Partnerships Can Be Murder
Page 17
It hit me with almost physical force. The whole picture laid itself out neatly now, and everything made sense. Michael had found the love letters in Vicky's drawer. Instead of confronting her and finding out the truth, he'd gone after the man he believed had sent them. His cousin David.
My head spun and my stomach threatened to lurch. Michael truly was crazy. He'd killed one of the people closest to him in the whole world. I thought of the pictures I'd seen of the two of them together as boys. They had looked enough alike to be brothers. And that was how Michael had gotten away with posing as David when he purchased the gun. Michael had borrowed David's drivers license for awhile. A stranger, looking at a one inch sized picture, could easily be fooled.
Now Michael was after my brother. He'd killed his own cousin, now he would feel no remorse at killing again. There would be Ron, then me. A lump rose in my throat, my lunch. I had to concentrate on getting it to settle down, and think what to do next. I really wished I had been able to reach the police. A female side of me that I don't like very much shows itself at times like this. I wanted to be rescued.
Stop it, Charlie! There is no rescue. You have to handle this yourself.
A sound from the kitchen served as a great adrenaline pump. I couldn't be sure what it was, but it sent macho hormones to my brain instantly. I gripped the gun tighter and tiptoed toward the sound, working on a plan as I went. I avoided the creaky spot at the foot of the stairs, and another about three feet farther on.
The swinging door to the kitchen was closed. Approaching it, I could distinguish other small sounds that I hadn't noticed earlier. A low male voice murmured something. I didn't hear a response. With or without a gun, walking through that swinging door would be a mistake. Obviously, Michael would be armed. He'd see me long before I could assess the situation in there. I needed a distraction.
A small table in the hall held an arrangement of dried flowers. We usually stacked our outgoing mail there. It was easily within my reach. I didn't have much time. Had to plan my moves carefully but quickly. The thought of aiming the gun and killing, even a killer, sickened me. I picked up the glass vase and moved into position at the hinged edge of the swinging door.
The sound exploded in the silent house as the glass shattered against the baseboard. Immediately, the murmurs from the kitchen ceased. I waited, not breathing. The door edged slowly open, the killer facing the hallway, his back to me. I could make out the soft outline of his dark curly hair. The gun was in my hand. I swung the butt down against the back of his skull with all the force I had.
He slumped to the floor in a heap, his gun clattering across the hardwood. I didn't take any chances. I planted my foot in the middle of his back as I pulled off my belt one-handed. It was clumsy work, with my left hand, but I wasn't about to let go of my weapon yet. Only after I dropped to my knees on the small of his back and had both of his limp hands in my control did I set the gun down long enough to cinch the belt tightly around his wrists. Once he was tightly bound, I remembered to breathe again.
Chapter 29
Ron lay sprawled out on the kitchen floor, a white gauze square near his face. Apparently, Michael had planned to drug us and take us somewhere else for the kill. This neighborhood was far too quiet to get away with firing two gunshots. I reached for light switches. He was out, but breathing. I stepped over Michael, and went to the front door to let Rusty in. His neck fur bristled when he saw Michael on the floor. He hovered at attention over the inert form.
"Good boy," I told him. "Stay that way."
He sniffed Michael's face, and growled. A large red welt was rising behind Michael's ear, but I didn't see any blood. I left Rusty on guard while I went across the street to use a neighbor's phone.
I heard sirens just about the time Ron was beginning to rouse. Cold paper towels against his face were starting to work some magic on him. By the time Kent Taylor walked into the building, Ron was sitting up, his back against the cabinets. Michael, too, was awake but groggy. Rusty kept him from moving, though.
Kent's analytical stare took in the broken glass and the two barely conscious men.
"This your work?" he asked, looking at me.
I didn't feel much like conversation.
Two days later I was back at my desk trying to get some paperwork caught up. I had treated myself to a day of sleep, but I'm not one who can lie around too long. Our phones, now repaired, seemed to be making up for lost time. Sally had been busy all morning fielding the calls. The story of Michael's arrest for the murder of his cousin had made the lower section of the front page, and had been featured on two of the three local TV newscasts.
Sharon Ortega and Kent Taylor managed to show up in my office at the same time. I introduced them. After a few congratulatory words, Kent stepped across the hall to look in on Ron.
Sharon handed me an envelope. "I knew you wouldn't write one of these for yourself," she said.
Inside was a check for three more days investigative work.
"Your checking account balance didn't exactly allow for extras," I told her. "Are you sure you can afford this?"
"My insurance check came through." She smiled faintly. "It was a terrible price to pay, though, and if I could go back three weeks in time, I would."
Losing her partner had been tough, I realized. And it might not be over for her yet. I had a feeling that IRS man was going to have some questions for her.
"Wait here a minute," I said. I went into Ron's office and pulled the file I'd stolen from Ben Murray.
"You may be needing this," I said to Sharon as I handed it to her.
She looked puzzled.
"Never mind interpreting it. Just hang on to it for awhile. Consider it another insurance policy. And, in the meantime, get yourself a good accountant."
Thank you for taking the time to read Partnerships Can Be Murder. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated.
Thank you,
Connie Shelton
Books
by Connie Shelton
The Charlie Parker Series
Deadly Gamble
Vacations Can Be Murder
Partnerships Can Be Murder
Small Towns Can Be Murder
Memories Can Be Murder
Honeymoons Can Be Murder
Reunions Can Be Murder
Competition Can Be Murder
Balloons Can Be Murder
Obsessions Can Be Murder
Gossip Can Be Murder
Stardom Can Be Murder
Phantoms Can Be Murder
Buried Secrets Can Be Murder
Legends Can Be Murder
Holidays Can Be Murder - a Christmas novella
The Samantha Sweet Series
Sweet Masterpiece
Sweet’s Sweets
Sweet Holidays
Sweet Hearts
Bitter Sweet
Sweets Galore
Sweets Begorra
Sweet Payback
Sweet Somethings
Sweets Forgotten
The Woodcarver’s Secret
Discover more about Connie’s books at connieshelton.com
Contact by email: connie@connieshelton.com
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Partnerships Can Be Murder
(previously published as Partnerships Can Kill)
Published by Secret Staircase Books, an imprint of
Columbine Publishing Group
PO Box 416, Angel Fire, NM 87710
Copyright © 1997 Connie Shelton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Name
s, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Although the author and publisher have made every effort to ensure the accuracy and completeness of information contained in this book we assume no responsibility for errors, inaccuracies, omissions, or any inconsistency herein. Any slights of people, places or organizations are unintentional.
Book layout and design by Secret Staircase Books
Cover image © C. Shelton
Cover silhouettes © Majivecka
Also published in trade paperback
First trade paperback edition: July, 2010
First e-book edition: July, 2010