I stopped at a wine shop and purchased a bottle of Syrah and some snacks for later. Back at the hotel, I poured a glass, then checked my messages. There was a voicemail from Josh.
“Hey, cupcake. How long is this road trip going to be? I miss you. Call me.”
I miss him, too. Oh, how I miss him. However I don’t want to talk to him. But I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I called. After two rings, I disconnected with relief and texted: I called, but you didn’t pick up. Hope everything’s okay with Nicole. Really tired and going to bed early. Then I realized it was only a little past five-thirty, so I added: Grubbing dinner first. I meant to type grabbing, but oh well.
I called Sam with an update on what I’d learned that day. She got upset about my plan to try and verify if the woman that was harassing the tent-boys was Erin.
“I think you should call that Detective what’s-her-name.”
“It’s Murphy.”
“Whatever. Let her decide what to do, instead of putting yourself in danger,” said Sam.
“And tell her what? That there’s a bitchy woman who doesn’t like the tent-boys? I don’t want to risk getting Jessie and Seth in trouble for nothing.”
“I still think you should call her,” she said, sounding grumpy. “That guy said she looked classy and rich. Erin looked classy and rich, too. She sure had me fooled.”
“I think a lot of people look like that in this town.”
“The thing is, Katy. If that woman’s so upset about those guys living in the tent, why hasn’t she called the police? Isn’t that what most people would do? Unless they’re wanted by the police.”
Chapter Forty
COINS AND CADAVERS
WEDNESDAY • MARCH 11
Posted by Katy McKenna
Saturday, March 7
Part One
My phone hollered, “Time to get up, Sleepy Head. NOW!” I thought it was hilarious when I downloaded the alarm app, but it’s not that funny at six-thirty in the morning. After getting dressed and slapping on a little makeup, I fed Daisy and turned on Animal Planet so she wouldn’t get lonely while I was gone. When she saw me sling my purse over my shoulder, she pranced around the door, ready for action.
“Sorry, kiddo, but Mama can’t take you this time. I need to be real sneaky, and that’s not one of your strong suits.”
She disagreed, but I slipped out the door while she was distracted by a dog cookie.
I parked at the end of Cranston Lane and donned my sleuthing disguise—baseball cap and sunglasses, then zipped my phone and keys into my black windbreaker pocket. The overcast morning was a damp and chilly 53, so I zipped to my chin, wishing I’d layered with a sweater.
Staying in the shadows, I crept down the street. Before crossing the bitchy lady’s cobblestone driveway, I peeked around the entrance pillar to make sure no one was in the front yard.
At the far end of the vacant property, I hunted for something to stand on so I could look over the stone wall. I remembered a picnic bench outside the tent and lugged it to the wall.
The estate’s native drought-tolerant landscaping had spacious areas for lounging and entertaining. On the far side of the yard, a whimsical tree house clung to a sprawling oak tree, and was surrounded by a play area and a bike path. I snapped a few photos, focusing mainly on the guest home, thinking if the woman the boys had complained about truly was Erin, maybe she was renting it. It was single level, with a courtyard sitting area. I texted the pictures to Samantha, then decided to give her a quick call.
“Hey! I wasn’t sure if you were at work or not, but I had to call. Check your texts, I just sent some photos.”
“Okay. Checking. Oh, wow. Casey would go nuts over that tree house. Do people really live like this?”
“They do here,” I said. “I doubt there are any homes like this in Santa Lucia. It’s all the techie money up here. Bill Gates—”
“Pretty sure he lives in the Seattle area. On Lake Washington in a mega-house,” said Sam.
“Jeff Bezos—”
“Him, too. I think.”
“Okay. The Google people,” I said.
Suddenly, something sharp dug into my back. I dropped my phone and almost tumbled off the bench. Clutching the mossy stone wall, I turned to see Erin pressing a shushing finger over her smiling lips. Her other hand held a gun. She handed my phone to me and whispered, “Time to say bye-bye, Katy.”
