“If you push hay through the mesh, they’ll come up to you,” I said. I walked over to the little haystack and pulled some out of another bale. I stuck it through the mesh and the goats hurried over, jostling one another to reach the hay first.
Chapter 18
I was lying stretched out on the couch with my feet elevated and a cold pack on my forehead. Still, every time I shut my eyes I could see wild goats running around.
I heard someone speaking so took the cold pack off my eyes.
It was Matilda. “We’re going to our card game now,” she said. “We’ll be away for a few hours.”
“I didn’t know you played bridge,” I said.
She glared at me. “I don’t. It’s poker.”
“I should have known.” I put the cold pack back on my forehead. Moments later, I heard a swishing sound. I peeped out behind the cold pack just in time to see Mr. Crumbles airborne, all four paws outstretched. “Eleanor, would you please move the cat activity tree away from the pole before you leave?”
“No time, sorry Jane. We’re terribly late. Would you mind doing it?” With that, Eleanor disappeared down the stairs, as did Matilda.
I struggled off the couch and made my way into the kitchen to fetch Mr. Crumbles a treat. He was already sitting there with an expectant look on his face. I gave him some treats and was halfway across the living room to remove the cat activity tree when I heard a phone rang.
It was not my ring tone. In fact, it sounded like Matilda’s. I frantically searched for it and found it under a skateboard magazine on the coffee table. I really had to wonder about Matilda and Eleanor’s reading matter.
I didn’t recognize the Caller ID, but thought I had better answer it. I knew Matilda wouldn’t mind.
“This is Candace Weatherspoon,” the voice began. “That’s not you, Matilda, is it?”
“Candace, it’s Jane,” I said. “Matilda’s just gone out. She left her phone here.” I wondered why Candace would call Matilda. “Can I take a message?”
Candace sounded breathless. “Cherri told me Matilda is a private investigator,” she said. “She gave me her number. Cherri said Matilda is doing some private investigating for her.”
“That’s right,” I said. Sort of, I added silently.
Candace pushed on in the same breathless voice. “I think I know who the murderer is.”
“Have you gone to the police?”
“No, because I could be completely wrong. It’s just that something occurred to me and I’m not sure if it has anything to do with the murder or not, but it made me think.”
“What is it?” I asked her.
“Her best friend in junior high stole her boyfriend, and she waited ten years to get back at her. She planned it for a whole ten years.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I said, thinking I should perhaps have some Advil.
“Jane, you say Matilda isn’t there? I really wanted to speak with her. I was hoping she would call by now.”
“You can talk to me,” I said. “Matilda and I discuss the case all the time.”
“Could you come over, Jane?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. Just then, there was a strange sound and the phone went dead.
I looked at the phone. Had she simply hung up? It was the usual place to end a conversation after all. Or had she been attacked? What if the murderer was there at this very minute? Should I call the police?
I stood there, my hand over my mouth, looking at Matilda’s phone for some time. It was probably nothing to worry about. I called her back, but the phone went straight to voicemail. Maybe she was on another call. I left a voicemail asking her to call me back and telling her I was on my way.
I decided to drive straight to Candace’s house. I remembered the way from when I had been there at the Botox party the other night.
On my way, I thought things through. Candace had mentioned a woman taking revenge. Surely she was referring to Melissa. There was no other female suspect in the case, was there? Then it dawned on me—Cherri.
Could Cherri be the murderer? What if Cherri had planned to steal my then-husband and have a baby with him to trap him? He was wealthy, after all. What if she had taken out a life insurance policy on him and planned to murder him?
If that was the case, then why did she ask my help in solving the murder? I had no idea, but maybe she had reasons of her own. Maybe she wanted to befriend me so I would not be suspicious of her when she did away with Ted.
I thought about it all the way to Candace’s house, but no answers came to mind, only more questions.
When I reached Candace’s house, I knocked loudly and called out. No one answered. I called out about another five times. I tried the front door but it was locked. I skirted around to the back of the house and walked along by the pool, calling out as I went.
I tried the first door I saw at the back of the house. It opened into an expensive kitchen, showcasing wall after wall of stainless steel and granite countertops.
I called out again but couldn’t see anyone. Now I really was getting worried. Something just didn’t seem right. I walked into the room where the Botox party had been held. There was not a soul in sight. I ran up the staircase, sprinting down the hallway, and stuck my head into each of the six bedrooms. There was not a sign of anyone.
That was when I remembered the pool house. Of course, someone had said that Rick and Dr. Davidson were in the pool house. I hurried down the stairs, taking them two at a time outside. I had assumed the pool house was detached from the house, but now I realized it was actually adjoining. I ran to it and flung open the front door.
There to my horror, was Candace lying on the floor, blood oozing from her head. I snatched my phone out of my purse as I hurried to her, calling 911 one as I ran.
I touched her shoulder, and she groaned. Thank goodness, she was alive!
After I called them, I called Damon and told him what had happened.
“Jane, the perpetrator could still be in the house. Run to your car and lock yourself in.”
