When the Stars Fall (The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series Book 2)

by Willis, Becki

  “One last thing, Maddy,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  He nailed her with one look. “Tell me why you were really outside Caress Ellingsworth’s house tonight.”

  The man doesn’t miss a thing! she fretted silently. “I-I told you.”

  “I know what you told me. Now tell me the truth.”

  “I swear. I was watching for Caress.” She returned his honest gaze, for she spoke the truth. Just not all of it.

  Brash nodded solemnly. “And I believe you.”

  She almost grinned. Before a smile could work its way across her weary features, he squelched her sense of relief. “What I want to know is why you were watching Caress. And before you give me some song and dance, please remember that it’s almost three in the morning, and that Genesis is sitting out there waiting on you.”

  “I don’t know why you don’t believe me. I wanted to see what Caress really looked like.”

  “At midnight.”

  “I felt like it would give me the opportunity to see the real woman, not just the actress.”

  Brash mumbled something that sounded like, “You’re a pretty good actress, yourself.” Pushing out a tired breath, he spoke loud enough for her to hear. “I never took you for the type to follow those daytime soaps.”

  “There’s a type?”

  Brash had finally reached his limit. “Cut it out, Madison!” he demanded, his face set in hard, haggard lines. “If you aren’t going to tell me the truth, get out of the truck!”

  His angry tone stung. Madison relented, but only slightly. She still felt the need to protect her client.

  “Okay, you’re right,” she grudgingly admitted. “I didn’t watch her soap opera. But my mother-in-law did. She was a huge fan of the show and was devastated when it was canceled. I couldn’t sleep tonight, and I ended up here in front of Caress’s, innocently looking inside her house through the picture window. And that, I swear, is the truth.”

  His anger dissolved, right along with his energy. Brash dropped his dark auburn head back against the seat and allowed his shoulders to sag, if only for a moment. “Go on home, Maddy,” he said quietly.

  “Are you- are you still mad at me?”

  “I’m not mad. I’m frustrated.” He made the admission with his eyes closed. A full beat went by, in which Madison wondered if he had actually fallen asleep.

  No such luck. After a brief respite, he opened his eyes and looked at her. “You may be telling me the truth, but it’s not the whole truth. Which leads me to believe you’re playing junior detective again, after I distinctly told you not to.”

  “I-I…” She sputtered helplessly, unable to lie, yet unwilling to tell the truth. She could not quite meet his eyes, either. After a moment, she reached over and groped for his hand.

  He pulled his hand just out of her reach. “Go home, Maddy,” he repeated softly.

  Because there was nothing left to say, she did just that.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was her last day to work at the car dealership. Madison was late arriving, but no one noticed; the place was abuzz with the news of Caress Ellingsworth’s death.

  Madison went straight to her office. She closed the door, put away her purse, and almost jumped out of her skin when a voice whispered loudly, “I thought you would never get here!”

  Madison literally squealed. After the night she had, her nerves were frayed. Having people hide in her office and jump out at her did not improve matters.

  “George Gail, what are you doing here?” she demanded, clutching at her chest to keep her heart in place. Any minute now, it might pump its way right out of her body.

  “Shh! Don’t say my name! No one can know I’m here.”

  “Why are you here?” Madison asked bluntly, staring at the disheveled woman. George Gail’s hair was unkempt, her makeup smeared, her clothes crumpled and stale. She looked terrible.

  “I had to see you! We have to plan our strategy!” The frantic woman grabbed for Madison’s arm with hands that were icy cold and trembling.

  “Strategy? What are you talking about, George Gail?”

  “Shh!” the woman hissed. In a loud whisper, she spoke frantically. “I told you, don’t say my name. Do you think anyone heard you?”

  “There are only three people out there, and they’re all too busy talking about Caress to notice anything else.”

  Her head bobbed up and down. “Good, that gives us time to develop a plan.”

  “What on earth are you talking about? What strategy? Why do we need a plan?”

  “To throw the police off track!”

  Madison eyed her cautiously. “George Gail, is there something you need to tell me?” On second thought, she did not want to hear a confession. She threw up her palm. “Stop. Never mind. If you have something to say, say it to Brash. Or to a lawyer. Leave me out of it.”

  “But you’re working for me! You’re already involved!”

  “I’ve told you a dozen times, I am not a private investigator.”

  “You’ve been doing investigative work for me, in private,” George Gail Burton pointed out.

  “I’m not licensed. What I find is strictly on amateur status. We’ve been through this.”

  “But you were the one to discover that my husband was having an affair with- with her.”

  Madison sighed heavily. “That still does not explain why we need a plan and why you are hiding behind the door.”

  “I told you, no one can know I’m here.”

  “The walls are solid, George Gail. You can have a seat in the chair, no one will see you.” Madison tried to keep exasperation out of her voice as she seated herself behind the desk. The other woman was genuinely distraught.

  George Gail slumped into the nearest chair with gratitude. “What a night!” She blew out the words on a whimpered breath. “Tell me everything you know about Caress’s murder.”

  “I was thinking you could tell me what you know.”

  “Nothing! I can’t find out a thing! Cleo Bishop called all hysterical, saying she was dead. That’s all I know. I rushed over here as soon as I could!”

