Easy Innocence

Chapter 52

WHEN GEORGIA pulled up, the floodlights above the Walchers' garage flickered on. The lights cut irregular stripes on the grass, which was covered by a carpet of wet leaves. She parked in the semicircular drive. So far no one had followed her. She got out of the car and inspected the damage to her rear window. There wasn't much glass left, except in the corners, and the back seat was a blanket of glassy pellets.

She started toward the house, then slowed. Did she really want to confront Tom Walcher? Maybe she should turn it over to the cops. They could bring him in for prostitution. Question him about Sara's death, Janowitz's, his brother in law, Fred's. The attempts on her life, too. No. She'd come too far. She crossed over the fishpond and rang the bell.

Footsteps inside clacked. Her hand casually brushed the Sig and she moved to one side, just in case, but it was Andrea who opened the door. When she recognized Georgia, she scowled, and, without as much as a greeting, led her into the kitchen. A cup of steaming tea sat on the granite counter. A fruity aroma wafted through the air.

"Where is your husband?"

"Upstairs. In his office." Her face grew worried. "What are you going to do?"

"What happened to the meeting with Ricki Feldman?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Ricki might be in danger. I need to warn her."

"What are you talking about?"

"I told her about the 'expedited'clean-up on your brother's land. She's not happy about it. I'm sure that's why she called Tom."

"What do you think they'll do?" Andrea's expression was a portrait of fear.

Georgia glanced around the room, wondering the same thing. Then she heard a squeak from the hall.

Andrea's face went ashen. "It's Tom," she whispered. "If he finds you here..."

Georgia cut her off. "Why don't you let me worry about that?"

Her hand slipped to her holster, but before she could draw the Sig, Walcher burst in. He was clutching a .38. "Don't move. Either of you. And keep your hands where I can see them."

"Tom!" Andrea's face twisted in shock. "What are you doing? Put that down!"

"Do what I say, Andrea." Walcher's voice was ice.

Andrea raised her hands. He waved the gun at Georgia. "Now you."

Georgia slowly lifted her hands in the air.

His chin shot up toward his wife. "How did she get in here?"

Andrea didn't reply.

"You let her in." His eyes strayed to his wife's cup of tea. "Planning a tea party?" He took an angry step toward the counter.

Andrea shot a look at Georgia that was a silent plea for help.

Georgia cut in. "Walcher, come to your senses and put the gun down. Let's talk."

"I heard plenty of talk out in the hall. I have nothing to say to you." Walcher flicked his eyes to his wife. "Or you. I should have known you'd turn traitor. What did she promise you? A pass if you turned state's evidence? She can't do that, you know. She's only a PI."

Andrea wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I want both of you in the living room where I can see you." He pointed the gun at Georgia. "You first."

Georgia moved cautiously. So far he hadn't noticed the concealed carry. She was glad she was wearing the fisherman's sweater. Andrea followed Georgia, and Walcher brought up the rear. Georgia's shoes thudded across the marble floor, then grew silent as she hit the carpeted steps in the living room. She stopped a few feet from the picture window. The glass was beaded with rain, but their reflections were sharp against the blackness. How could she get to her Sig?