Beverly Barton Bundle

by Beverly Barton

“Don’t you worry. I’ll be real discreet, but you can count on me to watch over Miss Terri.”

  “Thank you. And I’ll do my best to return to Danville in time for my morning visit with Terri tomorrow.”

  After her conversation with Mr. Ransom, Lila made her morning rounds, all the while thinking how sad it was that Mr. Ransom and Mr. Tyler were estranged the way they were. Despite their father/son differences, they both loved Terri, and were both devoted to her. Why, she didn’t know. The woman certainly didn’t deserve their love or devotion.

  Jack arrived at Lorie’s house a little after ten that Friday morning. When Mike opened the door, he could tell by the look on his deputy’s face that he was bringing bad news.

  “Where’s Lorie?” Jack asked.

  “In the shower,” Mike said. “She slept late this morning. I don’t think she got much sleep last night.”

  “I just got off the phone with Hicks Wainwright.”

  “And?”

  “He’s struck again. Last night. Out in LA.”

  “The Midnight Killer?”

  “Yeah. When their housekeeper arrived at six this morning, she found a bloody massacre at Jean and Jeff Misner’s home in Hollywood Hills.”

  “Jean Goins Misner.”

  Jack nodded. “Also known as Puff Raven.”

  “I thought she had two around-the-clock bodyguards.”

  “He killed both guards, probably first, and then the Misners. Shot all four of them repeatedly. He followed his usual routine. He stripped Jean Misner and put a mask on her face after he killed her.”

  A loud gasp from behind them alerted Mike to the fact that Lorie had overheard Jack’s last statement.

  She stood a few feet away, dressed in faded jeans and a white pullover and with her damp hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. “Jean’s been killed? But it’s still April. He wasn’t supposed to strike again until May.”

  “Derek warned us that he might begin escalating the kills,” Jack reminded her. “Killing again before May indicates that he’s altering his MO, at least to some extent.”

  “There are only two of us left,” Lorie said. “Terri and me.”

  “But he probably doesn’t know that. It’s unlikely that he’s found out Charlene Strickland and Sonny Deguzman are already dead.” Mike reached out, put his arm around her, and pulled her to his side. What could he say or do to make this easier for her? He wanted to comfort her, but how? He felt helpless.

  “Wainwright has contacted the rehab center where Terri Owens is recuperating,” Jack said. “He been in touch with her daughter-in-law. Everything possible will be done to protect her. And we’re going to keep you safe.”

  She jerked away from Mike. “You have to leave. You can’t stay here. He’ll kill you if you stay.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Mike told her. “If he comes after you—”

  “When, not if,” Lorie said. “When he comes after me, he’ll kill anyone who gets in his way.” She shook her head. “I am not going to let you risk your life for me.”

  “Honey…” Mike held out his hands, wanting to pull her into his arms, but when he saw the stricken look on her face, he didn’t touch her. “Listen to me.”

  She kept shaking her head. “Jean had two bodyguards and he killed both of them. How did that happen? How could he have gotten past all that security?”

  “I don’t know,” Mike admitted.

  “Wainwright got a call from the LAPD,” Jack said. “He called me from the airport. He’s on his way to LA by now. Our conversation was brief because he was in a hurry. I got in touch with Maleah on my way over here. She’ll share the info with the Powells and Derek. Maybe he can come up with an explanation of how a woman who was supposedly surrounded by the best security money can buy is now dead.”

  While preparing for dinner out with her husband, Renee Leroy turned on the small TV in her dressing room in order to catch the evening news. Tonight they were dining with the Bellamys, an older couple completely devoted to the Redeemer Church and two of their biggest contributors. Celia and Earl were sweet people, but so boring. All he talked about were his horses and his golf game. And Celia seemed to be interested in only one thing—her six grandchildren. Renee knew the Bellamy grandchildren’s names and ages and had looked at countless photo albums filled with their pictures.

  Renee slipped into her calf-length navy silk sleeveless dress. As she removed the matching jacket from the pink padded hanger, the TV announcer’s last comment caught her attention.

