Waiting and Watching (27 page)

Or he could have come here with another woman. Is that it? Is he cheating on me? Already? With the ink barely dry on their marriage license, was he tired of her already? “No, no, no, no.” These thoughts were so bizarre Connie started to doubt her sanity.

After sitting in her car for probably thirty minutes, she had calmed down enough to go back up to the Lodge for her skis. Her unease grew as she saw the huge numbers of skis impaled in the snow outside the lodge. She had to find hers quickly and get out of here. She half expected to be grabbed or shot.

Connie found her skis and made it back to the car. She needed to get to a phone right away and call Julio. She was afraid to get out of her car for fear Andrew had spotted her, so she drove all the way back to her Aunt's house. The house was empty. Still terrified, Connie picked up the phone and called Julio.

Julio admitted talking to Andrew and telling him she was upset over his secret comings and goings. “Connie, I really believed his explanation. He said he was backlogged and working on some difficult, high profile case. Did you two have a fight before you left?”

“No, in fact we had one of the best nights since we returned to New York. He brought me roses and candy, and we shared a bottle of wine with a leisurely dinner. Everything was perfect. There's no reason for him to turn up here unless he's following me. I'm scared, Julio. Something's up. Something bad.”

“Look, Connie, you should come here right away. I still believe there's a logical, rational explanation for this, but we can't take that chance. See if you can change your ticket or buy a new one. Money shouldn't be a concern. This is your marriage, maybe even your life, we're talking about here, Connie. See if you can get a flight out tonight.”

“It's not the money, but it's warm there and all I have are ski clothes.”

“For Heaven's sake Connie, get on a plane and we'll get you some clothes here. Call the airlines and then call me back.”

By the time Aunt Viv got home, Connie was packed and ready to leave for the airport.

“Oh, Viv. I tried to call you at work, but you'd already left. I have to go back right away for a job interview. I'm so sorry.”

“Oh, honey. Really? Well, I understand,” Aunt Viv said, looking disappointed but resigned. “You'd better get going then, so you don't miss your flight. Call me tonight or tomorrow to let me know you made it home alright. Okay?”

“Sure. Thanks, Viv. I love you,” Connie said as she practically flew out the door.

Friday—January 9, 1987

Julio picked Connie up at the Miami International Airport. She was exhausted. The only airline ticket available was the middle seat in the last row of coach on the red-eye to Miami. Connie was too upset over Andrew anyway to sleep. The passenger in the window seat next to her, a heavy-set elderly man who climbed over her multiple times to get to the lavatory didn't help. During the flight, she kept thinking about all the suspicious instances that hadn't meant anything at the time, but now seemed very ominous.

They walked into Julio's ultra-modern apartment with a large terrace overlooking the ocean. Connie dumped her suitcase in the guest room and asked Julio if they could have a glass of wine and go out on the terrace to talk.

Just then, the phone rang. It was Sylvia.

“Hey, what's happening?” Julio asked.

“If you're standing up, Handsome, you better sit down for this. You won't believe what just happened. It's bad news and I wanted to tell you before you heard it on the radio or television.”

“Okay, shoot.” But he didn't sit down until she pulled the rug out from under him.

“Sammy was shot and killed in Vreeland's apartment about twenty minutes ago. I knew he was there,” she added forlornly. “I've been watching him ever since I got back from Cincinnati. It's still hard for me to get around with this bum ankle, so I've been keeping the door to my unit open. I got one of the maintenance men to move one of my recliners into the doorway so I could monitor whatever went on across the hall, and chat with anyone who walked by.”

“I know what people on the floor are thinking. That batty old lady is so lonely, she'll chat up anyone. Most of them pick up speed as they walk by, but that's okay with me. It's my undercover mode for keeping an eye on Sammy.”

“Oh, my God.” Julio rubbed at his forehead. “How did you hear about it?”

“Hear about it! You're not listening, Handsome. Sitting in my doorway, I practically saw it. I was just about to snooze off when I heard ‘pop, pop'. Gunshots. He screamed, and then I hobbled off to call the cops.”

“Did you see anyone come out of the apartment?”

