Murder by Proxy [Edna Davies 02]

by Suzanne Young

  “I think he's talking about your inheritance,” Edna cut in quietly. She had been watching Rice's gun hand and studying his face.

  Anita turned a puzzled look on Edna. “How would he know about that? I wasn't even aware of it until Yonny told me.”

  Rice laughed with what seemed like real amusement. “You are so naïve, Sweetie. Don't you know I wouldn't have married anyone without having her fully investigated?” At her look of amazement he laughed again. “The first time I met your father—remember, he came to visit you in the office when you were still my secretary? I knew right off that he came from money. The way he dressed, the way he walked and talked. Written all over him. It made me curious as to where and how he grew up.”

  “You investigated my family?” Anita's eyes grew wide with disbelief.

  “Of course, Sweetheart. I just told you that I wouldn't have married you if I'd thought you were poor.” He shrugged. “I was going to ask you out. I just wouldn't have proposed unless there was a good reason.”

  “So that's why you turned on the charm so suddenly.”

  “Naturally. I couldn't let anyone else walk off with my millions, now could I?” He laughed again, obviously enjoying the joke on his wife.

  Thinking it might prove a way out of their dilemma, Edna said. “You can't inherit. Only Anita can. If you kill her, there go your millions, as you choose to phrase it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rice turned to her, the look of triumph still on his face. “You know nothing about it.”

  “She's right,” Yonny broke in. “Mrs. Maitland's will stipulates that her nephew must show up before she dies. If he's no longer alive or capable of making the trip, then one of his children must come to her. If nobody appears, the entire fortune goes to The Quinn Foundation.”

  Rice spun on him, pointing the gun at Yonny's forehead. “Just who the hell are you? You know nothing about this, so keep your mouth shut.” He was beginning to lose his temper again.

  “He's right,” Edna said, trying to take Rice's attention from Yonny. “Whoever shows up must be a blood relative.”

  Rice turned to her, looking thoughtful for several seconds. “Easy enough,” he finally said, his smirk returning. “I'll tell her Anita has been unavoidably detained, that I'm her husband and we want to take care of her. As long as your bodies aren't found before the old witch dies … well, maybe I can hurry that along, too.”

  “You won't get past her front gate,” Yonny snarled.

  “I told you to shut up,” Taking a step forward, Rice extended his arm, holding the gun mere inches from Yonny's forehead.

  “So you only married me for my money. You lied even when you said you loved me.”

  As Anita drew Rice's attention from Yonny, Edna realized she had been holding her breath. She let it out slowly, watching husband and wife face off once more.

  Rice had backed several steps away from Yonny before turning on his wife, destroying the hope Edna had that the younger man might grab the gun and somehow disarm Rice. She was drawn back to the argument.

  “At first, yes, it was a lie, but I fell in love with you. I didn't realize how much until you left me.” His face looked truly sad for a split second, Edna thought without feeling the least bit sorry for him.

  Anita's eyes narrowed as she snarled at her husband, “Have you been following me? Stalking me?”

  Edna wondered what Anita thought she was doing. She was purposely baiting him. Didn't she know her husband might snap at any moment and shoot them all? Her stomach in knots, Edna wished she could send some sort of signal to Anita to make her stop goading Rice. She looked around for something she could use as a weapon besides the tote bag she still held in her hands. If she struck him with something as harmless as a soft-sided bag, it might distract him enough to allow Yonny to overpower the older, less fit man, but it might also cause the gun to go off. Her eyes strayed to the window art hanging on a small suction cup as Rice answered his wife's accusation.

  “I had to know where you were, who you were with.” A slightly pleading whine had crept into his tone.

  “You don't know what love is.” Anita's voice was filled with contempt. “And the phone calls? What were all those calls for when you wouldn't say a word? I didn't think heavy breathing was your style, or were you waiting for a man to answer my phone?”

  “What phone calls?”

  Anita tossed her head with impatience. “You know what calls. The middle-of-the-night calls when you wouldn't speak. Those calls, as if you don't know.” She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to look out the window past Edna's shoulder.

