"I know you wouldn't. Hey, it's all right. Really. She killed Suzanne and hired someone to shoot me. Surely she didn't kill DeSoto as well."
"The casings that were recovered in the wooded area near your apartment match ones found in the alley where DeSoto's body was found. Police think they're looking for the same shooter."
"But why DeSoto?"
"All I can figure is that Belle's story had begun to fall apart, and she couldn't afford to have the police question him, especially after she'd had you shot at. She'd passed off the break-in at her apartment, the one at mine, and then the shooting as DeSoto's doings although I don't think she mentioned his name when the police questioned her. If she had, they would have picked him up. He was bound to defend himself, and a polygraph test would show he was telling the truth."
"So DeSoto never was a danger?"
"Nope. His attorneys released a statement following his death saying they intended to go forward to clear his name of the charges pertaining to the murder of his wife. Their theory is that the alleged hit man wasn't a hit man at all, but DeSoto's wife's jealous lover. The phone calls to their residence were made to her, not him. The lovers had a falling-out and he killed her. The police were suspicious of DeSoto because they always have to check out the spouse in a case of murder like that, especially where there's insurance involved, and there was a lot of insurance. They found the lover/hit man fairly easily through the phone records—"
"Then Belle didn't have anything to do with that."
"No. When he was arrested, the lover insisted that DeSoto had set the whole thing up, that he'd never met Mrs. DeSoto. He had some weapons and drug charges in the past, so they lent his story some credibility. That gave him a twenty-year plea bargain and left DeSoto taking the lion's share of responsibility for the murder."
"But then why did Belle have letters postmarked from prison?"
"My guess is that part of her story was true, that she really was trying to get DeSoto's confession in writing."
"But wouldn't that be a betrayal of Hovey? He was the man's attorney."
"Only if she used it."
"Right. Hovey marries her and she wins big time: He dumps her and she's got one heck of a news story and a terrific way to screw him over, by proving his client guilty with his own words."
"Excuse me." Mrs. Ramon tapped Jennifer's shoulder. "Enough store chat."
"Shop talk," Sam corrected.
"You do better to tend to your business than teach me your phrases. Look." She pointed through the glass at Muffy. "You see?"
One of her ears twitched. Then she lifted her head and let out a low, pitiful whine.
Jennifer had the door open and was at her side in less than ten seconds. "There, there, baby, it's okay." She rubbed the dog's neck, and Muffy's tail thumped against the table. Jennifer checked to make sure the IV was still securely in place. It was well taped, not likely to come loose.
Sam was right behind her, tying the balloon to the end of the cart. Muffy gave a sniff in its direction and let out a soft growl.
"What's the matter, girl. You don't like Scooby? Come on. He's one of your own, part of the Mystery Machine." He popped open the bag of Snausages and snuck her one. That got her tail wagging again.
"Quit that," Jennifer warned. "You shouldn't be feeding her without the doctor's permission. And you're just about to get busted." She pointed to a woman in a white coat, being led down the hall by Mrs. Ramon.
The vet came through the door and went straight to Muffy. "So how are you feeling?" She turned to Jennifer. "Give me about two seconds to look her over and then she's all yours."
"You mean I can take her home?"
"Of course. Just look at her. We'd have to sedate her to keep her here. Muffy's going to be just fine."
Chapter 35
Jennifer continued to grumble at Teri all the way from the car to Monique's front door. "I can't imagine what could be so important that you have to drag me over here when you know that I need to watch over Muffy—"
"Mrs. Ramon will treat her like her own child," Teri assured her.
"I know that, but Muffy only got a few hours' sleep last night, or should I say this morning, after we finally got her home. And then when we tried to nap this afternoon, you woke us up with your phone call. What's happened? I don't think I can take one more crisis."
Monique had the door open before they had the chance to ring the bell. She shushed Jennifer, who, as usual, had her mouth open, and shuffled them through the house and into the kitchen.
"Surprise!" a chorus shouted.
