Past Due for Murder

by Victoria Gilbert

  “Surely you know me better than that.” Charles covered the distance between us in two long strides. “You of all people should understand that I’m not the sort of person who’d do such a thing. You who always believed in me.” He hung his head to stare at his expensive leather loafers. “Amy, I am sorry. I know you truly loved me, and I abused that love. But I do sincerely apologize for how badly I treated you. Can’t we be friends again, at least?” As he lifted his head to gaze into my eyes, he reached out and took hold of both of my wrists. “I can’t believe you no longer feel anything for me.”

  I stepped to the side, yanking free of his grip. “Don’t touch me again without my permission or you’ll see exactly how I feel.”

  There it was—the anger that I’d attempted to bury under a bushel basket of sympathy and basic human kindness. I glared up into Charles’s bemused face. “Your apology is accepted, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends. Honestly, we never were, and we’re not going to be now. I can be civil to you, and even muster sympathy for your current situation, but don’t think for a minute that means you’ll have free rein to manipulate me. You may believe you know me, but I’m not quite the pushover you think, Mr. Bartos.”

  Passion flared in his blue eyes. “Very well. Although I confess that seeing you now, ablaze with all this fire and confidence … well, I regret I never saw this side of you before.”

  “You might have,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, “if you’d ever bothered to really get to know me instead of trying to change me all the time. And news flash—I am no longer available, even if I were still interested in you. Which I am not.”

  “So this thing with Richard Muir is serious?”

  I stared at Charles, refusing to look away despite the intensity of his gaze. He believes he could lure you back.

  I choked back a bitter laugh. It was true. He really seemed to think that such a thing was possible. As I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, it I struck me that, while I could remember spending nights in his arms, such memories evoked no emotion. It was like remembering a movie I’d watched once. It didn’t ring with the resonance of something that had actually happened to me.

  “Yes, Richard and I are very serious. To the point that we aren’t seeing other people and are not likely do so. And on that note, I think I’ll leave.” I turned away, heading for the door. “You do have my condolences on the death of your girlfriend, Charles, but I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with Mona on your own.”

  “And I will.” Charles, who’d followed on my heels, gazed down at me with an expression I’d never seen on his face before.

  It was a repressed fury, and something else. Something calculated.

  Something dangerous.

  I grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, cracking open the front door. “Are you planning to slap her with a defamation suit? Be careful with that. She claims she has some dirt on you …”

  “What? What did she tell you?” Charles made an attempt to grab my arm again, but I was too quick for him.

  I crossed to the edge of the porch but stopped short as sirens wailed through the clear mountain air. The sirens trailed off, as if moving in the opposite direction. I gripped the top rail of the balustrade as a sheriff’s department car roared up the short driveway and spun around in the parking circle, spitting gravel. I glanced at Charles over my shoulder and noticed that he had gone as still as if he’d been encased in ice.

  Of course, I thought, my anger fading to a hollowness in my chest, this is probably exactly what happened when they came to tell him about Marlis. No wonder he looks like he’s in shock.

  Brad Tucker jumped out of the vehicle and strode over to the porch. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes searching my face.

  “Just expressing my sympathy over Mr. Bartos’s recent loss.” I tightened my lips when Brad waved me aside and headed straight for Charles.

  “Charles Bartos,” he said in a tone of command, “I need to ask you some questions, so if we could move inside …”

  Charles stretched out one arm, barring entry through the open front door. “Not until I know what this is all about. Does it have anything to do with Marlis?”

  “No.” Brad motioned for the other man in the car, whom I recognized as Deputy Coleman, to join him on the porch. “An unrelated case.”

  “Pertaining to what?”

  Brad shot me a swift glance before leveling his sharp gaze on Charles. “The discovery of a young woman—lost, injured, and incoherent—on property adjacent to yours.”

