Death Comes Knocking (The Thea Kozak Mystery Series, Book 10)

by Kate Flora

  “This is all my fault!” Lindsay said. “I never should have told my roommate where I was going. She’s such an idiot. I should go.”

  “Let’s wait here until we’re sure the situation has been resolved,” I said. “You go out there now and you could make things worse.”

  I wasn’t worried about Andre being hurt. Maybe I should have been. Maybe I have too much confidence in my husband. Drunks with guns were volatile and dangerous. But there had been three armed and trained people in the room. If anyone was shot, it was Jason. Far more likely, the shot had been a warning when his thick head was unable to process a command to put the damned gun down.

  “You can put that thing down now,” Jonetta said.

  I realized I was still holding my gun in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Lindsay. The poor girl would be lucky if she recovered from this day’s events in her lifetime. “I’ll put it back upstairs,” I said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You aren’t scaring me,” Jonetta said. “I just don’t like being around them if I don’t have to. Guns have a habit of going off, especially when the person holding them is distracted.”

  She was right. I was distracted. And Lindsay was staring at me like I was a dangerous stranger she’d never met. I shifted my gaze to Jonetta. “Maybe you can explain this to Lindsay while I put the gun away?”

  “Oh, sure. Give me the hard job,” she said, but her calm, and her smile, had returned.

  “I guess the corn is going to be cold.”

  I took my gun upstairs and locked it in the safe.

  My phone rang.

  Usually, if a call comes in at dinner time on a Friday, it means a client school is in trouble. I looked at the screen. A number I didn’t recognize. I was so tempted not to answer. There were enough emergencies on my plate already, and I had company.

  That feeling I’d had of imminent danger hadn’t gone away when I left Andre in the kitchen dealing with the Jason debacle. What if this was Charity Kinsman? If it was, she definitely needed help. While I was making up my mind whether to answer, the caller hung up. When I called back, there was no answer, and I didn’t go to voicemail.

  Darn it! Something else that would be like a splinter in my mind. This whole day made me want to scream in frustration. I figured if I screamed at this point, I’d have three people dashing at me with guns, so I passed. I sure wanted to, though. Being tough and waiting things out were what I’d schooled myself to do. Discipline, discipline, discipline. It worked well when I was dealing with other people’s crises, or facing down bad guys. I didn’t want to have to exercise it in my own house, when someone had threatened me and MOC with a gun.

  Stay calm. Avoid stress. Those were my doctor’s orders. I liked my doctor, but so often, her advice was utterly unrealistic. I wondered how she’d respond if I asked her how I was supposed to avoid stress when there were drunken gunmen in my kitchen, and a pregnant woman who needed my help was being stalked by a Mexican cartel?

  MOC decided that it was time for gymnastics practice, and the first few warm-up kicks left me gasping. I dropped onto the top step and folded myself around my crazy child. Would this kid be more peaceful if mom lived a more tranquil life? It didn’t help to tell the little mite that I hadn’t sought out any of this. MOC and I were still stressed by it.

  I heard Andre down in the living room, his calm voice reassuring Lindsay and Jonetta, then asking where I was. When he saw me bent over at the top of the stairs, he flew up to me in a total panic. Rock calm dealing with a gunman in our kitchen, unnerved by the possibility I might be in labor.

  “It’s okay,” I said. Or gasped. “Just the little acrobat kicking up a storm.”

  He dropped onto the step below me. “Thank goodness.” He put a warm hand on the basketball. “Wow. I never knew babies did this. It’s crazy.”

  “You ought to be on the receiving end of those kicks,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder. “So, is everyone okay? And is the kitchen still standing?”

  I didn’t mean Jason. I didn’t care about him.

  “We’re all fine. Dad’s going to have to replace a pane of glass over the sink,” he said. “Otherwise, it’s fine.”

  “And that idiot?”

  “I’m afraid he resisted arrest after we disarmed him, and some force was needed to subdue him.”

  “I’m so happy to hear it.”

  Actually, I wasn’t happy. Yes, I wanted Jason arrested and gone, but this was another case of unwanted people bringing in violence and polluting our new house. It looked like I was going to have to get someone in to smudge the place and drive out the evil spirits.

