Close Neighbors. Dawn Stewardson

Close Neighbors - Dawn Stewardson


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      That, Anne thought, was only too true. Likely, people in the park had seen Rachel and Graham together. Or, at the very least, had seen their cars parked in the same place. Which meant it would only have been a matter of time until the police learned her identity.

      “So Rachel called the police,” she said. “And the next thing you knew those detectives were at your house.”

      Chase nodded.

      “And when Julie told me the ‘TV people’ are implying Rachel did it? Are they really?”

      “Yes.”

      “Do you think that’s just hype, or did the detectives actually seem to suspect her?”

      “Well…I’d better fill you in on some of the other details. Graham was killed with a .40-caliber Glock, which, apparently, is standard Toronto police issue. So they assume someone turned his own gun on him and—”

      “He had it with him, then?”

      “It seems that way. Rachel didn’t see it. But he was wearing a jacket, so it could have been underneath that or in a pocket. At any rate, it wasn’t found at the scene. And since it wasn’t in his car or apartment, the detectives figure he was carrying it. And that the killer took it with him.”

      “But if ballistics hasn’t got it, there’s no way of telling whether it’s actually the murder weapon or not.”

      “No, and…you know a lot about police procedures?”

      “A fair bit.”

      “Well, then, if they’d really thought it was Rachel who killed him, wouldn’t they have checked her for gunpowder? Don’t traces of it show up even if somebody’s spent forever scrubbing their hands?”

      “Uh-uh. Unless you do a gunshot residue test within a few hours, it’s basically useless. They’d never have bothered with one the morning after, regardless of what they thought.”

      “You’re positive?”

      “‘Fraid so.”

      Chase raked his fingers through his hair, clearly not happy with that bit of information.

      “Those detectives kept coming back to one fact,” he finally continued. “Rachel’s the last person who saw Graham alive.”

      “Look,” Anne said quietly. “I realize how unnerving this has to be, but they’re only doing their job—trying to establish exactly what happened during the time leading up to his death. And since Rachel was with him…what I’m saying is that her being with him is an entire world away from her having killed him. And they know that.”

      “Right. Of course they do. But…”

      “But what?”

      He hesitated, then said, “The man who phoned me. Who says he has the gun. What if he actually does, and he’s figured out some way he really can use it to implicate her?”

      Anne slowly sat back in her chair. If Rachel had absolutely nothing to do with Graham’s murder, why would Chase think there was any way someone could frame her?

      Because that’s what his caller threatened to do, she silently answered her own question. And even if it’s not a realistic threat, it’s a very frightening one.

      “Have you considered that this guy might just be some crank?” she said. “That he doesn’t have the gun at all? Maybe he only heard about the murder on the news. And with the media insinuating that the ‘girlfriend’ did it, he decided to find out who Rachel was and try a shakedown.”

      “Yes, I thought about that. In fact, my first assumption was that he had to be a nutcase. But as he kept talking, I realized he’d actually been close by while Rachel and Graham were arguing. Because he knew Graham had shoved her. Plus, he repeated a couple of things they said.

      “As for the gun, I don’t think there’s any doubt he has it. He said Graham’s initials are on the handle. Which is true. According to Rachel, some cops like to have that done, and Graham was one of them.”

      Anne nodded, thinking that even if Chase’s caller had the real item, they still had no way of knowing whether it was the murder weapon or not.

      “Let’s back up for a minute,” she said. He wasn’t exactly giving her the story in an orderly fashion, and unless he did she was likely to miss more information than she got.

      “When you say this guy called you, you mean that you answered the phone and he didn’t ask for Rachel? He just went ahead and laid his story on you?”

      “No, I mean he specifically called me. I’ve got a separate line in my office and that’s the one he used, not the house number.”

      “And what about his voice? I don’t suppose it sounded even slightly familiar?”

      “No. Actually, it barely sounded real. It had a strange, metallic tone.”

      “As if he was using some sort of electronic device?”

      “Exactly. So even if he was someone I know, I wouldn’t have realized it. But the immediate question’s not, who is he? It’s, what do I do about him? Because he said he’d call back in a couple of days. And if I don’t have the money for him, he’s going to plant the gun someplace that will incriminate Rachel.”

      Fleetingly, Anne wondered what sort of place he had in mind, then told herself that wasn’t important and said, “Chase, a lowlife can make any threats he wants. But as long as her fingerprints aren’t on the gun it can’t incriminate her.”

      “That’s exactly what I told him.”

      “And he said?”

      “He…said they are on it.”

      “Oh?”

      The word came out far less casually than she’d intended, but Chase barely seemed to notice. He just gave her a shrug, then elaborated.

      “His version of what happened wasn’t quite the same as Rachel’s. According to him, after Graham pushed her he pulled his gun. She got up and made a grab for it. And while they both had hold of it, it went off. Graham was shot and she ran—leaving the gun lying on the ground. Which is how this jerk claims he ended up with it.”

      “Ah.” When no subtle way of wording her next question came to her, Anne simply said, “You’re sure things couldn’t have played out that way? That the gun didn’t accidentally go off, and Rachel’s just too frightened to admit—”

      “No. After Graham pushed her, she got up and left. Period. She’d never lie to me about something that important. Whereas this guy wants money from me, so he had to concoct a story he could threaten to tell the police.”

      “But…Chase, I know I’m repeating myself, but his claiming Rachel’s fingerprints are on the gun doesn’t make it true. And as long as they really aren’t—”

      “That’s what we kept telling ourselves last night. Then we realized it might not matter. I mean, what if nobody’s prints are on it by this point? What if he’s wiped it clean? And then he does plant it? Wouldn’t those detectives figure Rachel was the one who’d wiped off the prints? Because some of them were hers?”

      “Not if you tell them about this guy. Not if they’re expecting the gun to turn up someplace that—”

      “There’s more,” Chase interrupted.

      She looked at him, certain that whatever the “more” was, it wasn’t good.

      “He didn’t only talk about planting the gun. He said he’d know, right away, if I told the cops he’d called me. And that if I did, it would be game over. That he had a whole bag of tricks up his sleeve.”

      “Chase, regardless of what threats he made it still doesn’t mean—”

      “I know.


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