DEATH BY HONEYMOON Read online

  “At least you’d live,” Greg smiled oddly.

  “I’m begging you, I need more information.”

  “And I need to stay alive,” said Greg.

  Then he suddenly turned, waved, and quickly rushed away, and disappeared, around another bend.

  Cindy was left standing there alone, under the tree. She wondered exactly what Clint had discovered. It had cost him his life. Now Greg was running for his as well.

  Cindy looked up at the beautiful, sheltering tree and realized that her life wasn’t worth anything, if it wasn’t based on the truth. She had no intention of running away from this. She’d get the help she needed somehow.

  Chapter 15

  Greerson was thrilled to hear from Cindy when she called.

  “Meet me at five tonight, at the St. Regis lobby. There’s a lovely spot for coffee there.”

  The lobby of the St. Regis was a wonderful place to collect herself. Cindy got there half an hour earlier and sat down on the plush red velvet sofas, waiting for Greerson to appear. Everything in the hotel was in perfect order, guests dressed elegantly, hotel attendants solicitous about one’s every need. There was a large, round, gold clock over the registration desk. Sitting here it seemed as if nothing untoward could ever happen, that all were taken care of.

  Greerson entered dressed in a pin-striped suit. He was well dressed, prepared as usual. He greeted her warmly, and led her to the cafe behind the lobby. It was a perfect spot for coffee. Greerson ordered his coffee black.

  “How are you, Cindy?” he put his hand on hers.

  “Doing better,” she said and smiled. She felt comforted for a moment. For a moment she wondered why she had never liked him. Just passing feelings that meant nothing, she thought.

  “We have a little gift for you,” Greerson said then, taking Cindy by surprise . “There’s a policy in the company that when there is a death of an employee, we offer the spouse a grievance check to help them get back on their feet. In honor of Clint and how much he meant to us, let us present this to you.”

  He handed the envelope to Cindy. “I’m sure it will be a while before the insurance kicks in and everything else is taken care of. This will hold you nicely until then. You won’t have to worry, and can settle back into your life.”

  Cindy looked at it. Ten thousand dollars. What was this, some kind of bribe? Some kind of payoff, to keep her silent? Was that was Clint’s life was worth? Ten thousand dollars?

  Cindy let it sit on the table for now.

  The waiter poured both of them cups of steaming coffee.

  “So, tell me how your days are going?” Greerson said, lifting the cup to his mouth.

  “Busy going through Clint’s files,” she said, “trying to understand everything.”

  Greerson put the cup down. He didn’t like it. “What is there to understand?”

  “All kinds of things,” said Cindy.

  He paused, looking disconcerted. He cleared his throat.

  “I hear that you’re sending emails to people in the company asking about this and that, as well.”

  “I’m looking for answers,” she said bluntly, “about why Clint died.”

  He picked up his cup, drained it. “Still with that? “

  “It wasn’t a natural death.”

  “You should be out unwinding, getting a massage, talking to friends, going back to your job.”

  It struck Cindy that Greerson thought that by accepting the check, she would go along with the company’s plans and wishes, forget about probing further .

  Greerson leaned forward, “Actually,” he said, “We have questions as well. We’d like to review some of Clint’s files ourselves. There are reports he was working on that we need now. Letters, documents, things like that. I’m sure you understand.”

  Cindy understood better than he could ever know. They wanted his files. They probably searched for them and realized Clint had taken them off the company computer before he died. They must have thought he had hard copies stored at the house as well.

  There was no way she was going to give them to him . “I’ll have to check with my lawyer,” she said.

  “What lawyer?” Greerson looked surprised.

  “My personal lawyer,” Cindy said lightly.

  “Clint’s business files have nothing to do with you,” Greerson’s voice grew steely. “Actually, they’re company property. Clint worked on them while he was in our employ.”

  Cindy smiled, “I’ll just have to check.” She was buying time.

  Greerson’s face became drawn. “Are you going to make this hard for us Cindy? We don’t take well to playing games.”

