Текст книги "Personal Justice"

Автор книги: Rayven T. Hill

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter 14

Tuesday, 1:05 p.m.

ANNIE CLEANED up the lunch dishes, made herself a cup of coffee, and went into the office. She had discussed the case with Jake earlier, and they had decided to do what they could to help Maria Shaft. After calling Maria, Jake had picked up a retainer, and Annie was ready to delve into the case.

She sat at her desk and booted up her computer. Hank was on his way over and she planned to kill time by doing some preliminary research on Werner Shaft and Michael Norton.

A quick search under both names brought up a story on their relationship nine years ago. They were convicted of breaking into a warehouse and stealing a quantity of electronic equipment. They got nabbed when the fence they contacted turned out to be an undercover cop. Each had pled guilty and done a three-year stint in prison.

The first few links in the search led to a variety of news sources featuring the same information with minor variations.

Then an item caught her eye on the second page of the search results. She clicked through and was presented with a story from less than a year ago.

She read the headline: Werner Shaft Wins 5th Annual Smokie’s Bar 9-Ball Tournament.

There was a picture identifying the subject as Werner Shaft as he stood by a billiard table, proudly holding a trophy in one hand, his cue in the other.

What made her sit forward was the story below the picture identifying the runner-up as Michael Norton. There was no photo of Norton, but there was little doubt, it had to be the same man.

The next item on the search revealed that a small local cable TV company did a short video interview with Shaft and Norton. It was featured on their neighborhood news segment. Annie watched the brief interview with interest.

It wasn’t evidence of any criminal activity, but Rocky Shaft had said there was no relationship between his brother and the fugitive, Michael Norton. And Maria had agreed. Yet there clearly was.

Rocky was mistaken—nothing suspicious in that, but this was evidence the two ex-cons kept in some kind of contact since their time in prison.

Annie wondered why Maria Shaft wasn’t aware of it. Surely Werner would’ve boasted about his tournament win to her. But perhaps not, and either way, it didn’t prove much.

She downloaded the interview video, and then printed out the news story and tucked it inside the thin file she had started on the case. Her search yielded nothing else of interest, so she closed the folder, brought it to the living room, and dropped it on the coffee table. She would show it to Hank and see what he thought about it.

She had just nicely curled up with a book when the doorbell rang. Jake came down from upstairs and beat her to the door, and in a moment, Hank and Jake came into the room and sat on the couch.

Hank greeted her, sat his briefcase on the cushion between him and Jake, and snapped it open. He pulled out two folders, handing one to Jake, the other to Annie.

“That’s all we have right now and you’re welcome to it,” Hank said. “There’s the ME’s report on the murder, the forensic report, the witness statement, and whatever else we could dig up.”

“There’s one more thing,” Annie said. “It appears Shaft and Norton did have a relationship after all.” She told him about the news story she found online regarding the 9-ball tournament, handing him the printout.

He read it and said, “I talked to Tammy Norton and she told me there was no relationship between Shaft and Norton. Said they hadn’t seen each other for years. Both wives claim they knew nothing about their association.” Hank waved the printout. “But this tells me the two men had something going on.”

“Something they wanted to keep secret,” Jake added. “Didn’t want their wives to know.”

“Exactly. I don’t think Tammy would have any reason to lie about it,” Hank said. “If she knew about their association, she would’ve said something. She wants to find her husband as badly as we do and she seems sure he’s innocent.”

“Wives are always the last to know,” Annie said.

Jake was perusing the forensics report. He dropped it in his lap and looked at Hank. “This sure doesn’t look like a professional hit. A professional would’ve been more efficient than this.”

“A bullet in the head is pretty efficient,” Annie said.

“I mean the way it was carried out. A chase and a lot of shots. A hitman would’ve done it in one. Game over.”

“Exactly,” Hank said. “And he wouldn’t have done it where there could be witnesses.”

Jake added, “A pro would never have left shell casings laying around either. Especially ones with his fingerprints on them.”

Annie sat forward, her brow wrinkled in thought. “If Werner Shaft wasn’t involved in anything criminal since being released from prison, then why was he carrying a gun?”

“Perhaps he knew his life was in danger. Maybe he was threatened and carried it for protection.”

“Or perhaps,” Hank said. “He was still involved in something his wife didn’t know about.”

“Both wives said the same thing,” Jake said. “Their husbands had gone straight. So if they were up to no good and working together, they kept it to themselves.”

“I’m still lacking a motive,” Hank said.

“Love or money,” Jake said. “It’s always about love or money.”

Annie looked at Hank. “Is there evidence of any affairs going on anywhere?”

