by Krista Davis
“He didn’t see you the night you tried to get into the carriage house?”
“I don’t think so. All the lights came on, and I was terrified that I had triggered an alarm. I fled into the mansion and up the stairs to his bedroom. Early in the morning, I could hear DuBois running about, so I hid. Then Maxwell left and later on the police swarmed the place. At first I thought they had come to search for me. I didn’t know about Delbert’s murder at the time.”
She studied her hands. “Florrie, my life is at risk if anyone finds out that I’m here. No one else can know. Maxwell pointed out to me that my husband probably borrowed against his real estate holdings from some unsavory types who would think nothing of helping him knock me off.”
“Did you have a martini with the professor?”
“How did you know?” she asked.
“So you’re his alibi!”
“But I left. I wasn’t with him all night.”
“He was in his office when I left Color Me Read that night at ten o’clock. What time did you get here?”
“Ten thirty. I parked in front of the store, met him at his office, and we walked over here.”
“Did you see Mr. DuBois? It would be great if he could confirm this.”
“No. He tends to retire early because he rises early to make breakfast.”
“So the professor made two martinis and you talked about your problems.”
“Actually, I mixed the martinis. Maxwell likes them very dry with a green olive. He says no one but me ever gets them right.”
“What time did you leave?”
“Around midnight. I walked back to the store, drove home, panicked, ditched my car, and walked here. It’s a long walk from the river. It seemed so close by car. I was exhausted, mentally and physically. Can you imagine how draining and frightening it is to know that someone wants to murder you?”
My heart went out to her. I couldn’t imagine being in her shoes. “You can’t live this way forever.”
A soft smile lit her face. “No, I can’t. Here I am revealing my whereabouts and trusting you to keep my secret. Although, I’m not so sure I wouldn’t enjoy hiding for a longer time. With some clothes and decent food, I could live like this for quite a while. If I weren’t so doggoned scared for my life, it would be like a writing retreat.”
“I changed the locks. All of them. There’s no way you have a key.” I watched her expression carefully. “And I marked the doors. No one opened the front door while I was gone. How did you get in?”
“There’s a passage from the mansion.”
“I hope you’ll excuse me for saying so, but it’s really creepy that you were able to enter without my knowledge.”
“I apologize for that. I never did it when you were here. Not at night or when you were home. Actually, I’ve been using that scenario in a new book that I’m writing. I do understand the ghoulish factor.”
“How did you know when I was home?”
“I’ve been spying on things from the rooms over the garage. I figure if someone enters the property, I’ll hear the commotion and can hide fairly quickly.”
“Where is this passage?”
“It starts at the mansion, runs under the garage, and comes over here. It’s actually a fascinating story. Georgetown was a major stop on the underground railway for escaping slaves. The Maxwell family had some crazy members, but one of them was a remarkable man who helped a lot of slaves on their way to freedom. When I moved into the house ages ago, I discovered the place where the slaves hid. Ugh. I guess when you’re escaping a nightmare, you’ll take refuge anywhere. It was a dark, dank pit far under the house, accessed through a hidden door in Maxwell’s bedroom. It came up out here in what was once a stable. When I found it, I had Alan install lights so it wouldn’t be so dark and terrifying. I shiver when I think that they probably only had candles to light the way. It must have been horrific.”
“Where does it open in here?” I glanced around the room in search of a well-hidden door.
“It’s best if you don’t know.”
“I think I have a right to know. Is there a way to lock it?”
“Whoa! Keeping me out, are you? You can throw a bolt from the inside. I was never concerned about anyone sneaking around. After all, it was just family. And . . .”
Her voice trailed off. She swallowed hard and looked away. “After our little girl was kidnapped, Maxwell and I thought it would be smart to have a safe room in the house. The Maxwells were very prominent and known for being wealthy. You can lock both ends from the inside.”
“I’m sorry about your daughter.”
She nodded and stared at Peaches. “I still think about Caroline with every breath I take. She must have been so scared. My poor beautiful baby. I can only hope that her death wasn’t painful or brutal.”
“Did they ever find her?”
She shook her head. “To this day we don’t know what happened to her. But I know what happened to us. Maxwell and I fell apart. Maxwell and I saw Caroline’s face when we looked at each other. Each of us was a daily reminder to the other of the daughter we had lost. It’s a pity really. I don’t think we ever stopped loving each other. And now, the only thing that makes the fear of dying more bearable is the knowledge that I’ll be with Caroline again.”
She wiped her eyes and bent forward toward me. “I see some of my books on your shelves. I’ll let you in on a little secret. The character of Harrison is based on Maxwell.”
I jerked back. “No kidding? Of course! Why didn’t I make the connection? The intrepid explorer. He’s always such a gentleman even in the most unexpected circumstances. By the way, I spoke with your agent.”
“Aww. Jessica’s a dear. I hate to worry her. I just haven’t been able to figure out a way to contact anyone without leaving a cyber trail. You can’t imagine how hard it is not to have access to a computer or a laptop. I’ve been writing in longhand, something I haven’t done in ages. Which brings me to the favor I must ask of you.”
