Sharpe Edge (Cozy Suburbs Mystery Series)

by Lisa B. Thomas

  Estelle pondered the question, not sure how much she should trust Irene. “You and I both know how cautious Mother was about those stairs. The fact that she fell just seems suspicious. Too coincidental. Everyone says I’m just not accepting her death. That I’m looking for someone to blame.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes. But only because I still find it hard to believe that she would have gotten that close to the edge of the stairs on her own. I’m going to say the right things and do the right things. But between us, I still think there’s a killer out there, and I won’t stop looking until he’s caught.”

  Clover padded her way across the hardwood floor and jumped into Estelle’s lap. She looked into the cat’s forlorn eyes. “You were there, weren’t you, pretty girl? I wish you could tell me what happened.” She leaned down and brushed her cheek across Clover’s soft head and closed her eyes, picturing her mother.

  Irene sat quietly. She cleared her throat. “Can I make you a sandwich or something?”

  “That sounds wonderful. I’ll be up in my room. I haven’t been sleeping well, and I have a big day tomorrow.”

  Irene stood and wiped up a drop that had spilled on the table. “Really?”

  “Yes. I’m having lunch with Blake.”

  “I’ll make you some extra special tea. Guaranteed to help you sleep.”

  “Thanks.” Clover jumped to the floor, and Estelle slowly climbed the back stairs to her bedroom.

  She emerged from the dressing area, her hair dry, her face washed. Dressed in her pink and gray flannel pajamas, she looked young and vulnerable. The tray of food Irene had left her lay on the foot of the bed. A vase with a red rose added a sweet touch. She switched on the bed lamp and snuggled in under the covers. The aroma of the tea relaxed her senses while the hot brew warmed her insides. After taking a few bites of the chicken salad sandwich, she felt better.

  Her thoughts turned to Howard Collier and what he had said about her uncle. She wondered if she should go see him at the hospital. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture his face. She had only gotten a quick glimpse of the man. Would he resemble her mother? Would their mannerisms be the same? After all, they were twins.

  She tried to open her eyes, but they protested. She managed to sit up for just a minute and glanced over at the nightstand. There behind a cloth napkin was her mother’s bottle of sleeping pills. After putting the tray on the floor, she lay her head on the pillow. Sleep pulled her deeper and deeper into its grasp. And then, she was out.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Staring at the clock on the nightstand, Estelle wished time could slow down. “I promise I’ll call you as soon as I get back,” she said and ended the call with Russell. She dreaded her lunch date with Blake, but she was ready to get it over with. This will be the last time I have to see him. He’ll be gone, and I can be with Russell.

  But, she had one thing to do first.

  Irene was in the kitchen putting away the dishes when Estelle stood in the doorway, arms folded across her chest. “I need to ask you about last night.”

  Irene jumped, obviously startled. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you put sleeping pills in my tea?” She tried to soften the edge in her voice but knew it still sounded sharp.

  Irene set a plate on the shelf and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Yes ma’am. One pill. You said you needed to get a good night’s sleep. I was trying to help.”

  She seemed sincere. Estelle’s arms dropped to her sides. “I appreciate your wanting to help, but you should have asked me first.”

  Leaning back against the counter, Irene seemed contrite. “I used to do the same thing for your mother. She didn’t like to admit she sometimes needed pills to sleep, so she would drop a hint. I would put one in her coffee or tea.”

  “Well, I’m not my mother. Please don’t do that again.” She turned and walked down the hall to the parlor to wait for Blake. Why does everyone think they have to protect me? I can look out for myself, she thought.

  Irene followed her out. “Are you excited to see Mr. Whitman today? I really hope you two get back together. He’s such a handsome man.”

  That seems awfully forward, Estelle thought. No wonder Mother kept Irene at arm’s length. “Yes,” was all she managed to say.

  *

  Blake looked quite dashing when he arrived. He wore dark blue slacks, a white button-down shirt, and an argyle sweater vest under his long wool coat and matching scarf. She could imagine him standing in front of his shiny new car with a jacket thrown over his shoulder, holding a pair of driving gloves. Once again, his put-together look just made her feel shabby.

  When he leaned down to kiss her, she turned her cheek to avoid his lips.

  “Let’s go,” she said, opening the front door herself.

  They had lunch at a cafe overlooking the narrow river that ran through the south part of town. The last time they had eaten there, fall leaves had painted a brilliant, colorful picture, the perfect backdrop for their budding courtship. Today, the trees were bare, the grass brown. The cold, dreary weather matched her mood. She avoided eye contact as they made small talk. Surely, Blake must be getting the message, she thought. Do I look like someone about to accept a marriage proposal?

  After the server removed their plates, Blake reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring box. Estelle felt her insides turn over.

  “Estelle, you know how I feel about you. I should never have let you go. I loved you then and I love you now.” He opened the box. Instead of the ring he had given her before, this one had a diamond twice the size. “Give me another chance. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving my love.” His voice held less passion than before. It was almost as though he had rehearsed this moment and was simply going through the motions.

  She looked down at her hands, wringing them in her lap. “Blake, it’s no use. I don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry.”

