Claws of Death

by Linda Reilly

  “What about the Wild Carrot Society? Couldn’t your mom ask them for help?”

  Joy gripped the gun. “You know about that?”

  “I stumbled on it by accident,” Lara said.

  “It was a joke. None of them would help us. They didn’t really believe she was being abused. Dad would’ve been ashamed of all of them.”

  “Why did you kill Donald Waitt?” Lara asked, eyeing the gun.

  Joy’s lips flatlined. “He was driving that night. He could’ve made sure Deanna was on time, but he didn’t because he wanted to make out with her. He didn’t care about any of us. No one did. Besides, I wanted it to look like Deanna killed him.”

  “Is that why you sent him those threatening texts that supposedly came from Deanna?”

  Joy looked at her. “How do you know all this?”

  “I-I think it was in the paper.”

  “When I was seventeen I left home. By then, I didn’t care anymore, either—not even about Will. For a while I lived on a commune. You know, Lara, I really wish you hadn’t come here. You’re a nice lady, but now you’ve created a big problem for me.” She shrugged. “One thing you don’t need to worry about—I’m not going to shoot Deanna. There won’t be any blood spatter on the walls.”

  Lara nearly fainted with relief.

  “I’m going to duct tape her nose and mouth shut. That way she’ll know how my dad felt when he drowned in that icy river.”

  “Nooooo.” The sound came from Will, guttural and heartrending.

  Deanna jerked in her chair. “For the love of God, Joy, I was sixteen years old. I never meant to hurt anybody. I was a silly, stupid girl. Can’t you see that?”

  Still clutching the gun, Joy reached for the roll of duct tape.

  In the next moment, a flash of cream-colored fur skidded across the piecrust table and knocked the tape to the floor.

  “What the—” Joy stared at her hand as if it had grown talons. “How did I—?”

  Lara’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might bubble up through her lips. Blue batted at the roll of tape as if toying with a mouse. The tape changed direction and skittered away until it rested underneath a sideboard.

  Stunned, Lara froze in shock, her limbs refusing to move. She knew Joy couldn’t see Blue.

  A noise at the front door penetrated her brain, but her eyes were fixed on Joy. She needed to free Deanna so they could get out of there.

  “Lara!”

  Lara looked up to see Gideon rushing into the room. He stopped short, nearly tripping over the carpet, his sharp gaze taking in the scene. He whipped his phone out of his pocket.

  Her eyes now closed, Joy gripped the handle of the gun and pressed the barrel to her temple. “I’ll be with you soon, Dad.”

  Lara and Gideon lunged at her simultaneously, but before they could reach her Will was already there. He flung himself at his sister, sending her chair toppling backward as the gun discharged in a deafening blast.

  Will lifted his sister’s shoulders and crushed her to him, his sorrowful wail echoing off the papered walls.

  “Gid, we need help,” Lara said, her own face streaming with tears.

  “Already done,” he said.

  By then Blue had vanished. Gideon went over to Will and pulled him gently away from his sister. “It’s okay, son. Let her go so we can get her some help, okay?”

  His body still racked with sobs, Will nodded and lowered her gently to the floor. Joy lay on her back, unmoving, except for a tiny flicker of her eyelids. Blood seeped from a wound on her temple.

  “I think she’s only grazed,” Gideon said, “but she needs to get to the hospital.”

  Lara looked around frantically, then spied a crocheted throw folded over the back of the fainting sofa. She went over and grabbed it, then bent over Joy, tucking it around her neck and shoulders.

  Gideon’s face was white. “Lara, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but Deanna needs help, too, and I have to find Nancy and the kittens.” She turned to Will. “Will, do you know where they are?”

  His face blotchy, Will nodded miserably. He pointed at the ceiling.

  Lara jumped up and raced out of the room, passing Chief Whitley jogging through the front door. “Help’s on the way,” he said.

  “In there,” Lara gasped out, pointing at the room. The burned egg smell was stronger now, more like scorched metal. “Ne-need ambulance,” she added and dashed up the stairs. “And shut off the stove before the whole house goes up in flames!”

