by Bobbi Holmes
“Since they didn’t get the money you promised them, now they’re going after Danielle.”
“They’re suing her?” Agatha asked.
“For your wrongful death. Which one of them may have facilitated.” Disgusted, Walt flicked his cigar into the air. It vanished.
Agatha began to laugh. “I didn’t think they’d consider doing that. Joyce is so terrified Danielle will change her mind and press charges for taking the coins.”
“Are you saying you approve?” Walt asked.
Agatha looked at Walt and chuckled. “Of course. They have every right to sue. I fell on Danielle’s property, and it’s perfectly normal to sue in a case like this. Good for them.”
“So you think it’s right for a murderer to seek damages from the owner of his crime scene?” Walt asked incredulously.
“Who said anyone was murdered? Accidents happen.” Agatha vanished.
“That really did not surprise me,” Danielle said when she walked back into the room. Glancing around, she saw only Walt. “Where did she go?”
“I have no idea. You certainly aren’t going to give them any money, are you?”
Danielle let out a sigh and took a seat. “Actually, Walt, I called my insurance agent on Tuesday. He’s already expecting this.”
“You didn’t mention anything.”
Danielle shrugged. “To be honest, considering the circumstances, I wasn’t convinced there would be a lawsuit. For one thing, at the time I thought the family was inheriting Agatha’s imaginary fortune, and I figured if one of them was involved, they wouldn’t like too much attention on the circumstances of her death. You never know what will come out in court. Plus, I figured Joyce might be hesitant to bring a case, considering our history. Of course, my insurance agent didn’t agree with me, and it looks like he’s right.”
“Sounds like they want to settle out of court. But five million seems rather excessive. I would think if damages were awarded in a court case, it would be considerably lower.”
Danielle nodded. “I agree. I know this sounds horrible, but in cases like this, when determining the settlement, the courts take into account the person’s age and income potential. We’re talking about an elderly woman with absolutely no income potential.”
“You’re right. Reducing someone’s worth to what they might earn sounds horrible.”
Danielle shrugged. “But it’s what they do. I really don’t have a problem paying a claim. If someone falls on my property, I understand I can rightfully be sued. Of course, the extent of damages is typically based on if there was some sort of negligence on my part.”
“You certainly aren’t responsible if someone from her own family pushed her.”
“True. But the only reason we suspect foul play is how she landed, along with the fact no one has come forward to admit they helped Agatha up those stairs and left her. If someone had admitted helping her up and leaving her up there alone, it would be easier to assume she fell on her own, regardless of how she landed. Which may or may not make me liable.”
“Hmmm…” Walt narrowed his eyes and stared off into the distance as he considered another possibility. “Perhaps if someone took her up there and left her, maybe they haven’t come forward because they’re afraid the family will sue them.”
“That’s entirely possible. Which would mean whoever Agatha is protecting isn’t a family member.”
“I find it interesting the grandsons claim they want to settle privately, insisting it will save you money, yet they ask for a ridiculous amount. Why do they imagine you’d take their offer?” Walt wondered.
“I have no idea. I’d think hiring an attorney would be more to their advantage. For one thing, people tend to take these types of threats more seriously when delivered by an attorney.”
THIRTY-FIVE
“Why did you ask for five million?” Henry asked Shane. The three brothers sat together at Lucy’s Diner, having a late lunch.
“I was wondering that myself,” Larry said.
“We agreed a million each. We have to give Mom a million, there’s no way around that. And if we cut out Martha at this point, it’s just going to cause problems. She could get Mom to keep the entire thing.”
“Martha didn’t want any part of this, so I don’t see why we need to cut her in.” Henry picked up his soda and took a gulp.
“Maybe Shane has a point,” Larry reluctantly acquiesced. “Sounds like Boatman is going to get her insurance company to pay the claim, and there is no way they’ll pay it to us since we don’t technically represent the estate. We need to get Mom to go along with us, so when she gets paid, we’ll get our share. And you know there’s no way she’s going to cut Martha out of it.”
“The tricky part is to keep Mom from finding out until after we reach a deal with Boatman. At that time, I think it’ll be fairly easy to convince her not to sabotage the deal. When we get to that point, I think we’ll know if Boatman is going to bring up the coins again, or let it go like she has,” Henry said.
“Let’s just hope Boatman doesn’t make an issue of the coins. Mom will be pissed if she ends up facing charges over the coins because of this,” Larry said.
“But it will be worth it,” Shane said. “And come on, Mom will be happy we did this. After all, she’s not such an innocent. She did take those damn coins.”
Henry laughed. “No kidding. I still can’t believe she did that. Just wish she would have held onto them.”
BRIAN HENDERSON DROVE FIRST to the person of interest’s home. He wasn’t there. According to his roommate, he had taken off with his brothers. As Brian drove down main street, he spied Larry Pruitt’s car parked in front of Lucy’s Diner. Making a U-turn, Brian turned back up the street and parked behind Larry’s vehicle.
Just as he got out of his car, he spied the three brothers coming out of the diner. They were laughing, and Shane had just given Henry a pat on the back, followed by another round of laughter by the two youngest brothers. Larry didn’t seem as amused.
