Such Wicked Friends Read online

  Such Wicked Friends

  A Novel

  Rod Hoisington

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2011 Rod Hoisington

  This book is available in paperback at online retailers

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.v11t10k13C

  Cover design by Mark Hoisington

  markhoisington.com

  Editorial Assistance

  Karen L. Hoisington

  Patricia A. Lavins

  For Vanna

  Sandy Reid Mystery Series

  by Rod Hoisington

  One Deadly Sister

  The Price of Candy

  Such Wicked Friends

  Chasing Suspect Three

  Alive After Friday

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Addendum

  “Justice is incidental to law and order.” ~ J. Edgar Hoover

  Chapter One

  Almost time. Sandy Reid was told to meet the woman in the condominium courtyard at eight. Why did the woman insist on meeting after dark like this? Okay, so she’s terrified of her husband, but couldn’t she sneak away from him and meet in our office? It didn’t make sense and it made Sandy nervous. This was one of those times she would have patted the gun in her handbag except she’d never carried a gun. Maybe she should start.

  She parked on the roadway in front of the beachfront condominium and stepped out into a heavy gust of salty mugginess. She turned quickly to put her back to the blasting wind coming off the ocean and walked hurriedly alongside the white stucco wall toward the courtyard entrance. On the phone, the woman had explained she’d finally found the obscene photos her husband was using to blackmail her and could now divorce him. Yeah, ditch the bastard, Sandy thought, ditch him and I’ll help you.

  She turned the corner and could see that the wall ended at a wrought iron gate near the lobby entrance. She could now hear party music and laughter and see people moving around inside on the ground floor in what appeared to be some sort of community room. The gate into the courtyard area stood partially open. Someone had wedged a wad of paper into the latch to keep the gate from springing closed and locking. Maybe that wasn’t unusual, then again maybe she was expected and it was unlocked for her benefit.

  She pushed through the gate. In the dim light, she could sense the area was well landscaped and detected the sultry sweet fragrance of Night Blooming Jasmine. She looked around the courtyard, which was large and not well lighted. The luminous blue-green of a large meandering pool cast undulating shadowy light and hidden lamps in the flowers and shrubs created pools of light to mark the pathways. The courtyard was quiet and seemed deserted.

  As she walked along the shadowed path, she could make out a woman sitting alone in a white wrought-iron chair facing toward the far wall. The woman appeared young, at least from the back, with long brown hair falling loosely over the collar of her sleeveless white blouse.

  “Hello?” Was all Sandy could think of saying as she approached. She didn’t know the woman’s name and didn’t want to startle her. The woman didn’t answer, offered no acknowledgment at all.

  Sandy glanced around. No one else was in the courtyard. This had to be the woman. She continued walking toward her. “Excuse me.” She circled and stood before her. The woman didn’t look up and then Sandy saw why. The woman’s eyes were frozen wide and stared straight ahead. She had a neat hole in the middle of her forehead, and blood dripped from the corner of her mouth down onto her white blouse. She guessed the woman was about her own age, slightly thirty. Once she had been pretty.

  Impulsively, Sandy placed two fingers on the woman’s neck. Her touch caused the body to slump sideways in the chair. She jerked her hand back feeling stupid as she realized there was not going to be a pulse on a person with a bullet hole between her eyes. The danger of the situation slowly seeped through to her. She stepped away instinctively and pressed her back against the wall. She glanced around quickly. Nothing had changed. Nothing was moving. The courtyard was empty. All was quiet except for the continuous low drumbeat of ruffling waves and the laughter of the merrymakers inside the building.

  Her hands were shaking as she fumbled for the phone in her handbag. She steadied the phone with both hands and dialed 911. That’s when she noticed the large manila envelope resting on the woman’s lap. She flipped the phone shut cancelling the call. She stared at the manila envelope unable to think clearly. Of course, she would call 911, yet that envelope bothered her. Does it contain the incriminating photographs the woman mentioned on the phone?

  Sandy pressed her eyes closed tightly to keep tears from welling up. She felt a sorrowful affinity for the young woman she’d never seen alive. Although someone had just blown away the woman’s remaining life, Sandy had the peculiar feeling the woman wasn’t beyond help. Whatever reputation she had enjoyed up to now could also be blown away, if the envelope contained the questionable photos, and if they were made public. Perhaps, the photos were from a naive youthful time before she wised up to what slick-talking men with their cameras were all about. This unfortunate woman certainly had family and friends who’d want to remember her fondly. The remembrance wouldn’t be so fond after someone publicized the photos. Of course, the police would attempt to keep the photos private; nevertheless dozens if not hundreds of eyes would see them. They might be passed around and someday end up on the Internet.

  She hesitated then reached down and slowly lifted the envelope away from the body. The padded manila envelope felt light. Nothing seemed to shake around in it, yet she couldn’t actually judge how full it was. She turned it over. The sealing tape was cut and the tabs were loose. Nothing on the underside except spots of blood.

