“Lucky Eleanor.”
“I kept trying to tell her it was hard to break into all the houses she wanted me to search. But she insisted. Not even when that dude went out of town could I get past his fancy alarm system. Ellie got mad at me, threw a downright hissy fit.”
“Ellie? How sweet,” Eastlyn said in a demure voice. “You do realize that you aren’t the first person Eleanor has used to do her bidding, right? She has a son, Jonathan Matthews, almost as old as you are. Poor Jonathan’s doing a stretch in Corcoran because she talked him into attempted kidnapping some months back. From what I hear, Jonathan makes sure he writes to ‘mommy’ every single day without fail, though.”
“Ellie has another kid?” Delbert asked in disgust. “What else hasn’t she told me?”
“I imagine the list is as long as your arm.” Eastlyn exchanged looks with Brent. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
A sleepy-eyed Quentin appeared in the doorway, holding his black bag. “Is this the guy who needs a doctor?”
Brent stood up. “Sorry to say, his nose got in the way of a fist. Shame he tried to take off running when he saw us. See what you can do to make him more comfortable because our guest isn’t getting out of here anytime soon.”
Quentin set his bag down, studied the prisoner. “Broken nose. I’ll reset it and tape him up. Any other problems I should know about?”
Brent rubbed the back of his neck and stood up. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you can fix stupid or make this Georgia boy less gullible.”
Eastlyn bobbed her head in the direction of the hallway toward Brent so he’d follow her out of the room but still allow them to keep an eye on their prisoner. “If Eleanor’s using a guard on the inside, she could be tapping into all kinds of other illegal activities using those special privileges. She’s obviously using every dumbass she encounters for her own purposes.”
“I’ll contact the warden and put a stop to it. She’ll end up in solitary, which means she’ll be desperate to talk when the right time comes. It’s the .38 I’m wondering about. Did you see how old that gun is?”
“I thought Cooper was sure he buried it in the backyard that night with the bodies.”
“Memories from a little boy so long ago are hardly concrete. And she might have gone back to dig it up after she swam out of the Bay.”
“Delashaw did have access to Eleanor’s possessions back in Georgia. That might explain how the murder weapon ended up circling back here after all these years.”
“That’s why I’ll have to send it to ballistics.”
“We’re a hotbed of police activity,” Eastlyn noted with a little too much joy in her voice.
“And I’m sensing you’re loving every minute of it.”
“Well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to stay on her toes—especially when half of those toes are gone.”
Twenty-Three
Once word made the rounds through the Jennings family that Delbert Delashaw was behind bars, they decided to get together for brunch at Caleb’s house.
Caleb and Hannah prepared omelets while Molly looked on from a corner of the kitchen. The dog could get around now without a limp and with several days of antibiotics, the pup acted friskier than ever before.
Hannah plated a cheesy concoction of peppers and ham for Landon and served it to him with diced potatoes and fruit on the side.
Landon rubbed his hands together. “This looks delicious. This girl can cook, a plus in my book. It was nice putting that closed sign on the door in the middle of the week, letting people know we’d be back at two o’clock. Taking a breather for lunch like this, we should do it more often.”
“It’s a special occasion,” Cooper cited. “I like how Eastlyn’s plan came together.”
“We all do,” Caleb began. “But there’s something I still don’t understand. Eleanor told this Delbert guy the gold was in the kitchen. If it’s true, then how did it end up in a bedroom under the floor board?”
“Bothers me, too,” Eastlyn threw in. “I’m convinced Delbert was telling the truth. According to the pictures Caleb took, Delashaw concentrated most of his efforts in the kitchen, upset that he couldn’t find the loot in there. I’m also convinced that, at some point, someone moved it from a seventeen-year-old girl’s original hiding place to the bedroom. It would also explain why she didn’t take the gold with her when she left that night after dumping her kids and disappearing into the night.”
“She didn’t know where it was,” Hannah concluded.
