CHAPTER SEVEN
Lincoln and Greaser along with three other club members pulled their motorcycles into Lincoln’s driveway. Once the bikes had been shut down they dismounted and stretched. “Come on in, guys, there’s beer in the refrigerator. Give me fifteen to shower and change, then we can get to the clubhouse.” They had just come back from a long weekend road trip and they’d stopped at everyone’s house so the patch holder could clean up before heading to the clubhouse to let the others know they were back. Lincoln’s house was the last stop.
Greaser and Burt followed him in and Lincoln paused as he tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. “Do you guys smell that?” He frowned and started walking toward the living room with Jackson beside him. Three steps into the room he reached up and grasped his throat and began punching his thigh.
“Hey man, you okay?” Jackson frowned and when he started to turn blue, he turned toward the kitchen and actually screamed. “ GREASER !” He was helping Lincoln to the floor when Greaser, Burt, and Randy rushed in.
“What’s wrong with him?” Burt demanded.
“I don’t know, he only got this far before he grabbed his throat and started punching his thigh, then turned blue.”
“Fuck!” Greaser jumped to his feet and began pulling out drawers. He found what he was looking for ran back over and slid beside his best friend, he took a pen and jabbed it into his thigh. “Call 9-1-1! He’s going into anaphylactic shock!”
“From what?” Burt asked as he pulled his phone and dialed.
“Cats, that’s the only thing he’s allergic to.” They stayed by Lincoln’s side until the EMTs arrived. Burt said that he and Randy would go to the hospital to be with Lincoln.
“Greaser, do you think Addy could have done something?” Jackson asked.
“No, she’s allergic to them too. Not as bad as Lincoln, he smells one and it’s deadly for him. She’s allergic to both cats and dogs, but she sneezes uncontrollably. Jackson and I are going to meet you there. Lincoln mentioned something a few weeks ago about different things that have been happening. He installed a security system with cameras. I’m going to access that to see what happened when we were gone.”
“Shit,” Burt said, and hurried after the EMTs.
“Come with me,” Greaser said, and led Jackson, not only a patch holder, but also Lincoln’s lawyer to the room Lincoln had set up the security equipment. Thank god it was behind a false wall, or whoever broke in might have found it and destroyed it. “Okay, today’s Sunday, we all left from here on Thursday around ten in the morning. Let’s go back to then and start watching.”
“Won’t it be boring with all that empty footage?”
“No, he has a system that’s motion activated. So, if nothing’s moving there’s no filming.”
“Smart,” Jackson said, and saw some pads of paper, grabbed on, along with a pen, and started watching. There were the four of them getting ready for their weekend away. Once they left the next time the camera’s came to life was around 10 p.m. Friday night.
“Thank god it’s a system that if one motion sensor is triggered, all the cameras turn on,” Greaser said as they watched. Ten minutes later he swore, then pounded on the desk. “I’m going to fucking kill that skank.” They had both witnessed that the cameras picked up the woman, Steph, the one who had been stalking Lincoln ever since she ruined his marriage, and before, come to the front door with a man. The man picked the lock, then they picked up two pet carriers and entered the house.
“He doesn’t have an alarm?”
“He does, it should have gone off.” Greaser frowned. “What the fuck.” He pointed to the screen and watched as the couple opened the pet carriers, and he counted at least eight cats come out and start running around the house. At one point, Steph picked up a cat and they saw her rub it all over his pillow.
“Son of a bitch,” Jackson said. “You know how to make a copy of this? If you do, do it. I’m going to call the police and have them meet us at the hospital.” He jumped to his feet and ran out of the room.
When Greaser came out he held up a disc and listened to his friend, brother, and Lincoln’s lawyer.
“Yes, Lydia, attempted murder. How do you want to do this? You want to meet me at the hospital or the scene of the crime?” He listened, and said, “Okay, I’ll explain when you get here.” He hung up, and said to Greaser, “Detective Lydia Morris will be here in twenty minutes. What a fucking mess.” He paused, and asked, “How up to date are you on Abe’s divorce?”
