Authors: Marina Martindale
"Stop that," she said, laughing.
"No."
"Stop that."
"No."
"Alex Montoya, you're incorrigible, but you're still my best friend."
"That I am, and me too."
K
en O'Dell waited patiently in his
SUV
. He,
along with
a female agent, had been staking out the Andrews home for the past thirty minutes. During that time, a car pulled into the driveway and honked. A teenage girl came out the front door, hopped in, and the car drove away. Finally, his patience paid off. The garage door rolled up and Maggie Andrews backed her silver Honda out. He noticed a young boy sitting in the passenger seat. He discreetly followed her, pulling off to the side of the road as she drove up to the front of the school. The passenger door opened and the boy jumped out, waving goodbye to his mother before running off to join his friends. As Maggie pulled back onto the street he began tailing her again. He became concerned when she got back to the main road and turned in the opposite direction from her home. He stayed behind her as she entered a supermarket parking lot. Once again, he patiently waited. Twenty-five minutes later she emerged from the store with a cartload of groceries. He watched from a safe distance while she loaded them into her trunk and got back into her car. She headed straight home as she exited the parking lot. He followed from a distance, again being careful to not alert her to his presence. By the time he got back to her house, the garage door was rolling shut. He glanced at his watch and looked at the other agent. They decided to give her some time to put the groceries away. There were children living in the home so there'd be no sense in allowing their perishables go to waste. Ten minutes later they stepped out of the vehicle and knocked on the front door.
"You again?" Maggie's greeting was less than pleasant. "Look, my husband's been arrested. He's sitting in jail somewhere in Phoenix, so why don't the two of you go bug him and leave me the hell alone? I've had enough of being harassed by you."
"I'm aware of that, ma'am," said O'Dell, "however, we need you to come to the field office and answer some questions."
"So am I being arrested too?"
"No, not at this time Mrs. Andrews. However, you're still a person of interest in this case, and we have a few more questions to ask you. It shouldn't take very long and you'll be free to go, once we're finished."
"And what happens if I refuse to cooperate?"
"I understand your conc
erns, ma'am, but trust me, it'
ll be much better if you cooperate."
Maggie let out a sigh. With Scott in jail she was nearly home free. This wasn't the time to do anything that would raise suspicion.
"I'm sorry, sir. I guess I'm just having a bad morning. I spent the entire day yesterday trying to console my children. As you can imagine, they're quite distraught over their father being arrested."
"We understand, Mrs. Andrews," said the female agent. "I promise this won't take very long."
Maggie got her purse and headed out the door. Once they arrived, she was taken to a small room and told to take a seat. Billie Hughes soon joined them, and they began by asking her about the day the photos were uploaded to
Gentry Magazine.
"We've been over this a dozen times now." There was a tone of exacerbation in Maggie's voice. "My computer crashed, so I called Scott and asked to borrow his laptop. He said it would be okay. After I finished reading my email I got curious. Our wedding anniversary was coming up. I wanted to find out what he was getting me so I looked at his browser history. That's when I discovered that he had another email account. Okay, I'll admit I shouldn't have done it, but I tried his password and it worked. That's when I found out he was having an affair. You're right. I stuck my nose in where it didn't belong and it wasn't a very nice thing for me to do. However, Scott had freely given his password to me and I was using his computer with his consent. The rest is a private matter between my husband and myself."
"I'm sure it must have been very painful to learn that he was being unfaithful to you," said Billie.
"Yes, it was. I sat there and cried my eyes out. I was heartbroken. I've been in love with Scott since I was nineteen, and I thought we had a happy marriage."
"Obviously, you thought wrong," countered O'Dell. "So, how did that make you feel? Did it make you angry? Were you angry enough to lash out? Perhaps lash out at your husband's mistress?"
"Of course I was angry, but my anger was directed toward Scott. This woman, Ms. Daniels, is a total stranger to me."
"So, what did you do after that?" asked Billie.
"I've already told you. I went out for a long walk."
"Where?"
"Our subdivision has a common area with a playground. I walked around there for awhile, and then I sat down on a bench. I don't know for how long. After that, I decided to go to The Cattle Rustler and console myself with a greasy burger and a hot fudge sundae."
"Mrs. Andrews, I'm afraid your husband is telling a very different story," said Billie. "According to him, that morning you accidentally knocked a photograph off the wall while you were making up the bed."
Maggie's blood turned to ice. Once again, she put on her best face and tried to remain calm.
"You know, I'd forgotten about that. That actually happened a few days before the morning I borrowed Scott's computer. He must be mistaken about the date."
"You're sure?" asked O'Dell.
"Of course I'm sure. Yes, I recall accidently knocking one of the photos off the wall. You remember, Agent O'Dell. I showed you where they'd been hanging; right over the bed. I wasn't paying attention that morning and I accidently knocked one off the wall."
"What day did that happen?"
"I can't remember the exact day, sir. It's been months. But it wasn't the on same day I borrowed Scott's computer. That I do know."
"I'm sure you must have been very upset when that happened," said Billie. "I understand that you and your husband are both art collectors, and that it was a limited edition photo."
"Yes, we are. Or rather, we were. And you're right, it was a limited edition photograph."
"Did it get damaged?"
"The frame did, luckily the photo itself wasn't damaged."
"Did you know who the model in the photo was?" asked O'Dell.
"No. The title of the print was on the back of the frame, but I don't recall ever seeing the model's name. So who was she?"
"I think you all ready know who the model is, Mrs. Andrews," said O'Dell. "According to the computer forensics report, right after you read your husband's email you went to the website for Carrie Daniels Photography. Would you like to explain?"