“You got it,” Eastlyn stated. She watched as every member of the Jennings family glanced around the table, accusing eyes on each other.
“You think one of us moved the bag?” Drea determined.
Eastlyn looked around the room. Her eyes stopped at Landon and stayed there. She waited for him to come clean by boring a hole in him with the cop’s glare she’d perfected over several months.
Beads of sweat popped out on Landon’s brow. “I lied. The other day I told you guys I hadn’t laid eyes on that bag until then.”
“But that wasn’t the truth,” Cooper stated. It wasn’t a question.
“No, it wasn’t. After the bag disappeared from the safe, it wasn’t difficult to figure out who’d taken it. But I had no idea where she’d hidden it. One day I figured out that every time Eleanor left town she came back with a new outfit. About a week later, I followed her out of town and discovered she was making trips to the cabin. She’d grab a coin or two, and then head to San Francisco for a shopping spree. You guys were just babies the first time I caught on to what she was doing. But it didn’t take long for me to get tired of watching her flaunt the money in my face when my business struggled every month. At one point, Shelby and I were down to our last thousand dollars. So, one day I followed her ass up there, parked my truck out of sight, and hiked back on foot. I saw her through the kitchen window running her fingers through the coins like a genuine Ebenezer Scrooge, only female, acting slightly more irrational. The bag was sitting out on the table. I waited until she put it back behind the panel and stayed hidden until she left. Once I discovered her hiding place, I went in and took several hundred coins out of the bag.”
“Oh, Landon,” Shelby groaned. “You didn’t?”
“To save our business, you bet I did. I took the bag and hid it in the bedroom that was mine as a kid. I knew about the hole in the floorboard. I didn’t want her squandering anymore of the money. I knew she’d never find it there, and I was right. I took those coins to a dealer, got close to twenty-five thousand dollars for them, which I put right back into the business. Every time I needed an influx of cash, I went back to that bag. But there was a huge price for my deception that I didn’t count on happening.”
Landon took a deep breath before going on. “After that, when Eleanor would make trips to the cabin and couldn’t locate the gold, she started acting crazier than ever. She’d go, and I’m paraphrasing Cooper here, ‘she’d go bat-shit crazy’ a little more off the deep end each time she couldn’t find the gold. It became evident in the way she started panicking over every little thing. From something Layne did to something you kids would do. She’d go nuts, screaming fits, and threatening to do dire things. She’d always treated Layne and you kids like shit, but she got much worse after not having access to the money.”
Landon put his head in his hands. “It’s my fault. All of it. What happened to Layne and Brooke was all my fault. I knew she wanted out of her life and I sabotaged her effort by taking that gold away from her, withholding her access to what she considered her fortune. I honestly think it drove her insane. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to everyone about it, but I was ashamed of what I’d done.”
“It was as much yours as it was Eleanor’s,” Caleb voiced aloud. “Eleanor’s the one who stole it, killed to get it, and then refused to share it with anyone else. I don’t see how that’s your fault.”
Landon looked up at Shelby. “I’m sorry, honey. To think I’m the one
who pushed Eleanor to kill Layne and Brooke. She came damn close to killing the kids. I’ve had to live with that for…way too long.”
“Nonsense,” Shelby said, running her fingers through his hair. “You did no such thing. The Eleanor I know has never cared a whit about anyone but herself. The narcissist is responsible for deciding to commit murder, not you.”
“On that I’m sure we all agree,” Eastlyn declared. “Okay, that’s one part of the mystery solved. We can accept the fact that Eleanor went to the cabin that night to make one last desperate effort to locate the bag. She must’ve gone totally off the rails without finding the gold.”
“Wonder who she turned to for help without having access to the gold?” Hannah speculated. “It had to be someone in town she could trust.”
“We’ve always believed she had help. That’s the second part of the mystery,” Caleb stated. “But we may never know the truth.”
Landon glanced up at Eastlyn. “How’d you know it was me who moved the bag?”