  “Lacey?” I sprang forward. Deputy Coleman blocked my path to Brad but gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

  “And the dead body we found near her,” Brad said, his gaze never leaving Charles’s expressionless face. “Someone I think you might know, Mr. Bartos. Are you familiar with a professor named Ramona Raymond?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Brad sent me on my way as soon as Deputy Coleman made one or two more inquiries into my visit with Charles. It was clear from both deputies’ disinterest in my presence, as well as Brad’s swift ushering of Charles inside for further questioning, that they suspected that Mona had died some time before I’d arrived at the house. Realizing this was not the time to share anything about my theories concerning Delbert Frye and his family’s gold, I simply filed that information away until I could call Brad later.

  As I drove away, I kept my speed slow while my mind raced.

  Mona Raymond is dead, but how? Was it an accident or murder? Of course, neither Brad nor Deputy Coleman had shared their thoughts about that with me.

  As I approached the town, I flipped my car radio to a local station and caught the tail end of a special report detailing Lacey’s rescue and Mona’s death. The mention of a gun confirmed my suspicion that it had been a murder.

  Don’t jump to conclusions, Amy. It could’ve been an unfortunate hunting accident. I mulled over Ethan’s words from our recent encounter. It wasn’t hunting season, but that didn’t always stop people from taking a shot at wildlife. And if someone had done so, without a license and out of season …

  I listened intently as the reporter described the sheriff’s department’s discovery of Mona’s car abandoned at the Twin Falls trailhead. It appeared that she had parked there and walked into the woods. Possibly searching for her missing student, one commentator remarked, although that action seemed like something best left to the authorities. “But,” they continued, “sometimes concern can make people take peculiar actions.”

  The only indisputable facts were that Mona had been shot by someone wielding a rifle and that Lacey couldn’t have been the shooter. No gun was found anywhere in the area, and that, along with Lacey’s poor physical condition, seemed to rule her out. But why Mona’s body had been discovered near the girl was still a mystery and unfortunately seemed destined to remain so for some time. The authorities couldn’t question Lacey, as she was suffering from a serious head injury, and the doctors had induced a coma to give her brain time to heal.

  Rifle, I thought, remembering Walt’s comments about Delbert Frye. Perhaps that was why Brad had been so insistent on speaking with Charles—he might have hoped that Charles could provide some information on the recent comings and goings of his eccentric neighbor.

  I gnawed on the inside of my cheek for a second. Mona had hinted that she had some information on Delbert’s family that she hoped to use to force the old man to speak with her. Perhaps she had parked at the trailhead to hide her car, then had taken one of the woodland trails that connected with Delbert’s property to walk to his cabin. If she had appeared on his doorstep threatening to expose a Frye family scandal, it was possible, given Walt’s mention of his volatile personality, that Delbert had lost his temper. Knowing how Mona could provoke even the most mild-mannered individuals with her tenacity and impolite demands, I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone like Delbert had shot her.

  But I knew that the existence of that old letter in the archives,
and its mention of gold, also pointed to other suspects. One of her students, or in Chris’s case, a romantic partner, could have followed Mona and killed her to keep a valuable discovery to themselves.

  Or to keep her from turning it over to the authorities. I flexed one cramped hand and then the other as this possibility occurred to me. Anyone obsessed with obtaining a fortune might kill an individual standing in their way, and knowing Mona, I was positive she’d have turned over any old gold coins to a museum or historical society. She would’ve been more interested in the research possibilities associated with such a find than in hiding its discovery.

  Maybe one, or two, or even all of her students had disagreed with that plan.

  Still shaking slightly when I reached the library, I parked in the back lot and entered through the rear door. As I approached the circulation desk, I realized that Lacey’s discovery and Mona’s death were already hot topics of conversation. Several of our older patrons stood in front of the desk, asking Sunny to read information off the computer, while some younger patrons stared intently at their cell phones and chatted excitedly with each other.

  “You heard?” Sunny sent me a raised-eyebrow glance as I slipped behind the desk.

  “Yeah, actually …” I surveyed the interest on the faces of the patrons clustered before the desk. “Never mind, I’ll fill you in later.”