  “Who is Cleo Bishop?”

  “She makes all the costumes for the church Christmas play.”

  Madison’s face puckered in confusion. “So what’s her connection to Caress? Why was she so hysterical?”

  “Because Caress directs our play!” George Gail’s incredulous tone suggested Madison should already know this. “She has a roll in it, too. Usually Mary, but one year she portrayed an angel. You should have seen the outfit Cleo made for her that year. Absolutely stunning. Yards and yards of-”

  Before George Gail could go into full detail, complete with hand gestures, Madison interrupted her. “I remember you saying you were in the play, as well. Meaning you worked with Caress on them?”

  “Of course. Like I said, she was our director. I admit, I only had a small part each year. This past year, I was one of the wise men.” Seeing Madison’s quizzical eyebrows, she went on to explain. “Not many men participate in the play. I managed to wrangle Curtis into playing Joseph, and your Uncle Joe Bert was a wise man, along with me and Darla Mullins. They were the only two men willing to help out.” As a new thought crossed her mind, George Gail gasped and made a scandalized expression. What was left of her blue eye shadow appeared like a stormy streak beneath her tussled bangs as she threw a hand to her generous bosom. “What if that was when it happened?” she breathed in horror. “What if I pushed him into her arms? What if their sordid affair started when they were playing parents to Baby Jesus?”

  “From everything I have heard about your husband, George Gail, I sincerely doubt that,” Madison assured her. Then again, according to those very same people, he would also never cheat on you. “Someone mentioned Darla Mullins last night. Who is she?”

  “She and Caress are best friends. They do everything together, just like your Aunt Trudy and me. You rarely see one without the other.”

  Madison im
agined how horrible it would be to lose her own dear Genny. The thought was unbearable. “Poor Mrs. Mullins,” she murmured with empathy. “I can’t imagine what she must be going through.”

  “I’m sure she’s desolate,” George Gail agreed. “They were practically inseparable.”

  Madison drummed her fingers as she thought aloud. “She probably knew whether or not Caress was having an affair with your husband.” Too bad she hadn’t known about her earlier. Talking to the friend would have been so much more pleasant than practically witnessing the actress’s death.

  George Gail’s audible gasp drew her attention back on task. “We’ll have to tell her not to say a word!”

  You should be the one in Hollywood. Madison grunted the thought to herself. Definitely a drama queen.

  Schooling her voice to mask the irritation she felt, she asked, “George Gail, was there something I could do for you?”

  “You have to help me. I need an alibi!” Her hysterical voice rose higher than she intended. Her widened eyes swallowed all traces of blue shadow and she clamped both hands across her mouth. As if the belated action somehow recalled the hurled words, she repeated them in a loud whisper, “I need an alibi.”

  Dread welled in Madison’s chest. Not wanting to get involved—yet knowing she already was—Madison had to ask. “Why do you need an alibi?”

  George Gail stood up from her seat and paced the small office, wringing her hands. Madison did not pressure her. A few more tortured paces, and the distraught woman fell back into the chair with a heavy admission. “I can’t remember what happened last night.”

  “Do you remember calling me?”

  “I think so. Yes. Yes, I called you and told you Curtis left the house.”

  “You wanted me to go to the sale barn and see if he was there.”

  “Was he?”

  “No. You called again later, saying he called home. Something about a trailer breaking down. You insisted I go home and go back to bed.”

  George Gail gave her an apologetic look. “I have been disturbing your sleep lately, haven’t I?”

  Madison hated to bring the subject up, but she had five hundred dollars at stake. “Do you remember offering to pay me extra for all the sleep I was losing?”

  After a slight hesitation, she nodded slowly. “I think so. Overtime. Five hundred dollars.”

  “Yes, that’s right. But I didn’t feel right about taking that much money for just driving around the barn a few times, so I decided to drive over to Caress’s house.”

  “Was he- was he there?” The other woman’s chin quivered as she awaited the answer.

  Madison’s heart went out to her. Her voice was kind as she assured the worried older woman, “No, George Gail, he wasn’t.”

  She perked up considerably, until a new thought occurred to her. “Was-Was I there?”

  The image of Trench Coat flashed through Madison’s mind. The image offered the right size, the right shape, but she had difficulty believing this vulnerable woman before her could commit such a vile and vicious crime. George Gail was melodramatic and perhaps a bit scatter-brained, but those were hardly the traits of a murderer. Still, the thought had entered her mind last night. Instead of giving a direct answer, she asked with curiosity, “Why would you ask that?”

  George Gail’s hand trembled as she rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “I-I drank too much wine last night. I don’t remember what happened. I know I called you a couple of times, called Curtis and kept getting his voice mail. I remember thinking I ought to go over there and give Caress a piece of my mind, but I-I remember having trouble getting the door open.”

  Madison frowned. “It sounded like you were outside the last time you called me.”

  “It was the car door I couldn’t open,” George Gail confessed. “And I couldn’t open it because I couldn’t find my keys. I remember going back inside and laying down. The room was spinning. That’s the last thing I remember until the phone rang this morning, when Cleo called to tell me about Caress.”