  “We go now to Los Angeles where the FBI and the LAPD will be issuing a joint statement concerning the murder of adult film star Jean Goins Misner, aka Puff Raven, wife of producer Jeff Misner.”

  The navy jacket dropped from Renee’s hand. She stared at the small screen as two men stood in front of a crowd of reporters. The camera scanned from one man to the other. Their identities appeared in print at the bottom of the screen. One was the LAPD chief of police and the other was FBI Special Agent Hicks Wainwright.

  The police chief made a brief statement, giving only the basic information that the bodies of Jean Goins Misner, her husband, and two bodyguards were found by the Misners’ housekeeper at approximately 6:00 A.M. that morning.

  Using the house intercom, Renee called Grant, who had gone down to his study a few minutes ago. “Grant, are you there?”

  “Yes, darling, what is it? You sound upset.”

  “Turn on the TV,” Renee told him. “They’re making an announcement about Jean and Jeff Misner. They’ve been murdered.”

  “Dear God in heaven. He’s killed another one.”

  “Watch it,” Renee said. “We’ll talk later.”

  Renee sat at her vanity table, her gaze fixed on the TV, and listened while Special Agent Wainwright told the world that the FBI suspected the Midnight Killer was responsible for the murders, that Jean Goins was the fifth actor who had starred in the porno movie Midnight Masquerade to be killed.

  Renee wondered if Grant should call Heath to let him know. He had voiced his concerns about his father’s welfare the moment the news first came out about the Midnight Killer. After all, Grant had been the director, and even though so far only actors had been killed, who was to say when that maniac would move on to others with any type of connection to the movie?

  If he thought it necessary, Grant would contact Heath. She certainly had no intention of calling him. Although she and her stepson had never had a cross word, they had, until recently, given each other a wide birth. Both knew they were important to Grant and his ministry and accepted their unique places in his life and in his Christian organization.

  But if there was one thing Renee knew a lot about, it was men. And her instincts warned her about Heath. She knew he was infatuated with her, and despite being flattered and admittedly having flirted a bit with the boy, she had become concerned about his unhealthy interest in her. Ever since he had walked in on her and Grant making love, he’d been acting weird. Well, weirder than usual. Heath always had been a bit of an oddball. His preoccupation with his father’s past—what he referred to as Dad’s days of debauchery and depravity—seemed unnatural to her. Yes, Grant had publicly condemned his former lifestyle, but he didn’t dwell on it in his sermons or in his private life. He had put his past behind him, mentioning it only when he used it as an example of how anyone could, through the Lord Jesus Christ and His ultimate sacrifice to save all mankind, find salvation and forgiveness.

  But Heath often seemed obsessed with the porno business and its effect on decent people. On more than one occasion, she had heard him raving to his father about how he wished he had the power to remove all such wickedness from the world. When she had spoken to Grant about Heath’s fixation on how evil porno movies were, he had dismissed it as nothing more than his son’s zealous dedication to Christ and the Redeemer Church. So she had tried to convince herself that her husband knew his son far better than she did. And when the thought had crossed her mind that perhaps Heath was the Midnight Kil
ler, she had immediately dismissed the idea as ludicrous.

  Her doubts about her stepson’s mental stability were one thing, but to suspect him of cold-blooded murder was something else entirely.

  Just because he had been out of town the past few days and a new murder had taken place didn’t mean he was the killer.

  But was it simply a coincidence that Heath had also been out of town when Shontee Thomas had been murdered?

  Yes, it was a coincidence. It had to be. She refused to think otherwise.

  I am not going to do anything with my suspicions except forget them. I will not dig into Heath’s travel records since the first of the year. I will not!

  Tyler Owens arrived at the Green Willows Rehabilitation and Convalescence Center shortly before seven that evening. He had not stopped by the nurses’ station on his way to his mother’s room, but Lila had caught a glimpse of him as he hurriedly passed by. By the time she caught up with him, he had already gone into Terri’s room and closed the door. As a general rule, she would never intrude on a family member’s visit, but she had promised Mr. Ransom that she would keep close tabs on Miss Terri. Glancing right, left, and behind her, Lila grasped the handle and cracked open the door a couple of inches, just enough so that she could see into the room and could hear what Mr. Tyler was saying.