“I wish everything was that easy to figure out. You’re the only one who had access and a reason. I knew you’d eventually crack from what you saw as guilt. I just had to keep badgering you with a look every now and again until you came clean.”
Cooper noticed his wife’s demeanor. She chewed on her thumbnail until he finally said, “There’s something else?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t even be discussing the case like this, but, I think you need to know the rest. GBI, that’s the Georgia Bureau of Investigations, got back to us about an hour ago. Delashaw isn’t just wanted for murder, but he also has a string of felony convictions for credit card fraud, theft, and burglary. There’s been a warrant out for his arrest since he skipped town about the same time Eleanor was extradited back to California. In other words, Delashaw followed Eleanor here and he’s been on the run ever since. Georgia expects California to return the favor and extradite Delashaw back to their stomping ground. But that isn’t the biggie. When we arrested him, he had a .38 in his possession. Brent reminded me that a .38 was used to kill Layne and Brooke.”
“Surely you aren’t suggesting that it’s the same weapon?” Cooper asked. “I buried it in the backyard.”
Eastlyn rested her hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “All I can tell you is what I know. It’s an older model gun manufactured five months before the murders. That fits the timeframe. Eleanor likely went back that night and retrieved it. Brent’s already sent the gun off to the firearm’s specialist in Santa Cruz. We’ll know soon enough if it’s the murder weapon. But get this, we discovered it was originally registered to Douglas Bradford.”
“Wow, that’s a telling piece of evidence,” Hannah declared. “If only Bradford were still alive, he’d have some explaining to do.”
For Caleb, the stench of the past hung over the rest of the day and put him in a foul mood. He snapped at Cora Bigelow for asking a simple question about potting soil. He did the same with Marabelle Crawford who wanted to know how to grow a jade plant. And then to top it all off, he forgot to deliver a pallet of rosemary seedlings earmarked for Promise Cove.
By the time he got off work, he was in such a state that he decided he wasn’t fit to be around anyone else. For the past several hours he hadn’t even answered Hannah’s texts. And then around seven-thirty they stopped coming in altogether.
He sat in the dark in his study listening to Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings. For someone who claimed the past didn’t bother him much, Eleanor had fully gotten under his skin. The way she reached out from inside a cell to play puppeteer showed a power that made his stomach churn. After all these years, she still held them all in the palm of her hand. Going over Delbert Delashaw’s pattern of devotion, it made him wonder if there were others out there, and if so, how many. She had the ability to talk people, especially males, into doing whatever chore she wanted them to do for her.
It creeped him out. But mostly, it pissed him off.
A day ago, he was wishing for a life without a past, one closer to what everybody else had. But now, he had to admit, those ordinary and normal things would never be there for him. Sometimes normal just wasn’t meant to be. He had to face facts. Fate had dealt him a mother with a heartless outlook on life and a mental problem. He couldn’t deny he’d come from a monster, a woman with no soul, no heart, no empathy for anyone but herself.
What the hell was he doing wishing for things he couldn’t have? What the hell did he know about anything other than the psychopath that made him?
Hannah’s joy at having a dog circled around to one indisputable truth. She no longer walked in the door to an empty house. In just a few days her little cottage had seemed to take on a different personality.
Because Molly still needed looking after during the day, Hannah had brought in Francie Odana to take up the slack.
Thirty-four-year old Francie had suffered a brain injury during her teen years. She’d been the only survivor of a car accident that had taken three other lives. After spending almost two years in a coma, she woke up one day only to realize she’d have to learn how to walk and talk all over again.
Accomplishing that feat had taken her another two years in an assisted living facility. Even though her speech was slow and she would always walk with a limp, Francie decided she wanted to leave the group home and move in with her sister. Irene owned a one-story house on Sandpiper Lane where Francie didn’t have to climb stairs. The two sisters had found contentment living together for the past ten years.
