The Three Monkeys, a Carter A. Johnson & Kate Menke Thriller Page 21

  When other women began to take her place, she knew she had been used for her looks and her body. She felt like a fool; she'd become a fool who turned a blind eye to the truth about the man she had fallen for. He was clearly dumbfounded when she announced she'd rented an apartment and was moving out of the mansion. It was obvious he had never contemplated a reaction so drastic. He argued and demanded she stay. She held firm and broke from his domination. He tried to coax her back with a pay raise. She accepted the money but resisted his flirting and uncharacteristically passive behavior. Standing her ground when he threatened deportation was the hardest act she’d ever accomplished. Gradually he backed off and stopped the threats.

  There had been other male friends after that, but all only wanted to use her body. She recalled one she thought respected her intelligence. After they became intimate, he revealed he was married and had no intention of leaving his wife and two daughters.

  At eight forty, she phoned the mansion again. Still no one picked up. With a fresh cup of hot coffee, she regained her booth seat and slipped back into her melancholy mood.

  Two positives came out of the failed relationship with Paul Peltier. He was such an egotistical braggart that he explained to her how the stock market operated and even showed her in detail his method of trading stocks. He claimed he was quite successful as an investor and often made thousands of dollars on a single trade. Later she realized he only shared the information with her because he deemed her penniless and too stupid to take advantage of the information he bestowed on her. Unbeknownst to him, she had saved the majority of her pay amounts since the beginning of her employment. At the public library, she studied the Value Line Investment Survey to select stocks she felt were undervalued. That and the library's copy of the Wall Street Journal became her evening and weekend passions. After three months of nightly studying and learning, she selected one of the new discount brokers and opened an account. Master Bastard would have had a stroke if he knew the amount of money she'd accumulated over the years because of his initial bragging.

  At eight fifty-five, she phoned the mansion again. The phone rang ten times, still no one answered. Anastasia became nervous. What if they didn't get back until ten or noon? She'd have to feign sickness for being late and let him dock her pay. With a third cup of coffee and a chocolate cake donut, she thought of the crowning achievement made possible with her accumulated wealth.

  Paul had thought her low class and stupid because she'd been raised in a Dominican Republic orphanage. To escape the hostile orphanage and the country, she'd worked as a street prostitute; it was degrading but temporary and worth it to escape the poverty she'd been born to.

  For her personal gratification, she applied to St. Louis University. Unexpectedly, the admissions counselor took a liking to her and she qualified for a scholarship. In a month, she entered her first semester to study psychology. After four years, she received a bachelor's degree and graduated second in her class of over fifty students. At the end of the current semester, she expected to earn her master's degree.

  She had taken a major risk recently by explaining her illegal immigrant plight to the Dean of the Psychology Department. The dean was sympathetic and instrumental in contacting government officials at the Naturalization and Immigration Department. With the dean's recommendation and backing, Anastasia would become a citizen before the end of the year. What a Christmas present! Then she could leave the lecherous old Master Bastard and start a life of her own. She would miss Johnny and prayed for his safety.

  Finally, at nine fifteen, Paul answered the house phone. She hung up without speaking. After finishing the cup of coffee, she strode to the small neighborhood grocery store run by a pair of geriatric Italian brothers. Paul maintained a closely scrutinized credit account there for her to use for household items. Casually, she bought fresh produce and fruit before sauntering back to the mansion. She expected the men should be in bed and asleep by the time she made her belated appearance. She knew when they arrived but had no inkling as to where they were overnight or why. Something of a malignant nature was at hand and she feared Master was up to no good. Her only concern was for Johnny; he was being used in something diabolic she was sure. Master had an ambience of gloating about him since his trips to the locked basement room began in past months. She had practically raised Johnny since his parents died and he came to live with his grandfather. The boy's mind was slow, but he had a kind and innocent heart.

