Page 129 of Witness 8

In the center of the plastic sheet was the creepy old painting.

This thing was important to Ruby. I knew that much. Alison had mentioned Ruby stared at it sometimes.

She’d got a lot of money out of Ellis and Bale before they’d worked out Ruby was the blackmailer. And she’d more than likely killed Alison’s mother, Esther. And it had all started, I guessed, with planting another murder weapon in John Jackson’s bedroom closet. A gun used by either Ellis or Bale to murder Margaret Blakemore. My working theory was that either Ruby had been in on the murder or, more likely, she was a witness. I couldn’t discount the possibility she was part of the plot to kill Blakemore, but that part didn’t entirely make sense. No, I was pretty sure Ruby had been lucky, or unlucky, one night, and secretly watched the murder.

Instead of calling the police right away, she had taken the gun from somewhere. Maybe she’d watched the killer dump it, then she’d quickly retrieved it, wiped any trace of the real killer and somehow planted John’s DNA on the weapon – but, impossibly, not his palm print.

She’d got the money she’d wanted. Yet she was still coming to trial, I guessed, to testify against Jackson tomorrow. What was her endgame?

My mind, stalled, switched back on to the real world and my eyes seemed to flash open on the refrigerator door. That, or my subconscious was drawn to it.

I looked at the family collection of souvenirs and reminders on the door. Postcards. Artwork. Plans. Then joined Bloch in the hallway as she stood on the plastic sheet and stared down at the painting.

‘Was she going to wrap this painting in plastic and steal it?’ Bloch asked. ‘This has all been about money.’

‘She wanted the Jacksons out of the house,’ I said. ‘She probably stole the necklace too. Framed Althea for the theft andEsther’s murder. But this painting . . . Maybe it is valuable, but . . .’

My breath caught in my throat as the priest in the picture moved.

Then I saw it wasn’t moving. A fly had darted across the priest’s face. It took flight, and landed beside another fly in the discolored space on the wall where the picture had hung.

Bloch looked at the wall, looked at me.

I went back to the kitchen, said, ‘Take some pictures of the refrigerator door. We need to move,’ I said.

I went outside, got into my car, started it up and called Alison.

‘Hi, Alison, it’s Eddie. I need you to make a call for me tonight . . .’

After I’d hung up on Alison, I called Detective Artie Chase.

The precinct patched me through to Chase on his cell phone.

‘I need you to come meet me tonight,’ I said.

‘I’m a little busy right now, but you are on my list of people to talk to. I’ve got two dead bodies to deal with. You mind telling me your client’s movements this evening?’

‘He’s in a hotel with his wife and son. Hotel staff and security cameras should be able to confirm that. What bodies are you talking about?’

‘Two more of his neighbors are dead. Todd Ellis was found burned to a crisp in a rental car near the airport. Local cops ID’ed him from his wallet contents, some of which had managed to survive the fire. I’m standing on Henry Hudson Parkway right now, looking at Brett Bale. He was shot in his car. Doesn’t look like a robbery to me.’

Somehow Ruby had escaped Bale. It wasn’t Lake who shot Bale. He would’ve called.

‘I can’t help you with those murders, but I need you to come meet me tonight. I want to make a deal.’

61

Ruby

She watched Mr. Christmas pull away and felt her phone vibrate in her pocket.

Alison.

Ruby hit answer.

‘Hi, Ruby, I’m just wondering if you could do me a favor tomorrow. The construction workers are coming in the morning, and I was wondering if you could be there to let them in?’

Ruby felt a sickness in her stomach.