by Rickie Blair
My stomach turned cold as I remembered her telling him she could identify the person who broke into Lucy’s house. What was it he said to her?
Do you realize you may have seen Lucy’s killer?
Patty had merely been showing off at the hardware store. She couldn’t identify the burglar—she’d already told me so. But Derek didn’t know that.
I glanced at my phone. Clark again.
Still no answer.
My stomach clenched as I tapped out a message to Patty.
R U OK?
No reply. I tried to slow my breathing as I waited, then sent another text. Still nothing.
Shadows had crept across the floor while I was working. With a glance out the windows, I reached over to snap on a floor lamp. It was starting to get dark. The fireworks display was due to begin in half an hour. Lorne would be back soon to take me to the park, where Emy, Clark and Patty should be waiting.
So where was Patty?
I had no reason to think she was with Derek, but I decided to call the hardware store just to make certain.
A woman answered. “Reginald’s Hardware.”
“Hi there,” I said. “I’m looking for a friend of mine who was dropping by to pick up a present. A woman about thirty, blonde ponytail, very friendly? Her name is Patty Ferris.”
“Oh, Patty,” the woman said brightly. “That nice woman from Vancouver?”
I breathed a sign of relief. “That’s her.”
“She was here. Not long ago, in fact. But she left with Derek when his shift ended.”
My stomach tightened. “Did they say where they were going?”
“He mentioned something about the Peak. Patty had never seen it and he offered to take her up there. It’s getting a bit dark now, though, so maybe they went somewhere else.”
After shutting off the call, I scrolled through four screenfuls of apps before I found the one I wanted—Hail+HeartY. When I clicked on Patty’s name, a red dot flashed on and off. I zeroed in. “Patty Ferris” was… on Pine Hill Peak.
I began a text to Clark, but realized he’d have no idea where to go. Instead, I pocketed my phone and ran outside, intending to climb into the truck and head for the trail that led to the Peak. As I slammed the front door shut, I remembered Emy’s words.
Don’t go anywhere by yourself.
Halting on the porch, I reconsidered. Then I texted her.
Patty on Peak with Derek. Danger.
No reply. By now, Leafy Hollow’s central park would be jammed with people anticipating the Founder’s Day fireworks. There would be music blaring from the bandshell, and hand-held sparklers glittering everywhere, and good-natured shouts and laughter. No wonder Emy couldn’t hear her phone. Even if she did pick up the message, it would take time to thread through the crowd to reach her car which was probably parked blocks from party central.
Fudge buckets. What should I do?
Fear overcame caution. I tapped out another text.
Heading there now.
I darted down the front steps and toward the truck.
I stuttered to a halt, staring at the empty driveway.
Lorne had the Coming Up Roses truck. And Carson was at the park with the rest of the village. Reuben regarded me forlornly from the window of the Ford Escort, where he was settling in for the night.
My frantic call to Lorne went straight to voice mail. Pacing up and down the driveway, I listened impatiently to his message before barking out my own.
“Where are you? Call me back.”
Possibly Lorne was already on his way to Rose Cottage to pick me up. Or maybe the last job of the day had taken longer than he expected and he was still mowing, taking advantage of the last half-hour of daylight. Buckets of rain during the past two weeks had left us way behind on our work. No chance of Lorne hearing his phone over the roar of the industrial mower.
Should I wait for him?
Don’t go anywhere by yourself.
No choice, I thought grimly, trotting down the driveway. If I jogged the entire distance, I could reach the entrance to the trail in less than ten minutes.
I halted at the sound of a car.
Fritz’s convertible turned up my driveway and crunched to a halt on the gravel. He angled his head out the driver’s side.
“Need a lift?”
I was in the front passenger seat in less than a second, pausing only to toss a leather backpack off the seat and onto the floor. “Pine Hill Peak,” I barked, gripping the dashboard with both hands. “Now.”
With a bemused glance, Fritz backed out of the driveway and onto Lilac Lane. “You might want to fasten your seatbelt,” he said, as the warning bell sounded.
My feet had trampled the designer backpack underfoot. Leaning over, I pushed the open bag to one side. A sheaf of papers tumbled out. With a flash of alarm, I stuffed them back in before straightening up and snapping on my seatbelt. Breathe, Verity.
“Sorry, is that in your way?” Fritz asked, slowing the car and reaching for the backpack. “I can put it in the backseat.”
“It’s fine.” I gave the backpack another shove with my foot. “Just go.”
“What’s this about?” he asked.
“Probably nothing,” I muttered. “Can you drive any faster?”
He picked up his pace. “Is it worth breaking the speed limit for? Because I’m happy to—”
“My friend Patty is on the Peak with Derek Talbot.”
“Who?”
“Derek Talbot. He works at the hardware store.”
“The one with the key chain?”
I glanced over at him. Fritz was more observant than I thought. “That’s him.”
“I don’t see the problem.”
“I could be wrong, but I think Derek pushed Lucy Carmichael off Pine Hill Peak.”
“Whoa. That is a problem.”
I leaned forward to pull my cellphone out of my pocket.
“Are you calling nine-one-one?”