  Lara took the stairs two at a time and flew down the hallway. When she reached Deanna’s bedroom, she found the door closed. She turned the knob and almost fell into the room.

  Nancy lay on her side in Deanna’s bed, her hands tied tightly with rope and secured to the bedpost. A strip of duct tape covered her mouth. Her wig had slipped backward, exposing a scalp graced with only thin wisps of hair. Noodle and Doodle were nestled in the curve of her chest, purring as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

  Nancy looked at Lara with a mixture of pain and relief.

  “Let me get this off,” Lara said. She peeled back the duct tape as gently as she could.

  Nancy winced, then gasped out a shaky breath. “Thank God,” she said and took several deep breaths. “Is Deanna okay?”

  “She’s fine, but she needs to go to the hospital and get checked out. You do, too. An ambulance should be here any second.”

  Lara struggled with the rope, which had been tied in multiple knots. After she managed to untangle the last one, Nancy sat up and rubbed her wrists. “I’m sorry, but I have to c-cry now. I didn’t dare do it before—I was afraid I’d suffocate.”

  Lara leaned over and hugged her. “You cry all you want. I think I’ll cry, too.”

  That’s how the paramedics found them—both women hugging each other with tears streaming down their cheeks. Nancy blotted her face with the back of one hand, her other hand curled lovingly around both kittens.

  “Aw, those little guys kept you company, didn’t they?” one of the paramedics said.

  “They kept me from going insane,” Nancy blurted. “Th-they seemed to sense that I was in trouble.” She stroked Noodle’s head, and then Doodle’s, before the paramedics transferred her to the stretcher. One of them adjusted her wig so that it sat straighter on her head. “Thank you,” Nancy said. “Do I really need to go to the hospital?”

  “We recommend it, ma’am. Besides, your boss wants to be sure you’re okay.”

  Nancy looked once more at the kittens. “Will they be okay here?”

  “I’ll take them home and bring them back here as soon as you and Deanna are ready,” Lara promised. She waved at the stretcher as it rolled down the hallway.

  Gideon’s face appeared in the doorway. He’d gotten some of his color back, but he still looked stricken. He moved toward her, and in one swift move wrapped her in a giant bear hug.

  Lara laughed and cried at the same time. “I still don’t get why you came over here. Did you have a flash of ESP or something?”

  “I’m honestly not sure myself,” he said. “I was gobbling down a quick lunch at my desk and I opened a bottle of iced tea. Then my client, the one I told you about, came back with that photo. I knew right away where I’d seen it before.”

  “The one in Joy’s shop,” Lara supplied.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It bothered me, big time. But…there was something else. I was trying to connect the dots, as you put it, when my iced tea bottle flew off my desk. I swear, I wasn’t anywhere near it. It was like…it jumped off my desk on its own.”

  Lara smothered a smile, her mind picturing a certain Ragdoll cat lighting a mental fire under Gideon.

  “Long story short,” Gideon said, “something about the tea stuck in my head—the photo, the tealeaf lady, your tea party-slash-luncheon at
Deanna’s. It was like someone was whispering—no, more like bellowing in my ear.”

  “Must’ve been my guardian angel.”

  Chapter 27

  “Now that my taste buds are back,” Aunt Fran said with a grimace, “I’m not sure I’ll ever want tea again. At least not for a couple of weeks.” She pushed aside her cup and drank a mouthful of orange juice. She smiled down at Dolce, who sat in her lap, and stroked the cat’s neck.

  “I second that,” Lara said. “I swear, I can still smell the chamomile in that tea Joy poured for herself. I hope I never smell it again.”

  Two days had passed since Joy Renfield tried to kill Deanna. The network cable trucks were back, clogging the roadway in front of the mansion. Late yesterday, Deanna had come out and given a statement to the reporters. Gracious and penitent, she gave a truthful account of everything she remembered about that cold November night. She expressed deep sorrow for Joy and her family, as well as for Donald Waitt’s loved ones.

