Shelved Under Murder

by Victoria Gilbert

  “Fair enough, but let’s not make a habit of this, okay?”

  “I’ll try not to,” he replied, capturing my fingers with his right hand and giving them a squeeze.

  Mel whimpered before some garbled words escaped her lips.

  Aunt Lydia brushed Mel’s forehead with her fingers. “Don’t try to speak. Help is on the way.”

  But Mel continued to mutter agitatedly. The only word I could make out was Lydia.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” My aunt cast me a pleading glance. “Amy, could you leave Richard for a moment? She’s desperate to tell me something. I can’t figure it out, and I’m afraid she won’t rest until I do.”

  Richard released his hold on my hand. “Go on. I’ll be okay.”

  I pulled back my arm and rose to my feet, but only after pressing a swift kiss against his lips. “All right, what do you want me to do?” I asked my aunt as I moved close to Mel.

  Aunt Lydia shifted until she was seated instead of kneeling. She rubbed her bad leg as she met my concerned gaze. “See if you can understand what she’s trying to say. Maybe between the two of us we can figure it out.”

  “Lydia,” Mel muttered.

  “Yes, she’s here,” I said, sitting down. “What is it you want to tell her?”

  “Sorry, so sorry.”

  I slipped my fingers around Mel’s hand as her damaged arm twitched. “For Andrew?”

  A little sob escaped Aunt Lydia’s lips but she said nothing.

  “Yes. Never should have involved him. But he had the skills…” Mel’s face convulsed with pain.

  “It’s all right, it’s all right.” Aunt Lydia gently took hold of Mel’s other hand. “It was his choice, in the end.”

  “Never should have. Not that night. Not in that storm. But they threatened me. Said they’d kill my husband, or Trey.” Mel’s golden lashes fluttered against her paper-white skin. “Oh, Trey,” she whispered.

  Her voice was as broken as her body. I looked over at Aunt Lydia and spied tears trickling from her clouded blue eyes.

  My cheeks were damp as well. I rubbed away the tears with my free hand and refocused on Mel’s face. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

  “Too dangerous,” she murmured. “I knew it was. And then the painting was destroyed anyway.” Her fingers tightened on mine. “The Quinns almost killed me over that, but I convinced them it was too risky. Diplomat’s wife and all.”

  “That man watching you at the festival,” I said, ignoring my aunt’s exclamation of surprise. “He was employed by the Quinns?”

  As Mel coughed, a bubble of blood rose at her lips. “Yes. Always watching me. Always.”

  I lifted my eyes and met Aunt Lydia’s pitying gaze.

  “Don’t think of that now.” My aunt pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped the blood from Mel’s lips. “Listen—there are the sirens. The ambulance will be here soon. They’ll help you.”

  “Too late,” Mel muttered. “Too late.”

  But whether she meant for her or Andrew or Trey, I didn’t know.

  Two ambulances and several sheriff’s department vehicles roared into the parking circle, spewing dirt and gravel. EMTs leapt out and reached Mel’s side before I spied Brad Tucker striding toward us.

  Aunt Lydia and I stood and backed away to allow the first responders to care for Mel.

  “Where’s Trey Riley?” Brad asked.

  “In the woods, we think. Kurt Kendrick went after him,” Richard said.

  Brad swore under his breath, but when he spoke his voice was calm. “Woods,” he told the men and women clustered behind him. “Check the entire perimeter. Trey Riley is our suspect. Tall, brown-haired. Don’t shoot the older, white-haired man, whatever you do.”

  I walked back to Richard. “He needs help too. Bullet grazed his arm.”

  Brad shoved his hat away from his forehead as he surveyed Richard. “God, can’t you people stay out of trouble?’ He motioned for one of the EMTs. “Apparently we have another patient.”

  Richard waved his good arm. “No, I’m okay. Stay with Mrs. Riley.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said, as one of the medics approached Richard. “Gunshot graze and a hero complex,” I told them while Richard made disparaging noises.

  I moved aside to allow the EMT to work on Richard, who kept repeating that his wound was minor and they really should be focused on Mrs. Riley. Which the medic wisely ignored.