  He leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. Still mildly sedated, Terri opened her heavy eyelids and glanced up at her son. She stared at him for the longest time, but made no attempt to speak.

  “I hear you’ve been giving the nurses a difficult time,” Tyler said. “I wish we knew what was wrong, why you’ve been so upset.”

  A peculiar shiver shimmed up Lila’s spine when she saw Tyler smile as he took his mother’s frail right hand and squeezed it tightly. Terri moaned as if she were in pain. “You mustn’t be difficult, dear. When you allow yourself to become so agitated, they have no choice but to sedate you.” He held her hand tightly. “And no more of this smearing jelly on your table and trying to write in the jelly. Promise?”

  Terri nodded.

  “That’s my good girl.” Tyler released her hand and laid it back at her side.

  “Amelia Rose called me while I was out of town to tell me that Ms. Newton had contacted her and told her you were acting up and wanted to see me.” He pulled up a chair and sat by her bed. “I’m here, Mother. But unfortunately you can’t tell me why you wanted to see me, can you?”

  “Mur…mur…da.”

  Tyler tensed. “What was that?”

  “Mur…da.”

  “Well, listen to you. You did manage to say a word, didn’t you.”

  Terri patted her chest and then pointed to him.

  “Yes, I’m afraid there’s been another murder. The Midnight Killer has struck again. He killed Jean Goins this time. You and Jean were great friends at one time, if I remember correctly. She was certainly nice to me whenever Uncle Clement took me to visit you. Dad still doesn’t know anything about those secret trips, does he?”

  Tears welled up in Terri’s eyes as she stared at her son.

  “You mustn’t worry,” Tyler said, his voice soft and soothing. “You’re safe. No one can get near you except those I personally allow to visit.”

  “Ra…ra…so,” Terri mumbled.

  “Ra-so. Ra-so. Are you trying to say Ransom?”

  Terri nodded.

  “Is that what this is all about? You’re afraid Dad will try to get in here to see you?”

  Terri patted her chest again.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

  She lifted her right hand, pulled back three fingers, and using her thumb and index finger, formed the shape of a gun. She pointed directly at her head. “U…Ra-so…hup.”

  Tyler stared at his mother, a stunned expression on his beautiful face. “You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.” He laughed nervously. “You want me to protect you from my father. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  Lila barely managed not to gasp aloud. She stepped back away from the door and closed it quietly. Why did Mr. Tyler think his mother was afraid of Mr. Ransom? Lila had never seen any indication that his visits upset her or that she was in the least bit afraid of him.

  What to do, what to do! Should she call Mr. Ransom and tell him what she had overheard? The man had a right to defend himself, didn’t he? Besides, if Terri was beginning to form words that could be understood, it would be only a matter of time before she told Mr. Tyler that Mr. Ransom had been visiting her on a regular basis. And then, the shit sure enough would hit the fan.

  Lila hurried up the hall, went into the nurses’ lounge, and when she saw that it was empty, she removed her cell phone from her pocket and dialed the phone number Mr. Ransom had given her when he’d called her that morning.

  Chapter 33

  Carrying a newspaper under his arm and with the straps of a midsize backpack hanging over one shoulder, Casey Lloyd got off the bus at the Greyhound terminal on Wedington Drive in Fayetteville Saturday morning. Unfortunately, he’d already missed his SAA meeting, but it couldn’t be helped.

  After each trip, he felt like celebrating because he knew he was coming closer and closer to achieving his ultimate goal. But what did a guy who had sworn off liquor, drugs, and addictive sex do in order to celebrate? He had a little money left in his wallet, enough to buy himself a steak for lunch, and then afterward, maybe he’d go see a movie. But first, he needed to run by his friend Jason’s house and leave his backpack. He kept his personal items stored at Jason’s for safekeeping. He trusted his friend not to break open the locked case containing these items and pilfer the contents.

