“We’ll search the car for it.”
Emily poked her daughter in the ribs, knowing she was lying.
“Toby’s still out there,” Naomi said low enough that only Emily heard her.
She hadn’t wanted to believe him, but Hap was right. Rural Florida was still the wild west.
“Eventually, he’s going to claim you tried to kill him, you know,” said Lewis.
“I don’t think so, too much male ego involved for him to admit his wife shot him,” said Naomi. There was a knowing smile on her face. But it was quickly replaced by a look filled with despair. “It was self-preservation. He had that slimy detective kidnap me and then he was going to have at me. Like he did so many times before. I’ll never get away from him.”
“Did you try to kill him?” asked Lewis.
Naomi stuck her chin out and looked Lewis in the eye. “I hit him where I aimed,” she said.
“Good shot,” Lewis said.
“I lied. I aimed for the other arm.” She shrugged.
Lewis winked and patted her shoulder. “We’ll sort this one out tomorrow then.”
“Okay, kids. Enough of this shooting talk. God, I hate guns.” Emily shook her head and poked her tongue out of her mouth in disgust. “I’ve got a court date in . . .” she checked her watch, “in less than eight hours and I’d like to go home for some rest and a shower. I can get back into the park, can’t I?’
“I understand everything is operational. It may not smell so pretty around there, but no homes were damaged by the flames. It came close, but the fire is out for several miles beyond the area,” said Lewis.
When Donald offered to follow them home, she turned him down.
Lewis, not to be outdone by Donald’s offer, said, “Or you might want a police presence when you enter the house.”
“We’ll be fine,” she said.
“Well, if you don’t want a ride, I think I’ll mosey on over to the hospital. See how things are going there,” said Donald.
Lewis hesitated for only a minute. “I’ll go with you. The officer guarding Barry’s room must be due for a break soon. I’ll spell him while you deliver our greetings to Barry.”
“You’re awfully quiet,” Naomi said to Emily in the car.
“I’m beat. Aren’t you?”
“Yep, but you’ve got something on your mind, don’t you?”
“Okay, I do, but if I tell you, I want the truth from you. What do you know about Darren’s father?” Emily glanced across the seat at her daughter.
Naomi looked surprised at the astuteness behind her mother’s question. She tried to convert her expression into one of naiveté. “I don’t . . .”
“Honey,” said Emily, “I’m too tired and too old for games.”
“I found his birth certificate in the backpack he left in the guest room. I took it with me when Toby picked me up.”
“And?”
“It said that his father was someone named Morton Davey.”
Emily wasn’t surprised at the name. She’d guessed the truth about Darren’s birth because of the picture of his father she’d found in Clara’s bedroom. She understood Clara’s insistence Darren not be connected to the Davey family. Emily had no difficulty believing Marcus murdered his brother and might be capable of removing a nephew who stood to inherit part of the ranch. But now, Marcus was dead, and that changed things.
Naomi squirmed around in her seat and interrupted Emily’s thinking. “Clara lied about Darren’s father and then she lied again to cover up the first lie. I guess I don’t understand, but Detective Toby sure seemed to.”
“What do you mean?”
“He snatched that birth certificate like it was the winning lottery ticket.”
Emily’s mouth opened in shock. Lewis’ words about Toby being a gofer came back to her. She twisted the steering wheel abruptly to the right. With tires spitting gravel, she pulled into a driveway, made a U-turn, and headed back into town.
Naomi grabbed the handle above the passenger’s window and held on. “What are you doing?”
“I think Toby just signed Darren and Clara’s death warrants. Got your cell with you?’
“No. Toby took it from me in the car. What about yours?”
“Mine needs to be recharged. Damn.” She pounded on the steering wheel and pushed harder on the gas.
“Tell me what we’re doing.”
“We’ve got to get back to Clara’s house. I think Toby’s there with his bosses. They’re planning to tie up final loose ends.”
Emily blew through the stop signal and skidded into a right turn at the next corner. The streets were empty.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said. She applied the brakes and hopped the curb at the Home Depot store, speeding through their parking area and exiting behind the garden shop. “I’m going to drop you at the police station. It’s ahead. You run in and get some cops over to Clara’s house.”
