Chapter 22

Lloyd stared up at the hanging man and then looked at Brandon, “You know, that is the problem of having a small police force. You draw all the homicides. Get him down from there, Jake,” he yelled at the medical examiner.

Brandon just looked at the apparent suicide, but something was off about it. Something about the hanging man didn’t sit right with him. Brandon watched silently as they removed the body and placed it on a board to carry it back to the morgue. Lloyd was already moving through the crime scene hoping to figure out why the poor bastard felt he had to hang himself. He walked into the abandoned building with Brandon on his heels. Both climbed the creaky stairs to the third floor, Lloyd dodging plants that he thought he would fall through.

The building was an old manufacturing plant that hadn’t been leased out in decades, the main floor was gutted out exposing the external wall, the stairs looked like they would fall if a gentle breeze blew and the lights were all hanging from their electrical connections. The building looked like a fire hazard waiting to happen.

Brandon looked around, pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number, “Please pick up, please pick up. Hey, Aundrea, how are you? Good, Good. Listen, I need some help with a case I am working on. Yes, I know what you do, but the case involves a building. What happens to a building that becomes dilapidated? Like nothing has happened in here in decades? Well..What do you mean? Oh, really? How can I check that out? Cortez, county offices. Oh, it’s all online. Well, that is convenient.”

Lloyd looked around while Brandon was on the phone. He was honestly surprised that the structure held the body. He was surprised the building held him and Brandon. Brandon, finishing his conversation and putting away his phone, apparently got the same idea as he made his way gingerly down to the main floor. Lloyd followed him down waiting until they were safely on the ground before asking about Brandon’s conversation.

“You called your sister?” Lloyd asked.

“Yeah, I wanted to know how to figure out who is paying for this building,” Brandon said, looking around.

“Tax rolls should tell us that,” Lloyd observed.

Brandon nodded, “I want to see that check, I want to access that bank account.” The phone rang again and Brandon answered.

Lloyd let him finish his conversation and found a set of footprints going from the building. Footprints coming into the building would make sense, but a set going out would suggest the man wasn’t alone when he hung himself.

“Hey!” Lloyd shouted, “I need a technician here!”

Three technicians came running to where Lloyd was standing, “I want pictures and plasters made of these footprints. We had a hard rain three days ago so these are fresh.”

The technicians nodded and got to work. Lloyd watched as they took the pictures and started pouring the plaster.

Brandon came out the door and nearly stepped into the plaster, “oh shit!” He jumped to the side and landed right behind the technician taking photos. “Sorry about that.”

The technician just nodded and took another shot of the scene.

“I thought they were all upstairs,” Brandon said sheepishly as he made his way to Lloyd.

“They were,” Lloyd said. “I called these two down to take pictures of these prints. They might be important.”

“Won’t they match the victim’s shoes or one of the morgue technicians?” Brandon asked.

“Well, the technicians left out the main loading dock which is cement,” Lloyd pointed to the large loading platform. “There are footprints all along the other side of the building where we might find the match to these, our technicians and the victim. But these, they are all alone and walking away.”

Brandon looked down at the footprints and noticed they went straight to the street. The alleyway was muddy and the footprints were fresh.

“What did your sister say?” Lloyd asked.

“She said she wanted to come up and look at the building herself. She said if the building was as bad as we are describing then this might be a good time to tear it down and build out something new. I told her to make her way here, but give us a little time to remove the building as a crime scene. Don’t worry, if they do any due diligence, we can get any information from her and it will be faster than getting a warrant.”

Lloyd nodded, “we might need her help. The guy hung himself here, he was comfortable with the building.”

“Could this be our rapist?” Brandon asked.

“We didn’t pull Keith Ridgewood’s body from that line,” Lloyd shook his head. “But we can run our victim’s DNA with the DNA on file if it will help you sleep at night.”

“I can’t believe we are going on the word of a 16-year-old girl who sees things,” Brandon said. “I hope you don’t mind if I keep that out of my report.”

“I am counting on it,” Lloyd muttered.

Marc Anthony stared at the photo he had taken of the hanging man, did he know the man? He didn’t think so. There wasn’t anything familiar about him. Light brown hair, medium build; if Marc Anthony didn’t know better, he might be looking at Keith Ridgewood, but he knew he wasn’t that lucky.

