And sometimes work could be the best thing of all.
13
At 9 P.M., Justin was slouched in his living room on Division Street. The news vans and reporters had disappeared, as had a quarter of a bottle of Jack Daniel's and two bottles of Pete's Wicked Ale. The reporters had given up and stopped loitering around his property about forty-five minutes earlier. The JD and brew were still available. Justin was trying to decide now whether or not to go for a third bottle of Pete's.
He'd been online and seen the way Evan's murder was being treated, so he was prepared for the onslaught of publicity that was sure to break the next morning. AOL news, running a story from the Associated Press, was playing it up big. The assumption was that Abigail had set up her two lovers to murder her husband, and that was made clear by the headline: threesome not enough for millionaire murderess. The story went on to detail her affair with Kelley: how he had been hired as a contractor to redo part of the Harmon mansion-that was clearly the official description of the home from now on, "the Harmon mansion"-and how Abby had gradually succumbed to Kelley's charms. Justin learned details he had not been privy to, some relevant to the case against Kelley and Abby, some not. Kelley had worked on the house for the better part of a year. The job was supposed to take four months but had stretched to twelve. Abby was receiving credit for the extension; the story said that Evan had wanted Kelley to stop working, but that his wife kept finding more and more for him to do. The AP made it sound as if the extra work was sexual. Justin supposed that was possible, but he also knew that contractors had a way of overstaying their welcome. It was their nature. Start one job, get money up front, get partway through the work, take on another job with more money up front, spend less and less time finishing up the original job as the back-end money becomes less and less important. He dismissed the idea of Abby keeping Kelley around for sexual purposes. It didn't make sense. If she wanted to have an affair, she wouldn't want him hanging around her home. She'd want Kelley close by but separate-just the way she'd had with him.
Justin realized he'd mentally put their relationship in the past tense.
Well, he thought, a murder indictment does tend to put a damper on relationships.
Still, the connection between the affair and Kelley's work at the house didn't ring true. Abby had never seemed vindictive toward Evan; she did not seem anxious to spend his money or in any way financially punish him. And knowing Abby the way he did, she did not seem the type to go out of her way so someone like Kelley should make money off her husband. It just wasn't the way her mind operated. He'd be on his own when it came to business. Of course, Justin did have to consider that it was possible he didn't really know how her mind operated. If she'd been playing him all this time, manipulating him toward his complicity in this scheme, then all bets were out the window. But he didn't really believe that. He had never thought of himself as all that easy to manipulate. And he didn't think Abby could have faked some of the things he took for reaclass="underline" the fun, the passion, the intimacy. Even the bitchiness. He thought she'd revealed an awful lot of herself if she was merely acting.
One of the things that came up in the online article and that Silverbush had also mentioned was something Justin could not dismiss: Kelley had been responsible for installing a new security system in the Harmons' house. It was an extremely complicated system. It was run by computer, and it could be disabled from Harmon's desktop computer in his den; but, if someone knew how, it could also be disabled via an outside computer. Kelley did have that knowledge. He would know how to knock out the system and how to erase any photos and records from the hard drive. Justin learned from the article that it had been determined that the system had not been disabled from inside the Harmon house, it had been done from the outside. Kelley's laptop had been impounded, but there was no word yet if there was a link between it and taking the system down. Justin figured if that link was established, it would be a matter of only minutes before the plea came.
The most damaging evidence was the stun gun. It was found in David Kelley's garage. Silverbush and Holden gave out no statement about having received a tip. The discovery was being credited only to superb police work on the part of Holden and his team.
As compared to the work done by Justin Westwood.
The take on Justin was devastating. He was having an affair with the widow Harmon; he clearly must have known about her involvement both with Kelley and with the murder; the police were moments away from linking him to the crime. In the meantime, he'd been suspended from the force. He was the sad cop with the tragic past who'd obviously been taken in by a coldhearted siren. But his heart had to be equally cold to have gone along with the brutal scheme.
There was a statement from H. R. Harmon saying that he hoped and prayed his daughter-in-law hadn't done this terrible thing, but he would not be surprised to learn that she had. He said that his son had talked to him about her adultery, that it had broken both their hearts. Evan had not divorced her because he loved her. H. R. Harmon said that he, too, loved his son's wife… but he wasn't feeling love right now. He was feeling only the anguish of loss.
Justin decided to go for the third bottle of beer.
Standing in the kitchen, he suddenly felt incredibly weary. Holding the cold beer in one hand, he leaned down, put his other hand on the stove for support, suddenly jumped up, swearing. He stared at the tiny blister that was already forming on his palm, swore again, and turned off the knob for the right front burner. He'd made himself an omelet and, once again, had forgotten to turn the damn electric burner off. He suddenly missed Abby, wished she were there to put her lips to his hand, but he knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Or possibly ever again.
Justin took a deep breath, shook his head to clear it, went back to the living room with his beer. When he'd nearly drained it-it hadn't taken more than a few gulps-he had an idea. He considered it a moment, playing it out in his head to see just how crazy it was. He decided it was crazy-but that it would also work. So he picked up the phone and dialed. His father answered the phone with a neutral "hello," and when Justin matched it, his father said, "I was just going to call you."
"Does that mean Ronald has shown up?"
"In a way," his father said.
"You want to explain that?"
"He's dead. The police found his body."
"Jesus Christ. Where?"
"Near Warwick, by Green Airport."
"By Rocky Point?"
"Yes."
"Off Tidewater Drive?"
"Yes." This time, the word was drawn out and there was a strong sense of wonder as well as annoyance in Jonathan Westwood's voice.
"Are you sure?"
"How could you possibly know that?"
Justin didn't answer. He just said again, "Dad, are you sure that's where he was found?"
"Yes. I just got off the phone with Victoria. Billy DiPezio was at the house to tell her in person. He might still be there."
"LaSalle was murdered?"
"From what I was told, yes."
"How?"
"Justin, I don't know. It wasn't really appropriate to-"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll talk to Billy and get the details."
Justin said nothing for a quite a while after that. But that didn't mean his brain wasn't racing. There was an old construction site off Tidewater Drive, close to the Providence River. It had been abandoned probably thirty years ago and was one of the few blights on the landscape in that area. But the property, still referred to as Drogan's lot-Drogan being the developer who had gone out of business long ago-wasn't just an empty lot with no past. It had been a longtime dumping ground for mob hits. Several bodies had been found there in years past, most connected in one way or another to New England organized crime. But what the hell could that mean? Ronald LaSalle was hardly the kind of suit to be taken out by the mob. He was a meek, conservative money guy. It made no sense. What the hell could Ronald have been into to deserve a fate like this?