."

Eric looked no less worried.  "No bullets.  I was afraid she'd shoot you so I took them when we were still in Richmond.

Another type of cold started spreading from John's stomach.

"Okay," Eric said swiftly.  He stood and turned to the DM.  Then he glanced at his PDM.  "No time," he declared.  "We can get out there in five minutes.  Come on."  He grabbed his jacket and ran out the back door.

John tipped his chair over, but ran, too.

55

"Tell
me about it, Ed.  I really want to know," Emily said.  She swung the necklace back and forth.  "There’s no other way this could be in your desk.  Why did you kill Steve and Kelly?"

Ed sighed.  "Okay."  He held up both hands, then put them back on the rim of the table.  "You're right.  I did it.  But it wasn't my fault."

"God!  Spare me that.  You expect me…"  Emily failed to find satisfactory words.  Her grip tightened on the pistol.  She willed it to have bullets.  "Just tell me how it happened," she said, clenching her jaw.

"All right.  I got home about eight-thirty.  Frank drove up around nine-fifteen.  He told me your brother had argued with him about prices.  Steve had said something about finding a printout in Joan Devereux's old desk, behind a drawer or something.  I…"  Ed raised one hand to his temple, then lowered it back.  "Devereux and I had a pricing thing going.  Frank didn't know anything about it.  You see, as an equal partner I can give substantial discounts on my own, so I'd quote full price to Joan and the school system, but I'd report it to the business at a full discount.  Nice and simple.  Then Joan and I would get to share a nice little bonus."

"Bastard.  Go on."
"I had the same thing working with a few other school systems and some large national corporations.  It was working very well.  But then Hardwick had to retire and get Joan get promoted.  She must've kept a record of her own and left a printout behind.  Steve saw it.  He told me.  He didn't fully understand it, because Joan didn't spell it out, but…  Damn.  Your brother was smart, Emmie."

"I know."

"He nearly had it figured out.  All he lacked were the details."  Ed's face contorted.  "He was going to tell the school board on Monday, Emmie.  My God!  They would have taken it from there.  It would've led to an investigation.  Cops.  Everything.  I'd be ruined.  Don't you see?"

Emily's eyes narrowed.  She would throw up if she had anything in her stomach more than the sip or two of coffee.  "For the sake of a little money you killed my brother and his wife?"

"It…wasn't just a little," Ed said as if it would excuse what he'd done.  His hand came up over his brow.

"And Joan Devereux?  Did you walk in on her as she left the message for Dad to call her?  The timing would be about right."

Still shading his face, Ed nodded.  "I was just outside her office.  I…heard every word."  He brought his hand back to the table.

Too fast for her to follow, Ed shoved on the table, heaving on it.  Emily heard his chair fall back just as hers began tipping backward.  She and the chair hit the floor, knocking her breath out.  Then the heavy oak table followed, landing squarely on her lower ribs.  She tried to cry out, but didn't have the wind for it.  The back of her head hurt and her ears filled with a loud ringing.

The useless gun skidded across the floor.  Ed snatched it up and aimed it at her.  She couldn't hear anything but she saw his finger contract once, twice.  He was actually pulling the trigger on her.  Thank God for no bullets.

Ed jerked back the action of the automatic, peering in on the chamber.  He snarled and threw the gun aside.

The ringing morphed into a dull roar in her ears as she gasped for air.  Finally she got in some rapid, shallow breaths, reaping a searing jolt through her chest for her efforts.  She nearly passed out from the pain.  Her ears cleared just as her shriek echoed in the kitchen.

56

"Damn
," Eric exclaimed as the light changed to red.

He slowed as he neared the intersection.  A few cars crossed.

John thought he was going to run the light until finally Eric stopped and shifted into first gear.

Eric's fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he fidgeted. Looking left, then looking right.  "Damn," he repeated.  Glancing up at the light, then left and right again, he let out the clutch and shoved down on the accelerator.

"What are you doing?" John gasped as they leapt through the intersection.

One car dodged them, blowing its horn.

"Shut up," he snapped.  "I don't have time for red lights."

"What if a cop stops us."

Eric kept the accelerator down as he veered onto Bryan Boulevard.  "They're welcome to follow, but I'm not about to stop."

The man has gone crazy, John thought as he tightened his grip on the dash.

57

Emily
sucked hungrily for air in quick, shallow gasps.  She felt a fire in her side with every breath.  The table still lay heavy on top of her.  Darkness kept trying relentlessly to snag her down.  She fought to stay conscious.

