Chapter Thirty-Three

Alex pushed a cart carrying boxes and packing supplies to Olivia’s apartment. It’d been a long night and even longer morning and the last thing she needed to do was return to the scene where her roommate had been brutally murdered, but her lease was up and they needed to move her out. Faye had offered her the small studio space above her gym.

The owners of the building would’ve probably extended her lease a few days after all that transpired, but Olivia wanted out as soon as possible. Darla’s parents hadn’t wanted to save any of her things except for mementos. All of her clothes, shoes and her mattress were being donated to a battered women’s shelter. The other items would be given to a veterans’ organization.

Olivia opened her mailbox and he was incredibly relieved there was no envelope from the Vigilante. If this person was a friend of Olivia’s and had seen the danger she’d been subjected to because of the case, maybe it would force him or her to quit the killings.

They stopped to visit Carl and were happy to see he was looking and feeling better. Olivia had wanted to pick up a cake for them, but she wasn’t sure what Carl’s diet might be after his heart scare. She decided on a basket with an assortment of fresh fruit. Alex met Mary for the first time and he just wanted to wrap the delicate woman in a hug. Both Carl and Mary were worried for Olivia and were relieved the men terrorizing her had been caught. Carl Junior was at work but Alex spoke with him earlier about their plans to move Olivia out today. With hugs and handshakes, they said goodbye to the Marshalls and headed for the elevator.

Alex waited for her to exit before he pushed the cart out on her floor. “Are you sure you’re okay going in?”

“Not really, but it has to be done.”

They stopped in front of her unit and he stuck the key in the lock. When he eased the door open, he was relieved to see Carl Junior had replaced the blood-soaked carpet just as he had assured Alex he’d done. The apartment smelled like ammonia and disinfectant. The guy had been busy.

Olivia took a deep breath and entered, skirting around the area where her roommate died. She stopped in the middle of the living room and glanced around. “I’m going to miss it here.”

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle. “Are you sure you want to do this today?”

She clutched his arms and nodded. “There are only bad memories now.”

He kissed the top of her head and released her. “I’ll pack up Darla’s room.”

“Thank you.”

He’d just grabbed a couple of boxes when Olivia called out to him. “You are not to lift anything heavy. Leave the boxes on the floor for the movers to pick up. If your rib starts to hurt, promise me you’ll stop.”

He smiled indulgently. “I promise.”

He constructed several large boxes and carried three to Olivia’s room. He took the other three to Darla’s room. One would be for items he thought her parents might want, the others for donation. He looked around the room, trying to decide where to start and settled on the closet. Darla had a ton of clothes. He took everything off the hangers and folded them as best he could. The box filled fast and he grabbed another. The shoes went next. He found one of the shoeboxes filled with mementos and added it to the container for her family. Once he finished, he moved to her small dresser. He felt like a voyeur opening her underwear drawer but he quickly sorted bras into the donation box and undies in a big black trash bag. Socks were next and then another drawer filled with junk. He had no way of knowing what was important, so he added the entire contents to her parents’ carton.

He moved to the bedside table and removed the clock radio to add to the donation pile. He used bubble wrap to secure the lamp and added it as well. He opened the drawer and jerked as if it shocked him. And it did. The thing was packed with sex toys of every shape and color. Fuzzy handcuffs, a whip, damn, Darla had a kinky side.

“What’s wrong?”

He jerked his gaze up to see Olivia standing in the doorway.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, nothing, why?” He shoved the drawer closed with his hip. No sense in Olivia knowing about her roommate’s proclivities.

“You ‘gah-ed’ pretty loudly.”

“Oh, well…”

Olivia padded into the room. He moved to block her progress. “You doing okay, sweetheart?”

“Fine and don’t try to distract me.” She moved around him and opened the drawer.

“Gah!” She yanked her fingers back.

“I tried to stop you.”

“My God, she has more toys than that shop on Seventh Avenue.” She spun around. “I can’t look.”

He guided her back outside and brushed a kiss over her lips. “I’ll take care of it.”

She ran her hand up his cheek. “Thank you.” Another kiss, this one longer and deeper. Finally, he broke away to finish packing. He snapped open a black trash bag, placed it on the floor and then dumped the contents of the drawer inside, trying his hardest not to look.

Books took up the bottom shelf of the bedside table. He pulled the first one out. The Kama Sutra. Figured. He tossed it onto a box. The next book was on the techniques of tantric sex. In the box. The next one…another on tantric principles. Toss. How to Heighten a Woman’s Pleasure. Good grief, Olivia had shared an apartment with a certified nympho.

Almost everything in the bathroom was dumped in the trash bags. Used shampoo and soap. Toothbrushes and paste. Hair products. A jumbo box of condoms with only two foil packages left. Feminine products. He wondered if he should save those for the shelter and decided to add them to their box. They could discard them if it was inappropriate.

A hair dryer, makeup mirror and rug were placed in the donation boxes. He tossed all of the used towels and rags in a trash bag, but added them to the donation box. They were in good shape and after being washed, could be used again.

Olivia brought clothing she no longer wanted and added it to the boxes. Once they were full, Alex taped them up and scribbled the name of the organization they would be going to on top.

A sharp rap sounded and then Sawyer entered. He’d dropped them off earlier and went for more packing supplies. He wheeled the materials inside. “I’ll tackle the kitchen.”

Olivia pointed out which things were hers and what should be donated. Once Alex finished with Darla’s bedroom, he helped with the plates and glasses.

“So, did you find the naughty drawer?”

Alex fumbled a glass and almost dropped it.

Sawyer’s smile was broad. “You did.”

“How did you know about it?”

“I worked a lot of crime scenes during my career.” He removed a plate and wrapped it with newspaper before stacking it in the box. “Almost every single one had a naughty drawer.”