  It was clearly a warning. “I’m not playing games,” she said, “I’m just going step by step.”

  Greerson reached out then and touched Cindy’s arm kindly. “I know this all must be overwhelming for you,” he said. “Why don’t you give us the name of your lawyer and we’ll work it out with him.”

  Cindy blanched. There was no lawyer.

  “Let me think about it,” Cindy said.

  “What exactly is there to think about?” Greerson said, his eyes narrowing.

  Cindy felt intimidated. He was setting up a deal for her, as he had done with Greg. But she wasn’t buying it. She had no intention of doing what Greerson wanted. Maybe the company did own Clint’s files, but she had a right to know what was in them first . It was her husband that had lost his life. She couldn’t let it all be for nothing.

  Greerson looked at the envelope laying on the table. “There’s something you’re forgetting,” he said, sliding the envelope towards her.

  She looked at it, then slid it back.

  “That’s blood money,” she said coldly. “You can keep it.”

  Greerson stared back at her, his eyes turning to ice.

  He grabbed the envelope, got up swiftly, smoothed his suit, and without another word, turned and left.

  Chapter 16

  Cindy realized that whatever was in Clint’s files must be important, if Greerson was so eager to have it. She realized that she had to track it down. That it might just be the key to exactly what he was up to, to exactly why they’d wanted Clint killed.

  But as she stood there, in his office, she realized she’d looked everywhere—combed his entire place up and down. She scanned the desk, the drawers, the file cabinets, the boxes…she couldn’t imagine where else could it be.

  Where would Clint hide something valuable? she asked herself.

  Then she realized. His safe.

  She crossed the room, removed the painting from the wall, and stared at the metal safe. It could only be opened with the key. And suddenly, with a pang, she remembered where the key was.

  Clint’s mother’s basement. His favorite place to store things he deemed too valuable to keep lying around the house.

  His mom would never let Cindy into her basement. Cindy wouldn’t even bother calling.

  Cindy thought. She remembered that the basement in Clint’s mom’s home had a small side window that let in some light. Clint had once mentioned casually that the window was usually unlocked. Cindy could go there, push it open and crawl down inside. There were only three or four boxes of Clint’s files left there. She knew the key to his safe had to be in one of them . She remembered him saying he was putting it there.

  It would be best to go later, when it was dark. Then nobody would see her in the yard, crawling in. Clint’s mom and dad upstairs would probably be sleeping or watching TV, and would never hear any noise downstairs. Cindy could jog all the way there, and no one would hear a car pull up or see her slip down through the window into the basement.

  Cindy went back into Clint’s study to wait until it got dark out. It was familiar and comforting to be there now. She sat down on the old, navy shag rug, and ran her hand over it. So many times she and Clint sat on it together, holding hands. She wondered if he had any idea of what was going on in this world? If he missed it? Or, was he happy where he was?

  Final
ly, it was almost dark out. Time to go.

  As she jogged to Clint’s mother’s house, she could almost feel him jogging beside her in the misty, summer rain, urging her on. Once at the house, she moved swiftly on the soft, damp grass, under the blanket of darkness that had fallen.

  Cindy went to the side basement window, bent down and pushed hard . It opened right away.

  Cindy curled up, put her head in first, squirmed back and forth and slid the rest of her body in through the window. Holding onto the side of the wall, it was easy to lower the rest of her body down into the basement. So far all was going easily. Only a few steps left to get the key. Why did Clint’s family have to make everything so hard? She was doing this for them, too.

  It was dark down in the basement, but Cindy remembered that the boxes were over against the far wall. She quickly made her way over. There were four of them there. In the dim light that came from the open window, she could barely make out what was in each of them. Two of them were opened. Whoever had opened them hadn’t even bothered to put back the tops. It had to be Ralph, looking for personal information. He wouldn’t have had any interest in Clint’s business files. That’s where Clint had said he’d put the key. Cindy dragged those boxes closer to the open window to get some light. Once there, she pulled off the tops.

