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Dead Head: A Dirty Business Mystery

Page 22

by Rosemary Harris


  “Don’t do this,” I said. “There’s nothing in this house except a couple of kids. They don’t know anything. And Caroline didn’t steal your money. Kate probably did. She probably hid it somewhere before she died and it’s never been found. C’mon, you used to be a coach—you must love kids.”

  “I hate kids. I only took that job so I could ogle young girls in short skirts. Then one of them fell off the human pyramid and broke my nose. Kicked out my last few good teeth, too. Dumb broad.”

  Oh, brother—that was a tactical error. Overhead we heard footsteps and scuffling. Hopper called out again, but this time I did, too. And louder.

  “Springfield police! Open up, Springfield police!” I wasn’t even sure we were still in Springfield, but it had terrified Grant and me when we were in the nursery, so it was worth a try.

  “Shut up, bitch!” He screamed at me and slammed me against the counter and his dentures slipped. He yelled again. “Eddie, it’s me!” but it was so garbled, I wasn’t surprised Donnelley didn’t understand and respond.

  “Eddie Donnelley, Springfield police! Come out with your hands up! We know you’re in there!” I hit the panic button on my car keys and the car alarm went off, giving a passing imitation of a police siren. Hopper pushed me away from the door to bang on it again with his right elbow. For a few seconds the barrel of the gun was pointed up. I picked up the gray metal box and slammed it in his face. Rocks spilled out of the box. Hopper’s nose was spouting blood, broken again, and he was choking on bits of his smashed dentures. The gun fell out of his hands and I was able to kick it away underneath one of the cars. I climbed into my Jeep, locked the door, and pressed the button to raise the garage door. As I did I saw a crew from Channel Eight news and an oh-so-beautiful Springfield police car.

  Forty-four

  The Sturgis kids were unharmed and Jason was declared a hero for pushing his sister out of the way when he cracked Edwina on the head with his spare hockey stick.

  When the dust finally settled, Edwina Donnelley blamed Coach Kevin Hopper—also known as Kevin Brookfield—for everything. Donnelley had kept quiet for years, thinking Hopper was reinvesting his ill-gotten gains. Hopper didn’t have a clue where the money was, but wisely kept his mouth shut so Eddie would do the same and not incriminate him. Once Eddie got out, they looked for the money together and the chance encounter between Caroline and Jeff Warren at the Paradise Diner led them to Springfield. They after paid Chase McGinley, a stock clerk Hopper had met in Ohio while hawking compression shorts and athletic supporters, to do a little reconnaissance. Always an underachiever, McGinley had heard Caroline had been seen at the diner and assumed the woman he’d been sent to find was Babe. That’s how Kevin Hopper wound up camping out at the Paradise until the Main Street Moms obligingly mentioned their friend Caroline, who was considering buying a nursery.

  Donnelley was charged with kidnapping the Sturgis kids and assaulting me in the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot. The panty hose were the same ones he was wearing when he went to see Nina Mazzo and hired her to deliver Caroline’s pendant.

  Kevin Hopper was charged with attempted murder and was also being questioned in the deaths of Kate Gustafson and Chase McGinley. When the body of Kate Gustafson was exhumed, it was learned that the deceased was actually a part-time waitress named Rosanne Lewis. Gustafson’s body was never found.

  Lucy Cavanaugh’s freelance article “I Was a Fugitive” got bumped to the back of the newspaper when a baby whale got stuck in the Long Island Sound. To Babe’s surprise, but not mine, she was consoled by Mike O’Malley. They had their first date last week, but Lucy hasn’t shared details. Yet.

  Under the tutelage of Hank Mossdale I have decided to take horseback riding lessons. He is working on my seat. Impressed with my skills as an investigator, Nina Mazzo has offered to sponsor me for my private investigator’s license. I am considering it from a hammock on a beautiful beach in Jost Van Dyke.

  And Caroline Sturgis, née Monica Weithorn, was cleared of all charges, past and present. On the day she was exonerated, she got a congratulatory text message simply signed with the letter “K.”

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

 

 

 


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