by Gale Deitch
Ben’s hair was still wet from his shower, and his eyes were half closed. He was bent over his coffee mug with his head resting on one hand. Was this a hangover or was he exhausted from spending the night with that woman?
“Hello, Sunshine,” I said as I slid into the booth across from him.
He peered up at me through his fingers and waggled them as a greeting. “Good morning, Trudie,” he grumbled.
The waitress delivered his toasted English muffin and poured a cup of coffee for me.
“I was hoping we could compare notes,” I said, opening my notebook. “Review each suspect one by one. Where’s your list?”
“My list?” He grinned and tapped his temple. “It’s all up here?”
“You mean you haven’t kept notes on the suspects and the evidence? You’re a writer. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I’m a writer. But every writer uses his own process. Mine is up here.” He tapped his head again.
Why should he take notes, I thought, if he already knows who murdered Gwen? If he and Belinda, in fact, had committed the brutal act. I felt my heart lunge against my chest in warning, but I persisted in my questioning. “How are you going to evaluate the clues if they’re not written down?”
He selected a small packet of blackberry jelly from the rack the waitress had placed on the table and opened the paper lid, sliding the contents onto the two halves of his muffin with a butter knife. “You have your process, Trudie, and I have mine.”
“Okay,” I said. “Do you want to discuss each suspect, one by one? Maybe by putting our heads together, we can at least eliminate some people.”
“All right. Go ahead. Who do you want to discuss first?” He took a bite of his English muffin.
“You.” I turned to the first page where I had already jotted some notes.
“Me? I thought you’d already eliminated me as a suspect.”
I looked up at him. “New evidence,” I said, knowing not to touch the hot stove but, like a child, unable to stop myself.
He licked his lips, only partially swiping off the dollop of jelly at the corner of his mouth. “Really? And what is that?”
I took a deep breath and continued, anticipating the burn. “Belinda Scott. I know she spent last night with you. The two of you had this whole thing planned, and by involving me, you thought you could throw me off the trail.” I leaned forward. “Admit it, Ben.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And you know this because….”
As hot as the oven was, I couldn’t pull my hand away. “Because I just saw her get in her car and drive away.”
He nodded at me, his eyes dancing. “Very good detective work, Ms. Fine. I’m impressed.”
“So, you admit it?”
Ben put his head back and began to laugh so loud, everyone in the coffee shop turned to look.
“What’s so funny?” Had I hit the mark or was I way off base?
He took his napkin and wiped his eyes, which were moist from laughter. I wished he would wipe the jelly from the corner of his mouth. “Let me get this straight,” he said when he’d sobered. “You saw Belinda Scott leaving the hotel and concluded that not only were she and I having an affair, but the two of us had conspired in Gwendolyn Chong’s murder.”
I felt my face flush. “Well, yes. Why else was she leaving your hotel this morning?”
“Why else?” He leaned toward me. “Maybe, like you, she called me this morning. Maybe she also met me here in the coffee shop. Maybe, just maybe, she was dropping off the check for my speaking engagement at her shindig.”
“Oh,” I said. My face, I was sure, had grown bright red. I dipped my head down to my notebook, took my pen, and crossed out these new accusations. I peered up at Ben. “Sorry.”
His eyes softened. “Trudie, I had you pegged as someone a lot more savvy than this. What in the world made you leap to such a conclusion?”
“When I was at Belinda’s house to pick up my check, I saw a photo of the two of you in an embrace. You were both younger but looked happy as if you were in a relationship. Was I wrong?”
He took a sip of his coffee, keeping his eyes trained on mine. “No, you weren’t wrong. We were, in fact are, in a close relationship. Belinda is my sister.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“But,” he continued, nodding. “I can see how it led to your confusion. So, you can scratch that clue off Belinda’s page, too.”
“Belinda is your sister? Why haven’t you mentioned it? Is it a secret?”
“She would like to keep it a secret. I have a certain notoriety in the literary world. And although she is a prolific writer who has a large fan base for her series, she hasn’t had the commercial success that I’ve had. It’s led to a good bit of jealousy on her part, and we’re not as close as we used to be.” He shook his head. “I understand how she feels. She wants to gain success on her own, not on my coattails. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” I said. “It does. And I’m sorry I came to that conclusion about the two of you. I guess I’m so anxious to clear Ally’s name that I’m grabbing at straws.”
His face grew serious. “Just be careful, Trudie. You can’t go around accusing suspects, no matter how much evidence you have. This is a dangerous affair, and you could get hurt, or worse.”
“Now you sound like Daniel.”
“So, you’ve been warned by two guys concerned about your safety. Next time, before you do something so reckless as this, call me. We’ll go over your findings rationally and discuss our next steps. Okay?”
“Okay. One more thing,” I said, pointing to the corner of my mouth. “You’ve got some jelly right here, and it’s driving me crazy.”
He laughed and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Now let’s go through your notebook page by page and see what you’ve got.”
As I walked to my car in the parking garage, I heard the squealing of tires as someone descended from an upper level. I waited a moment before crossing the lane to my car, but the vehicle stopped abruptly at the far end of the row, a signal that told me it was safe to proceed. I waved a thank you gesture to the driver and started to walk. When I’d gotten halfway across, the roar of the car’s engine made me jump and stop dead in my tracks.
