He eyed her coolly. “Somehow Eddie was slipped something last night that knocked him out so completely he’s still not fully recovered. It had to be administered somehow.”
“Well, I have no idea how it was done,” she said hotly.
“That’s okay, it’s my job to figure that out,” said Bailey. “The drugs you bought from Kyle: do you have any of them here?”
“I… I’m not sure. I can look.”
“No. I tell you what I’m going to do: I’m going to have your home searched. Do you have a problem with that?”
Dorothea rose on unsteady legs. “I think I should speak to my attorney first.”
Bailey stood too. “Fine, you do that. Meantime I’ll get a search warrant issued. I’m posting one of my agents outside the house just in case something important decides to walk out. And we can check drains, and you’re on septic here, so any evidence that happens to get flushed we can find.”
“Your insinuations are ridiculous,” she cried. “I didn’t kill Sally or drug my husband.”
“Too bad for you we don’t have a final cause of death on Kyle Montgomery. If we did, you might be in jail right now. That would’ve been a nice alibi for you.”
Bailey walked out while Dorothea looked at King pitifully. “Sean, what is going on?” He dashed forward and caught her before she hit the floor. He eased her onto the couch.
He turned to Michelle. “Get me some water.”
Michelle rushed off and King looked back at Dorothea. She gripped his arm.
“God, I feel so bad. My head is splitting and my stomach’s doing flip-flops.”
“I’m going to have Mason come and look after you.”
She clenched his arm even more tightly. “I didn’t do anything, Sean. You have to believe that.”
Michelle came back in with the water, and Dorothea drank it down.
“You do believe me, don’t you?” she said pleadingly.
“Let me put it this way: I believe you as much as I believe anyone right now.”
As King, Michelle and Williams left, they spotted Bailey talking to one of his men and pointing at the house. They walked over to him.
“You sure didn’t cut Dorothea any slack, Chip,” said Williams.
“I wasn’t aware she deserved any,” shot back the FBI agent.
“It’s been a pretty traumatic morning for her, actually the last few days.”
“If all of it’s her own doing, why should I feel sorry for the woman?”
“You think she drugged her husband, then slipped out and killed Sally?” asked King.
“I think it’s entirely possible she drugged Eddie and that someone else killed Sally while Eddie was unconscious. The stables are close enough to the carriage house that if there was a fight or Sally was able to scream, Eddie might have heard and come to her rescue. With him drugged that couldn’t happen.”
“And whom do you think Dorothea was partnered with in all this?”
“If I knew that, we could probably all go home.”
“And the motive for killing Sally?”
“She knew more than she told anyone, including you. She said she was Junior’s alibi. Well, we only have her word for that, because she only came forward after Junior was dead. He can’t corroborate it. Now, suppose she wasn’t with him the night of the burglary? Suppose she was helping someone break in the mansion or doing it herself?”
“If so, why would she come forward with the story about being with Junior?” asked Williams.
King answered, “Because that gives her an alibi for the burglary.”
“Exactly,” said Bailey, glaring triumphantly at Williams.
“That’s actually not a bad theory, Chip,” said King.
“Thanks. I have my moments.” He climbed in his car and drove off.
CHAPTER
73
EDDIE FINALLY STARTED
to come to around three o’clock that afternoon.
Williams, Bailey, King and Michelle had gathered in his hospital room. He looked up at them from his bed, all pale, twitchy and disheveled. Remmy sat next to her son, holding his hand in a firm grip and rubbing his forehead with a wet cloth. “God, Eddie, don’t you scare me like that again.”
“It wasn’t exactly my idea,” he said in a very tired voice.
“What do you remember about last night?” asked King.
“Dorothea and I had dinner, where we talked about, you know, recent events. I’d been at the lawyer’s for a while before that.”
“Why didn’t she go with you to see the attorney?” asked Michelle sharply.
“I wanted her to but she didn’t want to go. As crazy as it sounds, I think she believes if she ignores all of this, it’ll go away. Anyway, after dinner I went to my studio, to clear my head of all this stuff.” He glanced sideways at Michelle before continuing. “Around midnight or so I came in and went upstairs to bed. Dorothea was still awake. She was actually very awake, if you know what I mean,” he added, obviously embarrassed.
Remmy snorted. “Unbelievable to me under the circumstances, but I gave up trying to understand your wife years ago.”