  He grabbed the box and put it in his pocket. Without saying a word, he signed the credit card receipt and stood up. Estelle followed him outside to the car, searching to find the right words.

  “Blake, I just—”

  He held up his hand. “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.”

  She looked at his face. She wasn’t sure if she saw sorrow or anger.

  He didn’t bother to walk around to open her door, so she got in and waited. Standing next to the car, she saw him typing a message into his cell phone. He got in and returned the phone to his jacket pocket. As he did, she caught a quick glimpse of the screen. All it said was, “Plan B.”

  *

  The more Russell thought about Estelle’s being out with another guy, the more antsy he became. He finally decided to drive into town and wait at her house. The reception he received at the back door was even chillier than the wind blowing through town that Friday afternoon.

  “Mr. Sinclair. What are you doing here?” Irene stood in the doorway blocking the entrance.

  “Hello to you, too, Irene. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “Miss Fitzhugh is not here. I will tell her that you stopped by.” She started to close the door.

  “If it’s okay, I’ll just wait here.” He stepped around her into the kitchen. “I want to be here when Estelle gets back.”

  “Oh, I see. So you must know that she is out with Mr. Whitman.”

  “Yes, for the last time.” He rubbed his hands together to shake off the cold.

  Standing like a sentinel next to the door, she held up her chin and asked, “What do you mean?”

  “She’s breaking up with him. Didn’t she tell you? She’s with me now.” He caught himself strutting a bit as he climbed the back stairs. “I’ll be waiting in the sitting room if you need me.”

  “Mr. Sinclair—”

  He stopped about halfway up and looked back. “Please, call me Russell.”

  “That is somewhat presumptuous of you. Miss Fitzhugh always has her guests wait in the parlor.”

  “I’d rathe
r wait up here where there’s a television.” He was anxious to return the letters to their former hiding spot. “Oh, and would you mind bringing me some coffee? It’s mighty cold out today. I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Certainly.” Her forced smile told him she was not happy with how pushy he was being. He went straight to Carolyn’s sitting room and found the fake book on the shelf. He took it to the desk and pulled the envelopes out of his jacket pocket. Sitting at Carolyn’s desk, he couldn’t help but wonder what she had found out that caused her to force Blake Whitman out of Estelle’s life. Staring at the envelopes, his curiosity got the better of him. Just a quick peek, he thought.

  Just as he pulled the papers out of the envelope, Irene came in with the coffee. “This should make you feel better,” she said. “Drink up.”

  “Thanks. Would you mind closing the door behind you? It’s a little drafty in here.”

  He took several big gulps and then turned his attention to the investigator’s report. He couldn’t believe what he was reading.

  It outlined years’ worth of cons, mostly against unsuspecting wealthy women. Only one had ever pressed charges, but he had managed to beat the rap in the end. Probably those other women were too embarrassed to admit he had taken advantage of them, Russell thought.

  What really disturbed him was a hand-written notation at the end of the report. Someone—most likely Carolyn—had written ‘$100,000.’ She must have paid him off to disappear. So that’s how he could afford a brand new Porsche.

  By the time he finished reading, Russell was fuming. How could Estelle have fallen for such a blood-sucking leech? Whatever Carolyn did to run him off was a good thing. He had to tell someone. He called Deena.

  She answered on the first ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “So I read the report on Blake Whitman.”

  “You what? Where are you?”

  “I’m at Estelle’s waiting for her to get back from dumping that creep. You’re not going to believe what a scumbag he is. Apparently, he makes a living conning rich women out of their money. He must have seen Estelle as a colossal payday.” Hearing a shuffling noise in the hallway, he turned his head toward the door.

  “That explains why Carolyn ran him off.”

  “She didn’t run him off, she paid him off—$100,000, to be exact.”

  “That’s incredible! Good for her.”

  Russell stared at the open door. “I really wish she would hurry up and get back. I don’t trust that guy.”

  “You don’t actually think he’s dangerous, do you?”

  “I don’t know what to think. But if he had been at the party, I’d be pretty suspicious of him right about now.” He folded up the report and stuffed it back in the envelope. Thinking he heard the creaking noise again, he put his finger in his good ear and gave it a shake.

  “Hey, do you mind if I call you later?” Deena asked. “I’m trying to get to the antique mall before the weather gets worse.”

  “No problem. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Just as he ended the call, Irene appeared in the doorway.

  “I thought you might need a refill.” She smiled and walked over to pour more coffee. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”

  When she left, Russell got up. He put the envelopes in the hollow book and placed it on the shelf. As he turned back to the desk, his head began to spin and his stomach felt queasy. He sat down and took several more swigs of coffee. Was he getting another migraine? What was happening? His head felt like a bowling ball, his neck like rubber. The last thing he saw before his head hit the desk was Irene walking into the room wearing a bright red wig.

  *

  Deena was ready for a day of normal. No funerals or knives or lies. Just normal. She wanted to work on her booth and to find some vintage decorations to go with her display in the den. She would be going back at work on Monday and wanted to make the most of the day. It was just two weeks before the big family get-together, and she was starting to get nervous.

