Though she was aiming the pistol at Rick, her hands were shaking, almost uncontrollably.
“Sheila, listen to me!” Rick’s face was pasty white. The rain had soaked his white pants and shirt, plastering them against his skin. He pushed his hair out of his face. “We can still work this out! We have to stick to the plan!”
She cocked the pistol. “Forget your plan. You had your chance.” She took aim, but as she fired the gun, a bolt of lightning cracked the sky, startling her. She stepped back and the shot went wide. Rick dove for her and knocked her to the ground. She groaned, and the gun skittered away on the sand toward the water.
Jackson went for the gun, but Rick saw him and went for it, too. He tackled Jackson and the two of them went down. They struggled, each trying to pin the other, and began to roll into the water. Jackson got there first and stood up. Rick grabbed him by the knees and Jackson plunged in the water. Rick got on top of him and tried to hold him under.
I knew I had to save Jackson. Adrenaline pumping, I darted out from behind the tall grass, jumped on Rick’s back, and put my arms around his neck and squeezed.
“Get off me!” he yelled, and tried to throw me off.
Jackson’s head popped up out of the water. He gasped for air, took two steps, and punched Rick in the nose. Rick fell in the water with me on top of him. I let go, and Jackson and I ran for the beach.
“Where’s the gun?” Jackson yelled. Both of us scanned the beach but it wasn’t there. “Where is it?”
“I have it,” Sheila said, aiming it at us.
“Throw it to me!” Rick called as he trudged out of the water. “If you want to get out of this without going to jail, throw it to me! I know what I’m doing, Sheila.”
Despite their earlier confrontation, she threw the gun to him. He grabbed it and trained it on us. Unlike Sheila’s, Rick’s hand wasn’t trembling. He held the gun easily, like someone who knew how to shoot.
Jackson lifted his hands in the air. “Don’t do anything, crazy, Rick. The cops are on their way.”
Rick smirked. “Sure they are.” He pointed the gun at me. “You have been a grade-A pain in my you-know-what. Now, here you are again.”
“So you’re the one who’s been threatening her and trying to get her out of the way?” Jackson said.
Rick nodded. “Someone had to try and stop you. I didn’t have a choice about you being on the set. That was MJ’s decision, and you don’t argue with MJ if you want the show to come in on schedule. So once MJ decided she wanted you both here, I had to do what I could to get you to back off.”
“So the call, the letter, cutting that branch, pushing me down the stairs, that was all you?” I felt anger bubbling up inside me.
“Yep.” Rick actually started chuckling. “And Sheila, here, took your precious doggy and locked you inside the shed.”
Sheila pointed to Rick. “It was his idea. He said to look for ways to make you back off. I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t have done any of this. I was just, well, desperate. I had to do it, for James.”
“What about Tom?” I asked Rick. “Are you the one who beat him up?”
Rick touched his still-bandaged nose. “I told you, I owed Tom. Besides, he’s no angel. He didn’t want you here either, and he couldn’t wait to pin his brother’s murder on Simon. But, yeah, I’m the one who decked him. Then, I dragged him into the secret passage and locked both doors.”
I knew I needed to keep Rick talking until Detective Koren arrived. “What about those strange happenings in the house—the whispers, the lights dimming, books flying from the shelves, the cracked mirror, and the chandelier crashing to the floor. Did you do all that, too?”
“You and Amanda,” Jackson added. “With the help of that control panel in the bathroom cabinet?”
“So, you know about that,” Rick said. “Very good. Well, we used it to create the whispers and the lights, yes. But as for the rest, well, I guess you’d have to blame the rest on the ghosts. You’d have to ask MJ, but, of course, you won’t get the chance.” He cocked the gun.
“Wait!” I shouted. I was so cold I could hear my teeth chattering, but I had to keep him talking. Where was Koren? “If you’re going to kill us, at least tell us why you killed Roger.”
“Now why would I do that?” Rick gave me a sly look. He seemed like an entirely different person, but this was who he really was all along. How could MJ not have known?