With a determination only slightly greater than the dark reaching for her, Emily retained wakefulness.  Dimly she was aware of Ed pacing the kitchen.  Then she saw him go over to the gun and pick it up.  He came and knelt over her.  He drew back his gun hand to strike her.

The action roused Emily enough to talk.  At the top of his backswing, she managed to rasp, "Is this how you killed Joan?"

Ed lowered the gun, crossed it over his knee, and smiled.  It wasn't friendly.  "Sort of," he said.  "I used her Administrator-of-the-Year award instead.  Didn't have access to a gun that time."

Then he struck her on the jaw with a backhand upswing.

Her vision left into something gray.  But she was still aware, waiting for the next blow, trying to move her arms.  He had her right wrist pinned painfully under his knee.  There seemed to be no strength in her left as she tried to raise it.

The blow didn't come.

The pressure left her arm.  Her vision returned, sort of.  She turned to see him, vague and fuzzy, still kneeling over her.  Just able to make out the new look he had on his face, she didn't like it.  "No.  there's a better way.  But first, you
do
have to be quiet."  Saying that, he swung the pistol down against the side of her head.

This time darkness won.  She blacked out.

The next thing she was aware of was Ed's voice in conversation.  There was no other voice.  Slowly she realized he was on the com of his PDM.

"Yeah, Dad.  She insisted on coming to see you.  I couldn't stop her…  Well, she's been drinking and that worries me…  I know that's not like her, but she
has
.  And you know how she drives."

Emily struggled to push the table off.  If she could just shout to her uncle…

The table rolled onto the floor with a dull thud.  With it off and to one side, her vision finally clear, Emily had a fine view of the back of Bob's hologram swirling into nothingness.  Ed had closed the connection.

The burning in her left side had taken on an old but familiar sensation.  Cousin Ed has broken my rib, she mused, surprised at her clearness of mind.  Or was she getting detached?  But her mind stayed a bit longer in this strange realm, bringing up the thought:
For old times' sake, break one more of ole Emily's bones before killing her
.

Then she must have passed out again because she was suddenly aware of being carried.  Roughly.  Each bounce brought a peak in her pain level.  One eye opened and she saw he was carrying her out through the garage.  The eye closed on its own.

But Ed was talking as if she were listening.

She caught snatches.  "…gotta at least be alive when you go in, cousin…can tell if you don't drown."

An exquisitely painful dumping sensation and it took her a moment to realize she was in the passenger seat of a car.  By then, the faint hissing from under the hood told her it was her own Mustang they were in.

58

John
felt his side of the car lift off the shocks a little as Eric veered off the exit ramp onto Fleming Road, heedless of any traffic.  Fortunately there was none close.

"Can you take the corners a little slower?  We can't do anything for Emily if you kill us," he said breathlessly.

"Your request has been noted," Eric said curtly as he stared hard and unwavering at the road.  He didn't slow at all through the next curve, accelerating instead as soon as they entered it.  Somehow they held the road.

John tensed in his seat as a car came toward them, just over the center line.

Eric stayed close to the shoulder as the two cars whipped past.  The only thing he did to acknowledge the near-disaster was to mutter, "Idiot."

Another curve appeared in the beams of their headlights, yellow and black arrow signs pointing right, warning of its sharpness.  John saw the speedometer creep past fifty.  "Slow down," he shouted.  "Please."

Eric paid no attention.  He eased over the center line himself, then turned them tightly into the inner edge of the curve.  The Volvo ran through it as if the tires were on rails.

A flood of light appeared ahead: a shopping center.  Several cars were turning in and out of its lot.  John had all he could handle.  He closed his eyes, waiting for tire squeals or the collision or both.

Instead, he was lunged against the shoulder strap as Eric downshifted, sharply decelerating.  Then they were whipped through a ninety-degree turn to the right.

He opened his eyes in time to see as they turned onto another road.  "What are we on now?  I don't know this area."  He spoke as much from curiosity as with relief they hadn't crashed.

"Lewiston Road," Eric said without emphasis, fully concentrating on his driving.  "Ed's suburb is about half a mile down."

John  was about to be thankful when a sign warned of a right-angle curve to the left.  He glanced again at the speedometer.  It rose past forty, in spite of the sign saying twenty-five was the fastest safe speed.

Just as they reached it, Eric down-shifted again.  The sudden drag on the car held it through.