“We’re looking into that,” Hank said.

“What about between Rocky Shaft and Maria?” Jake asked. “Could Rocky Shaft have killed his own brother because he’s having an affair with his brother’s wife? He lives with them and has the opportunity.”

“It’s a possibility,” Hank said. “That’s something we’re looking into, but it might be a hard thing to prove. And right now, King is interviewing Michael Norton’s list of family and friends. His objective is to dig up the whereabouts of Norton, but I’m sure he’ll be asking a lot of pointed questions while he’s at it.”

Hank continued, “I dropped by Michael Norton’s workplace on the way here. He’s never missed a day in recent history. He was there on Monday and clocked out as usual.”

“And his co-workers?” Jake asked.

“None of them could shed any light on this. He never had a run-in with anyone, and nothing seemed suspicious or out of place as far as they could tell.”

Jake waved the file folder. “You don’t have anything in here on Rocky Shaft.”

“He wasn’t there when I first went to see Mrs. Shaft. I dropped in again a few minutes ago and Rocky was there this time, but there’s no report yet.”

“What did you think of Rocky?” Annie asked.

“He’s a very angry man,” Hank said. “But that’s understandable, given the circumstances.”

“Did he have anything else to say?”

“Nothing new to add,” Hank said. “He basically repeated what I’ve heard before. But there was one interesting occurrence.”

“Regarding Rocky?” Annie asked.

“Regarding Lisa Krunk,” Hank said. “According to Maria, Lisa dropped by, and she and Rocky ended up succumbing to one of her interviews.”

Annie frowned. “Lisa’s interviews never go well. She always finds some way to make everyone look bad.”

“I wish they’d kept away from Lisa,” Hank said. “But Maria has a right to know how we’re proceeding, and she has a right to talk to the news people. There’s nothing we can do about that. And it’s important to get Norton’s picture out there. Right now, our goal is to track him down. There’s not much else we can do until that happens.”

“If you have no objections, Hank,” Annie said. “I’d like to pay Tammy Norton a visit this afternoon.”

“I have no objections,” Hank said.

Chapter 15

Tuesday, 1:38 p.m.

JAKE WAITED IN the office while Annie made a call to Tammy Norton. The woman said she would be home all afternoon and was eager to help in the investigation.

“I’d like to go now if you have nothing else to do,” Annie said to Jake after she hung up the phone.

“My schedule is open,” Jake said.

“Do you even have a schedule?”

“I keep it in my head. That way it never gets misplaced.”

Annie pushed back her chair and stood. “I’ll meet you outside, then.”

Jake grabbed his keys and pulled the Firebird from the garage. A minute later, Annie joined him and they roared from the driveway.

When they pulled up to the curb in front of the Norton residence a few minutes later, Jake glanced at the crumbling house. “What does this guy do for a living?”

“He’s a production line worker,” Annie said, as she opened her door and stepped out. “Meaning, he works on an assembly line.”

Jake got out of the car, glanced at the dark-blue Ford Probe in the driveway, and followed Annie up the pathway to the front door. She rang the bell.

Tammy Norton answered the door, a forced smile on her face. “Are you the Lincolns?”

“We are,” Annie said, and Tammy led them into the front room and motioned toward the couch while she sat in an armchair.

They sat down and Annie spoke first. “Mrs. Norton, I want to tell you up front, we’ve been retained by Maria Shaft to find your husband.”

“Please, call me Tammy, and I’m aware he’s a suspect. I’m sure he’s not guilty, and I’m as eager to find him as the police are. I’m so afraid something has happened to him.” Her smile was replaced with a worried frown.

“We realize you’ve already spoken to Detective Corning,” Jake said. “But we have a few questions for you.”

Tammy nodded, brushed back a strand of dark hair, and leaned forward.

Annie pulled a file folder from her large handbag and laid it in her lap. She smiled. “Tammy, Maria Shaft indicated her husband and yours haven’t associated since being released from prison, and you said the same to Detective Corning.” She opened the file folder, slipped out the printout of the 9-ball tournament, and handed it to Tammy. “Were you aware of this?”

Tammy took the paper and browsed it. Her frown deepened. “I knew Michael played 9-ball at the pub on occasion.” She waved the paper. “But I wasn’t aware Werner Shaft was part of it.”

“For some reason,” Jake said. “Both of them wanted to keep it from their wives.”

“But why?” Tammy asked, handing back the paper.

“We think they were involved in something together,” Annie said. “Something illegal.”

Tammy’s frown took over her whole face, revealing a hint of indignation. “That’s absurd.”

“Perhaps,” Annie said. “But Werner Shaft was murdered for some reason.”