Panic was ricocheting through my body, but I came up with one more delaying tactic. “Wait! Let me tell you my theory. You tell me if I’m right.”
Rick looked at me in disbelief, then said, “Okay, I could use a laugh. Go ahead tell me what you think I did.”
“I think you took photos of the estate and the beach to help you plan the murder. I found the disposable camera.”
“That was nothing. Just some vacation photos. What else you got?”
“I think last Sunday night, you lured Roger up to the bathroom to talk about the logistics of shooting there, or maybe you convinced him to show you the goodies in the medicine cabinet.”
“Boring. What else you got?”
I looked toward the stairs. No Koren yet. He was probably stuck in some stupid pothole. “I think you knocked him out and put him in the tub and drowned him. Once he was dead, you stashed him in the secret tunnel and waited until the party was winding down. Then you carried him across the lawn to the beach. When you got to the cottage, you put the idea in MJ’s head that something was wrong on the beach. So she went out to look.”
“You’re so stupid. That’s not what happened at all. Roger asked me to go upstairs. He wanted to show me the medicine cabinet. When we got up there, he told me that he was in love with MJ and he wanted her all for himself. He tried to kill me! I had to defend myself.”
“You buy that?” I said to Jackson.
“I like your version better.”
“I do, too,” I said. “But what I’d like to know is why you made Roger’s murder seem just like Daniel Russell’s. You killed Roger the same way Max killed Daniel and for the same reason. For love.”
Rick looked bewildered. “Max killed Daniel? Roger never told us that.”
“But Amanda must have,” Jackson said, trying to inch toward Rick. “You and MJ had her researching everything that ever happened in this house.”
“Stay right there, Spade.” Rick kept the gun on him but turned to me. “Okay, I copied the 1933 murder to make Roger’s murder seem supernatural. I thought it would work for the show. Goose the ratings, you know? The secret passage was also a great way to get the body out of the house. I wanted to throw the cops off the scent, and it worked. I even wound up with the perfect patsy. Your ex-boyfriend is going to go to prison for Roger’s murder, probably for the rest of his life. I tell you, of all the plans I ever made, this one is the finest.”
“We hatched the plan together when you came out here to scout the location,” Sheila corrected him. “If you remember, Rick, everything except Simon’s involvement was my idea.”
“Shut up,” Rick said, floating the gun over to point at her.
“Weren’t you afraid MJ would find out?” I said.
Rick laughed, and I was again in the gun’s sights. “That would only be a problem if MJ were a real psychic. Did you really believe all that stuff she did in the manor? Most of that was thanks to Amanda. She’s good with that technical stuff. She showed me how to do it, too. The scene up there tonight was mental! That black smoke and the other stuff worked just the way I planned it. The audience will eat it up. We’ll definitely get an order for next season.”
“So you did it to hold on to MJ, keep your stake in Galaxy, and to make your show successful. Wow, you were going for the trifecta.”
“Right.” Rick aimed the gun at Jackson. “I need you to stand right next to her. I want you both in my sights.” Moving slowly, Jackson stepped sideways so he was standing right next to me. It would have been a comfort, except I knew what was coming next, and I felt my wh
ole body go tense with terror. “Enough talking,” Rick said in an amiable voice. “Time to go.”
He cocked the gun, and in that instant lightning split the sky. Rick, like Sheila, was startled and stepped back. Jackson didn’t hesitate. Moving faster than I thought was humanly possible, he charged Rick and dropped him to the wet, hard sand. Once again, the gun skittered away, sliding across the sand toward the water. But this time I grabbed it.
I whirled around to see that Jackson had grabbed Rick with one arm and Sheila with the other. I pointed the gun at them. “Stay right where you are. It’s over.”
epilogue
The police arrived minutes later and took Rick and Sheila into custody around 4:00 a.m. I gave Detective Koren the letter from Max and told him what Mrs. Thorne had said about Mrs. Florrick, too. Then Jackson and I filled him in on Rick’s confession. Koren gave me his usual speech about staying out of police business, but both he and I knew it was just talk. I’d solved another mystery, and he didn’t like it.