“Why? What do I tell them?”
“Tell them one of their detectives is in danger. That he’s being held at gun point.”
“Is that true?”
“No, of course not, but it’ll get their attention, more so than taking the time to explain everything.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“I’ve got to get to Clara’s to make certain Toby and his friends don’t leave until the cops come.”
Naomi grabbed the door handle as they careened around a corner. “How are you going to do that?”
“I’m working on a plan.” Emily skidded to a stop in front of the station. “Now go on.”
“I think I should stay with you.”
She reached across and opened the door, shoving her daughter in the direction of the building.
“Ouch. Stop it. I haven’t unbuckled my seat belt.” Naomi clicked the button and slid out, then reached back into the car, extracted something from her backpack and threw it on the seat. “You might need this.” She slammed the door and ran up the steps.
Emily punched the accelerator and glanced at the object lying on the seat beside her. Darren’s revolver. It looked huge to her in the dim illumination of passing street lights. She wouldn’t touch it. She’d out-maneuver them with a cunning plan—if she could come up with a cunning plan.
She cruised by Clara’s house with her headlamps off. Only a crack of light showed through the closed drapes in the front window. Her hunch was correct. Toby’s police SUV sat in the drive. She spotted another car when she turned the corner two houses down. She parked Stan behind the late model Lexus and ran through the backyards of the houses separating her from Clara’s. Please let there be no dogs, she prayed to the canine-be-good gods.
The heavy night pressed down on her, the smell of burned wood and other vegetation still strong in the air, making her breathing difficult, slowing her pace when she needed to hurry. She worked her way around the house where she peeked through the hibiscus bushes growing in front of the porch. She could hear the murmur of voices inside. She moved closer to the doorway and crouched below the level of the porch floor, well out of sight of her quarry but within hearing distance.
A quick peek through the screen door afforded her a sight she wanted to wipe out of her mind. Clara and Darren were trussed up like holiday gobblers ready for the oven.
“See, you don’t understand. I don’t do murder.” She recognized Toby’s voice.
“What do you call Eddie then? Didn’t I see you drop him into the river?” The voice was a man’s and one that Emily had heard before, but couldn’t place.
“Yeah, but he was already dead. That was your doing, not mine. I seem to be cleaning up a lot of your messes,” Toby said. “And I don’t get your shenanigans popping him in Green’s boat, then stealing it and parking it in that little gal’s drive.”
“Keep your voice down or you-know-who will get upset and start yelling.” Emily had to lean in closer to catch the next words. “It was her idea to do in Marcus by using Eddie’s wife’s gun. She�
��s plenty clever playing around with all the evidence, so don’t start questioning her methods. She gets real touchy about that.”
“So she sent you to do in Marcus. You didn’t get twitchy and the gun go off?” asked Toby.
“Eddie was supposed to do the work, but when he found out what the real job was, he backed down, then wanted to go to the cops. So we had to get rid of him and scare the hell out of that kid, Darren, because he might have seen or heard something.”
“And then you had me try to scare the hell out of his mother by shooting out the window at the club. Didn’t work, and now I’m helping you tote bodies to the river. This better be the end. I’m real tired of running these errands. They get more and more messy.”
The other man said something Emily couldn’t hear, then Toby whispered to him, “You’re a real idiot, you know. You think you’ll see any of the money? I, at least, get my pay ahead of time.”
“Let me worry about that. Besides, you’re in too deep now to back out. Tell you what. I’ll help you carry these two to the SUV, and we’ll follow you out to the lock by the marina. You can drop them into the water there and let the gators do their thing, or we’ll shot them first, then shove them into the lake. Think of it as feeding wildlife if it makes you feel better.” Whose voice was that?
In the darkened front yard Emily watched Toby and the other man struggle to carry first Clara then Darren to the SUV, throw them in the back, and slam the rear door. She heard a low moan from one of them—she thought it might be Darren—and when she peered around the bushes she was certain she saw Clara move her feet. They were alive, for now, but she had little time left.
