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Authors: B. J. Daniels
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clients trudge through the eight inches of new snow that had fallen the night before to get to the front door.
‘‘My parents invested here before the ski hill went in,’’ Mitzy said when they joined her. ‘‘This is my home. Other people have left, but I stayed.’’ There was pride in her voice. ‘‘I’ve done what I’ve had to to survive here.’’
She finally looked at them. ‘‘And I’ve done well.’’
Obviously it pissed her off royally that she’d been sharing that money with a blackmailer. Especially Peggy Kane, her husband’s secretary.
‘‘What did Peggy have on you?’’ he asked again.
Mitzy took another long drag, stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it into the nearest snowbank. She let the smoke roll out. Her words fell hard as the granite countertops in the expensive kitchen behind them. ‘‘I met this photographer. He told me he thought I could be a model so he talked me into posing for a few shots.’’
Jack felt Tempest’s gaze on him. ‘‘Nude photos?’’
‘‘What do you think?’’ Mitzy snapped. ‘‘It had been years, then about six months ago, I got an anonymous letter demanding money or the photos would end up on a Web page and everyone in River’s Edge would have the address.’’
‘‘What means did you use to pay?’’ Jack asked, already knowing where the money had ended up.
‘‘A post office box in California,’’ Mitzy said. ‘‘And yes, I tried to find out who had the box. It was just one of those blind address things.’’ She turned to look at him. ‘‘You’re positive it was Peggy?’’
‘‘The money was going from your account to hers within a matter of hours,’’ he hedged.
‘‘You probably think that I killed her now,’’ Mitzy said. ‘‘Well, I wish to hell I had.’’ With that, she turned and walked back to lock the house, before heading to her black Ford Explorer. Jack noted that the car was exactly like the one Peggy had bought for herself and wondered if Mitzy hadn’t noticed as well.
CHAPTER SEVEN
B ACK AT THE OFFICE , Jack didn’t say a word as he dropped a sheet of paper on the interrogation room table in front of Oliver. The paper was a copy of the doodles from Peggy’s scratchpad where she’d written ‘‘Mrs. Peggy Sanders’’ around the border a half dozen times.
Tempest sat and, at Jack’s nod, reached over to hit the record button on the tape recorder.
Oliver watched her for a moment, then looked down at the piece of paper, and for the first time, seemed to really see it and what was written on it. He stiffened and sat back a little as if trying to distance himself from it and what was coming.
‘‘It seems Peggy thought she was going to be the next Mrs. Sanders,’’ Jack said. ‘‘Why is that?’’
Oliver swallowed and slowly raised his gaze. ‘‘I guess it’s no secret she was in love with me.’’
‘‘Not anymore,’’ Jack said. ‘‘Did you know Peggy kept a date book with all your clandestine dates in it, including your plans for Valentine’s Day?’’
Oliver shot a look at Tempest, then Jack. He dropped his face in his hands, his body jerking as he burst into racking sobs.
Jack pulled up a chair to wait. Tempest stared at a spot on the wall over Oliver’s head, seemingly unaffected by the display.
After a few moments, Oliver stopped sobbing, pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes and nose with quick, angry swipes as if embarrassed.
‘‘I was in love with her,’’ Oliver said without looking at either of them. ‘‘Valentine’s Day I was going to tell Mitzy I was leaving her. After my birthday, Peggy and I were going to blow this place and not look back.’’
‘‘Kind of cold to tell your wife you’re leaving her on Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?’’ Jack said.
‘‘I couldn’t keep lying to Mitzy, to myself. I couldn’t keep...pretending.’’ He looked to Jack as if he might understand. ‘‘Mitzy and I only married because it seemed
‘‘My parents invested here before the ski hill went in,’’ Mitzy said when they joined her. ‘‘This is my home. Other people have left, but I stayed.’’ There was pride in her voice. ‘‘I’ve done what I’ve had to to survive here.’’
She finally looked at them. ‘‘And I’ve done well.’’
Obviously it pissed her off royally that she’d been sharing that money with a blackmailer. Especially Peggy Kane, her husband’s secretary.
‘‘What did Peggy have on you?’’ he asked again.
Mitzy took another long drag, stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it into the nearest snowbank. She let the smoke roll out. Her words fell hard as the granite countertops in the expensive kitchen behind them. ‘‘I met this photographer. He told me he thought I could be a model so he talked me into posing for a few shots.’’
Jack felt Tempest’s gaze on him. ‘‘Nude photos?’’
‘‘What do you think?’’ Mitzy snapped. ‘‘It had been years, then about six months ago, I got an anonymous letter demanding money or the photos would end up on a Web page and everyone in River’s Edge would have the address.’’
‘‘What means did you use to pay?’’ Jack asked, already knowing where the money had ended up.
‘‘A post office box in California,’’ Mitzy said. ‘‘And yes, I tried to find out who had the box. It was just one of those blind address things.’’ She turned to look at him. ‘‘You’re positive it was Peggy?’’
‘‘The money was going from your account to hers within a matter of hours,’’ he hedged.
‘‘You probably think that I killed her now,’’ Mitzy said. ‘‘Well, I wish to hell I had.’’ With that, she turned and walked back to lock the house, before heading to her black Ford Explorer. Jack noted that the car was exactly like the one Peggy had bought for herself and wondered if Mitzy hadn’t noticed as well.
CHAPTER SEVEN
B ACK AT THE OFFICE , Jack didn’t say a word as he dropped a sheet of paper on the interrogation room table in front of Oliver. The paper was a copy of the doodles from Peggy’s scratchpad where she’d written ‘‘Mrs. Peggy Sanders’’ around the border a half dozen times.
Tempest sat and, at Jack’s nod, reached over to hit the record button on the tape recorder.
Oliver watched her for a moment, then looked down at the piece of paper, and for the first time, seemed to really see it and what was written on it. He stiffened and sat back a little as if trying to distance himself from it and what was coming.
‘‘It seems Peggy thought she was going to be the next Mrs. Sanders,’’ Jack said. ‘‘Why is that?’’
Oliver swallowed and slowly raised his gaze. ‘‘I guess it’s no secret she was in love with me.’’
‘‘Not anymore,’’ Jack said. ‘‘Did you know Peggy kept a date book with all your clandestine dates in it, including your plans for Valentine’s Day?’’
Oliver shot a look at Tempest, then Jack. He dropped his face in his hands, his body jerking as he burst into racking sobs.
Jack pulled up a chair to wait. Tempest stared at a spot on the wall over Oliver’s head, seemingly unaffected by the display.
After a few moments, Oliver stopped sobbing, pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes and nose with quick, angry swipes as if embarrassed.
‘‘I was in love with her,’’ Oliver said without looking at either of them. ‘‘Valentine’s Day I was going to tell Mitzy I was leaving her. After my birthday, Peggy and I were going to blow this place and not look back.’’
‘‘Kind of cold to tell your wife you’re leaving her on Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?’’ Jack said.
‘‘I couldn’t keep lying to Mitzy, to myself. I couldn’t keep...pretending.’’ He looked to Jack as if he might understand. ‘‘Mitzy and I only married because it seemed
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