  Fielding continuing questions over the latest unexplained death in Taylorsford took up most of the afternoon. I had to wait until we closed the library before I could share any more information with Sunny.

  “Charles wanted your help and support? That’s rich.” Sunny frowned as she locked the back door and we headed for our respective vehicles. “You don’t think he had anything to do with Mona’s death, do you?”

  I made a disbelieving sound. “Who, Charles? Heavens, no. I can’t imagine him even owning a gun, much less firing one.” I bit my lower lip as the image of Charles’s furious face rose in my mind. But no, it couldn’t be. I lived with him. Surely I would’ve picked up on something like that. “Besides, I think I’d know if someone I had dated for over a year could be a killer. I mean, we were intimately involved …” I shook my head. “Honestly, I just can’t imagine such a thing.”

  Sunny unlocked her canary-yellow Volkswagen Beetle and paused, holding on to the door. “How about for now we make a pact—I won’t suggest that I think Charles is capable of anything, and you won’t go running off and meeting him alone.”

  “Oh, come on. We’re talking about Charles here,” I said, unlocking my own car. “I know he’s a self-obsessed jerk, but a murderer? I sincerely doubt it.” I flashed a grin. “It might muss his hair.”

  “There is that.” Sunny returned my grin. “Anyway, enjoy your day off tomorrow, and tell your parents hi from me.”

  “You should stop by. I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

  “And have to navigate the churning whitewater of parents meeting parents? No, thank you.”

  “Why did you have to remind me?” I dramatically pressed the back of my hand to my forehead. “I may develop the vapors.”

  Sunny laughed. “You? I doubt it. Just don’t drink too much.”

  “Not promising that.” I waved goodbye as I climbed into my car.

  But as I drove slowly past her still parked Bug, Sunny leaned out her rolled-down window and called out, “And tell Richard about today’s visit, or I will.”

  I groaned and drove off—and spent the short distance between the library and my aunt’s house rehearsing how I should best confess today’s events to Richard. Because I knew Sunny. If I didn’t tell him, she would follow through on her threat.

  I sighed. Sometimes friends who cared too much were as difficult to manage as family members who noticed too much.

  * * *

  I set my alarm to wake me early on Friday. Despite having the day off, I knew I needed to start my work in the garden as soon as possible. I’d ignored the overgrown vines and burgeoning weeds for far too long.

  The day was warm enough to allow me to wear a light pair of pull-on cotton pants and a T-shirt. Both were faded and full of holes, although—as I’d informed Aunt Lydia when she’d cast a disparaging gaze over my ensemble—that was for the best. I needed to prune some roses, among other things, and with their thorns …

  “No use wearing something nice that will just get ripped up,” I’d said, while she’d narrowed her eyes and tapped one finger against the kitchen table.

  “As long as you change before your parents arrive.”

  “Of course. I’ll want to get a shower too,” I’d replied, pulling on my floppy straw hat. “Never fear—I will look presentable this evening, I promise.”

  Aunt Lydia had muttered something about “promises being like pie crusts” as I’d dashed out of the kitchen and across the back porch before racing down the steps that led outside.

  Aunt Lydia’s entire backyard was a garden, comprised of square beds set in a grid marked out by gravel paths. The white pea gravel contrasted beautifully with the greenery and the rainbow colors of flowers and vegetables and also kept the underlying red clay from soiling our shoes. But it did require constant maintenance, especially in the rainy spring months. Having neglected this chore for far too long, I knew it might take me all morning to simply clean up the paths.

  I was right. By early afternoon I’d finished yanking the weeds from the gravel but still had to tackle the flower and vegetable beds. I straightened and pulled my hat off my head, using it to fan my flushed face as I surveyed the garden. Wiping my damp upper lip with a crumpled tissue, I stretched out my legs, one at a time, before slamming the hat back over my tangled hair. I couldn’t possibly clean up everything and decided to focus on the most visible areas, like the front row of beds.