While Irene spent her days on the phone selling cable TV packages, Francie picked up odd jobs doing whatever she could to make money around town. She raked leaves, washed dishes, and sometimes swept up after church services on Sunday afternoons. She was also a part-time custodian at Murphy’s Market, sweeping up, mopping the floors, and taking out trash. But what Francie loved most of all was taking care of her own Welsh Corgi, a service dog she’d had for almost eight years.
When Cord and Keegan took over the animal clinic, Francie begged them for a job feeding and caring for the animals, some of which had to stay overnight to recover from surgery. Once Cord and Keegan discovered Francie’s knack with the patients and the loving way she treated each cat, dog, or injured ferret, they snapped the woman up. She was so good, she sometimes took on the difficult task of subbing at the rescue center, working around the seals and sea otters.
It hadn’t taken long for Hannah to realize Francie was a gentle soul who cared for Molly like the dog was her own pet.
When Hannah walked in the door that afternoon after work, the house buzzed with energy. Francie sat on the floor, which Hannah had come to realize was her favorite spot, playing tug-of-war with Molly. The dog held onto a rawhide chew toy for dear life.
“How was she today, Francie?”
In her slow drawl, Francie went into detail. “It’s a joy watching Moll-y get strong-er each time I’m with her. She was down-right frisk-y to-day.”
“Did she finally eat her dry food?”
“Better. She likes it better than before.”
“Want to stay for dinner? I thought I’d fix stir-fry.”
“Thanks but I-rene ordered us piz-za.”
“Lucky you. Then you better get on home before it gets cold.” Hannah reached in her pocket and pulled out the cash to pay her tab. “Thanks. I don’t know what Molly would do during the day without you.”
“S’okay. I like Molly.”
“She likes you, too. Next week, I should be able to bring Molly to work with me. She’ll be able to be around other dogs by then. But I might need you to sit with her when I work my last shift at the bar this weekend.”
“No pro-blem. Let me know.”
After Francie left, Hannah plopped down on the couch with the dog in her lap. Molly stretched out to enjoy the rubs. When Hannah moved to scratch the dog’s belly, she couldn’t help but glance at her cell phone. She picked it up, only to see there were no texts from Caleb. Disappointment roiled in her stomach like bad fish. He
hadn’t bothered answering her texts, which told her he didn’t want company.
That was fine by Hannah.
“Stupid man,” she muttered. “So what if he refuses to text me back. Who cares? Let him act like an idiot.” She let out a sigh. “Why do men have to be so dumb, Molly? Tell me that.”
Molly yipped and got to her feet. Her short tail wagged with excitement.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should go check on him.”
Hannah bagged up the fixings for her stir-fry recipe to take to Caleb’s for supper. “I doubt the man’s eaten. What would he do without us, huh Molly? What?”
She clipped the leash onto Molly’s collar and led her out to the SUV.
Five minutes later, she reached the dead-end circle on Cape May. The house was dark, not a light on anywhere inside. And of course since he’d probably parked his truck in the garage, she couldn’t even tell if he was home.
“Would you look at that? The man’s taken to his bed like a spoiled teenager.” She reached for the phone and tried one more time to text Caleb.
I’m sitting out by the gate. Open up. I brought dinner.
A few seconds ticked by before the gate swung open.
He met her at the front door with a sheepish, hangdog look. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought my text pretty much summed it up.” She set Molly down on the pavement and held up her bag. “I figured you probably hadn’t eaten yet.”
“Hannah, I had a lousy day and I’m afraid I’d just take out my bad mood on you tonight. That’s why I really need to be alone.”
“Are you telling me I should leave?”
His shoulders drooped. “No, of course not. Come in.” He bent down to scrub the dog’s ears. “How are you doing, girl?”
Molly tried to give him a head butt and settled for licking his hands.
“What did you bring to eat?”
“Oh, so now you’re interested in what’s in the bag. Why didn’t you text me back? There are people who might possible worry about you.”
Beneath Winter Sand Page 23
