Death angel, p.20
Death Angel, page 20
After she toweled herself, she used a corner of the thick terry cloth to wipe a circle on the fogged surface of the mirror. She stared at her unsmiling face. There were no tears, only a bone-weary sadness. She had not cried in the shower. For the third day in a row she had not cried.
Since Richard’s disappearance she’d tried to bring order back to her life. She ate, slept, cleaned the house, and did the laundry according to a strict regimen. Her father, and then Richard, had always stressed discipline. Scheduling her activities kept her in balance. It enabled her to keep her emotions in check. Where there had once been sadness, now there was only anger.
Staring into the mirror, she remembered Mike’s words after Jenny died. “Once you get angry, you’ll begin to heal.”
It was strange that she could think about Jenny’s death but still referred only to Richard’s disappearance. She knew he was dead, but the lack of physical evidence kept her from any real acceptance of the fact.
Richard had been missing for six weeks. In all that time, his body had not turned up. Leidecker told her that it was not uncommon. She tried never to think about Richard being trapped forever beneath the surface of the lake, although her dreams were peopled with horrific watery images.
Wrapping the towel around her body, she brushed her hair into a wet ponytail, returned to the bedroom, and dressed in a navy linen wrap skirt and a white blouse.
Downstairs the house showed the evidence of her disinterest. The rooms were neat but unlived in. She spent her time in the kitchen, family room, and the backyard. The rose garden had become a place of solace. She resented the rainy days when she couldn’t sit outside after work, surrounded by the sights and smells of the flowers. She opened the doors to the deck for a quick check outside.
It was only eight o’clock and already it was hot. The weatherman had predicted possible nineties for the day, not untypical for the first week of July. She raised her face to the sun, feeling the heat penetrate her skin, spreading slowly through her body.
Signing up with the temporary agency had been the right course of action. The first two weeks she’d worked short assignments of one or two days duration. In her zombie state, it was exactly what she needed. All she had to do was show up, do her work, and go home. She was polite and cordial to the other workers, but kept herself detached from any more personal contact.
It encouraged her when she didn’t see anyone she knew and no one appeared to connect her with the publicity surrounding Jenny’s death or Richard’s disappearance. Without makeup and with her hair pulled back behind her neck, she looked very different from the pictures in the paper.
With a quick glance at her watch, she cleaned up the kitchen, took her lunch and a can of soda from the refrigerator, and left. It was Wednesday and her assignment was for the full week with the added bonus that the office was just ten minutes from the house.
The offices of Garvey & Associates were in the center of Pickard, a one-story brick building across the park from city hall. Beyond the waiting room was an open area where the secretaries and assistants had work spaces opposite the offices of the three associates.
The final work space was outside Joseph Garvey’s office. Unlike the others, it had windows with a view of the parking lot, unexciting but less claustrophobic. Opposite the door to Garvey’s office was an arched doorway that led to the conference room and a small kitchen.
Paula Craig, the gray-haired office manager, was situated in an alcove that afforded some privacy from the rest of the room. Kate’s desk was between Paula’s and the two women who worked for Garvey. Loretta McCabe and Gail Richardson were both single and in their early twenties. They had been friendly, but they had little in common with Kate since they considered her ancient at thirty-one.
When Kate’s service had given her the assignment, she had immediately recognized Joseph Garvey’s name. He was a well-known corporate lawyer and one of Pickard’s more celebrated citizens. His wife Lisa, a gracious sponsor of numerous charities, appeared frequently on the society page of the Pickard Advocate and the Chicago papers. Kate had met them only once, when they came to Jenny’s funeral in Garvey’s official capacity as assistant mayor.
She parked behind the building and once inside began work immediately. It was late morning before she paused for a break. She pressed against the back of the desk chair to ease the ache between her shoulder blades. Her fingers were clammy against the hard, plastic keys and she stopped typing to wipe them against her skirt.
