The Women on Retford Drive, page 30
part #1 of Dancing Hills Series
“No we didn’t,” Jorge says, his eyes traveling over the mess on the living room floor. “Carla found the knife.”
“I discovered it the night my mother and I stayed here. It was in the box labeled books. When you left, you said I could go in the box and get whatever I wanted. That’s when I saw the knife. I almost screamed, but I didn’t want to wake up my mother. So I picked it up with a towel, put it in the plastic bag, and hid it under the carpet over there. It has a loose part you can lift up.” She points to a corner of the room. “When we left in the morning, I hid it under my shirt. I had part of it in my waistband, so it wouldn’t fall out. When I got home, I found another hiding place.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about the knife, Carla?” I ask.
“Because I was afraid it would get lost, like the shirt, and that my father would get ahold of it. I felt I could keep it safe.”
“We have to give it to Stephen, to turn it over to the police. He and Julia are on their way here,” I say.
“What if Julia’s fingerprints are on it?” Carla asks.
“They won’t be,” I say.
“How do you know?” Jorge asks.
“Because Julia didn’t kill Keith,” Shelbie says.
“Then who did?” Carla asks.
“We think Sherry did,” I say, and Jorge’s and Carla’s eyes widen.
We turn toward the door at the sound of knocking. “That was fast,” Shelbie says.
I open the door, expecting to see Julia and Stephen, but instead lock eyes with John. “Hey, Blythe. I saw the light on in the window, and I thought I’d stop by. I saw Julia on the news.”
“She bailed out.”
“What’s up?” he asks, stretching his neck to look over my shoulder. “I told you I’m nosy.”
“Come on in.”
He enters, and his mouth drops when he spots the bloody knife. “WTF—where’d that come from?”
“I found it,” Carla says, sticking out her pubescent chest.
“That’s the murder weapon? Damn, I mean, dang,” John says, eyeing Carla. “It still has blood on it. So who killed your father?”
“I think my mother’s agent killed him.”
“Shut up,” John says, shaking his head.
“We just have to prove it,” I say.
“What all do you know about how the murder went down?” he asks.
“It was between 6 p.m. and 8 p.m., and he was killed with that knife,” I say.
“And wrapped in a red blanket,” Shelbie says.
“We think she had him in the trunk of her car. She probably buried him somewhere,” I add.
John scratches his head and walks from one side of the room to the other. “I have an idea.”
“What?” I ask, riveted to his every movement.
“The agent doesn’t know me, and she’s never seen me. I could call her and tell her I know what she did. I wouldn’t say it exactly like that, but I would be sinister sounding. I’d be threatening. Like I would say, ‘I know you killed Keith Pritchard. I saw you with the body and the red blanket. I have pictures.’ Then I would see how she responds. If she hangs up, then she probably didn’t do it. If she hesitates, then she’s probably guilty.”
“She’s going to want to know how you got her number,” I say.
“I’ll just ignore that. If she’s guilty, that’s going to be her last concern. She’ll probably say, ‘What do you want?’ And assume I want to blackmail her. I’ll tell her I want to meet. When we do, I’ll get her to confess. I’ll record her.”
“This sounds familiar,” I say.
“What?” John asks.
“Julia tried that on my mother.”
“It could work this time, if we get the police involved,” Shelbie says.
“The police involved with what?” Julia asks, entering the apartment, followed by Stephen.
“We’ve got a full house,” Stephen says, counting heads.
“Where’s the big surprise?” Julia asks.
We point to the knife on the kitchen counter. Stephen and Julia stare at it. “Who found it?” Stephen asks.
“I did,” Carla says, brimming with pride.
“Did you touch it?” Stephen asks.
“No. I knew better.”
The room is suddenly filled with the sound of text messages. We all reach for our phones. “It’s an Amber Alert. Green Honda …,” I say. “Jorge, did you take your mother’s car?”
“We had to get the knife to you.”
“You did well,” Julia says, “but your mother has reported Carla missing. You need to take her home.”
“But I don’t want to go. I want to be part of the sting,” Carla says, bouncing off the walls.
“What sting?” Stephen asks.
I go to Julia and put my hands on her shoulders. “Julia, Mother, I love you. I don’t want to upset you, but we know who killed my father.”
“Who?”
“Sherry.”
She backs away from me, shaking her head, tears filling her eyes. “No way. That’s not true.”
“It is. We’ve pieced it together,” I say. “Come here.” I drag her to the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” she asks, jerking away from me.
“What’s that smell?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I smelled it when Stephen and I were here looking for the knife.”
“Sniff and think,” I urge. “Over there on the side of the toilet.”
She does so and says, “It smells like vomit.”
“Right. And there are remnants of it on the floor next to the toilet. And who has been throwing up nonstop?”
“Sherry,” she says, her voice just above a whisper.
“She broke into the apartment to look for the knife. In a panic, after she killed my father, she stashed it in the box labeled books. That’s where Carla found it. Sherry stuffed the shirt between the washer and dryer. She has a busted taillight. My father was in her trunk. He broke the taillight, trying to escape. The ‘S-H-E’ in the note wasn’t a pronoun. My father was trying to write S-H-E-R-R-Y, but he probably didn’t have the energy to write her entire name. The red blanket is missing. She probably wrapped him in that and dragged him down the stairs. She speaks German; the guy at the store was confused about the hair color. At first, he said brown. She has brown hair. It’s Sherry.”
