The Fifth Justice (Michael Gresham Legal Thrillers Book 10) Page 17
“No, I need an address. My husband’s name is Reno Rivera.” For as long as Chloe had lived at the house, she never knew the address. When Reno had taken her out to restaurants, she hadn’t bothered to pay attention. Why? Chloe didn’t want to get to there; she wanted to get away from there. She could have kicked herself when she realized what a dumbass she’d been not to learn the address, but there were other means. Always other means.
The clerk gulped from a coffee cup that said Adventures in Sleeping. She then keyboarded and waited. She looked up at Chloe. “Do you have proof you’re the wife?”
Chloe peeled off a hundred-dollar bill and slid it across the counter. “Will this do?”
Without a word, the girl recited the address Reno had given when he checked them in. Chloe had some doubts about the address, but it was all she knew to try.
“Write it down, please,” Chloe requested.
A minute later, she had her home address.
“You wouldn’t make that two hundred would you?” M Andrew asked.
Chloe kept her voice low but pleasant. “Why not?” She sent another Benjamin across the counter. “This one is to make sure you erase our home address. There’s a man who might come looking, and I cannot allow him to find me.”
“Done,” said M Andrew. “I’m erasing you in the system right now.”
“Then we’re even,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
She returned to the car and climbed inside. She passed the Post-It to Justin. “Can you find it?”
Justin keyed the address into the GPS. “Done,” he said in seconds. “Go there now?”
“Yes, but when we get there, don’t slow down. Just roll by and let me have a look.”
“You’ve got it.”
“But first I need the Madison County Coroner’s office. A quick stop there. Look it up, please.”
Justin drove them to the Madison County Coroner’s Office. He pulled up to the front curb and parked. Chloe clambered out with her walker.
Chloe studied the lobby directory. RECORDS was up one floor, so she found the elevator and punched 2.
Through the double doors, she lunged with her walker, and this time a young police officer held the door for her and smiled. She thanked him and beat him to the counter.
Behind the glass top, waited a young, nervous-looking man whom Chloe guessed was all of twenty-one years. He was popping gum with his protruding teeth and rubbing the palm of his right hand up and down his cheek, then studying the hand.
“Erasing yourself?” she asked with a smile.
He got it. “I am,” he said with a devilish grin. “I’m a cartoon character.”
“My name is Chloe Rivera, and I want to pay you two thousand dollars.”
The young man shot a look around. “Who do I have to kill?”
“Who I’m interested in is already dead.”
“That works even better,” said the clerk. “What comes next?”
She drew a deep breath. “I have a mean husband looking for me. He wants to kill me. I need you to help me make him believe I’m already dead.”
“You want me to put your name on one of our Jane Does, right?”
She smiled her best smile. “Exactly. And I want you to put this purse and my ID into her effects box.”
“I can do that. First, let me see the two grand. I’m particular about who I help commit fraud.”
She turned her back to the TV cameras overhead, reached inside her scrubs, and pulled out her wad. She counted out the two thousand and passed it across the counter. As she did this, the young guy made several quick entries into the agency computers and then reached across and took the purse that held her ID, driver’s license, and personal effects she would have with her.
“Wait five,” he said and disappeared out the back. She stood to the side and appeared to be busy reading the notices on the wall.
Minutes later, the clerk returned. He gave her a thumbs up and winked. “Done.”
“You have someone who fits my description?”
“She’s white, about your height. She staggered out of a nightclub into the street, and a car smashed into her. It damaged her facial features, and not even a picture was in the file, not of her face at least.”
She rocked back, smiling at her helper. “I could reach over and kiss you,” she said to him.
“I’m into MILFS,” he said. “Should we hook up?”
“No, it was just a figure of speech.”
“That’s cool, too. I want you to be happy. Two grand is a lot of money. I can go back to school this fall.”
“Oh, I’m happy. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. It’s not the first time I’ve done this.”
“It’s not?”
“That’s all I can say. I’ve said too much already.”
“Then we’ll leave it at that. One more thing. How long will it take me to get a death certificate for myself?”
“That will be in your file this afternoon. They’re good about signing off and getting customers moved out of here.”
“Then I’ll be back.”
“You don’t have to. You can access it online. Let me give you the password.”
“And I need a sheet of letterhead.”
“With the Coroner’s address and phone? I can do that.” He reached beneath the countertop and retrieved a sheet of paper. She accepted it from the clerk. He had positioned his body to block the CCTV camera overhead. Just like he’d said, he’d accepted bribes before.
“Anything else?”
“An envelope.”
He bent down and provided a new envelope with the coroner’s return address in the upper left-hand corner.
It floored her. This was even easier than she would have believed. She accepted the death certificate password written on the business card. Tucking it into her scrubs, she thanked her helper again and made her way out.
She pushed the walker back to the car as if she was walking the aisles buying cereal.
“Justin, I need an office for two hours. Any idea where we can rent one?”
“What’s it for?”
“I need to write a letter and mail it off.”
“Snail mail?”
“Yes.”
“So you need a computer and a printer? Is that all?”