  A look of amused tolerance crossed Rice's features. “So someone else has been after you. Probably one of your old boyfriends. Looks like I wasn't the only unfaithful one in this marriage, you hypocrite.” He lifted the gun as if he were about to backhand Anita with it.

  “Wait! Don't!” Edna shouted the words almost involuntarily as she took a step closer to the window. She had to keep Rice talking. She wasn't near enough to the circle of glass and metal yet. If only someone else would come along, someone who could help calm Rice down and get him to see that killing again wasn't the answer. He was looking at her, but he hadn't lowered the gun. Thinking frantically, she finally blurted, “Why kill Lia? Did she find out you were responsible for the Colliers' deaths?”

  “What are you talking about? I didn't kill Lia.” He frowned but lowered the gun to waist level as he looked at each of his hostages in turn, perhaps trying to determine if they all thought he had struck down Lia Martin.

  Edna continued speaking her thoughts aloud, inching nearer to the window whenever Rice wasn't looking directly at her. “It seems too coincidental that Lia should be killed. She was not only a friend, but someone who could pass for Anita in looks and build.” Something Grant had said returned to Edna. “Lia didn't usually run first thing in the morning. Anita was the one who ran mornings. Did you kill Lia mistaking her for your wife?”

  “Go ahead.” A small, high-pitched voice spoke from the doorway. “Tell her how much you wanted her dead.”

  Four sets of eyes turned to stare at Brea Tweed who seemed oblivious to the effect she was having on the others crowded into the small cabin. Steadying herself with a hand on the door, she brought one foot up to knee level and swatted at the dusty shoe with a tissue.

  Twenty-One

  “What are you doing here?”

  Edna was relieved to notice that when Rice turned sideways to speak to Brea, he kept his eyes on Yonny. Apparently, he felt the other man was his worst threat, maybe his only threat. She sidled another half step closer to the window.

  “Tell them,” Brea repeated, lowering her foot, “that you promised to marry me as soon as she,” Brea jerked her chin toward Anita, “was out of the way.” Smiling, she sashayed over to Rice and put her arm through his, seemingly oblivious of the gun in his hand.

  He took her wrist and, raising his gun arm momentarily, pulled her beneath his elbow and positioned her on his left side, his arm ending up around her shoulders. The move was accomplished as gracefully as a dance step. “What are you doing here?” he asked again. His eyes never left the hostages.

  “Why, following you, Darlin',” Brea snuggled closer to him, putting one arm around his waist and looking up into his face. Then her smile turned to a pout. “I would have been here sooner, but I had to walk up the hill. Just look at my shoes.”

  Everyone in the room dropped their eyes to Brea's two-inch, sling-back heels. The black leather was coated with a fine layer of brown dust. Edna took a step closer to the window.

  “Sweet Pea,” Rice said. He tightened his grip so that his fist was beneath her chin and lifted her face so she looked up at him. “Forget your shoes. Why are you following me?”

  “Rice, don't,” Brea whined. “You're hurting me.” She struggled to free herself, but Rice's grip was too tight. “I was on my way to Flatirons Crossing to do some shopping, and I saw you go by. You didn't even notice me. I
wanted to see where you were going.”

  Rice was quiet for a moment, looking from Anita to Edna to Yonny, then back to Anita before glancing down at Brea. Edna held her breath and felt her fingers tighten on the tote she still held in front of her, but Rice didn't seem to notice her change in position. His eyes went around the room but didn't settle on anything. It was as if he was working something through in his mind. He relaxed his fist, putting his hand back on Brea's shoulder.

  Anita had been staring at Brea. When she spoke, her voice shook with emotion. “You killed Lia?” Her words were both a question and an accusation.

  Brea looked at Anita, her lower lip firmed in defiance. “It was an accident. I didn't mean to hurt Lia. I thought it was you.”

  Rice looked down at her in surprise but didn't seem alarmed. “What? Why did you want to do a thing like that?”

  “I just told you.” Brea pouted up at him. “I did it for you, for us. You said you'd marry me if you didn't already have a wife.”

