Discarded Promises Read online

  “I don’t have anything to worry about. As long as you keep your mouth shut.”

  “He won’t find out from me. But Tom and Edward are friends. I’m sure Edward knows Tom’s habits.”

  “Listen, you better leave before someone sees you talking to me. I don’t want it to get back to Tom.”

  Quilla studied her for a moment, then she nodded. “If you need someone to talk to, just call me. You have my number.”

  “Okay, okay. Just go.”

  Denton was working late again. So was Tom. Wendy had left around noon. Denton got the feeling things weren’t right in Wendy and Tom’s camp. Probably because she was working. Denton was hoping Tom would leave so he could get a look around when suddenly he heard a shrill scream and something crash in an office.

  He hopped out of his seat and ran down the hall to investigate. Wendy was hurling files, vases, lamps—anything she could get her hands on at Tom.

  “Hey! What’s going on?” Denton shouted. He worked closely with Wendy and they got along pretty well. He’d never imagined this furious side of her.

  “You son of a bitch!” she said and hurled a lamp at Tom’s ducking head. He’d slumped down behind the desk. A book bounced off his back and hit the floor with a thump.

  “Listen, I can explain,” Tom said, peeping over the top of the desk.

  “There isn’t a justification for what you did. You’re as low as a snake and I want you out of here. You’re as sleazy as your sick friends. I should have known.”

  When Wendy picked up a chair, Denton took it from her and set it aside.

  “Calm down, and talk about it,” he said. For a moment he thought she was going to light into him.

  Her breath heaved from the exertion. She was inhaling and exhaling great gulps of air. “Talk? I’ll talk this chair up against his head.” She shot a malevolent gaze at Tom. “Get out! You’ve got just enough time to get home and pack your bags and get out of the house. If your junk isn’t gone by the time I get home, I’m burning everything in sight.”

  “Wendy . . .” Tom started.

  “Shut up. You can’t talk with anything except what’s in your pants. And let me tell you, it isn’t as great as you think it is. Get out!”

  “You know what? You’re a sick bitch. You got that boy wrapped around your finger. What did he do? Go crying to his mama?”

  “No, Tom, he didn’t. I overheard a conversation he had with one of his friends. He was bragging about it. Bragging about the sick . . . Get out, Tom. You’re nothing but filth. And I can’t stand the sight of you.”

  Tom puffed up his shoulders as if to say, “That’s my boy.”

  “Get out. I don’t want to see your face again.”

  Looking at Denton for help, Tom slowly straightened and skirted the desk, keeping a watchful eye on Wendy. He slipped out the door, his footsteps retreating quickly down the hall. As soon as the outer door closed, Wendy seemed to deflate.

  Denton led her out of Tom’s office, into his, and guided her to a seat. She flopped down like a wounded fish. He pulled up a chair and sat beside her. He’d never seen her with a strand of hair out of place or skewed makeup. Now her hair was a tangled mess around her head. She didn’t give a thought to pulling a comb through the tangles.

  “You want to talk about it?” Denton asked quietly.

  A flash of wild grief ripped through her. Denton knew that whatever she was going to say wasn’t pretty.

  She sighed, clasped her hands together, and stared at them. “He took my son to his mistress,” she said thickly. She lifted her eyes to him. “Can you believe that SOB? My son’s first sexual experience was with my husband’s mistress. Not another teenager he’d fallen in love with—you know, that young puppy love, where they’re fumbling around unsure and nervous, but a memorable occasion because of it. But he takes him to an experienced whore who didn’t give a damn about him.”

  Left with nothing else to do, Denton patted her hand. Damn. Tom was lower than he thought.

  “What kind of man does that? What the heck was running through his mind?” She stopped short in dismay. “I suspected something was wrong. Nothing I did was right or good enough for Tom. He’s been needling me unmercifully since I started working here. And you know what’s really funny? I just found out she was that woman who died. I buy clothes at the same shops where she shops, with my husband’s money that he makes from my family’s business. I even shop at the same dog treat shop she shopped at.”

