Past Due for Murder

by Victoria Gilbert

  “You should change out of those things before you catch a chill. Follow me.” Charles strode away again.

  I trailed him with trepidation, suspecting the only clothes he could offer would have once belonged to Marlis. Definitely not what I wanted to wear.

  Charles led me into a large, airy bedroom. One wall held built-in closets and cabinets. Crafted from pale wood, the various doors and drawers were fitted together with the precision of storage space in a yacht. The opposite wall consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a view of a well-tended flower garden bordered at the back edge by a thick grove of trees.

  “Here, let me give you some privacy.” Charles pulled a set of vertical blinds across the lower level of windows. “Not that anyone’s around, but I don’t want you to feel exposed.” He crossed to one of the built-in drawers and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and a sweatshirt. “Some of my workout gear. Hope you don’t mind,” he added as he laid the items on the bed.

  “No, that’s fine.” I eyed the sweatshirt, wondering whether something that would fit Charles’s slim torso would actually accommodate my more curvaceous figure.

  “Very well, I’ll let you change. Just bring those wet things out with you and I’ll give them a quick spin in the dryer.” Charles turned in the doorway to glance back at me. “Would you like some tea or coffee? I can easily brew some.”

  “Coffee, please, and if you have any brandy, I wouldn’t mind a shot of that thrown in.”

  Charles smiled and inclined his head in a gesture not unlike a bow. “Your wish is my command.”

  After he left the room, I crossed over to the door and locked it. Not that I thought Charles would try to take advantage of me, but because …

  Because it feels odd to be in his house, changing into his clothes, with him just beyond that door. Even though he’s seen you dress and undress plenty of times in the past, this isn’t the same.

  It felt different because I was different, I realized, as I pulled the sweatshirt over my head. I wasn’t the same girl who’d fallen in love with some renowned musician eight years her senior. No longer the naïve young woman who’d idolized Charles and put up with his controlling behavior, I now felt immune to his charms. Honestly, I couldn’t even imagine why I’d ever thought he was justified in demanding that I change everything about myself to better fit into his life. Which hadn’t worked, of course.

  It would never have worked because I was never what he wanted. Not then. I yanked on the sweat pants, which were tight but fortunately stretchy enough to fit. No, he never really wanted me, I thought as I rolled up the bottoms of the sweat pants to accommodate my shorter legs. I was just a dalliance.

  Because it was obvious to me now that he’d always preferred someone like Marlis—talented, charming, self-assured, and confident in her own body. Someone who would challenge him, not bow to his every whim. Someone who knew she was every bit as valuable and important as he was.

  Someone more like the woman I am now.

  I tugged at the tight sweat shirt, but it still clung to my curves like a second skin. It will have to do, I thought, dumping my discarded clothes onto the bath towel that I’d dropped on the floor.

  As I knelt down to pick up the bundle of soggy clothes, a thump drew my gaze to one of the closets. A shoebox had fallen and popped open one of the doors. I straightened and walked over to the closet, planning to simply open the door and shove the box back inside. But when I swung open the doors, I was surprised that the closet was barren except for one gold-and-white sequined evening gown. Empty hangers forlornly filled the rest of the wooden hanging rod. I thought it seemed odd. Even though I knew that this hadn’t been their primary residence, I would’ve expected to uncover more of Marlis’s clothes. But there was nothing left in the closet—nothing except one dress and the fallen shoebox.

  Of course, Charles may have already gotten ridden of her things. I picked up the shoebox. Perhaps the sight of her clothes was too painful to bear. As I lifted the box over my head to place it back on the shelf above the hanging rod, the top popped open and something slid out and fell across my bare foot. I picked it up, prepared to shove it back into the box, but paused to stare at it instead.

  It was a white hat. Hand-knitted, with bright-blue snowflakes emblazoned around the edge.

  Lacey Jacobs’s hat.

