by Parnell Hall
“What if I miss the rooster?” Cora said.
“You win a beer. Okay, my turn, my turn.”
“No way,” Cora said. “You had your turn. It’s my turn. Put your guns down. Put your guns down. That’s it. Right there.”
Chief Harper came up behind them and scooped up the guns from the end tables. “All right, boys, what’s going on?”
Don looked up. “It’s a game, Chief.” His eyes widened. “A policeman. Hey, Matt, it’s the cops. Act natural.”
“Okay.”
Matt took acting natural to mean holding himself rigid and not looking in any direction. He frowned. “Why are we hiding from the cops?”
“We’re not hiding from the cops. We’re acting natural.”
“Okay.” Matt’s face clouded. “Whose shot is it?”
“Where’s your wife, Matt?” Chief Harper said.
“Where is my wife?” Matt said. “That is the question. I think she got arrested. That’s right. She got arrested, and we’re gonna bust her out of jail. Just as soon as we get good enough. We’re practicing up, and then we’re going to bust her out of jail.”
“She’s out of jail,” Harper said.
“It worked!” Matt cried happily. He leapt from his chair, teetered on unsteady feet, and plunged headfirst into the pool.
Luckily Don was sober enough to pull him out, otherwise it would have fallen upon Chief Harper or Cora, fully dressed and holding a gun, to make the sacrifice. Just working out the logistics probably would have taken long enough to let the Yankee star pitcher drown. But Don managed to push him close enough to the edge of the pool for Cora and Chief Harper to haul him up. They wrestled him into a lounge chair and put in a call to his wife.
Matt couldn’t remember her number, and Don either couldn’t remember or didn’t want to show off the fact he could remember in front of Matt, which would have required far more cognitive thought than he appeared capable of in his inebriated condition, so Harper called Becky Baldwin, who hadn’t heard from her.
Cora had a sudden premonition that if she were to pull open the sauna door she would find Jackie Greystone’s bullet-ridden body, but that seemed like something out of a mystery novel and way beyond the realm of possibility. Nonetheless, she left Chief Harper in charge of the two drunks, and trudged over to the sauna with mounting dread.
The crime scene ribbon was still up. It was hanging loosely enough that a determined snoop could get the door open wide enough to slip in. Cora didn’t bother to enter. She merely pulled the door open and looked.
The sauna was empty.
Cora heaved a huge sigh of relief and went back to the pool, where Chief Harper was advising the two young gunslingers on why they might not want to call out for pizza.
There came the sound of a car stopping in front of the house.
“The pizza!” Matt cried, struggling to get out of his chair.
“Relax,” Don said. “They deliver.”
Matt’s agent bustled around the side of the house. He took one look, said, “Oh, my God!”
“It’s all right,” Cora said. “We disarmed them.”
“You what!”
“We took their guns.”
“Where’d you get ahold of a gun?” Lenny demanded.
“Wasn’t easy,” Matt said. “Someone hid our guns. But we had a scavenger hunt.”
“Yeah,” Don said. “We had a scavenger hunt and we found a gun. Then we had a gun hunt and we found a scavenger.”
The agent was white as a sheet. “They could have killed themselves!”
“That seems entirely likely,” Cora said. “But Matt just fell in the pool.”
“He fell in the pool!”
“Yeah, but Don jumped in and held his head out of the water until we pulled him up.”
“You pulled him up? By his bad arm?”
That hadn’t even occurred to Cora. But if they’d hurt his arm, he probably wouldn’t have noticed.
“Where’s Jackie?”
“She isn’t here,” Harper said. “We just responded to a report of shots fired.”
“Someone filed a report? Who was it? I’ve gotta talk to them.”
“I don’t know who filed the report. Even if I did, talking to them would not be advisable. It might lead to complications.”
“I don’t see why. No one’s filing any charges, are they?”
“Rookie mistake,” Cora said. “Never be the first one to mention filing charges. If you were a lawyer, you’d know that.”
Lenny might not have heard her. “What were they shooting?” he said to Chief Harper.
“The sauna.”
“Before you freak out, I looked inside and there’s no bullet-ridden body,” Cora said. “At the moment they were thinking of sending out for pizza.”
“Oh, my God!”
“You’re concerned about publicity?”
“Of course.”
“Then you better think fast. That looks like the Channel 8 news van heading up the road.”
Lenny spotted the van, turned on Chief Harper. “They can’t do that. You chased them away.”
“I did. But this is something new. Report of shots fired. It’s breaking news. Of course they can cover it.”
“Oh, my God! Get inside, get inside, get inside!”
Don looked up. “Who’s the spoilsport?”
“That’s my agent,” Matt said. “He’s trying to get me a commercial.”
“A beer commercial? Hey, Lenny, how about a beer commercial?”
“We gotta clean up. Everybody grab beer bottles. Not you guys. You gotta go inside. The news crew can’t see this. They can’t come out back, can they?”
“I wouldn’t expect them to stand on ceremony,” Cora said.
“Clean up, clean up!”
“Yeah,” Harper said. “I don’t really want the news team to find me cleaning up the scene of a drunken debauch.”
