Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 6) Read online

  I stood very still and waited while Kristina made an effort to compose herself.

  “After he realized what he’d done, he dragged her body to the bathroom and...” She closed her eyes, jaw grinding, “...and staged the scene to make it look like an accident.”

  “There was never a police investigation?”

  She shook her head. “Everyone believed Julian’s story.”

  “Her family never suspected Julian did it?”

  Kristina turned to look at me. “I guess not.”

  I wanted to know more details, but I could tell that time was running out. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see someone approaching us. “Can we talk more about this after the wake today?”

  “Why?” she said. “None of this matters anymore.”

  “Of course it still matters. Her family will want to know the truth.”

  “What’s the point in opening old wounds? Besides, I think her family lives in England. They’ve all probably moved on at this point.”

  The man to my right stepped in to offer his condolences, so I slowly backed away and went to look for Carter.

  I found him standing by the doorway alone and bored. His eyes alighted when he saw me. “How is Kristina?”

  “I’ve got a story for you.” I took his hand and lead him out of the building.

  Back in the car, I told Carter about Julian’s first wife, Angela.

  Carter remained quiet as he mulled things over. I could tell he was shocked by the news, but not too shocked knowing Julian’s history. Finally, he said, “That’s probably the reason Kristina was asking for the divorce. His confession freaked her out, and she couldn’t come to terms with the burden. Does she feel compelled to notify the woman’s family?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been over ten years, and apparently her family lives in England.” Just as the words came out of my mouth, my body stiffened.

  Carter must’ve picked up on my hesitation. “What is it, Sarah?”

  “When you did the background check on Albert Kinlaw, you said he had moved to the states from Manchester, right? When was that, do you remember?”

  “Not exactly. I’d have to check the information in Julian’s file back at the house, but I’m pretty sure Kinlaw moved to the states in 2006.”

  “Ten years ago. Same time frame that Julian’s first wife died. That can’t be a coincidence, can it? You think maybe Kinlaw and Angela were related?”

  Carter started the engine and shifted into drive. “Once we find a copy of her marriage license to Julian, we should have our answer.”

  * * *

  Since marriage licenses are public record, it was an easy document to find. Angela’s maiden name was Leach, and she’d been born in Manchester, England. However, our initial search results came back negative to any familial connection to Albert Kinlaw.

  Carter was able to find a phone number for Angela’s mother, who still lived in Manchester, but I didn’t like the idea of contacting her about her dead daughter after all these years.

  “I wonder if the mother knows that Julian Pike is dead,” I said.

  With phone in his hand, Carter seemed reluctant to make the call, but he finally dialed the number.

  Chapter 17

  When Carter and I arrived in Glendale Heights at 11:45 a.m., the assistant led us to Mr. Kinlaw’s office. We didn’t have an appointment. We wanted to catch him off guard.

  “Thanks for agreeing to see us on short notice,” Carter said, placing a thumb drive on his desk, which contained the recorded conversation with Angela Leach’s mother.

  Mr. Kinlaw kindly gestured for us to have a seat across his desk. He lowered himself into his own seat, moving slowly like he was in pain. His face seemed even more gaunt than before. “What can I do for you?”

  “We attended Julian’s wake this morning, and Sarah had an interesting conversation with the grieving widow. Kristina made a confession, of sorts.”

  Mr. Kinlaw turned his head slightly to regard me with curious eyes. “And?”

  “She decided to unburden herself in a moment of weakness, I expect. A few weeks ago, Julian, under the influence of alcohol, confessed to murdering his first wife, Angela. It happened ten years ago, almost to the date.”

  Albert Kinlaw blinked once but said nothing.

  “We got in touch with Angela’s mother in England,” I continued, “and we asked her if she happened to know an Albert Kinlaw. Imagine my surprise when she told me that you were her fiancé before Angela moved to the states. She had wonderful things to say about you, by the way. You always remember to send flowers on the anniversary of Angela’s death.”