“Just that something is supposed to happen soon. He didn’t get into details just said that if it worked he’d be rid of that skank for a long, long time.”
“He’s right. The detective I just called is working with us. That’s why I went with you guys this weekend. I needed to get Lincoln away to clear his head. Thanks for coming with us.”
“Not a problem, I noticed he was becoming a workaholic. It seems like that’s all he does anymore is work. If we don’t have a car we’re working on, he’s fucking cleaning. How many garages do you know that has no grease or oil spots on the floor? One weekend he even went through everyone’s toolboxes and cleaned their tools.” Greaser shook his head. They looked up when the doorbell rang.
On the way to the door, Jackson said, “You’re going to hear some important information, not to be repeated. Come into my office tomorrow and sign a non-disclosure agreement. I’ll play it like you’ve already signed it so that if you have any questions you can ask them.” Greaser only had time to nod before the door was opened. “Lydia.”
“Jackson. What’s this about attempted murder and what the hell are you wearing?” She frowned at his leather chaps, half gloves and leather vest with his colors on his back.
Jackson grinned and turned so she could read the club name on the back.
“Holy shit, you’re a member of that club? And a lawyer, to boot?” The detective laughed. “Would never have guessed, counselor.” She looked at Greaser and her eyes about bugged out of her head when she saw him. “Who are you?”
“This is a friend of mine. He’s Lincoln Murphy’s business partner. Eric.”
Greaser and Lydia shook hands, and Jackson held his grin back when he saw their reaction to each other. He had been trying to hook her up with a friend of his for years, but she said she was too straightlaced to get involved with bikers.
“So, what’s going on?” Lydia finally asked.
“Here’s a quick recap. Five of us left last Thursday morning around 10 a.m. to get our heads screwed on straight. Well, Greaser and I planned to get Abe out and clear his head. Burt went along with us, said he had to clear his head about something too.”
“Whoa, wait, who are Abe and Greaser and Burt?” She pulled a notebook and pen.
“I’m Greaser, not only am I best friends with Abe, but I’m also his business partner. We own and operated Murphy’s Garage down on Second Ave.”
“Okay, but if you’re business partners why is only Murphy’s name on it?”
“Because I was in the service when he opened it, and when I got out I was going through a nasty divorce. I waited until after the divorce before becoming his business partner, or my ex would have tried to take it.”
“Okay, so who’re Abe and Burt?”
“Abe is the club name for Lincoln Murphy.” Jackson grinned when he saw the understanding on her face. They all laughed together.
“Got it. And Burt?”
“Burt’s his real name. Burt Maddison, he’s the president of the club.”
“Maddison as in Maddison, Smith and Maddison. The hottest law firm in town?”
“Yes, he’s the second Maddison, his father’s the first.”
“Wow, and all these years I thought bikers were drug dealers and pimps.”
“Some of them are, our club isn’t like that. Everyone has a respectable day job. And speaking of which...”
“Oh right. So this is Lincoln Murphy’s home?”
“Yes, as I was saying the five of us left from here on Thursday morning. We went across to MA and stayed at Tolland State Park. We left there early this morning and came home. We stopped at each other’s houses and they cleaned up. This was the last stop before we were going to head to the clubhouse. We walked in, Lincoln offered us a beer and said to give him fifteen minutes to shower and change.” He looked at Greaser and frowned. “What did he say when he tossed his keys on the counter?”
“He asked if we smelled something. Abe headed toward the living room with Jackson. Don’t know why you went with him.”
“Because I had to piss like a racehorse and I wanted first dibs on the bathroom.” He grinned when Lydia groaned in disgust. “We came into this room from this direction.” He backed up and walked it. “It was about here that Jackson started gasping for breath, grabbed his throat, and started slamming his fist against his thigh. I thought he was having some type of seizure or something. I helped him to the floor, because he was turning blue, screamed for Greaser. He came in, took one look at Abe and began pulling drawers open like a madman until he finally found something and stabbed him with it.
