Stalking The Phoenix Part 18

"You let the workmen in?"

"Geoff asked me to. The alarm people are supposed to be here, shortly."

I smiled at the younger woman. "We appreciate everything that you've done."

"No problem. No problem at all. Are you going to bring Geoff home?"

"In a while, Ed Roby said that he should be able to leave there about three. There were some tests that they wanted to run which they wouldn't have the results of until about two."

"You look tired."

"It's been a long few weeks."

"Yeah ... I can understand that."

"I'm going upstairs to take a short nap before I go to the hospital to pick up Geoff.

Wake me in thirty minutes?"

"Sure thing. By the way, you got a couple of big boxes UPS from 'Monsignor' in Chicago. They are in the dining room."

"Thanks, Connie. I'll tend to them later. Right now, I'm so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open. I'm going up to take a short nap."

There was a message written on my dresser mirror in lipstick, bright red lipstick. "Now you lay you down to die, hope the Lord up in the sky, exists and takes you home on high."

I screamed.

Twenty minutes later, sitting in the living room, I was still shaking. The tremors were

not particularly noticeable until a person looked at my hands.

"Al?" Phil asked as he walked into the room.

"He's been here again, Phil. In the house."

"I heard. You are coming home with me, until the alarms get installed. You and

Geoff both."

"That's probably for the best."

"We'll pick Geoff up on the way."

"He hates being kept waiting."

"He never was a patient man," Phil replied in a half-amused tone.

"He's more patient than you know," I added, falsely thinking that I was using a voice Phil couldn't hear. The expression on his face told me only too clearly that he had heard.

We settled Geoff into the bedroom on the first floor that in previous years had been the housekeeper's room. The pain medication Geoff had been prescribed made him quite drowsy. Letting him sleep, Phil and I left the back bedroom and made our way to the kitchen.

"Herb tea?" Phil asked.

"Only if you promise not to spike it."

Phil smiled sheepishly. "When did you figure that one out?"

"It wasn't hard. There's a reason that I don't drink much. I don't have any head for the stuff. Thinking back on last night, your lacing the tea with alcohol is the only logical reason why I behaved as I did."

"You've nothing to be ashamed of, Al."

"Don't I?"

"Are you angry with me?"

"I should be. Somehow, I just can't summon that emotion. Right now, I am having a difficult time feeling anything. I'm just numb. And I think that's very dangerous. I ought to be feeling something, anything. I don't like feeling this numb."

"Numbness is nature's way of blunting pain when it is too intense to deal with," Phil said as he touched my face. "Just relax a little and try not to worry about it."

"That's just it, Phil. I'm not worried. That concerns me. A little tension can be a lifesaver. I think that I've pa.s.sed beyond fear into acceptance, almost complacency. That could be fatal."

Phil looked at me for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly.

I should have pulled away from him. But, instead, I merely relaxed in his arms, burying my face in his chest, and leaning on him for comfort.

A long moment later, I eased myself out of his arms. "Thanks, Phil. I needed that. Thanks for being my friend."

"I'll always be your friend, Al," he pledged. "Always."

"I don't know what I did to deserve all the friends whom I have."

"Saddled with us all for your sins, perhaps?"

I laughed until the sound became harsh and tears rolled down my face.

Sitting at the small, antique oak kitchen table, drinking cinnamon and rose hip tea while Phil enjoyed his coffee, I asked, "Has any progress been made on catching Hernandez?"

"None at all. We've circulated his photo to all the motels and boarding houses in the county. He's not checked in to any of them. There is no record of his having flown into any of the close by airports."

"But, then again, no one would have really expected him to have been traveling under his own name. Not especially after he went to all the effort of faking his own death."

"I put out some inquiries into that," Phil said.

"And?"

"Seems that Hernandez managed to take out almost two million dollars in life insurance about four years before his death in Mexico. From what I can gather he bought quite a few of those term policies which are offered over the television and issued through the mail. Most of the companies paid the claims without batting an eye."

"Four years. He was obviously planning this for quite a while."

"If he had staged his death during that first year or two, all sorts of red flags would have gone up at the head offices of the insurance companies. But, by waiting, the claims went through with no problems."

I sighed. "Who was the beneficiary?"

"His mother."

"I don't suppose that someone could subpoena her financial records to see if she still has the money?"

"Might be able to, if she was still alive. But Maria Hernandez died seven years ago."

"Then who collected the checks?"

"Maria Hernandez."

"This doesn't make any sense, Phil."

"Someone posing as Maria Hernandez cashed all of the checks."

"I don't suppose that anyone remembered what she looked like?"

Phil just looked at me with an expression that asked, "What part of the galaxy did you say that you hailed from, anyway?"

"Quite a scam. So, even counting his living expenses and overhead, he's wandering about with well over a million dollars in his war chest. That's an awfully large amount of money for a man bent on vengeance," I stated as a wave of pure misery spread over me. "That kind of money can buy an awfully lot of silence and looking the other way."

Phil sipped his coffee without comment.

I uttered an uncharacteristically coa.r.s.e epithet as I rose from the table and walked over to the kitchen window to look out on the sunny spring afternoon.

I stood looking out the window. I knew that he had to almost feel the anger radiating from me. Already, the Hernandez had hara.s.sed me unmercifully, possibly killed a girl for whom I had taken responsibility, probably stolen my car, become the chief suspect in the demolition of my house, and definitely put my fiancee in the hospital. The anger I felt, and which was threatening to overwhelm me, was a much healthier emotion than the emptiness I had been feeling earlier.

He rose from the table and came to me. He lightly touched my shoulder. "Al?"

Only then, did I realize that I was crying.

"Excuse me," I said. "I'll just go take a rest."

Gently, he turned me around to face him. Then he took me in his arms, allowing me to sob into his chest.

But this time, I stepped away from him. "I don't mean to be such a watering can," I said as I dashed the tears from my face. "I can't imagine what came over me."

"Can't you? You've been through more stress than a person should have to take. On top of that, you are pregnant. Either of those would tend to make a person tend towards being weepy. Both of them put together are a combination designed to render the most stable person a little out of control."

"I almost want him to make an open move. I want to come face to face with him.

Yet, I know that if that happens, I will probably do my best to kill him."

"Al, I understand."

"I know that you do. I'm not going to let him get off easily this time, if I come face to face with him. He's hurt too many people."

"Go take a nap. Use the same room that you had last night."

"Thanks. I think that I will."

I awoke to the sound of the doorbell. I looked at the clock at the bedside. 7:30 p.m. I looked at the clock again. I hadn't meant to sleep that long. Still, I had needed the sleep.

Pulling myself out of bed, I made my way to the bathroom. Quickly, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and straightened my hair before I started to make my way downstairs.

Phil was on the stairs. "I was just coming to get you."

"Why did you let me sleep so long?"

"Didn't you need the rest?"

"I guess that I did. Thank you."

Phil sighed. "Al," he began.

"What?"

"There are two FBI agents downstairs wanting to talk with you."

"FBI. What do they want?"

"To talk with you. Will you come down?"