  Rice let out a short laugh as if in disbelief. “I didn't tell you to kill her,” he said.

  “Not in so many words, but I knew you wanted her out of the way. I figured I'd do it for you so you wouldn't have to. You know, sort of like a proxy.” She seemed pleased she had come up with a sophisticated idea. When he didn't respond, she acknowledged the gun in his hand by nodding at it. “You're going to kill her now, aren't you?”

  “Well, now, I guess that depends on how everyone behaves,” he answered, but Edna knew by the hardness of his eyes that none of them would leave that house alive if Rice had his way. He can’t let any of us go, not even Brea, she thought. We all know too much, and Brea is a loose cannon.

  She was standing close enough to the stained glass circle now that she would be able to reach it easily, but she didn't want to make her move while Rice was pointing the gun. She needed a distraction.

  “Go see if you can find something in the kitchen to tie them up with,” Rice said to Brea, moving his hand to her back and giving her a shove. “Be quick.”

  As Brea stumbled through to the kitchen on the uneven wood floor, Rice waggled the gun at Anita, motioning her to move closer to Yonny who was now standing almost directly between Edna and Rice. Edna hadn't wanted to be blocked completely, since she had to watch Rice very closely. He pulled one of two straight-backed chairs from against the wall and placed it in the middle of the room. “Sit,” he ordered Anita as he stepped back to grab the matching chair.

  Instead of sitting, Anita put her arms out to Yonny, turning her face into his chest as he moved to her. Edna realized that they felt the same as she, that Rice wasn't going to let them live. Yonny put his arms around Rice's wife, pulling her against him and lowering his forehead to the top of her head. When Yonny moved, he blocked Edna's view of Rice but gave her full view of the front door and the window beside it. In that fleeting moment, she nearly gasped when she caught sight of Ernie's face disappearing beneath the sill.

  Her heart began to pound. How long had he been outside? What was he up to? Was he going to come crashing through the door? She was about to grab for the glass circle when Brea came tottering into the room, her heels clicking on the floor boards. “Will this do?” She held what looked like a climber's rope in her hands.

  “That'll do fine, Sweet Pea,” Rice said, setting the second chair back to back with the first in the middle of the floor. “Bring it over here.” Turning to Anita, he growled, “I told you to sit.” He wagged the gun at Anita and Yonny. “Both of you. Over here.”

  Edna was frantic. She had to move soon. Where was Ernie? Why didn't he come through the door? What was he waiting for?

  At the moment she decided she couldn't wait any longer, she heard a commotion in the direction of the kitchen and turned to see Greta come bounding into the room. Dropping her tote and grabbing the glass artwork, Edna stepped away from Yonny as she brought the disk across her body before flinging it out of her hand, aimed at Rice's chest.

  Edna's motion must have caught his attention, because as the makeshift Frisbee came hurtling toward him, Rice bent backwards at his waist, dodging the missile. At the same moment, Greta jumped, her front paws landing in the middle of Brea's back. With a scream, she crashed into the chairs, falling in their midst, face forward to the floor.

  Yonny, seizing the opportunity, leaped at Rice and spun him around while the older man was still off balance. The stronger rock climber threw his right shoulder against Rice's upper body, grabbing the gun arm at the wrist with both hands and forcing the barrel down towards the floor.

  Greta, seeing her master struggling with a stranger, clambered over Brea's back and dove into the two men, knocking them backwards. Rice landed half on top of Yonny, but by that time, Greta had his wrist in her mouth. He dropped the gun with a howl. Entering from the kitchen, Ernie lumbered across the room and stooped to pick it up.

  Twenty-Two

  By the time the struggling stopped, the wail of sirens could be heard, and soon the tiny house was packed with uniformed police, both men and women. Escorted by one of the officers and followed by Greta, Yonny went into the back yard to give his statement. Edna and Anita were asked to step out front where each of them was seated in a different patrol car to be questioned. The whirling lights were finally extinguished, and curious neighbors were asked to return to their homes, where they pushed aside curtains or stood in their gardens to watch the show.

