by Sam Cheever
Tiffany looked past him at me. I motioned for her to go. She shot me a grateful look, turned on her heel, and hurried toward a snappy silver sports car I remembered from the last time we’d run into Tiffany at Sonny’s.
“Mayor Robb?” I called out again.
He spun on me, his attractive face unrecognizable beneath the rage. “What do you want, Fulle? Why are you harassing me?”
I made a point of letting my less-than-genuine smile drift away. “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry if we caused you any problems. Sheriff Mulhern told us we’d bothered you. That wasn’t our intent, I promise.”
Tiffany’s little car swung away from the curb and accelerated up the street, heading out of town at a speed that was well above the thirty miles per hour limit.
I barely fought off a smug grin when Robb’s jaw tightened at the sight. He was a bully with women, and I was glad to have cost him a victim. “She looks upset. Is everything all right?”
His mouth worked like he was chewing on a lot of bad words, and I was pretty sure I heard teeth grinding together. “What can I help you with, Ms. Fulle?”
I knew I was treading a very fine line. As soon as I left, Robb would no doubt get on the phone with his best buddy, Sheriff Mulhern and tattle on me for daring to speak to him on the street. I didn’t care. With any luck, Robb would be in jail soon. “Not a thing. I really just wanted to apologize for intruding on you.”
His dark brows lowered. “By intruding on me again?”
I let a smile curve my lips. “Yes. Well. I’m off to eat lunch.”
I stopped with my hand on the door handle, turning back to him. “Mayor Robb?”
He stopped in mid-stride and dropped his head, a victim of my endless harassment. It was quite an act. “What?” he bit out.
“I was just wondering. When you were at the Fawn Hotel with Ms. Brooks the day Pam Wickham was killed, did you happen to notice anyone lurking around the hotel who shouldn’t have been there?” It wasn’t a throwaway question. I wanted to know if he’d seen my brother watching the place.
He turned around, fixing me with a cool, assessing gaze. “I thought you were told to stay off this case.”
I inclined my head. “I was.”
“And yet here you are, asking more questions about it.”
“Sir, do you always do as you’re told?”
He looked stunned for a moment, and then a new emotion crossed his face. Something that could have been real amusement. “No. I don’t. Nobody who’s worth knowing lets others tell them how to live their lives.”
If the sentiment had come from anybody else, I’d have agreed wholeheartedly. But I was afraid Robb applied that logic to dealing with women who didn’t want his attentions.
In a split-second decision that I hoped I didn’t come to regret, I leveled with him. “Someone who’s important to me is mixed up in these murders. I don’t have it in me to sit back and let them get railroaded. If you can tell me anything that will help, I’d be very grateful.”
If Robb was the murderer, he’d either claim ignorance or point the finger of blame at someone else. If he was innocent, maybe he’d tell me something I didn’t know that might be helpful.
He stared at me for a long moment. I started to believe he wasn’t going to answer my question. But he finally said, “Tiffany saw Pam Wickham fighting with someone when she came back from breakfast.”
“Did she see who it was?” I asked.
“She couldn’t describe the person. But she said it was a woman.” He frowned. “She said she recognized the woman but couldn’t quite place her.” He looked concerned about that.
“Is that bad?”
He shook his head. “I just keep thinking that it’s odd, that’s all. Tiffany lives in Indianapolis. She doesn’t know anyone here in Deer Hollow. That means either she was mistaken and she didn’t know the woman, or someone followed her here from Indy.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, the slight stubble making a crackling sound. “That’s odd, don’t you think?”
“Small world?” I said, giving him a weak smile.
“Not that small,” he disagreed. He turned and strode toward his fancy sports car without another word, leaving me with new questions and zero answers.
I suddenly wondered when Josh had blacked out the camera near Pam’s room. Had it been clear earlier in the day? If so, I could maybe discover who Pam had been fighting with before her murder. “What time did Tiffany see this argument?” I called out.