“Maybe.” I stared at the phone. What, exactly, could I say? My friend’s on the Peak with a suspected killer? Please save her? What if they asked, Who suspects him? Well, that would be… me.
This was an overreaction. Probably.
The car veered around a corner and I slapped a hand against the door to steady myself. Don’t go anywhere by yourself. It wasn’t an overreaction. There was a killer on the loose.
I made the call.
“How long will it take them to get there?” Fritz asked once I’d clicked off.
“Fifteen or twenty minutes, they said. Most of the cruisers are at the park for crowd control.” A police presence was required at such a large event, although they were unlikely to face anything more challenging than overly refreshed party goers.
“So they’re not taking it seriously.”
I pressed my lips together. “Hard to say. I’m sure they take all calls seriously.” I turned to look at him, but his eyes were on the road. “Why were you driving past Rose Cottage, anyway?”
Fritz chuckled. “Good thing I was.” He swerved around another corner—I swear the car almost went up on two wheels. “Emy asked me to keep an eye on you.”
I shot him a surprised look. “Emy? Why?”
“She said there’s a murderer out there and none of you should be alone.”
Well, she had said—if necessary. I guessed this qualified. Still, I was surprised to hear Emy had taken her concerns to Fritz after referring to him as a “buffoon.” With a smile, I recalled that might have been for Lorne’s benefit.
Before putting my phone away, I tapped out another text.
Where R U?
Still no reply from Patty.
We made record time up the road to the trail entrance. Because it was midweek—and most everybody was down below, at the party—the parking lot was deserted. It was almost dark, with only a suggestion of purple clouds lingering on the horizon. We pulled into the lot and came to a halt.
Fritz got out, leaving the driver’s door open.
“Hang on a sec,” he said. “Right back.”
Then I heard the trunk open behind me.
When I turned my head, he shut the trunk with one hand, holding up a rifle with his other. I swung my feet out of the car and onto the ground.
“What are you going to do with that?” I spluttered.
“This guy could be dangerous.” He shrugged. “This is just in case.”
“In case of what? He’s not armed.”
“How do you know?”
The vicious-looking knives in the hardware store cabinet popped into my head. I pressed my lips together, trying to suppress my distrust of weapons like the one Fritz was carrying.
He walked up to me. “Hand me that backpack,” he said, motioning to the leather bag.
I yanked it out of the footwell and stood up, handing it over. “Do you have a permit for that gun?”
Fritz draped the backpack over his shoulder and turned to the gap in the parking lot fence that led to the trail. “Let’s go. If anybody asks, this”—he held up the rifle—“is for rabbits.”
Rabbits? It looked as if it might take down moose. Too bad rutting season was over. I would have liked to see that contest.
I slammed the door shut and followed him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The climb up the hill and along the trail was difficult at the best of times, but in the waning light it was impossible to avoid overhanging branches. Not only that, but twice I stumbled on gnarled tree roots and nearly fell.
When we reached the flat shale that marked the main lookout of Pine Hill Peak, streetlights were winking on in the village below. Bright yellow spotlights outlined the park in its center. Music and laughter drifted up from the Founder’s Day celebration.
Derek and Patty stood near the edge of the lookout, facing away from us, their backs lit up by the waning moon. Derek pointed to something in the distance, and Patty nodded.
I stepped forward, motioning to Fritz to stay back.
“Patty,” I called as I walked over. “Come away from there, please.”
She turned her head, grinning. “Look, Verity. You can see Lake Ontario from here. Hey, did you get my text? Is that why you’re here? Derek said you might not get it. He said the cell tower is sometimes blocked up here.”
I walked toward them with a faked casual air. “What text was that?”
“To tell you I was here, of course. Sorry, but Derek said it was an ideal spot to take photos of the fireworks. And it is—it’s spectacular, in fact.” She brandished her sad, broken phone.
“You’re too close to the edge, Patty. It’s not safe.”
“Don’t be silly. We’re fine.”
“Please, Patty. Clark is waiting for you in the park.”
“Okay.” With a shrug, she took a step toward me.
Derek grabbed her arm. “Stay.”
Patty shot him a look of surprise.
“Derek, move away from the edge,” I said. “A few steps, that’s all I ask. Then we can talk.”
Patty’s face went white. “What’s going on?”
“He won’t hurt you, Patty. Will you, Derek?”
“Hurt me? Why would he…” Her voice trailed off, her gaze caught by something behind me.
Without looking, I knew Fritz had emerged from the shadows and into the moonlight.
Derek rubbed his thumb nervously in the palm of his injured hand. “Why is he here?”
“Ignore Fritz. He doesn’t mean any harm. Let’s all go to the party. It will be fun.”
“How did you know?”
“I’m sorry?”
“About Lucy—how did you know?” Derek nodded at Fritz. “That’s why you brought him, isn’t it?”
An icy wave swept over me. So I was right.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Derek.”
“It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t mean to kill her.”
Fritz stepped up beside me and raised his rifle.
“I understand,” I said, raising a hand to hold Fritz back. “Tell us what happened.”
“I brought her here—well, not here, exactly. Farther down the trail.”
Derek pointed to a path off to one side, which I knew from my previous visit led to the labyrinth of closed trails—and, eventually, the broken fence.
