“That sounds perfectly normal,” Amanda said.
Petsy took a deep breath and composed herself. “My mother wouldn’t come to the house. She insisted that you were defective.”
“Defective?” Clearly shocked, Amanda yelled the word. “What a horrible thing to say.”
“You can express your outrage all you want, but it’s water under the bridge now. I’m very proud of the woman you’ve become. I really should’ve kept you, I suppose. But the colic. Oh dear God, I couldn’t take it. And my mother was adamant that . . . Well, it was important that she accept my child, and there was no way it was going to happen with the constant whining and crying. And your skin was so awful. You were practically yellow!”
Lindsey sputtered in outrage. “Jaundice is very common in newborns. Everybody knows that.”
“We aren’t everybody,” Petsy said, her arrogance returning with a vengeance. “My mother had very high standards, and I couldn’t blame her. It was an unpleasant situation.”
“Unpleasant?” Lindsey said. “She sounds ghoulish.”
“Ghoulish is too nice a word,” I said. “Your mother sounds as awful as you, Petsy.”
She ignored me and reached her hand out to Amanda, who flicked it away and stepped back a foot.
Petsy tried to regain her composure, such as it was. “I’m pleased to see that you overcame your early shortcomings. It shows you have a strong genetic makeup. I can take some pride in that.”
“Shortcomings?” Amanda cried. “I had colic. Plenty of babies have colic. It lasts a few months, and then it’s over.”
“As I said, it was all very unpleasant,” Petsy said, sniffing defensively.
“And that’s why you sold me?” She shook her head, still in disbelief. “So, you couldn’t take it. You’re a wimp. There’s no way I inherited any strong genetic makeup from you, because you don’t have any. You’re sick. I wasn’t the defective one. You were.”
“You’re learning,” Lindsey said. “Your mother is a selfish pig.”
Petsy continued as if she hadn’t heard a word either of them said. “The sad part is that Lindsey was simply the most beautiful child.” Her lips curved up as she reminisced. “She was blond and blue-eyed, and she smiled all the time. She had rosy cheeks and was so well-behaved and cheerful. Everyone loved her. I wanted her.”
“So you made a deal with Loretta,” I said.
“She would do anything for money,” Petsy grumbled. “And she didn’t want you anyway.”
“You paid her a lot of money,” I said, “to take your colicky baby somewhere far away and give her up for adoption.”
“And you kept Lindsey,” Amanda said in amazement, shaking her head.
“I’m curious,” Lindsey said. “How much was it worth to you?”
“Drop it, Lindsey,” Petsy said, her teeth clenched tightly.
“I want to know, too,” Amanda said. “What was the going rate for baby swapping back in the day?”
Petsy sniffed. “Fine. I gave her a hundred thousand dollars to make you disappear forever.”
“But she didn’t disappear,” I said. “And neither did Loretta. She kept coming back, asking for more money.” And that was what those dollar signs indicated in her appointment book, I thought. Loretta was in Lighthouse Cove to collect her yearly blackmail money. Had she deserved to die for that? I was no longer able to judge. And speaking of dying . . .
“Why did you kill Scully?” I asked.
“Oh, that horrible man. He was angry when I made him leave, so he followed me to Loretta’s hotel the next morning. When he saw her, he just about flipped. But then he saw me and knew I wouldn’t play nice like Loretta always did, so he ran off. I thought he would stay away, but then he showed up again and wanted to talk. He remembered Loretta from years ago, and somehow he knew all about the babies. He was always sniffing around, meddling in everyone else’s affairs. Do you know he actually tried to blackmail me? Idiot. I had to kill him.” She pointed an accusing finger at me. “And don’t you pretend you weren’t happy to see him go.”
“So you lured him to the Derrys’ house,” I said, ignoring her claim. “Why go over there?”
“Because everyone on the street heard Stan Derry yelling at Scully that day. I figured it would be easy enough to pin the murder on him.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. How did you get into the orangery?”
“Joan hides a key under a fake rock by the sprinklers.” She rolled her eyes at that obvious stupidity.
