It seemed counterproductive to me. I would have moved along the tree line and tried to stay out of sight. While we might have been far away from any people I could see at the moment, we were also out in the open without even a bush to hide behind.
Still, I had asked Mayor McConnell to get me to the boiler room without anyone seeing me and, as strange as it might sound, the dog probably knew better than me in that regard.
We moved, presumably unseen, toward the main house for about ten minutes in silence. We were close enough to hear the wedding guests milling about inside when we finally got some cover.
Bushes rose up in high, meticulously contoured designs. I ducked behind what looked like a giant ballerina with her arms stretched over her head, leaving Mayor McConnell (ironically enough) to crouch behind a huge shrub cat.
“What now, genius?” I asked, sure that one of the gardeners or, worse than that, one of the police officers that Sheriff Black hadn’t told about my situation would find us.
To them, I would just be a criminal, someone who had escaped from a police van to finish off the horrible crime she’d started. And those sort of people, I knew from my father, didn’t get treated with kid gloves.
Mayor McConnell glared at me, turned to the house and then back to me. He patted the ground three times with a paw and then turned and started toward the building.
With absolutely no idea what the paw patting meant, I started after him on my hands and knees. You know, like a proper Southern lady.
Mayor McConnell whipped around and started growling at me, baring his teeth, annoyed at me.
I pulled up short and started backing up. “Gee, okay. You wanted me to stay here. I get it. All you had to do was say so.”
He glared at me again with a tilted head, patted the ground again (this time much harder) and darted off back to the house.
I watched from behind the big green ballerina as Mayor McConnell disappeared behind a row of rose bushes. He moved around, shaking the stupid bushes as he made his way to…well, to somewhere.
He cleared the bushes, covered in thorns and leaves. I winced as I saw him. For an Irish setter that wouldn’t give me the time of day, Mayor McConnell was hardcore about this. Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised me, but it sort of did.
He settled in front of a small white square in the otherwise brick foundation. Shrugging a little, obviously uncomfortable because of the thorns now lodged in his fur, he grabbed at the rusted metal lock on the square with his teeth.
My eyes grew wide as the dog pulled at the lock until it came off in his mouth. He spit the lock out and pushed the square open, revealing an opening in the brick.
Turning to me, Mayor McConnell patted the ground with his paw again.
“Okay, I’ll stay here,” I muttered.
He hopped through the square, shimmying his way through and vanishing into the darkness.
I breathed heavily, panic rising back up in my chest.
I was out here alone now, without even the dog to keep me company. If someone found me out here now, there’d be no way I could explain it away.
I crouched even further to the ground, so far that my breaths moved the blades of grass around as I panted nervously.
Feeling a pressure on my back, my body tensed. They had found me. I was about to (once again) be slapped with handcuffs and thrown into a squad car.
Turning quickly, I threw my hands up in front of me. But I didn’t find a police officer or even an employee staring back at me.
Mayor McConnell stood over me, nudging me forward with his snout.
“Okay,” I grimaced. Finally standing up, I followed Mayor McConnell. Sure that I too was about to take a dip through the rose bushes, I was surprised to see him move toward the back of the building.
Jogging to keep up with him, I watched the former mayor round the corner. He patted toward a smallish wooden triangle that looked like a long forgotten outhouse or something.
He settled in front of it, pulled the door open with his teeth and looked back at me.
“We’re going into the old bathroom?” I asked, meeting him by the open door.
He yipped and hopped inside.
“Okay. We’re going into the old bathroom. I’m so relieved.”
I stepped in. It was dark and intrusively small. Mayor McConnell pushed against the back wall, and it opened slowly, revealing a set of dark stone steps leading down into pitch black.
“The old bathroom has a set of really dangerous looking steps, steps that remind me a whole lot of the ones I died on.” I sighed. “And here I thought this couldn’t get any better.”
My body tensed as Mayor McConnell started down those dark steps like they were age-old death traps or something.
My hands gripped the side walls tightly, knowing what I had to do but also knowing that I really didn’t want to do it.
It was a shame. I used to be so fearless in my old life. Aside from clowns, spiders, and those little potted cacti with the flowers on the top, I wasn’t afraid of anything.
Of course, that was before I learned firsthand how horribly fragile life could be. How many times was I going to be faced with this, the object of my demise, before it would be enough?
Is this what my ‘work’ was, to be forced to descend staircase after staircase until I took a tumble again and died a second time?
Maybe in my third life I’d come back as someone who used the elevator. A girl could hope.
I breathed a heavy sigh. Though I really didn’t want to do this, I knew that-if I wanted to get to the bottom of what happened to Chloe- I was going to have to. And, even in this body, it turned out I was the sort of person who could put her fears and wants aside if that meant helping those who needed it.
So I reluctantly dislodged my hands from the walls and started down the pitch black staircase. With only the sound of Mayor McConnell’s paws falling against the stone steps to guide me through this completely dark room, I moved slowly.
