HER SISTER'S KILLER an absolutely gripping killer thriller full of twists

by MICHELLE S. SMITH

  “Mommy, Harvey’s not sharing and caring! He’s a pig!” shouted Carrie, pulling a face back.

  “You were telling me about the joys of settling down the other day?” Victoria murmured to Janet.

  “They were away camping at the time,” Janet defended herself. “I was delusional. Reality all came flooding back the moment they returned with a hair-shedding mutt in tow.” She looked severely at Blake who muttered something and refused to meet her eye. “You know we need to register her at the town clerk’s office?”

  “I’ll go to the clerk and give you time to unpack,” offered Victoria. “They’re open till eight, right?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Janet said gratefully. “You’re a lifesaver. I’m going to phone John Gardner in the meantime and make an appointment to have her sterilized. Just pick up the forms or the gold tag or whatever it is that we need to register and license this hound. Otherwise, we have to pay for each month we’re late.”

  “No problem.”

  Victoria waved as she drove away, hiding a smile at the ensuing chaos that seemed to be typical of Janet’s family. A few minutes later, she had parked and was strolling across the large expanse of grass toward the office. If only Chicago felt this spacious, she couldn’t help thinking, remembering her apartment in Morgan Park nostalgically. Her phone rang.

  “Steve. Hi.” She hoped she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.

  “So, how’s my favorite girlfriend?”

  Girlfriend. The word still sounded foreign, felt foreign, to her and evoked connotations that were slightly intoxicating and dangerous.

  “Want to meet up this evening?” he asked.

  “At the hospital? I’m going there soon if I have enough time.”

  “I want to be alone with you.”

  Remembering the thrill of his touch, she smiled but simultaneously was aware of a choking anxiety.

  “Not tonight, Steve. I’m sorry.” She paused. “I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too.” The words came so casually, so smoothly, off his tongue, as though they were traveling a well-worn path. How many times had he said them before?

  Inside the clerk’s office, there were only a few others waiting to be helped. The woman at the front of the line turned around and gave a nervous start. Megan Jenkins. What was wrong with the woman? Several times, she half-turned as though she wanted to speak to Victoria. Once Victoria had finished at the clerk’s office, she hurried out across the grass back to her car, hoping she would have time to go to the hospital to see Todd before dinner. She checked her phone. There wasn’t really time, but she had to see him. She quickly messaged Janet to tell her why she would be late and pulled out her car keys.

  “Detective,” a voice called out, and Victoria halted, her driver’s door already open. “Can I talk to you?”

  Megan. She must have been waiting for her.

  The woman was twisting her handbag between restless fingers. “Your throat,” she said hoarsely. “Is it okay? Can we talk?”

  “I can’t chat now,” Victoria said, impatient to be gone. “Can it wait?”

  Megan touched Victoria’s neck fleetingly, her eyes widening. Victoria flinched at the contact.

  “I must tell you,” Megan said. She swallowed, then drew back as her husband pulled up in an expensive Mercedes to pick her up. “Later,” she added under her breath.

  “About what?” demanded Victoria, suddenly intrigued.

  “About my husband’s business interests,” she whispered, “and the money he stole.”

  Chapter 27

  “Has there been any change, Sister Lemmer?” Victoria asked the nurse on duty.

  “Not much,” replied the sister, a squat, sour-faced individual who despised all doctors on principle. She glanced in Victoria’s direction with apparent lack of interest, barely lifting her eyes to her face. Victoria’s eyes twinkled. Old Mother Hen, she had been told, was what the other nurses called Greta Lemmer, or sometimes, in less complimentary tones, Sister Lemon — acerbic to her core with no time to waste on niceties. She had, as everyone in the hospital knew, probably saved more lives than most of the doctors on the floor.

  “He woke briefly yesterday,” Sister Lemmer conceded, tearing her attention away from her patient, whose blood pressure she was checking, to address the interloper. “And muttered a little.”

  “He spoke?” demanded a voice from behind them, and Victoria turned to the familiar figure whose large frame towered over them.