  The first box was filled with papers, filed carefully. No key.

  She opened the second box. In the back of it she saw a sealed envelope. Cindy ripped it open. There it was. She held up the key and stared at it. Then she slipped it into her pocket. This was the prize. There was no doubt about it.

  Cindy knew she should get out of there immediately, but, unable to contain her curiosity, she decided to rummage through the second box. Who knew what else Clint had buried in them? Time passed as she sat there, engrossed, reading his older presentations, and she didn’t hear the footsteps that came down the stairs.

  Lights flashed on suddenly, shocking her. She screamed.

  “Who the hell is down here?” a rough voice boomed.

  Cindy jumped, terrified.

  “Don’t make a move,” a person came closer.

  Cindy looked over. It was Ralph. She was both relieved and distraught.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he came right over, up close, to her.

  “I needed to get something that belonged to Clint,” she answered swiftly.

  “Like hell. You’re looking for the money.”

  “Look,” she motioned to the boxes,” they’re his business files.”

  “You think I was born yesterday, Cindy?” His face was flushed and his mouth drawn tight. Cindy had never seen him like this before. “How did you even get down here? Who said you could come in?”

  “Those boxes are Clint’s property,” Cindy stepped back a few feet. He was too close, breathing heavily on her.

  “You got a lawyer? He told you to do this? Breaking and entering?”

  For a quick moment Ralph seemed consumed, insane.

  “I’m trying to find out who murdered Clint,” Cindy said. “I don’t care about your money.”

  Ralph guffawed. “Who killed him?” He was mocking her, “You probably killed him for the insurance yourself. I got it figured out. You put something in his food, so when he went surfing, he wouldn’t be able to handle the waves. Then the insurance would be all yours. Now you’re trying to find the killer. Very smart, blaming it on someone else.”

  Ralph was paranoid and terrifying, There was no reasoning with him .

  “You know we tried to stop this marriage before it even took place,” he went on. “Clint wouldn’t listen. Damn guy was headstrong, and it cost him his life.”

  “Who exactly tried to stop it?” Cindy was on the alert. “You and who else?”

  “Clint’s best man, Al.”

  Cindy was shocked.

  “He took Clint out of town and talked to him about it all day long. He never liked you. He didn’t like that Clint was tying the knot in only a year. All Clint could say, over and over, was that he’d never let you go. Nobody understood why.”

  Hot, stinging tears filled Cindy’s eyes. That explained his day in Boston with Al.

  “I loved him, too,” she said, filled with pain. “I never would hurt him in anyway.”

  Ralph sneered. “You loved him, huh? Did you know Al had a photo of one of Clint’s girls. The two of them had a kid together.”

  Cindy felt devastated . “How did he know?”

  “He saw the kid. He told me. He’s a dead ringer for Clint.”

  Cindy breathed a little easier. That explained it.

  “Clint didn’t know the first thing about the kid, for a long time,” Ralph went on. “But at the end, before the wedding, he knew. Al sent the photo to him. It was a last ditch effort to wake him up.”

  Ralph didn’t know that Clint never received the photo in the mail.

  He laughed. “I bet he didn’t tell you a thing about it?”

  There wasn’t any length they’d go to, to rip her and Clint apart. Even after he was gone. But it wouldn’t work.

  “He never got the photo, Ralph.”

  Ralph coughed.

  “I found it. After he died.”

  “Well, he was damn stupid. And don’t think that woman isn’t going to come and claim insurance money for the kid as soon as she finds out. All you women - .”

  All of a sudden he grinned. He had tiny teeth all crunched together. “Finding you down here like this, proves my theory,” he said. “Why in hell would anyone crawl down into the basement, if they weren’t out to fleece us? But whether you know it or not, we’ve got the Will and insurance policy. The insurance wasn’t signed right - and honey, there’s no mention of you in the will. He never bothered to change a word of the Will after he met you.”