  Once she started, it seemed Wendy couldn’t be stopped. “He set her up to manage the apartment building my family owns, that’s been in my family since the early 1900s. Everything he has came from my family. I wanted to run that apartment building, but he said no. He wanted me at home for Randall. ‘Teenage boys get into mischief,’ he said. With my being home, I’d have more time for him, more time to keep up with what Randall was doing.” A look of tired sadness passed across her face. “They were all excuses. Excuses so he could play me the fool.”

  “I’m sorry, Wendy. You deserve better. Let me get you a drink. I think we have something around here. Give me a minute?”

  Wendy merely sighed.

  As Denton left the office, he pulled out his cell phone and called Jake, telling him to stay with Quilla until he could get there. Then he searched around in Tom’s office for a bottle of expensive liquor he always kept handy. Grabbing a glass, he selected an unopened bottle and returned to his office.

  Wendy had more to get off her chest, and Denton poured the drink and handed it to her.

  “I asked Daddy to let me participate in running the company. I’ve worked here since high school. I used to come down here and sit in his chair. I started at the bottom. In college I worked during summer and Christmas vacations. I even worked here three years after I graduated, until I married Tom, a man my father heartily approved of. I don’t think I ever really loved Tom. And I don’t think he loved me either. But he was a top salesman and Daddy thought he was going places. Thought he’d be the perfect husband for me. I liked him. He was handsome and kind. I thought I could fall in love with him eventually. So I married him. Tom can talk the birds out of the trees. He was a fantastic salesman. Before I knew it I was home and pregnant. Exactly where he wanted me.”

  There was nothing for Denton to say. They both knew Tom was a piece of scum.

  “And he takes my son to a hooker to be introduced to sex. What kind of father does that? What kind of man did I marry? I don’t think I know him anymore, if I ever did.” She took another sip.

  This could take awhile, Denton thought.

  “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”

  Wendy talked on and on. Each time Denton tried to urge her to let him take her home, she’d start another story.

  “You know my dad is from Alabama?”

  “Your father mentioned it the night of the party.”

  “He was from dirt-poor Alabama. World War II got my grandfather out. After he came home after the war, he hitchhiked across the country. He met my grandmother in Omaha. But my mother’s father wouldn’t let him marry her. Grandpa didn’t have a job, no future. He traveled for two years. Stopped now and then to work to make enough money to move on.” Her speech was peppered with sips of drink.

  “Then he signed up for the Army again. And he married my grandmother just before he shipped out for the Korean War. He was a career soldier and he got to see the world the way he wanted to.” Another sip. “The Pentagon was his last tour of duty. When he got out, he started this business. My dad was just beginning college and when he graduated, he came to work for his father. And he worked there until he retired. He never had a son to pick up the reins.”

  “He has a daughter,” Denton said.

  She sipped again, then looked at him. “You ever been married, Denton?”

  Denton needed a drink himself. “Once. Divorced now.”

  She squinted her eyes at him. “I can’t see you backstabbing your wife.”

  “She cla
imed I was married to my work and felt like she was just my mistress.

  “Is that all?”

  “For some women, it’s enough.”

  “Wait until they have the real thing. Then see how she feels. The word has spread that you’re seeing Quilla now.”

  Denton nodded.

  “You had to know Sadie, since you live in the apartment building. What did she have that I don’t?”

  “It had nothing to do with you. Tom’s an ass.”

  “Here, here.” She raised her drink before she sipped again. Her voice was slurring.

  Denton wondered if perhaps he should stop pouring it for her. She’d had enough. He knew the drink was talking because in her right mind she never would have doubted herself. One thing she’d been taught was that she was at the top of the heap.

  He wouldn’t tell her of Sadie’s innocence and sweetness. Wendy was a good woman, too. They were just . . . different.