  Kinlaw’s expression remained blank, but I sensed a storm was brewing just beneath the surface. “Why are you coming to me with this now?”

  “Angela’s mom explained what happened. Her daughter, at the tender age of twenty-four, came to Boston in 2006 with her girlfriends for a long weekend getaway. She met Julian Pike at some event, and he swept her off her feet. Julian probably didn’t care that she was already engaged to be married. He’s the kind of guy, when he sees something he wants, he takes it, right?”

  Kinlaw pursed his lips but remained quiet.

  “When she came home from her vacation, she broke off your engagement, packed her things, and left Manchester. She and Julian eloped a few weeks later. Everything seemed to be going great until a few months into their marriage. Nobody seems to know for certain, but my gut tells me that Angela found out about Julian’s demons, and she didn’t like it. She probably came to realize that she’d made a huge mistake. And maybe, she told Julian that she wanted to leave him. Problem is, she never got the chance. Because he murdered her. And then he made it look like an accident.”

  Since Kinlaw had made no effort to stop me, he was probably curious to hear the rest of my theory. So I continued.

  “After Angela’s death, you came to the states. I’ll bet you suspected Julian killed her. Problem is, you had no proof, and since Julian was a budding defense attorney, you knew he had connections and the means to escape prosecution. But that didn’t mean you’d give up. Some things are worth waiting for, right? You became obsessed with Julian and made it your life mission to get revenge.”

  Mr. Kinlaw unclasped his hands and lifted his teacup to his lips. When he set it back down, he said, “I’m impressed. After ten years, I figured everyone had forgotten about Angela. It’s true. We were engaged back then. I never thought anything or anyone could come between us. Apparently, I was wrong.”

  “So, you found out about the swing parties that Julian attended, and a plan began to take shape. Problem is, you had to keep your distance from Julian. You couldn’t risk him making the connection to you and Angela. So you waited in the wings for an opportunity to present itself. It took ten years, but you’re a patient man. The only thing I’m not sure about is Madeline. I have a hunch that she was just a means to an end. You used her. And you probably also knew that Madeline had a few male friends who wouldn’t mind taking cash for murder. Zeb just so happens to fit that bill, perfectly with his history of violence.”

  If Mr. Kinlaw felt the least bit scared or trapped, he didn’t let on. He seemed more intrigued than alarmed as he sipped his tea.

  “So, here’s what I think.” Carter reached over and placed the check for ten grand on his desk. “You can have your money back.”

  “Why?” he asked. “You earned that money. It’s yours.”

  “We don’t like being used, Mr. Kinlaw. The only reason you wanted Sarah and me to be at that party was so that Madeline had an ironclad alibi. You didn’t want to risk her getting in trouble, which is somewhat admirable, I suppose. But I know you wanted Julian dead, and you wanted to make it look like an accident. Just like he did with your fiancée, Angela. But unfortunately, Zeb made some mistakes when he tried to stage the scene for Julian’s supposed accidental death. If the ME hadn’t been so meticulous, Sarah and I would not be sitting in front of you now.”

  Mr. Kinla
w straightened. “Have you spoken to anyone about this?”

  Carter showed him his palms. “No. We wanted to give you a chance to explain yourself before we went to Detective James.”

  “I suppose you’re recording our conversation.”

  Carter donned an innocent expression that almost fooled me. Truth was, we’d activated the voice recorder on my cell phone right before entering his office. It was inside my purse. I was still waiting for him to admit he called the hit.

  “I understand why you did it,” Carter said, with genuine empathy. “Truth is, I admire you. After ten years, you are still devoted to Angela. Most guys would’ve moved on after a year or two. Not you, man. You went all the way.”

  Mr. Kinlaw’s eye twitched, the first sign of distress that I’d seen from him since we arrived there. “Why haven’t you gone straight to the police with this information? Why come to me now? Are you looking for hush money?”

  Carter laughed. “I’m trying to give you back your ten grand. We don’t want your money.”