Most of the work was correspondence. Nothing particularly interesting. One of the advantages of working as a temp was that she didn’t have to stay long at an assignment. Thankfully, she would only be working for Joseph Garvey for a week. Paula had said he was a perfectionist. Petty tyrant, more likely.
Taking the letter out of the printer, she dropped it on the pile, pushed her chair away from the desk, and stretched her legs.
The door of the conference room opened, and Joseph Garvey bustled across the room to his office.
Garvey looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, stocky, bordering on the flabby. Understated suits with the fit of expensive tailoring gave him the slick look of Gentleman’s Quarterly.
In contrast, his features had an earthy quality that was almost tangibly sensual. His lips were thick; his nose was finely cut, ending in plump nostrils. His nondescript hazel eyes were deep set, slumberous. He might have been handsome except for his acne-scarred complexion that was too white, as though he spent all his time in shadowed courtrooms.
Kate wondered if his air of importance was irritating to his fellow attorneys.
The only time Garvey had spoken to her was to criticize her work. It didn’t bother her that he was particular about his letters. After all, the man was paying her salary. It was his manner that annoyed her. He never looked at her directly. He checked the letters, made additions or corrections, and then shoved the letters to be corrected across the desk without acknowledging her presence.
“Damn it, Loretta. I don’t understand why this has happened again.” Garvey’s harsh voice broke into Kate’s thoughts. The door of his office was open, so that his words could be heard distinctly in the outer room. “This is the second time in a month you’ve taken personal time during office hours.”
Kate flinched at the sound of a hand slapping on a wood surface and pictured the lawyer glaring at his poor secretary. In the three days she had been at the office, she had been an unfortunate witness to several of Garvey’s temper tantrums. She didn’t know what else to call them. The man blew up at the most inconsequential things. She wondered why Loretta didn’t quit.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Garvey. I had a doctor’s appointment.”
“That’s no excuse. If you wish to remain in my employ, you’ll have to do better. You know the standards I require. I believe I explained it fully when I hired you. It’s not like you’re right out of secretarial school. You’ve been here almost a year.”
A year working for that man! Either Loretta received an enormous salary or she needed a reference badly to put up with such verbal abuse. Kate stared at the computer screen and spotted a misspelling. She kept forgetting to use spell-check.
“Lunch time, Kate.”
Paula’s voice startled her, and she blinked several times to bring her thoughts back to the present.
“Lucky thing,” Kate said. “My stomach’s growling.”
“I’m running down to the pancake house. It’s beastly hot, but I like to get outside for a bit. You don’t have to eat at your desk, you know. You’re welcome to come along with me.”
“Thanks for asking, but I think I’ll stay in,” Kate said, keeping her voice casual. “Go ahead. I didn’t realize I was holding you up. I never even heard Gail and Loretta leave.”
“Those two always keep one eye on the clock.” Paula laughed, then wrinkled her forehead in uncertainty. “Are you positive you don’t want to come?”
“I’m sure,” Kate said. She opened the bottom desk drawer and held up a paperback in one hand and a brown bag in the other. “I promised myself I’d finish this book today. And I’ve a sandwich and a Diet Coke in here.”
“Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” The older woman stood uncertainly beside her desk, then nodded and left.
Kate sat perfectly still as the silence of the room closed in around her. In the outer offices there was some activity, so she didn’t feel isolated, only blissfully alone.
She got up and walked through the archway to the kitchen. She took a plastic glass from the countertop and reached into the refrigerator for some ice. Back at her desk, she poured the Diet Coke and opened the plastic bag, sniffing hungrily at the chicken sandwich. She stretched her legs out under the desk and began eating as she turned the pages of the historical saga she had been reading for the last week.
When she finished, she crumbled the plastic bag and the napkin, and reached for the brown paper bag. She hit the edge of her glass and for one heart-stopping moment thought it would topple over on the freshly printed letters. When the glass settled back into place, she pulled in a great gulp of air and blew it out slowly.