I turned as the vehicle sped toward me. At first, my feet were frozen in place for what seemed like an eternity. Then, as comprehension took hold, I dropped my purse and sprang forward, darting between two parked cars so quickly that I lost my balance and fell onto my hands and knees. I heard the car squeal its way down the ramps and speed away. Breathing heavily, I sat back on my heels.
I heard footsteps behind me and held my breath. “Lady, are you okay?” a man asked, touching my shoulder. “You’re trembling.”
I peered up at him and shook my head. “No. Someone tried to run me down.”
“I know. I saw the whole thing,” he said, holding his hand out to help me up.
I stood, my legs wobbly as a new-born colt. My hands and knees were scraped raw and seeping blood.
“Here’s your purse,” the man said. “I’m afraid it’s seen better days.”
A deep tire tread had etched itself into the soft Italian leather and left ugly black marks. I’d spent way too much money for this designer bag, a gorgeous purple, perfect for spring. In a moment of déjà vu, I recalled how I’d lost a different bag once before, in almost the same way. But that was another story.
“Thank you.” I gave the man a weak smile and then had a thought. “You said you saw the whole thing. Did you get the license plate number?” I asked hopefully.
“No, it all happened so fast, and I was more concerned for your safety. It was a silver car, and I did get a glimpse of the driver.”
“Really? What did he look like?”
“Not a he. A she. Couldn’t see her face, but she had blonde hair, platinum blonde, I think they call it.”
I gasped. Belinda Scott?
I was thankful that my cell phone hadn’
t been crushed as it had been in the incident last summer. I needed to hear Daniel’s voice.
“Are you all right?” he asked when I called. “Stay where you are. I’ll come and get you.”
“I’m okay. Just some scraped up hands and knees. And I have the name and number of a man who witnessed the incident.” I told Daniel how I’d seen Belinda Scott leaving the hotel earlier and the man’s description of the driver.
“What were you doing at that hotel anyway?” he asked.
Oh, I hadn’t expected this question. I certainly couldn’t tell Daniel that Ben and I were working together to prove Ally’s innocence. “Uh…just checking out the space for a possible venue for our wedding.” I didn’t like lying to my fiancé, but he would have been so angry if he knew my real reason for being there.
“I’ll contact the hotel to see if they have cameras in the garage. What parking level are you on?”
“I’m on Level 3. Good thinking, Mr. Policeman,” I said.
“That’s what I get paid the big bucks for. You sure you’re okay, baby?” he asked again.
“I’m sure. I was pretty shaken up when it happened, but I’m okay now. Anyway, I have to meet Zach at the office.”
“All right, but don’t overdo it,” he said. “See you at home later.”
I was about a half hour late but relieved that Zach was already at the office when I arrived. The two of us were a team, and everything had felt off-kilter without him. He had come out of his self-imposed reclusive state to support Ally, but I could tell when I’d seen him outside her door yesterday that he hadn’t yet worked out all his issues. I needed to find out where his head was today.
“Trudie, what happened to you?” he asked, looking down at my scraped-up knees.
“It’s okay. I’m fine.” I told him about the incident in the parking garage but left out the details of why I’d been there in the first place. Like Daniel, Zach was very protective of me and the truth would have upset him.
He stood to hug me then leaned back and looked me in the eye. “You are not fine, Trudie. You’re still shaking.”
I could keep information from Zach, but I couldn’t lie to him, especially to his face. He knew me too well. “Well, I am still a little freaked out but physically okay, and safe now. I’m just so glad you’re here. I was worried about you.”
“No reason to worry. Needed some time to think.”
I took a step back and held him at arm’s length to search his face. The usual light in his eyes had dulled, and his brows were furrowed together. “You haven’t worked things out in your head yet, have you?” I asked.
“Not completely. But listen, I’m here to work.” He sat down at the computer. “I’ve pulled up the plans for the sorority Spring Fling. Let’s get moving on that.”
I had lots of questions for him about his absence, but it was going to take time to coax answers out of him. I pulled a chair over to the desk so we could share the screen. The Spring Fling, to be held at a venue on the University of Maryland campus, would be a Saturday night mocktail event with heavy hors d’oeuvres, which the sorority planning committee had already chosen. We would serve non-alcoholic drinks since only a few of the attendees, a handful of seniors, were over twenty-one. And since Gordon was also underage, this would give him the opportunity for some bartending experience.
We pulled up the food list: chicken lollipops, tuna cones, two types of flatbread, one steak and one veggie, crab-stuffed mushrooms, and a display of crudité. For dessert, our baker, Jennifer would prepare a selection of mini desserts served in oversized shot glasses. Zach would do the shopping on Friday morning, and we would do the prep work that afternoon and Saturday morning with finishing touches at the event.
Zach then clicked on another tab, and a diagram of the event room came up on the screen. We discussed room placement of the DJ, dancefloor, and the tables, high-tops and small round cocktail tables, and made sure we’d ordered the correct number of each. The sorority members were creating their own centerpieces, which they would deliver on Saturday.
