Taking her silence as a no, he continued on with some other facts they'd discovered and what the steps the investigation would involve. "In light of the uhm- circumstances," he drew the word out for explicit emphasis, "I would suggest you have your lawyer contact your husband, Mrs. Maxwell."
Constable Wren rejoined them, reporting that the alert had gone out for Maxwell's car. She arrived in time to hear her partner's advice.
Arlene saw immediately what he meant and the sly, almost pleasurable stare from his ugly companion confirmed it. Gerald and Zeena were sharing a room at the hotel and got caught because of the attack. If her own infidelity came out right now both their reputations would be shattered and Gerald's company would be looking to cut their losses. Scandals were an assured death on the stock market. She cursed Gerald under her breath and almost accepted that he deserved what he got. Almost... Arlene... I love you.
"It's a terrible thing and I'm sorry to be the one to bring you this news." The Sergeant was saying and she shook her head and focused on his serious face.
"I understand. I mean I don't understand any of it but..."
"See to a lawyer, Mrs. Maxwell." Both police officers stood and waited for her to follow. "You should be able to visit him later today. Again, I'm sorry for this news."
Arlene saw them to the door and let them out, leaning shakily on it as it closed.
"Are they gone?" The hoarse whisper echoed down the stairway.
"Yes... luckily, you ass." She gathered her robe about her and went back upstairs.
"What did they want?" John was wearing only his pants, no shirt or shoes as though he expected to resume right where they left off.
"Gerald was attacked in his hotel room."
"By Zeena I bet." He gave a hoot as he followed her to the bedroom.
"No, you idiot! He was beaten up and Zeena was raped." I have to do some serious thinking here. Get dressed and I'll call you later."
"Jesus, Arlene, that's terrible." He pulled on his shirt and sat on the bed to put on his shoes and socks. "Did they catch the guy?"
"Not yet, but they know who it was. He's the same man that robbed the diner and stole Gerald's wallet."
"No shit! Wow, what a coincidence, eh?"
She gave him a weary look and shook her hand. "Hurry up, I have things I need to do."
"So you'll call?" He tucked in his shirt and grabbed his jacket.
"Yes, John."
"Any idea when?"
"For Christ's sake! My husband is in hospital after a savage beating and you want a drop-in schedule?"
Chastened, John nodded, kissed her cheek and fled down the stairs.
******
Ted made his trip down to the station feeling like it was his new, every day program. Sitting across from another policeman who found typing more of a challenge than crime fighting, he wondered when they would tumble to his involvement in the diner robbery where Nadine was killed. The typing concluded and Ted scanned the overcorrected page and signed his name then stood to leave. Across the room he saw Constable Wren directing her tiny evil eye toward him. He actually felt a goose bump and took a hasty leave.
Curtis Martin lived in an apartment about ten minutes from the police station and Ted cruised to a halt just down the block from the address and shut off the car's engine. The street wasn't busy except for an elderly man walking a living tumbleweed that turned out to be some kind of terrier, Ted realized, as they passed by his car. He wondered whether to wait and watch or go right up and ring the bell.
Who was Curtis Martin and what was he planning on asking him anyway? He decided to sit a bit and see what, if anything, turned up. He really didn't have any other plan. While he was struggling with his quandary, the apartment garage door opened and a car bounced out over the sidewalk and turned down the road. Ted sat bolt upright and banged the steering wheel. The passenger registered in his mind against the template for Gabe's female accomplice and he started his car and took off after them. It was her, he was sure!
******
Gabe smiled and thanked whatever God provided this latest piece of luck. After sitting slumped down for an hour or so in the stolen BMW on a weed covered lot, behind the wreck of an old house trailer that was rotting on blocks, he finally got lucky. Calculating the odds of being discovered before getting to Sandra, he had been about to charge into the apartment and wreak a little havoc on she and Curtis when Curtis's car suddenly left the garage.
Then just as suddenly, another car pulled out from the curb and sped after it. He caught another glimpse of the face he'd seen in the hotel and finally it clicked. It was the man from the diner where he killed the waitress. How very interesting. What was this guy doing following Curtis... or was it Sandra? And why? He put the BMW in gear and smoothly gunned the powerful car after the other two.
Curtis followed the road that led to the estates in the community of Treestock Hills; his total focus was on getting there and figuring out what Sandra had in mind. He failed to notice the Toyota keeping pace a few hundred yards back. Curtis kept a directory in his car along with various maps, a dictionary and a hotel guide for the Province. Sandra looked up the Maxwell's address and after several detours and slow cruising they found it on Bunny Walk; all the streets in the estate had names of the wood's inhabitants, Curtis thought it kind of cute. Sandra gagged.
He pulled all the way up the long drive and stopped just short of the double garage doors.
"Now what?"
Sandra didn't actually know now that they were there. It had sounded good but what had she thought they could do? She tossed around a number of crazy options and then sank back in the seat.
"I don't have a clue, Curtis. Sorry."
"Hey, we had our look. It probably bought us some time from Gabe and—" He stopped abruptly and ducked down. "Somebody just came out," he hissed.
She peered over the dash and saw a young man fast stepping to a small car parked close to the bushes on the far side of the house. As she watched she saw him adjusting his clothes and checking his hair in the side mirror and Sandra let out a small giggle.
"What? What's funny?" Curtis peered out as well, his head bobbing all around.
"I think we just found a place to stay for a while, Curtis." She opened the glove box and took out the gun he'd insisted on bringing.
"What are you doing? Put that back!" He grabbed at her arm but she was out of the car and jogging across the drive to the other car.
John looked up at the woman with the bruised face smiling with ugly satisfaction in his window and then at the large barrel of the gun resting against the glass. Sandra beckoned him out of the car with the gun and stepped back as he complied.
"Who are you? What do you want? I have no money."
"I could lend you a few bucks," she cooed sarcastically, waving him toward the house. Curtis was hopping from foot to foot by the garage and he darted forward as they neared.
"What are you doing?" He managed to ask without moving his lips.
"We're going inside to have a visit." She prodded John up the front step and told him to go in. Curtis danced along beside, arms flapping like a grounded gull.
"It's locked."
"Ring the bell then." He did.
The door opened and Arlene began to berate him when she noticed Curtis and Sandra... and the gun. She backed away as they strolled inside, her eyes flitting from one to the other.
"Who are you? What do you want? John?"
Sandra laughed. "He asked exactly the same thing. Extraordinary."
"Well?" Arlene seemed to have regained a little composure.
"Well indeed, Mrs. Maxwell." Sandra gave John an exaggerated look and then raised her eyebrows at Arlene. "Afternoon delight?"
Arlene's ears reddened and she shot John a dirty look as if his tardy departure had created the embarrassment. "I don't know what—"
"Save it. Let's go somewhere more comfortable." She waved the gun and they all moved quickly to the vast living room. Curtis stood with his mouth open at the seemingly casual display of such wealth. Framed water colours by noted artists, statuary and ceramics of museum quality and furniture crafted by masters.
No stapled backs on these items, he mentally salivated. Arlene went directly to an elegant high-backed chair with floral upholstery and sat, legs crossed. She still wore her robe and it slithered off her thigh giving them all a brief glimpse of firm, tanned skin. The rest chose the matching sofa and Curtis, when he finished his tour of the room, found a large, white leather hassock by the fireplace.
"Now can we know what this is all about?" Arlene said acidly.