“It was as much me as her, okay?” he said harshly to his mother. His gaze, however, remained on Michelle. “I guess it was sort of a circle-the-wagon mentality. But I admit the timing was strange.”
“What happened after that?” prompted King.
“I went to sleep. I mean, I guess I really went to sleep. The next thing I know I wake up and I’m in the hospital. What the hell was it?”
“The docs said morphine sulfate, also known as MS Contin,” answered Williams. “Guaranteed to knock you out for eight, nine hours or longer.”
“But why?” asked Eddie. “What was accomplished by that?”
King looked at Williams. “You haven’t told him?”
“Told me what?” demanded Eddie.
Williams looked down at him. “Sally Wainwright was murdered around five-thirty this morning.”
Eddie sat up so fast he almost pulled out his IV line. “What!” he yelled. “Sally?”
“Eddie!” cried out his mother as she pushed him back down. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Eddie suddenly got a wild look and shot up again. “My God! Dorothea! Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” said Williams quickly. “Absolutely fine.”
“For now,” muttered Bailey.
Eddie sank back down but clutched his mother’s arm. “Somebody killed Sally in her sleep?”
King said, “No, she was killed in the stable.”
“But why Sally?” Eddie demanded.
Williams looked at King, who said, “She’d come forward with important information that ruled out Junior’s having committed the burglary at your mother’s home.”
Now Remmy looked surprised. “I’d already figured he hadn’t done it, but how could Sally possibly have proof of that?”
“She did, and we’re going to leave it at that for now,” said Williams.
“Did what she tell you implicate someone else?” asked Eddie.
“No,” admitted King.
“Then why kill her?”
“I don’t have the answer to that. I don’t have the answer to a lot of things.”
Bailey spoke up. “But what we do know, Eddie, is that you were drugged last night, and while you were out, someone killed Sally. Someone who knew her routine and that she’d be in the stables at that hour of the morning.”
Everyone remained silent for an uncomfortably long moment until Eddie exclaimed, “Are you suggesting that my wife—”
Bailey broke in. “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just stating a plain fact. But Dorothea has come under suspicion.”
Eddie shook his head. “She’s a respected businesswoman.”
“With a drug problem, and possibly a murder suspect,” pointed out Remmy in a sharp tone.
“Shut up, Mother!” yelled Eddie.
This caught all of them off guard. Remmy slowly let go
of her son’s hand.
Eddie pointed his finger accusingly at Bailey. “If you think for one minute that Dorothea drugged me and then killed Sally, you’re wasting everyone’s time while the real killer is getting away.”
“It’s our duty to investigate all possible leads,” said Bailey calmly.
“Including ludicrous ones?”
“You better get some rest, Eddie,” said King gently. “You’ve had a hard night.”
“Fine, I’d really like to be alone right now anyway.”
Eddie looked away from them all, his forearm over his face.
Remmy rose and headed to the door. “I’ll come and check on you later, son.”
“Whatever,” he answered curtly.
Remmy went to the door, then turned to Williams. “You know, it seems to me that we’re no further along than we were on day one. A lot of people killed and no progress.” She shot Bailey a vicious look. “And that includes the illustrious FBI. Makes me wonder what the hell I pay taxes for.” She left the room.
The men followed her out.
Michelle paused at the door and glanced back at Eddie. He still lay there, his face covered. She quietly left.
CHAPTER
74
TWO DAYS PASSED WITH NO
sign of Roger Canney despite Chip Bailey and Chief Williams having put in place an area lockdown.
“It’s like he popped into a damn hole somewhere,” complained the frustrated FBI agent at one meeting of the investigative team.
With eight murders in total now and the attempted killings of King and Michelle, Wrightsburg was overflowing with law enforcement folks fighting over turf, evidence and the proper way to satiate the horde of media that had invaded the town. Hardly a citizen had not been interviewed by a reporter from some organization. One could not watch the national news or read the Washington Post, New York Times, or USA Today without seeing a story about the Wrightsburg slayings. Pundit after pundit proposed one solution after another, most having nothing to do with the actual facts of the case. People were putting their homes on the market at an alarming clip, business was down across the board; it didn’t seem too far-fetched to think the town might cease to exist if the killer or killers weren’t soon found. Business and political leaders were, not surprisingly, calling for Chief Williams’s head, along with his top—if recently appointed—deputies, King and Maxwell. Bailey too was feeling the heat from his superiors, but he went about his business, methodically running down any lead that looked promising, though most petered out.