“Judas. That’s all I’d need. Soda-stained letters.”
She should have cleared off her desk before she started lunch. She got up, arranged the letters in a neat pile, and walked across the room to Garvey’s office.
The office reflected the meticulous Garvey. The visitors’ chairs were centered precisely in front of his desk. The wall on the right, facing the windows, was covered with diplomas and certificates, all framed identically, marching in two even lines above a credenza. Behind the desk were bookcases, filled with books, arranged apparently by size rather than content.
The desk was a contemporary rectangle of teak, the grain sharp contrasts of brown. There was a green blotter in the middle. Two pens in brass holders were set in a green malachite base, positioned on the edge of the blotter closest to the visitors’ chairs.
Kate crossed the thick beige carpet, circled the desk, and leaned over, placing the letters directly in the center of the green blotter. As she leaned forward, she caught the cloyingly sweet smell of butterscotch.
The slightest whiff of the distinctive odor reminded Kate of the half-sucked piece of butterscotch found in the pocket of Jenny’s windbreaker. Sinking down into Garvey’s chair, she scrubbed her eyes as if to erase the memory.
Opening her eyes, she spotted a pile of candy wrappers in the ashtray. She reached across and picked up a handful. Her breath caught in her throat at the bright tartan logo. ButterSkots.
Closing her hand to hide the wrappers from sight, she pressed her fist against her bosom. Her whole body shook in reaction.
“What the hell are you doing in my office?”
Twenty
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
Joseph Garvey’s voice was so unexpected that a small shriek burst from Kate’s lips. She shrank back in the chair.
“How dare you snoop around my office,” he snapped.
Seeing the enraged man in the doorway, she was unable to speak. All she could do was stare. She stumbled to her feet, jamming the candy wrappers into the pocket of her skirt.
“I really am sorry for my intrusion, Mr. Garvey. I . . . I wasn’t feeling well and I just sat down in your chair.”
“Well, get out. You have no right to be in here.”
It was the tone of his voice that brought Kate back to her senses. Anger boiled to the surface. “And you have no right to be so rude,” Kate said.
“I pay your wages, miss.”
“Not anymore.”
Ignoring him completely, Kate brushed past him. She moved quickly across the room to her desk, picked up her book, opened the drawer and withdrew her purse. She did not look back as she left the office.
She drove home, still shaken by the ugly scene with Garvey. She unlocked the front door, dropped her keys on the hall table, and headed for the family room. Kicking off her sandals, she padded across to the couch and flopped onto the soft upholstery.
She couldn’t believe how angry she was. Before she could change her mind, she called the temp agency and told them she wouldn’t be going back to Garvey and Associates.
As she hung up, it started to rain. Fat drops of water splashed against the windows and she crossed to the patio doors to stare out at the backyard. The sky was dark. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she could see the flicker of lightning against the black clouds.
Kate had always loved summer storms, and she had taught Jenny the joy of walking in the rain. As long as there was no lightning, they would pull on raincoats and boots and head outside.
She could still picture Jenny, face puckered as she turned it up to the leaden sky, her eyelashes trembling on her cheeks in spiky clumps and her tongue extended to catch the raindrops. Jenny would race along the sidewalk, jumping with both feet into any large puddle of water. Summer rain was a time of wild abandon for both of them. Now, a storm only roused a flood of sadness in Kate’s heart.
With one finger, she followed a raindrop’s zigzag path down the glass. God, she missed Jenny and Richard.
Silent tears rolled down her face, but she made no attempt to wipe them away. The pain was there as it always was when she thought of how much she had lost. She had to let it go. But God, it was so hard.
When the crying eased, she went out to the kitchen for a Kleenex. She wiped the tears from her face and blew her nose. Crumpling the tissue, she shoved it into the pocket of her skirt. She was surprised at the crinkle of cellophane and reached deeper to bring out the contents.