  “But you are okay? Fred and Alice are okay?”

  He nodded. “How’s Lindsay?”

  “Not good. You saw her. She’s traumatized. You know better than I how it is with a victim who gets revictimized.”

  “Jonetta is fixing her a stiff drink, and Fred and Alice have taken the idiot outside to wait for the sheriff’s patrol to pick him up.”

  “They let him out of jail this time, and I’ll shoot him myself.”

  “Only if I don’t beat you to it. We do our job. The cops. Then the justice system lets these people out.”

  “His daddy is connected.”

  “If his daddy can get him out of this, it’s his daddy who needs to be shot.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.” I grabbed the railing and hauled myself up. I’m plenty fit, but MOC was distorting my balance. “Do you think anyone is interested in finishing dinner?”

  “Oh, I think so. Once the idiot kid is gone. I hear there is pie.”

  Outside, the wail of sirens announced that our unwanted visitor was about to be collected. We went downstairs, I to the living room to comfort Lindsay, Andre outside to speak with deputies.

  Lindsay was sitting in my favorite chair, a big comfortable armchair with an ottoman. Even though it was a warm night, Jonetta had wrapped her in a cozy cream-colored throw. She was clutching a glass of some brownish liquid—either bourbon or Scotch—and looking more relaxed.

  I sat on the sofa next to her chair. “How are you doing?”

  “Better. I mean, I’ve been thinking about how it would have gone if he’d come to the apartment, drunk and with a gun. It’s not a…uh…lucky situation.” She sighed. “But under the circumstances, I’m awfully lucky I was here. With you and Jonetta and Andre.” She took a sip of her drink. “I do feel protected.”

  Well, that was something. “I’m glad we were here to protect you. We’ll have to do some safety planning, going forward. For tonight, a bracing drink, maybe some pie and ice cream, a long, leisurely bath, and a good night’s sleep.”

  “Yes, Dr. Kozak,” she said.

  “Dr. Kozak is going to find out whether people want to finish their dinners,” I said. “If not, I’ll clear and we’ll have pie.” I paused in the doorway. “You do like pie, don’t you?”

  She smiled, looking so young in the big chair, wrapped in all that white fake fur. “I love pie. Haven’t learned to make it yet, but that’s something I plan to do soon.”

  “Well, don’t worry. I didn’t make these. My pie-making skills generally involve a credit card.”

  Lindsay laughed.

  I left her sipping strong spirits under Jonetta’s watchful eye, though I’d noticed that Jonetta had a glass of wine in her hand and was looking awfully relaxed for someone who’d just been close to a gun party. I figured she found herself in that situation fairly often.

  Andre, Alice, and Fred were outside, chatting with a deputy. I could see Jason in the backseat of the deputy’s car, his head bowed. I stepped out into the gathering dark and approached them, surprised at how loud the night sounded, as desperate insects poured their mating cries into the warm night air.

  Andre did introductions and the deputy said he’d be on his way.

  “Don’t let that kid out again,” I said. “We’re just getting this kitchen finished. I don’t need any more windows broken.”r />
  The deputy, an older man with a smart face and tired eyes, said, “Ma’am, if only it were up to me.”

  That wasn’t very reassuring. Andre put a solid hand on my shoulder and kept it there as the car backed down the driveway and disappeared. “Don’t worry,” he said. “That kid isn’t getting out anytime soon. However much juice his family may have, generally, when the charge is taking a shot at a public safety officer in his own home after threatening his pregnant wife with a rifle, the courts will not be inclined to release him. The test is whether he presents a danger to himself or others. It’s pretty clear he’s dangerous.”

  I looked at the others. “Did you all want to finish your dinners? I can warm things up. Or we can move on to pie.”

  “Pie?” Alice said brightly.

  Even Fred, whose demeanor was that of someone who drank vinegar all day, brightened.

  I took the executive decision that we were moving on to pie.