“Uh, Sa-man-tha?” I said.
“What happened?” said Sam.
“I dropped the phone. Got to go now. Love you.”
Sam hollered. “Wait! Do you see—”
Staring down at my nemesis, I ended the call.
“Heard you visiting the squatters yesterday. I couldn’t believe it when I heard your voice,” said Erin, shaking her bleached blonde head. “You’re supposed to be dead. At first I thought I’d have to kill all of you, right then and there, but then you said you’d be back this morning and those losers said they’d be at work.” She laughed. “Sure would’ve been difficult dealing with so many dead bodies. Guess where I’ve been hiding?”
“I have no idea.” I tried to sound bold, but was terrified that my luck had run out.
“In the tent. I watched you get the bench. Could have stopped you right then but wanted to see what you’d do.” She expelled an exasperated sigh. “Get down.”
I was trembling so hard I had to crouch and grip the edge of the bench to step off. “What’re you going to do?”
She shook her head like I was a petulant child. “I already spared you once and look how that turned out.”
“You left me to die. How was that sparing me?”
Erin regarded me with cold eyes. “Point taken. But you being alive has really screwed things up for me.” She snorted a laugh. “Enough with the chit-chat. Let’s go, cousin.”
“Where?”
She gnawed her lower lip—a habit I’d found endearing before all the bad stuff happened. “To the house. For now.” She waved the black automatic. “Just walk along like we’re besties. If we see someone and you do anything to get their attention, you’ll both be dead. I’m already wanted for one murder, so what’s a couple more?”
She had a point, and the gun sealed the deal. As I stumbled through the weeds, panic gripped my heart, and I could barely catch my breath. “Hold on a sec.” I bent over, hands on knees, trying to breathe.
“Wow. Talk about out of shape.”
I glanced up at her. “I’m not out of shape, Erin. I’m scared.”
“Too bad you’re so fucking greedy. You just had to try and get the money back, didn’t you? Big mistake.”
“I know you won’t believe this, but I was on a road trip, and you’re the last person I expected to see.”
“And yet, here you are.” She waved her gun-free hand, taking in her family’s former home on one side of the vacant lot, and the house on the other side that she was staying in. “Snooping around. So no, I don’t believe you.”
“I heard the story about your parents and wanted to see what your father walked away from so he could marry your mother and raise you. By the way, they miss you.” I was stalling, hoping I’d see someone pass by on the street that I could scream “call the police” to.
“How would you know?”
“I met them. Nice people. You know, they’re my relatives, too.”
“Did you tell my parents what I did?”
“No. But I know the police have.”
Her shoulders sagged, but the gun aimed at me never wavered. “You really shouldn’t have come here, Katy.”
“I thought you were in Costa Rica.”
“That’s what you were supposed to think.”
“What about Tyler? He sure sounded like that was the plan.”
“It was never the plan. He just didn’t know it.” Erin stepped behind me and jabbed the gun in my ribs. “You’re breathing fine now, so let’s go.”
At the home’s driveway entrance, Erin poked a code into the secu
rity keypad, and the double gates swung open. All business now, she picked up the pace, directing me toward the main house’s front entrance. She used a code to open the double door, and ushered me into an expansive two-story foyer where we were greeted by a tiny, cheerful Yorkie.
“Hey, there’s my little Lulu.” She scooped up the dog with one hand while still keeping the damned gun on me. She nuzzled the dog’s head. “Have you been a good girl?”
“Is that your dog?”
“Yes. Remember I told you I had a Yorkie.”
“I figured that was a lie, too. Don’t the people who own this house have a dog?” The tent-boys had mentioned a barking dog.
“They do. But he was big and too rough with Lulu, so I—”
“Oh my God. You didn’t kill it, did you?”
“No. What do you take me for? I would never hurt an animal. I’m boarding him at a kennel. A nice one. I even paid for daily walks.”
