by J A Whiting
Angie ignored the man and rushed further into the room. “Circe! Mr. Finch!” She peered under the seats, looked behind the podium, spun about trying to find Finch or the cat. Thrumming started to beat in her veins. She stopped short, and then turned slowly in a circle. She saw a partially closed door on the other side of the room. She hurried over, and grabbed the knob.
“No one’s supposed to be in here now.” The man called to Angie. “Miss, you need to go back to the main reception room.”
Angie shouted, “Call the police.” She pushed open the door and stepped into a dark hallway. Sweat trickled down her back. She edged along the space. “Mr. Finch! Circe!” She caught herself in mid-yell realizing she was foolishly announcing her presence.
After advancing down the hall several yards, Angie heard the meow of a cat. She ran forward and again heard Circe’s mew. It came from a room on the right side of the hallway.
She peeked into the large space that was decorated as a den and she saw Circe leaning over Mr. Finch prone on the Oriental rug in front of a massive desk. Angie’s blood roared in her ears. She rushed forward and knelt. She felt for a pulse. The side of Mr. Finch’s head was covered in blood.
Angie whispered. “Mr. Finch.” She could feel the faint beat of a pulse on his neck. “Who did this?” she mumbled.
Circe licked the man’s cheek.
“Good Girl.” Angie’s voice trembled. “Sweet cat.”
She pulled out her phone and placed an emergency call for an ambulance and then she texted Jenna. While she sat on the floor next to Mr. Finch holding his hand and whispering his name, tears formed in Angie’s eyes and fell, one by one, onto the older man’s wrinkled face.
After several minutes passed, which seemed like hours to Angie, she heard Jenna’s voice shouting for her. She directed her sister to the den by calling out.
Jenna rushed in, her eyes wide, her face pale. She knelt beside Angie. “Is he…?”
“He’s alive. I can feel his pulse.”
Mr. Finch stirred. He turned his head to the side and coughed. His eyes popped open and he winced. “What…?”
“It’s okay.” Angie squeezed his hand. “Medical help is on the way. You hit your head. You’re going to be fine.” She didn’t think Finch hit his head at all, but she wanted him to remain calm.
Finch blinked his eyes and shifted his gaze about the room. He looked at the girls and kept his voice low. “Someone hit me. Hard. On the head. I went down. And now, here I am.”
Angie’s lips turned up in a little grin. “So you are. You had me worried.”
Finch’s voice was hoarse. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Miss Angie.”
Jenna tried to lighten the mood. “Did you get a punch in before you went down, Mr. Finch?”
“I don’t recall, but I certainly hope so.” He managed a smile.
Circe licked the man’s face again and lay across Finch’s chest.
“My protector.” Finch’s eyes were soft looking at the black cat. He stroked the soft fur of her back.
“Did you get a look at who hit you?” Angie’s forehead was creased.
“I’m afraid I did not.” Finch put a hand to his forehead. “I feel a bit woozy.”
Courtney and Ellie rushed in and joined the others on the floor.
Courtney ran her hand gently over Finch’s cheek. “You’re not supposed to take on the bad guys single-handedly, you know.”
Finch smiled at the young, honey-blonde next to him. “Sometimes I can’t help myself.”
Ellie tried to say something, but her voice cracked and she remained quiet. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Finch saw Ellie’s distress. “Now, now, Miss Ellie. I’m a tough old bird.”
“I’m supposed to be comforting you.” Ellie blubbered.
A police officer rushed in, followed by the emergency medical techs who shooed the girls and the cat to the side while they checked Mr. Finch. Bethany, Senator Winston, and three people Angie didn’t know hurried into the room.
Bethany gasped when she spotted Finch’s bloody head.
The techs sat Finch up and tended to the whack at the side of his head, determining that some stitches would be needed. They loaded him onto a stretcher.
“I’m going with him.” Ellie moved forward. She pulled the car keys out of her small handbag and handed them to Jenna.
“Can I come, too, Mr. Finch?” Courtney winked at him. “I’ve never ridden in an ambulance.”
