Death By Stalking

by Abigail Keam

  It bothered me that Shaneika knew something I didn’t. In fact, it kept me up all night wondering.

  What had Rosie been holding?

  And where was she?

  16

  It was one o’clock in the morning when Asa directed Boris to park the black SUV off the side of the road. If anyone should stop and ask what he was doing, Boris had instructions to say that he had pulled over to make a call.

  The full moon was bright, so Asa didn’t need a flashlight to climb over the dry limestone walls crisscrossing the landscape. She was able to wind her way past curious bovine raising their heads to watch a human trotting through their pasture.

  Asa didn’t worry about stumbling upon horses because most farms brought them in at night, which was good because encountering a startled stallion would be dangerous.

  It was over a mile to the building complex near the Kentucky Horse Park where the antique auction had taken place. Sprinting over the land, Asa could hear the distant yips of dogs alerted to an interloper.

  The barking caused one sleepy person to turn on her outdoor lights and peek out from behind her curtain before stepping out onto the porch, forcing Asa to hide behind a massive old-growth, bur oak tree. The lady scanned the pasture behind her house, and satisfied all was well, praised the dog for protecting the homestead and went back inside, turning off the lights.

  Asa doubled down and ran even faster.

  At last, she reached the compound, which sat off the road, easily scaling the twelve-foot-high chain link fence surrounding it and landing cat-like on the soft earth. The outbuildings of the old Thoroughbred training center provided needed cover, enabling Asa to quickly approach the main building.

  Thank goodness she had the forethought to have Deliah surreptitiously photograph the keypad for the security system, which still operated from a telephone landline, when she photographed the rest of the building. From Deliah’s pictures, Asa was able to memorize the layout of the compound.

  Giving the place a quick perusal, Asa made her way to the back of the building. Disconnecting the security system was child’s play. Taking a small black case from her pocket, she extracted several small tools and unlocked the back door. It creaked ever so slightly as she opened it just enough to squeeze through before slowly easing it shut behind her.

  She needed a light. Reaching up, she switched on a headlamp attached to her mask, quickly making her way through the mass of furniture in the storage area behind the auction stage. It took several minutes to find the two Porter Clay comb-back Windsor chairs.

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Settling gently into one of the chairs, she removed the top quill drawer. With quiet proficiency, Asa extracted the screws holding the lock in place. Laying them on a white cloth she had brought with her, she used her state-of-the-art phone to photograph the screws from different angles and took close-ups.

  Pulling back the cuff of her black sleeve, Asa peeked at her luminous watch. Time was running out. She hurriedly took more pictures of the drawer and the chair.

  As she slid the phone into a pocket, she heard a door slam in the distance. She immediately extinguished her light and hunkered down.

  The night watchman was making his rounds earlier than usual. Now would be a good time to leave, but the lock had to be screwed back and the drawer replaced in its chamber. She would have to accomplish this in the dark.

  Taking off her gloves, she gingerly felt around for the drawer, and once she found it, she lowered it toward herself. So far, so good.

  She felt inside the drawer, finding the lock. Holding her breath, she reached up, carefully searching for the screws. Finding one, Asa pressed the screw into her index finger, hoping the moisture on her skin would hold the metal until she could drop the screw into the drawer.

  It worked!

  Using the same procedure, she lowered two more screws into the drawer.

  The door to the auction room opened!

  Asa froze.

  The room was suddenly bathed in fluorescent light from the guard turning on the lights.

  Asa blinked and tried to adjust her eyes quickly. She needed a place to hide or the guard would find her. Oh boy, would she have a hard time explaining her presence. She would be arrested for breaking and entering for sure.

  Putting a hand over her eyes, Asa spotted a large armoire. She crawled to the armoire and squeezed inside, clutching the quill drawer to her chest.

  Oh no!

  She had forgotten the white cloth and the last screw! There was nothing she could do about that now as the guard was climbing the stage steps.

  Asa left the armoire door open just a tad to observe him make his rounds. If he discovered the white cloth and the missing quill drawer, she would have to create a diversion, allowing her to escape and make her way back to the SUV before the police came. That plan was iffy.

  Or she could sneak up and hit the guard on the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

  Either scenario caused concern and had its drawbacks.

  The guard pushed aside the thick curtain and wandered to the storage area. Asa could see him clearly now. He was a slightly-built older gentleman, probably a retiree who needed to keep busy.

  Asa watched him pick up Waterford goblets from a dining table and examine the tags with the winning auction bids and names of the new owners. The guard shook his head at the prices before giving a sharp whistle, and gently placed the goblets down.

  Asa smiled at the guard’s astonishment. He was right. Spending outrageous amounts of money on these old things was ridiculous when that money could be spent on helping others, but Asa was like her mother in this respect. The past needed to be preserved, lest we forget it.

  The guard passed out of Asa’s view. She opened the armoire door slightly wider so she could hear the guard. To Asa’s surprise, she heard yawning, squeaking and rustling, and the sounds of shoes dropping to the floor.

  The night watchman was taking a nap!

  Now what?

