“No. I like listening to you. Sometimes I don't think I talk enough. Conversation is an art form, I guess. I never mastered it.”
The two women made small talk until they arrived at Dominic's in Avenel. When they were seated with frosty beer bottles in front of them, Stella said, “Now tell me what's wrong? Did something happen to that guy in Hawaii? He was one cool dude, Annie.”
“He asked me to marry him. I said yes.”
“Well, we need to drink a toast to that!” Stella said, clinking her beer bottle against the one in Annie's hand.
“I sent him a Federal Express letter breaking it off two days ago.”
Stella waved away the waitress and set her beer bottle down carefully. “What am I missing here?”
“A long story.”
“I have all night. Before I forget, I want to tell you Joe went to the library here at Rutgers and read up on everything that was ever printed about you. We kind of view you as our own personal guardian angel the way you came out of the blue and did all this good stuff for us. We think it's just great that you were voted Businesswoman of the Year three times. You do all that good stuff for people no one knows about. Somebody had to do some heavy digging to .come up with all those words they wrote about you. That must make you feel really good. It was easier after reading all that to understand why you helped me and Joe. You're a really good person, Annie. So I guess you had your reasons for whatever you felt you had to do with your fella. Want to tell me that long story? It will never go any further than right here.”
Annie felt a lump start to form in her throat. She could feel hot tears prick her eyelids. “I do need to talk to someone, Stella. If you ever tell a soul what I'm about to tell you, you could ruin my life. We need to be clear on this from the git-go.”
Stella squirmed in her chair, her eyes wide and curious. “We're clear on it, Annie. Talk.”
Annie talked. And talked. “Now do you understand why I can't marry Parker?”
“I understand why you
think
you can't marry Parker. If he loves you, it won't make any difference. What came before isn't important, Annie. That was your other life before you met him, and, to tell you the truth, that life is none of his damn business. As for that other...
episode
, that's over too. You paid it all back. Where the hell is Bonnie Doone, North Carolina? So you kept it a little longer than you should have. I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing. It's so easy to Monday morning quarterback as Joe says. Listen to me, you aren't thinking of doing something foolish like
confessing
, are you? Please tell me the answer is no.”
“I have been thinking about it, Stella. The problem is, I don't have the guts to do it. I just have this feeling the net is about to drop around me. It might be better if I turn myself in and take my punishment. This has hung over me for too many years. I think about it every single day of my life. It's the only wrong thing I've ever done in my entire life. To this day, I don't know why I kept that money. To answer your question, Bonnie Doone is H-fourteen on the map. I drove there and left the rest of the money. It was out of my way. Maybe they'll tie it to me, and maybe they won't. I did it at night. I'm not sure, but I think I put a lot of extra money in the bags. I put a lot of Clorox and fabric softener in the water behind the toilet. That was kind of clever, don't you think? I couldn't risk doing the washing-machine thing again.”
“I need to think about this, Annie. I don't want you going off half-cocked and doing something you'll regret.”
“What would you do, Stella?”
“I sure as hell wouldn't volunteer anything. I think I'd wait for them to catch up with me, and I don't see that happening. The case is closed, you paid back all of the money. The guy that got out of jail is just bitter and angry. A jury convicted him. He's probably lying about not being involved. If his father was as rich as you say he was at the time, the kid would have had the best defense going. So, what went wrong that a jury didn't buy into it? As for that insurance guy,
pffft,
he's history, too. He probably has a black mark on his personnel file and wants it erased. In the end the bank paid back the insurance money. Nobody is out anything.”
“Except me. I'm out of all my emotions. I just want it to be over. What are they going to do to me if I confess?”
“Toss you in the slammer for starters. Now, how's that going to look?”
“Stella, it's wearing me down. My shoulders feel like I'm carrying the weight of the world on them. So I get some jail time, I take my lumps, and when I get out, Elmo will be gone, Jane and Daisy will have a jailbird for a friend, and I'll go off to some mountain retreat to live out my days. It's not pretty, is it?”.
“God, no. Annie, you have a lot of money. I assume you must have some of the best lawyers money can buy. Oh, all right, let's order, Annie. I'll have the ravioli and another beer for each of us,” Stella said to the waiter who had finally come to take their order.
“I'll have the same.”