  Incredibly dumb of her to be touching anything at a crime scene, she thought. Yet, if indeed the envelope contained such photos, here was the one chance to take them away and rescue at least part of this woman’s life. After all, hadn’t this woman intended to become a client? Hadn’t she intended to have her lawyer possess the embarrassing photos? Shouldn’t her lawyer decide if they were necessary in some legal proceeding or should be destroyed? Could Sandy make that argument?

  She jumped suddenly when the phone in her pocket rang. A text from her law partner, Martin. Thanks a lot, she thought, for putting me into this mess. His text could wait. The startling sound had jarred her back to reality. She shook her head to help clear her mind of crazy thoughts.

  What
was she doing? Less than ninety days earlier, she’d sat for the Florida bar exam. Her career journey of study and sacrifice to that point had been long and arduous. The choices she made now would determine her success or failure as a lawyer. And becoming a lawyer was more than a dream; it was her life. As a law student, she was a cute kid running around pissing people off while doing her field investigation work for a criminal law firm. Her new profession expected more. She’d have to change her ways. She wasn’t just a badass girl anymore. No more tricking suspects and witnesses into doing what they didn’t what to do, breezing through doors marked “Private” and opening doors because people should have locked them. At some point, she must abandon her sassy behavior and become a proper lawyer representing law and order. Now was the time to start. This was a serious crime scene. This was evidence in her hands. She placed the envelope carefully back on the woman’s lap and took out her phone.

  The bright glare of a flashlight blinded her. A man’s voice commanded, “Police. Get down on the ground, lady. Face down on the ground. Now!”

  Chapter Two

  Three hours later, Sandy sat rubbing her wrist, trying to get it all straight in her mind. She was on the second floor of the Park Beach police building in Detective Sergeant Edwin Jaworski’s cubicle. Jaworski was a law enforcement veteran who successfully combined a sincere folksy manner with a no-nonsense cop attitude. Honest folks had nothing to fear from him. He sat comfortably in front of the computer monitor wearing his baseball cap, with the Chicago Bears’ logo, cocked down on his forehead.

  “Have they identified the woman yet?” she asked.

  “She’s been dead what, two or three hours? No, we don’t know who she is or even if she lives in that condo. Didn’t have a handbag for ID. You didn’t see a handbag, did you? And you say Martin Bronner didn’t get her name when she phoned him.”

  She shook her head. “Didn’t get a name.” She shrugged, and when she put her hands down in her lap, she noticed a spot of blood on the back of her right hand. She slowly moved her other hand to cover the blood spot. She didn’t know why she was hiding it. He was still busy doing his pecking on the keyboard. “You a Chicago Bears’ fan?” Silly question she thought.

  “No, I wear this cap to give me sort of a worldly look. You know like I’ve been around, all the way to Chicago.” He touched the brim and struck a slight pose for her.

  “Oh yeah, you nailed the look. That cap, your jeans and the black T-shirt.”

  He took the cap off and looked at it. “Seriously, I wear it because I like the colors, blue and gold. I found this cap on the street while working a Fourth of July parade. Stuck it on thinking someone would recognize it and ask about it. Nobody did. That was three years ago.” The detective swiveled and squinted at her over the top of his glasses. “You know, you’re pretty cool for someone sitting in a police station at midnight after being caught red-handed with a dead body.”

  At that moment, she didn’t feel too cool. The detective turned back to his typing. She placed her hands on her knees so she could look casually down. The spot was dime-sized and definitely dried blood. The woman’s blood. Like a sign. How had it happened? Why was that little dark spot so upsetting? Tightness took hold of her shoulders. She let out a long sigh; she could handle this. This police routine was expected; Jaworski would soon finish his report, and she’d go home to bed. Tomorrow the police would investigate further. They’d check out her story. And her name would be a mere footnote in the incident report as the person who discovered the body. No problem...except for one thing. She had touched that damn envelope. “You don’t remember me do you, Eddy?”

  “You’re kinda young. Couldn’t have been too long ago. Let me guess. Were you acting out at the mall, I scolded you and sent you home? I don’t know. Cops don’t remember everyone they’ve arrested.”

  “I’ve never been arrested and I’m definitely not under arrest now. So don’t even kid about that part.”

  “Of course not. Your gunpowder residue test was negative. Sorry about the cuffs, they didn’t need to be on that long.” After he’d first spoken to her at the scene, he had her wait in the back of his vehicle. He cuffed one wrist and snapped the other cuff around a handle in the back seat. “Sorry, I just didn’t want you wandering off while I was busy securing the crime scene.”

  “The police manual says you should cuff both hands behind the back to inhibit the suspect from being able to brush off any GSR that might be on his hands.”

  “Okay. So you’re sharper than I thought. Truth is I wasn’t much worried about you. You say you’re a lawyer now? Congratulations. You’re not going to sue me for cuffing you when you weren’t actually under arrest, are you?”