“I don’t think she realized how close we were to the rim.”
“Why did you take her there?”
“Because no one uses that trail anymore, so no one would see us. I wanted to talk to her, to make her see reason. I couldn’t keep paying her.”
“She threatened to reveal your affair with Marjorie Rupert, didn’t she?”
He gave me a miserable look. “How did you know?”
Patty was frozen in place beside him, her mouth open.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Tell us the rest.”
“Lucy and I argued and I… I hit her.”
He looked away, clasping his arms tightly across his chest.
I motioned frantically to Patty. She shuffled off a few paces, still staring at his face.
“Lucy hit me back,” Derek said. “Before I knew it, we were rolling around on the ground. She whacked me in the face and poked me and…” He unclasped his arms and rubbed his hands together, over and over. “I picked up a rock and… bashed it against her head.”
My breath caught in my throat as I pictured the scene, but I swallowed my disgust. “It was self-defense,” I said. “The police will understand.”
“I didn’t kill her,” he insisted. “She was on the ground when I got up to leave, but she wasn’t dead.”
“Why didn’t you go for help?”
“Because…” His voice broke. “She stood up and staggered around a bit. There was blood on her face and I guess she couldn’t see. She went in the wrong direction. I tried to warn her, to stop her, but it was too late. She was at the edge before I could reach her.” He shuddered. “Lucy fell backward and crashed through the fence. There was nothing I could do.”
Patty sank to her knees on the rocky ground, mumbling. Which was good because at least she was breathing again.
“Derek, come with us. We’ll tell the police what happened. It was an accident.”
“They’ll put me away for life.”
“No. At worst, it was manslaughter, not murder.”
“That’s not all he did,” Fritz said behind us. He raised the rifle, pointed it at Derek, and sighted along the barrel.
Derek stepped back to the edge. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll jump,” he whimpered. “I’ll jump.”
“Go ahead,” Fritz said. His voice was cold.
“Please don’t, Derek,” I said, trying for a reassuring tone. Which wasn’t easy. My heart pounded so hard it threatened to come through my ribcage.
I swiveled to look at Fritz. “Please, put the rifle down. Derek will come to the police station with us and we’ll sort this out.”
With a snort of irritation, Fritz lowered the weapon. “He deserves to die. You realize there are two people dead. This loser must have killed them both.”
“I didn’t,” Derek wailed. “I never would have hurt Marjorie. I worked for years to get her parole approved. I wrote letters and petitions and articles.”
“Under your real name?” I asked.
“No. I made up names.”
“With Lucy’s help?”
He nodded. “She was good at that.” Derek stared into the distance, over my head, and his voice lowered to almost a whisper. I strained to hear him.
“When Marjorie finally came home and moved into that apartment over the store, she told me…” His voice broke again. “She told me to leave her alone. I’d served my purpose. Her parole was approved. What did she need me for? I went to her apartment that day to convince her to reconsider, but when I saw her body… I left.”
“Then picked up the soft drinks and returned to the hardware store?”
“That’s right.” He looked away, sliding his hands down his cheeks, pus
hing in the sides of his face. “It was awful, seeing her like that.”
“So you were present at two deaths, but not responsible for either?” I asked.
“I know how it sounds. But it’s the truth.”
Fritz elbowed me aside with an expression of barely contained fury. “You killed them both.” He raised the rifle again.
“I didn’t. I’m telling you. I don’t know who did that to Marjorie, but it wasn’t me. I never would have hurt her.”
“You’re lying.”
Derek shook his head miserably. “I loved her.” At my incredulous look, he added, “You don’t understand, Verity. We corresponded for years… Marjorie wasn’t guilty. She didn’t kill her husband. That was somebody else.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, but she wrote about it in her memoir.”
“Did you read it?”
“I never had the chance. But she told me—”
“That’s enough,” Fritz barked. He raised the rifle again, and leveled it at Derek’s face. “Don’t let him say another word. It’s all lies.” His face twisted with rage.
I froze, wondering what could have triggered so much anger over the death of a convicted killer. Unless…
The photo of Marjorie, her first husband, and a teenaged boy standing in front of a restaurant flashed through my mind. Sydney’s restaurant in Strathcona. With a shock, I recalled that the boy’s hair had been red.
“Marjorie Rupert was your mother, wasn’t she? And your father was Sydney…”
“Wallach. Sydney Wallach.” Fritz gave me a cold look, but did not lower the rifle. “Marjorie was my stepmother. My real mother died when I was born.”
“But she raised you?”
“No. My father did that. Until she came along.” His lip twisted in a snarl. “Suddenly it was Marjie this, and Marjie that. Prancing around in tight dresses, fawning over him. He owned a chain of restaurants, so we had plenty of money. Sydney promised me a sports car when I graduated from high school. Marjorie stopped that—said he was spoiling me. When really, she wanted all his money for herself.”
“That must have been hard. But—”
He kept speaking as if he hadn’t heard me. “I left home after that. Changed my name and never spoke to the old man again. Then one day, I got a visit from a private investigator. He said my father hired him to track me down because he wanted to tell me something.”