“But why would she kill Keith?”
“Because she was having an affair with him, and she’s carrying his child. I believe she told him about it Tuesday night, he denied it and her, and she lost it.”
Julia stumbles backward and Stephen catches her as she slides to the floor, staring into space, trying to wrap her mind around what I’ve told her.
“But she’s been by my side, helping us, working with us to figure this thing out.”
“It’s her, Julia,” I say.
“And I’m going to get her to confess,” John says.
Stephen knits his brows. “And how do you plan to do that?”
“We were going over it right before you got here,” John says.
“Well, the first thing we’re going to do is call the police,” Stephen looks at each of us pointedly. “Their CSI team will check out the DNA in the bathroom and on the knife. Then we can talk about your little sting operation.”
Chapter 42
Attorney Stephen Miller
Outside of Julia’s apartment building, we walk toward the curb when Detectives Johnson and Carson pull up, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Several unmarked police cars and black-and-whites accompany them. All the officers and detectives emerge from their vehicles. The sound of crackling police radios and law enforcement chatter reverberate through the air. I momentarily chuckle to myself, thinking about how happy I am to see them when earlier today the sight of them made me ill.
I start to fill them in on the latest, but Detective Johnson stops me. “Not out here. Inside.” He ushers us into the building.
“Is there a manager on the premises?” Detective Carson asks. “We need to set-up a command post.”
“The manager is out of town, but there’s a tenant you can talk to,” Julia says. “He’s in our apartment.”
The same tall guy with red hair that was at the house approaches. “Julia and Stephen, I’m Chris. I’m the head of the CSI team. Do you have the knife?”’
“It’s upstairs in a plastic bag,” I say.
“Great. And you mentioned there’s DNA in the bathroom.”
“Yes. We’ve kept everyone out. We’ve been using the neighbor’s bathroom,” I say.
“Good job,” he says.
Julia and I lead them to the apartment. We enter, and John, Shelbie, and Blythe point to the knife on the kitchen countertop. Chris picks it up and peers at it through the bag. “I think we’ve found our smoking gun,” he says and smiles.
I turn toward John. “John, the police need a place to set up their operation. Are there any empty apartments in the building?”
“Yeah, there’s a couple.” He scratches his head.
“Is there one close to this one?” Detective Johnson asks.
“Two doors down,” John says.
“Do you have a key?” I ask.
“Not on me. Back at my place. I can get it. The manager leaves me in charge while she’s on vacation.”
“Well, get us in there, please,” Detective Johnson says.
He and the other officers follow John, while Chris and a few of his team members take over the bathroom. Shelbie and Blythe stand in the corner, leaning on each other, their eyes darting from one person to the other. Thankfully, Jorge had obeyed Julia’s request and taken Carla home. Those children didn’t need to be caught up in this mess.
“Are you guys okay?” I ask, joining them.
“It’s like being in a movie,” Shelbie says. “This is so surreal.”
“I’m okay. I just hope that the plan works,” Blythe says.
“The police are experts at this kind of thing,” I say. “I think you’re right about Sherry. I’m not happy about it, but justice has to be served.”
I leave Blythe and Sherry and check on Julia. “How are you holding up?”
“I need some air.”
“Let’s go outside.”
We go downstairs, and I hold the door for her. We sit on the stoop, looking out into the darkness. “What are you thinking?” I ask.
“I’m thinking about Sherry and how desperate she must have been to have gotten involved with Keith. I failed her.”
“How did you fail her?”
“I wasn’t there for her after Larry cheated on her. I was so caught up in my own drama with Keith, I didn’t notice how messed up she was. If I had been there, she never would have gotten with Keith.”
“You can’t believe that. Sherry is a grown woman. She made bad choices, and you can’t blame yourself for that.”
“What will happen to her?”
“She’s going to have her day in court. Just focus on the fact that you’ll never have to spend another day behind bars. The charges are going to be dropped.”
She looks up at me with a faint smile. “I’m glad you have faith in the justice system.”
“I have faith in you—faith that you’re a good person who deserves a better life than the one you’ve had.”
“You’re a good person too, Stephen.”
“Julia, Stephen—the police are about to call Sherry.”
“Thanks, Blythe,” we say, going back inside.
Chapter 43
Julia
I watch uniformed officers trekking up and down our apartment building stairs. Inside the empty apartment two doors down from ours, Detectives Johnson and Carson consult with the CSI head. Blythe and Shelbie watch the detectives put a wire on an undercover officer. Stephen sits next to me, holding my hand, trying to console me. I repel images of Sherry’s smiling face. I cringe remembering the touch of her caring hands. How could she have betrayed me? My eyes burn with tears when I flash back to the conversation the undercover officer had with Sherry over an hour ago.
“Hello?” Sherry said, her voice groggy and hesitant.
“I know what you did.”
“Who is this?” she asked, suddenly alert. “How did you get my number?”