“Burt called 9-1-1. He and Randy, the other club member with us, followed the ambulance to the hospital. Greaser told me about a security system Abe installed a couple months ago. We viewed it and saw what had happened. I called you.”
“What did you stab him with? How did you know what to do?”
“Both Abe and his wife Addy are allergic to cats. Abe’s okay with dogs, Addy’s not. One time I was here with a puppy, not knowing her allergy and she went into shock. Abe gave her an EpiPen injection. After that, I made sure that I had clean clothes on and didn’t bring my dog over. They showed me where some EpiPens were stashed around the house. The bathrooms, bedroom, kitchen and living room. They were there for each other, but they wanted someone to know what to do if one of them needed it, and the other one wasn’t home.”
“Smart, they knew to be prepared. But what happened tonight? What would have set Mr. Murphy off?”
“Abe’s deathly allergic to cats. He smells a cat on a person and he could go into shock. That’s why he doesn’t do the front counter work anymore. He stays in the garage, not that he’s not sociable, he’s very sociable, it’s just that the club members know of his allergy and don’t have any cats. I know I’m confusing you here, but I’m still pissed at what we saw on the tape. Anyway, Abe doesn’t work the counter any more because a customer once brought a cat into the building. He was far enough away that he could get clear of it before he had a reaction. Since that happened, he only goes to the front if no outside customers are there.”
“What’s Mrs. Murphy’s reaction to cats? Is she deathly allergic?”
“No, she just goes into sneezing fits, instant red eyes. Looks like she’d been crying for hours, oh and her nose runs.” Greaser grinned.
“So what happened here?”
“Follow us,” Jackson said, and as they went to the security room, Lydia noted two drawers upended in the living room.
“Looking for the EpiPen?” she asked as she pointed to the mess.
“Yes,” Greaser said, and sat her down in a chair. “This is a state-of-the-art system. It’s motion activated. But if a sensor is tripped, all the cameras are activated at once. If the house is empty, it doesn’t record anything.”
“Understood.” Lydia settled in.
“I’ll start it at the morning we left,” Greaser said, and did just that. He pointed out who everyone was, and five minutes after they left the screen went blank. It turned on again and Lydia noted it was almost 10 p.m. on Friday night. She sat forward quickly.
“Holy shit! Is that...?” She whipped her head around at Jackson and stared with huge eyes.
“Yes.”
Lydia continued to watch and kept repeating, “Oh my fucking god.” Over and over and over again. The camera turned off five minutes to eleven that night and didn’t come on again until Lincoln, Jackson, Greaser, Burt, and Randy walked through the back door almost an hour ago. Lydia saw what happened to Lincoln Murphy just by breathing the air in his own home.
“I want a copy of this.”
Greaser grinned when he held it up for her. “Already done. Now, do you think we should get someone in here and dust for prints?”
“I do, even though we have them dead to rights on the security footage, I want to get actual prints. You guys will probably have to come in and give yours for comparison.”
“Already on file,” Greaser said. “Former military. So is Randy.”
“Okay. Let me call the CSU team in. One of you call the hospital and check on Murphy. I don’t know how long the team will take. But he can’t come back here, if he had that type of reaction.” She pointed to the screen where he was being worked on by the EMTs. “This place is going to have to be scrubbed from top to bottom.”
“Mary?” Greaser asked Jackson.
“Yeah. Mary is Burt’s wife. She can organize the women to come in and clean, but not until after you clear it.”
“Thanks. Now call the hospital. I’ll wait here for the crime lab, and once CSU is done here, I want to go talk to him.”
Greaser stepped outside and called Burt.
“Hey, how’s our boy?”
“Bad. He’s in ICU with a fucking tube down his throat. What the fuck happened, Greaser? We can’t answer any of the doctor’s questions. Did you and Jackson see anything on his security cameras?”
“Yes, the skank and a man broke in late Friday night, they had at least eight cats with them and let them loose in the house. We have footage of the skank holding a cat and rubbing it across his pillow on his bed.”
“Fuck. Wonder how she found out about his allergy?”
