Deceptive Practices Page 12

  “What’s the incentive to refer someone? Do they give you money?” Andrew asked.

  Clare smacked her glass down on the table, sending her drink splashing over her hand and the table. “Christ, do you think I took money from these people after all they’ve done?”

  “No. Sorry,” Andrew said. “I’m just trying to understand how they get you to refer someone when you know they’re going to screw them over.”

  “It’s the same incentive they use for everything—fear. They make someone disappear, then they tell you they’ll implicate you. They tell you to kill someone, and if you say you won’t do it, they tell you they’ll implicate you. They tell you to find another sucker, or they’ll implicate you. Once you invite these people into your life, they put a gun to your head, and they never take it away.”

  Olivia was beginning to know all too well the element of fear Infidelity Limited employed. She felt the pressure of their weapon against the back of her head, but unlike Clare, she wanted to turn it on them. It was her only escape.

  She felt for her sister. Infidelity Limited had tortured Clare for years. Like all great torturers, the likelihood of them making good on their threats wasn’t constant. It didn’t need to be. It just had to linger in the shadows, ready to emerge at any time. All the sympathy Olivia had for her sister went only so far. It was hard to reconcile the fact that Clare had put her in harm’s way to save herself.

  “Who introduced you?” Olivia asked.

  “A friend. Or so I thought.”

  “What’s this person’s name?” Andrew asked.

  “Maxine Groves.”

  “Are you still in contact?” Olivia asked.

  “What do you think? No.”

  “Can you get in contact with her?”

  “Yes, but why?”

  “Currently, we have no leverage over Infidelity Limited, so we have to get some,” Andrew said. “Everyone knows a bit about Roy. If we talk to enough of his victims, it’ll help us build a big enough picture to track him down.”

  Clare barked a derisive little laugh. “You’re crazy. Do you know how many people there are like us? Do you honestly think you can find them all?”

  Olivia didn’t. Roy had done a great job of insulating himself. There was no way of knowing how many people he had drawn into his web of deception and lies. Trawling through Infidelity Limited’s client base seemed like a lost cause before they even started.

  “No, but we have to try,” Olivia said.

  “You’re wasting your time.”

  “Maybe so, but will you help us?” Andrew asked.

  “If you pay me.”

  The demand stunned Olivia. For a second, she thought she’d misheard.

  “I have valuable information. It comes at a price.”

  Disgust poured through Olivia. Clare had nerve, asking her for money after she’d screwed her in typical Clare fashion. Like usual, Clare had dug herself a hole and was trying to solve it by dragging others in after her. Olivia glared at her sister, but Clare didn’t flinch under the heat of it. She was serious about her money.

  “How much?” Andrew asked.

  “Not much. Five hundred.”

  “Don’t waste your breath on her,” Olivia said. “Clare, you’re responsible for me being in this position. You threw me to these sharks, and now you want me to pay you for your help? What the hell?”

  “You said you’d try to help me, Liv. This is the help I need.”

  Olivia shook her head. Her sister was unbelievable. She had the blinkers on, and all that she could see was whatever she needed to fix her own problems and screw everyone else.

  “Money won’t help you,” Olivia said. “You need to take some responsibility. I’ll help you make that happen. Do the right thing for once. Do right by me for once. Because if you lose me, there’s no one else who’ll drag your sorry ass out of the fire next time you screw up.”

  Clare just continued to glare at Olivia.

  “C’mon, we’re done,” Olivia told Andrew.

  They’d gotten as far as the door when Clare stopped them. “I’ll go to Detective Finz,” she said. “I’ll tell him everything.”

  How could Clare threaten her with that? Her older sister had raised a lot of feelings in Olivia during their lifetime. Few were positive. Anger, disappointment, and frustration were the go-to trio. She’d never felt contempt for her own flesh and blood like she did at that moment. It was all she could do not to beat the life from Clare.

  The threat kept Olivia in place. If she knew one thing about Clare, it was her sister’s weak resolve. Yes, Clare was weak enough to run to the cops. But she was just as weak when it came to the follow-through. It was easy for her to toss out threats but hard for her to follow up on them. Clare knew the consequences for herself if she went to Finz. The threat was hollow—or so Olivia hoped.

  “Okay, let’s all calm down,” Andrew said. “I know everyone is frightened, but if we keep our heads, we’ll be fine.”

  “You need money that badly, Clare?” Olivia said.

  Clare raised her glass in a mocking toast. “Always.”

  “Look, I’ve got a hundred,” Andrew said, reaching for his wallet.

  Olivia clamped a hand over his forearm. “We’re not paying her. She won’t go to the police because she’s an accessory.”

  “You willing to take that risk, Sister?”

  “Clare, you owe me. You know it. I know it. You got me into this, and you can get me out of this. Call the person who referred you, and set up a meeting.”

  Olivia walked out of Clare’s trailer, hoping she’d read her sister right and that Clare would do right by her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The million-dollar view of the bay couldn’t make up for the stink coming off the marsh. It turned what could have been a luxury-home development into low-income housing with a fancy name that didn’t fool anyone. This part of unincorporated Contra Costa County wasn’t helped by its neighbors—a juvenile offenders’ detention center on one side and a metal-finishing outfit on the other.

