Just Take My Heart - Mary Higgins Clark [87]
Just Take My Heart
58
It was Monday morning in Yonkers. Reeney Sling was arguing with her husband, Rudy, a not uncommon situation. She had been the one who had phoned in the inquiry to the Courtside office on Friday night. Rudy had hit the ceiling later when she told him what she had done.
“Sal is my friend,” he fumed. “Look at the break he gave us. Mov?ing us up here at a discount and letting us pay two months later. How many people do you think would do that? And this is how you say 'Thank you, Sal'?”
Reeney had heatedly pointed out that Sal had a number of guys working for him off the books who might also remember Jimmy. “Any one of them could pass on the same information, and if there is a reward, they'll be the ones to collect. So if there is one, why shouldn't we get it?”
Rudy took a swig of beer. “I'll tell you why. I'll say it again. Sal is my friend. And I'm not going to be the one to get him in trouble. And neither are you.”
The tension between them had lasted over the weekend. Then on Sunday night, Reeney had checked the Courtside Web site and learned that Michael Gordon intended to announce on Monday-night's show a twenty-five-thousand-dollar reward. It would be paid for information leading to proof that Jimmy Easton had ever had access to Gregg Aldrich's apartment when Aldrich was not present and before Natalie Raines was murdered.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” Reeney had screamed. “Open your eyes and look around this place. Everything is falling apart. How long have I had to live like this? I'm embarrassed to have our friends come here. Think how nice we could fix it up with that kind of money. And maybe have enough to take a trip like you've been promising me forever.”
“Reeney, if we tell them Jimmy Easton worked for Sal, they'll ask to see his books. I doubt if Sal even remembers how much he used him. He only has one full-time guy. The others he pays in cash when he needs them on a job. Sal never delivered to the Aldrich apart?ment. He told me that himself only last week.”
“What did you expect him to say? That he would love to have the IRS all over him?”
On Sunday night they had gone to bed furious at each other. On Monday morning, Rudy's resistance was starting to falter. “I couldn't sleep much last night, Reeney,” he said.
“Yes, you did,” Reeney snapped. “You were snoring all night. With all the beer you drank, you were out cold.”
They were having breakfast in the small dining area off the kitchen. Rudy was using his last piece of toast to mop up the remain?der of the fried eggs he had eaten. “What I'm trying to say, if you'll let me talk, is that you've got a point. Anyone who ever worked for Sal and met Easton and hears about this reward will be speed-dialing the tip in to Courtside. If Sal is going to get in trouble anyway, why should we miss out on the money? If it turns out that Easton never delivered anything there, then Courtside doesn't pay and we don't buy any new furniture.”
Reeney jumped up and ran to the phone. “I have the tip number written down.”
She snatched up a piece of paper and began to dial.
Just Take My Heart
59
As a convicted murderer, Gregg Aldrich was considered a high security risk and was housed in a tiny cell by himself. The awful real?ity of what had happened to him did not sink in immediately.
When he had arrived at the jail after the verdict, he was photo?graphed and fingerprinted. He had exchanged his Paul Stuart jacket and slacks for the pale green jumpsuit that was issued to all inmates. His watch and his wallet had been documented in his newly opened file and taken from him.
He was allowed to keep his reading glasses.
He was interviewed by a nurse who questioned him about any mental or physical health issues he might have, or any medications he was taking.
It was about two o'clock on Friday afternoon when, still protected by shock from the full impact of the verdict, he had been taken to his cell. Knowing he had missed lunch, a guard had brought him a baloney sandwich and a soda.
“Thank you, Officer. I appreciate it,” he said courteously.