Stalking Steven

by Jenna Bennett

  Then again, I’d been faced with a gun less than twelve hours ago, too, and had lived to tell the tale. And Mendoza didn’t seem worried.

  Araminta nodded. “Yes, dear. It was Patton’s gun. It came to me when he passed.”

  Of course it had. “And you decided that now would be a good time to kill your sister-in-law?”

  “I’d been thinking about it for a while,” Araminta said calmly. “For the money, you know. Places like this don’t come cheap.”

  She waved a hand at her surroundings. It was the hand with the gun, and I think both Mendoza and I held our breath until she’d lowered it again.

  “Patton didn’t leave me much, you understand. Griselda was the one with the money. And she was happy to share it with Patton, but when he died and it was just me… well, it was a very different story.”

  “So you decided to get rid of her. And inherit.”

  She nodded. “I’ve thought about it for years. But the time never seemed right. I couldn’t make it too obvious, you understand.”

  I nodded. “Of course not. You didn’t want it to look like you were behind it. It had to look like someone else did it.”

  She beamed. “Exactly, dear. I knew you’d understand.”

  Oh, sure. I smiled back. “So when Steven called and wanted to rent the house for Anastasia, you saw your chance.”

  “They made it so obvious, they might as well have come straight out and talked about the Russian mafia.” She shook her head, clucking. “There was no way they’d go to the police. And she was probably illegal, anyway. Nobody would believe that she didn’t do it. It made perfect sense.”

  “So you drove over there, and… you have a car, I assume?”

  She smiled sweetly. “Of course, dear. This isn’t prison, you know. I come and go as I please. And I’m not so old yet that they’ve taken away my driver’s license.”

  No, physically there didn’t seem to be much wrong with her. Her eyesight was obviously good, and so was her mind. Even if it was a little unhinged.

  “So you went there, and you knocked on the door, and when Griselda opened it—which she would do, even late at night, seeing as you were her sister-in-law and someone she trusted—you shot her.”

  Araminta nodded. “And went next door to spook the Russian girl into taking off. It wouldn’t do for her to be there the next morning, or whenever the body was found.”

  Of course not. “And then, when I showed up and told you Steven was missing, too, I guess you got the idea for the ransom note?”

  She looked very pleased, with me for catching on, or with herself for thinking of it. Or both. “It seemed like such a golden opportunity. It might take a while for the insurance company to pay out under the circumstances—not that anyone in their right mind would suspect me of having had anything to do with it!—and I could use a little cash to tide me over until I got the insurance money. And you did say your friend is an attorney. I thought she must be able to afford it.”

  “You know,” I said, “when I saw you at the Arena last night, I didn’t suspect you at all. I thought it was a coincidence.”

  Mendoza arched his brows at me, and I added, “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think it was important. Sorry.”

  He didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes. Araminta snickered. “I saw you both, of course. And realized I wouldn’t be getting the money. But at least I could get away clean. Nobody ever suspects a little old lady of anything bad.”

  “How do you plan to get away now?” I asked, curiously. “I mean, you just confessed.”

  She smiled sweetly. “I’m just waiting for the poison in the scones to kick in, dear.”

  There was poison in the scones?

  I turned to Mendoza. “You said the scones were fine.”

  He shrugged. “Guess I was wrong.”

  Guess so. “What kind of poison?” I asked Araminta.

  She waved her hand vaguely. The one with the gun. “Something from Griselda’s medicine cabinet. Heart medicine, maybe? She always had a rotten heart.”

  It sounded like that particular affliction was going around. “So what kind of symptoms are you waiting for?”

  “I’m not sure, dear. I thought you might get woozy, but you don’t seem to be.” She furrowed her brows. “Perhaps another scone?”

  “I’m not really hungry anymore,” I said. “How about you just tie us to the furniture instead, and take off while you can? You don’t have to wait. And with the TV on so loudly, nobody’s likely to hear us scream even if you don’t get the gags just right.”

  She nodded pensively. “That’s a good idea.”

  “You can use my scarf.” I pulled it from around my neck and held it out to her.

  “Thank you, dear.” She took a step forward and reached for it. I kicked the gun out her other hand.