The room was full of balloons, all loose and floating against the ceiling with long, colorful, curled ribbons hanging from them almost to the floor, making it difficult to see exactly who was in the room.
"What's this?" Jennifer gasped.
"It's an It's-Good-To-Be-Alive party!" Leigh Ann tackle-hugged her from behind. "Dee Dee sent over a cake. Isn't it beautiful? She's so sorry she couldn't come but she had that party tonight she had to cater."
"Oh, no. I was supposed to help her with that. I completely forgot."
"It's okay," Teri assured her. "She understands that near-death experiences require a little downtime."
This was downtime?
"Margueritas for everyone!" April declared. She was over next to the stove, sticky-looking goo all over her hands, using a spatula to scoop a frothy pink icy mixture out of the blender and into seven crystal Marguerita glasses sitting on Monique's kitchen counter.
"Those are not Margueritas," Teri insisted. "Margueritas are not strawberry sugar drinks. I don't see any salt. Did you put any tequila in them?"
"Okay then, Miss Party-pooper Teri. Strawberry daiquiris! Come and get 'em."
"April, they don't have any rum in them either," Monique reminded her, picking up one of the glasses.
April raised her drink in Jennifer's direction, not about to let anyone, not even Monique, dampen this celebration. "To our Jennifer and Muffy's savior."
Leigh Ann raised her glass and chanted, "Go, Jen. Go, Jen. Go, Jen."
"Enough all ready." But Jennifer couldn't help but smile. They were all crazy, but in a good way.
Jennifer heard a small, ladylike cough come from a chair in the corner of the room. Half covered by balloons sat Mrs. Walker, looking tiny and fragile.
Most deceptive.
"I know," Jennifer said to her. "You told me so."
"Oh, heavens, dear. I never utter that phrase. I've had it said to me so many times I've thought of having it copyrighted so that no one could use it without my permission. I'm just delighted you saw that Belle woman for what she was before you made a meal of that peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Snacking in the middle of the night..." She shook her head and made a tsking sound with her tongue. "Most unhealthy. I say we drink these delightful confections that April has so graciously put together for us," Leigh Ann handed her a drink, "and then you let me make the next round. I make a killer Manhattan."
"I second that," Teri muttered.
"To Jennifer." Monique raised her glass and they each took a sip.
A sip was all Jennifer could manage. It was like drinking snow-cone syrup.
"Now I know this is supposed to be a celebration," Mrs. Walker said, "but I simply must know. Was Belle actually after Sam, romantically, I mean?"
"Yeah, I want to know that, too." Leigh Ann came up behind and threw a big handful of confetti over Jennifer's head.
"I don't think so, but she wouldn't have been above pretending to be."
"Sam is way too honest for the likes of Belle," April, busy washing the blender at the sink, called over her shoulder.
"I bet she was none too pleased when she found she'd have to deal with you," Monique sniffed.
"I'm sure she wasn't," Jennifer agreed. "Belle and Sam had given a relationship a try, and they both knew it wasn't right. But she and Hovey seemed a good match. I think she was as in love with him as she could have been with anybody. They'd been super careful not
to let their relationship leak out for fear of the ruckus Ruth would raise. They were going to slip away and get married and then announce it to the world, but—"
"Hovey's dying put a little kink in that plan," Teri interrupted.
"Right," Jennifer went on, "and with Suzanne dead, she was desperate to know what Hovey had said to Sam in those interviews, whether or not he'd mentioned her—Belle—directly or indirectly, because if he had, someone might question her in respect to Suzanne's death. The engagement announcement was something she knew Sam wouldn't ignore, couldn't ignore, however he felt about her."
"She had to resent him, too," Monique added.
"Why?" Jennifer asked.
"Hovey asked him to coauthor his memoirs, and Belle was a perfectly competent journalist."
With a smeared reputation. That would hurt.
"So who broke into Sam's apartment?" Leigh Ann asked.
