Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [57]
“Thank you,” Derek said.
For the life of her, Maleah couldn’t thank this slimy old bastard, not even when he had given them their first real lead in their case.
“I want to know why you’ve got Tyrell following me everywhere I go,” Shontee screamed at Tony. She was angry and hurt because she thought he didn’t trust her. What had she ever done to make him think that she would betray him in any way? “Damn it, tell me why! I have a right to know why you believe you can’t trust me.”
“Stop your bitching, woman.” Tony tried to grab her by the shoulders, but she jerked away from him and planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t act like this.”
Shontee’s bottom lip trembled. Tears pooled in her eyes.
“Baby, I can’t stand seeing you so upset.” He held open his arms. “I trust you. I swear I do. I’ve had Tyrell following you to protect you.”
Shontee swallowed and then swiped the teardrops from her eyelashes. “Protect me from what? From who? Has somebody you do business with threatened you?”
Tony shook his head. “Nobody would dare threaten me.”
“Please, tell me—”
“Just wait here,” he said as he walked across the room to his wall safe hidden behind a sleek platinum-framed mirror.
She waited, nervous and uncertain, as Tony opened the safe, reached inside, and pulled out several plain white envelopes. He closed the safe and turned to her. What was in those envelopes? Photos of her from the past?
When she stared at the envelopes, he held them out to her. “They’re pretty much identical, all four of them. You know my assistant opens all our mail and—”
“I know, I know.” She grabbed the envelopes out of his hand.
“You’ve received a letter each month, starting in late December. The fourth one arrived this past Saturday.”
Her hand trembled. “Why did you keep these from me? Why hide them away in your safe?”
“Read one of them,” Tony told her.
She dropped three of the envelopes down on the armchair near where she stood, then inspected the one she held in her hand. Her name stood out against the stark white background. There was no return address, only a Knoxville, Tennessee, postmark. Slowly, cautiously, she eased the single typed page from the envelope, unfolded it and read the brief note.
Midnight is coming. Say your prayers. Ask for forgiveness. Get your affairs in order. You’re on the list. Be prepared. You don’t know when it will be your turn. Will you be the next to die?
“Oh my God!” She released her hold on the letter and let it float down onto the floor. “Tony?”
When he held open his arms this time, she raced into the comforting embrace he offered.
“Now you understand why I’ve had Tyrell keeping a close watch over you whenever I’m not around. Somebody is threatening you, baby, and I haven’t been able to find out who the motherfucker is.”
Etta Muro handed Travis Dillard a large manila envelope, then turned and shook hands with Maleah and Derek. The woman was at least six feet tall, rawboned, darkly tanned, and sported a short, spiked haircut. She wore billowy beige gauze pants and a matching blouse. A large gold and turquoise pendant hung from a leather chain around her neck. Maleah guessed that she was close to sixty and one of the few women in the LA area who hadn’t had cosmetic surgery, although she kept her hair dyed a bright reddish orange.
“We appreciate your meeting with us,” Derek said, offering the woman his charm-the-birds-from-the-trees smile. The only problem was that this particular bird preferred her own sex, so his machismo was totally lost on her.
“Travis told me that this involves a murder investigation, that somebody killed Woody and Hilary and our sweet Charlie.” Etta shook her head. “Now, who’d do something like that?”
“What’s in here?” Travis held up the large overstuffed envelope.
“Fan letters that we received about Midnight Masquerade,