  Asa tried remembering the layout of the room. She closed her eyes, trying to visualize it. There were three couches by the back door. That’s probably where the guard was.

  Closing the door of the armoire, Asa turned on her headlight and put the lock back into place. Inspecting her work, Asa was satisfied no one would be able to tell the lock had been removed.

  She just needed to replace that last screw. Taking a deep breath, Asa turned off her light and slid out of the armoire on her belly while holding the quill drawer. Slowly, she wiggled over to the Windsor chair, stopping every now and then, listening for the guard.

  He was snoring.

  That’s a good boy, Asa thought as she reached up, retrieving the last screw. She quickly twisted it in place. Putting on her gloves, she wiped down the drawer before replacing it back in the chair and grabbing the white cloth. Asa crawled over to the stage curtain, slipped under, and let herself out the front door.

  She made her way back to the SUV in record time.

  Boris looked at his watch. “You’re late, Boss. I was getting worried. You run into some trouble?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Asa said, peeling off her balaclava mask.

  “You got what you needed?”

  “Hope so, but if my hunch is correct, it’s a motive for murder!”

  17

  “There are lies, damned lies . . . and statistics.” That’s a quote from Mark Twain, but it certainly resonated with me.

  The fact someone went out of their way to lie about me to the police had me in a dither, but that took second place to having Detective Drake accuse me of lying about Rosie. I may be nosy and I may be sneaky, but I’m not a liar.

  You—stop laughing.

  I do lie, but not for the important stuff.

  He hauled me to the police station several times, and each time, I clammed up and waited for Shaneika to come to my rescue.

  Was it my fault they couldn’t find Rosie? I hadn’t seen her since she g
ot out of Dodge, so to speak. I didn’t think it was a neighborly thing to do, not that Gage didn’t deserve it. He did, but I certainly didn’t deserve all the hassle coming my way.

  The cosmic question was—if I did know where Rosie was hiding, would I tell the police? I’m not sure.

  Gage had harassed Rosie for years. How much grief can a human being take before they finally lash out at their tormentor? How much should someone be expected to take? I know I would have killed my own stalker if I thought I could have gotten away with it. Fortunately, someone killed him for me, but I can’t deny I wanted him dead. Real dead.

  So, what are the lies and then the damned lies Twain was talking about? They are the little lies we tell ourselves so we can sleep at night.

  I’m a good person. Very few humans are good. Most of us just haven’t gotten caught being bad, that’s all.

  I’m sorry. The only thing most people are sorry about is that they did get caught . . . being bad.

  I could never murder. Anyone is capable of murder. Hate and fear are powerful motivators for wanting someone out of the way. Did I mention money and lust as motivators, too?

  The good news is that most of us don’t kill, but we do ruminate on it from time to time.

  Come on now, don’t we?

  The question is, did Rosie do it?

  I don’t know, but she wasn’t helping her case by disappearing. Wherever Rosie was, the police would catch up with her sooner or later.

  And as it turned out, they did.

  18

  I was in the barn giving Morning Glory a rubdown when I heard the sirens. The piercing sound of the sirens caused Morning Glory to nicker and bob her head in an agitated manner.

  “I know, girl. They bother me, too.”

  When finished, I led her out in the paddock, turning her loose. It was then I saw red and blue lights flashing from June’s property. Fearing someone had been hurt, I jumped into my beat-up golf cart and rushed over, but was stopped by a cop at the gate between our two properties.

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t come in,” said the officer.

  “What’s happened? Is anyone hurt?” I asked, expecting to learn that my daughter had accidentally shot herself in the foot while cleaning her Glock, or June had succumbed to a stroke due to her smoking.

  What I did not expect to see was Rosie being led out of the foaling barn in handcuffs by Norbet Drake, nor did I expect to see Charles, also in cuffs, standing by a squad car.

  I yelled, “Charles! Charles!”

  Hearing his name, Charles looked up in my direction and yelled back, “Josiah, feed Rosie’s animals. I’m counting on you.”

  I didn’t get a chance to answer before Charles was placed in the back of a police vehicle and whisked off.

  My heart sank.

  I knew what this meant.

  Charles had hidden Rosie in the foaling barn, which meant he had been arrested for harboring a fugitive.

  I zeroed in on the Big House, where I spied Asa, Boris, Bess, and June standing on the pool patio watching.

  Did they also know Rosie had been hiding in the barn?

  I saw Norbet Drake march up the pathway to the patio, speak with June, and motion to his men.

  The gathering retreated inside June’s house. Drake followed, after ordering his men to surround the house with one posted at every exit.

  I couldn’t pass the police barricade, so I had no choice but to return home. It was about six before Bess called to tell me the last police car had exited June’s property. I immediately sped over in my little golf cart and joined them by the pool to drown our sorrows in Mint Juleps.

  I can honestly say my drink tasted flat.

  What had Mark Twain said about lies and damned lies? They sure kill the taste buds.

  19

  I couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?”

  Asa took a sip of her watery drink with its melted ice cubes. “I think we are in shock.”

  “You? In shock, Asa? Was hiding Rosie in the barn your idea?”

  “I didn’t know, Mother.”