  When he passed a garbage can, he stopped and tossed away the newspaper. While away from Fayetteville, he had kept up with the news, so he knew the whole nation was abuzz about the Midnight Killer’s latest murder.

  Casey remembered Jean Goins with affection, mostly because Jean had despised Laura Lou with a passion and had often called her a hack who couldn’t write her way out of a paper bag.

  Poor Jean. Destined to die along with her Midnight Masquerade costars. There were only four of them still alive: Sonny Deguzman, Charlene Strickland, Terri Owens, and Lorie Hammonds. He hoped the final four were living it up these days, enjoying life to the fullest. It was only a matter of time before the Midnight Killer executed each of them.

  And who knew, maybe when the great executioner, the righter of wrongs, finished with the actors, he might get rid of the producer and the head writer. Casey knew one thing for sure—the world would be a better place without Travis Dillard and Laura Lou Roberts.

  Derek Lawrence kicked back on the sofa and placed his feet on the overstuffed leather ottoman in Griffin Powell’s study. Sanders served iced tea and then quietly left the room. Derek sipped on the sweet raspberry-flavored tea as he gazed casually about the room, concentrating on the people and not the décor. Griff and Nic were seated in the large armchairs flanking the fireplace and Maleah sat on the opposite end of the sofa. He’d been staying with the Powells for the past few days, and Maleah had driven in from Knoxville that morning. The gruesome murders of Jean and Jeff Misner and their two bodyguards had been front-page news the past two days. And as Powell’s gathered more and more information, Derek had been working on a new updated profile of the Midnight Killer.

  “I think it’s obvious that whoever the killer is, Jean and Jeff Misner not only knew him, but trusted him,” Derek said.

  “I think we all agree with you on that.” Griff downed a hefty sip of tea.

  “The LAPD says there was no forced entry.” Derek flipped open his notepad. “Both bodyguards were shot to death in the living room, as were the Misners, so the killer didn’t enter the house and immediately start shooting. The cook had prepared a meal for the Misners and a guest. Drink glasses were found in the living room, indicating that the Misners had entertained their dinner guest after the meal. So far, all the fingerprints found belonged to the Misners and their bodyguards. Apparently
, our killer was very careful not to leave behind any evidence.”

  “I assume the cook left before the guest arrived?” Maleah asked. “Otherwise, he would have killed her, too, since she’d have been able to identify him.”

  “That’s right,” Griff said. “And when questioned about if either of the Misners had mentioned their guest’s name, she said she didn’t recall his name being mentioned. She thought Jean Misner had referred to him by a pet name, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what it was.”

  Nic entered the conversation. “She did remember that Jean Misner said their guest was staying overnight and that they hadn’t seen him in years.”

  “It was a rather simple plan and practically foolproof,” Derek theorized. “An old acquaintance from out of town phoned the Misners and finagled an invitation to stay with them, at least for one night. They never suspected that he intended to kill them. Why would they have trusted him so implicitly, knowing the person who murdered Jean’s costars might well be someone connected to Midnight Masquerade?”

  “What if he wasn’t directly connected to the making of the movie?” Maleah suggested.

  “Y’all ruled out any crazed fans, specifically those obsessed with Midnight Masquerade,” Griff said. “So who does that leave? The most likely suspects are those who were involved in the making of that particular movie.”

  “You both could be right.” A couple of ideas had occurred to Derek yesterday after he’d thoroughly gone over all the information Powell’s had accumulated. He had worked on two profiles for a hypothetical killer. “Let’s say that the killer is not directly connected to the movie but is someone all the actors knew.”

  “Like who for instance?” Nic asked.

  “A boyfriend, a husband, a father, a son.” Derek paused to allow the others time to absorb his theory. “This person’s life was in some way adversely affected by their girlfriend, wife, daughter, mother, or father being involved in the porno business, and for some reason they focused all their rage on the actors in Midnight Masquerade. Something happened shortly before the first of this year that triggered all his pent-up rage and sent him off on a killing spree.”