“Yes.”
Justin keyed the destination into the GPS.
“There’s a library a few blocks over.”
“Done. Let’s go now.”
“We’re on our way.”
It was a seedy part of town, an area where it would be unsafe to go out walking at night. She was glad it was broad daylight when she followed Justin through the front doors. Since her muscles had ached, she was particularly relieved that the computers were at the front. She climbed up onto the stool, and Justin swung the screen around so it faced her. She brought up Word and a new document.
Chloe typed.
TO: SURVIVING SPOUSE OF Chloe Constance-Rivera
FROM: RONNIE MENENDEZ, MADISON COUNTY CORONER
SIR: YOUR DECEASED WIFE HAS NOW BEEN IDENTIFIED BY HER PERSONAL EFFECTS AND FINGERPRINTS ON FILE WITH THE ILLINOIS STATE BAR ASSOCIATION. HER REMAINS MAY BE COLLECTED AT THE MADISON COUNTY MORGUE, LOCATED AT 101 EAST EDWARDSVILLE ROAD, WOOD RIVER, ILLINOIS 62095. YOU MAY ALSO LOGIN TO OUR WEBSITE AT THE ADDRESS BELOW AND OBTAIN HER DEATH CERTIFICATE. USE THE PASSWORD FOLLOWING THE WEB ADDRESS.
IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS, PLEASE CALL THE NUMBER AT THE TOP OF THIS LETTER.
Next, Chloe printed the letter on the sheet of letterhead the counter clerk had provided and addressed the envelope to Reno’s PO Box.
She asked Justin to take her to the closest mailbox.
Reno wouldn’t see her coming. She touched the swollen lumps on her face where he beat her. They weren’t healing and going away like the doctors said they would. He’d marked her for life. And inside, he had done even worse damage to the person she was. She had been wracked with dread every night when
she had climbed into bed at the hospital, barely able to grab even fifteen minutes of sleep for fear he would find her while she was sleeping and rape and beat her. But this wasn’t just about her; it was also about her kids. Every day was bringing her closer to seeing them again. Now, to ensure their safety, Reno must die. This was a must before she returned to her children.
She told Justin to stop at a FedEx office. She had a copy of the Madison County Coroner’s Office letter delivered to Andrew Constance, Chicago. They guaranteed delivery before 10 a.m. the next day.
Then she was done.
Both husbands would believe she was no more. The deceit wouldn’t work once they checked her out against the coroner’s actual records and video, but it was enough for now.
Justin pulled into the Madison County Coroner’s parking lot and shut off the engine. It would be some time before Reno showed up, but he would show because he wanted a death certificate and he would come here for it. Then he would be followed.
There was great freedom in death.
Chapter 44: Reno Rivera
“I’m looking for my wife,” Reno Rivera said to the operator at the Madison County Coroner’s Office.
“Her name?”
“Chloe Rivera.”
“Have you called here before?”
“Yes, yesterday.”
“I thought I remembered that name. Yes, we have a Chloe Constance-Rivera.”
“Can I see her?”
“They cremated her. On someone’s orders.”
“Whose orders?”
“Let me look.” The woman moved off and then returned. “The signature is unreadable. But the name listed is Andrew Constance.”
There was a long silence before Reno continued. “Well, do you have unidentified bodies I could look at?”
“We always have bodies we’re trying to identify, yes, sir. It would be best if you brought us a picture of your wife. That way we have a face to compare.”
“Compare to a dead body?”
“A death photo.”
“All right. I’ll bring her picture. Can you show me the death photos?”
“Those are not for the public. Only law enforcement and county medical officials have access.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry, we can’t help more right now. Which is a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” he said and threw his phone against the wall. “Son of a bitch!” he cried. Across the table sat Niles, who was nursing a wine cooler and dodging cell phones.
“Easy, big guy,” Niles said, trying to calm his boss. “We’ll find her yet, Reno. Give me a picture, and I’ll run it by.”
“Son of a bitch!” Reno cried again. “That’s just it! I have no pictures of the bitch!”
“Who knew?”
“Why would I take a picture of someone I would only kill?”
“Don’t worry. Call the hospital and tell them I’m dropping by for a file photo. That’s all we need.”
“Good thinking,” Rivera said and retrieved his cell phone. He tapped the case; intact. He made the call when he returned to the table.
Niles finished his drink and headed out to his car, which left Reno alone in the motel at the table, arms crossed, imagining scenarios in which his wife, having been run over and left for dead, would wind up cremated before he could identify her.
He had been giddy with the news of her death. If she were, in fact, dead—and she was, according to the coroner—he had a big pile of insurance money coming.
His day brightened as if the sun had penetrated a heavy overcast just to please him.
He dialed his insurance agent. He cleared his mind, knowing he would play the part of the bereaved husband.
While he tried to hide the biggest smile of his life.
Chapter 45: Michael Gresham
It turned out that Essine never gave up.
One afternoon as I was up a ladder cleaning leaves out of my rain gutters, a taxi pulled into my driveway. A woman got out and turned toward me.