Eddie was released from the hospital about the time Sylvia completed the autopsy on Sally; not that the cause of her death had ever been in doubt. No new leads had materialized, but at least no one else had died either.
In the midst of all this chaos and scrutiny, when it seemed like the entire town would implode any second, Sean King pulled out two bottles from his portable wine cooler and went to dinner with Michelle at Harry Carrick’s home.
As she exited her cottage and climbed into the Lexus convertible, King’s eyes had widened at the sight of her. “You look beautiful, Michelle,” he said, scrutinizing the clingy dress that stopped about midthigh and showed off a healthy dose of her Olympian legs. She also sported a stylish blue wrap around her shoulders; she was no longer wearing the sling. She wore makeup, and it appeared she’d even washed her hair, and hardly any of it was dangling in her face. It was a stunning contrast to her usual jeans, windbreakers, sneakers and running suits and flyaway tresses.
For his part King was dressed in a suit and tie and even had a handkerchief in his coat’s breast pocket.
“I wanted to make a nice impression on Harry,” she said hastily. “But my, I didn’t expect such accolades from you.”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“I found the breakfast and lunch I made you in the trash can again. If you don’t like my cooking, just say so. It’s not like it would hurt my feelings.”
In his best Bogart imitation King said, “Aw, angel, you shouldn’t waste time in the kitchen. Not your style, angel.”
She smiled and said, “Thank God for small favors.”
“But with that said, the tuna dish you made the other night was really good.”
“High praise coming from you.”
“I tell you what: the next meal we’ll make together. I’ve got a few tricks I can show you.”
“Okay, that’s a deal.”
“How’s the arm?”
“Like I said, just a scratch.”
As they drove with the top down along the winding country roads on a warm, fine evening covered by a vast sky of stars, Michelle glanced at him admiringly and observed, “You look pretty spiffy yourself.”
“Like Eddie Battle, I can clean up well on occasion.” He smiled to show he was joking.
“Are we the only guests?”
“Yes, since I was the one who suggested we get together.”
“You? Why?”
“It’s time we sat down and talked this case through, and I do my best thinking over a good bottle of wine or two.”
“Are you sure you just didn’t want to escape another meal at my house?”
“Thought never occurred to me.”
Harry’s house was large and old and its interior beautifully decorated.
He met them at the door and led them into the library, where, despite the warmth of the evening, a cozy fire was burning. The old lawyer was wearing a snappy three-piece suit with stylishly muted checks. A carnation was pinned to his jacket lapel. He poured them drinks, and they sat on a soft, cracked leather sofa in front of the fire. The couch looked as though it had carried the posteriors of at least five generations.
He raised his glass. “A toast to my two good friends.” They drank to that, and then Harry added after eyeing Michelle, “And really, I believe another toast is in order.” He lifted his glass once more. “To one of the most lovely women I’ve ever encountered. Michelle, you look extraordinarily beautiful tonight.”
Michelle smiled and glanced at King. “Now, if I could only cook.”
King started to say something but seemed to think better of it and hastily took a sip of his cocktail.
“What an incredibly interesting place,” said Michelle as she looked around at the built-in, worm-eaten wooden shelves stuffed with what looked to be ancient tomes.
Harry’s gaze followed hers around the library. “Of course it’s haunted, as it should be for a place that saw the light of the eighteenth century.”
“Haunted?” said Michelle.
“Oh, yes. I’ve seen numerous apparitions over the years. Several I consider to be regulars. Since my return here, I’ve felt a real duty to get to know them, considering I’ll be joining them in the not-all-too-distant future.”
“You’ve got a long time left, Harry,” commented King.
“What would we do without you?” said Michelle, tapping her whiskey glass against Harry’s tumbler of bourbon.
“Even before the other branch of the Lee family was building its fortress at Stratford Hall, my line was laying the brick and mortar for this.” Harry checked his pocket watch. “Calpurnia serves promptly at seven-thirty. That gives us a little time to talk before the meal, although I’m sure I can guess our dinner topic.”
“Calpurnia?” asked Michelle.
“Calpurnia is my cook and housekeeper; a delightful lady who’s been
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