  When Carter and Kate returned from an afternoon field assignment, they found Deline at her desk. She insisted on returning to work, even after Kate offered a week's convalescence time off with pay. The shaved area around the sutures on top of her skull would likely take ten to twelve weeks for hair to fully regrow. A silk scarf tied low on her forehead concealed the damage while adding a stylish and sophisticated look. Being the confident person Deline was, Kate didn't notice a negative impact in her composure or attitude.

  Deline looked up and said, "Good morning. I hope you do not mind that I ran the office temp away from my job." She smiled then turned serious. "Mr. Paul Peltier is an arrogant ass. I spoke to him only minutes ago, conveying your request to meet with him again. Initially, he almost screamed his flat-out refusal. Then I said you are working with the FBI and if you believe he is avoiding you because he has something to hide, you would surely turn the request for information over to them." She grinned conspiratorially. "Your appointment is for one tomorrow afternoon." She addressed both detectives remorsefully, "An hour ago, I learned from Lt. Altmon there were no gunshot wounds treated at local or regional hospitals or emergency medical facilities that could be attributed to my attacker. Either the timing was wrong or witnesses placed the patients at different locations than here."

  Kate said, "I still think the Peltier's are our best leads. We will push Paul D. hard tomorrow afternoon. Carter spoke with Thomas Masenilli earlier. The FBI has not discovered anything new about Paul Peltier in addition to what you have already learned."

  Deline smirked. "See, I told you I am very good."

  Paul slammed the receiver of the old black phone down on the cradle. He didn't want to spend addition time with those damned detectives. What could they possibly want from him now? Could this relate to Johnny’s attack on their secretary? Likely so. Nothing else came to mind. He'd need to be careful that nothing accidentally slipped out during the interrogation by his Gestapo-like nemeses.

  He turned back to the open file on ketamine at Wikipedia. He didn't like what he read. “It induces a trance-like state while providing pain relief, sedation and memory loss. Common side effects include psychological reactions as the medication wears off. These reactions may include agitation, confusion, or hallucinations.”

  He understood why Johnny had appeared confused and agitated before they left Wilson's house. And hallucinations. That bastard Wilson had given his grandson a drug that could cause psychotic attacks. Now he felt really pleased with shooting Wilson. He spent another thirty minutes chasing other sites and learned United States airline pilots were forbidden to have ketamine administered because they could later suddenly have hallucinations at any time in any place for the rest of their lives. Paul could only hope Johnny would be spared that horrible side effect related to a single injection of the drug. He wished he could have left Wilson wounded but alive in the basement before the inferno consumed him. The rotten bastard deserved it.

  After a few minutes that seemed like ten, Anastasia opened the outer door at the Peltier home. "Mr. Peltier is not home."

  Carter said, "We have an appointment to meet him at one. When do you expect him back?"

  "He told me of your visit before leaving. Something surely delayed him. He had a luncheon date but planned to be here before now to receive you."

  Kate raised her voice firmly. "May we please come inside to wait? It’s hot standing here in the sun."

  Anastasia grimaced as she hesitated. She was unsure of what Master's reaction would be. Over the past nine months,
he had changed so dramatically it was frightening. He had always been difficult, but lately his behavior was growing more erratic. She straightened with resolve. "Come, you will wait in the sitting room."

  Ten minutes later, they heard shoes squeaking on the floor. Johnny walked by and stopped comically confused when he heard the detectives talking in muted tones while they sat alone in the big room. Louie Louie faced the strangers and growled subtly. Johnny patted the dog's head and instructed, "Stay."

  Kate had a sudden inspiration. " Johnny, I am Kate and this is my friend Carter." She stood, and with her left hand behind her she surreptitiously pushed Carter down as he started to stand with her. Cautiously, she walked to the hallway. "Your dog is beautiful. What is its name?" She thought it unusual that Johnny wore a heavy long sleeved shirt in the summer heat, but then the thick walled house was cool.

  "Louie Louie."

  "What a great name. May I pet him?"