  “Then why do you think you may have gone to Caress’s last night?”

  “Shh!” She looked over her shoulders with a frantic motion. “Don’t say that so loud!”

  Madison matched her loud whisper with her own. “Why do you think you need an alibi, George Gail, if you were passed out at home all night?”

  She peered back over her shoulder, assuring herself that the door was closed and they were alone. “You’re bound by client confidentiality, right?”

  “I-I don’t know,” Madison said with an uncertain frown. “You are my client, yes, and there’s an implied and explicit trust between us. But it’s not like I’m a doctor or lawyer and legally bound to secrecy.”

  “But you won’t run to the police, will you, with what I’m about to tell you?”

  “Of course not. But please know if they come to me, I’ll have to tell them what I know. And this may be a good time to tell you that I am considered a key witness to Caress’s murder.”

  “You saw her being murdered?” George Gail gasped.

  “Not exactly. I saw her fighting with her attacker, and they fell to the ground. I did not exactly witness the stabbing, thank goodness, but I knew something was wrong when she never got up. I was the one to call 9-1-1.”

  “Then you can be my alibi! If you saw her killer, then you know it wasn’t me!” The relief in her voice was palpable.

  Madison made no comment.

  After a conspicuous moment of silence, George Gail noticed the tiny lines that appeared between Madison’s puckered brows. “Wh-What? It-It wasn’t me, was it?” she squeaked.

  “I don’t know,” Madison told her honestly. “I don’t think so. All I saw was the killer’s back. Do you happen to own a trench coat?”

  “No.” Madison’s relief was short-lived when she added, “But Curtis does. I sometimes borrow his. Why?”

  “Uhm, you might want to check it out when you get home,” Madison suggested.

  “Why?”

  “The killer was wearing a trench coat, which would probably be covered in blood.”

  George Gail made a small choking sound, something between a gasp and a cry. The color drained from her face.

  “What is it? Are you all right?” Madison asked in concern.

  “This-This is con-confidential, right?” She glanced back over her shoulder to ensure there was still no audience.

  Madison agreed with a sigh. “Yes.”

  “Wh-Wh-When I woke up this morning,” she managed to choke out, “there were car keys in my hand and blood on the sheets!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Madison stumbled through the rest of the day, tired and groggy and more than a little out-of-sorts. She did not want to be in the middle of a murder investigation. She did not want to withhold knowledge from the police. She did not want to be torn between Brash and her client. Both ties—this new and tender relationship with the chief of police and her professional obligation to George Gail—were tentative and undefined. Most of all, she did not want George Gail to be guilty.

  Her best tactic, she determined, was to ignore the entire situation in the hopes that it might go away. Impossible, of course, but worth her best try.

  She was in no mood for guests, but when she drove up at home that evening, a familiar white van occupied the driveway. With all the commotion of witnessing Caress’s attack and finding George Gail in her office, she had all but forgotten about Nick Vilardi and Home Again.

  On the plus side, there were only five gawkers gathered round the van today. She noted that fact with forced appreciation as she pushed past them and let herself in the house.

  “Well, there she is now,” Granny Bert said brightly as Madison opened the front door. No doubt, the trio had been talking about her.

  “Hello.” Madison offered a cautious smile to the television star and his producer. Part of her worried what Granny Bert had been telling them, while the other part of her worried how she must look in her over-s
ized sweater and jeans. Why hadn’t she worn something more flattering today? Oh, yes, that’s right; after practically witnessing a murder, she had only slept about fifteen minutes last night. Her wardrobe had been the least of her worries when getting dressed.

  “Madison, how lovely to see you again!” Amanda Hooper beamed at her from behind a half-empty juice glass. “Your grandmother was gracious enough to make us power shakes.”

  Half-empty? They were more than likely still half-full, Madison mused, eying the mostly green concoction with a suspicious eye. She would have offered an apology, but Granny Bert was looking quite proud of herself. Her glass, Madison noted, but empty.

  Nick Vilardi stood from his place on the couch and motioned for Madison to have a seat beside him. “How are you today, Madison?” His eyes skipped over her with a subtle but warm sweep.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” she murmured. Fully aware of the warmth in his gaze, a slight blush stained her cheeks as she settled on the far end of the sofa, nearest the chair her grandmother occupied. She folded her hands into her lap and fiddled with them nervously.

  “We met your children earlier,” Amanda continued. “They are both delightful, and so well mannered. Lovely teenagers.”

  “Thank you.” This time, Madison’s smile was genuine. They were discussing her favorite people, after all. Clearing her throat, she reluctantly addressed a new subject. “I-I want to apologize for leaving so abruptly yesterday.”

  “Don’t think a thing of it!” Amanda gushed. “We know it was a lot for you to process. And apparently we took you by surprise, merely by showing up.” She slid a reproachful eye to Granny Bert, who still beamed happily from her recliner.

  “Definitely,” Madison agreed.

  Nick was eager to get down to business. “I brought over a preliminary first draft of the renovations I’m proposing.” He handed her a sketchpad as he spoke.

  “I-I don’t understand. I told you yesterday that I cannot afford this project.”