He shrugged. “She’s a late sleeper. If she went out for breakfast, it was probably ten-thirty or so when she left. I don’t know when she came back.”
Making a sudden decision, I pulled the door open and hurried into Sonny’s. Ten minutes later, I was back in my car and doing a U-turn in the middle of Main Street.
With any luck, Victoria Lass would be in her office and she could show me video of the timeframe I was looking for.
20
“Ms. Fulle. I’m surprised to see you again.” The manager’s smile was forced, and I couldn’t help noticing how she glanced toward the door as if she expected someone else to come through it. “Is Mr. Amity joining you?”
I bristled at the implication that I needed him there. “Nope. Not today. I was wondering if I could view the security feed again?”
She blinked in surprise. “Oh. Um. Of course. But there wasn’t much to see.”
I smiled tightly. “If you’ll queue it up for me, I’ll be in and out as quickly as I can.”
After a tense moment of hesitation, Victoria inclined her head. “Come with me.”
I looked around the office while the manager found the feed we’d reviewed before. Ms. Lass hadn’t put a lot of herself into the room. The narrow wall of built-in bookshelves was covered in non-fiction texts about improving management skills, customer service, and PR practices in the hotel industry, all reads that were likely as dry as desert air. I did see a few well-worn novels on the bottom shelf and itched to look at them to see what a serious, professional woman like Victoria Lass liked to read in her free time.
“There you go,” she announced, rising from her chair. “I’ll leave you to it. I have some details to see to at the front desk.”
“Thank you,” I told the other woman, standing back until she passed. I seated myself at her desk as she reached the door.
Victoria turned back to me as I began to scroll backward through the feed. “This has been very upsetting,” she told me.
I looked up in surprise, thinking for just a beat that she was referring to my looking at the security feed. “I’m sorry?”
She flipped a well-manicured hand in the general direction of the rooms. “These murders. Our reservations have dropped by thirty percent almost overnight.” She frowned, and my heart hurt for her. “We’re trying to find the culprit,” I assured her. “The sooner we do that, the sooner you can recover.”
She nodded, her brow furrowing. “I don’t suppose…”
I waited for her to finish, but she seemed to change direction. “Mr. Medford is very unhappy with me.” Her form sagged as if the admission had wrung her dry.
I had a flash of intuition. She wanted me to speak to him for her. “None of this is your fault.”
She shook her head. “I’d love to accept that, but I’ve been lax in the area of security. He’s right to blame me.”
“Garland Medford is the last person to blame someone else for things outside their control. Nothing in your experience would have led you to believe those murders would happen. He’ll want you to adjust and change accordingly, but Garland wouldn’t punish you for something you couldn’t have seen coming. He’s not that kind of person.”
She relaxed slightly, nodding. “Thank you for that. I hope you’re right.”
“I am,” I said, sounding more certain than I felt. I made a decision right then to speak to Garland on the woman’s behalf after we caught the murderer. Assuming Victoria Lass wasn’t in any way involved, of course.
S
he left me to my perusal of the feed, and I got right to it. Going back over the parking lot footage again, I noticed the same things we’d seen before, my chest tightening when I spotted Joshua parked under that tree. The camera scanned the lot and, though a couple of the cars seemed vaguely familiar, nothing new cropped up. I’d probably just seen the cars in town or at Martin Robb’s party since it seemed a few of his guests had chosen to stay over at the Fawn.
Satisfied we hadn’t missed anything there, I switched perspectives and scanned backward through the hours of the day, going just slowly enough that I’d see what I was looking for.
I found it around the ten AM mark.
Pammie Wickham appeared on the wooden walkway and started for her room. She was wearing running clothes and sneakers, her dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Before Pammie reached her room, a woman stepped out of the shadows, cutting her off.