“I can’t leave her,” I protested.
“But the paramedics are on the way. I’m in the neighborhood, just a few minutes away. Jane, please return to your car.” His tone was pleading.
I can’t,” I said again. I hung up and turned my attention to Candace. I inspected the gash on the side of her head. It was deep and would need stitches but wasn’t bleeding freely. I grabbed a towel and ran it under cold water and then pressed it onto her head.
She opened her eyes. “Ouch! Is that you, Jane?”
“Yes, lie quietly,” I said. “The paramedics are on their way.” I hurried over to a nearby couch to grab a cushion which I gently placed it under her head.
“What happened?” she asked me.
“You’ve had a nasty knock on the head,” I told her. “You don’t remember what happened?”
“No.”
“Don’t worry, that can happen with a blow to the head,” I said, hazarding a guess. “I’m sure you’ll be able to remember in a day or two. Now try not to move. That’s going to hurt.”
“It hurts now,” she said. I repositioned the towel against the injury site.
“What are you doing here?” she asked me.
“You called me and asked me to come over,” I told her. “You called for Matilda, but she was out so I said I’d come instead. You thought you knew who the murderer was.”
“Yes I did, but I can’t remember now. I just remember I was shocked when I realized it was her.”
“A woman?” I asked, and she gave a little shrug.
I heard sirens approaching in the distance. “You said it was someone who waited a long time to take revenge,” I told her, and would have said more, but I realized the sirens were directly outside the house.
I hurried to the door so I could show Damon where we were. When I was halfway to the door, I heard someone go out the back door. I hesitated and then ran outside. Damon had just driven past. I waved my
arms.
“There was someone in there with us,” I told him as soon as he jumped out of the vehicle. “They ran out the back door just then.” I pointed to the pool house. Damon sprinted past me and kept going. The paramedics arrived at that point, so I waved my arms at them as well.
They were working on Candace when Damon returned. “I couldn’t catch them,” he said.
“Did you see them at all?” I asked him.
“No, but Jane it’s lucky I came along when I did. Who knows what would have happened to you?”
“I was in there with Candace for some time,” I said, wondering why the murderer hadn’t attacked me. That’s when it occurred to me—maybe the murderer had somehow discovered that Candace wanted to give Matilda information and was waiting for me to arrive so she could find out how much I did in fact know. I shuddered.
One of the paramedics wheeled Candace out while the other remained to speak with Damon. “She’s not too bad, just a nasty gash on the head that will need stitches. She also has a concussion, but nothing life-threatening. You should be able to question her in a few hours.”
“But she can’t remember anything,” I told him.
“Anything at all?”
“She did know who I was,” I said, “but we had a conversation on the phone before I arrived. She can’t remember what that was about.”
“That’s quite common in head trauma victims,” he said. “Do you know how it happened?”
“Yes, I believe someone hit her over the head with that.” I indicated a large wooden candlestick lying on the floor nearby. The top of it was covered with blood.
The paramedic and Damon spoke for a few more minutes and then Damon turned to me after the paramedic left. “I’ll need a witness statement from you, Jane. I’ll call by later.”
“Damon, there’s something you need to know. Cherri asked for my help in solving the murder.”
Damon looked quite cross. He put his hands on his hips and drew himself to his full height.
“I didn’t want to help Cherri at all. It’s just that she seemed so upset and didn’t know anyone else in town. We promised we would help her. Matilda pretended to be a private investigator.”
“Yes, I figured as much.”
“The thing is, Candace called me earlier wanting to speak to Matilda. She actually thought Matilda a private investigator and that Cherri had, in fact, hired her. I told her Matilda was out for the afternoon and she could tell me whatever she had to say.”
“And what did she say?” Damon asked me.
“She didn’t make any sense. She said she thought she knew who the murderer was. I suggested she tell the police, but she said it was only a hunch and she wanted to tell me about it to get my opinion. She said someone had taken revenge for something that happened to her in junior high ten years ago.”
Damon quirked one eyebrow. “Is that all she said?”
I nodded. “Yes, I know it doesn’t make any sense. And now she can’t remember. She does remember saying that, but she can’t remember who it was about. And something else is bothering me. The person who attacked Candace was still in the pool house while I was here. Do you think they were waiting to see how much she told me?”
“Possibly,” Damon said. “This is a serious situation, Jane. I hope you realize that.”
“Yes I do,” I said solemnly. “What happens now?”
“Go back home and leave this to me. I’ll check on you later when I take your witness statement. Are you able to drive yourself home?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m worried about Candace. What if the murderer tries to finish her off?”
“I’ll have an officer stationed at the hospital,” Damon said. “But for now Jane, go home and leave this to me.”
I made to leave but turned back to him. “It seems the murderer is a woman,” I told him.
“Yes,” he said. “And that means it’s either Cherri or Melissa.”
