Authors: Betty Sullivan LaPierre
"I realize that.
But his behavior's erratic.
Some nights he stays out for hours and comes home drunk.
Then there are mornings he's up before the crack of dawn and never tells me where he's been.
He even slapped me when I asked.
Told me it wasn't any of my damn business."
At that moment, they were called to their table.
Angie watched Sandy pat her cheeks with the tissue, then smooth down her hair.
"Do I look okay?"
"You look fine."
They continued their conversation after they were served.
"Have you talked to Ken about his actions?" Angie asked.
"Yes.
But he doesn't care what I think.
He's turned into some kind of a monster.
I don't know what to do."
Angie twisted her napkin in her lap.
"Sandy, I don't know how to ask this, but do you feel your life is being threatened?"
Sandy nervously waved a hand in the air.
"Oh, no.
I don't think he'd go that far."
"Well, I've never seen you look so frightened.
It worries me."
Sandy poked at the food on her plate, then dropped both hands into her lap.
She looked up at Angie with watery eyes.
"I'm scared to death."
Outside the restaurant, Angie watched Sandy trudge off to her car with slumped shoulders.
"Wait," she called, and ran to catch up with her.
"Look, I'm all alone in my house.
There's plenty of room if you'd like to come and stay until this blows over."
Sandy leaned against her car.
"I don't know if it would be a good idea.
Ken needs me and he might really go off the deep end if I leave now."
Angie bit her lip.
It sounded like he'd already toppled over the cliff.
The fear in Sandy's eyes told her that.
"But you said you were scared."
She shook her head and blinked, fighting back the tears.
"I am.
I'm just so baffled by his actions, I don't know which way to turn."
"I can't let you go back home like this."
Angie said, putting her hand on the car door.
"Thanks for your concern, I appreciate it."
Sandy climbed into her car, then poked her head out the window, giving Angie a weak smile.
"But give me a day or two.
Maybe things will calm down."
She watched her friend drive away.
The poorly concealed bruise on Sandy's cheek indicated to Angie that the slap she'd described was far worse than she admitted.
What had happened to make Ken turn violent?
Surely Bud's death wouldn't have caused that type of behavior.
And she couldn't imagine the extra work doing it.
Ken and Bud had always enjoyed an overload; they both thrived on it.
She rubbed her temples.
Maybe the fact that Bud had been murdered had affected him.
Ken might even fear for his own life with the murderer still on the loose and the police no closer to finding a suspect.
It frightened her too.
She quickened her step.
I need to talk to Tom.
Find out what's happening.
Chapter Seventeen
Tom slapped his hands against the surface of the desk.
"We found the gun on his right side.
Now tell me for God's sake, why would Conners, a left-handed man, shoot himself with his right hand?
His fingerprints were on the gun, but no powder burns on his hand or head.
Someone murdered him, then set it up like a suicide."
Cliff rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yep.
And they definitely knew his pattern of practically living at the office.
The coroner said he'd been dead several hours.
Which means someone killed him in the wee hours of the morning.
The employees I questioned didn't think Conners ever left his office.
Which goes along with what his wife said.
Also makes for more suspects."
Tom twirled a pencil between his fingers.
"We also know that whoever typed that note wore rubber gloves."
"We searched every trash can in the place plus all the goddamn dumpsters in the area and never found them.
So, I think it's time we start tracing Ken Weber's footsteps and press him hard for some answers."
"Got the search warrants ready?"
Cliff patted his pocket.
"Yep."
Tom stood and buttoned his jacket, concealing his gun.
"We might as well get started."
In the car, he put in a call for backup.
When they reached the Webers' home, Tom rang the bell, then knocked several times before Sandy finally opened the door a few inches.
Taken aback by her appearance, Tom shoved it open.
"Sandy, what happened?"
Holding her hand over the right side of her face, she ducked her head.
"Hello, Tom.
I'm so embarrassed.
I slipped on the wet kitchen floor after mopping and hit my face against the edge of a cabinet.
I've really made a mess of myself."