None of us are ever that lucky, he thought. Well, mister hanging man, who are you? Marc Anthony looked for identifying marks and found a tattoo on the man’s arm, zoomed in on the image and enhanced it. It was a little blurry still, but legible.

Marc Anthony moved on from the hanging man and to the job he was getting paid for, he processed the pictures, cleaned them up and sent them to his client. Smiling, he put his next stakeout on his calendar. This time he was following his client for his other client, the wife. The bell on his door rang and he looked up expecting to see someone he didn’t know.

Nancy Ridgewood walked in.

“Hello, Nancy,” Marc Anthony was a little surprised to see her. “How can I help you?”

“I took the kids to a mom’s day out at Styles Academy,” Nancy said. “I know Keith will think it is a waste of money, but I kept some back from my allowance so I could pay cash and he wouldn’t notice. I talked to Dr. Styles about keeping the invoice in Christopher’s file. She agreed. I am so happy they can play with other children. Dr. Styles says she has room for Christina and Clarissa in her daycare…”

“Nancy,” Marc Anthony interrupted, “I am sure you didn’t come all the way into town and in my offices to talk about the merits of Styles Academy, though there are many.”

Nancy looked at him, noticed that she was rambling innately and started to sob, “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t go on like this, Mr. Foster. There is something seriously wrong with my husband. Something terribly wrong and I don’t want to…I can’t…I need the help you talked to me about. I am willing to pay you.”

Marc Anthony nodded. He didn’t expect her to come to him, but was not surprised she had. He pulled out a contract, a form and a notepad. He went over the contract that included a nondisclosure on his side.

“I don’t talk about any of this to anybody,” Marc Anthony explained, “you are not just paying for the information, but you are also paying for my absolute discretion about that information. This form gives me his schedule, his work address, vehicle information and permission to look for all the financial information I can find. This allows me to act on your behalf.”

Nancy nodded and signed her portion of the contract and forms. Marc Anthony made copies of them and sealed them in an envelope.

“I will keep these in your file at the office,” Marc Anthony reassured her. “You can get them whenever you feel safe to do so, which will be very soon.”

“Thank you for your delicacy in this matter,” Nancy said numbly.

“Well, I deduced that if he couldn’t see a mom’s day out receipt from the Styles Academy, then he certainly can’t see this,” Marc Anthony mused. “Now, tell me what you need me to do, what information do you need?”

“I need the financial information,” Nancy said. She gathered herself, pulled her shoulders back and straightened her spine. “I am tired of being in the dark about my own company. I am tired of being in the dark about my finances. Also, I need you to look into the life insurance policy. I want to know who the beneficiary is and how much he took out on me.”

“Do you think he means to harm you?” Marc Anthony asked. “I have places you can go, take the children until this is all over.”

“No,” Nancy shook her head, “I want to know where he is and what he is doing. I want to know why he chased that little girl into the woods.”

“You heard about that,” Marc Anthony said surprised. “I was sure he would hide that from you.”

“How,” Nancy asked indignantly. “He came home with a torn shirt, muddy and bleeding. I had to take him to the doctor and get him stitched up. He made up some stupid story and I didn’t find out the truth until the police came and asked about it. I am tired of being blind.”

Marc Anthony nodded as he took notes, “I can get you the information, including talking to the girl he chased and getting her side of it. But, I warn you now, you might not like the answers.”

“I have already prepared myself for that,” Nancy said. “I already have my suspicions of what he is doing, and I will be honest with you, Marc Anthony, I would rather he was cheating on me with another woman than what I think he is involved in.”

“What made you change your mind?” Marc Anthony asked.

“I know he is capable of killing,” Nancy said. “And he is becoming more and more short-tempered and abusive. He hasn’t hit me or done anything to the children, but it is only a matter of time. These things have a way of escalating and I have to protect my children.”

Nancy stood up and held out her hand, “Thank you for your time, Marc Anthony, I really appreciate your help.” She took out an envelope full of cash and handed it to Marc Anthony. “Here is the retainer fee, let me know if this doesn’t cover everything.”

Marc Anthony took the envelope and escorted Nancy out the door. He went back into the office, opened the envelope and started counting the money. She gave him $10,000. Where did she get $10,000? She was all worried about Keith finding out about a mom’s day out, what would he think about this? Marc Anthony knew what Keith would think about this. He would kill her. Marc Anthony needed a good plan going forward.