  “Steve!” she exclaimed. “You came!” She touched Sister Lemmer lightly on her sleeve. “What words? What did he say?” she asked.

  Sister Lemmer, who had turned back to Todd, glanced around in annoyance. “Not much that made sense,” she replied. “Once he muttered ‘scarf’ and then ‘Eve’.”

  “Eve?” Victoria was mystified. “Why Eve? Even? Adam and Eve?”

  Sister Lemmer didn’t think this was worth a reply. She ignored her and noted the blood-pressure reading from the screen attached to Todd’s bed.

  At that moment, a faint groan came from the bed. Todd opened his eyes to find three faces peering over his bed rail at him.

  “Todd, it’s Victoria,” the young detective said, nervously tapping the bed rail with her fingers.

  Todd looked up at her vaguely and then across to the others. For a moment, no emotion registered, and then suddenly, recognition dawned. His hands started tearing at the bedclothes in agitation, as though he wanted to get up, but he was too weak and uncoordinated still to do more than flail around in the bed. Realizing it, he sank down onto his pillows, and his fingers crept up the bed rail till they lay over those of Victoria. She forced herself not to withdraw her hand and sat down on the closest chair so that he could see her more easily.

  “Todd, we need you to tell us about the murder of my sister,” she said urgently, maintaining eye contact. “And the person you went to see behind the Meeting House. We want to know what happened.”

  Todd nodded and coughed so hard his eyes watered. “Eve,” he muttered hoarsely. “Eve.”

  “It was evening,” Victoria said to the others, glancing at them. “I think ‘eve’ means evening.”

  Todd became more agitated, his fingernails digging into Victoria’s hand so hard she thought he was going to draw blood.

  “Blood pressure spiking,” Sister Lemmer said severely, glaring at Victoria.

  “We won’t be a minute,” she said. “Todd, can you remember who it was that you met that evening who tried to kill you?”

  Todd was about to speak when another coughing fit attacked him. He lifted himself up on one elbow in an effort to support himself.

  “Money,” he whispered, his face pasty from exhaustion. “The money.”

  His eyelids sank and he fell back. Sister Lemmer clicked her tongue.

  “He’s gone again,” she muttered. “Not good.” She bustled around him, drawing the curtains and gesturing them out with an impatient flick of the hand.

  “What on earth did that mean?” Victoria said to Steve.

  “Simple. He wanted money from someone that evening,” Steve replied tensely, his eyes on the dividing curtain. “For keeping quiet about what he knew.”

  Sister Lemmer emerged a few minutes later, her face characteristically grim.

  “When do you think he will wake up again?” asked Victoria.

  The nurse shook her head.

  “Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after.” She paused for a moment. “Maybe never.”

  * * *

  “Where are you parked?” Steve asked, as they left the hospital.

  “Just over there.” Victoria gestured with her hand. “So, I’ll see you at work tomorrow then?”

  She could just make out his smile in the darkness before she felt him put his arm through hers.

  “May I walk you to your vehicle, ma’am?”

  “You don’t have to.” She didn’t sound very convincing.

  “But I want to.”

  Warmth
spread across her chest and her hand traveled, unconsciously, to her neck.

  “You do?”

  He laughed.

  “Come, Detective Wharton. The longer you take, the longer I have to wait before kissing you goodbye.”

  Victoria wasn’t sure whether she was more grateful for the darkness for hiding her blushing cheeks or the breeze for cooling her face.

  “I was so pleased when you arrived tonight,” she said. Admitting even a vulnerability so trivial, she felt stripped to the core.

  “Hey, I can feel you trembling. Is it that cold?” He removed his arm from hers to pull her closer. “Better?”

  “Much.”

  “I’m glad I came tonight too.”

  There was a note in Steve’s voice she hadn’t heard before, and she placed her head on his shoulder briefly. Had he come specially to see her?

  “Do you think Todd is going to make it?” she asked.

  “Who knows? I have my doubts. What do you think?”

  “He must,” Victoria said fiercely. “He is the one person who could give us answers.”