  Johnny was befuddled by the pretty lady’s attention. "Louie Louie, stay. Now you can pet him."

  Kate squatted with difficulty in front of the dog to scratch his head between his ears. Her tight, navy skirt wasn't made for squatting. "He is so beautiful; his coat is so shiny." She looked up to Johnny and met his dark blue eyes. "I bet he sleeps in your room with you."

  Johnny grinned as he nodded fervently.

  "That is so cool. Can I see where he sleeps?"

  "Sure, my room's upstairs. Follow me."

  Johnny and Louie Louie bounded up the oak stairway. Kate's tight skirt and three-inch heels hampered her speed. Johnny waited at the second floor while Louie Louie pranced excitedly next to him.

  They entered a room on the right, three doors past the stairway. Paint a medium shade of purple covered the walls and ceiling above a black carpet. Kate grinned at the sloppy mess the room presented. The only bright spot was that Anastasia had made the queen-sized bed earlier that morning. But that was before Johnny and the pony-sized dog flopped on it. The rest of the room was a disaster of mishmashed items piled one on top of the other. Two computers and monitors sat on a long table against a far wall. A closed laptop lay beside them. Several computers and assorted parts were heaped beside the table. Books filled four wall shelves. An en suite bathroom was off to the right.

  "Oh, I like it. The colors fit you and Louie Louie perfectly."

  Conspiratorially, Kate asked, "May I use your bathroom? I have to go really, really bad."

  Johnny nodded. He'd do anything for his beautiful new friend.

  The bathroom door closed before Kate looked for a specimen to run a DNA sample on. There was hair in a comb on the lavatory. Beside it was a dirty clothes hamper. She raised the painted wood lid on the wicker hamper and sorted through the soiled garments. As she lifted a pair of boxer shorts she noted the nocturnal emission residue on the material. The shorts were carefully folded and rolled inside a clean pilfered washcloth before she reluctantly and carefully inserted them in her purse.

  She flushed the toilet before washing her hands thoroughly with soap, then opened the door. Johnny stood awkwardly waiting for her. Kate said, "Do both of you sleep on the bed?"

  He nodded, "I sleep under the covers and Louie Louie lays on top of them. He licks my face after I close my eyes."

  "Thanks for showing me your room. Now I should go back downstairs." She extended her right arm and they shook hands. "Thank you, Johnny, I like you." She stepped through the doorway and at the stairway started back down to the entry level.

  Paul Peltier hustled along the hallway toward the bottom of the stairs as he heard footsteps reach the middle steps. He stopped and bristled when he saw Kate descending the stairs. His face reddened and his hands clenched into fists.

  "What are you doing? Who said you could ramble throughout my home?”

  A voice behind Kate said, "Grandpa, I showed my new friend my room, where me and Louie Louie sleep. Did I do something wrong?"

  Carter stood and moved to the doorway, observing the confrontation.

  Calmly, Paul said, "It's alright, son. You didn't do anything wrong." Looking harshly at Kate, he continued, "I believe your partner is waiting for us, Ms. Menke." Paul strode past Carter and sat across from the leather sofa frowning his hostility.

  As Kate bent to sit, Paul criticized, "You had no business wandering around my home, even if my grandson was with you. Don't do it again under any circumstance." Without waiting for her reply, he continued, "Now what is so crucial that it again dictated a meeting on such short notice?"

  Kate ignored Paul's earlier diatribe. She thought for a few seconds and decided that since he was already upset she would antagonize him further with a veiled accusation. She saw nothing to lose by aggravating him and maybe throwing him off balance. She laid a digital recorder on the coffee table and turned it on. "I want to record our conversation. Do you object, Mr. Peltier?"

  Paul grunted. "No, record anything you want to if it will remove you from my home quicker."

  Kate turned the recorder on, then stated the attendees’ names and the date. She crossed her legs at the knee then continued. "Our office manager was attacked two days ago; she was hit and suffered severe trauma." She stared pointedly into Paul's face. “Where were you and Johnny at six in the evening Tuesday when our receptionist was attacked?"