“I saw you Tuesday night. I saw what you did.”
Terrified silence, then, “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about what you did to Keith Pritchard. It’s sad how you wrapped him in that red blanket and buried him. I think I might want to tell the police where you put his body.”
The apartment was full of police and investigators, but it was so quiet we could hear the refrigerator humming.
“What do you want? Do you want money?”
My heart sank to the floor upon hearing her query.
“I want to meet you. Then we can talk about the money.”
“Where?”
“The burial site.”
“Do you live near Hollis Park?”
“Don’t worry about where I live. Just be there at midnight.”
“I’ll meet you at the playground.”
At that point Detective Johnson told him to hang up.
It took everything in me not to scream. She must have been desperate. I still wonder why she left the car at the strip mall near my mother’s nursing home. I hope to receive an answer to that and a lot of other questions.
“It’s almost over, Julia,” Stephen says.
“I just want it to be over now.”
“Okay, everyone, we’re moving out,” Detective Johnson says.
I watch the parade of law enforcement go by, and I reach out to Detective Johnson when he passes me. “Please don’t hurt her.”
“Ma’am, our only goal here is to get justice for your husband.”
“Do you ladies want to ride with me?” Stephen asks.
“We have our cars, but I’d feel better with all of us going together,” Blythe says.
“Blythe, did Jorge and Carla make it home?” I ask.
“Yes. They’re home. Carla is still bummed out she wasn’t allowed to stay.”
“We’ll have to do something special for her,” I say.
~~~
It’s 12:30 a.m., and Sherry was supposed to have arrived here at midnight. The undercover officer emerges from the unmarked police car and sits on the edge of the slide, craning his neck and shrugging his shoulders. If she doesn’t show up, the police are certain that, if she did kill Keith, they’ll be able to confirm through DNA and fingerprints. Sherry gave a DNA sample and had her fingerprints taken when she was questioned. She must have been confident that she wouldn’t be found out. Everything has been sent to the lab for a rush analysis.
“It doesn’t look like she’s going to show up,” Shelbie says from the backseat.
“That would be messed up,” Blythe says, sitting next to her.
“Whose phone is vibrating?” Stephen asks.
“Mine,” I say. “Oh my god, it’s Sherry.”
Blythe and Shelbie gasp, and I thrust the phone toward Stephen, not knowing what to do.
“Answer and put it on speaker,” he says.
“Hello? Sherry?”
“This isn’t Sherry.”
“Larry, I thought you were Sherry calling.”
“Sherry is dead, Julia,” he says, bursting into tears.
“She’s what?”
“She shot herself. I just got home, and I found her in the bedroom. I’ve called the police. There’s an envelope here with your name on it. Why would she do this, Julia? My god.”
Crying uncontrollably, I hand Stephen the phone.
“Larry, this is Julia’s attorney. We’re on our way there. Have the police wait. Tell them we’ll be coming there with Detectives Johnson and Carson from the Dancing Hills Police Department.”
“All right,” he says through sobs.
Stephen drags his hands over his face, seemingly overwhelmed by our hysterical crying. He gets out of the car and approaches the detectives.
We caravan to Sherry’s house. The ride is silent except for Blythe, Shelbie, and me sniffling. Maybe it was a mistake to have cornered her. Maybe it would have been better to have waited for the lab test results. Then the police could have made a surprise arrest. She wouldn’t have had a chance to take her own life. But knowing Sherry, she never would’ve wanted to live behind bars. She’d rather be dead. So maybe it was all for the best.
I don’t know how I’m going to face Larry, and I’m not sure I want to read the note. Once I read whatever she has written, I’ll have to live with her words the rest of my life. Maybe I shouldn’t read it. Based on her response to the undercover officer, it’s safe to assume Keith is buried at Hollis Park. Perhaps her letter will reveal the location.
I’m grateful this nightmare is coming to an end, but sad that my best friend’s life also has come to an end.
Chapter 44
Blythe
From the backseat of Stephen’s car, I hand Julia a tissue out of the box on the floor. Shelbie and I have almost emptied the box. The last thing I expected was for Sherry to kill herself. Guilt weighs me down. I was the one who figured out everything, and now I wish I hadn’t. I wish I had been wrong like Julia had been wrong about Martha, me, and Mary. Stephen has told me I did nothing wrong, and that Sherry is to blame for her poor choices—she and my father are to blame. I’m sure he’s right, but it’s going to take some time for me to get over this.
“It’s not your fault,” Shelbie says, patting my leg.
“You don’t have to go with us to Sherry’s. You’ve done enough. Why don’t you let Stephen take you home? We can pick up your car from the apartment tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to be able to sleep, Blythe. I’m wired. Besides, you need me right now.”
“You’re right. I do.” I hug her.
I tap Julia’s shoulder, and she reaches over the seat and pats my hand. “We’re going to get through this,” she says.
We arrive at Sherry’s house, and the police, investigators, and Stephen double-park. Larry, his hair protruding every direction, is standing in the front yard. The CSI team rushes into the house. We get out of the car, and Larry runs to Julia. He clings onto her so tight I can see her wrestling to get free. Shelbie and I walk over and rubs his shoulders.