Maggie felt a chill running down her spine. She'd deleted the browser history that day, along with all of the other files. Many months had passed since then. How could they have retraced her tracks? Surely all the deleted files would have been written over by now.
"I'm sorry, sir," said Maggie, apologetically. "You must understand it was a horrible day for me, and I'm sure I've blocked out many of the details of what happened. But now that you've brought it up, I vaguely recall going to that website, but I was so upset that I really don't remember it."
"According to our report, you spent a lot of time on the about us page of Ms. Daniel's website. There's a picture of her on that page."
"So what are you getting at, sir?"
"What I'm getting at, Mrs. Andrews, is that you've been lying to me." Maggie heard the anger in O'Dell's voice. "So, here's what really happened. You went to Carrie Daniels' website because you wanted to find out who your husband's mistress was."
"Okay, so maybe I did. Is that a crime?"
"No," said Billie. "Under the circumstances, it would have been perfectly understandable. If I'd just found out that my husband had been cheating on me, I'd want to know with whom."
"But stealing the other woman's identity and forging her signature is illegal, Mrs. Andrews, and it will get you a long prison term."
Maggie could feel herself starting to sweat. She had to remain calm.
"Look, I didn't steal anyone's identity, and I didn't forge anyone's signature. Scott did that, not me. Like I said, I went for a long walk, and then I went out to lunch. I didn't return until much later that day."
"I want the truth, Mrs. Andrews," demanded O'Dell. "You saw Carrie Daniels' picture on her website. You recognized her as the nude model in the photos so you got angry. I'll bet you were so angry that all you wanted to do at that moment was to rip those photos of her to shreds, but you couldn't do that because you didn't want your husband to know you'd found out about his cheating on you, so you broke the frame instead. Then, once you had the photo out of its frame, you decided to scan it into Scott's computer. It was the perfect plan, wasn't it, Maggie? You're an art collector. You know how copyrights work. You decided to set Carrie Daniels up so that Louise Dickenson would go after her for copyright infringement, and you'll be happy to know that your scheme worked. Mrs. Dickenson has indeed filed a copyright infringement claim against Ms. Daniels, along with your husband Scott. Only there's a problem. Carrie got a copy of the release, and as soon as she saw it she knew that someone had stolen her identity, and that her signature had been forged. That's against the law, Mrs. Andrews, so she called the police and reported it."
"That's quite a picture you've painted there, Agent. O'Dell. Unfortunately, it's not quite accurate. Yes, I did break one of the frames. I've already told you it was an accident, and it happened a few days before I found out about the affair."
"Did you replace the frames?"
"Of course I did."
"Where did you get the new frames?" asked Billie.
"I can't recall right now. It been months, and since that time I've had other things on my mind. Like having my husband suddenly walk out on me for yet another woman. Like coming home and finding all of his belongings gone, because he decided skip out and move halfway across the country without so much as a goodbye. Like having to go through a painful divorce and having to deal with two children who are also trying to cope." The tears were streaming down Maggie's face as she reached for a tissue. "Are we done here? We'd better be, because I'm through talking to you. You've found your culprit and it's not me. It's my husband, Scott."
O'Dell motioned to Billie to step outside.
"She's guilty as hell," he said after he closed the door behind them. "She would have needed to take the photos out of the frames in order to scan them. If only I could prove she's the one who did it."
"I'm convinced she's involved as well, but we still don't have a smoking gun, and she's never going to admit to it."
"It's so damn frustrating that both of their handwriting comparisons were inconclusive. We couldn't determine if it was Scott or Maggie who forged the signature. We could only prove that it wasn't Ms. Daniels' handwriting."
"I'll run her home, Ken. With any luck she'll feel comfortable enough with me to slip up and say something."
O'Dell nodded stepped away while Billie went back into the interrogation room.
"Okay, Maggie, we're done. I'm going to take you home now."
"Thanks, I appreciate it. Like I said, I'm going through a bad divorce and I really don't need any additional stress right now."
"I understand, and I'm sorry you're having to go through this. We just needed some additional information, that's all. We want to make sure there's a conviction in this case, and we appreciate the fact that you've been helpful."
Maggie kept to herself on the drive back. The authorities were getting much too close to the truth. As Billie pulled up the curb she thanked her for the ride home. She walked through her front door and waited for Billie to drive away.
"All right, you stupid little bitch! Thanks to O'Dell, it's now confirmed. You're indeed responsible for bringing the
FBI
in, so thanks to you I just got hauled in and treated like a criminal. And for that little outrage, Carrie, you're going to have to pay. I've told you before and I'll tell you again. If I go down, you're going down with me."
Maggie needed to come up with another plan and she knew not to use a computer this time around. She'd learned the hard way that anything she did electronically would be too easy to trace. She picked up her keys and walked to the corner to pick up her mail. Perhaps some fresh air and sunshine might help her think.
"If it weren't for junk mail, I'd get no mail at all," she mused after she turned the key to open her mailbox. Along with a few bills, her box was crammed with flyers, coupons, and other unsolicited advertisements. She headed home and was about to drop it into the recycling can when, just like before, the perfect plan suddenly flashed across her mind.
"Of course. I see them doing this on
TV
all the time, and it's not that hard. And since it's low tech they won't be able to track me down."
She brought the junk mail back into the house and set it on the kitchen table. She reached into the cabinet underneath the sink and took out a pair of rubber gloves. She dropped them on the table and opened the junk drawer, rummaging through it until she found a glue stick and a pair of scissors. She set them on the table and put the gloves on before stepping into the den and opening the credenza. She carefully removed a sheet of paper from the center of the stack, along with a self-adhesive envelope. She brought both items back to the kitchen table and began cutting individual letters out of pieces of the junk mail, gluing a message onto the paper.