  Aunt Lydia called to me from the back porch about a half hour later. I thought she intended to scold me for ignoring lunch, but when I jogged over to the back steps, she informed me that I had a phone call.

  “From someone named Adele Tourneau,” my aunt said, rolling a dust rag between her hands. “She said she called the library and Sunny told her you were at home.”

  “Adele? I wonder why she’d be calling me.” I bounded up the steps, slid past Aunt Lydia, and made a run for the hall phone.

  Aunt Lydia trailed after me. “So you know this woman?”

  “Yes, from my trip to New York. She’s one of Richard’s former teachers.” I lifted the phone receiver from the side table and shooed away my aunt with a wave of my hand.

  Aunt Lydia snapped the dust cloth through the air before walking into the dining room.

  “Hi, Adele, sorry to put you on hold, but I was working in the garden …”

  “Hello, Amy, and it isn’t a problem. I have no pressing engagements.” Adele Tourneau’s cultured voice took me back to a night from the previous fall, and a party given in honor of the Ad Astra Dance Company. Richard had choreographed the company’s latest contemporary piece and danced the lead role for a series of charity performances. The reception held following the final performance, at a gallery owned by Kurt Kendrick, had been the first time I’d met Adele Tourneau.

  And the last time I’d spoken with her, until now. “What can I do for you, Adele?”

  “Actually, it’s what you can do for Richard. I’m sure you’ve heard about his recent encounter with Karla Dunmore.”

  I pulled the phone receiver away from my ear and stared at it for a second. No, I hadn’t heard anything, but I wasn’t about to tell Adele that. “Um, sure.”

  “I assume he’s rather broken up about it, poor boy. I just wanted to let you know that I spoke with someone who’s in touch with Karla, and she apparently feels terrible about how that situation played out.” Adele delicately cleared her throat. “I thought you might share that information with Richard. Perhaps you could even suggest that he try to approach Karla again. I would call him directly, but I thought it would be better coming from you. I was so involved with both of them back in
the day, he may believe I’m interfering more on Karla’s behalf than his. If the news comes from you, a neutral party, it might seem less like a directive and more like a suggestion.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” I said, although nothing about this conversation made any sense to me. “I’ll certainly talk with him about it.”

  And chastise him for not telling me the truth. Sweat slicked the fingers that gripped the receiver, while the nails of my other hand bit into my palm.

  “Thank you, dear. I just hope the two of them can work out their differences. It seems such a shame that they can’t be friends, after all this time.”

  “Definitely a shame,” I replied, fighting to prevent my anger from vibrating through my voice. “Anyway, thanks for keeping me in the loop, Adele.”

  “Thank you, Amy. And give Richard my best, would you?”

  “I will.” Along with a piece of my mind.

  I was able to maintain my pleasant tone while we said our goodbyes, but after Adele hung up, I slammed my phone receiver back into the cradle and immediately flew out the front door.

  My hat sailed off my head as I ran toward Richard’s house, but I didn’t bother to stop and pick it up. It could decorate the front lawn for days for all I cared.

  I was on a mission to find answers, and I would get them, one way or the other.

  Chapter Twelve

  Allowing anger to fuel my progress, I dashed up the steps and across Richard’s front porch and leaned heavily on the doorbell.

  Richard stepped back as soon as he opened the door. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Maybe you should tell me.” I marched over to the sofa.

  After closing and locking the door, Richard strode across the room and stood in front of me. “Tell you what?”

  I squared my shoulders and glared up into his face, not allowing the tension I spied there to weaken my resolve. “Oh, I don’t know. About some mysterious meeting with Karla, perhaps?” I tapped his chest with one finger. “I’m thinking that this little encounter may have been the reason you were in a bus or train station that Friday night, despite your ambiguous statements to the contrary. And it might also explain why you stayed out of touch while you were visiting your parents. It wasn’t just the party. You were also tracking down your old dance partner.”