  The other EMTs had Mel on a backboard and stretcher faster than I would’ve thought possible. As they wheeled her toward the ambulance, Aunt Lydia surprised me by asking to accompany Mel.

  “She doesn’t have anyone else,” Aunt Lydia said, casting me a glance.

  I nodded. Of course my aunt would make that gesture. She might hold a grudge, but she had a big heart. She wouldn’t allow Mel to travel to a strange hospital on her own.

  As soon as Mel’s stretcher was loaded, the ambulance carrying her and Aunt Lydia roared off with its sirens blaring.

  “Okay, so that ambulance is going to hightail it to a trauma center,” said the older female EMT bandaging Richard’s arm. “Best one is a ways off, in the city, so they needed to go on ahead. We’ll take you down to the local hospital in a bit, if that’s okay.”

  “Not a problem,” he said. “Amy, maybe you can get one of the deputies to drive you home.”

  “You mean to the hospital. It’s not like I’m going to go home and kick back and watch TV or something.”

  The EMT looked up at me. “You aren’t hurt?”

  “No, not at all. So I’ll just meet up with you at the emergency room,” I said.

  Richard shook his head. “You’ve been through a traumatic situation. You might want to run home and rest first. You know it will take forever at the hospital. You can just meet me there later.”

  “No way.” I met his stubborn gaze with my own recalcitrant stare. “I’ll ask one of the deputies to follow the ambulance. End of story.”

  The EMT looked from Richard to me and back again. “Seems the matter is decided,” she said.

  Richard sighed gustily. “And this is my life now. Overruled by a determined woman.”

  “Absolutely.” I shared a grin with the EMT, who motioned at two men standing behind the second ambulance.

  “Bring the stretcher and let’s get Mr. Muir off to the hospital as well.”

  “I can walk,” Richard said, attempting to stand.

  The EMT placed her hand on his good shoulder. “No, that’s against protocol. You’ve been moving around too much as it is. One never knows about bullet fragments and such in these cases. Best to take precautions and keep that arm perfectly still.”

  “Well, there go my plans for the evening.” Richard cast me a roguish glance.

  “He really is pretty adorable,” the EMT told me, her lined face brightening. “But I also see he can be a bit stubborn. We’ll take care of him for now, but when they discharge him from the hospital, you’ll need to make sure he behaves.”

  “I will,” I said, as Richard sputtered in the background.

  “Although”—the woman looked Richard over before winking at me—“I understand the temptation to let him have his way.”

  “I’m sitting right here,” Richard muttered as the EMT and I laughed. A slightly hysterical laugh on my part, but it relieved the tension.

  I waited off to the side as the ambulance personnel lifted Richard and secured him on the rolling stretcher. Following them to the back door of the ambulance, I called out to Richard, “I’ll be right behind you, and I will stay at the hospital until you can go home.”

  Richard, who couldn’t really move anything else, wagged one foot at me before the EMTs shut the doors and the ambulance drove off.

  I immediately headed for two deputies standing by a patrol car, but Brad stepped in front of me before I could reach them.

  “Hold up,” he said. “I know they had to take Richard off, and your aunt needed to ride with Mel Riley, but I
have to know what happened here. And why”—he fixed me with a stern gaze—“no one contacted us before all this went down.”

  I lifted my shoulders. “I’m not entirely sure. Aunt Lydia and I couldn’t call anyone because Trey took my phone, and then he held a gun on us. I don’t know why Kurt Kendrick didn’t alert your office when he got that call from Trey, but maybe he was afraid Trey really would kill Aunt Lydia or me if he showed up with anyone from the sheriff’s department.”

  “What call?” Brad fiddled with his badge as if he wished he could remove it and avoid this entire conversation. “What was Kendrick supposed to do?”

  “Bring some painting to trade for our safety. Only he didn’t actually have the painting because I made that part up to buy us some time…”

  “Okay, now I’m lost. Never mind that for now; just tell me how Richard got mixed up in this.”

  “I think maybe he called Kendrick when he found our front door unlocked and nobody home.”