“Annie, I know I'm not in your league, but Joe said information is power. I believe that. Take all the harassing you've gone through, take the facts as you see them, and go to your lawyers and, remember, do not confess. Tell those fine legal minds to file suit against the insurance company and the investigator for harassment and discrimination. Always throw in discrimination. That makes everyone sit up and take notice. Then what you should do is call up Parker and tell him what you've done. Don't give him a chance to say a word until you finish. Then you hang up. You put the ball in his court so he's either going to dribble or do whatever those basketball players do. There's no proof anywhere of anything. That's what you can't get through your head.” Stella grinned. “Jeez, Annie, you pulled off the perfect crime.”
Annie burst into laughter. “I never thought of it quite like that. I guess I did.”
“So, are you going to do what I suggested?” Stella asked, waving a breadstick under Annie's nose.
“Yes. Yes, I am. I will call the attorneys first thing in the morning.”
“Attagirl. I love it when a woman kicks ass. So does Joe.”
Annie burst into laughter a second time. “I'm not sure about Parker, though.”
“You're going for broke here, Annie. You don't have a thing to lose, and you have everything to gain. The love of a man who might someday be almost as good as my Joe. That man does love me. He'd suck my toes if I asked him to do it.”
Annie's face registered amazement. “No kidding.”
“That's a mark of true love,” Stella said. “You need clean feet,” she added.
Annie laughed so hard she almost fell off the chair. People at the neighboring tables stared at the two women. Annie just laughed harder.
Three beers later, Stella grasped Annie's arm to lead her from the restaurant. “We shouldn't be driving in this condition,” Annie said.
“You are absolutely right, Annie. I called Joe from the rest room. He's coming to pick us up. I'll get my car tomorrow. Ah, there he is, stomachache and all. Our chariot awaits, madam,” Stella said, bowing so low her husband had to catch her with his outstretched arm.
Annie started to laugh, doubling over. “We have a snootful, Joe.”
“I see that. Pile in, ladies.”
“See, I told you he was a prince,” Stella said as she landed in the front seat, her arms and legs at awkward angles.
Annie started to laugh all over again. She couldn't remember ever having such a fun evening. Her heart felt lighter, her shoulders straighter, and the world hadn't come to an end with her confession to a person she'd known less than a month.
Maybe somebody really was watching over her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Peter Newman's apartment was small, shabby, and cluttered. A man's apartment, he was fond of saying. He looked around at his comfortable clutter, his gaze going to the young man standing in the doorway. A look of revulsion settled on his face. “What do you want this time, Mr. Pearson?”
“I want what I've always wanted. To be exonerated. I didn't rob that bank, and I want those years I spent in prison back. Do you know what happens to guys like me in prison?”
“We've been over this a dozen times, Mr. Pearson. A jury found you guilty, and there's no way I can change their decision. .If your daddy's money didn't work for you, I have to assume you're guilty. Personally, I don't care one way or the other what happened to you in prison. You play, you pay. I'm not a cop. I'm an insurance investigator. I'm going to retire in six months, and I don't want anything to interfere with that retirement. When you first came to me for help I said I would allow you to look at the files. I've done that. My firm, and that includes myself, and the bank, have closed our files. My company has been repaid. The bank got their money back. Plus a little extra. You did your time. It's time to get on with your life. I can be of no further help to you. It's been thirteen years, Mr. Pearson.”
“I know how long it's been, Mr. Newman. I counted the hours and the days for all those years. Someone has to pay for that. I was not a party to that robbery. What can I do to make you understand that?”
“Nothing. Tell me, what will harassing those three people get you?”
“They know something. At least one of them does. I want that person to live what I lived all those years.”
“It ain't gonna happen, Mr. Pearson. The file is closed. That's the end of it.”
“It's the end of it when I say it's the end. Not one minute before. Who's going to give me back the best years of my life? You said yourself you believed one of those three was the guilty party. I can do what you couldn't do. You'd be surprised at the stuff I learned while I was incarcerated.”
“Believing and proving something are two different things. I have my orders. I closed the files. It's over. I don't want you to come here again. And in case you're thinking of ransacking my apartment, let me tell you, there are no files or notes here. I was asked to turn everything over to my superiors, which I did. Let's look at the best-case scenario. Supposing one of the three admits to taking the money. How in the hell is that going to prove you weren't one of the bank robbers? None of the three were anywhere near the bank that day. They have it all on film. Their alibis are airtight. You're swimming upstream.”
“If the money had been turned over that same day, I would have gotten a lesser sentence. I might have been allowed to plea-bargain. Oh, no, they sit on the fucking money, use it for their. own purposes, then get an attack of conscience and return it. Meanwhile my ass is fried, and I go down for the count. Goddamn it, I didn't rob the fucking bank!”
“A jury of your peers says you did. What is it you want from me?”