She’d lied to Naomi about a plan, but she’d better get one fast, or her friends would be going for their last swim ever. Her heart was pounding so fast and so hard it made it difficult to hear what her brain was thinking, if it was thinking at all.
A bubble began to make its way up her esophagus. No! Not hiccups. Not now. She swallowed hard and held her breath, then let it out slowly. She couldn’t afford fear now. She had to act. Ah. Gone.
A woman appeared in the doorway as the men returned from the car. Emily looked up at a broad butt wrapped in coral and black striped pants, the stripes making the flesh underneath quiver in the dim light like a hologram. It made her dizzy. Emily silently groaned to herself. That could only mean one thing.
“If I was you,” said the voice above her, “I’d tie their legs together. The bitch kicked me.” Lucinda Davey.
“Already did that, honey,” said the man.
Of course she’d be here. Lucinda was a hands-on kind of gal. All the pieces fell into place for Emily. Lucinda wanted her husband out of the way. So she and a lover could be together? Not likely. Lucinda was too selfish for that. More likely, knowing the kind of man Marcus was, Lucinda couldn’t put up with him any longer. Emily could sympathize with not wanting the drunk around, but murder? Lucinda had gotten her way, that’s for sure.
And the nerve of her, accusing Emily of Marcus’ murder.
Emily shook with disgust at the woman, wanting to jump out of her hiding place and grab her by her long fake eyelashes. But she’d better stay hidden for now. A plan. Some plan. Any plan to stop them.
Lucinda took a step forward and plopped her hands on her ample hips. “I kicked her back. Got her good, too.”
Emily bit her lip to keep from growling out loud. Lucinda’s gofers, Toby, Eddie, and the other man did her work for her while she piously studied the scripture at her Bible study group. Clara was right. Everyone seemed to have underestimated Lucinda.
Emily caught a glimpse of her face when the widow stepped back into the house. Under all that curl and paint lurked someone as predatory as a gator, and single-minded in her pursuit of the Davey money.
And when Toby brought the birth certificate to her, the stakes were higher. Darren could claim a part of the Davey estate, and Lucinda would have none of that. Tying up loose ends tonight. Removing Darren and his mother. Emily felt like a fool, but weren’t they all fools, thinking she was merely a dumb, overly made up bimbo from a strip club on the coast. That should have been a clue. If Lucinda made it from a lap dancer to the wife of the most prominent rancher in the county, she certainly should have been able to engineer a life of wealth without an obnoxious drunk holding her back.
“Kick her again, honey. That’ll show her,” said the man.
“Don’t patronize me, Lenny. I’d like to put a slug through her skull despite the noise it’ll make. The bitch.”
Ah, said Emily to herself, Lenny Sharples. Obviously he and Lucinda had made up. Toby and Lenny. Both wrapped around Lucinda’s acrylic nailed finger. And Lenny’s motive for doing Lucinda’s bidding? He had gambling debts.
“No shooting around here, Ms. Davey,” said Toby. “You can do what you want out at the lock where no one will hear.” Toby drove off.
Emily was torn. Follow Toby or remain until Lucinda and Lenny left? Each thump of her heart felt like a second hand ticking off the time until Toby reached the lock. He might dump them into the lake without waiting for back-up.
Lucinda’s next words brought her pounding heart to an abrupt stop.
“Won’t he be surprised when he ends up in the water with the two of them. Crazy Toby, the dirty cop who couldn’t cope with being passed over for promotion, went on a killing spree, then drove his car into the lake with his latest victims in the back.”
“Well, the gun the cops will find in his house matches that used on Eddie. And they know Clara’s gun killed Marcus and will assume Eddie stole it from her to do in Marcus. Poor Toby. Couldn’t catch a break.” Lenny cackled with glee.
“Let’s go. We don’t want to be late for the feeding,” said Lucinda.
“We’ve got plenty of time. It’ll take Toby a while to get there and work up nerve enough to dump them. He’ll probably wait for us to do the work for him. How about a little smooch?” Lenny moved closer to Lucinda.