My fingers drug the walls on either side of this tiny staircase, feeling what was almost certainly unpainted bricks was as I descended. My heart was racing. My palms were sweating. But, on the bright side, I wasn’t worried about being found out by the police anymore.
What did worry me was the fact that Mayor McConnell’s steps were getting fainter and fainter. He was moving away from me, too fast for me to keep up with.
As a reincarnated mayor who was basically my runner up spirit guide, shouldn’t he have known that my limitations include dark staircases and moving too quickly down them?
“Slow down,” I said. But he didn’t slow down. I heard his steps come faster and fainter now until the sound stopped altogether.
“Oh great,” I muttered. Now I was all alone in this dark place, too far to turn back and with no idea of how much further I needed to go.
Taking another soothing breath, I thought about my father. He raised me all by himself after my mother died giving birth to me. Was he afraid? Yeah, probably. Did he ever show it? Not for a second.
If he could do that, if he could raise me my entire life and tackle all the girlie things that having a daughter without a mother came with, then I could march down a set of steps.
I’d just have to do it carefully.
I moved down, still slowly, singing a medley of the Temptations as I went. It was Dad’s favorite band of all time and, listening to them during Sunday drives, was one of my favorite memories. I was safe there, in the car with him. And with these songs, maybe I could feel that safe again.
Before I knew it, I could hear Mayor McConnell’s steps again. Against all odds, I had caught up with him.
Look at me, queen of the staircases.
We circled to the left, still in darkness for what felt like a lifetime. Then, just as I was beginning to resign myself to the fact that this journey was never going to end, the place illuminated.
Rays of light shown sporadically through the area.
Just as I thought, the stairs were stone, and t
he far wall was unfinished brick. But the wall nearer to me, it was wooden and, through the slits, it became clear where the light was coming from.
From the slits in the near wall, I could see the inside of the country club, not the rooms themselves, but the insulation and insides of the walls. We were in some sort of secret tunnel that ran from the ‘outhouse’ in the yard and into the main building.
“You sneaky little dog, you,” I said, smiling at Mayor McConnell. He turned back to me, tilting his head in response.
I wanted to laugh, but I was so close to the building, I could hear what was going on inside, which almost certainly meant that they could hear us, too. There was no need of giving up my location just yet. Especially when doing so would mean being re-arrested, this time maybe even for real.
We descended a little more before Mayor McConnell came to a stop. He turned to me, patted the steps, and started down them again.
“Got it. I’ll wait here,” I said, feeling almost comfortable enough not to have to sit down. Almost. As I settled my bottom against the stone steps, I heard a rustling in the room across from me.
Looking out through one of the slits in the wall, I heard pacing back and forth.
“I understand that,” a man said, obviously exasperated. “I told you. It won’t be a problem.”
It took me all of ten seconds to place the voice. It was Mr. Covington, Chloe’s father.
“Correct,” he said after a few beats of silence. He was on the phone. “No, you’re misunderstanding the situation. Yes, my daughter has been kidnapped, but no, it won’t affect our arrangement.” He sighed heavily. “Look, I understand that this might seem like a difficult fold in things, but I promise you, we have everything under control. We have people here on the case, and our intel tells us that she hasn’t been taken from the grounds yet.” Another beat of silence. “She is here, and we will find her.” Silence again. “I completely agree. Perception is everything, which is why I went through great pains to keep this information from going public.”
Mr. Covington cleared his throat. “To be completely honest with you, I have no idea how you heard about it. I assumed all of the people here would respect my wishes about keeping this quiet and, even if they didn’t, their phones were confiscated when they arrived.” More silence. “Yes, because of the wedding.” More silence. “I assure you though, we’ll find her before the story is fed to the press. Once she’s back with us, we can paint it all as a youthful joke gone wrong. It won’t affect the reputation of this highly respectable establishment.” More silence. “Understood but, if I understand correctly, so long as this is wrapped up before it explodes into the press, we still have a deal?” More silence. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad to hear it.”
I was piecing all of it together in my head when I felt a tug on my leg.
Mayor McConnell was right in front of me, pulling me further down the staircase.
“Okay,” I said, getting to my feet and following him all the way down to the end of the staircase.
It dead-ended at a small white square door. Mayor McConnell scratched at it with his paw and, surprisingly enough, when I twisted the handle, it opened.
Mayor McConnell stepped through, and I followed, finding myself in the boiler room.
He had done it. Mayor McConnell had gotten me to the boiler room without anyone seeing me, just like I asked.
Well, almost.
“Isn’t this an unexpected surprise?” A voice sounded from behind me.
I spun around to find Priscilla staring at me, her arms folded.
“I think one of us had better start talking.”
25
Priscilla stared at me as if I had done something wrong, like I was the one who had lied about her in an effort to slander her good name and get her thrown into prison.
Of course, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. I couldn’t say anything before. I had to keep up this charade in an attempt to get her to show her true colors. But all of that was a moot point now. She had seen me. Whatever sense of relief at having things taken care of she felt surely must have been permanently destroyed now. There was no sense in holding my tongue anymore. If that was the case, I certainly wasn’t going to do it.