  Andrew was working today, so Olivia had come out here alone. After grilling Clare last night, they’d agreed that if Olivia was going to go after Infidelity Limited, she needed to know what she was dealing with, and that meant knowing how much of what Clare had said was true and how much was bullshit.

  It had been a while since Olivia had driven out this way. There’d been no reason, since Nick had disappeared. Nick came from a large family, but they were scattered across the country. His sister, Mandy, remained close to home.

  If anyone knew where Nick was, it was Mandy. Olivia hoped Mandy would put her in touch with him, because she had to find out whether Clare had lied to her about him. She prayed to God that Infidelity Limited hadn’t killed him.

  Olivia pulled up in front of a cheaply constructed, unimaginative, wood frame house. The same design continued for the length of the street. Bars covered windows, and a security door strong enough to stop a charging bull protected the front door. A waist-high chain-link fence surrounded the weed-ravaged front yard. Kids’ toys strewn across the path welcomed her as she walked up to the front door.

  Before Olivia reached it, Mandy pushed open the screen. She sneered and said, “Olivia, long time no see.”

  Mandy was Nick’s younger sister. She was close to ten years younger than Olivia, but she looked older. She’d been a good-looking woman, but her beauty was ruined by too much drinking, a crappy diet, and a bad dose of life. Olivia guessed this would have been her own outcome if she hadn’t fought to escape her upbringing, then felt bad for thinking that way. Money and a career didn’t make her better than Mandy, and her recent moral judgments sure as hell didn’t make her an angel.

  “What do you want?” Mandy demanded.

  “Nick. Have you seen him? I need to get in touch with him.”

  “Why? Does Clare want him back?”

  Mandy was doing nothing to hide her hostility. Olivia expected this treatment. Mandy idoliz
ed her older brother for reasons Olivia never understood.

  “No,” Olivia replied.

  “If Clare wants something, then she should come ask for it herself instead of sending her fancy sister with the low-rent past. Does she think that your Audi will impress me? It doesn’t. It’s pathetic.”

  “It’s nothing like that.”

  Mandy had yet to invite Olivia in, and her doorstep tantrum was drawing street flies as neighbors stopped to watch the social drama play out.

  “Can I come in?”

  “No, I don’t want your family stinking up my home, no matter how much Dior you slather on.”

  “Mandy, please.”

  “This is about money, isn’t it? Clare needs money again.”

  “No. What are you talking about?”

  Mandy screwed up her face in disgust. “C’mon, drop the innocent act. Everybody knows your sister can’t stay away from the blackjack tables. If she’s not pissing money away at Cache Creek, it’s Thunder Valley. That’s if any of them will have her these days, with her credit score. No one minds the interest as long as someone can pay.”

  A smug smile showed off all Mandy’s premature age lines.

  So Clare’s gambling was common knowledge. Olivia wondered how many people her sister had been hitting up for money in addition to her and how much of a debt she’d run up.

  “Where’s Nick, Mandy?” Olivia asked before she got sidetracked. “I just need to get in touch with him.”

  “Give me one good reason why I should tell you.”

  Olivia hadn’t wanted to tell Mandy about Richard, but it was the only way to end the stalemate. “My husband was killed. Clare wanted him to come to the funeral.”

  The sucker punch delivered the knockout blow Olivia hoped for, wiping the stubborn grin from Mandy’s face. Olivia relied on the shock to prevent Mandy from examining the situation too closely. Why, after six years, would Clare want Nick around for support?

  “When?” Mandy asked.

  “Last week. Look, do you have a number for Nick?”

  “Was your husband the guy clubbed to death?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s horrible,” Mandy said with little compassion, “but I don’t have a number.”

  “Then how do you get in contact with him?”

  “I don’t. I haven’t heard from my brother since he took off.”

  “What about his friends? Don’t they keep in touch?”

  “Your dead husband was his closest friend.”

  “Richard?”

  “No, Mark.” Mandy suddenly smirked. “Two dead husbands. You’re a real black widow, Olivia.”

  And if Nick was dead, Olivia and Clare had three dead husbands between them. She asked Mandy to get in touch if she heard from him and drove off.

  Nick was dead. Olivia knew it. Clare could delude herself and deny it. It was easy when you didn’t have a body left on the sidewalk. Olivia glanced in her rearview mirror and caught Mandy staring at her. She’d been clinging to the hope that Nick was alive and staying away because he despised Clare. That hope was on life support now. She could see Nick disappearing, but he would have kept in touch with Mandy.

  What have you done, Sis? Olivia thought.

  Her cell rang in the car. It was Finz.

  “Hi, Mrs. Shaw, I wanted to set up a time for that polygraph appointment.”

  She winced.

  “How are you fixed for the day after tomorrow, Thursday, say one o’clock?”

  “I am in the middle of funeral arrangements.”

  “I totally understand, and I apologize for that, but I promise it won’t take long. An hour tops.”

  She couldn’t see how she could avoid his request without making him suspicious. “Thursday at one, then.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Shaw. See you then.”

  She groaned when she hung up. She’d hoped to have more time to practice.

