The Elusive Jillian Wilson (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 2
Jill was not small chested. Some might call her breasts huge, but she knew that a thirty-eight double D was not huge. The rest of her body stayed at a size fourteen no matter how much she dieted or exercised. She was comfortable with her body even if there were times she wished she could fit into some of the more slinky dresses that the size twos could fit into. Right now she wished for a flat chest instead of those breasts encased in the bloody bra. If she took it off, then she would have nothing to wear to cover herself. Not that the bra covered or hid much, but still.
Jill soaked one of the hand towels next to the sink and pumped several squirts of soap onto the hot towel then began scrubbing her skin. There was nothing she could do for her hair, but at least her face, hands, and arms were almost free of blood, and her legs were the last to be cleaned. When she stood up to look at her face, a pale-skinned stranger stood there. Her blonde hair was streaked with brown, and she wore no makeup. Her hazel eyes had no white left. Instead the white was now red from crying and emotional trauma.
Jill looked around and saw a button-up sweater hanging on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. Beatrice must keep it there for those days when she was chilly, Jill thought. The sweater was a bit tight across her chest and the arms were short and also tight, but it would have to do. At least it covered her breasts, and that was all that really mattered to her.
When Jill slipped out of the bathroom and stepped into the reception area, it seemed like wall-to-wall people had converged into the room. She made her way to the hall door and went to the elevator, luckily catching it as the reporters and cameras stepped out of it. One man grabbed her arm and asked her if she saw anything, and she shook her head no. If the man had actually looked at her he might have gotten a better look at her blood-speckled hair and legs but he was in a hurry and she was heading into the elevator as he was rushing out. He dropped her arm, and she thankfully got a solitary ride to the street level of the building.
Getting out of the elevator was the hard part. People and equipment started loading on as she tried to get out. Jill barely made it out of the elevator before the doors closed. No one paid any attention to her as she walked out of the building and the two blocks to the parking garage where her old Chrysler minivan waited for her.
Chapter 2
When Jill got back to the apartment that she shared with Kelly, she yanked the clothes from her body and threw the bloody shoes and all the rest of her clothing in the trash. The only item she kept was Beatrice’s sweater. She walked naked through the apartment, dodging the boxes containing her possessions, and into the bedroom that was still hers for another week.
After gathering jeans and a soft T-shirt, Jill stood under her shower, letting the hot water pour down her body and drain away the bloody remains of her day. Now she had even more problems, since the prospect of working for Oliver International was probably out until he recovered or someone else took the reins of the company. By the time that happened, she would be long gone.
When the shower had done its work, Jill went to the little kitchen and opened a can of soup and grilled a cheese sandwich for her dinner. It was early, but she knew that her day was shot and had no plans to leave her quiet nest. She booted up the computer that she had bought brand-new just after high school. It was old and really needed to be replaced, but it still worked for what she needed, so it stayed.
Jill typed a complete statement of her recollection of today’s events. She described Melody and even included the way the woman dropped the wallet and spit on the body of Vince Oliver. Reliving the episode was cathartic, and she quoted each of the people involved as much as she could recollect. She blushed when retelling the reasons Melody gave for shooting Vince Oliver and tried not to think about a man tying her down to have a bit of play during sex.
While quoting Vince’s responses and taunts, all Jill could do was grit her teeth as she recalled the way the young man refused to shut his mouth. He didn’t deserve to die like that, but as far as Jill was concerned, he should learn a few lessons from today’s events.
“I left because I was not needed at the scene of the crime any longer. I am certain that there was more than enough evidence to prove what happened. I was mentally tired and the cameras and media became too much for me. Hopefully this statement will clear up any questions regarding my involvement in this matter. I hope Mr. Oliver recovers quickly and without any lasting effects of his ordeal.”
She signed it simply “Jill.” She did not want to get caught up in some big investigation and have reporters and cops camped out on her doorstep right now. There were more important things for her to decide that involved her own future.
Before Jill went to bed, she hand washed the sweater and hung it to dry. Then she cleaned out her fridge and cupboards and finished packing her belongings. The printer chugged out the copies of her statement and a quick note for Beatrice. Jill addressed the envelopes after finding the district attorney’s office in the phone book and used the last three stamps she had to make sure that the mail would be delivered.
She woke up at three in the morning and knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep. The decision to move and get on with her life was made sometime during the night, and she couldn’t say she regretted it too much now. Jill stripped the bedding and washed it while she began carrying the boxes containing her lifetime accumulation of possessions to the trusty minivan. She had no furniture to speak of except her bed and the folding card table and chairs that held her computer. Her mattress and box spring sat perfectly over the top of the boxes and the lone suitcase with a few changes of clothing and personal stuff.