  Why would he, Cindy thought? They were young and healthy . And as for the insurance policy, she’d get a lawyer to straighten things out. And she’d be happy to give a nice chunk of it to Clint’s son. For now, she only wanted to get out of there.

  But Ralph had other ideas. He closed in.

  “Clint’s dad is coming to the end,” he said. “Marge knows it. There’s a lot of money that’s going to be passed around.”

  He was too close, breathing in Cindy’s face again. Then he rubbed her shoulders with his hands.. She tried to shake him off, but he only came closer.

  “I always thought you were a pretty lady,” he said, “much prettier than Marge.” Cindy felt like throwing up.

  “Get away from me,” she said, and twisted her shoulders to get free of him . She couldn’t. He pressed them tighter, pulled her to him and pushed himself up against her. Sick to her stomach, she struggled to toss him off her. She couldn’t.

  He reached up for her face. She spun it to the other side. God knows what he was planning to do.

  “Are you crazy?” she breathed. “I’ll have you locked up.”

  He guffawed again. “By who?”

  His wet mouth was all over neck.

  “I know every move you make.” Then he pulled at her face, so he could kiss her. She yanked her head the other way.

  “You’re sick,” Cindy breathed, “When I tell Marge -”

  He grabbed her tighter. “Honey, you tell Marge about this, and you’re as good as finished.”

  Cindy was enraged. She felt a surge of strength she never knew she had, and with all her power took both her hands and shoved him away. Taken by surprise, he tipped backwards and slid on the floor.

  In that precious second, Cindy flew upstairs, through the open front door, and ran into the night like a criminal, speeding away. Ralph was a monster. She never wanted to lay eyes on him again. But, at least she had the key. All the rest was garbage.

  *

  Cindy flew home and went straight to Clint’s study. The run home had been fast and furious and her body was shaking.

  She ran to Clint’s study, pulled out the key, put it into his safe’s lock, and turned it. The safe opened instantly.
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  Chapter 17

  Cindy had expected to see the safe packed with papers, valuables.

  But to her surprise, it was nearly empty. There was only one, tiny thing sitting inside it: a thumb drive.

  She held it up and stared at it, wondering what could be on it. Then she hurried over and inserted it into his computer.

  Up came a message. Directory access was locked . Password protected.

  God, help, please, she cried out . Cindy was so muddled and exhausted, she couldn’t remember what some of his passwords might be.

  She tried entering a few that she knew Clint used regularly. Neither of them opened the file.

  She switched around some letters and tried again.

  None worked.

  You’ve got to help me, Clint, she thought.

  Her head cleared a little. Then, from nowhere, it struck her to try her name.

  She typed in Cindy.

  To her amazement, the directory opened.

  Thank you, Clint, she thought. Thank you.

  She quickly scanned the contents. –It was there. The Tearwall Project Report. A huge burst of energy came over her. Cindy immediately opened it and started reading,

  First she found a general report about offshore drilling that went on for pages. It was titled: Ecological Zones in Offshore Drilling. It detailed the harm expected by drilling in the wrong area. Attached to the report was responses by others.

  What, then, is the true value of an oil well drilled a mile down offshore in a unique ecological zone subject to multiple uses? Is it simply the cost of the well or the price of the product? For example, let’s look carefully at the Tearwall Project. What are the ancillary expenses, revenues and losses and the consequences of possible disaster? Much too large for comfort. Much too much risk for the public versus what can be gained.

  A response from someone said, “Let’s drop this right now, Clint.”

  Obviously he hadn’t. Cindy read on.

  And let’s not forget the environmental refugees, the communities affected, the damage to the productive ecology. From a balance sheet perspective, what in the near term seems like profit is in the long term a financial disaster. We saw this just a few months ago in the photos of oil slicks, wide and deep. We saw fouled beaches, dead wildlife, destroyed wetlands, unemployed fishermen, bankrupt tourism businesses, depressed local economies, ruined communities.