Kill for Me

Charles Grant’s ivory box sat on the table. Stacked next to the box were the journals that had belonged to Arthur Vartanian and the notebooks Luke told her they’d found in Charles Grant’s home. And next to those lay a simple manila envelope.

Susa

“Ed did,” Chase said, “to be sure nothing would explode, literally or figuratively.”

Ed’s expression was carefully blank, giving away nothing.

“What’s in the envelope?” Luke asked.

“It’s from Borenson,” Chase said. “He left instructions that if he died suspiciously or went missing, his safe-deposit box should be turned over to the authorities.”

“That was the key we found in Granville’s firebox,” Nancy said. “We think Grant sent Toby Granville to find the file, but Toby only found the key. It fits Borenson’s safe-deposit box in a Charleston bank. And it’s why Charles Grant tortured Borenson. He wanted to know where the papers were kept. They incriminate everyone.”

“Borenson’s attorney only learned of his disappearance this morning,” Chase said, “and dropped this off while we were all in Dutton. Borenson’s papers detail the ongoing rivalry between Arthur and Charles and throw in a few extras like the real death certificate for the body that was buried in Simon’s grave and proof of Charles Grant’s real identity, courtesy of Angie Delacroix. Looks like she had an ace up her sleeve, too.”

“It would have been nice if they’d come forward when it mattered,” Susa

“We did,” Chloe said. “She participated in Charles Grant’s extortion, willingly or not.”

“And we convinced Paul Houston to tell us what he had on Leigh,” Pete said grimly.

Susa

“How did we get him to tell?” Pete asked.

“Yes.”

Pete glanced at Chloe, who was looking up at the ceiling. “Paul might have tripped on the way to the car… once or twice. He was cryin’ so hard over Charles, you know. Couldn’t see where he was going.”

“It’s so sad when dirty cops have two left feet,” Chloe murmured.

“Ain’t it, though?” Pete said, still grimly. “About two years ago three little kids were killed when they were hit by a speeding vehicle. The kids were in a crosswalk, the car ran a light and didn’t stop. Paul Houston caught the case.”

Luke blew out a breath. “That was Leigh?”

“Yeah.” Pete shook his head. “ Houston found her pretty quickly, but told her he wouldn’t arrest her and strung her along until he needed her. That was this week.”

“We showed Houston ’s picture to Jeff Katowsky,” Chloe said, “the guy who tried to kill Captain Beardsley. He identified Houston as the cop who busted him. Same song as Leigh. Houston didn’t book him in exchange for future favors.”

“Did Houston keep a journal?” Susa

Pete’s smile was wry. “No, but he’s willing to talk. He’s scared of Georgia jail.”

“And of New York jail,” Chloe added. “Al Landers plans to charge him with rape. Yours. You never got to confront Granville or Simon, but you can confront Houston.”

Talia leaned forward. “But only if you want to.”

Susa

Everyone was quiet for a moment, then Chase pointed to the ivory box. “Open it.”

Her hands steady, Susa

Ed shook his head. “There’s a spring mechanism under the queen. Push it.”

She opened it. “His dog tags.” She pulled them out, let them dangle. “Ray Kraemer.”

“And a slug,” Luke murmured. “Looks old. Maybe the one Ellis shot into his leg.”

“Maybe. A photo.” Susa

Nancy studied it. “That’s Grant’s handwriting. I’ve been reading his journals all day.”

“I got Ray Kraemer’s and Michael Ellis’s military records,” Chase said. “Kraemer was captured in ’67, Ellis in ’68. It was thought Ellis was captured by the Vietcong while trying to desert, but nobody was sure. He found an army camp after escaping the POW camp. He’d been lost in the jungle for three weeks. Because they couldn’t prove he’d deserted, he was honorably discharged. Kraemer was listed MIA. Until today.”

“Mr. Grant was still there in 1975, according to this photo,” Susa

“They look like they’re friends,” Luke said, then passed the photo around.

“We found robes similar to these in Charles’s closet,” Pete said. “Recently worn.”

“Here’s the Asian man again,” Susa

“I had it translated while you were in the ER,” Ed said. “Pham’s a fortune-teller.”

“Why would Mr. Grant keep this?” Susa

“Because in addition to extorting money for secrets, Grant told the fortunes of a number of the wealthy women in Dutton,” Nancy said. “He kept records of how much they paid him, what he’d told them. Sometimes he paid out money to third parties to make the fortunes come true. Susa

“Makes sense. Arthur said my mother was afraid of Grant’s ‘Asian voo-doo.’ ”

“Arthur’s journal says Borenson provided a fake death certificate for Simon the day before you heard that Simon was dead,” Nancy said. “Grant’s journal says that he read for your mother the day before Simon’s ‘death,’ that great tragedy was coming.”

“Because Arthur was going to tell her Simon was dead. Borenson must have told Grant,” Susa

Ed took them from her gently. “This one says this Pham person is a healer. This one says he cha

“A flim-flam man,” Pete said, casting an arched brow at Nancy.

Nancy groaned. “Flim-flam Pham? Geeze, Pete.”

Susa

She skimmed. “Ray Kraemer dug the bullet out of his own leg after Ellis left him for dead. He crawled through the jungle till he passed out. When he woke up he was in a hut, burning up with fever, being cared for by a Vietnamese man. ‘I never thought I’d be grateful to one of them, but this guy has taken care of me. I still don’t know why.’ ”

She flipped ahead. “ ‘His name is Pham. He gives me food and shelter. After a year in one of their hell-holes, I’m finally full and dry. I thought Pham was a doctor, or maybe a teacher, or a priest. I realized today that Pham is a con artist. A chameleon. He has an unca