With eighty people expected, and with most of the food either passed or set out buffet-style, we would need only two other staff besides Gordon.
It felt good to go over the plans with Zach. The two of us had been at this for a few years, and we had a system that worked. It purred like the new commercial mixer we’d acquired second hand at half price.
After a couple of hours, Zach closed the laptop and stood.
“Where are you off to now?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe take a drive or vegetate in front of the TV.”
“Can we talk a minute?”
He ran his hands through his dark curls, avoiding my eyes. “Not sure I’m ready to talk.”
I stood up and poked my finger into his chest. “Zach, you went invisible for a few days. I was worried sick about you, and so was Ally. I think I deserve to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”
He peered down at me, his brows creased, and shook his head. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what’s going on in my head. There are certain things I’m just not ready to face.”
I pulled his hand toward the chair. “C’mon, Zach. Let’s sit down and talk. Tell me something. Anything. Maybe it will help.”
He nodded and sat down.
I moved my chair closer and sat beside him. “Well, I’ll start with an easy one. What have you been doing the past few days?”
He leaned forward, dipped his head toward his knees, and ran his fingers through his hair. He gazed up at me and shook his head. “I had to retreat, from everything. Laid in bed, drove around a lot with no plan where. Got onto Route 270, drove west for a while toward Sugarloaf Mountain, pulled onto a scenic overlook. You know, western Maryland is beautiful. So different from this part of the state. No traffic, gorgeous mountains, spacious farms.”
“Go on,” I said.
“It was only an hour’s drive, but the further I went, the more freedom I felt. Out there, I didn’t have to think about my life or about the people who had let me down. I knew this natural beauty would always be there for me. I kept driving until I was on the mountain. I hiked, breathed in the fresh air, gave my thoughts a rest. No responsibilities, no people, no relationships to worry about. Just me and the mountain.”
“Sounds wonderful. It must have been hard to come home.”
“Well, of course I had to come home. The police said not to leave town. But, you’re right. If I’d had the option, I would have gotten a room at a mountain lodge for a few days.”
“Zach, I know Ally disappointed you again. Okay, so she didn’t tell you about an affair she’d had years ago. But you weren’t even in the picture then.”
“Trudie, you and I both know that she only wanted to help cater that dinner so she could see Ben Knight again. She still has a thing for him and wanted to see how he felt about her.”
I sat silent.
“I’m right, aren’t I? Look at the way she dressed for the occasion.”
“Well, yes, she did want to see him after all these years,” I said. “But…”
“But nothing. She didn’t even have the decency to tell me about their past together.”
“All right. So, she didn’t tell you about their ten-year-old relationship or why she was at the dinner. But why didn’t you confront her about it that night? Talk it out then and there? Why did you have to go silent over it?”
He stood and walked to the window, gazing out at the parking lot. Then he turned to me. “You want to know why, Trudie? Why I needed time to think? Well, I’ll tell you why. I saw Ally that night holding the hammer in her hand, the disappointment in her face. She was angry at Ben Knight. You heard her arguing with him. She saw Gwendolyn Chong as her rival, so she took that hammer and killed her. That’s what I think.”
Chapter Twelve
As I gathered my things to bring them into the house, there sat the book, Hammered Halls, on my passenger seat. The sighting of Belinda Scott going
to her car in the hotel parking garage had pushed everything else in my head to the back burner. I’d forgotten to bring it in to my meeting with Ben.
The book. Maybe handing it over to Ben wasn’t a good idea after all if he or his sister had in fact murdered Gwendolyn Chong. Maybe the answers I needed were right here in this book, and since Daniel had my copy, why would I give this one up before checking it out myself?
Daniel wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours so, armed with a bag of reduced fat potato chips and a Diet Coke, I curled up on the sofa with the book. I hadn’t read Hammered Halls since I’d purchased it at that fateful book signing ten years ago and had only a vague memory of the story. Intent on finding any clues in the book, I kept my notebook and pen at my side and began to read.
This was the third book in the Luke Hammer series. The story took place at a small college campus where a lovely Asian co-ed is found murdered in the hallway outside the door of her English lit professor’s office. Although not actually dating, which is against school policy, the teacher and student meet for coffee to discuss various books and authors in the curriculum. Several of the professor’s female students have crushes on him. However, he has been dating the criminology professor, a blonde beauty that Luke Hammer has recently met to consult about a case.
When the body of the co-ed is discovered next to the murder weapon—a bloody hammer---the criminology professor is accused and arrested for the crime.
As I read, a prickle crept up my spine to the back of my neck. The similarities in the book were close, the basic story line and suspects too similar as if someone had purposely arranged Gwen’s murder around the details in this book. But who? Who knew this book inside and out? Pretty much every conference attendee. After all, most were members of the Ben Knight Fan Club and had likely read the entire series. Whoever killed Gwendolyn Chong also had to be familiar with the conference set-up, the venue, even the décor. Had they known about the centerpieces, each of which held a real hammer? Had they, in fact, helped plan the room set-up?
A murder weapon available on every table. How convenient. The hair on my arms stood up, and I began to tremble.
