Dickens of a Death
Page 12
Chapter Eighteen
“Ginger and I cooked all day for you and Matt. The least you can do, Dirk, is share more details about Nathan Anderson, Madeline Rose, and Richard Shorter.”
“Did he confess? Do you know who killed Shorter?”
Matt and Dirk exchanged a long look. Matt cleared his throat. “Nathan’s not copping to the murder charge. Says he didn’t know about Shorter’s heart condition. Some of the other evidence doesn’t match up to Anderson.”
“So who, then?” I sipped my wine. “Madeline Rose?”
Ginger passed a plate of appetizers to Matt. “That makes more sense. She had Shorter’s schedule and knew how to use holiday plants to poison him. Have you figured out a motive?”
“Yeah,” I added, “she really looked upset after his body was found. Lost.”
Dirk popped an appetizer in his mouth.
“Should I tell them?” Matt asked. “Everyone will know tomorrow, anyway.”
“What,” I said. “You’d better talk.”
Dirk swallowed. “Your idea that Shorter had cheated Madeline was correct.”
I stopped myself from preening and avoided Ginger’s eyes.
“He sold her a repro as genuine,” Dirk said. “The argument she overheard between Shorter and Patricia made her think. An independent appraisal cemented the fraud.”
“She admitted this?” Ginger’s question reflected my surprise.
“No,” Matt said, “but we found the appraiser who did the work. Same person your mother used, as a matter of fact.”
Dirk added another appetizer to his plate. “We know Shorter had more than one love interest and suspect she discovered his other bed partners.”
“Poor woman,” Ginger murmured.
I raised my eyebrows.
“Well, she is,” she said. “Maybe she didn’t mean to kill her lover, only make him sick. You know, to prove a point.”
Matt reached for his glass of beer. “Poisoning a man then hitting him over the head while he teetered on a top step isn’t just proving a point.” He glanced at Dirk, his expression sheepish. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to say that.”
“What.” I faced Dirk. “Madeline was the one who bopped Shorter over the head?”
He shrugged. “We think she worried he’d survive the poison. Witnesses placed her in the vicinity and during the correct time period.”
“We think she followed him on his route,” Matt added. “Shouldn’t be hard to get confirmation. An empty bottle of the same vitamin capsules he used was in her trashcan. We’re checking her mortar and pestle.”
I shook my head. The woman was as much a control freak as Little Dick. They’d deserved each other, I guessed.
“I suppose Madeline figured pinning the murder on my mother looked like an easy out.”
Matt nodded. “We knew your family well enough to recognize murder, not even a poisoning meant to make someone sick, would ever be an option you or your mother would use. We began looking in other directions right away.”
“But how did Nathan Anderson get hooked into this mess?” Ginger tapped her forefinger against her wine glass. “And why?”
“He’s Madeline Rose’s nephew, not the mayor’s, but Anderson was treated like a son by the Rose couple. Spent plenty of time with them. Had the run of the house.”
“Well, that explains the nepotism,” I said.
“It’s more than that. Anderson did well on all the tests. He made it through the Academy. Never made honors, but he didn’t land at the bottom, either. Favoritism didn’t come in until he made detective when there were other more qualified candidates.”
“So did he limit himself to the heavy work? Tampering with Katie’s car? Running us off the road? Or did he help his aunt murder Shorter?”
Ginger had asked several excellent questions.
“He saw his aunt leaving Shorter’s store a month or so ago,” Dirk said. “She looked unhappy but wouldn’t confide in him. Anderson followed her when he could and assumed—rightly—that she was having an affair. He believed that fact would hurt his uncle, so he decided to warn off Shorter.”
“He says he never had a chance to speak with the man,” Matt added.
“Did he cop to cutting my brake line?”
“No, but we’re not pursuing that questioning at this time.” Dirk raised his hand. “Sorry, Katie, but it’s a lesser charge that’ll be hard to prove. We have him on attempted murder. Multiple counts. He’ll do hard time. Harder because he’s a police officer.”