Jackson and I headed back to my house, took a steamy hot shower together, and climbed into bed around 5:00 a.m. with the dogs and cats. Home, at last.
We woke up five and a half hours later, at ten thirty Monday morning. I rolled over, grabbed my iPhone, and checked my e-mail. There was just one message, from Carly, sent at 5:00 a.m. Simon has been freed from jail! Thank you! We’ll meet you at the estate for the wrap party at noon! Love you both, XO Carly and Simon.
“Don’t tell me. It’s Simon, right?” Jackson mumbled from the other side of the bed.
I snuggled over to him and held the iPhone in front of his face. He read the message and rolled over to kiss me. “You are truly amazing.”
I kissed him back. “You are. What other boyfriend would help his girlfriend help her ex-boyfriend?”
Jackson thought about this for a moment. “You’re right. I am amazing. I’d have to be to put up with Simon.” He smiled and kissed me again.
“I’m just glad it’s over. Now I can concentrate on my business again and, of course, you.”
“Sounds good to me.” He inched over to kiss me once more, but Rockford stuck his little snout in between our faces. “Who do we have here?” He gave the dog a kiss on his nose. Seeing this, Columbo and Qigong jumped on top of Jackson and slathered him with wet doggy kisses. Jackson started laughing and I did, too. It was good to have things back to normal. Or the new normal. I felt truly blessed.
A little before noon on Monday we parked in the driveway in front of the Bixby mansion for what we both hoped was the last time. Jackson turned off the ignition and looked at me. “Are you ready for this?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes. I want to make sure MJ is okay with all that’s happened. I need to talk to her.” I also needed to pick up my stuff from the healing cottage. We walked down toward the tent, but before we even got there, Carly and Simon came running to meet us.
“Willow! You’re here!” Carly hugged me tight. “You are a genius! We can’t thank you enough!”
“Jackson was just as much a part of this as I was.”
“We know, we know. Thanks so much, man.” Simon gave Jackson a hug, then turned to me next. “And you, you saved my life.” Simon hugged me tight. “Thank you, Willow! I owe you big-time!”
“You are very welcome.” I noticed an Irish Claddagh ring on Carly’s left hand. “Is this something new?”
Simon took her hand. “I asked her to marry me, but she wants to take it slow. I got this for her instead from a little boutique in town, the Gem. But Carly’s the gem. She stuck with me through this whole horrible ordeal.” He kissed her.
Carly admired her ring. “I love it. It’s a pre-engagement ring.”
I silently wished them luck, hoping it would last.
“You guys hungry?” Simon asked. “It’s an all-organic buffet, thanks to Carly.”
“Between the yoga classes and the treatments, you’ve renewed my belief in natural remedies,” Carly explained. “We’re having only organic food on our sets from now on.”
“I’m sure Tom will appreciate that,” I said, giving Jackson a look.
“Don’t worry about him.” Carly led us into the tent. “He’s in rehab and isn’t expected to be out for a few months. Turns out he has a problem with alcohol and cocaine. That’s why he was always broke and always asking Roger for money.”
“I’m glad to hear he’s getting help,” Jackson said. “He’ll be a better person when he’s clean.”
“One can hope,” Carly said. “Shall we eat?”
The four of us got in line for the organic buffet—a beautiful display of fresh greens for salads, veggies and fruits, vegan lasagna, and Asian-inspired dishes made with tofu. We filled our plates, grabbed two passion-fruit iced teas, and found a table near the door so we could see the water.
I spotted Lucas at the buffet line and waved him over. He brought his plate over and came to sit next to me. “How are you doing, Lucas?”
“Not great. My mother is in jail, and I just got back from visiting my dad in the hospital. It’s a damn mess.”
“What happened to your dad?”
“Well, at about four a.m. last night, the police came by to tell us that my mother had been arrested and was going to be charged as an accessory to murder. My dad just collapsed. The ER doc said it was a stroke. He’s very weak and is having trouble talking and moving his right hand.”