Oh, Lenny. Do you have any idea what Lucinda has in her reptilian mind for you? Emily had heard enough. She dashed around the back of the house, ran to her car, and rummaged around among the piles of clothing and other stuff she’d loaded into the back seat when she fled the fire. It has to be here someplace. Finally, her hand closed around the item for which she was searching. She slid it into her jacket pocket, started the car, and pulled it around the corner into Clara’s drive as Lenny and Lucinda ended their clinch. Their mouths dropped open in surprise.
Emily stuck her head out the driver’s side window. “You’d better get a move on. The cops’re coming. Hear the sirens?”
Lucinda stepped in front of the car. “You. Where’d you come from? Lenny, get rid of her.”
But Lenny had heard the sirens. “We’d better get out of here. Now!”
“But our plans,” Lucinda said.
“They’re useless. Let’s cut our losses and make a run for it.” He opened the car door, grabbed Emily, and tossed her out onto the lawn. “Get in,” he ordered Lucinda.
“I’m not riding in that piece of junk.”
“Your choice, baby, but I’m gone.” Lenny shifted into reverse.
When Lucinda saw he was serious, she also jumped in. “Lenny, a gun.” She took Darren’s revolver off the seat and pointed it at Emily. Emily picked herself up off the grass and looked down the wrong end of a gun barrel. I should have come up with a better plan.
Lucinda put her finger on the trigger and pulled. Nothing happened.
“You don’t think I’d carry a loaded gun around in my car, do you?” said Emily. A lie, but she wasn’t about to give Lucinda a lesson in the need to cock the weapon before pulling the trigger.
Lucinda shook the gun as if she could make it work by punishing it. “Get this sorry excuse for a car going,” she said to Lenny.
“It’s temperamental. It’s in gear, but nothing’s happening.” Lenny moved the gear shift lever back and forth between drive and reverse and stomped on the accelerator, but Stan r
efused to budge.
“Stan hates it when you tromp on him that way.” Emily wasn’t happy with Lenny’s treatment of her car, but she heard the sirens getting louder, nearer.
“What? It’s a piece of scrap metal,” said Lenny. He mashed the pedal once more.
“That’s no way to talk to Stan,” said Emily. No one abused Stan the Sedan and got away with it. She put her hand in her pocket and extracted the Walther PPK. She looked down at the weapon and shook her head, then brought it up, and aimed at the driver’s side window of the car. “Quit that or I’ll shoot.”
“Watch out. She’s got a weapon,” said Lucinda. “But it’s probably not loaded either.”
Lenny banged on the dash and slammed his foot up and down on the gas pedal. “That’s a chance I can’t take. She’s pointing it at me.” He ducked his head below the window a split second before Emily fired.
The first shot missed Lenny, but flew past Lucinda and blew the glass out of her side window.
Emily took careful aim again, reminding herself this time to keep her eyes open. The shot flew over Lenny’s head but tore a pathway through Lucinda’s big hair leaving behind a part, as if a tiny lawnmower had cut a swath through tall grass.
“She shot me,” yelled Lucinda. The car lurched backward for several feet then died at the end of the driveway. Emily silently apologized to Stan and shot out the left front tire. It took her only five shots to accomplish this but Stan wasn’t going to move now.
A police car drove up and an officer and Lewis jumped out.
“Toby took Clara and Darren to the lock to dump them in the lake,” Emily said. “He left about five minutes ago. You’ve got to save them.”
The officer dragged Lenny out of the car and cuffed him while Lewis approached Emily. “Toby took a short cut to the police station and turned himself in.”
“See, Lenny. I told you he didn’t have the guts to go through with it,” said Lucinda. She jumped out of the car and ran across the lawn.
“You can put down the gun, Emily,” Lewis said.
“Sure,” she said. She handed the gun to Lewis. “Hold this, will you?” She streaked across the lawn and tackled Lucinda who was having difficulty running because her stiletto heels dug into the soft grass. Lucinda threw her off and got up.
Dumpster Dying Page 21