She turned her better side toward them, but her gaze went past Tom to the police car parked in the front.
Two officers got out and walked toward the house.
"What's going on?"
Tom held up the warrant.
"We're here to search the house."
Sandy's mouth dropped open as she studied Tom's and Cliff's faces.
"Why?"
"Just part of the investigation."
Cliff said, moving toward the door.
She put her hand on the knob, blocking Cliff's entrance.
"Does Ken know you're here?"
Tom shook his head.
"I better call him."
She abruptly turned to go inside, but Tom stopped her.
"I don't want you to do that."
Her eyes filled with fear.
"He'll be furious with me for letting you in."
"You just tell him you had to or we'd have broken down the door.
We have a warrant.
We're within the law."
Sandy choked back a sob.
"He'll kill me, Tom."
She studied his face a moment before reluctantly moving out of the way so they could enter the house.
Tom frowned as he stepped inside, wondering if the story of slipping on a wet floor was the truth.
"You might want to take the twins and go somewhere for a couple of hours.
This might alarm them."
"They're visiting my mother."
His eyes searched her face for a moment, then he directed her into the kitchen and reassured her they wouldn't be long.
Leaving her, he joined Cliff and the officers in the search.
Sandy leaned against the kitchen counter, tears streaming down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away.
She knew Ken was in trouble, but she didn't know why.
Once he found out she'd let police in to search the place, he'd hit her again for sure.
What had happened to her sweet, gentle husband of almost nineteen years?
Something had caused him to go over the edge.
He might even kill her if she didn't get out.
No, she wouldn't be the brunt of his attacks any longer.
One of the officers walked through the living room and out the door with a plastic bag, full of what looked like garbage from the wastebaskets.
She followed him to the door and watched him deposit it into the trunk of the police car.
Her heart pounded so hard against her ribs, she thought it would burst through her chest.
What could they find in the garbage?
What made them suspicious of her husband?
She glanced at her watch.
Ken would be arriving home within the hour.
Panic rose in her heart.
Hurrying down the hallway, she looked into each room until she found the two detectives in Ken's home office.
"Tom, could I speak to you?"
He stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door closed.
"What is it?"
Her hands were clasped in front her so tightly that her knuckles began to turn white.
She stared at the floor.
"I'd like to call Angie Nevers."
Tom leaned up against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.
"I'd rather you didn't call anyone right now."
"I feel like my privacy is being invaded and it's making me very nervous.
I can't stay here and watch.
If Angie's home, I'll go see her."
He let out a sigh and nodded.
"Okay."
He pulled away from the wall and followed her into the kitchen where she dialed the number.
"Angie?
Sandy.
Can I take you up on your offer?
Thanks, I'll be there within thirty minutes."
After she hung up, she dashed into the master bedroom, threw some clothes into a duffel bag and grabbed her makeup kit.
Tom observed the nervous woman's actions, noticing the already packed makeup kit.
He walked her outside and held the car door open as she tossed everything into the back seat, then climbed into the driver's seat. "Looks like you plan to hide out awhile."
Sandy never looked at him as she turned the key and gunned the engine.
"As long it takes to get this mess settled."
She backed out the driveway and sped down the street toward's the Nevers' home.
*****
Cliff waited for Tom at the front door.
"What's happening?"
Tom backed toward the door as he watched the car disappear into the distance.
"She's scared.
You can't tell me she slipped on a wet floor.
Those bruises were caused by punches."
"Where's she headed?"
"The Nevers' place.
I listened to her conversation with Angie.
Sounds like they'd planned this in case Sandy needed an escape."
As the two men walked deeper into the house, they were startled by the squeal of car tires and screeching brakes.
They dashed back to the front door and met Ken Weber entering the house, his face contorted in anger and fear.
Tom raised his hand.
"Sandy's fine.
She isn't here right now.
We have a search warrant and are conducting a murder investigation."
Ken's eyes flared.
"Here?
At my house?
I thought Ryan killed himself."
Cliff stepped forward.
"No, Mr. Weber.
Mr. Conners was murdered."