  “Did you kill your husband?” she asked herself. “No, I did not.”

  She joined the road and headed toward the freeway. A blue Explorer pulled onto the parkway a couple of hundred yards behind her. The sight of it unsettled her. It wasn’t like Explorers were rare, but she could have sworn she’d seen the same SUV on the drive over. Was she being followed? If so, by whom? Roy? She was a liability to him if the police arrested her. If he was checking out everybody she was talking to, he’d find out that she was digging into Nick’s disappearance. Shit. She was screwed if he found out what she was doing. Of course, Roy wasn’t the only one with a reason to keep a close eye on her. This could be Finz. She didn’t believe for one second that he wanted her to submit to a polygraph for routine purposes. She had a horrible feeling that he suspected she was involved in Richard’s death.

  The light ahead turned red. This caused a problem for the Explorer driver. With no cars between them, it forced him to stop behind her. She looked at him in her rearview mirror. The driver was neither Roy nor Finz, but that didn’t mean anything. They’d both have people working for them.

  Looking ahead, she caught a glimpse of herself in her mirror. “Are you losing it, girl?” she asked her reflection. “Only one way to find out.”

  The light turned green, and she and her Explorer shadow pulled forward. Instead of going through the next light, she turned left. The Explorer turned left too.

  It was another strike against the man in the SUV, but not conclusive. They were on the through road to Pinole. He could be on his way there.

  She turned right onto a residential street, and the Explorer did the same.

  Either she was predicting this guy’s drive home or he was following her. Her palms turned slick on the wheel, and she gripped it harder.

  She slowed to a crawl, and the Explorer matched her speed, although he maintained his distance.

  “Yeah, you’re definitely following me, you son of a bitch.”

  She knew this neighborhood well, but she doubted he did. She took another left, knowing full well it was a cul-de-sac, and he turned in after her. His mistake made, he stopped the SUV at the mouth of the dead-end street.

  Olivia jumped from her car and rushed him. His eyes widened in surprise.

  She thumped a fist on the SUV’s hood. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  The man held his hands up. “Sorry. You’ve got it all wrong.”

  “Who sent you? Roy? Finz? Tell me.”

  He pointed at the back of her car.

  Olivia didn’t turn. She wouldn’t let him distract her.

  “Your plate. It’s hanging off.”

  She glanced at the back of the Audi in disbelief. Her license plate was hanging at an angle, missing a mounting screw.

  “I saw it hanging off, and I was just trying to let you know. The cops will ticket you for that.”

  Embarrassment flooded through her. “I’m sorry, but you should know better than to follow a woman like that. You could have honked or something.”

  “If I’d honked or flashed my lights, it would have been just as scary. I thought I would catch up to you at a stop sign or something and let you know.”

  She nodded. “Again, I’m sorry.”

  “You know what? Keep your apology, lady. This is why people don’t help each other, because they always assume the worst.” He jammed the Explorer into reverse and roared back onto the main street.

  Olivia mumbled a curse under her breath. She was seeing monsters where there weren’t any to find. Infidelity Limited was turning her into a basket case.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Roy’s basement served as Infidelity Limited’s operations, which Beth had named the Vault. At over fifteen hundred square feet and fully finished, it served as home to everyone’s dirty secrets, with the evidence to back it up. Roy lost himself down here for days at a time, updating his files and managing the physical evidence. He felt like a gardener tending to his land. An off-site location might be a safer bet, but Roy liked the facility he’d built under his home. It was secure and priva
te.

  Today was a housekeeping day. Roy had Olivia’s file open on the computer as he wrote up Proctor’s account of Richard Shaw’s murder. If Proctor ever tried to throw him under the bus, the tire iron with Richard Shaw’s blood and flesh welded to one end would make its way to the Concord police. The tire iron served a double purpose. When the time came to burn Olivia, it would be gifted to the cops with a supporting story that incriminated her. He closed the file.

  “And that’s you done, Mr. Proctor. For the moment.”

  He picked up the tire iron and carried it over to the bank of refrigerators that lined one wall. He rebagged it, transferring it from the Hefty bag Proctor had used to the wax-lined paper bag that helped preserve the blood evidence. The bag was tagged with its case-file number. He just needed somewhere cool to keep the evidence safe. The blood evidence and DNA didn’t have to be perfectly preserved. In fact, they needed to degrade. Five years from now, it wouldn’t make sense for the cops to find the murder weapon with blood on it as fresh as the day of the murder.

  Not everything went in the fridges. Nonbiological evidence, such as firearms, clothes, videotapes, and audio recordings, went in one of the storage cabinets lining the wall across from the fridges.

  He placed the tire iron on its shelf inside refrigerator number sixteen. It was almost full. He couldn’t believe he and Beth had filled sixteen units with the nooses to hang their clients for giving in to their baser emotions. That was the problem with people—as a breed, they were weak.

  His cell rang. It was Carrington.

  “What is it, Lou?”

  “Olivia Shaw saw me. My cover is blown.”

  It wasn’t like Carrington to screw up. “How?”

  “She noticed me tailing her and led me into a cul-de-sac. It was a total sucker punch.”