  “I’ll help,” Andre said, and dropped his hand. We all headed inside. We’d mostly finished eating anyway. I’d been about to offer seconds on corn when Jason arrived. Andre cleared the plates and scraped them while Alice rinsed and loaded the dishwasher and I impressed Fred into service putting out dessert plates and forks.

  I cut each pie into eight pieces so none of the kids could fight about not getting some of each, and there would still be pie left for Andre’s breakfast. He is normally a healthy eater, but he has a soft spot for pie.

  I got out ice cream and a scoop and put those on the table. Then I called everyone back. Jonetta came in by herself, holding a finger to her lips. “The poor girl has fallen asleep,” she said. “Best thing for her.”

  I peeked into the living room. Lindsay was curled up in a chair, sound asleep.

  The rest of us sat down to pie, and no one was shy about a piece of raspberry and a piece of key lime. I love to see people eat, and enjoy eating, and that was definitely happening here.

  When we were done and were clearing the plates, I picked up my phone to tuck it in my pocket. There was another missed call from the same unfamiliar number. Again, I called it back. Again, there was no answer.

  It was not how I wanted to end this roller-coaster of a day, worrying about some mystery person out there who wanted to speak with me but wouldn’t make it easy. Was it Kinsman, looking for my help in his efforts to locate his sister? Was it Charity, hiding out somewhere and in labor, needing my help? Or was it whoever was trying to find her for the cartel, hoping to trick me into giving away her location?

  Nothing I could do, though, if the person wouldn’t leave a message. Right now, the ups and downs had left me so tired I could have slept in a chair, like Lindsay.

  Alice and Fred finally left for our local B&B just as I was beginning to worry that I’d need to find them someplace to sleep as well. By the time they were gone, I was dead on my feet.

  I would settle Jonetta and see if we could get Lindsay to her room. I hated to wake her, but also didn’t want to leave her alone down in the living room. If she was tired enough, maybe Andre could carry her up without waking her.

  It turned out that he could.

  I finished putting things away. He was in the office, on the phone, talking so quietly I couldn’t make out the words. Then I heard the high-pitched whine of a fax arriving.

  That dark, unsettled feeling I’d had earlier returned with a vengeance. No surprise there. It had been a day full of ominous feelings and bad events. I hoped it wouldn’t keep me awake. I have issues with nightmares that only curling up next to Andre can help, and even that doesn’t always work, no matter how tired I am.

  Now, all we needed was the unwanted return of Malcolm Kinsman, looking for a bed for the night.

  Let it be someone else’s problem, I thought, as I climbed the creaky stairs. Jonetta was singing softly in her room. Lindsay snored gently in the baby’s room. And MOC, unwilling to be ignored, was learning to breakdance.

  Thirty-One

  Andre spoke to MOC, who immediately settled down. I hoped this boded well for the future. He didn’t tell me about the call, and I didn’t ask. Right now, all that mattered was that he was here and nothing had called him away. Except for its usual creaks and groans, the old house stayed silent. No ominous creaks suggested Malcolm Kinsman had returned. My phone didn’t ring. No one knocked or barged their way in.

  Magically, I fell asleep almost immediately and didn’t wake until three-thirty, when I made a quick trip to the bathroom. When I came back, Andre wrapped himself around me and I fell back asleep.

  I woke to birds singing and sunlight streaming in. The intensity of the light told me it was late, and I was shocked to find that despite guests in the house, I’d slept until nearly ten. I was definitely shirking my hostess duties.

  Grabbing a robe that barely tied around me, I padded down to the kitchen. Andre, Jonetta, and Lindsay were at the table, the crumbled remains of a coffee cake on their plates. The air smelled of bacon and the box of eggs was still sitting on the counter. There was the delicious scent of coffee in the air.

  Andre got up when I entered and headed for the stove. “One egg or two?” he said.

  “Three.” Cholesterol be damned. For some reason, I was starving. Maybe because it was so late.

  “Toast?” Lindsay said.

  I nodded. Maybe this was what I’d needed all along—a staff to wait on me. I settled in a chair and Lindsay brought me coffee.

  “Everyone sleep okay?” I asked.

  Lindsay looked sheepish. “Like a rock,” she said. “When I didn’t think I’d sleep a wink.”’