Tammy reached on the stand beside her and pulled a tissue from a box. She wiped at some tears and took a deep breath. “Find my husband and this will all be cleared up.”

“We need your help with that,” Jake said. “So far, he has eluded the police.”

Tammy sobbed and wiped her face again. She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know where he is.”

Jake tilted his head and looked sideways at Annie. She was leaned forward, squinting at Tammy. She stood and moved closer to the woman and bent over. Tammy looked back, confusion on her face.

“Tammy, how did you get those marks on your face?”

The woman’s hand shot up, covering the side of her left eye.

Annie reached out and gently grasped Tammy’s wrist and tugged her hand away.

Jake leaned forward and peered closer. He could see a bruise by her left eye. It looked like she had tried to cover it with makeup, and wiped the covering away with her tears.

“I … hurt myself. I … slipped on the stairs and took a tumble.”

Tammy sat silently as Annie put her hand under the woman’s chin, tilting her head back. Annie rubbed at a spot, revealing another attempt at hiding a bruise.

Annie sat back down. “Tammy, did your husband do that?”

Tammy’s face took on a look of anger, and then it softened and she dropped her head. She sobbed and wiped away another tear, now making no attempt to hide the marks on her face.

“Tell me, Tammy. It’s important,” Annie said.

The woman kept her head bowed and nodded weakly.

“Does he beat you up?”

She shrugged one shoulder.

Annie stood and approached the woman again. She leaned down, put a hand under Tammy’s chin, and tilted her head up. “Tell me,” Annie said in a soft voice.

Tammy looked Annie in the eye and nodded. “Sometimes,” she said. “But I was ashamed to say anything about it.”

“Why are you defending him?” Jake asked.

Tammy’s nostrils flared and her face reddened. “Because he’s my husband.”

“Is that why you’re willing to help us?” Jake asked. “You’re afraid of him. You want him found, but you still think he’s innocent?”

Tammy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she said, “Yes, I’m afraid of him. He … he’s changed lately.” She narrowed her eyes. “He never used to be like this, but now …”

Annie waved the printout. “Did you know about their relationship?”

Tammy shook her head. “I honestly didn’t.”

“But you think he’s guilty of murder, don’t you?”

The woman’s shoulders slumped and she sighed. “No.”

“Other than yourself,” Jake asked. “Has he been violent toward others?”

“Not that I know of.” She paused. “He can get angry easily, but I’ve never seen him get into an altercation with anyone.”

“Just with you?”

Tammy shrugged again. “I seem to irritate him somehow.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jake said gently. “And it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Annie was browsing the police reports. She looked up. “Were you aware he owned a gun?”

The woman shook her head adamantly. “The police said they found bullets in the basement somewhere. I don’t go down there often.”

“And his fingerprint was found on a shell casing at the murder scene,” Annie said.

Tammy’s eyes bulged. “I don’t believe it. He might’ve hit me from time to time, but he would never kill anyone.”

“And a witness saw his car there.”

Tammy was silent.

“Now do you believe it?” Jake asked.

Tammy closed her eyes and took a few quick breaths. “No, I don’t believe it,” she said.

“How can we find him and prove he didn’t do it,” Annie asked.

“I don’t know,” the woman said. “I honestly don’t know.”

Annie put the printout back into the folder, tucked it into her handbag, then looked at Jake and stood.

Jake pulled a business card from his shirt pocket and handed it to Tammy. “Call us if you think of something that can help us find your husband. Or you can call the police.”

Tammy took the card, stood, and followed them quietly to the door. “Let me know if you find anything,” she said.

Annie promised her they would, and then followed Jake to the car and got in.

“After all that,” Jake said, turning to Annie. “She still defends him.”

Annie sighed. “They almost always do.”

Chapter 16

Tuesday, 2:54 p.m.

THE MAN WAITED patiently, glancing at his watch more than once, spinning the cylinder on his revolver often, humming a nameless tune all the while.

His quarry wasn’t at home and time was wasting, but he was being well paid for this job, so wait he would. As long as it took. He prided himself on getting the job done perfectly every time. And this time would be no different.

From where he sat in the comfortable living room, he could see the driveway and half the street. He would know when they arrived, and would have time to prepare for the ambush that would earn him his pay.

He looked at his watch again. He knew they had a kid, and if he got home from school before the job was finished, that could complicate things somewhat. However, he had no qualms about taking out the boy as well, if necessary. It would be the first time he ever killed a kid, but you have to start sometime.

He smiled grimly as a car roared into the driveway. It was a big, shiny, red Firebird. They were here. He slid from the chair, circled into the kitchen, and waited. He decided the best plan of action would be to sit tight until they were inside, then step into the hallway and nail them both at once before they could react.