“I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t help thinking how Max’s original crime—raping Rebecca—just kept claiming victims, destroying lives.
Lucas shrugged. “Well, it’s not all a disaster.” He gave Carly a shy smile. “Carly invited me to the appointment she had at a lawyer’s office. I stopped there on the way back from the hospital. Tom was there, too, with a friend. He called him his sponsor.”
“It was a meeting about the estate,” Carly said. “I had to schedule it after Roger died. We read the will. Roger hadn’t updated it recently so, as his wife, I was still the main beneficiary.” An unreadable look passed between her and Lucas.
“And?” Jackson prompted.
Carly sighed. “Well, I never liked the estate. It has always creeped me out. The truth is, I don’t want it or need it or care much what happens to it. But Lucas does, and so does Tom. And really, Max was wrong to leave everything to Roger. He should have split it among his sons, Roger, Tom—and James. So I asked the lawyer and Lucas and Tom if there wasn’t some way we could make things right.”
“At first Tom didn’t like that idea,” Lucas said. “But his sponsor suggested that he try to work with me, to do the right thing, to make amends, so we figured something out. When that letter you gave the detective is authenticated—and Mrs. Florrick says it will be—my dad will be a rightful heir to the property. But he’s not well enough to manage the estate, so Tom and I will do it together. We’ll be co-directors of the Bixby Trust.” Lucas picked up his fork and motioned outside. “We’re giving the house to the state. The lawyer is pretty sure they’ll turn it into an historical site, what with all the rum-running history plus the lavender farm. It’s got all sorts of potential as a tourist site. So some of the money will get used to pay for whatever care my dad needs and my mom’s legal costs. And Tom wants to build a nice big studio with plenty of light so he can sculpt when he gets out of rehab.”
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you going to stay in your family’s house?”
“For now. But if we can work out the finances, I’m going to knock down my parents’ place and build a new house—something bright and cheerful—for my dad and me.”
MJ didn’t come to the party. Carly told us that she’d checked herself into a hotel on the South Fork for a few days.
Life for the rest of us returned to normal. Labor Day was crazy busy in the store and café. Merrily was starting to feel a little better so that helped a lot.
Two days later, on Wednesday morning, MJ came in the door. I walked over to her and gave her a hug. “It’s good to see you. How are you?�
��
“Better now. I needed to get away. It was too crazy here. I’m still having trouble processing what happened.”
“It’s a lot to take in. Do you have time for a cup of herbal tea? Anything you like.”
“Chamomile would be great, thanks.”
As I got up to go in the kitchen, Jackson walked in the front door with Columbo and Rockford. He came over to me and gave me a kiss and said hello to MJ.
“The dogs look so healthy,” MJ said as she petted them. “I can see they have a good home.”
Jackson pulled some papers out of his back pocket. “Pretty soon, I’ll be able to give more dogs a home. I just applied for a permit to create a sanctuary at my house. It should be set in a month or so. Columbo and Rockford will soon have plenty of friends.”
“That’s fantastic!” I said. “I’m so proud of you.”
“How wonderful.” MJ scratched the dogs behind the ears.
“I’ve got to go home and make some calls about this, but I just wanted to stop by and share the good news.” Jackson turned to MJ. “I’ll leave you gals to your chat.”
“I’ll call you later,” I said as I walked him to the door. “Maybe we can have an organic BBQ at your house.”
“Grilled tofu? I think not. I’ll come up with something else that’s healthy and appealing.”
“Sounds good.” I kissed him good-bye.
After he left, I said, “I’m going to get us that tea.” I went into the kitchen and put on the teakettle. A few minutes later, I returned to the table with two cups of piping hot tea and some organic chocolate chip cookies.
“You’ve been through an awful lot. Losing Roger and now Rick. How do you feel about what Rick has done? Are you angry?”
Scent to Kill: A Natural Remedies Mystery (Natural Remedies Mysteries) Page 25