“I had a very interesting conversation today,” Melissa said as she sipped her tea, “would you like to hear about it?”

She called earlier and asked if Marc Anthony wanted to meet up for lunch. Checking his schedule and seeing that he had no booked appointments, Marc Anthony closed the office for lunch and now was seated at a patio table at the cafe they both liked.

“Sure,” Marc Anthony said, biting into his egg sandwich.

“Well,” Melissa started, assuming an air of mystery, “I was in my office, minding my own business running my daycare and I saw two adorable children, girls specifically, walk in. I have never seen these children before, but there they are.”

“Don’t you have a boy’s school?” Marc Anthony said absently. He was still thinking about the conversation and the $10,000 Nancy gave him earlier.

“The academy is for boys, but the daycare is for boys and girls,” Melissa said, then continued with her story. “Anyway, Nancy Ridgewood came in for the first time in two years and asked if she could take advantage of my mom’s day out program. I said, of course you can, got the girls registered for the day and she paid cash. Begged me not to send the invoice home by mail, but just to put it in Christopher’s school file, Keith couldn’t know about this of course…”

“Wait, what,” Marc Anthony snapped out of his musing. “I know Nancy dropped the girls off, she came to see me and told me all about it. She came to see me as part of her mom’s day out.”

“Interesting,” Melissa said smiling. “You know, I think she is getting the courage to leave him. You know she asked me about attorneys and I gave her a few names of good divorce attorneys.”

“I hope she talks to them soon,” Marc Anthony said. “I hope she talks to them real soon and gets out quickly.”

Nancy hurried back to the house with her children, she cut the day a little close, but all her personal errands were done and she even had a little time to get her nails done. The manicurist wanted to know why she wanted such a simple design and color, but Nancy insisted. She had to look as if she could do her nails at home. Not that Keith would have noticed under normal circumstances, but he hadn’t been acting normally. She was afraid that if she came in with bright red, he would notice and ask where the children were all day while she was wasting time and his money.

She brought a sleeping Clarissa in and placed her in bed for her nap, then Nancy got started on dinner. Everything had to be ready when Keith got home in an hour and half. Kieth came home right on time and was already in a terrible mood.

Nancy had fed the babies earlier so he wouldn’t have to deal with them and placed them outside to play. There were still a few hours of daylight left and she wanted to make good use of it.

“Where are the kids, Nancy?” Keith asked gruffly, “don’t you think they should be here eating with their dad?”

“I thought you would like an adult meal,” Nancy said timidly. “That is what you said you wanted yesterday. How was your day?”

“My day,” Keith sneered, “are you sure you want to know about my day now?”

“Why wouldn’t I be interested in your day?” Nancy asked nervously. She started fidgeting with the doily under her plate.

“Never mind,” Keith picked up his plate and went to the living room. “I am going to watch television while I eat. The company will be a lot better.”

Nancy was relieved she was no longer under his gaze, if he figured out what she had done, who she talked to, Keith might go as far as to kill her. She started to think about what kind of life her kids would have if she were gone. They would of course go to Keith’s brother, Kenneth, and his wife, Julie, who had two kids of their own.

Keith turned on the news to find the police talking about a man they found hanging from an abandoned building on the southside of town. The reporter said the man might have been the serial killer who killed himself because the police were closing in.

“The police are waiting for the DNA match to come back,” the reporter said. “As we all are waiting with bated breath as this would end the terror we are all under.”

Keith breathed a sigh of relief. The police would believe this guy is the real killer and close the case. Everything works out for everyone, he thought. This guy is dead apparently by suicide, the FBI agent will go home and no one will look at him.

“Nancy,” Keith said, getting up and going back to the small dining room, “why don’t we plan a vacation? I think we all could use a break here. Things have been so hectic lately and it will be good to get away.”

Nancy groaned inwardly, she didn’t want to go on a vacation, she wanted to get out of town if she had to. Outwardly, she smiled gently at him as she finished cleaning her plate and took his plate to scrape off the food remnants.

“Of course,” she said sweetly, “that sounds like a great idea. I will begin planning it right away. How long do you think we will be gone?”

“A week,” Keith said. “A week of rest and relaxation.”