She pointed down a hallway. “There’s a huge closet in the hall that locks. More like a room, actually. Don’t try anything funny with me, because I swear I’ll use the gun.” She laughed, kissing Lulu’s nose. “Mommy sounds like some cheesy thug on a cop show, doesn’t she?”
I led the way through the art-lined passage to a wood plank arched door. She set Lulu down and inserted an old skeleton key into the lock. “Pretty cool, huh? They got this antique door at a salvage yard.”
As she pulled the door open and turned on the light, I said, “Whose house is this?” I was playing for time, hoping I could get the upper hand and snatch the gun.
“Funny story.” She leaned against the doorjamb, directing the gun at my soft belly. “Around the same time I connected with you, I hooked up with an old high school friend on Facebook. Turns out she’d always wondered what had happened to me way back when. I wasn’t about to tell her the truth, so I said my father died suddenly, and my brokenhearted mother had taken me to live with relatives in France. This house belongs to her, and I’m housesitting while she and her family are on an extended trip in Europe. And you want to know the funny part?”
No. “What?”
“Amelia was so, so grateful that I would do this huge favor for her.” She laughed, shaking her head. “What she doesn’t know is I knew she lived on Cranston Lane and that’s the reason I Facebooked her. Then right before they were scheduled to leave, she posted that she was in a panic because their housesitter had been hit by a car—a hit and run.” Erin shook her head. “I tell you, people shouldn’t post so much about their personal life. I mean, I never would’ve known about Amelia’s trip or who her housesitter was if they hadn’t been commenting back and forth. Everything they posted was coming through my newsfeed. Luckily, Sara, the housesitter, will survive, but she’s in pretty bad shape. So I stepped up and offered to housesit.”
“You mean you hit the housesitter with your car?”
“In my defense, I didn’t mean to hit her that hard. Just enough to put her out of commission for a while, but it’s hard to judge these things. Plus, she was walking her dog, and I had to swerve so I wouldn’t hit it.” She shrugged with a wry smile. “It’s kind of like kismet, don’t you think? Everything is finally going my way. I’m living on Cranston Lane, and thanks to you, it won’t be long before I own the family mansion.”
“You do realize the police are looking for you, right?” I said. “The minute you try to buy that house, they’ll arrest you.”
“The cops think I’m in Costa Rica, remember? And it’s not like I’ll use my real name. I’ve already sold a few coins in Las Vegas to keep me in cash. Going to Vegas was the one good idea that Tyler had. It was incredibly easy to find a buyer who didn’t ask questions there. When I get them all sold, I’ll set up a dummy off-shore corporation to buy the house. When the time is right, I’ll make them an offer they can’t refuse.”
“What if they won’t sell?”
“You know what they say, everyone has a price.”
“Where are you keeping the coins?” I asked.
“Katy. Get real. Do you really think I would tell you that? Trust me, they’re hidden where no one will ever find them.” She pushed away from the doorjamb. “It was fun having this little catch-up, but I’ve got things to do, so in you go.”
I stepped into the spacious linen closet, and just as she was closing the door, my phone chirped a text alert in my pocket.
She held out her hand. “I’ll take that.”
The illuminated face said the text was from Samantha.
Erin glanced at the phone. “What’s your password? I’ll answer Sam’s text for you, so she won’t worry.”
I kept my mouth shut.
Erin glanced at my shoes, making her point loud and clear. “Remember when I almost shot your toe off?”
“1776.”
“How patriotic.” She slammed the door in my face and locked it.
I tied my windbreaker around my waist and slumped against the wall on the tile floor. I knew there wouldn’t be any last-minute reprieves this time.
“Oh, God. Daisy. She’s going to be so scared.” I thought about her trapped and frightened in the hotel room, not knowing where her mama was. I ripped the baseball cap off my head and flung it. “How could I be so damned stupid?” I sobbed, gasping convulsively. “Why did I do this? Why? Why? Why?”
