Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine, Volume 13 Read online

  Scooter came over and rubbed up against Dave’s leg. Dave let out a breath and said, “You saved my life, boy, you know that?”

  Scooter mewed.

  “C’mon, Scooter, we have to get out of here.”

  He grabbed Scooter, got Sally’s cat carrier out of the closet, and put Scooter inside. Holding the carrier, Dave cautiously walked outside and back to his car. He stuck Scooter’s carrier on the seat next to him and turned on the car’s ignition.

  Five minutes later, Dave was on the highway heading north. How had they found him? he wondered. He must have done something careless. He’d stayed too long in one place, he’d been spotted by someone, he’d—Sally. Sally. She had just coincidentally gone to visit her poor sick mother in Cleveland. Sally. He’d trusted her. Somehow they’d found him and had bought Sally off, or scared her, and she’d cooperated. Could she have known about what they’d intended to do? Maybe they’d told her they were federal agents, something like that. Anyway, she’d gone along and…Dave noticed Scooter looking out of the window of the cat carrier.

  Scooter’s eyes were big, like he was scared, but he wasn’t mewing. Dave glanced back at the road, then at Scooter again as he saw him pushing his paws through the slats in the carrier It was as if Scooter was in his own little prison, thought Dave, a travelling prison. Dave pressed down on the gas pedal. He wondered where the road would take him and what the next town would be like. Then he realized that it didn’t matter. Even though it all seemed like wide open country, everywhere he looked there were locks and guards and iron bars.

  A COLD PLACE TO DIE, by J. P. Seewald

  “Why must you continue to torture me?”

  “Stop moaning and groaning,” Barbara said.

  Charles Sinclair stared at the gleaming, metal machines that seemed to smile with sadistic delight, enjoying his agony.

  Barbara shook her head at him. “You’re getting worse and worse.” She gripped his arm in a vise-like grip. “Working out at a gym is good for you. You’re getting soft and flabby.” To emphasize her words, Barbara took a hard swipe at his midsection.

  Charles winced. God, she was fast, got him before he even had time to gird himself for the blow.

  “Last time you convinced me to come with you, I was sore for a week.”

  Barbara pursed her lips. “No pain, no gain. Anyway, you just proved my point. It’s because you don’t come often enough that you have such a paunch.”

  “Look, you can come here as often as you want, but I don’t like it. Why can’t we just go for a walk together instead?”

  Barbara tossed her mane of tawny hair and frowned at him. “Jogging’s all right, but you walk too slowly. And you should exercise everyday.”

  Charles snorted, “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m only trying to help you, Charles. I don’t want to see you keel over from a heart attack. It could happen you know. You really don’t take proper care of yourself.” She gave him a pitying look, as if he were some inferior creature. “I’m doing all I can, but you continue to resist.”

  Good Lord, not another lecture! He hated it when she got into nagging mode, all pompous and superior.

  “I don’t like this place,” he said through gritted teeth. “As far as I’m concerned it’s a torture chamber.”

  Barbara sighed dramatically. “This is a first-rate gym. If you spent half as much time working out as you do complaining, you’d be in top shape by now. Why do you resist me on this when I’m doing it for your own good? I don’t expect you to turn into an Adonis overnight, but we could certainly do something about that gut.”

  Charles caved in, saying, “All right, what do you want me to do here?” She was one tough negotiator.

  “Well, since you said you wanted to walk, let’s start you off on the treadmill.”

  It was boring, and he’d much rather be outdoors, walking in the park, but she’d worn him down. As he began working out on the treadmill, Charles thought about the intricacies of his relationship with Barbara.

  From the beginning, she’d done the pursuing. He’d just made partner at Guzman, Garfield, Mackenzie, Barker and Lowe. Everyone was congratulating him. Barbara, an up-and-coming associate, had been particularly warm and friendly. When he came back from lunch, he’d found a red rose placed on his desk with a message: “May your success be as fragrant as this flower.” She’d signed her name with a flourish.

  Several times she came to his office during the next few mornings and asked him some work-related question about a brief or file, nothing she couldn’t have really taken care of herself.

  Barbara was like a force of nature. She was full of vitality and energy, and she was a passionate lover. He’d never known anyone quite like her. Even at the office, the more Barbara did, the more she seemed capable of doing. Charles had to admire her. He actually envied her ambition and determination. Had he ever been as eager to get ahead as she was? He doubted it.

  Marrying Barbara seemed preordained. For a while, they were happy together. But after a few years, it was becoming clear they wanted different things. Charles had grown tired of working twelve hour days, six, sometimes seven days a week. He was pushing forty and getting bored practicing corporate law. He had a respectable investment portfolio, a nice condo, but no real interests beyond his career. He was restless and wanted something more out of life.

  Barbara wanted something more as well. Ambition and drive were a part of her very being. She was eager to rise to a position of power in the firm.

  Charles watched her working out, glistening with perspiration. Stepping down from an elliptical machine, she slowly walked toward him, toweling off.

  “Is that all you’ve done so far, just the treadmill?”