Pam jerked to a surprised stop, one hand flying to her mouth. Clearly, she hadn’t known the woman was there. Unfortunately, her visitor was half-hidden by shadow. But something about her movements seemed familiar. I squinted at the recording but couldn’t quite make out the second woman’s features. She was obviously angry. Her movements were stiff and aggressive, and, for a moment, she put Pam Wickham back on her heels.
But then Pam seemed to pull herself up and she moved close, stabbing a finger toward the woman who’d surprised her. The two women appeared to indulge in a screaming match for a few minutes, and then Pam shoved past her assailant, nearly sending the other woman to the ground with the force of her shove.
With a final shouted word over her shoulder, Pammie Wickham opened the door of her room and stepped inside. The door slammed closed behind her.
I watched as the woman stepped out of the shadows, gasping when I saw her face clearly for the first time.
Cecily Addams.
Well now. That was a worm in the apple for sure.
Hal didn’t answer his phone. I tried him several times on the way to Cecily’s home. Panic clawed at my throat as I remembered that she’d been on Hal’s interview list for the day. I told myself it would be okay. Surely, Cecily Addams wasn’t a killer. Even if she was, she wouldn’t stand a chance against Hal, right? He was smart and fast and…he had no idea Cecily might be dangerous.
I suddenly had trouble breathing, and my foot pressed harder on the gas. He wouldn’t be expecting Cecily to be the killer. I’d heard it in his voice when he’d told Arno he’d talk to her. He was dotting all the I’s, clearing suspects. She could easily catch him off guard.
Why wasn’t he answering his dang phone?!
Buried in my thoughts and worries, I didn’t notice the siren wailing behind me at first. By the time I looked in the mirror to find it, the sheriff’s vehicle was riding way too close to my bumper. With the sun glancing off the windshield, I couldn’t even tell who was driving.
Fear formed what felt like a fist-sized knot in my throat. Fear for Hal. Fear that I wouldn’t be able to talk whoever was driving the cruiser into letting me go. Or even better, talk them into coming with me to make sure my PI was okay.
I pulled over and fought the urge to open the door. Police etiquette said such an action would be seen as a sign of aggression, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. In the mirror, I saw the big man saunter toward my car. I put my hands out of the window and started talking before he came even with the Jeep. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the siren. You need to help me. I think Hal might be in trouble.”
The big cop stopped near my open window, looking down at me with a glint in his brown eyes. “Joey Fulle. Where are you going in such a hurry?”
I squinted against the sun to look up at him. “I think Hal’s talking to the killer. I can’t reach him on the phone, and I’m really worried.”
Sheriff Mulhern’s eyes widened in surprise. “You found the killer?”
“I’m not sure. But I saw Pammie Wickham fighting with someone at the hotel right before she was killed. I’m pretty sure that person is the killer. We need to go.” Panic flared as he took a moment to think about what I’d said. He was too slow. Too deliberative in his thinking.
“Please,” I urged, not even sure I knew what I was begging him to do.
The sheriff tipped his hat back on his head. “Who’s this person you think is the killer?”
In desperation, I did the only thing I could think of to get him moving. “I promise I’ll tell you that, but we need to get moving.”
He eyed me a moment longer and then reached for my door. “Ride with me. We can go faster with the sirens.”
Relief swelled through me. I quickly climbed out of the car and started toward the sheriff’s cruiser. “No SUV today?” I asked as he reached toward the door.
He laughed. “It’s in the shop. Tell ya the truth, I really wish I had it.” He pulled the door open for me.
“Really? I said, trying to smile. Is it more comfortable?”
His hand slipped toward his hip and came up holding a gun. Something mean and shifty passed through his eyes even as my brain struggled to make the switch. “No. It’s better for hauling bodies.” I saw the movement and barely had time to duck instinctively before the gun connected with my skull, and the world fell away.
Jeezopete! My head’s killing me. I was lying on something smooth and lumpy that smelled like manure. The space where I’d been dumped was like a sauna. It was so hot, my clothing was drenched and my hair stuck to my face and neck in dripping clumps.