  I closed the closet doors and backed away, still clutching the knitted cap. Without thinking, I stuffed it into the pocket of my borrowed sweatpants and crossed back to the pile of damp clothes on the floor. I wrapped them in the towel and scooped them up before making my way out of the room.

  “Ah, there you are,” Charles said, pointing to a ceramic mug. “Coffee is ready, and brandy is on the counter. Here, let me have those wet things and I’ll toss them in the dryer while you doctor your drink.”

  I mutely handed over the bundle and crossed to the marble-topped island. As he headed for a small room off the kitchen, I grabbed the brandy bottle and poured a good slug into one of the jade-colored mugs before adding coffee.

  “All taken care of,” Charles said as he walked back into the kitchen. “Although feel free to wear those borrowed things home if you don’t want to change again. I can always pick them up later.”

  I studied him, admiring his cool confidence while I fingered the knitted cap in my pocket. He thinks he’ll be dropping by my house sometime soon? Of course he does. He was undoubtedly certain that this encounter was merely the prelude to establishing a new relationship with me.

  “I don’t mind changing back into my clothes,” I said after taking a healthy gulp of my alcohol-laced coffee. “Besides, you said you might be selling this place. Once you move, it might not be that easy for you to run by Aunt Lydia’s house.”

  Charles poured a little brandy in his own coffee. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t be so hasty in making a decision to sell.” His brilliant-blue gaze ranged over my body. “I might decide to stay around a little while longer.”

  I set down my cup. “Well, before you make that decision, perhaps you’d like to explain this.” I yanked Lacey’s hat from my pocket and dangled it in his face.

  Charles blanched. “You snooped through my things?”

  “No. A box fell in your closet, and when I went to put it back, I found this.” I waved the hat. “I know this belongs to Lacey Jacobs. What’s it doing in your house?”

  Charles took a long swallow of his coffee before carefully placing the cup on the counter. “I found it. At the accident scene.”

  “Wait, what?” I dropped the knitted cap onto the marble surface of the island. “You mean where Marlis was killed?”

  “Yes. Can we sit down?” Charles motioned toward the main room.

  I mutely followed him over to the white leather sofa and took a seat at one end while he sat at the other. “Now, please explain. You found Lacey’s hat near Marlis’s body? But why didn’t the authorities confiscate it for evidence?”

  “Because I was the first person on the scene and I never told them about it,” Charles said, lowering his head. “I discovered the body.”

  “Oh goodness, I didn’t know that.”

  “It isn’t common knowledge.” Charles glanced over at me from under his golden lashes. “You’re actually the only one who knows. I called 911 immediately, of course, even though I’d checked her pulse and knew Marlis was already dead.”

  “You left her there?” I hadn’t intended to use such a sharp tone, but Charles just shrugged.

  “Yes. You have to understand—I was in shock. I grabbed up the hat from the ditch and just jumped in my car and drove off. That is, I guess I did. I don’t really remember much about that day.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the police about the hat, though? I mean, I assume you knew it didn’t belong to Marlis.”

  Charles raked his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. I thought about it, but then there was the funeral, and after that I took off traveling. When I returned from Europe, I found the ha
t in my car and just stuffed it in that shoebox in the closet.”

  “You didn’t think it might be a clue as to who struck Marlis?”

  “Not at first. I guess I just didn’t want to think too closely about anything to do with the accident. Then I saw that report on TV about the student who had disappeared …”

  “Lacey Jacobs.”

  “Right.” Charles glanced at me. “I realized she must’ve been the one who hit Marlis. But she was missing at that point, and I thought … well, I wondered if she’d finally been overcome with guilt and run off into the mountains to do herself an injury.”

  “You suspected she meant to kill herself?”

  Charles nodded. “So I didn’t want to bring the hat into the equation. Not until after … after whatever happened. When they found her and she was injured and the doctors had to induce a coma, I thought I’d just wait and see what she said when she came out of it.”

