Deadwrong
“Daphne Fitzgerald, you’ve lost what little mind you ever had!” Veronica Hamilton’s thin brows arched high above astonished eyes as she slid onto the breakfast nook bench and sat directly across from her friend. “I can’t believe you would even think such a thing about Leonard.”
“Well, you did say Leonard took out a million-dollar life insurance policy on you.”
“Yeah, on both of us. If one of us dies unexpectedly, God forbid, he doesn’t want the survivor to be saddled with a bunch of bills.”
“No one takes that much insurance out on somebody else unless they’re planning on collecting.” Daphne spoke slowly, as if she were instructing a small child.
“Daphne, that’s just plain silly. Leonard loves me.” She let out her breath in exasperation and began drumming her fingers on the table.
“Being naive is how you become another statistic on some homicide detective’s data sheet.”
Veronica narrowed her somber blue eyes and frowned. “Not everyone who takes out a large life insurance policy plans on collecting by homicide. If they did, insurance companies would go out of business. Besides, Leonard has an equally large policy on himself, does that mean I am going to knock him off?” Her voice turned strident.
“Daphne, you have been watching way too many Lifetime movies.”
“I may be wrong, but it’s always better to be careful...” Daphne’s voice faded into her coffee cup. Her golden bracelets jingled as she reached across the gleaming walnut table and silenced her friend’s drumming fingers. “How has he been lately?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know. Have you noticed anything strange about his behavior? Like...does he take his phone calls in the other room, or stay out late and make up some lame excuse about working late?” she asked, sipping the last drop of coffee and uncrossing her legs.
Scooting from the breakfast nook, Veronica shot Daphne an appraising look. “More coffee?”
“Yes, thanks.”
Veronica scooped up the cups and carried them to the kitchen. She could not believe her best friend was saying such horrible things about Leonard and she had to bite her tongue to keep from telling Daphne to butt out!
She refilled the cups and headed back to the breakfast nook.
THE HEELS OF Leonard Hamilton’s brightly polished wingtip shoes clicked against the hardwood floor as he shouldered his way past the group of teenagers in front of the magazine rack thumbing through theew Spiderman comic. He stepped by an older couple scanning the romance novels andthen he crossed the room to the classics. He stood in front of a small antique oak table and stared meditatively at the broken glass case, its valuable cargo stolen.
Leonard detected a presence behind him. Focused on the desecrated box, he had not noticed the advancing footsteps. His heels rotated his six-foot, one hundred and eighty pound frame with ease.
"May I help you?" Leonard's clipped voice echoed his irritation.
The short stocky man with a day's growth of black stubble standing in front of him looked taken aback. He wore a beige electrician's uniform, brown boots and smelled of Vitalis, an obvious attempt at covering the heavy scent of sweat.
His black hair was covered with a Memphis Tiger's cap, the blue brim cast a shadow over the ruddy complexion of his forehead.
"Mr. Hamilton?"
"Yes?" Leonard replied dryly.
"I''m Frank Brown from Hidden Eye Electronics. You called yesterday," he said reaching out his thick-boned hand.
They shook hands.
"Yes I did," Leonard said as he reached inside his jaccket and brought out a monogrammed handkerchief.
"Good. I was afraid they'd messed up at the office and gave me the wrong address."
Leonard smiled amiably flashing a mouthful of white teeth. "Um, let's talk in my office,"
he said in a low conspiratorial voice while wiping the touch of the man's hand away and then returned the handkerchief to his pocket.
"Sure," Frank said with a half-shrug of his shoulders.
Leonard turned toward the counter. A girl in her early twenties held captive by a Nevada Barr novel was propped behind the cash register. She wore no make-up or jewelry except for a small metal stud in her tongue which she kept flicking back and forth against her front teeth. Her short brown hair was a commentary in disarray, which Leonard knew was the latest style and not the advent of laziness. "Sara, keep an eye on things, I may be awhile," he said and turned on his heels.
"Sure boss," Sara replied and then added, "Don't forget the meeting at the Chamber of Commerce."
Hunch-shouldered, as if carrying a heavy invisible block around his neck, Frank followed and with each step the tool belt below his pouch jingled a metallic tune. Frank shadowed Leonard past a display half-filled with John Grisham's latest thriller, then down a row of used paperack books to a sign above a door that read OFFICE.
Leonard pushed through the heavy oak door. He felt for the switch plate, snapped on the light and walked to his desk.
Frank followed him in and stood in the doorway.
"Shut the door," Leonard said, dropping into his swivel chair. He picked up his pipe andplaced it between his teeth; it dangled from his lips like a caricature of Sherlock Holmes. He struck amatch and touched the blaze to the aromatic tobacco leaves inside the bowl. He puffed hard on the pipe until his mouth filled with the sweet taste of cherry smoke.
After shutting the door, Frank glanced querulously around the mahogany-paneled room. He made his way toward one of the two Victorian armchairs which stood side by side on an Oriental rug spread out in front of a massive desk. Above a row of metal filing cabinets, behind the desk, the wall was covered to the ceiling with old books, except for a weathered sign on the top shelf, it faded cracked letters spelled our HAMILTON BOOKS est. 1938. The other walls were adorned with abstract oil paintings. To Frank, the twirling chaotic colors looked like something a child might scribble with crayons.
Leonard motioned toward the chairs as wisps of smoke drifted from his pipe. The white clouds wavered momentarily and vanished quickly into the return duct in the ceiling above his desk.
Frank sat on the edge of the chair and adjusted his belt so the tools would not scratch the oak armrests. "Nice office," he said, glancing at the large screen computer-monitor on the desk.