He knew how important the element of surprise was.

Then the car roared once more and he frowned. It sounded like they were leaving again. He circled back into the living room and eased to the front window in time to see the Firebird turn from the driveway and head up the street.

Now what?

And then a key rattled in the door and he froze. It must be the woman. The guy probably dropped her off and left again.

He didn’t have time to get back to the kitchen. He would have to wait until she came in, then go into the hallway and take her out from behind. He didn’t often shoot people in the back. He preferred to see their face as they went down, but he would have to make an exception this time. It was either that or risk failing—something he never did.

He ducked behind the chair and peered around. He could barely see into the hallway at the front of the house. He heard the door open, someone step in, and then the sound of the door snapping closed.

It was a woman. He heard her singing softly. Some stupid ’80s song.

He was faced with a minor dilemma. He could kill the woman first, wait for the man to return, and then nail him the same way. The problem was, someone might hear the gunfire, and he didn’t like to hang around for long after the first shot was fired. That could get him caught.

He had wanted to get both at once. It was always easier that way. Taking out only one would put the other on his guard—never a good thing. But half a job done was better than nothing, and anyhow, there was no other choice.

Though he’d done his fair share of hits in the past, he wasn’t a professional. It was something he aspired to, but hadn’t made the move yet. There was a lot of money to be had in that vocation, but he was still practicing for that big day. He vowed to invest in a good silencer. It would come in handy right now.

He heard another footstep and peered around the back of the chair again. She was still not in sight. Probably putting her key away or taking her shoes off or some such thing.

Then he saw a pair of eyes on the far wall of the foyer. They grew wide and he heard a gasp.

She had seen him in a mirror on the entryway wall. He cursed his stupidity as he sprang to his feet. He raised the revolver and aimed, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Too late. She had scurried up the hallway toward the kitchen. Fortunately, she never tried to run back outside. That was a good thing, and should work in his favor.

He knew the layout of the house. He’d arrived early, let himself in the back door, and spent a few minutes becoming familiar with the main floor of the dwelling. The hallway led into the kitchen and she was probably going for the back door. But he knew he could also circle into the kitchen from the living room, and that’s where he headed.

He needed to get to her before she reached the back door or he would fail completely. That would be a first for him, and his employer would be none too pleased.

He couldn’t let that happen, no matter what.

He leapt across the living room and into the kitchen. He raised the gun. She wasn’t there and he frowned.

She must still be in the hallway. She hadn’t gone upstairs or he would’ve known.

He eased across the room, both hands on his weapon, his eye sighting down the barrel, ready to finish the job that had started so poorly.

She wasn’t in the hallway. Did she turn around and circle back? He spun, ready to fire, and moved to the living room door. She wasn’t there.

He went back to the kitchen, stood still, and dropped his gun hand to his side. Listening. Listening for any telltale sound. All he heard was his own breathing and the beating of his heart.

He’d never been outsmarted before and wasn’t about to let this one be the first to get the better of him. Especially not a woman. How humiliating.

Raising the weapon again, he tiptoed silently down the hallway, into the living room, then back to the kitchen.

That’s when he saw the doorway, just inside the kitchen, near the entrance to the hall. It likely led to the basement. He crouched down. A small amount of light seeped out from underneath.

He sprang across the room and whipped the door open. The basement light was on.

He had guessed correctly. He heard a rustling, scrambling sound. She was down there somewhere. He hoped she wasn’t armed. He would need to be careful.

He took the first step and crouched. He couldn’t see her but his ears told him she was definitely down there somewhere. He took another step, then another, stopping briefly each time, his revolver ready to bring her down at a split-second notice. All he would need was one shot—he was that good.

He leaped down the last two steps and crouched on the concrete floor. Nothing. He swung around, the weapon and his body moving as one entity. One deadly killing machine.

Where was she? He frowned.

Across the room. Just behind a large treadmill. A door. It was closed, and he sprang toward it, hitting it fully with his shoulder. The door held. He tried again, and it crashed open, the frame shattered. The door bounced off the inner wall and sprang back. He stopped it with his hand and stepped inside, the revolver ready.

He had her now. There was no doubt.

His finger tightened on the trigger as he spun the weapon around the room. He stopped and pulled the trigger.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He cursed as the feet he had seen disappearing out the window were now out of sight.

He dashed forward and stepped onto the wooden box she used to reach the opening. He hefted himself up, pulled his torso outside, and there she was, to his left, racing across the back lawn. He would never be able to get to her now.

He had failed.