  “If she comes out of it, and with the capacity to communicate. She may not. You know that’s possible, right?”

  “I know.” Charles slid a little closer to me. “Look, Amy, I’m sure you think I should share this with the authorities, but if the girl ends up with brain damage, well maybe that’s enough of a punishment. I doubt she meant to hit Marlis. It was just an accident.”

  I studied his drawn face. He was suffering, that was certain. Perhaps, in his own way, his sparing Lacey further pain was one way he felt he could salvage something from this tragedy.

  “She should have reported it, though. As I should report this hat to the authorities as soon as possible. However”—I held up my hand, cutting off Charles’s protestations—“I promise not to say anything until after the girl regains consciousness. You’re right—she should be given the chance to confess. That would probably go a long way toward mitigating any criminal penalty.”

  “That’s what I thought. She’s a young woman with her entire life ahead of her. I’d hate to see her spend the rest of her days in jail over an accident, no matter how negligent she was in reporting it.” He swallowed. “Punishing Lacey Jacobs to the full extent of the law won’t bring Marlis back. Nothing will ever do that.”

  “You really did love her, didn’t you?” I said as Charles dropped his face into his hands and silently wept. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s perfectly natural to cry, given the circumstances.” I patted one of his heaving shoulders.

  “Thank you, Amy,” he said, lifting his head as he covered my hand with his. “It means a lot to me that you still care.”

  I slid my fingers free of his grip and sat back. “I sympathize with your loss. But as for anything else …”

  “You mean you don’t really have feelings for me.” Charles pulled a tissue from his pocket and dabbed the tears from his cheeks as he studied my face. “After what I did to you, I suppose that’s fair.”

  “It’s not that I don’t care at all, it’s just that my feelings have changed. I don’t love you. Not like I once did.” I crossed my arms over my chest as he continued to examine me. “Although to be honest, I don’t think I ever truly loved you, Charles. I loved my imaginary idea of you—an image I created in my head. Not the real you.” I smiled to myself as I recalled my aunt’s words on this subject. It was a lesson she’d learned as well, although later in life than me. “I apologize for that. I wasn’t really fair to you either, as it turns out.”

  “If you say so, although as I told you before”—Charles leaned forward—“seeing the woman you’ve become, perhaps I should’ve given our relationship a little more time.”

  I stood up so quickly that the pillows behind me flew off the sofa. “Sorry, Charles, but it’s too late. That ship has sailed over the horizon. And speaking of things being too late, perhaps you could retrieve my clothes and allow me to change so you can drive me to my car? I really should be getting home before my aunt starts to worry. She’ll expect me back from work soon.”

  Charles did as I requested, saying nothing more about any possibilities of a future relationship between us, although I caught him sneaking glances at me as he drove me to the trailhead.

  “You know, Amy,” he said as I climbed out of his car. “I’ve learned that life is rather more unpredictable than one expects. Which means I still have hope that, going forward, we can at least be friends.”

  “You can always hope,” I said, before shutting the door.

  Sitting in my own car, I considered my next action. It was true that Aunt Lydia would expect me home soon, but I had another destination in mind. I pulled out my phone and sent her a text.

  “Stopping by Richard’s,” it said. “Don’t hold dinner for me.”

  Because after talking to a man I had once thought I loved, I knew I needed to talk to the one I truly did.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Richard enthusiastically welcomed me but apologized for his sweaty condition. “I’ve been rehearsing. That is, when Loie lets me. She keeps leaping at my legs.” He pointed a toe at the kitten, who just looked up at both of us with her green eyes rounded in innocence.

  “Don’t be silly, you know I don’t mind that,” I said, throwing my arms around his neck. “And Loie obviously wants to dance with you.”

  “Which is cute, but I don’t want to trip over her.” Richard pulled me so close that I could feel his heart beating under his damp T-shirt. “I certainly don’t want to fall and hurt her.”

  “Or yourself.” I leaned back against his arms and looked up into his face. “I just had to stop by and tell you something.”