“I’d be pleased to have your company, Miss Courtney.”
Courtney bent and picked up Mr. Finch’s cane, and for a second, as she held it, a little buzz of electricity pulsed in her hand, and then the sensation was gone. Angie felt something in the air and made eye contact with her youngest sister. Courtney looked down at the walking stick, turned back to Angie, and shrugged.
As the entourage left the room, Jenna called to the techs. “Take good care of him.”
The officer took statements and then told Jenna and Angie, “Chief Martin is meeting Mr. Finch at the hospital to question him about what happened.”
Angie nodded and the officer stepped to the other side of the room to speak with Senator Winston. She noticed Detective Lang, the police official she’d met at the crime scene. She raised an eyebrow. He nodded to her and walked over.
“I didn’t think detectives answered emergency calls.”
Lang spoke softly. “There was an earlier call from this residence. An anonymous caller. Someone reporting that they’d seen a gun in Kimberley Hutchins’ handbag.”
Angie remembered feeling odd when she was talking with Kim. “And? Did you find anything?”
“I spoke with her shortly before we came in here.” Lang made a small gesture toward the floor where Finch had fallen. “Ms. Hutchins’ purse was empty. She was upset about being searched.” He glanced over at the police officer and excused himself.
Bethany moved to stand next to Angie and Jenna. “Finch must have seen something. Or heard something. It must be Nelson’s killer who did this.” Her fingers shook as she placed her hand against the side of her face.
Angie took a look around the room. There were two leather chairs placed in front of three wide windows that overlooked the lawn and flower gardens. There was the huge desk in the middle of the room and a large leather sofa against the back wall. Behind the desk were built-in bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes. She shifted her gaze to the back right corner of the room where a white staircase with gleaming wooden treads stood.
Angie startled. Euclid sat at the bottom of the steps. He arched his back, hissed, and raced up the stairs.
Angie and Jenna rushed to the staircase with Bethany at their heels. The police officer and Detective Lang noticed the girls hurry and followed after.
Senator Winston blustered. “What’s going on?”
The stairs led to a second floor room with white walls, white sofas, and a wall of huge plate glass windows with views of the back of the property. Euclid sat in front of a closed closet door.
“What is it, Euclid?” Angie’s head buzzed. Her palms were clammy and she felt drops of sweat trickling down the side of her face. She took shaky steps towards the cat. Jenna was inches from her sister’s back.
Bethany followed. “What’s going on? What’s with the cat?”
The police officer put his hand on the handle of the gun in his holster. “Hold on. Step back. I’ll open it.” He moved forward and reached for the doorknob.
Euclid stepped away.
The officer pulled the door open.
The closet was empty.
Except for the gun lying on the middle of the floor.
Chapter 15
Jenna and Angie drove to the hospital and picked up Mr. Finch and their sisters from the emergency room. Finch was given twenty stitches and some pain medication. On the way home, he sat on the van’s second row of seats with two, furry guards sitting next to him. One was a sleek, black cat and the other was a huge orange boy wh
ose tail lay across Finch’s lap.
The girls insisted that the older man stay overnight with them at the Victorian and, since there was time before everyone headed off to bed, they escorted Finch into the living room where they brought him tea and cookies, a fluffy, soft pillow, and a cozy blanket to drape over his legs. The cats perched on either side of him.
“Strange,” Finch said. “But I have a craving for boiled eggs.”
Shortly after his statement, Ellie carried in a tray with several hard-boiled eggs, a salt shaker, and buttered toast.
The girls sat down around Mr. Finch except for Courtney who sprawled on the floor in front of the sofa with a bowl of cereal. They discussed the strange events of the late afternoon and evening.
“What were you doing just before you went down?” Jenna asked. “Do you recall what happened right before you got bonked on the head?”
Finch looked off across the room trying to remember. “Things are fuzzy.”
“The doc said you might remember more as days pass.” Courtney spooned cereal into her mouth. “Your brain got jarred. It needs some time to rest and heal.”
