Free Promissory Payback by Laurel Dewey Page B

told Carolyn ‘no.’” Laura looked at Jane with pleading eyes. “Don’t you see, Detective? She could go away on her cruise and never come home! And she would repeat the same criminal activities with someone else, in some other country. Guaranteed. ”
    â€œShe basically needed to die. Is that what you’re telling me.”
    â€œI think that’s an excellent way to put it.”
    â€œWell,” Jane said, “the guys back at DH are not going to believe this report when I write it up. It’s not a whodunit. It’s a who-didn’t-do-it.”
    Laura stood up, supporting herself on the kitchen table. “ I did it ! I put the drugs in her drink! I wrote on her with the lipstick! I put those shredded promissory notes in her mouth and taped it shut! And I finished her off by taping up her nose! I killed Carolyn Handel! Arrest me !”
    â€œDid you think that’s how it was going to work when all of you conceived this promissory payback kill? Let Laura take the fall?” Jane looked at Joe. “That’s not how it works, buddy. Everyone involved in this, including poor little Travis Wilde, is looking at conspiracy charges to commit murder. When a jury finds out that you’re the sole beneficiary of your aunt’s life insurance policy—” Joe suddenly stood
up, reaching into his inside jacket pocket. Jane released her Glock and extended it toward Joe. “Hey!” Jane yelled. “Take your hand outta there!”
    â€œI don’t have a gun!” Joe screamed. “It’s an envelope! You need to see it!”
    Still training the Glock on Joe, Jane nodded. “Move slowly and toss the envelope to me.”
    He did as she requested, revealing a letter-sized white envelope. Jane recovered it, holstering her Glock. She opened the envelope and found three signed checks on Joe’s personal account with no dates. There was one to Jacque Wilde, Charley P. Hall and Raymond Honeycutt, all for the amount of one hundred thousand dollars. “What in the hell?” Jane muttered.
    â€œMy aunt was worth three hundred grand dead. Exactly what she owed her investors. Somehow, I find that—”
    â€œIronic?” Jane suggested.
    â€œYeah. That’s for real, Detective. And that was my altruistic intention from the very beginning. Now . . . how do you think a jury is going to feel about that one?” Joe’s tenacious idealism suddenly reemerged. “And how about this: You have a twenty-eight-year-old guy who’s dying from a heart defect, a down-on-his-luck, Vietnam vet who’s a former P.O.W and a tortured man whose diabetes is literally eating him alive! Instead of being victims, they united against the oppressive tyranny and fought back! Oh, I think the jury is going to love that too! We’re living in strange times, Detective. Strange times , indeed. The canyon between the haves and the have-nots is so wide, and it’s growing. The natives have grown restless! You can smell revolution in the air. The old rules don’t apply any more.” He took a second and really looked at Jane. “And
I think you know that. I think you truly understand what I’m saying.”
    Jane couldn’t argue with the guy. If he wasn’t running a charity, he could have been a lawyer. Or a politician. Or the head of a commune. She couldn’t argue but she still made all the arrests. The tentacles of revolution may be spreading, but they hadn’t wrapped their limbs around this case. Not yet, at least.

CHAPTER 10
    A week later, about ten o’clock at night, she got a call from Sergeant Weyler that Laura had been admitted to the hospital. She was informed that the woman who looked so old was dying of Stage IV cancer and would likely be dead within three months, long before any trial took place. One more thing to move the jury; one more irony for Jane to add to the list. Jane figured it was all part of the