“Where did you get the chisel?”
She snorted. “In case you didn’t notice, Matthew has a thousand of them scattered in that pigsty of a room he calls his studio.”
“He makes a pretty nice living in that pigsty,” Lindsey said in her father’s defense. “Enough to keep you in designer knit suits, anyway. You shouldn’t be criticizing him.”
“Besides, it’s not a pigsty at all,” Amanda said loyally.
Petsy’s chuckle was dry and raspy. “Go ahead and take his side, both of you. He didn’t put up much of a fight when Loretta left with you.”
Amanda frowned. “Did he even know what you did?”
She seemed to consider the question, then shrugged. “Not really. I suppose he could tell the difference between the two babies, but I explained to him that the baby was simply growing out of her ugly infant stage.” She gave a grunt of disgust. “What did he know? He was working long hours at the bank, so he was rarely home.” She sighed. “I wish he still had that job. At least he wore a suit and worked in a place that carried some prestige with it. Now he’s a stupid painter, working out of his home. Always wearing those dirty jeans and shredded denim shirts.” She shivered delicately. “And why does he have to smell like turpentine?”
“Amanda,” Lindsey said, turning her way, “how does it feel to be the daughter of a psychopath?”
Petsy gasped. “Lindsey, shut up. Don’t taunt Amanda.”
“Why should I do anything you say?” Lindsey asked. “Apparently you’re not my mother. But you are definitely psycho.”
Petsy gave her a look of pure hate, but said nothing.
“Who is Lindsey’s father?” I asked. “Is it Matthew?”
Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “I thought it was. He pretended to be so devoted to me, but I saw him looking at Loretta when he didn’t know I was watching.”
“So is he my father?” Lindsey asked, her voice tremulous.
“No,” Petsy grumbled. “Your father died soon after you were born.”
I glanced around the widow’s walk. “Is this where you pushed Ernie off the roof?”
Her eyes grew wide. “Ernie? How do you know about Ernie?”
I hadn’t known she was responsible for Ernie’s death until I saw her face at that moment.
“I know everything,” I said. “And so do the police. Trust me, you’ll be in jail by this afternoon.”
“You’re bluffing.”
I smiled. “Try me.”
Her eyes widened in fear. “Ernie confronted me. He wanted to take Lindsey away from me.”
“Because he was her father,” I said.
“What did that matter?” she said, stomping her foot. “I paid for her fair and square.”
“Oh my God,” Lindsey muttered. “This is a horror show.”
“Ernie was a fool,” Petsy insisted. “Loretta only married him because he got her pregnant. She didn’t love him. He was a chauffeur, for heaven’s sake. She wanted more. The money I gave her was like manna from heaven. She couldn’t wait to get out of town. But Ernie was going to expose the whole thing.”
“So you had to kill him.”
“Whatever. Enough of this.” Petsy raised her gun with two hands and pointed it directly at me. I ducked, and without warning, Amanda made a dive right at her. The bullet missed its target—me—
and hit the far side of the roof. Amanda knocked the gun out of her hand and fell down on top of her. Petsy struggled to push Amanda off, but Amanda held on to the woman as they rolled across the surface. When they hit the fragile railing, I heard the wood crack.
“No!” someone shouted from inside the house. Suddenly Matthew came rushing through the doorway. He grabbed hold of Amanda’s shirt and yanked her away from Petsy. After helping Amanda to her feet, he whirled around and stared wide-eyed at Lindsey. “Are you all right, honey?”
“I’m fine, Dad.” He grabbed her in a fierce hug and she held on for dear life. Over her shoulder he stared at me. “What in the world is going on?”
“She tried to kill us,” Lindsey said, pointing at Petsy.
That was when I realized that Petsy was clinging to the broken rail and was starting to slip. I moved as fast as I could and grabbed her foot, yanking her back to safety.
I wasn’t sure why I’d saved her, but there had already been enough death. And I wanted to make sure she spent some quality time in jail.
As far as I knew, the gun had flown off the roof somewhere, so I felt sure we were relatively safe from stray bullets.