  “Then what do you want, exactly?”

  “We wanted to give you the chance to turn yourself in before things turned ugly. Worst case scenario is it goes to trial. I’ll bet, once a jury of your peers hears what happened to Angela, they’ll take pity on you. They’ll forgive you for orchestrating Julian’s murder, perhaps.”

  “And why would I do that?” he asked. “Even if I was arrested and found guilty, by the time the trial is over, I won’t spend a day in jail.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Because my brain tumor is sure to kill me before that happens. A trial would be a waste of time for the taxpayers of this great country.”

  Carter and I exchanged a glance. Could we trust this man even had a brain tumor? Of course, there was no way he could fake his health problems. He was clearly a dying man. I turned to Kinlaw and said, “How much did you pay Zeb? Can you really trust him to keep his mouth shut when push comes to shove?”

  Kinlaw said, “Whatever happens, I’m willing to face it. I have no regrets. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He buzzed his assistant, and she appeared at the door within two seconds.

  With that, Carter and I were escorted out of his office.

  Chapter 18

  “Where are we going?” I said to Carter as we sped down the highway going eighty-five miles an hour.

  “Zeb’s apartment.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m pretty sure he’s planning to skip town with the money, but I don’t think he’s clever enough to have covered his tracks entirely. There might be some clues inside the apartment as to where he’s headed.”

  “Why do we care so much about this?” I said. “I mean, if Julian really did murder a woman in cold blood, then he’s not worth the trouble. Good riddance.”

  “Julian is beside the point, Sarah. I just don’t like being manipulated.”

  I got the gun out of my purse and tucked it inside the waist of my jeans. My little hand-sewn pockets would finally come in handy.

  Carter said, “How does it feel to be packing heat?”

  “It’s cold and hard against my skin. Nothing romantic about it.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “Are you mentally prepared to use it?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever be mentally prepared to shoot someone. Hopefully, it never comes to that.”

  “I suspect Kinlaw called Zeb as soon as we left his house to warn him. Can you grab mine from the glove compartment?”

  Carter always keeps a spare gun in the glove compartment, fully loaded. I handed it to him, just as we rounded the corner into the parking lot of Zeb’s apartment building. The red Honda was gone.

  “Do me a favor and call James,” he said. “Ask him to meet us here.”

  When the detective answered my call, I had a hard time containing my excitement as I explained all we had learned over the last few hours. “Zeb Nichols killed Julian. We just got to his apartment, and his car is gone. Any chance you can set up road blocks? He’s on the run.”

  “I’ll do my best. Be there as soon as I can.”

  A neighbor poked his head out of the door as we knocked on Zeb’s apartment door. An elderly man with no teeth, said to us, “If you’re looking for Zeb, he cleared outta here ten minutes ago. Must be going on a trip.”

  “Did he happen to mention where he was going?” Carter asked.

  “Nah, but I don’t think he plans to come back.”

  “If he doesn’t plan to return,” I said. “He probably wouldn’t mind if we went inside to take a look around.”

  The neighbor laughed. “I don’t think you’ll want to go in there. Trust me.”

  As it turned out, the door was open. Once we stepped inside, we understood exactly what the neighbor meant.

  Smelled like the sewer had backed up in the bathroom, and I thought I might puke.

  “What a class act,” Carter muttered, covering his nose with the shirt. “Let’s work quickly and try to find out where he might be headed.”

  How did he expect me to work in these conditions? Dumpster diving would be luxurious compared to this. I wondered if Zeb had intended the toilet to overflow, as a parting sentiment to the landlord, or to law enforcement.

  “If you wanna go check out the bedroom, I’ll look through his trash,” Carter said.

  I didn’t waste precious time arguing. The sooner we did this, the sooner we could leave.

  In the bedroom, there was a pile of dirty laundry; towels, jeans, shirts, socks, underwear. An idea hit me. Jeans pockets. People always leave stuff in pockets, but it would require a hazmat suit which I didn’t have. I had no idea what kind of bodily fluids were encrusted on those towels.