  Twenty minutes had passed, and Charles hadn’t taken the machine beyond its second level setting. He didn’t bother to answer, knowing instinctively that any excuse would just add fuel to her fire.

  “When are you going to let Josh work with you? He’s the best personal trainer in the city.”

  “Anything you approve of is the best,” he observed.

  “When did you get to be so cynical?”

  He shrugged, not eager for a confrontation.

  “Josh could probably fit you in today as a favor to me.”

  “Next time maybe. I’m ready to leave,” he said, annoyance slipping from his tongue.

  “I’m taking a shower first. What about you?”

  “Later, when I get home.”

  She gave him a look of disappointment, then turned and took off toward the locker rooms. He probably wouldn’t need that shower after all. She wasn’t about to have sex with him tonight. Charles wasn’t certain he really cared any more.

  At one time, he found Barbara mysterious. Even after he’d gotten to know her in the biblical sense, he’d never quite comprehended her essence or the demons that drove her. She never talked about her past, her family, even her schooling. But he had learned that what made her tick was the idea of getting ahead. For Barbara, success was an aphrodisiac. It was the only thing that really mattered to her.

  The next morning, Charles approached Guzman’s secretary, determination etched on his face. “Alice, I need to see the boss.”

  “Today? He’s really busy. Has clients all day.”

  “It’ll just be for a minute. I promise.” He gave Alice his friendliest smile.

  She’d always had a soft spot for him. She was a shy, pleasant woman but also a capable, competent legal assistant. If he had dated anyone from the firm, it should have been her. But neither of them would ever have approached the other. Well, it was too late now. Regrets stuck in his throat like a fishbone.

  Alice gave a shy smile and got him the time he needed with Guzman.

  “So what’s so important that it can’t wait?” his boss looked up, one bushy brow cocked inquiringly.

  “I’ve be
en thinking that I want a change of pace. Wondered how you’d feel if I looked into practicing criminal law.”

  Guzman stared at Charles as though he’d just confessed to being an axe murderer. “You know as well as I do all our clients are corporate. That’s what we do here, and it’s where the money is. Are you thinking of leaving us? Has someone made you an offer?”

  “Nothing like that. I just thought I might take on some white collar criminals. Maybe start a new department here at the firm.”

  “I suppose we could discreetly let certain clients become aware that such services have become available,” Guzman conceded. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re the best in bankruptcy.” He frowned. “What does Barbara think about this?”

  “I haven’t discussed it with her yet.”

  “Well, if you don’t mind advice from an older, more experienced man, I’d talk it over with her before you go any further with the plan.” Guzman glanced meaningfully at his gold Rolex. Charles thanked his boss for his time and advice before leaving the office.

  He thanked Alice, who gave him another beatific smile, and returned to his own office feeling better, as though he’d undergone some sort of a catharsis.

  In spite of Guzman’s well-meaning advice, he wasn’t eager to discuss his decision with Barbara. It would likely only lead to another quarrel, something he preferred to avoid.

  He had too much of family feuding in his childhood. By the time his parents finally decided to divorce, he’d actually felt relieved. He couldn’t stand the constant turmoil. He craved a peaceful environment. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for marriage. He’d let Barbara push him into a relationship that wasn’t right for either of them. It was becoming painfully apparent that they weren’t suited. The marriage was becoming torture.

  A few weeks later, both he and Barbara were summoned to Guzman’s office. Guzman, not one to waste a moment of his valuable, billable time, got right to the point. “I have a client who I think you both might want to work with. You’re aware that Williams Industries is one of our corporate clients. Well, Vance Williams has some problems.”

  “Vance Williams, the eccentric heir to millions?” Barbara asked.

  “More like billions,” Guzman said with a wry smile.

  “Is his company moving into bankruptcy?” Barbara’s eyes were dewy with avid interest.

  “Not exactly.” Guzman cleared his throat. “Williams does have some tax issues that he’ll need your help with, Barbara. But he also has another kind of problem. His wife disappeared.”

  “I read something about that in the newspaper,” Charles said.

  “I told Williams you might be able to help him, Charles. It seems the police have been sniffing around.”

  Barbara looked bewildered. “Why would Charles be able to help?”

  Guzman turned to him. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

  “Tell me what?” Barbara asked.

  Charles pulled at his collar and loosened his tie which was feeling like a noose. “I’m looking to take on some criminal work.”

  Barbara took it better than he’d expected, or maybe that was just for Guzman’s benefit. She could be a consummate actress when she chose.

  “Williams will be sending a car to pick you up at two o’clock.”

  Charles stared at Guzman. “He’s not coming to the office?”

  “He rarely leaves that compound of his. Williams is a recluse.”

  As far as Charles was concerned, Williams was just a lunatic who’d inherited a lot of money, but he kept his opinion to himself. “How can Williams run a major company from his house?”

  “He can and does.”

  “He must have been in to see you,” Charles said to Guzman.

  “I’ve mostly dealt with his executives—although he’ll phone personally when he wants something important done, like he did today. Anyway, this is a real opportunity if you want to practice criminal law. You’ll be starting with a big name client.”