“I want you to tell me everything you know about your Three Musketeers. I want to know what makes that old coot tick. What's that string bean got going for her? And the rich one. There's something there, I can smell it.”
“They are what they are. Mr. Richardson is a bona fide pharmacist who retired at an appropriate age. He had no family. Miss Clark and Miss Abbott are like his children. He retired to the South shortly after they did, and he helps them with their business. I scoured Miss Clark's records, and they're as squeaky clean as Elmo Richardson's. Miss Abbott is married to a bounder who spends her money like water. She's clean, too. That's all I can tell you. Just tell me what it is you think you can do at this stage of the game?”
“My father has given me a large sum of money to try and prove my innocence. He's the only one in the whole world who believes in me. I'm going to use that money to try and get the person who took that money.”
“And then what are you going to do? Kill them? Try to ruin them? Get it through your headâit's over. Look, Andy, put it behind you and get on with your life. Use the money your father gave you for a new start. You can't live in the past. You are so full of hate you aren't thinking straight. If anything happens to any of those people, the police are going to come after you. You're the first person they're going to come after. You have a record now. The Clark woman is rich, and she undoubtedly has the best legal counsel money can buy. She won't hesitate to turn her legal eagles loose on you. Now, don't slam the door when you leave.”
The young man's face turned ugly. “Would it interest you to know that for the past month, at any given moment of the day or night, I can tell you exactly where those three people are and exactly what they're doing?” Newman shook his head, then watched Pearson square his shoulders, watched him ball his hands into tight fists. He sucked in his breath as he did his best to stare down the felon standing in front of him. He was forced to look away out of fear of what he was seeing in Andrew Pearson's eyes. For the first time in his life, he felt truly afraid. He was so limp with relief when he heard the door close behind Pearson that he collapsed onto the nearest chair.
When he felt strong enough to stand on his own two feet, Newman got up, fortified himself with a stiff drink, and picked up the phone. His first call was to Anna Clark. He wasn't the least surprised when Elmo Richardson answered the phone. He identified himself, and said, “Mr. Richardson, I'm calling to warn you about something I have no control over. I want you to listen to me very carefully, then I want you to relay this message to Miss Clark and Miss Abbott. If you think it will be better for me to call the two ladies, I will be happy to do so. I just happen to think it will sit better coming from you. What I'm about to tell you in regard to the case can be verified by the bank and by Boston Insurance. I believe you have the phone number. The bank and Boston Insurance have signed off on the case. The feds never sign off. It will just remain an open file and get shoved somewhere in some deep, dark file room. What you need to be aware of is Andrew Pearson and his hatred. He just left here. I believe the man is teetering on the edge. He's full of hatred and vengeance, and he plans to go after the three of you. He wants to get even for being sent to prison. He still maintains his innocence. It seems his father has given him a great deal of money to go out and try to find the real truth. Whatever that may be. He says he knows what the three of you are doing every minute of the day or night. I want you to know I did my best to discourage him. I also want you to know that the man frightened me. I don't frighten easily, Mr. Richardson.”
“Why are you telling me all this, Mr. Newman? You've hounded the three of us for years. Why should I believe anything you say now? What brought on this particular attack of conscience?”
“I was doing my job, Mr. Richardson. I did what I was told to do. Do you think I liked hounding you? I didn't. It was my job. I'm good at my job, and that's why I'm able to take early retirement. I plan to spend the rest of my days fishing and hunting. I throw the fish back, and if I see an animal, I shoot in the air so it runs away. I'm not a violent person. Andrew Pearson is a violent person. I know obsession when I see it. He's very clever. Those types of people usually are. I just wanted to warn you. I can't stress how important it is to go to the police. I probably don't have any right to ask this, but has anything happened? Have there been threats or unexplained things that are making you nervous?”
Elmo explained about Tom's ex-wife, the letters, and fear for Annie, who was on the road. “He's using your name, Mr. Newman. Tom's wife said the man who came to see her said his name was Peter Newman.”
“It wasn't me. I told you, Boston closed the case. If I were you, I'd urge Miss Clark to return home as soon as possible. There's nothing else I can do, Mr. Richardson.”
“You still think one of us did it, don't you, Mr. Newman?”
“Yes, Mr. Richardson, that's what I think. It's a moot point now. The case is closed. Like I said, I was just doing my job.”
“I guess I appreciate the warning on behalf of the girls. Speaking for myself, go to hell, Newman.”
Elmo could hear the insurance investigator chuckle as he hung up the phone. He thought the sound ominous.