“Damn it, no, I didn't see her, and I could kick myself for it. The perp had to have snuck out when I went to call the cops.”

“Well, I'm glad you didn't. I could've lost you, too.”

“Aw, how sweet. I love you too, Handsome.”

“Sylvia, you have got to be more careful. Your snooping is going to get you in big trouble one of these days. And why did you say her? How do you know the shooter was a woman?”

“Because I saw Sammy and a woman enter the apartment earlier today. She definitely didn't want anyone to know who she was. She had long dark hair under a dark floppy hat, big sunglasses and a black coat. Mind you, the weather wasn't the usual sunny and seventy for this time of year, but a coat? And high-heeled boots! In Florida! That outfit was a dead giveaway that she was hiding her identity. I was my usual, pleasant Chatty Cathy, and they were basically rude. Neither said a word, not even hello. The woman wouldn't even look at me. Could have been Beth Vreeland herself, for all I know.

“But here's the catch. I asked the doorman if he had seen anyone leaving who fit that description and he said no. The only woman he saw leaving was a platinum blonde wearing a white fur coat and sunglasses, and he assumed she was Beth Vreeland. Naturally, I gave a full report to the police. The young officer was kind of cute, but not as good looking as you.”

“Well, I'm thankful for that,” Julio sighed. “Wouldn't want to think I had some competition. Now you listen to me, Sylvia.” The tone of his voice changed drastically. “This is a demand, not a request. Call your maintenance man right now and have that chair moved back to your living room, bedroom, or wherever it goes. Then close and lock your door. Remember, I'm not asking. I'm telling you!”

“Alright. I guess I've had enough excitement for one day, anyways.”

“Hey. I appreciate your letting me know,” Julio said sadly. “Please, keep me posted, and no more eavesdropping on comings and goings in the hallway.”

Later that night, Connie and Julio saw the story on the news. There still wasn't any kind of explanation.

“We'll need to notify Sgt. Reynolds tomorrow,” Julio said. “This could have something to do with our case.”

Sunday—January 11, 1987

It was the morning of Sammy's funeral. Since no one could locate his mother, Julio had made all the arrangements and paid the bill. It was raining, making it feel as if the heavens were mourning Sammy as well as acknowledging his sad life.

Julio had learned from Sgt. Reynolds that the autopsy revealed Sammy was in the advanced stages of Aids and had been a heavy user of heroin. What killed him was a 38-caliber pistol fired at close range into his head. Joe confirmed this was the same type of pistol that had killed their parents. The bullets that killed Sammy were being sent to the Hamilton County Forensic Unit to see if they had been fired from the same gun. It was a long shot, but if Beth Vreeland had been involved in the murders, she might have kept the gun in her possession. The gun from the Harriman murders had never been recovered.

Julio and Connie picked up Sylvia and took her to the service. When they arrived at the church, Julio was touched to see Otto and Patrick there. He also recognized the waiter in the leather thong, now dressed in a suit and fighting back tears. The service was short as there were only the six of them in attendance. The Minister did his best to commemorate the sad and loveless life of Sammy Vreeland. At the end of the service, Julio stood up and said. “I only knew him briefly, yet we shared some common bonds. I think Sammy was robbed of a childhood and a chance for a better life. He made his way through life the best way he could, which was on his own and alone. May he rest in peace.”

When Julio sat back down, Connie saw the tears in his eyes. She knew he felt real empathy with Sammy as his own childhood had been filled with nearly as much sorrow and pain. Julio had known and loved two sets of parents, only to lose them both. Connie put her arms around him and said, “Sammy is at peace now. Nothing more can hurt him.” The group followed the hearse to the graveyard. Julio had arranged for roses to be passed out so that each person who attended could put a rose on the coffin and say a silent goodbye.

As they walked away, Connie and Julio noticed a woman standing alone nearby. She had on a black raincoat, boots, a black hat and sunglasses. She seemed to be looking in their direction, making Connie wonder if she was Beth Vreeland.

The woman turned away when she noticed them looking back at her and began to walk quickly towards the parking lot.