  “You’re a good woman, Wendy. It wasn’t you.” Denton wondered if Sadie had considered the effect these affairs had on the man’s wife and kids. But her profession was as old as time. As long as men wanted them, women like Sadie would be available for them.

  While Quilla waited for Denton to arrive, she dialed the jewelry store and asked to speak to Paul. She waited at least five minutes before he came on the line. What Trait had said about the diamond disturbed her.

  “Did you find the diamond?” he asked.

  “I haven’t but the police have. The diamond in Sadie’s possession is similar to the one that was stolen in one of the local jewelry robberies,” she said.

  “Not the one I gave her to advertise. I have the authentic papers for it.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t the same one?”

  “Sometimes more than one piece is made similarly. We try to be authentic in our selections. Women don’t like to see their pieces worn by friends. We’re very careful with that.”

  “The police have it. Detective Wilson asked me about it. You might want to go down to the station to take a look and speak to them about the piece that you gave Sadie to wear so it doesn’t become part of her estate. You have the paperwork declaring you the owner, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  When the key turned in the lock, Quilla couldn’t believe how eager she was to see Denton. But the smiling face that presented itself was Jake.

  “Well, I hope you find it. The ring sounds expensive.” She disconnected. “Where’s Denton?”

  “You’re the lucky one this evening,” Jake said. “You get to spend it with me.”

  “Wow.”

  He sniffed the air. “It smells like dinner is served.”

  “At your service,” Quilla said. He’d really grown up to be a fun guy. He’d lift the spirits of some young woman one day.

  “How late will Denton be?” she asked. She had set out candles for a romantic dinner.

  Gallantly he pulled out the chair for her, then lit the candles. “He might be awhile. But Denton’s loss is my reward,” Jake said. “Smells and looks delicious. Did you prepare this with your bad arm?”

  “Delivery. An invention for the modern woman.”

  “Smart woman.”

  “Where’s Denton?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Working.”

  “Doing what?” had slipped out before she could stop herself. She knew better than to ask. She didn’t have a need to know, but she’d felt compelled to ask anyway.

  Jake shook his head. “He’ll be in before long.”

  But they ate dinner, they stacked the dishes in the dishwasher, and they watched the news, and Denton still hadn’t shown up.

  Around eight-thirty Jake was called out. “Denton will be here soon. You’ll be safe as long as you don’t leave the apartment. And don’t answer the door. Denton and I have keys.”

  “Go, go. I’ll be fine.”

  Jake grabbed his coat and he was gone.

  Quilla settled down to watch a movie when her cell phone rang. It was Hattie. Quilla’s first thought was she wasn’t supposed to leave the apartment, but Hattie lived in the building. She was safe as long as she didn’t leave the building, which was why Denton insisted she stay there.

  Leaving a note on the table, Quilla found a spare key and dashed down the hall. Hattie was hanging out the door when she reached her apartment.

  “I thought we could brainstorm again. I’ve been thinking about these murders a lot, and I have some new information,” Hattie said as she closed the door behind Quilla. “And Sadie has such a nice family.”

  The bird was hanging on the curtain rod. Newspaper was spread on the floor beneath it. A few droppings had already landed there. Quilla hoped the bird wouldn’t get it in his head to fly over her.

  “You’re a dish,” the bird said.

  “My grandson was here teaching him things again,” Hattie said, shaking her head. “That boy won’t leave well enough alone.”

  The bird let out a long whistle. “You’re a dish with nice hips.”

  “Be quiet, Henry. I had a few friends over here the other day and had to take him in the back room. They were scandalized.”

  Quilla chuckled.

  “I called you over to find out what’s going on with the investigation.”

  “It’s going nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. Lots of speculation, but nothing concrete. What did you discover?”

  “Well, the Jehovah’s Witness lady came by here today. She was telling me she overheard someone talking about Edward. Said he was behind the thefts.”