  “Too bad he didn’t tell us what he knew when he had the chance,” Steve replied.

  “It’s been driving me crazy,” she agreed. “To think that the person who could tell us what happened when Becky died was right there in front of us, and yet we still don’t know anything.”

  She paused.

  “Not only that but — if he dies, the case dies with him. We have to keep him alive, Steve. We’ve got to.”

  She shivered again suddenly.

  “Hey,” said Steve caressingly and took her hands. “Take a deep breath.”

  She inhaled, then laughed jerkily.

  “I’m okay. I think. Hey, here’s my car,” she said, trying to control her shaking voice.

  “So, I guess it’s been a pretty tough night for you. Will you be all right to drive home on your own, or would you like me to take you? I can always ask Karen to bring me by the hospital tomorrow to fetch my car?”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Sure.”

  Victoria swallowed back tears.

  “Thanks, Steve. That means such a lot to me.” You have no idea how much. She took another breath and stepped away, half turning her back to him to open her car door. “I’ll be fine though.”

  “I’ll say goodnight then.” She felt his jacket brush against her sleeve as he moved closer. She felt heat flaming into her chest again as his arms encircled her and she felt him kissing her neck. Her muscles tensed first at the contact then relaxed. She turned in his embrace to face him, placing her arms around his neck.

  “You know, I wasn’t too sure at first what I was doing when we decided to give this relationship a chance,” she admitted.

  “Yeah, I got the feeling you were a bit nervous.”

  Victoria laughed, embarrassed. “There hasn’t been anyone for a long time.”

  “No? Those Chicago guys really missed their chance.”

  “No, no. I mean, it was my choice. You know, I was focusing on work.” And terrified to let anyone close, terrified of the nightmarish memories of my father that seemed to surface whenever I risked a relationship.

  “And now? How do you feel about us?”

  In reply, she reached up and kissed him.

  “Does that answer your question?” she asked breathlessly.

  He laughed and pulled her closer.

  “Maybe you should tell me one more time, just to be sure I understood you. What do you think?”

  She nodded wordlessly, hoping he could see her in the night shadows, and he bent his head to hers, kissing her cheek, her lips, her neck.

  “I’m glad I waited so long to find someone like you,” she murmured.

  She stepped back slightly and glanced up at him shyly.

  “And you?”

  “I’m also glad you waited to find someone like me,” he joked.

  “No, I mean—” she wasn’t sure how to word it. “I don’t want to intrude. I mean, I guess there have been a lot of girls before me.”

  “Not that many,” Steve replied, taking her hand.

  “Has it also been a long time for you?”

  “Much too long,” he answered quickly.

  “I just thought—”

  “You think too much, Detective Wharton,” he said, his finger touching her cheek as he kissed her. “You know that?”

  “Right now, I can hardly think at all,” she murmured.

  “Hey, you know what? Same here,” he said. “And right now, I’d rather not be thinking. What do you say?”

  “Good idea, Detective McCade,” she whispered, kissing him again.

  * * *

  Victoria parked outside the vet’s surgery and got out of the car slowly, regretting her offer to fetch Harvey and Carrie’s overly boisterous puppy — whom they had named Belle — after her sterilization. Janet had argued that ‘The Beast’ was a more appropriate name if they were going with fairy tales but had been outvoted.

  The waiting room was almost empty.

  “Claire, is Janet Mitchley’s dog ready for collection?” asked Victoria.

  Claire Timms smiled awkwardly and looked away. “I’ll check,” she murmured, hurrying away to avoid chatting. What was wrong with the girl? Before Victoria had time to analyze the matter, Claire had returned. “Come through, please. She’s here.”

  Victoria followed her to where Belle was being kept. The enormous puppy flung herself onto Victoria, so thrilled that it seemed not only her tail but her entire mop-like body was wagging itself. She didn’t seem to be subdued by her operation one bit.

  “Who needs a husband if you’ve got a welcome like this waiting for you at home?” laughed Victoria, trying not to overbalance as Belle threw herself at her rescuer. “No licking my face, please!”