  It went flying through the air and hit the floor with a loud noise. It wasn’t until I heard an electric sizzle, and then a crack before everything went silent, that I realized the gun had gone off on impact and shot the big screen TV.

  The bullet must have passed within a few inches of the top of my head.

  Not that I had much time to think about it. Like me earlier, Mendoza had launched himself across the coffee table, and had landed on top of Araminta. Unlike me earlier, she didn’t seem to enjoy the proximity. She was shrieking like a banshee, and beating at him with her fists. And he was handicapped by the fact that while he had her by ten inches and probably seventy pounds, she was a little old lady with fragile bones, and if he broke any, she’d probably holler about police brutality.

  He got her turned around, though, and her screams muffled in the Persian rug, so he could fit handcuffs around her skinny wrists. They had to be adjusted to their smallest circumference, or she’d be able to just slip her hands right out through them.

  He hauled her upright and onto the sofa while she was still wailing. “You have the right to remain silent…”

  “So now what?” I asked when he had gone through the appropriate motions.

  He glanced at me. “I’ll call the Williamson County sheriff and have her picked up. We’re in his jurisdiction. Then we’ll have her transferred to Nashville, since most of her crimes were committed there.”

  “I’m more concerned about me and you,” I said. “And dying from ingesting Griselda’s heart medicine.”

  “I feel fine,” Mendoza told me, “but the bathroom’s down the hall, if you want to go stick a finger down your throat.”

  I felt fine, too, now that it was over. But I thought maybe I’d make a short trip to the bathroom anyway. If nothing else, I could make sure I hadn’t accidentally wet myself when the gun went off. And maybe I could find a Band-Aid for Mendoza, while I was at it. “I’ll be right back.”

  He nodded and reached for his phone. “I’ll be here.”

  Chapter 20

  So that’s what happened,” I told Diana that evening. We were all sitting around the kitchen table in the house in Hillwood. And by ‘all,’ I mean Diana, Rachel, Zachary, and I, with Edwina curled up on the rug in front of the sink. “Araminta killed Griselda and tried to put the blame on Anastasia. She also tried to shake you down for money. And she’s charged with attempted murder of me and Mendoza, even though the pills she ground up and put in the scones expired several years ago. I guess she didn’t notice.”

  “So no ill effects from the experience?” Diana sipped from her glass of wine.

  The rest of us were all strictly alcohol-free this evening. Zachary and Rachel because they were taking pain pills—and Zachary was technically too young to drink, anyway—and I because the doctor who had examined me had said I probably didn’t have anything to worry about, but it might be a good idea if I were a little extra careful about what I put in my mouth for the next couple of days.

  “My stomach’s a little upset,” I admitted. “And I tend to jump at loud noises. But apart from that, no. I’m glad to be alive, though. That bullet practically parted my h
air before it killed the TV.”

  Diana nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. It was all Araminta.”

  “I gave you this job,” Diana reminded me.

  “Yes, but all you wanted to know, was what Steven was up to. You didn’t ask me to get involved in murder, and human trafficking, and kidnapping. I did all that on my own.”

  She smiled. “And I’m grateful you did.”

  “So you and Steven are going to be all right?”

  She sounded surprised that I asked. “Of course.”

  Good to know. “What about Anastasia?”

  “Steven’s talking to the people at ICE,” Diana said. “To see if she’ll be allowed to stay while we figure things out.”

  “So you think she might be his daughter?”

  “He thinks so,” Diana said. “I figure he ought to know.”

  Probably so. “And how is it going?”

  “If necessarily, we’ll hire a lawyer,” Diana said. “One who specializes in immigration cases. But Steven’s making a good case. She’s here legally, on some sort of tourist visa. There’s nothing for her in Russia. Her mother’s dead, and so are her grandparents. She has nothing to go back to. And she came all the way here to find him. This girl allowed herself to be trafficked so she could look for her father. So I’m fairly confident that things will work out, even without the lawyer.”

  It sounded like it might.

  “What about the other Russian girls?” Zachary wanted to know.

  Diana glanced at him and hid a wince. He still looked pretty colorful, but he was sitting up and in pretty good spirits, so he was obviously improving.