She checked to make sure she had everything from the apartment and cleaned it to a spotless shine before leaving the key on the kitchen counter and locking the door behind her. The bag of garbage went into the hopper just as the trash truck turned toward the apartment’s dumpsters, so the food from the fridge would not have a week to rot and stink up the area. Jill had one more stop before she could head out of town on her own to find what life would offer her this time.
The post office had several ways to mail the sweater to Beatrice, and Jill ended up laying it in a small box and paying the cost for someone to deliver it five blocks away. The letter to the district attorney was put into the mail slot outside of the office, and Jill was on her way.
* * * *
Vincent Oliver was pissed. He was more than pissed, and if his spoiled nephew was not lying in a hospital bed right now, then he would have been soon.
Vince’s attorney called and told him that they finally had a reliable witness statement and that he was not sure Vince needed to read it.
“It is the woman that called 911 and then tried to keep your nephew alive. She wrote out a statement for the prosecutor and mailed it in. The surprising part is they have no idea who she is. The cops at the scene remember her sitting in the chair behind the desk, and then no one remembered what happened to her. Hell, Vince, I have seen pictures of her body now, and I can tell you that a set of tits like that covered in blood are not that hard to notice.”
Vince told Haney to meet him at the office as soon as he could get there. “I want to read her statement and go over the entire folder you have on this Melody.”
Vincent Oliver’s plane had landed an hour ago. He was not in a good mood when he was met at the airport by two of the paparazzi waiting around hoping to catch some celebrity flying into town to get pictures of them without makeup and designer clothes. He had made it out of customs and was waiting for his towncar when they spotted him.
The newest scandal was more important than who was wearing what, so they came running his way. Did he know the woman that fell to her death in his building? No comment. The same answer to all their questions didn’t stop them from asking other more invasive questions that he just shook his head about. “I just flew twelve hours to get here to find out what happened. I know less than you guys do.” Thankfully his car pulled up, and he got inside while the reporters snapped pictures of the
car, the driver, and even the cases being loaded into the trunk.
Vince was damn tired. And he wanted to wring his nephew’s neck. Slowly. That Peter Pan wannabe was going to be surprised when he got the news about his future. Vince was looking forward to it. Hopefully his sister would be there so he could get the message through to both of them at the same time. First he needed to know exactly what happened three days ago.
He walked into the building, and several heads turned his way. He ignored them and went directly to the private elevator that would take him to the top floor where his offices were located. Taking out his key card, he inserted it in the slot and then pulled it out as quickly as the doors swished open.
He did not see the burly security guard bearing down on the reporter with his cell phone recording Vince’s picture and movement. He didn’t see the way some of the women fanned themselves as he walked by.
Vince was a man on a mission to find out what the hell had gone on in his building, and he would have answers or someone was going to be very unhappy by the end of the day.
Beatrice was happy to see him, and he gave her a rare smile. “Hey, boss man, nice to see you.” She grinned at him and then looked away. Vince pulled her into a hug and then led her into his office. The new carpet looked good.
When he poured two short glasses of whiskey and handed one to Bea, he simply asked her, “What happened, Bea?”
Beatrice was his long-employed secretary in this part of the world. She was in her late fifties and looked maybe forty. The day he hired her, she told him about her son who was a twenty-year-old boy with Down syndrome. Over the years Vince had met the young man several times and even bought the kid presents in his travels. One year he gifted Bea with a small house, and two years later when he found out that her car was headed for the junkyard, he bought her a Prius so she could get Dustin to the doctor appointments, school, and then drive to work. He admired the woman and considered the gifts as money well spent. He had a happy, loyal employee, and she had less to worry about at home so she could concentrate on his business.
“I had to leave, the school called and told me that Dustin was running a temp, and they really thought he needed to go to the doctor. I really have no idea what happened. There was a girl that wanted to talk to Mr. Oliver about a cleaning contract that she wanted to apply for. I wrote down the name Jill, but I was in such a hurry…I left her to fill out the normal paperwork we give to all potential contractors, and I can’t remember if I told her you would not be back until the beginning of the next week or not.” Beatrice had tears in her eyes when she looked up at Vince. “I am so sorry. Dustin has not been well for the past month, and I…I took him to the doctor, and he says that Dustin’s heart is failing.”
Bea clasped her hands together and kept saying how sorry she was not to have been here. “Your nephew always likes to show up, playing the important man. I don’t know what happened, Vincent, I was not here. I just don’t have answers. That girl Jill took my sweater when she left the building, and she sent it back to me in the mail. I got it today, all freshly laundered. Her note said that she was sorry for borrowing it without my permission but that her blouse got used to bind Mr. Oliver’s shoulder and leg. Then she asked that I please forgive her. She seems like such a nice girl.”
Vince looked at his desk and saw a file folder with bloody fingerprints over it. He picked it up and discovered the monthly building security report inside.
Bea explained that she figured the girl had used it to hide her face from the cameras and such because Bea found it in the bathroom.
