Witness to a Murder Read online

  WITNESS TO A MURDER

  Jon & Jean

  Hamilton-Fford

  Copyright © 2015 J Hamilton-Fford

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1500453080

  ISBN-13: 978-1500453084

  Dedication

  To our mothers, Louise and Madeleine.

  To our family and friends all over the world,

  Thank you for your tremendous support and encouragement!

  Jon and Jean Hamilton-Fford are a creative couple living the UK.

  They’ve written over 15 books. There are more to come!

  To find out more about them, please visit their websites at

  http://hamilton-fford.com

  http://jeanhf.com

  Table of Contents

  MURDER

  Witness

  Rota

  Peacock

  Party

  Carlos

  CRACKS

  Family

  Changes

  Slammer

  Roller Coaster

  Success

  Kids

  Resources

  New Friends

  MAYHEM

  Ascenscion

  Fire

  Questions

  2nd Date

  Escape

  DECEPTION

  The FBI

  Revelations

  Shifts

  New Life

  Enlightenment

  RESOLUTION

  Discovery

  Murray's Tale

  Opera

  PART ONE

  MURDER

  Witness

  A flurry of action grabbed my attention as I stood at the window of my hotel room. Thirty-three floors up in Manhattan afforded some roof top views. I was now firmly and clearly focused on the roof top a floor lower than my position across the street from my hotel.

  Three men jostled, gesticulated and exaggerated their movements. Faces contorted in disgust, anger and fear. Eyes widened, jaws tightened, hands clenched and backs straightened in defiant pose.

  BAM! One man punched another and he slumped onto the ledge.

  The remaining men exchanged looks and laughed. They slapped each other's back in congratulatory overtones as they began to walk away.

  Relieved that the extent of the harm was done, I looked more closely at the man slumped on the ledge. He was middle-aged and dressed in a suit. I wondered at his demise and how long he would be unconscious.

  My answer came when one man turned, walked quickly to the collapsed man and pushed him over the side of the building.

  I jumped and recovered my view to confirm what I had seen. Was it real? I focused the binoculars once again. My hands trembled. The murderer appeared in the lens. He looked my way and pointed towards my window.

  I had been seen!

  I moved away from the window and dropped to the floor. How could I have been so foolish? The sun must have glinted off the lens and drawn attention to my position. Now what was I to do?

  I threw the offending binoculars across the room and held my head in my hands. I needed to think. All I could see was the face of the murderer: contorted, enraged, surprised. His black eyes stared relentlessly in my direction. His sallow complexion was set, like stone, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand proud. A shiver ran up my spine like rats scurrying along sewer pipes. My stomach knotted and churned as the gravity of the situation hit me.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and rocked back and forth for a few minutes as my mind raced to catch up with all the possible scenarios I imagined.

  The phone rang and jolted me from my stupor. It screeched a demand to be answered. I crawled across the floor and picked up the receiver.

  'Hello.'

  Rota

  'Hello, is this Louise Deveraux?"

  'Yes,'I said. 'This is Louise Deveraux.'

  'Ms. Deveraux, why are you whispering? Are you okay?'

  I cleared my throat. 'Yes,' I replied. 'I'm okay. To whom am I speaking, please?'

  'This is Max Menotti's office.'

  I laughed. Hysteria took hold and the laughter bubbled over into sputtered and raucous utterances. Tears ran down my cheeks. I laughed even more.

  'Ms. Deveraux... Ms. Deveraux... are you sure you're okay?'

  'Yes,' I said. I wiped tears from my eyes and took a deep breath. 'I've had quite a day.'

  A knock on the door took my attention and the hair on my arms stood up. I hung up the receiver. The knock came again... a bit louder, more insistent.

  'Hello. Ms. Deveraux?'

  A woman's voice? I shook my head. I expected the murderer. A woman?

  'Ms. Deveraux? Louise?'

  The voice was strong and determined.

  I took a chance and peeked out the peephole in the door. A woman, smartly dressed, middle-aged, greyish hair with a strong, wan complexion and chiseled features looked at my door.