Lenny had managed to herd the two pitchers into the house, but as he came back to deal with the beer bottles, they wandered back with him. He gave it up as a lost cause, turned, and fled around the house.
“Think he’ll be able to stop Rick Reed?” Harper said.
“Probably not, but it might be fun to watch.”
Cora followed Chief Harper around the side of the house. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Matt opening up another beer.
Rick Reed’s camera crew was already filming.
“We hear there’s been trouble,” Rick said. “Where’s Matt Greystone?”
“You’ve been misinformed,” Lenny said. “There’s no trouble. Matt Greystone is fine. He’s rehabbing from an injury, and needs his privacy.”
“There’s been the report of a disturbance. Shots fired.”
“Where did you hear that?” Lenny said.
Rick Reed was taken aback. “There was a report.”
“To you?”
“To me? No, not to me.”
“Then I cannot comment on an unsubstantiated report that has been proven wrong.”
“I take it back,” Cora said. “You might make a good lawyer.”
A scream from in back of the house froze them in their tracks. It was a woman’s scream, loud, blood-curdling. In an instant the standoff with the news crew was forgotten, as everyone raced around the house.
Matt and Don were gone, but there was not a chance they’d gone inside. Branches could be heard snapping in the woods. Chief Harper and Cora ran around the pool, guns drawn, ready for anything.
There came a jumble of raised voices.
Matt’s anguished scream cut through all of them. “Noooo!”
A cold chill ran down Cora’s spine. She stumbled, nearly crashed into a tree. She cursed, righted herself, kept going.
Cora burst into the clearing. The first thing she saw was the camera. Rick Reed had sent an auxiliary unit out back in the hope of sneaking shots of the pool. They were clearly the B-team, a man and woman so young Cora might have mistaken them for a college movie
crew had the camera not had a Channel 8 logo.
It was the young woman who had screamed. Now she was making up for it by barking terse orders at the cameraman. She seemed torn between letting the camera cover the scene, and jumping in with a microphone.
Matt Greystone looked stricken. He was leaning against a tree trunk. It seemed to be taking what was left of his wits just to retain his balance.
Don stood regarding the scene. He had his head cocked to one side, and a somewhat bemused expression on his face, as if he’d ordered another round of beer and instead he’d gotten this.
A woman’s body lay in the dirt. Her face and hair were smeared with mulch, dried leaves, and blood. She’d been shot. Her eyes were open, glassy, staring. She was clearly dead.
Lenny burst into the clearing. He took in the scene. He looked as if his entire life had just flashed before his eyes. “Matt?”
Matt Greystone raised his eyes.
Jackie Greystone appeared out of nowhere and flung herself into his arms. In his inebriated state she almost knocked him down, but he clung to her, and the two of them stood there, swaying, holding each other.
Cora looked back at the body on the ground.
The hair, which looked brown covered with dirt and leaves, was actually red.
It wasn’t Jackie Greystone.
It was the witch.
Chapter
43
This time the TV crews wouldn’t leave. They were camped outside the police station, and there were more arriving every minute. This time it was national news, not just local news that gets picked up on the national evening broadcast, but breaking news, the lead story on every twenty-four-hour news network. This was not just an anomaly being reported because it had taken place at a celebrity’s barbecue. This was OJ in the Bronco.
All things considered, Becky Baldwin was holding together remarkably well. It couldn’t have been easy. She had two clients, both of whom looked guilty, and one of whom was still incredibly drunk. Yet she managed to appear as calm as if she were reporting on the PTA luncheon as she fielded a barrage of questions.
“Ms. Baldwin. Are you representing Matt Greystone or Jackie Greystone?”
“I’m representing both of them.”
“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
“Not at all. Their interests are the same.”
“Is that true?” Cora said, after she and Becky escaped into the police station.
“Is what true?” Becky said.
“That their interests are the same?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Becky said. “But we have two separate crimes, the murder of Leon Bratz and the murder of Amanda Hoyt. It’s entirely possible he killed one and she killed the other.”
“How can you say that? You’re their attorney.”
“That’s how I can say that. You’re not going to quote me, are you?”
“You know what would be neat?” Cora said.
“What?”
“If the police charged the wrong one.”
Becky frowned. “What?”
“Well, if they charged Jackie with killing Leon Bratz, and she’s innocent because he did it, and they charge Matt with killing the witch, and he’s innocent because she did it.”
“I fail to see how that helps me.”
“You see exactly how that helps you. You just don’t want to admit it because you’re a lawyer.”
“You’re saying the fact they prosecuted the wrong one means they can’t get a conviction. Not that I would prove one didn’t do it because the other did.”
“Exactly.”
“And I would just keep quiet and allow these murderers to go free.”
“While you deposit their checks, let’s not forget that.”
“I know you’re joking, Cora, but do you have the slightest suspicion that happened?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea what happened.”
The doctor came in the front door.
“Ah, here’s Barney Nathan. Let’s see what he can do about getting your client out of here.”