Turning to Matthew, I said, “Your wife planned to kill all three of us.”
He shook his head slowly. “That can’t be true.”
“It’s true, Dad,” Lindsey said, still clutching Matthew’s arm. “She told us that she’s really Amanda’s mother and not mine.”
“Lindsey’s real mother is Loretta Samson,” I said. “Petsy killed her and Joe Scully, too. I guess we became loose ends and she decided we had to die, too. She said she was going to make it look like a home invasion where the three of us were murdered by burglars.” I glared at Petsy. “Do I have the story straight?”
She ignored me and stared off at the horizon. I had no idea what was going through her mind, and in that moment, I really didn’t care.
“I’m sorry,” Matthew said. “I’m having a hard time following this. Petsy said she’s Amanda’s mother?”
“Yes,” Lindsey said. “And . . . and this woman Loretta is my mother.”
She let go of Matthew’s arm and took a step back. She tried to smile but the tears were starting to fall. “So I guess you’re not my father after all.”
“Don’t you ever say that again,” Matthew said gently, pulling her back and giving her a hug. “I will always be your father.”
“But . . .” Lindsey wiped the tears off her cheeks. “I think you’re actually Amanda’s father.”
“What?” He gazed from Lindsey to Amanda and back again. He looked down at Petsy, frowning. “Petsy, is this true?”
She didn’t speak right away, so I jumped in. “I think that’s a yes.”
He stared at Amanda for a brief moment, and then he held out his arm for her to come closer.
Amanda was suddenly shy, and her steps were tentative. Matthew grinned and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Two daughters. I guess that makes me the luckiest man in the world.”
We were all sniffling back tears until I finally managed to speak. “I think I’d better go call the police.”
“Too late,” Amanda said, looking delighted as she pointed toward the ground below.
I turned and almost cheered when I saw Mac and Tommy standing on the side of the yard near the orangery, staring up at the action on the roof. I waved at them to let them know we were okay. I had a feeling Eric was nearby, too, and wondered if he was on his way up to the widow’s walk.
I took a quick look at Petsy, who hadn’t moved from the spot where I’d pulled her away from the edge. I still didn’t trust her, and I hoped that Eric would get up here soon.
I grabbed Amanda and hugged her. “Thank you for saving our lives.”
“Yes,” Lindsey said, “thank you. You’re okay, despite your horrible mother.”
Amanda looked completely wiped out as she turned to Lindsey. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through.”
Lindsey’s eyes suddenly widened. “What am I saying? It sounds like my real mother was just as evil as this one.”
I grimaced. “I thought she was nice when I met her, but considering what you’ve both been through, I’m afraid you’re probably right.”
Lindsey glared down at Petsy for a moment, then said, “No, Loretta was even worse. At least Amanda was raised by nice people, but I ended up with Petsy. And that’s Loretta’s fault.” Her eyes began to tear up. “I didn’t even know the woman, and it’s probably wrong of me, but I’m not sorry she’s dead.”
Amanda weaved her arm through Lindsey’s. “Looks like we’ve got more in common than I thought.”
“You’re right.” Lindsey smiled sadly. “Neither of us hit the mother jackpot, but I sort of feel like I’ve gained a sister.”
Amanda sniffed back tears. “I couldn’t be happier about that.”
I had to admit I was sniffling again, too.
“We should go downstairs,” Matthew said, then turned and looked at his wife, who hadn’t tried to move from the dangerous edge of the widow’s walk. “Petsy, can I help you up?”
“Stay away from me.”
“We can work this out, dear. I’ll call my lawyer.”
“Um, Dad? I mean, Matthew?” Lindsey gulped. “Apparently she killed my father, too. Someone named Ernie.”
He blinked. “What? No. Ernie fell off the roof. It was an accident.”
“I’m sorry, Matthew,” I said. “Petsy already confessed to pushing him off the roof.”
Breathing slowly, he gazed at his wife as though he’d never seen her before. He looked back at me and his eyes grew sharper. He seemed to be waking up. He turned to Lindsey. “Ernie—your birth father—was thrilled when he found out he and Loretta were going to have a baby.”