Â
Â
Annie looked around the hotel room and realized she was sick to death of traveling, eating in restaurants, sleeping in strange beds. Right now she was so tired she knew if she leaned up against the wall she'd fall asleep. Obviously, it was time to go home. If she had one wish, it would be to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep that would last for twenty-four hours. She tossed her bag onto the bed. Why was it motels always had orange-flowered bedspreads and matching drapes?
As Annie uncapped a bottle of ice tea she noticed the red light blinking on the phone next to the bed. Answer it now or later? She looked at the watch Tom had given her. A super-duper job, he said, that gave the date, the time, doubled as a compass, which continent she was on, time in different countries, and if she could figure out how to adjust it, tell her if she was at sea level or not. August 26. Time was 4:45. The only people who knew she was here were Elmo, Tom, and Jane. God, had she really been traveling for eight weeks? Unless the super-duper Swiss watch was wrong, that's exactly how long she'd been on the road. She really had to be home by the weekend because it was Daisy's birthday, and her special present was due to arrive at ten in the morning the day after tomorrow. She wanted to be in attendance to see the little girl's face.
The phone rang just as she took the last swig from the ice tea bottle. Her tone was less than cordial when she barked a tired, “Hello.”
“Annie, it's Elmo. Are you okay?”
“I think so. Why do you ask?”
Elmo told her about his conversation with Peter Newman. “You need to come home, Annie.”
“I was just thinking that myself, Elmo. I'll leave first thing in the morning. I want to be home for Daisy's birthday. I heard sleep-away camp was a roaring success. How are the dogs? Are you just saying they miss me because you think I want to hear that or they really do miss me? Tell me, Elmo, did you believe Newman?”
“Yes, I did. He sounded worried. Maybe scared would be a better choice of words. The dogs do miss you, Annie. They sleep on your bed with your pillows. They run right up there as soon as we come in the house. I want you to be real careful driving home. It's a long stretch. If you get tired, stop and rest.”
“I will, Elmo. How are you feeling?”
“I have good days and bad days. There was a sense of urgency in Newman's voice, Annie.”
“If the case is closed, and we knew that when we tried to file suit six weeks ago, then he's out of our hair. When I get back, we'll file another police report and tell them what Newman said to you. It pays to stay on top of stuff like that. Any mail?”
“No mail from Hawaii if that's what you mean. There's a ton of other stuff here.”
“Any calls?”
“None from Hawaii if that's what you mean. A list of calls to be returned is as long as my arm. Nothing pressing.
“Annie, you need to be extremely careful. I didn't like what Newman said about the Pearson man saying he knew what the three of us were doing every minute of the day. That means he has someone watching us or he's following one of us. I want you to call me when you start out and call along the way, every few hours. Jane and I will stay close to home until you get here. I don't think we need to worry about Tom, he's out of the loop. All that stuff with Mona was just to make us crazy. It worked for a little while.”
“All right, Elmo. I'll see you late tomorrow night.”
Annie popped the lid of a Diet Pepsi. She paced as she drank the diet drink. She was off the hook as far as the bank and the insurance company went. All she had to contend with now, according to Peter Newman, was a deranged young man bent on vengeance. She shivered in the air-conditioned room. Maybe she shouldn't wait until tomorrow morning to leave. Since she hadn't unpacked, she could settle her bill and get five hours worth of driving in before she called it a day. If she drank coffee along the way, she might even be able to do six or seven hours.
Twenty minutes later she was on 1-81 heading south, where she would pick up 1-70, then 1-270, which would take her to the Beltway and 1-95 and home. By leaving now she would miss the Washington, DC rush-hour traffic.
Â
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It was ten minutes past eleven when Annie crossed the state line into North Carolina. She cursed under her breath when she whizzed past the Roanoke Rapids exit. Now she had to drive another fifteen or so miles to the next turnoff. It all just went to prove she was beyond tired. She was exhausted, and on top of that it was starting to rain. She hated driving in the rain, hated the double headlights reflected on the asphalt road, hated the fact that she had to drive defensively on the busy interstate, where eighteen-wheelers and speed demons were kings of the road. She eased up on the gas pedal as she turned on the windshield wipers. She could feel the tension start to build between her shoulder blades as she leaned closer to the steering wheel for better visibility. Her eyes went to the rearview mirror. She wondered if it was her imagination that a pair of headlights behind her had stayed with her since Richmond. When she first became aware of the lights, she'd sped up and then slowed down to see what the car behind her would do. The driver had followed suit. As near as she could tell, the same car was still with her.