“I do recall wandering around the main living room listening to conversations. Something caught my ear.” Finch thought for a moment. “But its significance eludes me.”
“You’ll remember eventually.” Ellie poured more tea into his cup.
“I went into the room where the memorial was held. There were people here and there around the room, chatting in small groups. I recall going into the hallway that led to the den. If someone questioned why I was there, I planned to say I was in need of a bathroom. But I can’t remember what drew me into the hall.”
“Were the cats with you then?” Angie asked.
“No, they weren’t. They must have sensed my distress and found me after the attack.”
Euclid trilled at the man.
Mr. Finch rubbed his temple as he gave the orange cat a slight smile.
Jenna noted the fatigue on Mr. Finch’s face. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for the day. Why don’t we talk about something else? Something more pleasant.”
Angie’s phone buzzed and she reached to the coffee table to pick it up. She read the text.
“What is it?” Ellie saw the look on her sister’s face.
“It’s Chief Martin. Preliminary inspection indicates that the gun found in the closet at the Winston’s rental house is consistent with the weapon involved in Nelson Rider’s murder.”
“So.” Courtney put her empty bowl on the table. “Who hid it there? Was it Kim?”
“And who called in the anonymous tip to the police about her having a gun in her purse?” Ellie held her hands in her lap. “Was it a hoax or was it legit?”
“And why hide the gun there?” Jenna tapped her index finger against her chin.
“All of the people on our list of suspects were attendees at the memorial.” Angie pondered. “Any one of them could have tried to dispose of the murder weapon by hiding it in the rental mansion.”
“It makes sense to hide it there.” Ellie’s fingers worried at the ends of her long hair. “If it was well-hidden, which it wasn’t, it may have been some time before someone discovered it.”
“My bet is that Mr. Finch interrupted the hiding of the gun, so the person had to be quick and haphazardly placed it in the closet.” Courtney stretched out on the floor. “Maybe the person intended to return later and hide it properly.”
“That’s good thinking.” Jenna nodded. “Let’s talk about the suspects. Let’s go over what we know.”
“For me, a strong suspect is Bethany Winston.” Ellie listed her reasons. “She is smart, resourceful, and determined. She loves Todd Moore and did not want to marry Nelson. She was backed into a corner. Her father seems to have directed her entire life. She probably felt desperate. Eliminate Nelson and be free. Plus, Bethany’s a lawyer. She knows how trials and evidence work. She could easily have planned the murder since she must have known when Nelson was in his bungalow.”
“What about Todd Moore?” Courtney scratched Circe’s cheeks. The black cat had jumped off the sofa and curled next to Courtney on the floor. “He sure had reason to want Nelson dead. Nelson was going to marry the woman he loves.”
Jenna said, “What about the threatening letter that Todd got? Who sent it? The sender could be responsible for Nelson’s murder. Maybe Todd is next on the person’s hit list.”
“I didn’t think of that.” Angie’s eyes were wide. “Todd could be in danger.”
“Don’t forget that we saw Todd and Kimberley in a heated discussion on the terrace of the restaurant down near the beach.” Jenna reminded the group. “What was that about? Are those two working together?” No one had an answer to that. “Who do you think is the most likely suspect?” Jenna poured herself some tea from the pot on the table. “Ellie thinks its Bethany. Does anyone else feel strongly one way or the other?”
Angie sighed. “I’m just not sure. Bethany worries me. She seems to have an answer for everything. But then, there’s Kimberley, the spurned other woman. Maybe she was infuriated by Nelson’s treatment and she decided to finish him off. And, what about Nelson’s family? Nelson made costly mistakes at the family firm and it doesn’t sound like it was an isolated error. Could his brother or sister have tired of his foolishness and got rid of him once and for all?”
Mr. Finch held his cup and saucer on his knee. “As yet, no one person stands out. Do we know where these suspects were the night of the murder? Where were they at the time Nelson was killed?”
The girls looked at Finch with blank expressions.