  'Who are you?' I asked.

  'Ms. Deveraux, my name is Rota... Rota Deale. Ms. Deveraux, I know you don't know me. If you'll open your door, I'd be happy to explain everything. Please?'

  Thoughts raced through my head. Perhaps she was an undercover cop? Perhaps she was a reporter wanting to know if I'd seen anything earlier?

  'Do you have any identification?'

  'Yes, Ms. Deveraux, I do. If you'd open your door, I can show it to you. Please, Ms. Deveraux. I am no one but a messenger and I have an invitation for you.'

  I opened the door wide enough to see her. Rota took one look at my tear-stained face and pushed the door wider.

  'Oh my, Ms. Deveraux,' Rota said. 'This just won't do.'

  I backed away a step or two. 'What do you want?'

  'My dear, dear Louise. I only want to help you.' Rota closed the door. 'Please, there is nothing to fear from me. I am here to deliver a message and an invitation. Why don't we sit?'

  I looked around and caught site of the divan in my room. Rota took my elbow.

  'Ms. Deveraux, let me explain. I am here to invite you to a gala event tonight. My employer is such a fan of your books and when Max told him you would be in town, he just had to throw a gala in your honor. What with the loss of your husband and now this dreadful accident you witnessed today... I'm sure this is just what you need to help you recover.'

  'Wait! Max told your employer. You know about my husband and the murder I saw today?' I asked. 'Just who are you and who is your employer?'

  I stood up. My head throbbed. My heart raced. Rota grabbed my hand and patted it with her other one. I yanked it away.

  'I want you to leave.'

  'Please, Ms. Deveraux. If I leave without you, I will be fired. I am a single mother and the only earner in my house. Look at me. I am old and no one would hire me. Please. Let me do my job and allow me to take you to this party.'

  I looked at her. She was right... no one would hire her.

  'Rota, is it?' I asked.

  'Yes, Ms. Deveraux.'

  'Rota, I am tired. I have nothing to wear. I have an appointment with Max this afternoon and I cannot go to this gala this evening. I'm sorry. You'll just have to give your employer my apologies.'

  'Louise, I understand. However, I promise that by the time this evening is over you will feel on top of the world! Your appointment with Max has been rearranged. I have instructions to supply all your needs and I intend to do just that. Now, grab your jacket and let's be off. We have a lot to do before tonight.'

  'Rota, you aren't listening, are you? I can't go. I am much too tired.'

  'I heard you. But I know that a facial, a mani-pedi, a massage and a great meal will completely energize and transform you. Appointments have already been made and we have just 20 minutes to make it to the first one. Please.'

&nbs
p; 'Really? I am, I think, too tired to argue. So what's first?'

  Peacock

  Reborn, I felt like a phoenix rising from the ashes. The massage, the facial, the mani-pedi were just what I needed to refresh and revitalize. Buffed, polished, moisturized and pampered, I felt renewed. We enjoyed a scrumptious, light afternoon meal and the limo was icing on the cake.

  Rota dropped me at the hotel with a reminder to 'be ready by eight and I'll be back to pick you up!'

  I floated up to my room on a cloud of complete bliss and found packages waiting for me. A knock on my door brought me back to earth and I looked through the peephole to see the porter. I opened the door and he handed me a package.

  'Ms. Deveraux, if you would sign receipt of this, please,' he said. 'It has been removed from the hotel's vault for you this evening.'

  'Oh?' I replied. 'What is it?'

  'I don't know, ma'am.'

  'It's all a mystery,' I said. I signed the receipt for him. I closed the door as he left and jiggled the package in my hands. It was a weighty, elegant and squarish package and no sound emitted from it.

  Giddy euphoria flooded my system. I felt like a kid at Christmas. I looked at the packages on the divan, the packages on the bed and the package in my hands. Which one do I open first?

  I ripped open the paper surrounding the package in my hands. It appeared to be a jeweler's box. I lifted the lid with care and peeked inside.

  A gemstone necklace and earring set greeted my eyes. Sparkling diamonds, sapphires, fire opals and sea foam green jade twinkled in the overhead lights. I sat down on the divan.