Verona. I all but slid down the ladder and hurried to pay the driver.
“Hello,” I said, unsure exactly how I should greet my wife. I didn’t want to frighten her or upset her, as the last time in Russia at the hospital. So I took her shoulder and encouraged her to come inside.
We walked into the foyer and she stopped. She turned to me and threw her arms around my neck. Then she kissed me deeply—the whole this-is-my-husband kind of kiss. I returned the feeling and the kiss.
“I missed you,” she muttered between hugs and kisses. “But I did it.”
“Did what?”
She set down her Aeroflot travel bag.
“I convinced them I knew nothing. I convinced them they had wiped my brain of everything American. God, the FSB hates Americans.”
“You remember me?”
“Of course I remember you. Where are the kids? Oh, school? Yes, of course. I’m starving. Do we have any Nina leftovers?”
Nina was our nanny. She cooked out of this world.
“We do. We have some ribs from last night.”
“Stand back, love. I’m headed for the kitchen. Follow if you must, but be careful you don’t let me get anything on you.”
She was back. Same sense of humor, same everything.
“Jesus, it’s good to see you,” I whispered. “You don’t know.”
She turned and placed her hands on her hips. “Yes, Michael, I know. Don’t say that again. Our thing is mutual.”
“Mutual.”
“We’re in love.”
“We are.”
“Now where are the ribs? I could eat the ass-end out of donkey.”
Chapter 46: Reno Rivera
Reno was gleeful to find he could get a death certificate online. So he followed instructions and now possessed a PDF of the certificate. He and Niles were camped out in a city limits Motel 6 since the cops had crashed the Express Holiday Inn and they had needed to find another place to stay. But even 2-star hotels had a printer in the office. He asked the motel office to print the document.
Two hours later, he was sitting in the office of his insurance agent, Ilene Morrison. Ilene got off the phone and waved Reno over to her desk.
“I was very sorry to hear about your wife’s death,” the agent said. “How are you holding up?”
“Up and down. Stop and start. Some days are better than others. Can you help me?”
She studied him with her dark green eyes. He got the immediate impression something was awry. Her look said there was more to come, and she replied to his request for help, saying, “I could have. At least until this morning. Let me show you what I received in today’s mail, Mr. Rivera.”
She withdrew a fawn-colored letter from her file and slid it across her desk. Dear Agent, it began. He read the rest. Then re-read it.
“Well?” said insurance agent Morrison. “Can you explain why I would receive a letter from your wife telling me she’s not dead? And the allegations? She says you tried to murder her! I’ve already called the police, Mr. Rivera, and they’re sending someone over. I trust you will wait to speak with them. I know you want to straighten this out as much as we do.”
Reno was on his feet. Without a word, he turned and fled the office, cursing as he went.
“Bitch!” he cried as he made his way back down the sidewalk toward his car. “Dirty, loser bitch!”
He jumped into the passenger seat and told Niles to drive.
“Where, boss?”
“Just drive!”
Niles pulled away from the curb and drove around the block.
“No, get the fuck away from here! The cops are looking for me already!”
“What happened?”
“The bitch is alive, and she wrote my insurance agent telling her so. They called the police.”
“I don’t get it. We couldn’t find her in any hospital. We know she did time in some hospital somewhere.”
“For sure, she did. Somebody took her in and registered her
under a fictitious name. They hid her from me!”
“Which means you’ve already got someone looking for you.”
“She said they were sending a detective to investigate. I have a feeling he may be in on this.”
“Maybe he hid her in the hospital.”
“Holy shit!” Reno exclaimed. “Do you suppose he’s been following us?”
“That’s possible,” said Niles. “I’m not surprised. I’m sure her husband’s been after her and making the cops search heaven and hell for her.”
“I’m sure he is, the bastard.”
“We need to head back to Chicago. We can’t stay here anymore. Besides, there’s no way they’re paying for her death now. No reason to stay around Alton.”
Rivera was nodding. “Agree. I’ve got my laptop in the back. We leave everything else and head out now.”
“Yes, I’ll stop for gas and then keep heading north. What about your place in Chicago? Anyone have that address?”
“No, no. Unless her husband has located it. That’s always possible, the bastard. He’s very persistent, Niles. Very.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“We hit him? And his kids? Payback for this bitch screwing me out of five million dollars? She’s got it coming.”
“We know his house. I say we make it our first stop.”
“Heat?”
“Berettas in the trunk. Four boxes of ammo. Way more than we‘ll need.”
“Be prepared.”
“Exactly.”
They took state Route 140 over to Interstate 55 and headed north. Chicago was four hours away. Andrew Constance’s home was thirty minutes beyond. But Reno reckoned they would need to get to his own Chicago motel first, get things moving there with the girls and their dates to get the cash flowing.
“How do you nail the woman?” Niles asked once they were on the freeway. “Shoot her rug rats? That’ll bring her running.”
Reno considered, tapping his finger on his lips. “No, we’ll grab one. That will bring her running.”
“So, let me get this straight. She dies, and the insurance claim is still good for the five million or what?”