I was close to hyperventilating and had to get control of myself, or I didn’t stand a chance. I stood and leaned over, forcing myself to breathe slow, deep breaths. Gradually, I regained control.
The roughly eight-by-ten closet was neatly organized with labeled places for everything. Turkish towels, Egyptian cotton sheets, cashmere blankets, down pillows, toilet paper, French milled soap.
I tossed the shelves, and dumped every bin looking for something I could use as a weapon. I found a label maker and typed: Erin Cranston killed Katy McKenna. When the machine expelled the tape, I stuck it on a wall where someone would see it when they cleaned up this mess. Then I realized Erin would be the one putting the linens back, so I refolded a stack of towels and stuck the label on the last one, then set the pile on the proper shelf. Someday, someone would see it and tell the police what happened to me.
I hid the label maker, in case I got more information about my fate. Then a niggle of hope bubbled up. Erin couldn’t kill me in the closet. She would have to take me somewhere else. That meant I still had a chance.
Chapter Forty-One
COINS AND CADAVERS
THURSDAY • MARCH 12
Posted by Katy McKenna
Saturday, March 7
Part Two
After ransacking the linen room, I sat on a pile of snowy-white blankets to figure out an escape plan. It had been about thirty minutes since Erin had locked me in, so time was running out.
The only exit was the sturdy wood door. It opened outward—a good idea because it left more wall space for storage. But bad for me because I couldn’t hide behind the door when Erin opened it.
My first idea was to stand flat against the wall nearest to the door handle. That way she wouldn’t immediately see me when the door opened out into the hall. Then as she stepped in, I would jump her and shove her into the wall, then grab the gun and run. And probably get shot before I could wrestle the weapon out of her hand.
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to think and not let fear overwhelm me again.
When she comes through the door, I could fling a sheet over her head, and while she’s flailing around, I’ll run out and lock her in the closet. Except she’ll have the damned key, so I can’t lock the door. Then she’ll chase me through the house and shoot me.
I inhaled a deep breath, willing the oxygen to rev up my sluggish gray matter.
I could twist a sheet into a rope and fling it around her neck and strangle her. And probably get shot during the struggle. Really like the strangling part, though.
I...could.... My eyes darted around the room for inspiration. I could stuff a sheet into a pillowcase and wallop her with it. Then
when she doubles over, bash her in the head—knocking her to the floor, then snatch the gun. Then lock her in the closet.
“That might work!” I grabbed a king pillowcase, and jammed a sheet into it and swung it around.
“Shit! This won’t do anything. It needs to be heavier.”
I crammed another sheet inside the pillowcase, but it still wasn’t heavy enough to knock her off her feet.
“So much for that brilliant idea.” I dropped the sack, feeling desperate. “God, I’m running out of time.”
A blue plastic five-gallon water jug sat in the corner. I raised it a few inches off the floor. It must have weighed forty or fifty pounds, so hitting Erin with it wasn’t happening.
“Think, Katy. She’s gonna be back any minute.”
Maybe if the jug was empty, I could hit her with it. But what do I do with all the water? I can’t pour it on the floor. It’ll flow under the door and Erin will see it before she opens it. I dragged the jug to the middle of the room, pried off the cap, and poured the water on the pillowcase until the sheets inside had soaked up about two gallons. Now the jug weight was manageable. I did a few experimental swings with it, but I couldn’t get a good grip on the short neck or the inset handle. It was too cumbersome with the water whooshing back and forth inside and I doubted I could inflict any damage with it. I set the jug in the corner and looked at the drenched sack of sheets. I swung the cotton bag back and forth a few times, spraying water on the walls and floor. It was heavy but manageable.
“I can definitely do some damage with this.”
Now surging with a fresh rush of adrenaline, I felt proud for not giving up. “Just call me Katy MacGyver.”
I leaned against the wall and waited. Finally, I heard Erin’s shoes tapping in the hall. Feet spread wide for good balance, I held my hefty, dripping weapon, ready to wallop the bitch to kingdom come.
Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection Page 73