  Ernie remained inside with the police and later reported to Edna that Brea kept demanding to be released because she had never meant to hurt Lia. She'd thought the woman was Anita, and besides that, she'd only done it because Rice practically told her to.

  Rice Ryan remained mute and stony-faced, but if looks could kill, Brea would have been dead on the spot. Both Brea and Rice were cuffed and stored in separate vehicles to be transported to the Boulder County jail.

  As the crowd in the tiny house diminished, Yonny came back inside to join Edna and Anita, who had given up their seats in the patrol cars to Brea and Rice. Ernie used the house phone to contact Paul Hartley, Mrs. Maitland's lawyer and Ernie's client, to give him the good news.

  Although not willing to press charges against Yonny, neither did Anita want to spend any more time in his company. She accepted Edna's offer of a ride back to Denver, and they set off, following Ernie's car back to the city. As they began the slow drive out of the canyon, Edna was surprised to see by the car clock that it was only two in the afternoon. It seemed to her that the entire day must have gone by, as exhausted as she felt.

  “Mr. Hartley says he's arranged for a private jet to fly me to Rochester whenever I can get to the Rocky Mountain Airport.” Anita had just finished talking on her cell phone, finalizing plans to visit her great-aunt, whose health seemed to be improving slightly, according to the lawyer. “Finding out I have a relative is still sort of hard for me to believe,” she confided as she dropped the phone into a canvas tote at her feet.

  “Speaking of relatives,” Edna said, “would you like to go to the hospital and see Grant and his family before you fly off to New York?”

  “I'd love it.” Anita's response lit up her face. “I don't think another hour's delay will make any difference to my travel plans, and I've missed Jillian and Grant and Karissa so much. I wanted to call them a few times, but Yonny convinced me that the call would be traced. He had me so scared I didn't leave that house for the first two weeks I was there. He usually left me alone during the day, so Greta was a welcome companion. I think without her around, I would have gone crazy.”

  “They'll all be delighted to see you. They've been worried. We all have,” Edna added emphatically.

  “What has been going on while I've been secluded?” Before Edna could answer Anita added with tears in her voice, “I was so sorry to hear about Lia. Yonny didn't tell me she'd been killed until two days after her funeral. Can you believe that jerk? He knew she was my best friend.”

  “He probably knew that you would insist on attending her
funeral. He couldn't risk it.”

  “He did treat me well. I have to admit that. He was always a gentleman and never once tried to hit on me. I felt so comfortable with him, so safe. How could I have been such a fool?”

  “How were you to know? I thought he was very charming and sincere, too.” Edna's words were followed by a brief silence while she concentrated on merging south onto Wadsworth Boulevard. Anita stared out the passenger-side window at the foothills.

  Once she had settled more comfortably into the traffic pattern, Edna spoke again, telling Anita all she had learned and the worries they'd had over Anita's disappearance. Edna explained that if it hadn't been for Ernie's persistence, Anita probably wouldn't have been found before her great-aunt was gone.

  “I hope to get a chance to talk with him at length, but that won't be until after I've been to Rochester. Maybe there's something I could do to show how much I appreciate what he did.”

  Edna slid her eyes toward Anita for an instant. “If you'd like my opinion, I have a feeling he'll need help with his wife's medical bills.”

  “Thanks for the tip. I'll definitely see what can be done.”

  As they approached the intersection at 92nd, the light turned red, and Edna could turn to speak directly to Anita without dividing her attention between driving and conversation. She nervously cleared her throat. “There's something else I'd like to ask of you, if I may.”

  “Anything.” The young woman's face lit up. “Just name it.”

  “I'd like you not to mention my part in your rescue to Grant. Not right away, at any rate. Perhaps you could wait until you get back from visiting your great-aunt to give him the whole story. I should be home in Rhode Island by that time, and he'll be busy with the baby and other matters. He probably won't feel the need to scold me by then.” She looked sheepishly at Anita. “And maybe he won't feel the need to speak to his father about my adventures. Albert worries about me, you know, and there's really no need. No need at all.”