  Claire looked wistfully at Victoria. “A husband would still be nice,” she said, a slight catch in her voice, and Victoria frowned. Why was Claire so down? Steve. The answer leaped out at her suddenly. She’d been so caught up in the craziness of the past few weeks that she’d forgotten how Claire worshipped him. But how did she know? Had Karen worked it out and told her?

  “You’re much too young to get married,” a voice interrupted her thoughts. “Your boss forbids it for at least another six months. It’s in your contract.”

  Claire looked around to see John standing in the doorway, pulling off surgical gloves. He grinned at her, and she managed a faint smile and squeezed past him, hurrying back to her desk.

  John’s grin faded as he stepped into the room. “When was your boyfriend going to bother to tell her that you are together?” he demanded. “I mean, just the other day, it was her he was trying to impress. She was so excited to go to that ball with him — she could talk about nothing else.”

  Victoria shook her head. “It all just happened very suddenly, I guess.”

  John stared out of the window, his hands on his hips. “Very suddenly,” he replied under his breath. “Claire had been meaning to ask him to the Shakespeare show that’s happening at the Hancock Inn. Instead, she ended up crying at her desk.” He paused. “I didn’t even know you were together until she told me.”

  “Why should you?” demanded Victoria, annoyed. “What’s it to you anyway, who I date? It’s none of your business.”

  “Maybe you and your boyfriend suit each other pretty well after all,” John answered. “You don’t care who you hurt, do you?”

  “How did I hurt you?” Victoria said, the volume of her voice rising.

  “I’m not talking about myself. I’m talking about Claire. You couldn’t have made her feel more of an idiot if you’d tried. Claire told me you got together on the evening of the ball at which Steve was supposed to be partnering her.”

  “He was! He did!” protested Victoria. “It wasn’t like they were a couple.”

  John didn’t bother to reply to her.

  “Can I take Belle?” Victoria snapped, her voice catching. Her eyes bl
urred with tears.

  He gestured to her to take the dog, and she scooped her carefully up into her arms, grateful for her softness.

  She brushed past him at the door.

  “I thought I knew you.”

  The words were spoken so quietly that Victoria wouldn’t have heard if she hadn’t been listening for them, for anything, from him.

  She turned to look at John. “Yeah? Well, I thought I knew you too.” She bit her lip, staring at him across the hurt dividing them. “I thought you were my friend.”

  John stared back at her, with no sign of the warm smile or the dimple that appeared when he was teasing her. “What friend would I be if I kept quiet, Vicky?” he muttered. “To you or to Claire?”

  He sank down onto one of the empty dog cages, his shoulders hunched over so the unruly copper of his hair covered his face. “I wouldn’t have bothered to say anything to you,” he said simply, “if I didn’t care.”

  The silence between them stretched till Victoria could bear it no longer.

  “Goodbye, John,” she replied. The sound of her voice echoed in her ears. It sounded very final.

  * * *

  Once at the police station, Victoria pulled up Megan Jenkins’s number on her cell phone.

  “Answer your phone, Megan,” she muttered. “Come on. You know you want to talk to me.”

  “Why would she want to speak with you?” asked Officer Karen Timms curiously, overhearing Victoria.

  “Some dirt in Maurice’s past.”

  It was at this inopportune moment that Megan’s husband walked in, accompanied by Steve.

  “Maurice!” exclaimed Victoria.

  Seeing the two together accentuated to Victoria everything that Maurice was not. Steve’s supple leanness and the hardness of his toned body made her swallow with pride. He’s mine, she thought.

  Maurice shoved his hands into his pockets, and strode back and forth as though trying to gain his composure.

  “Where is the boy?” he snapped at last.

  “Your son, Gavin?” Karen asked, perplexed. “How would we know?”

  Maurice stopped in his tracks at the genuine confusion in her voice. “You really don’t know, do you?” he said. “The boy has been gone since last night.”

  “Why would you assume we knew where he was?” asked Karen.