“You’re one to talk,” I said, throwing my hands on my hips and standing my ground. “You think you can lie your way out of this? You think you can just throw the blame off on me and everyone will believe you? Why, because you’re rich? Because you’re famous? Because you took a couple of sweet snapshots with Chloe and convinced her that you felt anything for her aside from envy and disdain?” I shook my head. “Well, you can’t. I see through it and, when I’m done, so will everyone else. You might have been able to trick that poor girl into thinking that you’re a decent person, but you’ll soon find that I’m a much harder sell.”
Shockingly, the big-haired woman burst into tears. She threw her face into her hands and wailed uncontrollably.
“You’re right,” she said into her palms. “You’re absolutely right. I’m a horrible person. I don’t deserve anyone, especially a friend like Chloe.” She looked up at me, mascara running down her painted cheeks. “But that’s why I did it. Don’t you understand? I said all that stuff about you because of Chloe, to save her.” She sniffled. “That might make me a bad person, but it doesn’t make me a bad friend, at least not to Chloe.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.
She ran fingers through her big hair.
It did not move.
“He told me, the person who took me said that if I didn’t tell everyone that you were the one who kidnapped me, he’d kill Chloe.” Tears once more ruined her made up face. “I heard her crying beside me. I couldn’t see.” She shook her head. “He had me blindfolded, but I heard her. She was right beside me. I tried to tell her everything would be okay, but he stuffed something into my mouth, and I couldn’t talk. Then I heard noises. It sounded like he was beating her. She was screaming and crying, begging him to stop. And she kept talking about how it wasn’t worth it. That’s what made him the maddest. She said the money wasn’t important, that she never asked for any of it. And then, she started talking about this building, about how she’d always hated it.” Priscilla shook her head. “I think she was trying to tell me where we were, but the guy shut her up as soon as she started talking about it.” Of course he did. I could only hope he wasn’t too forceful about it.
She leaned against the wall, sliding down in a mess of mascara and heartache.
“I didn’t want to say those things about you, Rita. I swear I didn’t. You think I wanted to see a woman that I knew was innocent hauled out in handcuffs? That killed me, but I didn’t know what else to do. He said he would send her back if I did that, that all he wanted was the money. I was going to go to the police after she came back home and tell them the truth. I promise I was. But that hasn’t happened. I did what I was supposed to do, and I know Mr. Covington would give him the money. So where is she?”
It seemed as though she was telling the truth. I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. There was no hint of deception in her and, as much as my head was spinning, I had to admit, this made sense to me.
“We need to tell Darrin and Sheriff Black,” I said, setting my jaw.
“No you don’t,” Darrin said, opening the door of the boiler room and stepping in with Sheriff Black behind him.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, shocked to see him.
“Oh, I don’t think you’re the one who should be asking that question,” he answered. “You singlehandedly broke out of the back of a police van?”
“Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous,” I responded, a sense of pride filling me. “Mayor McConnell helped.” I motioned to the dog, who was pacing around the room with his snout pressed into the walls.
“What you did was exceptionally reckless,” he said, arms folded. “Impressive, but reckless.”
“I’ll take that as a c
ompliment,” I answered.
“Don’t,” he said. He raised his hands in front of him. “Just-just don’t.”
“I couldn’t let it go, Darrin. I had to get to the truth.”
“What do you think the Sheriff and I were doing, Rita?” he asked with arched brows. “Why else would we be following Priscilla down here?”
“You were following me?” Priscilla objected. “How rude!”
“What were you doing down here, ma’am?” Sheriff Black asked, moving past Darrin toward Priscilla.
He handed her a handkerchief from his pocket.
“Thank you,” she answered, taking it and dabbing at her streaky face. She swallowed hard. “I didn’t see anything after the man grabbed me. I was blindfolded the whole time. The only thing I remember was dust and heat.” She blinked back tears. “The heat was horrible. And I got to thinking, the only place in this building that would be that hot, where I would be sweating that much, is down here. I would have had to have been inside the boiler room.” She nodded. “So I came down here. I just knew I would find Chloe down here. I don’t even care who took her. I just want her back safe.” She put her hands onto her face again. “I already lost one girl, my daughter.” Sniffling hard, she added. “She’s not here, though. She’s nowhere. I was so sure. It had to be here. Where else could it have been?”
Mayor McConnell barked. Looking over at him, I saw his face buried in a corner in the wall. He turned to me, barking again and pushing at the corner with a raised paw.
I moved over toward him, careful not to seem too eager to follow whatever instructions he might have to give me. After all, they didn’t know he used to be a mayor; a mayor who-it just so happened- used to frequent this very building.
“What’s the matter, boy?” I asked, and grimaced because I knew he wasn’t going to take the whole ‘boy’ thing well.
He growled at me.
Kneeling down, I added, “Chill, okay. I’m just trying to sell it. Would it kill you to act like Lassie for ten minutes?”
Mayor McConnell rolled his dog eyes at me and turned back to the wall. Lifting a paw, he patted the bricks, one in particular.
Twice Layered Murder Page 14