  “But he owns an old Alexandria jewelry store. And some of those people were his customers.”

  “He doesn’t own it. He manages it. Who knows how prosperous it is?”

  “But to have his customers’ jewels stolen after selling to them?”

  “Diamonds are diamonds. He has it stolen, then set into another piece. He’s a manufacturing jeweler. He takes stones and designs the settings.”

  “I can’t see Edward crawling through anyone’s window. Do you think he hires someone to do it?”

  “Who knows?”

  “I wonder if Detective Wilson knows this?”

  “Who knows?”

  “So you think that person killed Sadie?” Quilla asked. “Seems motive enough to me.”

  “Maybe. You said the jewels were on her when you saw her the first time. Then her body disappeared and the jewels were missing when the police found her.”

  “You’ve got a point, Hattie. I’ve got to get back to the apartment in case Denton calls.”

  “Be careful.”

  “See you later, Hattie.” Quilla dashed out the door. She had just closed it behind her when she felt something in her back and a hand across her mouth and nose. She could barely breathe.

  “Scream and you’re dead,” someone whispered in her ear. Hattie lived next to the emergency exit, and he dragged her the few steps to the door.

  She was dead anyway, Quilla thought. In her fright she realized he had to let her mouth go in order to open the door, but he merely wedged the door open with his shoe. Whatever he’d propped it open with dropped.

  My God. Who was he? Was it the man who had shot her? And why? She couldn’t identify Sadie’s killer.

  The front entrance was street level, but the building was on a hill, and leaving from the emergency exit forced them to walk down a flight of stairs. Muted light shone there, but its exit was in an alley. Although Quilla could hear cars zooming past in the distance, no one could see her. But if this man got her alone, she was sure she was a dead woman. She began to struggle in earnest.

  Quilla had yet to see the man’s face. He was several inches taller than she, and he was breathing heavily as if he were overexerting himself. She knew very well she could end up breaking her neck, but she kicked out at his leg and deliberately fell. He yelled and pitched forward, forcing him to drop the gun to catch himself.

  They both went rolling down the stairs. By the time they landed they were both winded. Qu
illa dragged herself up and tried to crawl away. She didn’t have enough breath to run.

  The attacker got up and limped after her. Quilla used every bit of her strength to stumble along the alley. She kept screaming as loud as she could. It seemed as though it took forever for her to make it to the street. She looked back once. It was Lester, the man who escorted the Jehovah’s Witness woman.

  Finally someone asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Call the police,” Quilla shouted. The one good thing, if there was one, was that this time she knew who it was.

  Quilla’s arm hurt like the very devil. She wasn’t in the mood for Denton’s lecture.

  “Why did you leave the apartment?” he asked.

  Quilla knew she’d have this conversation with Denton. And she’d already answered him once.

  “I didn’t leave the building. I thought I’d be safe here. I only went down the hall to see Hattie,” she explained patiently.

  “It’s my fault. Don’t fuss with her,” Hattie said in Quilla’s defense. She hovered nearby, darting worried glances between them.

  Denton threw a hard look at Hattie. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  “Here’s a cup of tea, dear.” She handed it to Quilla. “This will make you feel better.” Tea seemed to be Hattie’s answer to everything.

  “And to think that all this time that nice man has been coming through here with that nice lady passing out literature, and he wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness at all. I wonder if the young lady was real.”

  “The police are looking into it,” Denton said. “I always thought it was odd seeing a man on the rounds. I should have questioned it.”

  “Well, then, you can’t blame Quilla.”

  Denton didn’t even consider giving the woman’s illogical comment a reply.

  “Where were you?” Quilla asked.

  “I had to work late.”

  “This late?” Hattie asked. “Tom never worked that late.”

  “The two of you wait in here. I’m going around to all the apartments to talk to the neighbors. Don’t leave this room.” Denton slammed out the door. Minutes later, Owen and Jake arrived.