  The fragrance of beautiful white lilies, my favorite flower, wafted from the sideboard across the room. Inhaling the scent deeply brought back memories of a happier time. I caught my breath. A card beckoned to be read.

  'In honor of a brighter and more profitable tomorrow. In honor of you, these gifts are yours. I look forward to meeting you tonight. C'

  Carefully, I opened the other packages. A beautiful gown in midnight blue and trimmed in peacock colors was in one. There were rhinestones and fire opals down the bodice and they disappeared in the delicate fabric of the gown itself. It was heavenly.

  Another package contained the most delicate and intimate of apparel. Beautiful, yes, but I felt a little uncomfortable that someone I had never met knew so much about me, down to my bra and pantie size.

  Another package contained a pair of beautiful shoes. Not only were they beautiful, but they were in the correct size and, I noticed, flats as I don't wear heels.

  This was quite enough. Foreboding spread through me. I felt violated and ill at ease.

  A knock on the door caught my attention. I looked through the peephole and saw room service.

  'Ms. Deveraux?' a voice asked.

  'Yes.'

  'Room service, Ms. Deveraux.'

  I opened the door. 'I didn't order room service.'

  'Yes, ma'am. Compliments of the management, Ms. Deveraux.'

  'Really?' I asked.

  'Yes, ma'am. Shall I set it by the divan?'

  'What if I don't want it?'

  'Please, ma'am. I deliver, I don't return it.'

  'Thank you.' I said, as he opened the champagne.

  I lifted a silver dome as he left. Caviar on traditional blini enticed my senses and, under another dome, chocolate dipped strawberries tempted me to indulge. I could smell the saltiness and the sweetness. I realized that I hadn't eaten much since our late brunch and my stomach sang the song of hunger so I indulged. It was heaven.

  I looked up to see Jon smiling at me. I hadn't seen that beautiful smile in so long and I reached out to stroke his cheek. A loud rapping on the door startled me awake and I peered once more out the peephole to see who might be there this time.

  A young girl, maybe twenty-three, stood quietly.

  'Yes?' I asked.

  'Ms. Deveraux,' the girl replied, 'I'm here to help you prepare for this evening.'

  'This evening?'

  'Yes, ma'am.'

  I forgot all about this evening. I looked at my watch. Oh my goodness! It was already six o'clock and I had to be ready by eight. I must have slept for a couple of hours.

  'Ms. Deveraux.'

  'Yes, of course,' I said as I opened the door.

  Makeup, hair and dressing never went so seamlessly. Juanita was conscientious and inspired and gently squeezed all of me into that beautiful gown before clasping the necklace around my throat.

  'Wow!' she exclaimed.

  'Really?' I asked.

  Juanita shook her head yes and clasped her hands together in excitement at the creation before her.

  'Thank you, Juanita. You must accept a token of my appreciation.'

  'No, ma'am. I cannot. It is enough that you have permitted me to attend to your needs.'

  It was just before eight o'clock so we left the room and Juanita rode down the elevator with me to the lobby.

  I emerged to a busy, noisy lobby that became silent with each appreciative look as I strode towards reception.

  'Ms. Deveraux... Ms. Deveraux.'

  I stopped to see who was trying to get my attention.

  'Ms. Deveraux, thank you for stopping. I am the proprietor of this fine establishment and I would be honored if you would await Ms. Rota's arrival in my office.'

  He gently took my elbow and guided me towards the chamber.

  'You know Rota?'

  'Yes, Ms. Deveraux,'he said. He opened the door. 'Please make your self comfortable. Is there anything you require while you wait?'

  'No, I don't think so. Thank you.'

  'It is my pleasure, Ms. Deveraux. Should you need anything, please just press this button and I will be happy to assist.' He gestured to a blue button on his desk. He bowed slightly and left the room.

  I had been buffed and polished, wined and dined, dressed and trussed up and pampered so completely in the last twelve hours, I almost forgot about the murder. This all had to be a ruse. I felt blind and manipulated. I felt guilty for enjoying everything today, too.