  I gave her the “I think you are lying big time” mother look.

  Turning my attention to June, I said heatedly, “If Charles wasn’t alone in hiding Rosie, Drake is going to come back and arrest all of you as accessories, and Lord knows what else he might throw into the soup.”

  Ignoring me, June leaned over and tapped Boris on the shoulder. “Young man, may I borrow one of your coffin nails?”

  Exasperated, I threw my hands up in the air.

  June sniffed the cigarette handed to her. “Smells like Turkish tobacco.” She looked to Boris for confirmation.

  He gave a short nod.

  “Bess, are you going to let June smoke cigarettes?”

  “Jo, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. If Miss June wants to smoke cancer sticks, that’s her business. Right now, I’m figuring out how to tell my mother that her husband is not coming home tonight because he’s in jail for harboring a fugitive.”

  June inhaled deeply and blew smoke rings.

  “You didn’t know?” I asked June.

  June’s reply was a smoke ring blown into my face.

  I coughed a couple times, waving the smoke away.

  “I didn’t,” replied Bess. “Daddy’s always had a fondness for Rosie and wanted something done about Gage. I can see him thinking arresting Rosie was a miscarriage of justice.”

  Asa tapped the patio table. “I think we are missing an important point here.”

  We gave Asa our undivided attention.

  “The question is not that Rosie was hiding in June’s barn, but who snitched on her? Whoever snitched on Rosie threw Charles into the mix as well. So again, who fingered Rosie and Charles?”

  “Perhaps Charles was with Rosie when the police entered the barn?” I suggested.

  “Daddy was in the stallion barn when the police came. I got hold of him via the landline in the barn. Daddy doesn’t like to take his phone around the horses. He’s afraid he’ll accidentally drop it, and a horse will ingest it.”

  “There’s always the chance Mr. Charles didn’t know Miss Rosie was here,” Boris offered.

  It was apparent June didn’t want to discuss Charles any longer. She crushed out her half-smoked ciggy. “Bess, don’t worry. My lawyer is already working on their behalf. Charles will be home by tomorrow afternoon. You go to your mother. I’ll call later.”

  “Are you sure, Miss June?”

  “Absolutely. Now scat. Be with your mother. She must be worried sick.”

  “Don’t worry, Bess. Boris and I will take care of Miss June until this thing is settled. We’ll call you if there is a need.”

  Bess rose. “Miss June’s medication is already laid out, and there’s plenty of food in the fridge. Labeled quiches and casseroles are in the freezer. All you have to do is thaw them and then bake for thirty minutes at 350 degrees.”

  “Get going, Bess,” June ordered.

  “I think I will, but I’ll call tomorrow to see how everyone is.”

  June said, “Vamoose. Get out of here.”

  “I’ll just get my purse and go.” Bess gave June one last glance before heading for the Big House.

  “I don’t know what worries Bess more—her father being arrested or that someone besides herself will be rummaging through her kitchen,” June said.

  I took a sip of my drink and turned my gaze toward the horse barns in the distance. Had someone working on the farm turned in Rosie with the ultimate goal of getting at Charles? Even that could have a disturbing purpose.

  What if their real goal was to gain access to June?

  Getting Charles out of the way would certainly make June more vulnerable to jewelry theft, horse tampering, or even kidnapping for ransom.

  Boris was apparently thinking along the same lines. He pulled his Glock out and checked the clip.

  Asa said, “Miss June, I think we should move you out of the
Big House. You shouldn’t stay here tonight.”

  “Folderol!” June waved her hand in the air as if swatting a fly.

  “I’m packing a bag for you, and then we’re leaving. Don’t argue with me,” Asa insisted. She hurried into the house while Boris stationed himself where he could observe all entry points to the pool area.

  Well! Things certainly got more interesting real fast.

  20

  Amelia, Bess, and I were sitting in the courtroom for Charles’ arraignment. Charles was brought in and sat with the other prisoners waiting for their turn with the judge.

  I scanned the room and found Norbet Drake seated behind the Commonwealth DA. I caught his eye and nodded, but he stared back with his lizard eyes, never blinking until the prosecutor whispered to him, causing Drake to turn around.

  “All rise.”

  The three of us jumped to our feet as the judge strode in.

  “The Honorable Judge Maureen Lassetter presiding. Be seated.”

  We sat down and waited until Charles was called. June’s lawyer tangled with the DA about the bail amount, but the DA won out. Bail was set at fifty thousand dollars, which meant Charles had to pay ten percent to get out of the hoosegow. He turned and waved to us before being led out of the courtroom.

  June’s lawyer came and instructed Amelia and Bess to wait downstairs momentarily, as he was going to pay the bail. No doubt, June had instructed him to pay any amount, and Charles would be home before lunch.

  Saying a crisp goodbye, Amelia and Bess left, but I stayed for Rosie’s arraignment. She wasn’t so lucky. She was remanded into custody until her trial and was led from the courtroom sobbing.

  Apparently, Gage’s influence reached Fayette County. He must have some long arms. Nursing a churning stomach, I picked up my purse and rushed out.

  I had to get out of there.

  21