  Brad stared at me as if I’d grown an extra ear. “Trey Riley left the door unlocked?”

  “No, I did. So Richard would know something was wrong. Which he obviously did. I don’t know why he called Kendrick instead of you, but maybe it’s because of that last visit to his house or something. I mean, maybe Richard thought we’d gone back there.” I wrinkled my nose as I realized how crazy it all sounded. “Anyway, Kendrick apparently brought Richard along but had him hide in the back seat of the car. I guess they thought they could get the jump on Trey if he didn’t know Richard had tagged along. That might have worked, except for some birds.”

  Brad rubbed at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Birds? What the hell do you mean?”

  As I explained the sequence of events that led to Trey firing off his gun, Brad’s face grew increasingly flushed. “Okay, hold on. This is too confusing for me to process right now. I think I have the basics, but I’m going to need written statements from all of you.” He examined me, obviously noticing that I was bouncing on my heels, anxious to find a ride and get to the hospital. “Eventually.”

  “Sure,” I said. “It all ties back to this forgery ring, you see. I think Kurt Kendrick really knows more about that than any of the rest of us.”

  “And he’s now chasing down Trey Riley?”

  “Yeah. I’ll say one thing for the old man—he isn’t afraid of a challenge.” That was putting it mildly. I met Brad’s intense gaze and shrugged my shoulders. “I think Mr. Kendrick’s not quite what he appears.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Brad said. “All right—you head to the hospital. I’ll have someone drive you there, then send a couple of deputies to take statements from you and Richard later.”

  As I jogged toward one of the deputies Brad called on to give me a ride, a commotion arose from the edge of the woods.

  I stopped in my tracks as Kurt Kendrick materialized from the trees, Trey Riley in tow.

  Kendrick had the gun, as well as a tight grip on Trey’s arm. “I think this is the man you’re looking for.”

  There was a bruise blooming under Trey’s left eye. I stared at the art dealer, who looked as calm as if he apprehended fugitives on a regular basis.

  Well maybe he does, I thought, shoving my fist to my mouth to stifle a burst of nervous laughter. What did I know about Kurt Kendrick, really?

  The team of deputies swarmed Trey and took him into custody while Kendrick simply handed over the gun, wiped his hands on his jacket, and stepped out of the way.

  Brad strode up to the older man and shook his finger in his face. “What the hell were you thinking? You should’ve notified us as soon as Riley contacted you with a ransom demand.”

  “Sorry, but I felt that Trey was too unstable to send in the authorities right away.” Kendrick was just a bit taller than Brad, which allowed him to look down into the chief deputy’s angry face.

  I realized this wasn’t something Brad was accustomed to, and he took a step back. “You’re not authorized to make such decisions.”

  Kendrick lifted his hands in a mea culpa gesture. “So sue me. Or arrest me. Or whatever. I simply did what I knew would save Amy and Lydia.”

  “You need to come in to the office with me.” Brad said, refusing to wilt under Kendrick’s icy glare.

  “But what about my car?” Kendrick motioned toward the black Jag. “I’d rather not leave it out here in the wilderness, as you can surely understand.”

  Brad shuffled his feet. “All right. I’ll drive it back, and you can ride with me.” As he motioned to the deputy he’d already asked to escort me, he called over a petite female deputy. “Denton, go ahead and take Ms. Webber to the hospital. Meanwhile, Frye, you’ll need to take my cruiser back to the station. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Yes, sir,” Alison Frye replied with enthusiasm.

  Looking to score a few brownie points, I thought, remembering her—and her obvious crush on Brad—from the LeBlanc murder scene.

  “Sure you can handle a Jag?” Kendrick’s blue eyes were as clear as rain.

  Brad snorted. “If it has wheels and an engine, I can drive it. Take it apart and put it back together too,” he added, giving Kendrick a defiant look.

  “Well, let’s not try that.” Kurt Kendrick motioned toward his vehicle. “After you, Deputy Tucker.”

  “Chief Deputy,” Brad muttered as he headed for the black sports car. He paused for a second as he passed me. “You get to the hospital. I’m sure Richard will want to know where you are.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, snapping my hand to my forehead in a mock salute.

