Girl, Forgotten (Andrea Oliver 2)

Andrea tapped open the email, then the attachment, which showed the actual judge’s order against Ricky Jo Blakely Fontaine.

YOU, THE ADVERSE PARTY, ARE HERBY NOTIFIED THAT ANY INTENTIONAL VIOLATION OF THIS PERMANENT ORDER IS A CRIMINAL VIOLATION THAT WILL RESULT IN YOUR IMMINENT ARREST.

“Damn,” Andrea muttered. That was crystal clear. She bypassed the legal boilerplate and located the original request for a restraining order. She scrolled down to the meat of Bernard Fontaine’s complaint and read it aloud for Bible’s benefit.

“‘On several occasions over the last decade, my ex-wife, Ricky Jo Blakely (Fontaine), has shown up at my house and the house of my business partner, Dean Wexler, and verbally threatened me. On the last occasion, she was intoxicated and left a pile of vomit on my doorstep (photo attached). Throughout the previous six months, her attacks have escalated. She punctured all of the tires on my automobile (photo attached). She threw a rock through my bedroom window (photo attached). She threatened some of the workers at my place of employment (affidavits attached). She has written anonymous letters to various government agencies telling them that my business partner (Wexler) and I are operating outside the law (copies attached). She came to my place of employment last night brandishing a weapon (knife) and threatening to kill me. The police were called (report attached). During the process of her arrest, she verbally threatened to kill both me and Dean Wexler. She is currently in jail but I am in fear of my life should she be released.’”

“Well now, that ticks all the boxes for permanent,” Bible said. “Sounds like ol’ Ricky Jo’s got a wild side. When did all this happen?”

“Shit, it was only four years ago.” Andrea had nearly dropped his phone when she saw the date. This wasn’t a goat-rope. It was a goat massacre.

At the house, Ricky had made it seem like she had been destroyed by the divorce and terrified of Nardo and Wexler. You didn’t slash someone’s tires and puke on their doorstep sixteen years later if you were terrified. You did those things because you wanted their attention.

Andrea looked at Bible. He was waiting for her to figure something out, and it had nothing to do with the restraining order.

She said, “I was talking about Ricky and you showed me the death threats that were mailed to the judge.”

“That is an accurate sequence of events.”

Andrea took an educated guess. “You think that Ricky wrote the death threats.”

He looked very pleased. “Accurate again, partner.”

“Shit,” she whispered, because she hadn’t been sure at all. In retrospect, that would explain the absence of sexual violence in the threats. And the rat. There were traps all along the boardwalk. Ricky wouldn’t have to go far to find one. Not to mention that the stamped letters had been dropped in the blue mail collection box at the end of Beach Road.

She asked Bible, “Why? What did the judge ever do to Ricky?”

“Round about fifty years ago, the diner burned down.”

Andrea remembered reading about the devastating fire on the RJ’s Eats website but, unless Esther Vaughn was an arsonist, she didn’t see the connection. “And?”

“Big Al raised the kids after Ricky and Eric’s parents died in a boating accident.” Bible was watching Andrea carefully, taking in her reaction. “There was a legal settlement with the boat operator of two hundred thousand dollars that was put in a trust to take care of the kids. Big Al was the trustee. The kids knew about the money. They thought they were set for college, maybe a new car and a down payment on a house. Used to be that kind of money, even split down the middle, could buy you a hell of a lot of things.”

Two and a half years at SCAD had cost Andrea almost the entire amount. “But then the diner burned down.”

“Right, and Big Al as trustee felt that it would be for the benefit of the kids to use the money to rebuild the diner. The restaurant had been in the family for years. He petitioned the court. The court was persuaded, and the money was spent.”

“Petitioned the court?” Andrea echoed.

“The Delaware Court of Chancery adjudicates civil rights, real property, guardianships, trusts, that kind of thing. At the time, Esther was Chancellor. She granted Big Al’s request to use the money to rebuild the diner. Even said something about how a college education was all well and good, but the diner would supply a reasonable income for both kids for the remainder of their lifetimes.”

Andrea tried to think how she’d feel if the entire course of her adult life had been changed by one person. Actually, it didn’t take a lot of imagination.

She told Bible, “I am assuming there’s no proof, otherwise Ricky would be arrested. Has anyone interviewed her?”

“You don’t go straight on at a rattlesnake, you grab that sucker by the tail.”

Andrea had heard the phrase before. The best way to break a suspect was to surprise them with information they didn’t know you had. That was where the inspector with Judicial Security probably came in. Andrea and Bible were babysitters, not investigators.

She asked, “Does the judge know Ricky wrote the threats?”

“Indeed she does,” Bible said. “But it’s a theory, not a provable fact. The Marshals are keeping the Vaughns safe on the outside chance I’m wrong. And I know this is hard to believe, partner, but I have been wrong before.”

“Wait a minute.” Andrea saw a gaping hole in his explanation. “You told me last night that the profile for a person who threatens a judge is a suicidal middle-aged white male.”

“That’s true, which would make Ricky an outlier. Marshal rule number—”

“Oh, come on.”