"Nobody," Jennifer explained. "Belle messed up her own stuff and his door, and then stole Sam's computer files and tapes. She didn't count on him having an unlabeled backup disk. Or even that he'd notice they were gone, at least not right away. But if he did, the break-in would cover it, and she could blame it on DeSoto, like she did everything else. Not that Sam would have caught the reference to the trips she and Hovey had made. It's funny how something nobody would notice can seem so glaring when you know its significance."
"But you noticed it. So that's why she tried to kill you," Teri said, pouring her Marguerita down the sink.
"Actually I think it was because she knew I was convinced Suzanne had been murdered. If I'd left it alone, she would have checked Sam's files and been out of here, convinced she was home free."
"So who actually shot at you?" April asked, pausing to take another sip of her drink. At least half of her strawberry confection was already gone.
"Anyone checked out my buddy Burt?" Teri asked.
"The police went looking for him after I gave them his name. According to Ruth, he worked for Hovey before he was killed, so we know Belle knew him. Ruth sort of inherited him, but she made it clear his position with her was only temporary. Guess that's why he was looking for jobs on the side. And, guess what? He's mysteriously disappeared."
"Fancy that." Teri batted a balloon that had floated right in front of her face.
"But why frame DeSoto, dear?" Mrs. Walker asked. "He seemed awfully convenient."
"If she hadn't used DeSoto, she would have used one of the other clients Hovey had recently gotten out on bail, or perhaps some other inmate who had just been released. Sam found out that she corresponded with most of them, looking for that elusive story that was going to make her career."
"I bet Hovey loved her writing inmates," Leigh Ann added.
"I'm sure he didn't know about it. The police found all kinds of letters when they searched her apartment."
"Oh, goodness. She was a rather reckless young woman," Mrs. Walker observed.
"Quite."
"And the death threat you told us she had received..." Mrs. Walker began.
"That was something Belle put together herself. I'm sure she never intended to actually get DeSoto involved, but events began to snowball. He was a convenient fall guy."
"Did Suzanne put that item in the newspaper announcing her wedding to Hovey herself?" Teri asked.
"According to the newspaper office she did. My guess is she had decided, once and for all, to seduce him, after which she was convinced Hovey would admit his undying love for her. The announcement was scheduled to come out several days later, after it would all be official. Remember, this was Suzanne's fantasy she was living out."
"Dear me, I don't suppose we'll ever know exactly what happened that night," Mrs. Walker said.
Jennifer shook her head. "The only two people who know are dead, but I'd like to think it was an accident, that Suzanne wouldn't have intentionally killed Richard."
"Oh, oh, oh. You're forgetting the engagement ring that Hovey bought," Leigh Ann insisted.
"The ring was obviously for Belle," Teri said.
"Well, yeah. But why didn't she wear it?" April asked from the sink.
"Have you not heard anything that Jennifer's been telling us?" Teri asked. "She couldn't. No one was supposed to know they were engaged."
"I was running water. Cleaning up after all of you," April said.
"None of you saw that ring," Leigh Ann broke in. "No way I could put that in some drawer and not wear it."
The doorbell rang, and Monique excused herself. She immediately came back with Suzie Turner in tow, looking more than a little overwhelmed by all the balloons. She went directly to Jennifer and threw her arms around her.
"I can't stay but a minute. I got someone to cover for me. I couldn't miss your party. Mrs. Dupree said you'd want to see me."
Jennifer closed her eyes and hugged Suzie to her. She felt the tears start down her cheeks. "Suzie, I'm sorry. I wish things had been different. I wish—"
"It's okay. Really." Suzie pulled back. "Aunt Suzanne didn't mean to kill Mr. Hovey."
"I'm sure she didn't," Jennifer agreed.
"That's why she was afraid to die, wasn't it?" Suzie asked.
"I think so."
"She prayed about it. I know she did. Made her peace with God. Before she died." She managed a small smile. "I told you she wouldn't have left me without saying good-bye."
Chapter 36
"Hmmmmmm," Sam said, holding Jennifer close on the dance floor of the Casablanca Club. Santana's "Love of My Life" was playing in the background.