“Wow. I’d never have figured him for a bad guy,” I said. “He was cocky, yeah, but young guys are like that, anyway.”
Ginger passed the appetizers to Dirk. “You suspected Anderson early on, didn’t you?”
Dirk nodded and helped himself to the food. “He was obviously the mayor’s plant, but he pushed his theories. Picking up Patricia in a squad car. Overkill.”
“That idea could have come from his aunt.” I sipped my wine. “That’s why you said you’d have cracked the case faster if he weren’t assigned to you.”
Dirk nodded. “We had to do double work and keep our real case notes secret.”
I regretted not trusting Dirk, but at the time, his defection seemed real. He’d been at my side when I most needed him, though.
We sat quietly for a few moments.
“Well, we were way off on one person. Jansen Buchanan wasn’t involved with the murder as we thought. I’d have sworn he was friends with Madeline.”
“He’s not in the clear.” Matt leaned back in his chair. “We turned over the information you gathered on him to the feds. His law firm and personal finances will be audited by the IRS.”
“Yes, and his law dealings will get a thorough review by a governmental agency. Likely the State Law Board, too. I don’t see him living the high life for a while.”
Dirk sipped his drink. “Any more questions or can we put this discussion to rest?”
“The remainder will come out in court, right?”
They both shrugged.
“Could be,” Dirk said.
“Maybe not,” Matt replied. “Both Anderson and Rose may decide to cop a plea and waive a trial.”
“I wonder if Stephen will resign,” Ginger asked. “Don’t see how he can continue in office with two family members awaiting trial. I wonder how he’s dealing with the news?”
“Someone else’s problem, not ours. Besides, everyone knows she was the boss in that marriage.”
I picked up my wine glass. “Let’s toast to the two best damn police detectives in the state.”
We clinked glasses and drank.
Ginger cleared her throat. “Thanks for the update, but enough of this depressing conversation. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. A time to celebrate.”
She stood. “The roast prime rib has been resting. I could use a little help with the madeira sauce.”
Matt rose. “I’m on it. I’ve been cleared for kitchen duty by my mother and sisters.”
“Why don’t you two move over to the stools at the cook top?” Ginger said to Dirk and me. “You can tell everyone our news, Katie.”
Crap. She would leave me with the dirty job. I put on a big smile.
“Guess what?”
Dirk’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t I want to hear what comes next?”
“Oh, don’t be a kill joy. This is a great announcement.”
“If you say so.”
I stuck out my tongue at him. He licked his lips in reply. Smart ass.
“Patricia has been appointed next year’s Dickens Days Event Coordinator.”
Dirk held his head in his hands. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. The best part is, Ginger and I get to choose assignments.”
He looked at the ceiling. “Please tell me you begged off.”
“Nope.” I clapped my hands together once. “I’ve got the plum job.”
“Staying home watching holiday movies?”
I frowned at his hopeful tone of vo
ice. “No. I hate those sugary films, you know that.” I shook my head. “I thought about the security detail, you know, so we could be together.”
He shuddered but wisely remained silent.
“Instead, I’ll have the best assignment of all.”
His shoulders hunched. “I’m almost afraid to ask.” His eyes shifted. “What did you choose?”
“Skiing the slopes of West Virginia with a sexy man. Interested?”
A grin eclipsed his face. “I’ll put in my vacation request next week.”
Yep, Christmas really is a season of miracles. The look in Dirk’s eyes proved the adage.
A word about the author...
Ashantay Peters loves escaping into a well-written book. She lives in the mountains of western North Carolina, a happy transplant from the much colder (and flatter) Midwest.
She loves to hear from readers, so please contact her via www.ashantay.com
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Other Ashantay Peters titles
available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
DEATH STRETCH
DEATH UNDER THE MISTLETOE
DEATH RUB
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