Chapter 19
I drove home quite shaken. I had left several messages on Eleanor’s phone, but she hadn’t called me back. Who could the murderer be? Matilda had told me that murderers in Agatha Christie books sometimes pretend to have a close escape so that suspicion will not fall on them, but that gash on Candace’s head was deep. I was certain it couldn’t have been self-inflicted. I hardly thought she would hit herself on the head so hard just to throw suspicion off herself. Besides, I had heard someone running from the scene.
But was it Cherri or Melissa? I had no idea.
I carefully let myself into the apartment, but there was no sign of Mr. Crumbles. I found him asleep, curled up in a chair. I tiptoed past him, put my purse on the coffee table, and lay on the couch with my feet up once more. The cold pack was now lukewarm, so I left it where it was sitting. This had certainly been an eventful day.
I decided to sort through the facts. What had Candace said? She said someone had waited ten years to take revenge. In fact, in fact, she said they had planned their revenge for ten years. I nodded slowly. Yes, that was important.
Was Cherri planning to murder Ted? And what would her motive be for killing Marcus? As far as I knew, she had never met him. Ted had never introduced me to any of his business associates. But then again, he might have introduced Cherri. And what possible grudge could she have had against Marcus?
The bell to the apartment rang, startling me. I groaned and got to my feet. All I wanted was a nice quiet afternoon. That obviously wasn’t going to happen. I walked down the stairs wondering if it was Damon so soon.
I peeped around the door. To my surprise, it was Melissa Matheson.
“May I come in?” She asked me.
I hesitated. Should I slam the door in her face and lock it? There was a fifty percent chance she was the murderer. As I was thinking up an excuse not to let her in, she pushed past me and said, “Thank you.”
I had no option but to follow her up the stairs and keep my wits about me.
“Would you like coffee or a drink?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “I think I might know who the murderer is, and Cherri told me she hired the services of your roommate, Matilda.”
I wondered why Cherri told Melissa. “Please sit down,” I said.
Instead of sitting in the empty chair, she pushed Mr. Crumbles off and sat down where he had been lying asleep.
Mr. Crumbles landed on the floor with a thud. He shook himself before turning around and shooting her a nasty look. She appeared not to notice.
I thought it quite mean of her to do that to Mr. Crumbles. After all, there was a seat right next to her.
“Jane,” she said. “Did you hear what I just said?”
“No,” I admitted.
“It’s quite difficult. I really don’t know how to tell you.”
“Well just say it,” I said. The woman was beginning to irritate me.
“I think it’s Cherri.”
“Cherri?” I repeated. “Why would you think it was Cherri?”
“Because I think Cherri is a con artist who married Ted so she could murder him some time in the distant future and get his money. He is a wealthy man, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” I said. “But couldn’t she just divorce him? Why would she have to murder him?”
Melissa made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Obviously, Ted would have made her sign a pre-nup. She won’t get a cent in a divorce. I assume you didn’t either.” She gestured around the apartment. I thought that quite rude of her. I simply nodded.
“So the only way for Cherri to get her hands on his money is to do away with him.”
“But Cherri doesn’t seem to want for anything now,” I pointed out. “She seems to have anything she wants.”
“Ted told me you were brought up Amish. I can see you’re still not fully aware of the ways of the world,” Melissa said in a condescending tone. “Ted is significantly older than Cherri. If she murders Ted, she can go on to the next wealthy, older victim. Some women do this in a serial fashion, you
understand.”
“But surely they get caught.”
Melissa shrugged one shoulder. “Murderers don’t always get caught.” There was something smug about her tone. “Haven’t you seen all those cold cases on TV that are never solved?”
“Yes I have, but I don’t understand why Cherri would kill Marcus. It doesn’t make any sense. What possible motive could she have had?”
“Because Marcus was a lawyer before he became a restaurateur,” she said. “You probably don’t know this, but he defended Cherri’s mother in a case and lost. The poor woman went bankrupt and so Cherri held a grudge against him. It was many years ago, when Cherri was just a child.”
“What was the case about?” I asked her.
She waved her hand at me. “How should I know? I was lucky to find out that much. The police kept questioning me, and I think they suspect me, so I decided to do some digging into the case. I was able to find this out rather easily, but if the police don’t arrest Cherri soon, I’m going to hire a private detective of my own. It’s her, you mark my words. She’d been planning to kill Marcus for the last ten years and finally she got the opportunity.”
“Ten years,” I said. The timeframe stuck in my mind. Why did it sound so familiar to me? I tapped my chin. “Ten years,” I repeated slowly, staring at the ceiling.
That’s when it dawned on me. Melissa had taken out the life insurance policy on Marcus ten years earlier. My skin went cold. The murderer wasn’t Cherri after all—the murderer was Melissa. And what’s more, she was sitting in the apartment with me.
I wondered how I could get out of the apartment in a hurry. “Would you like some cupcakes?” I asked her. “I always think better on a full stomach. I’ll just pop downstairs to the cupcake store and grab some.”
I stood up and made to move past her, but she grabbed my arm. “You know, don’t you!”
I plastered an innocent look across my face. “Know what?” I asked her.
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