I’d been working my way toward consciousness for a while, but there was a narrow beam of light coming from somewhere, and every time I tried to open my eyes, that light drilled a hole in them, forcing me to slam them closed again.
My whole body was sore as if I’d been dragged behind a horse for a few miles. I tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but my wrists and ankles were bound together with something and my balance was off. I kept nose-diving back to my lumpy perch.
In the distance, muffled voices had been keeping up a running commentary for a good part of my pain-filled awareness.
“…can’t believe you brought her here!”
“What did you want me to do with her? This is your mess I’m trying to clean up.”
I focused on the words that I could suddenly hear more clearly. My battered brain slowly settled on the knowledge that the two men I could hear were moving closer.
As soon as I realized that, I started to struggle.
“What do you plan to do with her?” the man with Mulhern asked on a harsh whisper.
“I’m gonna take her to the river.”
If I was panicked before, the sheriff’s cold, merciless tone propelled me to new levels of anxiety. Not the river! Falling beneath the roiling surface of the Fawn River and being dragged to the murky bottom in the water’s icy embrace was my worst nightmare. I’d rather take a bullet to the head than drown in the river.
I pushed against the foul-smelling surface beneath me and almost managed to sit up. Dizziness swamped me, turning the world into a carnival ride that threatened to bring up the contents of my stomach.
I slammed back down just as a metallic shriek warned me that Mulhern and friend had arrived in my prison. There was nothing to do but play like I was still unconscious. I’d look for an opportunity to escape somewhere along the way to the Fawn.
Think, Joey! I admonished myself. I assessed every small detail available and decided I was somewhere on the mayor’s large property. I tried to remember if the river crossed nearby. I thought it did, a realization that squeezed my lungs with icy fingers, making it hard to breathe.
I needed time.
Time and luck.
Hal and Arno would surely realize I was missing. Somebody would find my car abandoned alongside the road. Could they track my cell phone, which was dangit! still sitting in the console of my car? Why hadn’t I thought to grab my phone? But, even if they found my car, how would they know where to look for me?
Despair threate
ned to send me into a full-blown panic attack. I struggled to breathe while still trying to fake unconsciousness.
“How are we going to explain that she’s missing? That boyfriend of hers will know something funny happened.”
“Don’t worry about Amity. He’s next on my list.”
Ruthless hands snagged me off the ground and threw me over an unrelenting shoulder. I grunted and fought the sensation that I couldn’t fill my lungs with enough air. “He’ll be only too eager to come with me when I tell him I think I know where his pretty little girlfriend is.”
I barely kept from groaning. Mulhern was right. Hal would come with him in a heartbeat. He’d have no reason to doubt the sheriff’s intentions.
I gave up trying to act unconscious and started to wriggle and kick. Unfortunately, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, I couldn’t do much except make the sheriff laugh.
“Are you sure this is necessary?”
I was getting pretty sick of Robb’s whiny voice. “You aren’t going to get away with this,” I warned as I tried to kick Mulhern in the crotch. I was off target by about six inches, barely grazing his thigh.
Mulhern opened the back door of the cruiser and threw me inside. I hit the slick plastic of the back seat hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs. I wheezed miserably, crumbling to the floor as I fought to breathe. “I already have, young lady. You might as well make peace with the fact that you and your PI are both dead.”
“Good luck with that,” Robb, the coward, said. “I want no part of this.”
The sound of flesh smashing against flesh was distinct. Robb’s body slammed into the side of the car and slid to the ground with the screech of leather against metal. Someone grunted, and I dragged myself back onto the seat in time to see Mulhern dragging Robb back up and slamming him against the car. He got in the other man’s face, his thick finger stabbing against Robb’s chest. “You created this mess. You. Not me. By killing Calliente. I’m helping you clean it up. And let there be no misunderstandings on this. I expect your money and your influence in my corner during my campaign this fall. You owe me, big time.”