  “That’s assuming there is a case.”

  “He sounded edgy on the phone.” Guzman tapped his pen thoughtfully.

  “Imagine meeting an actual billionaire and working for him,” Barbara said.

  That pretty much settled the matter. Arguing with Barbara against the meeting would have been as sensible as standing outdoors during a twister, and not nearly as pleasant.

  They were picked up in style by a foreign-looking driver with black, slicked-back hair driving a black limo. Both the car and driver looked sinister to Charles. Williams’s chauffeur reminded him of a thug.

  Williams’s estate was situated on eighteen acres of prime countryside and provided considerable privacy. A rough-looking character answered the door, someone who looked a lot more like a bouncer or a bodyguard than a butler. The billionaire kept them waiting for quite a while.

  Williams finally entered the large living room. The man was easily in his middle fifties, looking fit and tan, and dressed casually in a knit shirt, jeans, and joggers. The clothing looked to be of the best quality. He definitely did not appear to be a wild eccentric or a doddering recluse. Although Charles had represented some very wealthy, successful people, he’d never before met a billionaire and wasn’t certain what to expect.

  They introduced themselves. Barbara was back to being the charming woman he’d married—and then some. The meal they were served in the cavernous dining room might have been good, but it tasted like sawdust to him because Barbara was busy flirting with Williams right there in front of him. Williams and Barbara did most of the talking.

  After dinner, they discussed legal matters. Barbara took the tax information.

  “I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve crunched some numbers,” she promised in a purring voice.

  “Smart and pretty. You’re a very lucky man,” Williams said.

  “Let’s talk about your wife’s disappearance.”

  “Police detectives came by. Acted like they thought I had something to do with it.”

  “And did you?”

  Williams’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you on my side? If I’m going to retain you, that’s something I have to know.”

  “I just need to get the facts straight. Did you report your wife missing?”

  “No, that would be my wife’s sister.”

  “How long was she gone?”

  “About a month.”

  Charles was surprised. “And you didn’t think to report it?”

  Williams shook his head. “We had an argument. She drove off. Said she was leaving me.”

  “If the police get in touch with you again, tell them you won’t speak without an attorney present. There’s an old saying that a fish can’t be hooked unless it opens its mouth.”

  “Won’t they think I’m hiding something?”

  “They already do. Call me immediately if they contact you again.”

  Williams insisted on giving them a tour of the mansion before they left. Barbara was eager; she looped her hands like tentacles around the rich man’s arm. Williams led them upstairs first. The marble foyer had a grand staircase that divided to two different wings. The place didn’t speak of wealth, it positively shouted out loud. There were more bathrooms than any family would ever need. Downstairs, he led them past an elegant library, billiards room, and glistening kitchen where several servants were working.

  Williams took them down to the basement of his mansion. “What do you think of my wine cellar?”

  Charles looked around. He was no connoisseur, but it seemed Williams clearly was.

  “Now you’ll see my favorite room of all.” Williams opened another door with pride. “It’s all state of the art in here. What do you think?”

  The gleam of steel hurt his eyes and he blinked. Charles felt as if he were back in a gym, a sinister one, what with the black painted walls and br
ight overhead lights.

  “What fabulous exercise equipment!” Barbara enthused.

  Charles shuddered.

  “It’s the best money can buy. I work out here everyday.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Barbara said.

  Charles saw nothing but evil devices of torture. It was cold in the room, very cold.

  “Thanks for the tour and the dinner,” Charles said. “We’ll arrange to set up some meetings.”

  “We’ll come separately,” Barbara quickly interjected, “since we’re dealing with separate legal matters.”

  “That’ll be fine,” Williams said, looking pleased, “and you feel free to use my private gym any time you like.”

  Charles quickly interjected, “Do you think you could come to our office? It would be a much more professional atmosphere.”

  “It’s been getting harder for me to leave this place.”

  “That’s no problem,” Barbara responded with the compassion of Mother Teresa.

  For a time, Charles didn’t hear from Williams. He knew Barbara was going to the estate on a fairly regular basis, but he didn’t bother asking her about it, and she didn’t volunteer any information. Then one day, Barbara stopped by his office in the middle of the morning.

  “Can you visit Vance Williams today?”

  “Awfully short notice.”

  “He needs you. The police are harassing him.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Barbara gave him a tight smile. “His wife’s car turned up in Florida with no sign of her. Pretty strange, huh?”

  “What does Williams have to say?”

  “Nothing at all. The police are kind of suspicious because of that incident when he lived down in Texas.”

  Charles fixed his gaze on Barbara. “What kind of incident?”

  “Oh, just that he accidentally ran over and killed this friend of his.”

  For the next few weeks, Charles heard nothing more from Williams. His communication with Barbara was limited as well. They lived as strangers, rarely speaking. But Charles knew that Barbara was spending a good deal of time out at Williams’s estate. There was more than one night when she didn’t come home at all. Charles was fairly certain the relationship had gone way beyond the bounds of what could be considered professional.