He looked wonderful in a charcoal grey suit, but just as mischievous as ever and not about to help her out.
She'd opted for a black dress in a Chinese cut. It covered most of her bruises.
"I liked the flowers," he said.
"Did you?"
"A dozen red roses. Nice. I must admit I was surprised when you called yesterday evening and made the date," Sam whispered in her ear. "I didn't think you'd be up to it. What did you mean when you said 'We need to talk'?"
She supposed she deserved that. Heck, she deserved a lot more. If she'd let him talk last Saturday night like he'd wanted to, who knows how it would have changed the events of the past week. And that night.
"Sam, I'm not any good at this and you know it. I don't know how to act. I don't know what to say. I'm surprised I'm actually allowed out on dates."
"Hyperbole."
"Yeah, well, it's how I'm feeling right now. Scared. You have to understand that I'm comfortable with my life. I know what to do each morning when I wake up. I write. I take care of Muffy and myself. I help Dee Dee with her catering. I check the mail. I hope something I've sent out will finally be bought and I—"
"And what if it does get bought, Jennifer? Your life could change with one letter or one phone call. Then what would you do?"
She'd never actually thought about it. "I don't know. I've done this so long, ever since I graduated from college. I can't imagine anything different."
"And what do you want for us?" he asked.
"I don't know that either. I'm not good at looking ahead." All she really knew was what she didn't want. She didn't want to lose Sam, couldn't bear to even think of her life without him.
"We can ease into this, Jennifer," Sam suggested. "Just say it. The first time's the hardest, but once you get the hang of it, it just rolls off your tongue. I know because I've said it probably a thousand times by now, just not where you could hear me. C'mon. I'll show you."
He stopped swaying and cupped her chin with his hand and looked at her with those deep, dark blue eyes of his. "I love you, Jennifer Adele Marsh. I've been trying to tell you that for what seems like a long, long time. Whew! There. See? Not really all that hard. I feel like a kid who's just lifted his feet for the first time on his two-wheeler and is soaring down the road with no idea how to stop the thing. I think I can even say it louder. Shout it to everyone in the room."
Sam drew in a great breath, but Jennifer covered his mouth
with her fingers.
"I... I love you, Sam."
There. Now she'd said it. Out loud. And nothing horrible had happened. No thunder crashes, no earthquakes.
"I really do," she said, "but..."
"But what? Why does there have to be a but? No conditions, Jennifer. It's a simple idea. We'll take it slow, if that's what we need to do, but I don't want any more guessing. I want to know that you feel as strongly about me as I feel about you."
She swallowed hard. "I do, Sam, I do. It's just that I can't plan anything yet. I'm just not ready—"
"We've got our plans. We're writing Hovey, Belle, and Suzanne's story. You and me together, including a first-hand account of how you personally foiled your own murder and unmasked Belle as Suzanne's killer."
"And Belle will no doubt be writing her own account. From prison—if she sees a day in jail."
"If she's convicted, she won't be allowed to profit from her crime, which means Marjorie and Suzie should get the proceeds from anything she produces. Either way, if she does write it, we'll have even more publicity for our book."
"I haven't been able to get my mysteries published, Sam. I'm sure you think—"
"That you're brilliant." He twirled her and she let out a little squeal. He drew her back to him. "Sorry. Forgot for a moment there that you'd been fighting off the bad guys. Fiction takes time. I know. I'm still trying to peddle my short stories."
"You? You never shared that with me. I want to read them."
He shrugged. "They're only stories. You write novels."
Sam felt self-conscious about showing her his work? Life truly was strange.
"I think it's time we put together a strategy plan to get you published. I've got several ideas that might help. As a matter of fact I think we should present our non-fiction proposal along with your Maxie Malone books as a package deal."
"You'd do that for me?"
"Of course. For us. Any publisher would be an idiot to pass them up. 'Mystery writer exposes web of intrigue surrounding death of nationally known attorney Richard Hovey.' Something along those lines. Jennifer, we're a team."
Dying to Get Her Man Page 18