  “Poor Deanna. Hollywood’s late date for sure,” Lara said. “I can’t help wondering, if she’d been on time that night, would Wilbur Tardiff still have had that accident? Would it really have made a difference?”

  “We’ll never know,” her aunt said. “It’s one of the mysteries of life. Many people believe that everything in life unfolds exactly as it’s supposed to.”

  “Maybe,” Lara said soberly, gripping her coffee mug, “but I like to think that the choices we make contribute at least a little to our fates.” She grinned when she saw a familiar face peeking through the screen door—a face that made her heart waltz around her chest.

  Gideon stepped inside and leaned down to hug Lara, then went over and hugged Aunt Fran. He plunked a white bakery bag on the table, then helped himself to a chair.

  They hadn’t seen each other since Monday, although they’d shared a zillion texts and calls. After Joy, Deanna, and Nancy had been loaded into separate ambulances, a state police detective had sat with Lara and gotten her entire account of what happened from the time she’d arrived at Deanna’s until the moment the police had invaded the house. Hours later, she’d driven home, limp with exhaustion, Noodle and Doodle tucked safely inside her carrier.

  Lara peeked inside the bag. “Bagels? Where did you get them?”

  “A new place opened up on Elm Street. Thought we’d try them.”

  “Uh oh. Competition for the coffee shop?”

  “Nah, I don’t think so. Totally different type of place. There’s cream cheese in the bag, too.”

  Lara helped herself to a cinnamon bagel, which had already been sliced in half. “Yum. So, how did your meeting go this morning?” She pulled out a silver packet of cream cheese and spread it over one of the halves.

  Gideon had been asked to confer with Chief Whitley and two detectives from the state police. They wanted his statement as to what he’d witnessed on Monday.

  “First, I’ll tell you what I learned. Joy is recovering. They expect to release her from the hospital either tomorrow or Friday. After that she’ll be transferred to a different hospital for evaluation. And after that…well, her fate will be in the hands of the criminal justice system.”

  “I can’t imagine she’ll avoid prison,” Lara said. “I have to say, though, my heart still aches for her. When her dad died, her childhood died with him. I don’t think she ever had a moment of joy after that.”

  Gideon nodded. “Strange, because she was named Joy. I sat with her at the hospital yesterday when she gave her statement to one of the homicide detectives. She still believes Deanna was responsible for her father’s death. She spilled her entire life story to us. I have to say, it was one of the saddest I ever heard. Mind if I grab a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure, sorry,” Lara said. “My brain is on idle today. There’s a fresh pot on the stove. The mugs are on the counter.”

  Gideon helped himself to coffee. When he came back to sit down, Munster had stolen his chair.

  Gideon laughed. “Hey, did you reserve that seat?” he teased. He lifted Munster with his free hand, sat down, and set the cat in his lap. “There, now we can both sit.” He ruffled the fur on Munster’s neck.

  “You were telling us Joy’s story,” Lara reminded him.

  “Right. From the time Joy’s dad died, neither she, nor her siblings, nor her mom ever enjoyed a day of peace. Her stepfather was a taskmaster. He treated them all like servants. After she graduated from high school, she took up with a guy who made his living dealing marijuana. They ended up traveling to California, living on a commune. After that they drifted, and eventually split up.”

  “What about Will?” Lara asked. “Where did he end up?”

  “That’s a sad story, too,” Gideon said and took a sip from his mug. “The mom died sometime in the late seventies—from a broken heart, Joy firmly believes. Both of Joy’s sisters had long since moved out of the house. Eventually the two girls got an apartment together and took Will to live with them. He enjoyed doing odd jobs, helping people with yard work, things like that.”

  “Where was Joy all this time?” Aunt Fran asked. “Did she stay in California?”

  “She did until the early nineteen-nineties. Never married. No kids. After her younger sister died, she came back to New Hampshire and settled in Moultonborough. By then Will was living with their sister Pauline, but they were struggling, surviving mostly on help from the state. Pauline succumbed to alcoholism a few years ago. That’s when Joy took Will to live with her.”