  Jonetta grinned. “Those damned birds woke me up,” she said. “Can’t remember the last time I was woken by birds. I got coffee, went back to bed, and read for an hour. Can’t recall when I last did that, either. I could get to like vacations.”

  No one seemed rattled by last night’s gunman.

  I ate my eggs and bacon and toast. Drank my coffee. I’d been tired for so long I’d stopped noticing. Being rested finally made it clear for me. We sat around, drinking more coffee, no one in a rush to go anywhere or do anything. We talked about a trip to the coast for tomorrow, maybe a swim in the lake today. It felt so normal, even if I did keep one ear tuned to the driveway, expecting a disruption that would force a change in plans.

  My phone was upstairs, silenced for the night. Now curiosity drove me up there to get it, wondering if there might be more calls from my mystery caller.

  There were two, one at one-thirty a.m. and the other at four a.m. Neither time had the caller left a message. If it hadn’t been silenced, those calls would have kept me awake. But why keep calling and not leave a message?

  Andre’s father and cousin showed up even though it was Saturday. While their schedule is somewhat erratic, his family prefers tinkering to taking days off. He excused himself and went to join them. They wanted the barn workshop and garage space finished before winter. Winter felt very far away right now, but they didn’t agree. People in Maine seem to think about winter all the time, and anyway, I never argue with a man holding a hammer. While I might like sitting around eating a leisurely breakfast, Andre liked to be working on his space.

  I went back upstairs to dress while Jonetta and Lindsay cleaned up. It was like having a big family, with the added pleasure of having one that got along, unlike my actual family. Relaxed and pleasant as this day was, I couldn’t shake that ominous feeling. Yesterday’s drama with a gunman in the kitchen should have been the answer, if the feeling was predictive, yet it lingered. With MOC constantly reminding me that oh, yes, I was pregnant, I couldn’t stop thinking about another pregnant woman on the run. It was crazy how much one seemingly innocuous knock on the door had altered my life.

  When my phone rang this time, I almost didn’t answer it. But I am a slave of duty, even on a leisurely summer Saturday. It was Emmett Hampton, who also should have been enjoying his Saturday. I said, “Hello?”

  “Thea. So sorry to disturb you on th
e weekend. I just wanted to tell you that the video is brilliant. We’re thrilled. That intern who made it? If you’re not going to keep her, we’ll hire her.”

  “Thanks, Emmett. She is a treasure, for sure, and we’re keeping her.”

  “Well, just wanted to say thanks. Yanita and Arleigh are delighted. Tell your intern thanks. And of course, we’ll be in touch once we’ve shared this with the boy’s attorney. I think this should settle things down.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to give the student body a look, and have a conversation about using social media responsibly,” I said. “If we can find this, so can colleges, and later on, their future employers. Kids who live in a social media-centered world don’t always think about these things.”

  “Good idea. I’ll pass it along.” He hesitated. “Unless you want to? Does EDGE do these kinds of programs?”

  We didn’t, but we could, so that’s what I told him, already getting excited about a new way we could help client schools. I’d share it with Suzanne when she and her family came to dinner tonight.

  Then I wiggled my feet into flip-flops and went back downstairs.

  Jonetta and Lindsay were on the back deck, an umbrella pulled over to shade their Adirondack chairs, reading. Jonetta was deep into a Barbara Ross clam bake mystery while Lindsay was reading Down East. Beyond them, bright petunias in pots were a pop of purple and magenta, and then there were my raised bed gardens and the rolling green lawn. It was almost too perfect.

  What a pessimist I was. I was sure something had to happen to spoil this lovely day. Almost like that character in Shakespeare who could call spirits from the vasty deep, I heard tires crunch on the gravel. In Shakespeare, Hotspur asks whether, when summoned, they would come. It was my bad luck that too often they did. I stepped around the corner of the house to see what I had summoned. Whatever it was, I didn’t want it.

  Malcolm Kinsman, looking shabbier and more worn-down than ever, stepped from his little silver car and hurried toward me. I knew that look—it was the hopeful anticipation of someone badly in need of good news. I didn’t have any for him.