“At least someone was happy,” she muttered.
“He was a good man, Lindsey. He worked for us for many years and died tragically. I’m sorry.”
He grabbed his daughter in another hug. Amanda was sniffling and I felt tears springing to my eyes.
“Shannon,” Mac shouted from the backyard three stories below us, interrupting the moment, thank goodness. “Everything okay?”
I gazed down at him, gave him a thumbs-up, and shouted back, “We might need some help up here.”
“Eric’s on his way up.”
I gave him another thumbs-up and turned to Matthew, Lindsey, and Amanda.
“If you all want to go downstairs, I’ll wait here for Eric to come up and get Petsy.”
I turned and watched the woman trying to stand up.
“Better watch her,” Lindsey warned.
Amanda nodded briskly. “We’ll stay with you.”
Petsy was still clinging to the cracked wood railing.
“You need to get away from the edge,” I said, and moved to help her.
“Stay back,” Petsy said, and stared directly at me, giving me the strangest look. “Finish my house. I want to win.”
“Honestly, Mother,” Lindsey said, then waved the word away. “I mean, whoever you are. Forget about the contest. You’re going to jail.”
But Petsy kept gazing at me. “I mean it. I want to win.”
“All right.” I nodded slowly, trying to placate her. “I’ll do what I can for the house.”
“Good. I deserve to win.”
“Oh,” I assured her solemnly, “you deserve a lot more than that.” She had definitely gone off the deep end, but I supposed that was what happened when you had carried around a dark, evil secret for most of your life.
Lindsey and Amanda stared at each other and shook their heads, mystified by Petsy’s request. I gave them a puzzled look, then glanced back in time to catch an unholy gleam appear in Petsy’s eyes.
“Watch out!” I shouted. “Grab her!”
But it was
too late. Petsy let go of the broken railing and threw herself over the edge, falling to the ground below.
“Petsy!” Matthew shouted.
“Mother!” Lindsey screamed, forgetting that Petsy had never been her mother.
Amanda screamed, “No!”
Down on the ground, the police and Mac were shouting as well, as they scrambled to get equipment and men to help.
We all exchanged looks of dread. I gritted my teeth and leaned over the railing to see where she had fallen. It was only three stories, I thought. She could survive it.
Lindsey gasped for air. Matthew grabbed both girls and held them tightly. He didn’t look down.
“Oh my God,” I whispered as I stared at the sight. I couldn’t stand it, and I had to turn away, too.
Amanda began to sob.
“I’m so sorry,” Lindsey whispered, as though we might’ve blamed her for the woman’s ugly, twisted behavior. Amanda grabbed hold of Lindsey’s arm and held her close.
I sighed and stared out at the sweeping coast. The lighthouse stood sentinel in the distance. The choppy ocean waves caught the sun and sparkled like jewels.
After a few steadying breaths, I glanced down again. She hadn’t made it to the ground. The beautiful new orangery had broken Petsy’s fall. Her body was splayed on top of the glass roof, where the row of fleur-de-lis embellishments jutted up like spears along the main frame. The sturdy steel flourishes acted as spikes, piercing her body along her spine. Petsy Jorgensen was dead.
Chapter Thirteen
Mac and I hung on to each other as we sat on the tailgate of my truck, watching the police and EMTs do their jobs. Neighbors gathered in clusters on one another’s lawns, whispering among themselves and barely concealing their lurid excitement that something newsworthy had occurred on their quiet little cul-de-sac. To be fair to them, Petsy hadn’t exactly made a lot of friends among them. She’d managed to offend just about everyone in town at one point or another, so the neighbors weren’t really heartbroken by her death.
I had spent a few minutes commiserating with Joan and Stan Derry, who were observing the activities from the relative safety of their lovely front porch. They gave me a dozen quick examples of Petsy’s hostile behavior over the years, and I shared with them exactly what had happened up on the roof. I figured I owed them a little prurient insider information after continuously suspecting them of murder for the last few days. I didn’t mention that part out loud, though.
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