  “I’m not sure what will happen to them,” Diana said. “From what I understand, they’re also here semi-legally, so they can’t be deported. Although someone could make a case of them working illegally, I suppose. Although anyone who tried would likely be crucified in the media.”

  We all nodded.

  “So they may be allowed to stay. If they want to. I think at least one of them does.”

  Zachary looked cheered. I guess he assumed, as I did, that the one who wanted to stay might be Tatiana.

  “Happy endings all around,” I said.

  Diana nodded. She glanced around the kitchen. “I didn’t think I’d see you back here. When you moved into the penthouse, I thought that was it.”

  “So did I. But this is temporary.” Until Rachel got back on her feet again and could move home, and until we found Zachary somewhere else to live.

  After a second I added, “The dog seems to like it.”

  Edwina opened an eye, slapped her stubby tail against the floor a couple of times, and went back to sleep.

  “So I see.” Diana sounded amused. “You’re keeping her?”

  I was. She was good company. I liked having her around. And giving her a happy home—while Araminta, who had wanted to give Edwina to the pound, spent the rest of her days in prison—seemed like poetic justice.

  “Besides,” I added, “David never would allow me to have a dog. He was always afraid it would scratch his floors and dig holes in his lawn. She’s better company than David ever was. And I cheer every time she pees on the grass.”

  “Good for you,” Diana said. “So you’re continuing the business?”

  Rachel and Zachary both looked at me, as if they were concerned about my answer. I had no idea why they would be.

  “Of course I’m continuing the business. Just because Steven wasn’t guilty of cheating, doesn’t mean there isn’t some other married bastard out there right now, running around behind his wife’s back with some girl half his age.”

  Diana looked amused. “I’m sure there is.”

  “We’re planning to have an open house next week. I’m inviting all the wives of David’s old clients.” There were plenty of trophy wives among them. Wives who were now hitting thirty-five and forty, whose husbands were probably looking to replace them with even younger models. “If you know anyone who might qualify, feel free to send them our way.”

  I gave her the day and time.

  “I’ll be sure to do that,” Diana promised. She pushed back her chair and got to her feet. “I should be getting home.”

  I got up, too. “I’ll walk you out.”

  We headed down the hallway in silence. At the door, she gave me a hug. “Thanks for everything, Gina.”

  “No problem,” I said, squeezing back. “I’m glad it all worked out.” She hadn’t lost a husband, she had gained a daughter.

  Although until I knew a little more about how she felt, it was probably best not to say that out loud.

  So I watched her get into her car and maneuver slowly down the driveway, and when she reached the bottom and disappeared down the road, I shut and locked the door and went back to the kitchen.

  Zachary and Rachel were still at the table. Edwina looked up when I came in, decided I was no threat, and closed her eyes again. I sat back down.

  A few seconds ticked by.

  “You know,” I said, “I don’t think we did too badly for our first official case.”

  They both stared at me.

  “OK, so you both ended up in the hospital. I almost did, too. And we almost got killed a couple of times.”

  They both nodded.

  “And we didn’t make any money.”

  Rachel winced. Zachary smirked.

  “But we saved Diana’s marriage.” And all right, it probably would have saved itself, since Steven wasn’t actually cheating. But that wasn’t all. “We saved three Russian girls from prostitution. We helped solve a murder and get the murderer sent to prison. We stopped a human trafficking ring. And on top of that, we saved a little dog from the pound.”

  We all turned to look at her. She grinned back at us, stubby tail thumping.

  “I think we did good,” I said.

  Nobody said anything for a moment. Then Zachary lifted his glass of Dr. Pepper. “To us.”

  I raised mine, and Rachel did the same. We clinked them together. “To us.”

  And we all drank. To us, and to our next case. Hopefully not too far in the future.

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  About the Author

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jenna Bennett (Jennie Bentley) writes the Do It Yourself home renovation mysteries for Berkley Prime Crime and the Savannah Martin real estate mysteries for her own gratification. She also writes a variety of romance for a change of pace. Originally from Norway, she has spent more than twenty five years in the US, and still hasn’t been able to kick her native accent.

  For more information, please visit Jenna’s website: www.JennaBennett.com

  STALKING STEVEN

  Fidelity Investigations #2

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  Copyright © 2018 Bente Gallagher

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