"I was robbed the other night," Leonard siad flatly. His ice blue eyes shot a look of such ferocity that Frank felt the intensity of his duress.
"Ah, I gathered as much from the empty box and broken glass. It must have been something very valuable in that box."
Leonard raked a frustrated hand through his silver-streaked hair. "Priceless. A manuscript typed by William Faulkner."
Frank shook his head in sympathy.
"Somehow, the crooks were able to circumvent the alarm," Leonard said irritably.
"So, you would like to upgrade your alarm system?"
"No. I want the creeps to break back in," he fumed.
"What?" Frank sounded confused.
"Wat I would like to do is have listening devices installed. Something that will alert me to their presence when I'm not here."
"I see. Well I can do that, but it's going to be expensive."
Leonard laughed. "I don't care how much it costs. I'm going to be coming int o a lot of mo..."his voice faded into the puff of smoke.
"Good." Frank paused to scratch his stubby chin. "To settle my curiosity, just how did they get in?"
"I'm not sure. I didn't find evidence of a broken window or a mimmied lock."
"Maybe it was an inside job," Frank suggested.
Leonard looked skeptical. "I don't see how or who."
"Um, did you report the burgulary to the police?"
"Yeah, for all the good it did."
"Do you have insurance?"
"Yes."
"That's good."
"I guess so, but I'd rather have the manuscript. It was my father's book, given to him personally by the author. It has sentimental value, a family heirloom, that can never be replaced."
"Were any other items taken?"
"Maybe--but I'm not sure." Leonard leaned forward, pulled in a deep cloud of smoke and blew it out. "I believe we were such easy pickings but they'll be back. That's the reason I want some kind of listening device...if I can identify the theieves, maybe I can bargain for the return of the manuscript."
"I can install mini high-sensitive microphones with a range of up to eight feet," Frank said. "It's a voice-activated system."
Leonard pursed his lips. "Okay--but I don't want anyone to know, not even my wife.
You see we live upstairs and ifshe found out we were robbed...well, she would want us to move."
"No problem. The package comes with a receiver and a set of headphones. It's portable.
You can set it up anywhere. When activated, the system will buzz or ring."
"Great," Leonard said, smiling broadly. "When can you get started?"
DAPHNE SMILED SADLY. "I didn't want to have to be the on to tell you this--but I think you need to know."
"What are you talking about now?" Veronica said resignedly.
"Well, I've heard Leonard dropped a bunde at Tunica--maybe even lost the bookstore."
"Come on, that's ridiculous," Veronica said stubbornly. "Where did you hear such nonsense?"
"I heard it from reliable source--but I would rather not say from whom.?
Veronica stated at Daphne for a long moment. "If you think for one minute that Leonard would kill me to pay off a debt because he dropped some cash at a casino--your dead wrong."
Veronica absentmindedly turned the warm cup in her hand. Leonard's obsessive-compulsive disorder was the family secret. He almost drove her crazy washing his hands hundreds of times a day and adhering to such a rigid life. To he coulc not leave the house unless he had checked the stove several times to make sure it was off. She fought a major battle with his male pride him too acknowledge his abnormal behavior and then it took some convincing to get him to agree to visit a doctor. Her fear now was that his medication had stopped working, or he had stopped taking it, but she had not witnessed any major compulsive behavior.
Doubt nibbled at the edge of her mind. What if she did not know the man she married. Was she living with a complet stranger? No, after five years of intimacy that was just insane. She mentally chatised herself for being so ridiculous.
Still, doubt returned with a stronger voice. Leonard had been coming home late with explanations that were always vague and lame. Lately, there had been two unexplained business trips several days in length. The blood drained from her face. The book on poisons beneath his side of he bed annoyed her. Now she wondered why.
Were they in serious financial trouble? Veronica remebered how upset Leonard had been the last time he paid the monthly bills. She had put the incident from her mind until now.
Three weeks ago on a Monday night, Veronica stood outside Leonard's office holding a cup of tea. She could hear him pounding the calculator. She peeked around the doorframe. He slumped behind the desk, sweat beading his pale features. Leonard did not look up when she entered. He maintained his diligent punding of the keys. Calculator tape streamed like runaway confetti growing into a white heap rolling over the side of the desk.
Veronica placed the cup of tea on a coaster and smiled at Leonard as he glanced up, but he did not smile back.
Whap! Leonard slammed his fist down hard on the desk. Veronica jumped reflexively away from the noice.
"What's the matter with you? he said angrily. "Do you think I'm printing money in the basement?"
Veronica was so shocked by this sudden outburst she could not speak.
"There's over eight hundred dollars on the credit card charged last month. A hundred and fifty on perfume."
"I've always charged..." she tried to explain.
Leonard jumped from his chair, picked up the calculator and threw it. It exploded against the wall.
"Not anymore," Leonard spoke quietly, his tone serious.
"Veronica!" The insistent voice of Daphne penetrated her consciousness and pulled her from her reverie.
While recalling these events, Veronica had crossed the hardwood floor, propped against the wall nd stared out te window. A warm breeze whipped the white sheers and blw her dark hair into her eyes. In the distance, the racket of traffic along Elvis Presley boulevard reverberated through open window.
"Really, Veronica--look me in the eye and tell me you're not just a little suspicious."
Veronica turned form the window and absentmindedly began picking at her fingernails.
"Why don't you take up something like knitting instead of amateur sleuthing?"
Daphne reached into her purse and pulled out a stainless steel .38 caliber Lady Smith.
"I want you to take this for protection," she advised.
"A gun!" Veronica cried, horrified.
"Yes,. A gun, Daphne parroted.