  I found a pharmacy receipt on the dresser, half crumpled.

  “Take a look at this.” I hurried back to the living room. “He bought a drug called Chloroquine. Any idea what that is?”

  “I think it’s used to treat or prevent Malaria. He’s most likely going to Africa. Good job, Sarah. I’ll call and let the detective know he’s planning to get on a plane. Maybe they can flag his name at Logan Airport when he goes through security.”

  “Did you check his trash?” I said.

  “He emptied the trash before he left, apparently. Maybe he threw it in the dumpster before he took off. Which means, there might be something in there.”

  “I’ll go down and check the dumpster. Must be around the building in the back.” I’d come up with any excuse to get out of the apartment. I needed fresh air.

  “I’ll be down in a few minutes, too. Can’t take much more of this stench. Or, call me if you find something.”

  I descended the outdoor stairs and headed toward the back of the building, taking in a few deep breaths as I went. In the alley, two green dumpsters were overflowing. Chances were good that any trash Zeb had dumped would be on top of the heap.

  I grasped the side of the dumpster and hoisted myself up. It smelled like roses compared to the inside of the apartment. I slashed through a few of the plastic bags and rifled through them. No luck.

  Just as I got back onto the pavement, I heard footsteps coming from behind me. I turned to see a familiar face, and my breath caught in my throat.

  “What’re you doing?” Zeb stood a few feet away, holding some kind of gadget in his hand. I couldn’t see what it was.

  “I thought you left,” I said, stepping away from the dumpster and clapping dirt from my hands. “Why’d you come back?”

  “I paid Mr. Kruse twenty bucks to call me if someone came sniffing around my apartment. The old geezer actually came through for me.”

  I silently cursed myself for trusting nosy neighbors. “It would be easier to turn yourself in at this point. The cops are looking for you.”

  He took another step toward me. “Why should I go to jail for a piece of shit like Julian? He’s a murderer. I did everyone a favor.”

  I prayed Carter would show up soon. Unfortunately, my cell phone was still in
the car along with my purse. There was always the gun in my back waist, and I could always scream. I decided it might be better for me to try and talk him down.

  Staring into Zeb’s eyes, I sensed fear and panic. He came back here for a reason. Maybe there was no talking sense into him, but I had to try.

  “The detective is on his way here, now. You can’t escape. Just turn yourself in. I’m guessing if you cooperate, things won’t be so bad. You’re right. Julian was a bastard. He probably killed his first wife. But we don’t actually have proof of that.”

  Zeb checked his watch. “Damn it, you’re gonna make me late for my flight now. Why did you have to come here? I don’t want to hurt you, Sarah.”

  For a second, I thought he might step aside and let me go. He seemed unsure of what to do next, and I decided to take advantage of that.

  “There’s no way you’re getting out of Boston, or any airport for that matter. If you run, they will find you. If you turn yourself in, I believe they will show mercy. I can put in a good word for you.”

  He glanced at his watch again. Apparently, time was running out, and I sensed he was about to lose his temper with me. Since he had me cornered in the alley, my only defense was the gun. I decided it was time to play my last card, if only to scare him off.

  Before I had a chance to reach behind for my gun, he lunged toward me, arm outstretched. A jolt of electricity ripped through my body. Unlike any other pain I’d ever experienced, I couldn’t control the convulsions, and my legs gave way underneath me. As I crumpled to the ground, helpless, I noticed, too late, it was a Taser gun he held in his hand.

  Chapter 19

  When I came to, it was dark, and I could barely breathe. It took a few seconds for me to realize that I was inside the trunk of a car.

  How much time had passed? Where was Zeb taking me? What did he plan to do once we got there?

  I had underestimated Zeb’s intentions with me in the alley, and I felt like an idiot for that. Why hadn’t I tried to defend myself? I was the one with the gun, and yet, here I was, in the trunk of a car.