Matt Greystone was asleep on a cot in the lockup in the back of the police station. Chief Harper had done Becky Baldwin the favor of taking him in on a charge of drunk and disorderly, a charge that would be dropped before arraignment, but that while in effect would allow the young man to escape from the media.
It went without saying that having him in jail would be convenient if the police should decide to proceed against him in the death of Amanda Hoyt.
“Chief, Barney’s here to examine the prisoner.”
“Be my guest,” Harper said. “He’s out back.”
“I’ll have to get into the cell,” Barney said.
“Oh, of course. Dan.”
Dan Finley, who was sorry to have missed out on the second homicide, was eager to pick up what he could from eavesdropping.
Barney, Cora, and Becky followed Dan Finley to the holding cells out back.
Matt Greystone was snoring noisily on the narrow cot in his cell. Dan Finley unlocked the door.
Don was sitting up in the adjoining cell. “That’s right, that’s right,” he said. “Check on the star. Give him medical attention. Never mind the minor leaguer. Let him die, for all you care.”
Barney Nathan went into Matt’s cell. He opened his doctor’s bag, put on his stethoscope, and listened to Matt’s chest.
Barney recoiled from the pitcher’s breath. “Whoa! You don’t have to be a doctor to pronounce this man drunk.”
“How’s his arm?” Cora said. “He’s lying on it kind of funny.”
Barney tried to untangle Matt’s arm. Matt flinched and pulled away.
“It bothers him.”
“Of course it bothers him. That’s a million bucks a start he’s not getting. That would bother anyone.”
Matt’s agent pushed his way in. “How about it, doc? He’s in no shape to face the media. You probably just want to knock him out with a sedative and send him to bed.”
Barney Nathan adjusted his red bow tie, stuck his nose in the air, and cleared his throat.
“Barney usually likes to make his own diagnosis,” Becky said. “But I’m sure he’ll keep that in mind.”
“You stay out of it,” Chief Harper said to Lenny.
“All right,” Barney said. “He’s in no shape to talk to anyone. I could move him to the hospital, but then you’d have to post a twenty-four-hour guard.”
“And the media will report that you did, and be waiting there when he gets out,” Lenny said.
“Oh, I think I can handle that,” Barney said. He walked out of the room, jerking his cell phone from his pocket. He was back minutes later. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go meet the media.”
With Barney Nathan marching ahead, they all trouped out the front door of the police station.
The TV reporters were waiting to pounce.
“Dr. Nathan, were you brought in to examine Matt Greystone?”
“Yes, I was.”
“And what did you find?”
“Mr. Greystone is in no shape to answer questions. He has received a severe shock as a result of having a second violent crime take place on his premises. He finds this overwhelming. This is not surprising. Anyone would. Being exposed to questioning at this time could only result in trauma. As a doctor, I absolutely forbid it. I have ordered bed rest, and I am going to see that’s what he gets.”
“Is it true he’s being held in custody?”
“That’s not my department. I was called upon to examine him in my capacity as a doctor. Questions of that nature are better addressed to other people. I can only speak as to his physical condition with regard to answering questions. And I intend to see that my patient is left alone.”
An ambulance with flashing lights came down the street, turned into the side alley, and drove around to the back of the station.
“Hey, what’s with the ambulance, Doc?”
“Is that for Matt Greystone?”
&nbs
p; “Did you order that?”
“I’m glad you asked me that,” Barney Nathan said. “It gives me a chance to clear up a few things. Now, pay close attention because—”
But the news crews had already caught the scent and were following the ambulance into the alley.
There came the sound of a siren and the flashing of lights, and newsmen jumped for cover as the ambulance hurtled out of the alley and sped off in the direction of the hospital.
The news crews ran for their vans and took off in hot pursuit.
“They’re going to catch up!” Lenny said.
“Oh, I doubt that,” Barney said.
“They’ll film him checking in! It will be a disaster! It’s not enough he’s a murder suspect, he’ll come off like an idiot!”
“I certainly hope not,” Barney Nathan said. “You better get over there to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Lenny gave him a look, then ran across the street and took off in his car.
“You going to meet them at the hospital, Barney?” Chief Harper said.
The doctor smiled, snapped his red bow tie. “No, I think I’ll go home and have a drink. My job here is done.”
“What!”
“Well, almost done. I have to check on one thing.”
The doctor went back into the police station. Cora, Becky, Dan, and the chief tagged along after him. Dr. Nathan walked through the outer office and made his way down the back hallway to the holding cells.
Don Upton was still sitting on his cot.
Matt Greystone was passed out on his.
“Ah, excellent,” Barney said. “The patient is asleep, my work is done. I think I’ll have that drink.”
He grinned, turned on his heel, and walked out.
Cora’s face cracked into a smile. “I’ll be damned!” she whispered.
Chief Harper turned to her. “Are you telling me he did that for you?”
“Don’t be silly,” Cora scoffed. “Barney still crosses the street when he sees me coming. Trust me, he wouldn’t do anything for me.”
“So, what’s so funny?”
“I just figured it out.”
“What’s that?”
Cora grinned. “He’s a Yankee fan.”
