Partnerships Can Kill: The Third Charlie Parker Mystery

by Connie Shelton

  Again, the scratching noise. This time it was right in front of me. The hair on my neck tingled. I held the gun a little tighter. Then I heard the whine.

  It was Rusty. I let out my pent-up breath. He was outside on the front porch, scratching to get in. I wanted to go to him and pull open the door, but thought better of it. Running loose in the house, at best he would be an unknown, another sound, another distraction. At worst, he might sniff his way right into Michael's hands. He was safer outside for now.

  Hearing him, though, made me more sure than ever that Michael was somewhere in the house. Rusty would not be so intent on getting in if the intruder were still in the yard.

  Somehow, Michael must have lured the dog outside, then taken Ron by surprise when he went to the kitchen for the water. Upstairs, I hadn't heard a sound. How had he managed it? The kitchen was to my right and behind me, the door almost directly across from the door to the storage closet. Surely Michael knew I was in the house. If he had successfully subdued Ron his next step would be to come after me. Was the silence driving him crazy, too?

  As a jealous husband, the tendency might be to strike out at the wife's lover, then vanish. But Michael wasn't stupid. I knew too much, and he'd have to get rid of me, too. He had gone over the edge now. I remembered how he'd looked in his office only awhile ago. Crazed. He paid the price Michael had said. Paid, past tense. Wait a minute—Michael hadn't been talking about Ron. Michael thought someone else had sent those letters. And the only other person in this whole scenario who had paid a price had been David.

  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."

  Author’s Note

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for following my Charlie Parker mystery series. If you like them, please tell your friends! You can also follow my blog, visit my website, (where you can subscribe to my free mystery newsletter) and follow me on Twitter @mysteries4U

  As of the publication of this e-book, in late 2009, there are eleven books in the Charlie Parker series, with more to come soon. And I will have updates and I hope some surprises in store in the coming months, which I will announce through my newsletter.

  Besides writing my own books, I also teach a writing course, so if you’ve ever had a yearning to write your own stories you
can subscribe to my free fiction writing tips and find out more about my methods at Novel In A Weekend.

  Happy writing and happy reading!!

  With my best wishes,

  Connie Shelton

  What’s Happening Next?

  Small Towns Can Be Murder, the next installment in the Charlie Parker mystery series, finds Charlie and her office assistant, Sally Bertrand, visiting Sally’s hometown of Valle Escondido, New Mexico. An unexplained series of miscarriages among the local women has the recently-pregnant Sally worried. She asks Charlie to look into the death of one of them, and Charlie uncovers deadly secrets, some of them involving the leading citizens of the little town.

  Meanwhile, Drake Langston comes to New Mexico and he is pushing for a commitment from Charlie, but she isn’t at all sure she is ready.

  National Public Radio called it “A good story and a challenging puzzle.”

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