“Perhaps Chief Martin should be consulted,” Mr. Finch suggested. “Are alibis solid? Is there someone who doesn’t have an alibi? Who has knowledge of guns and how they operate? Mr. Rider was killed with a shot to the head. I assume that the man was asleep at the time since the killer used a pillow to help silence the shot. It wouldn’t require much skill to shoot a sleeping man, but it would require some familiarity with a gun.”
“I’ll talk to the chief tomorrow.” Angie felt remiss for not coming up with those questions herself. She looked at Mr. Finch. “Do you have suspicions about anyone in particular?”
“Yes, I do.”
The four girls leaned forward waiting for Finch to reveal his suspect.
“The person who knocked me over the head.”
The front door of the Victorian opened and Kimberley Hutchins walked into the foyer, the key to her B and B room in her hand. She spied the gathering in the living room and nodded to them.
Euclid arched his back and hissed. Kim looked at the cat with a worried expression. Her eyelids looked heavy with fatigue. She headed for the staircase to go to her room, but she stopped before heading up and looked over at Mr. Finch. “I heard you got hurt at the service. Are you doing okay?”
“Yes, thank you.” Mr. Finch managed a smile. “I’m nearly as good as new.”
“Glad to hear it.” Kimberley nodded. She put her hand on the banister and trudged up the stairs.
Circe emitted a low growl.
When they heard the door to Kim’s room open and close, Jenna made eye contact with her sisters and Finch. She whispered. “Suspect number one?”
The doorbell rang.
“We have a revolving door here on this house.” Courtney pushed herself up from the floor. “Any guesses who this is?” She walked through the foyer and pulled the door open. Bethany and Senator Winston bustled in past Courtney.
“We’re looking for Mr. Victor Finch,” the Senator announced without looking at Courtney. His face was slightly flushed. When he spotted Finch sitting on the sofa in the room off of the foyer, he put his hand on the small of Bethany’s back and the two hurried into the living room.
Ignored by the Winstons, Courtney rolled her eyes and mouthed. “Hello. Lovely evening. Do come in.” She closed the front door and joined the others.
“So sorry for your accident.” Senator Winston sat down
across from Finch.
“It was an attack, I’m afraid, not an accident.” Finch corrected the man.
“Attack? A strong word.” The Senator shook his head. “It must have been a misunderstanding of some kind.”
“I’m not sure what kind of a misunderstanding would result in Mr. Finch being pummeled in the head and knocked unconscious.” Courtney pulled a side chair forward and sat next to the Senator.
Bethany put her hands in her lap. “My father means that whoever caused Mr. Finch’s injury must have thought he was an intruder, or some such thing.”
“An intruder? If that was the case,” Ellie sniffed, “wouldn’t the person have questioned Mr. Finch before deciding to strike him?” She leveled her eyes at the Winstons and her voice carried a tone of authority. “It was an attack.”
“The police will get to the bottom of it.” The Senator dismissed Ellie’s comment and looked at Mr. Finch. “In the meantime, is there some way we can be of assistance to you?”
“How do you mean?” Finch’s eyebrows knitted together.
“In any way necessary.” The Senator leaned slightly forward. “Do you need some recuperation time? We know several very nice spots in lovely areas of the world that would provide you with the needed luxury and attention to help you recover. We’d be more than happy to make some calls and arrange the time away for you. Bring a friend along.”
Finch bristled. Perhaps Senator Winston was making the generous offer because he wanted to nip a potential lawsuit in the bud, worried that the older man might decide to sue them since the injury took place at the house they were renting. Whatever the motive, Finch did not like the sensation of being bought-off. “There is nowhere on earth where I would be better cared for than right here.” He gestured towards the sisters.
The Senator chuckled, and then caught himself, realizing that Finch was serious. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “At the very least, we’d be happy to take care of your medical bills. Don’t hesitate to let us know. Whatever you need, we’ll manage it for you.” Senator Winston removed a card from his wallet and placed it on the coffee table. “Call anytime, anytime at all.” He moved to get up.