  “Glad you did, but what’s that?” Richard slid one hand up my back as Loie batted the tassel on one of my loafers.

  “I love you.” I rose up on tiptoe to kiss him.

  “Always good to hear,” Richard said, after returning my kiss. “But what brought this on?”

  I dropped my arms and grabbed one of his hands. “Stuff that happened today. Let’s sit and talk.”

  “Okay.” Richard followed me to the sofa, still gripping one of my hands.

  Loie, obviously thinking this was a new game, pranced and pounced, weaving in and out of our legs. It took some fancy footwork to make it to the sofa without taking a tumble.

  Richard and I dropped down onto the couch at the same time while Loie jumped onto the coffee table, curving her black tail into a question mark. “Silly cat.” The kitten obviously interpreted my indulgent tone as an invitation to leap into my lap.

  “That’s what she wanted,” Richard said as Loie curled into a ball so tight that her little black nose touched the tip of her tail.

  I stroked the kitten and smiled as her purring rumbled against my fingers. Leaning back against the sofa cushions, I glanced over at Richard. “I needed to see you because I heard something from Hope Hodgson today that made me lose my mind for a bit.”

  “Oh?” Richard reached out and brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Did you get caught in the rain? Your hair’s all tangled.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not important right now.” I grabbed his hand as he pulled it away. “I doubted you. Just for a few minutes, but still …”

  “What do you mean?” When Richard lowered our clasped hands to my lap, Loie rolled over and pressed her warm body against our entwined fingers.

  I explained what Hope had told me about Lacey’s involvement with some older man. “I really didn’t think it could be you, but she planted this evil little seed, and”—I gazed down at our hands, unable to meet his eyes—“for a moment I almost believed it. Anyway, I started questioning myself and went out for a walk to clear my head. On the Twin Falls trail.”

  “You got caught in that storm this afternoon?” Richard reached out with his free hand and tipped up my chin. “That was foolish, Amy.”

  “Almost as foolish as doubting you. But not quite.” I met his concerned gaze. “I’m so sorry. I should never have given any credence to Hope’s theory. I know you better than that. You’d never get involved with a student.”

  “No, I never would. Besid
es, wasn’t this supposed to be going on after I met you?” He raised his eyebrows. “You really believe I’d cheat on you?”

  “No, and I feel terrible for even imagining …” I swallowed. “I just wanted to apologize for doubting you at all. It makes me feel like such a rat.”

  “Maybe a slightly drowned one,” Richard said, squeezing my fingers as he offered me a smile. “Don’t beat yourself up. I seem to remember that I withheld some important information from you recently. I can understand why the doubt might creep in.”

  Loie meeped and rolled over on her back. “Still, I realized how stupid such an idea was after I spoke with Charles.”

  Richard pulled his hand free and sat back. “Bartos? What were you doing talking with him?”

  “Don’t be jealous. I was at his home, but I promise it was simply a refuge from the storm.” I absently rubbed Loie’s soft belly. “His house was the closest option. I stopped there just to dry off and beg a ride back to the trailhead. Anyway, spending more time with him made me realize the difference between the way my heart feels when I’m sure of someone and when I’m not.”

  “So—sure of me, but not him?”

  “Exactly. I never really loved him, you know. Just my notion of him.”

  Richard slid closer and placed his arm around my shoulders. “I’ve done that in the past. Created a person in my head and tried to force someone to match that image.”

  “Yeah. Poor Charles. For all his faults, he never had a chance of living up to the fantasy I had created around him.” I snuggled against Richard. “Meanwhile, I know and love you just as you are. Anyway, you surpass all my fantasies.”

  “Do I?” Richard kissed the top of my head. “Glad to hear it, but it also sounds a little daunting.” He grinned as I looked up at him. “Continuing to surpass the fantasies, I mean.”

  I tapped his chest with my finger. “I think you’re up to the challenge.”