  Lara remembered the fear etched on Will’s face when he’d dragged her into the house that day. Her heart broke for him, too.

  She tore off a piece of her bagel and held it aloft. “Gid, when Joy was telling me about the night of the accident, something occurred to me. How could she have remembered it in such detail? She was only seven or eight, right?”

  “You’re right,” Gideon said. “She was seven when her dad died. I don’t think she did remember it. Over the years, her mother told the kids the story so many times that it became ingrained in her head. The mom blamed Deanna and Donald for the accident, and for all their subsequent troubles. Joy never let go of that.”

  “Then Deanna moved back to town,” Lara said, surmising the rest. “Joy saw her chance to get revenge for all the years of pain her family suffered.” She popped the piece of bagel into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

  “Exactly. When that article went in the paper about Deanna moving into the old stone mansion, all those feelings of rage came back. Joy began to plot.”

  Lara filled in the missing pieces. “When she found out the Ladies’ Association was having a welcome event for Deanna, she must have begged Evelyn Conley to let her supply the tea.”

  “Yeah, no doubt.”

  Aunt Fran raised an eyebrow. “Not to tell tales out of school, but I know for a fact Evelyn is a world-class penny-pincher. I’m sure she jumped at the chance to save the association a bit of cash.”

  “So, Joy’s the one who wrote on Deanna’s car window?” Lara asked.

  “Not quite. She had her brother do it while she was inside serving tea. She wrote out on a piece of paper exactly what he should write. Poor guy. He was only doing what his sister told him to do. He thought he was helping her. That paper and the lipstick were found under the front seat of her car.”

  “And he must have put those worms in Deanna’s purse, too.”

  Gideon chuckled. “Guess again. Your buddy Evelyn came into the police station yesterday. She wanted to ‘come clean’ as she put it. Turns out she paid one of the two server boys to dig up those worms and stick them in Deanna’s purse. I guess she was still mad at Deanna for that imagined snub all those years ago.”

  Aunt Fran looked quizzically at Lara. “Hmm, you never told me that story.”

  “Sorry, I was sworn to secrecy. Loose lips, remember?” She sat back in her chair. “I can’t help think
ing, is revenge truly that sweet? Is it worth it to hold on to all that anger for decades of your life?”

  “I guess it is for some people,” Aunt Fran said. “But it’s not a healthy way to live. Not in my book, anyway.”

  Gideon looked solemn. “Some people, like Joy, can never forget. It devoured her life. I contacted a friend of mine this morning, old law school buddy. He’s going to represent Joy.”

  “Is he good?” Lara asked.

  “Dynamite,” Gideon said. “Nevertheless, Joy committed one premeditated murder, and attempted to commit a second. That’ll weigh heavily against her.”

  Lara’s thoughts drifted. She hadn’t been able to get Joy out of her head for two days. Not only because of the nightmare that took place at the mansion. Joy’s words that evening in the tea shop had been haunting her.

  Unburden yourself…you’ll find others more receptive than you think.

  Joy looked at her aunt, and then at Gideon—the two people in the world she cared for most. Something clutched at her heart, and she felt her eyes getting misty.

  “You okay, honey?” Gideon said quietly.

  Lara nodded. She reached over and covered his hand with her own. In only a week’s time, they’d grown so much closer. It thrilled her and frightened her at the same time.

  “I’m very okay, and very lucky. Look at everything I have, everything I’ve been taking for granted. I’ll never take it for granted again.”

  Gideon grinned at her. “Okay, now you’re getting philosophical,” he teased.

  “I’m only getting real,” Lara corrected with a smile.

  But I’m not ready to tell either of you my secret, not yet.

  For now, I’m the only one who can know about Blue.

  “I can’t stop thinking about Wilbur,” Lara said. “In his own way, he pioneered a kind of shelter for battered women. It just didn’t work out the way he’d hoped.”