Chapter 36
I was wary and held my breath.
“It seems to me that the obvious thing to do is cancel the life insurance policy on my life. I don’t even know if that’s possible, do you?”
“I have no idea.”
“Me, either. But it seems like I ought to be able to since I’m the insured. This must have happened before. When people get divorced, it could be dangerous to allow one to carry insurance on the other. Right now that policy is a five-million-dollar bounty on my head. Once I’m not worth five million bucks as a dead woman, then I’ll be free to live my life again. I expect I’ll have to hide out a little longer, though, just in case some of my husband’s more vulgar creditors still think my demise means they’ll get paid.”
“On the other hand,” I said, playing devil’s advocate, “won’t the insurance company call your husband? He’s the one who paid for the policy.” I thought about it more. “But it doesn’t seem right that he could continue to insure you against your will.”
“Exactly. It’s all quite confusing, isn’t it? As the insured, I hope I can cancel the policy he paid for.”
“So what’s the favor you need?”
“I’m being very careful not to disclose my location. I’m sorry to say that I’ve learned a few unpleasant tricks from writing my books. If unscrupulous people are looking for me, they’ll have tapped the phones of the people I’m likely to call. I’m sorry to say it’s not that difficult to do with modern technology. I don’t dare log onto any computer or use any of my passwords. That means I can’t use my email programs, or text. So, I was hoping you might allow me to use your phone to call the insurance agent. I would do it from a phone in the mansion, but that pesky nurse and guard are always roaming about. And there’s a good chance that phone has already been tapped anyway.”
“Yes, of course. That’s not a problem at all. It’s the least I can do. There’s one problem, though. My name will show up on the caller ID. Once they know that, it’s only a sk
ip from me to you.”
Jacquie gasped. “How stupid of me. Can you buy me one of those phones that can’t be traced? What do they call them? Disposable? I’ll pay for it.” She pulled out a wallet and handed me two hundred dollars in cash. “That should cover it, don’t you think?”
“I imagine so. Eric will be here later, so I’ll dash out to the drugstore to buy one right now. That way you won’t lose any time calling the insurance agent in the morning.”
“No! Go in the morning, when more people are around on the streets. I would be sick if anything happened to you. I don’t want to draw you into my problems.”
“I appreciate that. I’ll pick up the phone before work tomorrow. How’s your hand?”
“It hurt like the devil. I’m doing better now. I saw that Alan came.”
“You had a similar setup in one of your books.” I hoped I hadn’t sounded accusatory.
“That worried me. Everything worries me. The slightest sound, even branches rustling in the wind. I’m always on edge, terrified that someone has located me. I understand your point about my book. I considered it, too. I’ve had far too much time to think. It seems unlikely to be a coincidence, but nothing else happened after that.”
“Maybe the person thought you died from the shock. If he didn’t know that I lived here, he might have thought no one had found your body yet.”
“I just can’t imagine how anyone could know I’m here.”
“There is the possibility that I was the target. In which case it may have been Emily Branscom because she’s the only person who could want to harm me.”
“Emily Branscom? What does that strumpet have against a sweetheart like you?”
“Apparently a number of people thought I was having an affair with Maxwell. It’s simply not true. Alan found Emily’s gym card behind the refrigerator when he repaired it. Sergeant Jonquille speculated that Emily might want to get rid of me so she could have Maxwell all to herself.”
Jacquie sat up straight. “That wicked woman! It’s not enough that she’s seeing my husband? She had to have Maxwell, too? How many men is she sleeping with?”
“Your husband?”
Jacquie flipped her hand. “She’s welcome to him. We had a good run for a few years. But his gambling brought our marriage crashing down. And after this, there’s no hope of reconciliation. I could never go back to him under any circumstances knowing that he planned to kill me. But Emily—two men! She’s such a tiny, innocent-looking woman. I wouldn’t have thought she had it in her.” Jacquie crossed her legs and tapped a manicured nail against her knee. “You see what she was doing? By mimicking a scene from my book, she was trying to cast suspicion on me. Diabolical! I must use that in a book.”
“That’s turning lemons into lemonade.”
Jackie laughed, a full-throated, warm chuckle. “Honey, there’s nothing that happens in life that won’t turn up in some author’s book. People are the most fascinating creatures you can imagine.”
My phone pinged, indicating a text from Veronica. I picked it up.
At hospital with Scott. His dad has been beaten to a pulp. Almost unrecognizable. Horrible.
I debated whether it would be wise to tell Jacquie. Deciding that honesty was always the wisest course, I said, “My sister is dating your stepson, Scott.”
“Really? I’m glad to hear that. He never wanted to talk with me about his love life. I always asked, and he always gave me some kind of idiotic reply.”
“Jacquie, she’s at the hospital with him. Your husband was beaten very badly. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh no.” She sagged against the sofa and hid her face in her hands. “When you borrow from unscrupulous characters and you don’t pay up, they send their goons after you. Will he live?”