  The temperature had dropped overnight. She dug through the back of her closet to find the scarf and glove set she had bought on sale at the end of the season last year. These will be perfect she thought as she looked in the mirror. The bruise on her forehead had finally faded and her mood was lighter. She opened the patio door to let Hurley inside. He looked festive in his red and green snowflake sweater. “Good boy,” she said and tossed him a treat.

  Janet had the front window of the antique mall filled with a kitschy holiday display. A silver aluminum tree with a rotating light was the centerpiece. She put it out every year but never sold it, despite the numerous offers she had received.

  “Well, speak of the devil,” Janet said when Deena walked through the door. “Did your ears itch? I was just talking about you.”

  “Nothing bad, I hope.”

  “No. A woman named Marie James called me earlier today about renting a booth space. Said she knew you.”

  “The beauty of living in a small town,” Deena said, unwrapping the scarf from her neck.

  “What do you think of her? You know I’m picky about who I let sell here.”

  Deena hesitated. Everyone deserves a second chance, she thought. If I don’t stick up for her, then I’m a hypocrite. “I think she’ll be fine. Is her sister going to be on the contract, too?”

  “I’m not sure. She’s coming up here in a few minutes to talk about the details.”

  Great. Just the person I didn’t need to see today. “I’m going to check on my booth. I’ll talk to you later.” She strolled back to her booth, browsing other vendors’ spaces along the way. She stopped to look at a pair of angel figurines. Too pricey, she thought, and set them back down.

  Her shelves had several empty spots where items had been purchased. Thank goodness, she thought. Someone finally had bought her carnival glass punch bowl set. She heard the bell on the front door and peeked down the aisle. Sure enough, there was Marie. Deena ducked back into her booth, wishing she could disappear.

  *

  They did not speak on the way home from the restaurant. Blake’s cell phone rang twice, and both times he ignored it. As he pulled into the driveway, Estelle finally spoke. “You can drop me at the front.”

  “It’s raining,” was all he said and pulled around to the back door.

  He got out and walked around the car to open her door. Still a gentleman, Estelle thought. They ducked their heads and hurried to the back door. He opened it and they both stepped inside. Estelle turned to say goodbye. Blake pulled the door closed behind him and locked it.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s not what I’m doing. It’s what you’re doing.” He pulled a pair of leather gloves out of his pocket and put them on. “You’re making a big mistake. You chose the wrong man. And you know, if it weren’t for all that money, he could have you.”

  Estelle started to back away, but Blake grabbed her by the arm.

  “You’re hurting me!”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” He laughed when he saw the confusion on her face. “I did it. I came after your mother with a knife. Who knew that stupid cat was hiding in her chair?” He used his other gloved hand to pull at the scarf wrapped around his neck. “Nearly took my face off. I’ll probably have scars.”

  Estelle stood motionless, unable to fully grasp what was happening.

  A voice came from the top of the stairs. “We have a problem.”

  “Irene?” Estelle asked.

  “What’s the matter?” Blake jerked Estelle’s arm as he moved closer to the stairs. “Is there a problem with the safe?”

  “No, I cleaned it out. It’s all in that bag.” She motioned toward a brown duffle on the floor next to the door. “Just get up here.”

  Blake pulled Estelle behind him as he hurried up the steps. When he reached the top of the landing, he watched Irene hurry into the sitting room. Turning to Estelle, he said, “Your mother figured it out. It was all about the
money.”

  She tried to pull free but he grabbed her and held her arms behind her back.

  He leaned his face against her head. “When I smelled your hair, it had the scent of freshly-minted cash. When I stared into your eyes, I saw dollar signs.”

  He pushed her down the hall. “There’s something I thought you should know about that night. I didn’t show up here to kill your mother. I was going to kill you.” He pushed her up against the wall. “She came out of her bedroom and saw me just as I was about to open your door. She didn’t scream. Probably didn’t want you to come out. She kept rolling farther and farther away from your room. Taunting me. I knew what she was doing. I’d probably have taken care of you both if that cat hadn’t attacked me. I guess your mother and that cat saved your life.” He shook his head. “Not this time, though.”

  Estelle cried and tried to fight, but Blake’s hold was too strong.

  “Too late for tears.” He pushed her to the door of the sitting room. “You’ll be leaving this room the same way I did that night—and all those nights you teased me with that Romeo and Juliet crap.”

  “Russell!” Estelle tried to break free and run to him, but Blake held her tight.

  “What the—” He looked at the desk to see Russell passed out. “What happened?”

  “He came over to wait for her. Said she was going to break it off with you. I took care of it.”

  “How?”

  “I laced his coffee with sleeping pills.” She pointed to the side of the desk where the empty bottle sat. “They will think he killed himself when he found out his dearly beloved accidentally fell to her death.” She pulled back the curtains and opened the balcony door. Cold wind filled the room as the curtains blew against her.

  “No one is going to believe that!” He looked around the room. “We’ll have to take him with us. We’ll dump him on some back road. Get the bags and make room for him in the trunk.”

  “Make room in the trunk? There’s barely enough room for the two of us in that stupid sports car of yours!”