The ButterSkots wrappers.
She’d forgotten that she’d stuffed them into her pocket when Garvey appeared so suddenly in the doorway. She didn’t want anything to remind her of the wretched man. Walking across the floor to the wastebasket, she opened her fingers and watched as the plaid ButterSkots wrappers fluttered down onto the trash.
Wanting to forget the whole incident, she decided to go to the health club. She’d gone back to swimming laps several weeks earlier, and she knew the exercise would be good for her.
It was seven o’clock when she returned to the house. Rain blew in giant sheets as the full brunt of the storm hit Pickard. Shaking out her umbrella, she propped it in the corner of the foyer. She was almost lightheaded from her workout. She’d run for an hour on the indoor track before she went down to the pool. It was satisfying to note that she hadn’t even been breathless when she finished her laps.
The phone rang as she entered the kitchen. It was Leidecker.
“I hope I’m not getting you at a bad time,” he said.
“No. This is fine,” she said, her heart beating rapidly at the sound of his voice.
“Good. If you’re going to be home for awhile, I’d like to drop by.”
“It’s raining.” It was a stupid comment but she couldn’t think of any polite way to put him off. She waited but when he didn’t say anything, she grimaced. “I’m here now, but I may be going out later.”
“Actually, I’m just leaving.”
He had already hung up before she could respond. She had just flipped on the front door light when she heard the sound of a car. She unlocked the front door as footsteps hurried up the walk.
Leidecker stood in the rain. Kate clung to the edge of the door, blocking his entry.
She saw his eyes flicker past her shoulder to the dryness of the hall, but still she didn’t move. She didn’t want him inside the house. With Richard gone, admitting Leidecker seemed an act of disloyalty.
“May I come in?”
Leidecker’s deep voice broke through Kate’s paralysis. She stepped back and jerked the door open.
“I’m sorry,” she said, glancing at the water streaming down his face. “I think the storm has me spooked. Come on back and you can dry off.”
She hurried to the kitchen, got out several clean towels, and handed them to Leidecker.
He wiped his face, toweled his hair, and then combed it with his fingers. Wet, his hair was dark brown, the gray more prominent. In casual clothes he was far less threatening. He brushed the water off the shoulders of his shirt and then dried off his arms, blotting the watch on his wrist.
“Is it working?” she asked guiltily.
He looked across at her, raising an eyebrow as he caught her intonation. He didn’t speak immediately but when he did, a hint of amusement was in his voice.
“It takes a licking but keeps on ticking,” he said. “I never had much use for expensive watches. All I want is one that tells me the time. My wife wanted to buy me a Rolex once. I should have realized then how incompatible we were. If I had, I wouldn’t have been so surprised to end up divorced.”
“I didn’t know you were divorced,” Kate said. “I’m sorry.”
Her apology came from a sense of self-reproach because, even though she had known Carl prior to Jenny’s death, she had never taken the time to learn anything about his personal life. In her defense, he was a private man. His air of professional distance did not invite questions.
“It was a long time ago,” he said.
“Do you miss being married?” Her own loss made her ask the question.
“Strangely enough, the thing I miss the most is going to movies.” His voice was reflective. “It’s not the same watching videos.”
It surprised Kate to discover a softer, more sensitive side to Carl. He appeared almost approachable and she took advantage of it.
“Any kids?”
“No. It’s my one regret. I wanted a batch of them, but after the divorce I discovered she’d been taking birth control pills the whole time.”
“Didn’t she want children?”
“Yes. She just didn’t want them to grow up fatherless.” He smiled in response to Kate’s obvious bewilderment. “She never could get used to my being a cop. She focused on the danger. Every time I went to work, she was sure she’d never see me again. She wanted me to give it up, but law enforcement suited me.” He shrugged. “At any rate, she remarried. Her husband works for a company that makes computer software. Safe and financially rewarding. They live in Chicago and have two kids. Boys.”