“Well, Darla had a doozy.”

“What did you do with the contraband?”

“Boxed it up for the women’s shelter. I figured once the women were settled, they’d want to take out their frustrations on the male population by hacking up a few penises.”

Sawyer’s jaw dropped open. “You did not.” Alex grinned and Sawyer chuckled.

The intercom buzzer sounded. Alex padded over to the panel by the door. “Yes?”

“Mr. Mylonas? It’s Marnie Dobbs from Hope Shelter.”

“Hi Ms. Dobbs. We’ve got the boxes ready. Come on up.” He pushed the button to unlock the main door and then propped open the one to the apartment.

“Knock, knock.” A woman with short, spiky red hair stuck her head inside. “Mr. Mylonas?”

“It’s Alex. Come in.”

Two men with dollies followed and they loaded up the boxes. After hauling them to their truck, they returned to load up Darla’s box spring and mattress. The third trip took the couch that Olivia no longer wanted, saying something about having Arlo’s butt prints embedded in the cushions.

Olivia was keeping a table and chair set and the bookcases from her room, along with her bed. The movers they hired to transport her things arrived and her boxes and furniture were loaded and carted away. Olivia called Faye, who would open the apartment for them to deliver the items.

Three men arrived from the veteran’s organization to pack up the remaining furniture and boxes. As they moved a table by the door, a flash of color caught his eye. Alex picked up the postcard from Olivia’s mentor Ernie Walters. Ernie had been a national icon, serving as the nightly news anchor for decades. He switched to a local New York affiliate for the last few years of his career but he was still as beloved. He flipped it over and smiled. Ernie visited the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame but said it was nothing compared to The Grand Ole Opry. He started to put the card down but something caught his eye. His eyes narrowed. He padded to the counter where Olivia placed her mail earlier.

“What’s up,” Sawyer asked.

“I’m not sure.” He found the other post card and flipped it over. His heart thumped hard. “Take a look at these.” He handed the cards to Sawyer, who studied them intently.

“That’s strange,” Sawyer said, noting the same discrepancy Alex discovered.

Olivia came back into the room. “What’s up?”

Alex held up the postcard. “I found this behind the table by the door.”

She smiled and grabbed it. “Ohio. I wondered what happened to this one. I figured the post office lost it. Darla must’ve tossed it on the table and it fell behind.” She read the back with a grin.

“What did you do with all the other postcards?”

“They’re in my bag. Why?”

“Can I see them?”

Olivia’s brows furrowed. “Sure.” She grabbed her purse off the floor and pulled out the stack of postcards rubber-banded together. Alex took the bundle and removed the bind. He placed them picture side down on the counter.

“Sonofabitch,” he and Sawyer muttered at the same time.

“What is it?”

“Do you notice anything strange about these?” He pointed to the cards. She scrunched up her nose and shook her head.

“No, what?”

“Look at the postmark.”

Olivia squinted closer and then her eyes widened. “Oh my God. It’s the exact same.”

#

Olivia picked up two postcards to compare, then dropped one and chose another and then another. Most were smudged so you couldn’t read the city but it was obviously the same mark. She sat down hard and held up a handful of postcards. “What does this mean?”

“It could mean nothing,” Alex hedged.

“Or…”

“Or it could mean that he’s not on a cross-country trip.”

“But the postcards…”

“There’s a shop in Times Square where you can buy one from every state,” Sawyer informed them.

“Why would he do that?”

Alex grabbed her hand. “The only reason I can think of would be if he needed an alibi.”

Olivia jumped to her feet. “What? Why would Ernie need an alibi?”

Sawyer cleared his throat and looked up from his phone. “Did you know that Ernie’s wife died a few weeks ago?”

Olivia nodded. “That’s what prompted him to retire and travel. He and his wife always planned to do it. She had an accident and was in a care facility. He didn’t like to talk about her, he said it was too painful. Someone told me she’d been in a coma for a while.”

“Do you know what happened to leave her comatose?”

Olivia shook her head. “Like I said, Ernie didn’t like talking about it.”

“They kept this out of the news, but she was mugged. When she refused to let go of her purse, the mugger struck her in the head with a closed fist, causing her to fall and bash her head against the concrete sidewalk.”

Olivia’s hands covered her mouth. “Oh, God. I had no idea.”

“They arrested a man for the crime—a tweaker—and they even found her purse in his apartment, but during the trial, his court-appointed attorney argued that his fourth amendment rights were violated with an illegal search and seizure.”

Dread pooled in her stomach. “So he got away with the crime,” Olivia murmured.

“And now there’s a Vigilante taking justice into his own hands,” Alex said.

She shook her head. “It’s not Ernie. He wouldn’t do something like this. He is not a killer.”

“The woman you love is beaten into a coma and dies a long, slow death.” Sawyer shook his head. “Her passing could be the trigger.”

“But how would he do it? He’s in his late sixties.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Alex said. “Ernie’s famous, a fixture on television for decades. He’s non-threatening. He could walk up to someone and say he wanted to interview him for who knows what reason, and the person would go with him because he’s not a threat.”

“Then he knocks them out with chloroform, ties them up and forces them to confess their crime,” Sawyer added.

“And he wants the confession aired but the only person he trusts to do it justice is his protégé,” Alex said softly

“Me.” Olivia’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want it to be Ernie, but he knows my cell number and my address and where I work out.”

“He has to have access to your apartment building, too. He hand-delivered the postcards.”

An image popped into Olivia’s head. “Mr. Dawson, the blind man. He moved in a few weeks ago, but I’ve never gotten a look at his face. He never makes eye-contact.”

Sawyer’s gaze was filled with compassion. “Dawson was his wife’s maiden name.”