  Paul bounded out of the chair and glared at both detectives. His anger was so intense his body shook. His voice quivered as he yelled, "This is preposterous. You have just accused me of injuring your employee with a pistol outside your office. My attorney will file a harassment suit against you. Now are you satisfied? Leave damn it. Get out of my home immediately."

  The detectives looked at each other and grinned. Carter smirked and nodded to Kate. Neither made a move to stand. Carter asked, "Since the news media wasn't informed that our employee was hit with a handgun, how do you know that unless you are involved?"

  Paul's features hardened. He'd been played by these opponents and let his damned temper get the best of him. A deep breath helped give him time to think while he sat and composed himself. "I don't recall who told me, but someone at the police department must have. I have good relationships with several of the officers."

  Kate's glare was hard as she repeated her question. "Where were you and Johnny at six in the evening Tuesday?" She had him. The fact that he knew Deline was hit with a handgun proved he was involved and had firsthand knowledge.

  In a calm and controlled voice, Paul replied sarcastically, "We were in Poplar Bluff, Missouri, if you must know."

  Both detectives were momentarily taken aback. "And who can back up your alibi?" Carter asked.

  Paul smiled dourly. "We stayed at the Hampton Inn at Poplar Bluff. Wait here while I procure the receipt for our room." At his desk, Paul gloated. It had cost an extra three hundred dollars to convince the greedy little bitch night clerk to manually enter five-thirty p.m. as their check in time. That was in addition to the outrageous rate for the suite she insisted he rent at the mid-range motel and didn't get to use.

  Neither detective smirked when the receipt was handed to Carter. "It looks legitimate," Carter said to Kate before passing the original to her. "I'd like a copy of the receipt for our file," he said.

  It was Paul's turn to smirk as he reached to retrieve the paper. "Call my attorney and file a request for a copy. I'm tired of cooperating with you in response to your demeaning accusations. Now leave."

  "We will," Carter said, "as soon as you give me the contact information for your lawyer."

  Paul heard Anastasia close and lock the outer entrance doors. He watched as the same routine was repeated on the inner doors as he stepped behind her. His fists were clenched tightly. Anastasia turned and bumped into him. She saw the fiery anger in his eyes and looked subserviently to the floor. She hoped to avoid a confrontation. With her head bowed, she never saw his arm swing toward her head.

  His right hand was open; the palm smacked the left side of her face with a resounding WHACK. She staggered off balance
and landed against the foyer wall. Eyes wide with fear, she felt further intimidated when he gripped her chin with his left hand, pushed her backward and brutally slammed her head against the wall with a resounding thunk. The right hand moved in a blur of motion and stung her cheek again, then yet again before her hands rose defensively.

  “Stop.” She yelled forcefully.

  "What the hell were you thinking, letting those detectives into my home unattended? They are not friends of mine, and you know that. As you age, you not only get uglier, but your mind is deteriorating and you've become stupid. If anything like this ever happens again, you'll pay a severe price for your actions. You can easily be deported and replaced, you know."

  Anastasia's cheeks were red and tears dribbled from her eyes.

  The sound of movement on the second floor drew his attention. He quickly released Anastasia and let his hand drop away as he stepped back.

  "Grandpa, what's wrong? Why did you hurt Anastasia?" Johnny hastily clomped down the stairs. Louie Louie trotted beside him.

  Paul took several deep breaths to relax. "Anastasia made a critical error in judgment and was punished for it. It's over and done with now. You can go back upstairs to your room."

  "You could scold her like you do me. You don't have to hit her and make her cry."

  Johnny took Anastasia's hand and pulled her toward the kitchen. He hesitated and turned back to Paul with tears trailing down his cheeks. Confusion colored his voice. "Anastasia is my friend. Don't ever hit her again or I'll hit you back for her. Please, Grandpa, don't make me do that to you."