“I was shocked when the police knocked on my door that evening.”
Bea went back to her domain, and Vince sat nursing his whiskey. When Haney finally strolled into the room, Vince was beyond ready to kick his nephew’s ass back to California.
* * * *
Haney knew that look. Instead of talking, he opened his case and dropped a thick folder and a bundle of pictures on the desk in front of Vince then went to the bar and poured himself a drink. Then Haney walked out of the door to continue his pursuit of the pretty office manager, Beatrice. Maybe she would take pity on him for once and let him take her to lunch. She fascinated him with her refusal to go out with him. Women normally jumped at the chance to be the one to finally lure the well-to-do attorney to the altar. Not Bea, she was impervious to his money and charms. Haney was confident that he could wear her down and gave her his most innocent smile.
Chapter 3
Vincent read and then reread the neatly typed witness’s account of the attempted murder of his nephew. Now he knew what happened and wondered about this woman Jill. He picked up the pile of still photographs and saw the blood covering the woman’s body taken from a video the police cameraman had taken. All he could see was the bloody hands with long rivulets trailing down her forearms and the bloody bra holding a truly beautiful set of breasts.
The file folder was hiding her face, and Vince really wanted to see that face. From her account, it was a surprise that she bothered to try to help Vinny. The boy had taunted Melody with the facts of the relationship. And to top it off, he obviously had been posing as his uncle until the woman shot him.
The quote at the end just before Melody walked out was classic. “If I wasn’t out of bullets, I would fill your dead ass with more holes.” That was priceless. Vince knew the feeling.
He went to the door to call Haney back in and saw him hanging over Bea’s desk. “Haney, stop ogling my assistant and come in. We have things to discuss.
Once the door shut, Vince told Haney in no uncertain terms to leave Beatrice alone. “She has a kid that has Down syndrome, and the young man is sick. If you know anything about the severe cases of the syndrome, then you know that they are fragile healthwise. Dustin is thirty-two, and his heart is failing rapidly. The guy is fun to hang out with, and we play video games when he comes to the office and I am here. He is a good kid, and she would trade places with him in a minute if she could. So I am asking you not to fuck with her. She doesn’t need a guy like you to fuck with her head or heart like you do with your normal bedmates. If you have an ounce of decency, you will keep your hands off.”
Haney had no idea that Bea was old enough to have a kid thirty-two years old. His own sons were in their mid-thirties, but for whatever reason Bea having a child never crossed his mind. The thought took a minute to sink in, and then the Down syndrome thing came into the picture. Yes, she certainly didn’t need someone like him in her life. The thought depressed him.
Haney put thoughts of romancing the enticing Beatrice from his mind. Or at least kept her in the back corner. He had to concentrate on what Vince was saying.
“I read over the file and agree, that chest is a thing to remember even without the little bastard’s blood on her bra.
“Now I have something important to have you draw up today if possible. I want it signed, and I need two notarized copies ASAP. Then file it with the court immediately.”
Haney was not surprised at the instructions as he wrote them down. “You want to disinherit Vinny and his mother, your sister?”
“Those two have been fucking leeches since they came back from California. Now I have proof that the little bastard has been impersonating me, trying to fool people into believing I would do the shit he tried to do as me. I will give them the mansion in Los Angeles and a million dollars apiece. They can live a good life if they try to curb their own spending.”
Vincent leaned over and hit the button to tell Bea that he needed her and watched as she came into the office with an inquiring look.
“Bea, I want you to take care of a few things today before you leave if you have the time. The lines of credit that have Vinny’s or Brenda’s name anywhere associated with them, close the credit cards out as of today. If Oliver International or my personal information is on a line of credit that either of them use, close it. And if, as I suspect they will try to do, they use my name or information, I will prosecute them. I want them off th
e insurance policies, including vehicle insurance. And send someone over to get Vinny’s newest use of my money, that silver Jag, out in the back parking lot. Have them take it to the fleet and make sure they change the locks.”
Bea typed away on her notepad while Vince was talking. She privately thought that Vince should have done something to wean Vinny and his mother from depending on him for every dime they spent years ago.
Unfortunately it took something so horrible as a death and a near murder to force Vince to act.
“When the hospital discharges him, the health care stops. No more fucking pills for Brenda and her condition or whatever the fuck she pretends to have. Let’s face it, she is a damn drug addict. She can buy her poison on the street just like the other vagrants.”
As Bea nodded and smiled at Vince, Haney felt slighted. She didn’t even look his way as she left the room.
“Look, Vince, I know you are not a fan of the family, but if you don’t spell it out pretty good, the court could modify the will if your blood relatives contest it.”
Vince laughed a low bitter sound. “Blood? No, Haney, my sister is the kind that came into the family at the tender age of fourteen when my father married her mother. She was sixteen when she found out she was pregnant and tried to blame me. She told my father that I took advantage of her.