Sylvia had her head down struggling with her walker, which kept sinking into the soft rain-soaked lawn, but she looked up just in time to see the woman. “That could be Vreeland,” she said, but at this distance, she couldn't tell for sure.

Julio decided he had to find out. He ran after her, reaching her as she got to her car and opened the driver's door. Julio grabbed her arm and yelled, “Beth, is that you?”

The woman's head turned sharply and the sunglasses fell off. She held a gun in her hand.

Julio gasped. “Oh, my God, Lily.”

With that, she broke away, got into the car, and sped off. Julio stood there, frozen to the spot.

Earl was worried about Lily. He'd left her several phone messages and she hadn't responded to any of them. He considered contacting her apartment manager when he received a phone call from Julio and Connie and heard the story of finding Lily with a gun at Sammy's funeral. She had gotten away from Julio, but the police were looking for her as a suspect in Sammy's murder.

Earl was praying they wouldn't find her. He'd grown to love her like the daughter he and Sue never had. They'd laughed, cooked, planned, plotted and schemed together, and he just couldn't believe that underneath that pixie face was a killer. He knew her life had been difficult, but he hoped that it hadn't driven her to the horrific deed of murder. Julio said the police were suspicious of the gun used to murder Sammy. They suspected it was the same gun that had killed his parents. They were also investigating Lily's links to both Sammy and the Harrimans.

Earl knew where Lily lived and decided to drive over. He knocked on her door and didn't get an answer. He listened to see if he could hear her moving around, but all was quiet. Still hopeful, he went to the manager's office to ask if he had seen Lily in the past two days.

The manager admitted that he was also concerned. Her monthly rent was overdue and that was unusual for Lily. He had a key to her place and suggested they both take a look inside. The Manager unlocked the door and Earl followed him in. His heart was pounding. He so very much wanted to find Lily bent over her Ouija board, working to evoke the spirits. He wanted desperately to call Julio back and say how wrong he had been about seeing Lily at the funeral; that she was right here with him, and had never been to Miami in her whole life.

Everything looked normal in the small combination living and dining room. It was neat and tidy and the carpeting looked as though it had been recently vacuumed. The kitchen was spotless. No dirty dishes sat on the counter or table. The bed was neatly made and there were no dirty clothes littering the floor. This didn't look like the apartment of a killer. Still, some impulse made him open her top bureau drawer. He would never know and will always regret doing so.

Earl found two psychiatric textbooks written by John Harriman. He opened one and out fell two pieces of paper. One was a photograph of a young couple holding a baby. Earl pulled out his glasses and looked carefully at the faces. It was a handsome, young man and a woman who bore a strong resemblance to Lily. The second paper was the last communication Lily had from her mother, and was obviously a suicide note. It said:

Lily, I love you. I'm sorry. I can't go on any longer without John. He is the only person who truly understands me and I know he loves me, too. I see and feel it in every one of our sessions, but we can't be together. I can't bear being without him. You are our love child. Go to him.

Earl carefully put the photo and note back in the book and closed the drawer. He went back to the living room to find the manager reading something from Lily's desk.

“Good news, Mr. Lookey. Here's a copy of an airline itinerary. Lily is fine; she just went to visit friends in Miami.”

Earl had tears in his eyes. He asked the manager to call him if she ever came back. The man laughed and said, “Don't worry, her itinerary shows her returning tomorrow.”

He went home, cleared all the espionage paraphernalia off his screened-in porch and threw it in the garbage. He put Sniff's winter coat on him and together they went for a walk. No need to call Julio. He'd find it all out in due time. For that matter, so would Sgt. Reynolds.

Right now, it was Earl's time to mourn.

Wednesday—October 7, 1964

Lily walked her mother slowly into the psychiatrist's office and waited while she saw the doctor. The appointment was scheduled for a full hour, so she was surprised when after only thirty minutes the doctor summoned her into his office.

Her mother was lying on the sofa crying. The doctor said, “Your mother is extremely depressed and should be admitted to a psychiatric hospital as soon as possible. If we can get her to agree, I'll have her admitted immediately. But she's afraid of the cost and says she can't afford it. I could commit her, but that will take a court order. Is there a family member who could help?”