  'Pull yourself together,' I said out loud to myself.

  I sat down and took a deep breath. That was better. Now, tomorrow I will see Max and go to the police about the murder. Murder? No articles in the paper and no news about it. Something wasn't right.

  Rota opened the door and stepped inside. 'You are so beautiful! Come now, my dear. The limousine is waiting and we have a bit of a drive before we arrive.'

  'A bit of a drive? Where are we going?' I asked as Rota ushered me out of the hotel.

  Party

  The lights of the city sparkled like jewels and they picked out the tinsel-like flecks and diamonds that adorned the dress. I must admit, I did feel like a film star, enchanted, just like Cinderella must have felt on her way to the ball. I was not exactly looking for a Prince Charming, but then I was not going to appear as if I belonged to the twin set and pearl crowd.

  I had no idea where we were headed. I don't know what I expected. I was not disturbed to see the grand mix of Mediterranean style villa and Neo-Classical architecture set at the end of a circular driveway. It must have cost a small fortune just to illuminate, lit up like a beacon in the night sky with its white stucco walls and wrought iron ornamentation either side of each arched window. To be honest, I even failed to notice the fortress-like gates we had driven through. Yet, once inside, the splendor of the décor was apparent.

  The main room downstairs rose from floor to roof and was lit by wrought iron elaborate chandeliers that glittered like jewels. The walls were decorated with some of the finest oil paintings I'd ever seen and hung in suitably heavy ornate frames. Ornamental wrought iron sconces and lanterns illuminated the paintings and set them off magnificently.

  The sheer expanse of the lower floor could easily accommodate a football pitch and then some and was surrounded by an open upper floor that hugged the walls, its weight suspended on white marble pillars. The upper floor was fringed with ornate wrought iron handrails. The s
taircase was a mix of colorful tiles decoratively greeting whoever ascended their steps. There were so many people here. The men were dressed in their black tuxedos and the women were dressed much the same as myself. I simply melted into the gathering.

  My eyes were on overload as I tried to drink in all that I witnessed. So many people greeted Rota, or just wanted to be noticed, as she introduced me. I needed to use the restroom firstly, to freshen up and secondly, to reassure myself that my newly found Cinderella status was not a dream. This was not happening, I was most definitely dreaming.

  Walking was an adventure in new shoes. From marbled and ornate tile to oases of carpet, I was amazed I could stay standing. Had it not been for my flat shoes acting like snowshoes, the carpet would have lapped at my ankles. It was so thick.

  'Yak hair, or so I believe,' a voice said.

  'Excuse me?' I asked. I turned around to see who was addressing me.

  'The carpet... I believe that it's made from Yak hair, probably from Peru,' he replied. 'Sorry, awful manners. Charles Fortesque from England,' he said. He held out a hand to shake mine.

  'Oh, right. Louise Deveraux from New Hampshire,' I replied. I shook his hand. 'I thought I recognized an English accent. Nice to meet you.'

  'Oh, jolly good show!' It seemed as if he was trying to shake my arm from its socket. 'Nice to meet a fellow Englishman... woman, sorry, Englishwoman.'

  'Actually, I'm an American, from NEW Hampshire, next to Maine, above Massachusetts.'

  'Oh really, how remarkable. We have a Hampshire... in England,' he replied.

  'Yes, I know.'

  'You probably stole it from us, the name that is.' He chuckled in a way that was indicative of the English upper class. It was more of a 'haw haw' than a 'ha ha.'

  'Well, we also have a Lebanon, but I hear it's a lot safer than Beirut,' I replied. I should probably have timed my quip more appropriately and not while he was taking a mouthful of champagne.

  'I am so profoundly sorry,' he said. He dabbed my naked shoulder with a monogrammed hankie.

  'I'm not made of sugar so I won't melt.' I held out my hand and he gave the handkerchief to me. I mopped up the drink that spattered my arm. He had erupted like a soda fountain. 'So why are you here, tonight?' I asked as I handed the handkerchief back to him.