  Brad muttered something that sounded like women as Kurt Kendrick winked at me and laughed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Richard had certainly hit the target when he claimed it would be my turn to wait. Wrinkling my nose at the acrid scent of disinfectant, I slouched in an uncomfortable wooden-framed chair with cushions worn thin as paper. A digital clock clicked off the minutes, then hours. According to the attendant at the desk, Richard had been rolled into an examination cubicle as soon as his ambulance arrived, but I wasn’t allowed to see him, so all I could do was wait. And wait. And wait.

  I didn’t blame the doctors, though. One of the nurses informed me that they planned to be especially thorough with their scans and other tests to ensure that there were no bullet fragments lodged in his arm and no damage to his nerves or muscles. The nurse told me they always tried to take extra precautions with dancers and athletes, since minor damage that wouldn’t affect a typical patient could be catastrophic for someone whose career required physical exertion. I was grateful for their efforts, but the nurse’s words just amplified my concern over Richard’s condition. His body was his canvas, and I knew he’d hate anything that would limit his ability to dance.

  “You look concerned,” said a familiar voice. “Everything going all right?”

  I looked up into Kurt Kendrick’s lined face. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just that, with Richard being a dancer, any damage to his limbs is problematic.”

  “Ah yes, I understand.” Kendrick motioned toward the chair next to me. “Mind if I sit down?”

  “No, although I must warn you that the cushions are thin and the frame hard.” I frowned as he took a seat. “I thought Brad Tucker wanted to question you at the station.”

  “He did. I answered all his queries and came straight from there.” Kendrick sat back in the chair and stretched his long legs out in front to him. “You’re right—this chair is about as ergonomic as a seat in a rowboat.”

  “Just wait until you sit in it for an hour or more.” I tapped the wooden arm of the chair with my short fingernails. “So not that many questions, then? I thought they’d keep you longer.”

  Kendrick waved one hand through the air. “Oh, they would have. But they received a phone call from … well, let’s just say a higher authority. They released me immediately thereafter.”

  “Higher authority, huh?” I studied his rugged profile. “The feds?”

 
He glanced over at me, his ice-blue eyes very bright. “Could be.”

  I drummed my fingers against the chair arm. “You protected Reese LeBlanc because you absolutely knew for certain that the Quinns were involved, didn’t you? Where is he, by the way?”

  “In witness protection, along with Lila.” Kendrick’s knuckles cracked as he entwined his fingers and stretched out his arms.

  “Your doing?”

  “In part. I truly believed that the Quinns had arranged Rachel’s murder and thought Reese and Lila were in danger as well.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about this Quinn gang.” I scooted to the edge of my chair. “Were you once mixed up with them or something?”

  “No, not in the way you think.” Kendrick sat back and stroked his chin. “I was approached by some of their representatives over the years, but as poor, misguided Trey Riley said, I love art too much. I never wanted to be involved in their forgery schemes. In fact, my dearest hope has been to bring them down, one way or the other.”

  “So that’s the fed connection? You’ve been trying to help them destroy the forgery ring?”

  “Could be.”

  “Did you know Mel Riley was involved? I mean, as a go-between?”

  “No.” Kendrick tugged down the sleeves of his wool jacket. “I knew there had to be someone in the area, but I didn’t suspect her.”

  “She was involved with them for over thirty years, it seems.”

  “Yes, quite astonishing, really. Few of their liaisons lived that long.” Kendrick looked over at me with a lift of his bushy eyebrows. “I suppose that speaks well of Mel’s cleverness.”

  “And her status. She was a diplomat’s wife. If she disappeared or died mysteriously…”

  “Yes, there is that. The very thing the Quinns thought useful also made her untouchable. But unfortunately, as often happens, it seems Mel’s greed drove her to do some rather stupid things. As greed often does. That second painting she hid from the Quinns could’ve cost her life if her duplicity had been discovered, diplomat’s wife or not. But I can’t feel much pity for her. Even if she was under threat as well, she used both Andrew and Reese for her own financial gain and placed them and their families in grave danger.”