I texted her question to Veronica.
Don’t know. Very bad shape.
“She doesn’t know.”
Jacquie walked to the French doors. “I hope they don’t go after Scott.”
“Why would they? He didn’t do anything, did he?” I hoped Veronica hadn’t fallen for a gambler.
“Those people have no conscience. They know that threatening family members will force the debtor to cough up money.”
How had Veronica managed to land in the middle of this? I comforted myself with the thought that they were safe at the hospital. No one would attack them there. But I had to warn her. I texted:
Stay in public areas and be alert. The people who beat him could be dangerous to Scott, too.
Jacquie glanced at her watch and walked over to the kitchen. “We’d better get this place cleaned up before your sweet gentleman friend arrives. I find his presence very comforting. What with the guard outside and a cop staying over at night, I don’t think I could have found a safer place.”
“You don’t have to wash your dishes. I’ll do that.”
She winked at me. “Crumbs, my dear. Never leave crumbs. Your boyfriend is trained to find them.”
“Jacquie, why don’t you stay and tell him what’s happening? I’m sure he could help you.”
“You’re so sweet and naive, Florrie. He would take me to the police station where I would be interrogated. They would take a statement and let me go. And I would be dead in twelve hours.” She clasped my hand. “Promise me. No matter how deep and lovely his eyes are. No matter how your toes tingle or your heart melts. You will not tell him about me. Promise?”
Dead in twelve hours was a fairly strong selling point. “Promise.”
I put away the bottle of wine, and when I turned around, she was gone. Out of sheer curiosity, I wandered the room in search of a hidden door. I examined it top to bottom but could not find any sign of a door or a latch to open it.
I smiled a little. I might have been reluctant to disclose the location, too, if my life depended on it being hidden. I longed to tell Jonquille about Jacquie. Oh, the guilt! But she would come out of hiding soon. She just had to call the insurance company and cancel the policy. What would happen if the insurance company had to have her husband’s permission to cancel the policy? What if he was in a coma or unable to talk or sign a document?
I sat down on the sofa with my sketch pad and leafed through it. Starting with my newest doodles, I worked backward. It was sort of like connecting the dots in a drawing for children. A lot of people appeared to be connected to each other. I doodled a circle.
Emily Branscom was having an affair with Jacquie’s husband. Jacquie’s husband was in dire financial trouble, desperate enough to murder Jacquie. His son was dating Veronica and Helen, apparently simultaneously.
I longed to install Delbert in the middle, but that didn’t work because he wasn’t connected to them all. But someone was.
I flipped the page and began again. This time, Scott went in the middle. He was his dad’s son, Jacquie’s stepson, and the son of Emily’s lover. He was dating Veronica and Helen. And Delbert had been his roommate. Scott was the link between them all.
Could he have murdered Delbert? Or was I jumping to conclusions? Lance had kicked Delbert out by that time, so it seemed unlikely that Delbert would have invited Scott to the bookstore. Delbert was probably angry with Scott. It could have been some kind of revenge.
On the other hand, Scott used a fake name when he met Helen at Color Me Read. That screamed guilt. Why had he visited the store? To scope it out? What was he looking for?
Were he and Delbert there searching for the same thing? Did one of them find it?”
I didn’t want to think that Veronica had been with Scott at the store the night Delbert was murdered. Surely she would have dumped Scott or been hysterical if she knew he murdered Delbert. Of course, she hadn’t told me what happened to her at work. Even if she didn’t come forward with the truth about that night, she wouldn’t continue seeing a killer, would she? But there was that pearl. I doodled it again with a broken strand of pearls. It grated at me because it tied my sister, who was kind and gentle and sweet, to the murder.
I shivered
to think that Veronica was with him at that very moment. I had to get her away from him. She was already miffed with me for telling her he was seeing Helen. This would be tricky. He might be able to see her phone, so a text could be dangerous. Maybe a phone call would be better.
I pressed her number on my phone and listened to it ring.
Chapter 37
My call rolled over to Veronica’s voice mail. Why didn’t we have some kind of secret code that I could text to her to indicate trouble? I had to be very careful what I said.
Veronica, call me as soon as you can. I have a big problem.
I hoped that wording wouldn’t make it sound like I was onto Scott, just in case he overheard my message when she played it back.
A text came in from Veronica.
Seriously? Now? I’m in the ER with Scott, whose dad may not make it through the night. Can’t it wait until morning?
I kept my response simple.
No.
She didn’t text back.
My phone rang and I jabbed the accept button.
“Hi, Florrie. It’s Mom. Is Norman with you?”
“Thankfully, no.”
“He hasn’t come home yet, and his parents are worried sick.”
“Mom, Norman is thirty years old. He doesn’t have a curfew. Maybe he went to a movie.”
“You’re right. His mother always talks about him like he’s ten. Thanks, honey.”
I hung up and called Bob. “Did you find Scott?”
“You bet. I just witnessed the catfight of the year. I’m not sure, but I think your sister won. Helen is pouting, and Scott departed with Veronica.”