  “Geez, Eddy, I’m Sandy Reid. You gave me a burned hamburger and a warm beer at the Chief’s party last month.”

  “His birthday party? Oh, yeah, you were with Chip Goddard. You weren’t wearing a snazzy business suit that afternoon. You were the one had on those white....”

  “Shorts. Too bad you didn’t notice my face.”

  “Okay, gotcha placed now, Sandy. You worked for that defense law firm in Philly. Do you miss running around doing investigative work?”

  “I sacrificed that job up there to help defend my brother against that murder charge down here. As a field investigator I ran all over the Delaware Valley doing grunt work for a firm of criminal defense attorneys.”

  “Fancy white collar stuff, I suppose?”

  “Not always. My job was to find the dirty little secrets hidden in records and reports. Track down witnesses who didn’t want to be found and get answers out of people who didn’t want to give answers. We represented the perps, so the cops were on the opposite side. But I talked to them anyway even though they were trying to nail the guys we were defending. I got my clothes dirty, my nails broken and my ass patted. And you wonder if I miss it? Well, actually I do.”

  “You could have gone back up there after clearing your brother.”

  “True. I hadn’t intended to live here permanently, and I was quite anxious over giving up that opportunity. The firm offered to pay for my final law studies and give me a staff attorney position when I got my Pennsylvania license. Instead, I stayed down here with all the usual anxieties that come with a move into the unknown.” She didn’t mention how in Florida her love life had unexpectedly blossomed.

  “So both you and your brother live here in Park Beach now. What about your Philadelphia family?”

  “Don’t have any. Mom and dad are gone, died in an accident on the Schuylkill Expressway. Just me and my brother Raymond now.”

  “And you both like it here.”

  “Well, he’s now running around Europe with his girlfriend, supposedly on business. But yes, I love it. I can drive my sports car with the top down all year and go to the beach on Christmas Day. What’s not to like?”

  He gave her a slight grin. “You’d be surprised how many small town lawyers are starving. If being a lawyer doesn’t work out for you, we could use you in law enforcement.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not going to fail. I learned a lot about the legal side of crime from my job as a field investigator and much more from the staff of defense lawyers. I’d pester them with questions at the water cooler, corner them in the elevator and join their table uninvited at lunch. I was a joke at first, but they got used to me. As soon as I learn all the rules of this game, I’m going to play it better than anyone else.”

  “Let me complete this incident report and finish your statement, then you can get out of here and go conquer the world. What the hell were you doing there anyway?”

  “I told you, Martin took the victim’s phone call. I share an office with him now.”

  “Yeah, I know Martin.”

  “The vic called him earlier today. Said her husband was involved in something shady. She wanted to divorce him. Supposedly, he had some embarrassing photos of her and threatened to release them if she proceeded with the divorce.”

  “Big deal
. Lots of men have sexy photos of their wives they wouldn’t want pasted in the family photo album.”

  “These are different according to her. Her husband isn’t one of the men in the photos with her. That throws it into a whole different category. Even though Martin was a bit upset with all she was telling him, he can’t refuse any woman asking for help. So he agreed to meet her. As soon as he hung up, he realized dealing with her wasn’t really his thing. When I came in he pleaded for me to go instead.”

  “Bad guys tend to do their deeds in the dark,” the detective said. “I know Martin prefers to stay in the sunshine.”

  She nodded in agreement. “Martin is definitely a sunny side of the street type fellow. I prefer a dark alley murder with a few creeps thrown in. My grandfather used to tell me scary stories in the dark. Doesn’t get any better than that. Anyway, I agreed to meet her. Did you tell the crime scene guys I touched the body checking for a pulse? Tell them I’m sorry. Entirely pointless. Checking for a pulse when she’s sitting there with her eyes staring up, blood dripping down out of her mouth. Not smart, huh?”

  He said, “At least you didn’t’ try CPR.”

  She remembered the woman was warm when she touched her neck. “Also, tell the crime guys she was sitting upright before I touched her. I sort of tipped her over. Sorry about that too.” At some point, she must also confess she handled the envelope even if her prints aren’t on it. She knew the crime scene crew was very thorough. Every tiny bit might have meaning. Maybe she put it back in a different position, or maybe a strand of the shooter’s hair was lost when she moved it.

  “I see you rubbing your hands. You can go wash up now if you want to, Sandy. Get that GSR test residue off your hands. Restroom is there in the hall.”

  She nodded and walked to the restroom. She turned on the water in the basin and looked again at the spot of dried blood on the back of her right hand, hesitant to wash away the trace of the woman. Did she get it when she checked for a pulse or when she picked up the envelope? She didn’t remember any blood dripping on her. Had the woman touched her with a drop of blood because she wanted her involved? Sandy smiled at that crazy idea. She washed her hands knowing she would remember the spot of blood and thinking about the killer’s hands covered with the invisible stain of murder, which can never be washed off.