“If she hung out at the club, she would have found out that way. And no, before you even ask, Addy would have nothing to do with this. That fucking skank is clearly visible on the security tape. Jackson called a friend of his on the police force. A detective with the first name of Lydia.”
“I know her. Good people.”
“Apparently there’s more to the divorce than we know about, Lydia’s involved. I do know that Jackson told her over the phone that the charges against the skank would be attempted murder.”
“Or premediated. If she’s on video with those cats, then she knew what she was doing. Hell.” Burt snorted. “Maybe she thought he’d have a mild allergic reaction and she would be his nurse in shining armor. Christ, what a mess. Do you think I should call Addy?”
“Christ, I never thought of that. Let me talk to Jackson about that. Oh, before I forget, Lydia called in a CSU team and they’re dusting Abe’s entire house for prints. You’ll have to go in and get printed for comparison. And once the house is cleared by the cops, do you think Mary would get the women together to come clean?”
“I don’t see why not, not once I tell her what happened. But my prints are already on file. Had to take them long time ago.”
“Okay, I’ll pass that information along. We’ll stay here with Abe.”
“Hold on a minute, Burt.” Greaser looked up and saw Jackson and Lydia standing there. “Burt’s on the phone. Abe’s in ICU with a tube down his throat. Doctors were clueless. I told him of his cat allergy. He knows about the skank. He wants to know if he should call Addy.” He punched a button on his phone. “Burt, you’re on speaker, Detective Lydia and Jackson are here.”
“Mr. Maddison, this is Detective Lydia, do you think his wife would come to the hospital?”
“No clue. God, what a fucking mess. I hope you throw the fucking book at this skank, Lydia.”
“Oh, I plan on it, Mr. Maddison. You can count on that. I’ll talk it over with Jackson about contacting Mrs. Murphy. I’m sure he’s going to want to call her lawyer first and toss it by him.”
“Okay, just let me know. I’m staying here until I know he’s out of the woods or someone shows up.” Then, he hung up.
Lydia turned and sighed. “Do you think you should call Franklin?”
“I should. Christ, this is one call I don’t want to make.”
“Want me to call Addy?” Greaser asked.
“No, we should do this through the lawyers. Lydia, Greaser’s already signed a NDA, why don’t you fill him in on what’s been going on?” Jackson said, and pulled his phone. “Franklin,” he said, and began telling him what had occurred.
“Fuck!” Franklin said, and actually picked up a paperweight and threw it across the room. His house guest, Brian jumped and stared at him in shock. He held up his hand and sighed into the phone. “I’ll get back to you within ten minutes.” Then, he hung up the phone. He rubbed his face and stared at his guest. “Sorry about that. How well do you know Addy?”
“I’d like to say that we’re best friends.” Brian stared at the man in confusion. “Why?”
“I’m about to tell you something that you’ll have to sign a NDA for.” He walked to his desk and retrieved one and once it was signed, he sat down and told him everything that was going on with the Murphy divorce. When he was done, Brian stared at him in open-mouthed shock.
“So that’s why you need our schedule and her phone. This Detective Lydia is going to pose as Addy when you guys call her. I can totally understand that. But I don’t know if she’d show up at the hospital. I was there when she tried to call him about the miscarriage. Franklin, it was horrible. Seeing the hope and then disappointment on her face. For three days she was curled in the fetal position crying. But.” He held up his hand when Franklin went to interrupt. “Personally, I think if we both go to her and tell her about his condition in person and tell her what you told me just now, she’d show up. However, you’re going to have to take that bitch down soon. Addy may be a tiny woman, but she’s no pushover. She told me that she grabbed that woman by the hair, punched her enough to give her a bloody nose, and actually tossed her several feet away from her husband when she found them in that position. If she’s not arrested soon, you might have to arrest Addy for murder. But it still might not stop the divorce.”
“I can understand that. I know it’s late, how would you like to take a ride with me?” he asked, and when Brian stared in shock he laughed. “Later, I don’t fuck on the first date. I meant to go to talk to Addy.”
Brian was so flustered that he did as Franklin said and in minutes they were in his Lexus driving toward Addy’s studio apartment.