“Afternoon,” Brian greeted when the brothers reached Larry’s car.
The three men stopped abruptly and looked at Brian. They seemed surprised to see him, unaware he had already parked behind Larry’s vehicle. They each muttered a halfhearted greeting and were about to get into the car when Brian stopped them.
“Shane, I was hoping you could come down to the station. The chief has a couple of questions he needs to ask you. It shouldn’t take long.” Brian smiled.
“Me?” Shane frowned. “What for?”
“It’s about what you might have seen during the time of your grandmother’s accident. I believe the chief is talking to Ben Smith too. As far as we can tell, you were the only two on the second floor when your grandmother fell.”
“Technically speaking, I didn’t come to the second floor until after she fell. I was up in the attic, looking around, at the time of the accident,” Shane corrected.
“I’m assuming you don’t have your car?” Brian asked.
“No. Larry is driving,” Shane told him.
“You can drive with me. I can take you home afterwards,” Brian offered.
Larry looked at his youngest brother. “I don’t have time to take you all the way over to the police station, it’s on the opposite side of town. I have to drop Henry off and get back to work.”
Shane glanced from his brothers to Brian. “Do I really need to?”
Brian smiled. “I’m afraid so.”
SHANE SAT ALONE in the interrogation room, waiting for the police chief. When Brian had picked him up, he had been under the impression the chief would be talking to him in his office. He didn’t like the interrogation room. It brought up too many bad memories. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he glanced over to the two-way mirror and wondered who was on the other side, watching him.
Five minutes later, Joe Morelli walked through the doorway. In his hand he carried a manila folder.
“I thought the chief wanted to talk to me,” Shane asked
.
“The chief is busy.” Joe tossed the folder on the table and sat down, facing Shane.
“I understand you’re quite the entrepreneur.” Joe opened the folder and flipped through it.
“Not sure what you mean. What does this have to do with Gran’s death?” Shane shifted in the chair again, unable to get comfortable.
“I understand you make a living selling things on eBay.”
“Yeah, what about it? It’s all legal. I mean, I’m not selling drugs or anything. I don’t do that anymore.”
“I see you’ve branched out.”
Shane frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You’re a blogger now. How is that working out for you?”
Shane stared at Joe as if trying to read his expression. “So I have a blog. A lot of people do.”
“But a lot of people don’t tell the world someone is going to die the next day, and when the person dies, the blogger is not only a few feet away, but believes he’s about to inherit millions.”
“Whoa…wait a minute. You think I pushed my grandmother down those stairs?” Shane sat up straight in the chair, shaking his head in denial.
“Right now we have some people at your place with a search warrant, going through your room, your computer—”
“Hey, you can’t do that!” Shane shouted.
“According to the judge who gave us the search warrant, we can.”
“You seriously think I not only killed Gran, but announced I was going to kill her before I did it? What do you think, that I’m an idiot?”
Joe shrugged. “Well, you did believe your grandmother was worth millions.”
“And she wasn’t.” Leaning forward, still sitting on the chair, Shane slammed his open palm on the table. “Which means I didn’t have a motive to kill her. Why would I? And why would I post about it?”
“We all know you weren’t aware your grandmother had misrepresented her estate until after she died. And these days, it’s not uncommon for people to boast online about their crimes. I’m actually surprised you didn’t take a video of her falling down the stairs after you pushed her and then post it on YouTube.”
Shane slumped back in the chair and glared at Joe, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re sick.”
“I’m not the one who pushed my grandma down the stairs and posted about it.”
“Neither did I.”
“Then why don’t you tell me, why did you make that post claiming someone was going to die at Marlow House on the Fourth?”
Shane shrugged. “Marlow House is kind of a creepy place. Ever since Boatman moved in, weird stuff has been happening there, and to her. I just figured I’d cash in on the attention she’s been getting and earn some money with ads. People like stories about haunted houses and curses. And you got to admit that place has to be cursed, considering the crap that’s gone on there. I didn’t really think someone was actually going to die, but I figured with her wearing that necklace again, something was bound to happen, and I could spin it in my next blog post and people wouldn’t even care that my prediction of another death didn’t happen.”
“But there was another death. And you didn’t seem to mind exploiting your grandmother’s tragic death in your blog, did you?”
“I think I want to see a lawyer.”
BRIAN HENDERSON WALKED into the chief’s office, shaking his head. “I figured Shane’s blog post was just a bizarre coincidence. I didn’t seriously think he would be stupid enough to blog about a murder he was about to commit.”
The chief closed the file he had been reading and leaned back in his chair. He watched as Brian tossed a folder on the desk and then sat down.
“So did you actually find something?” The chief leaned forward and picked up the folder Brian had just dropped on his desk.
“You know those television shows about the dumbest criminals?” Brian asked.
MacDonald opened the folder and glanced up at Brian. “Yeah. What about them?”
“Shane Pruitt could have his own series. He didn’t even make an attempt to get rid of his search history. I can’t believe he didn’t realize he might become a suspect and we’d be looking at his computer.”
“What did you find?”
“I suspect a murder mystery writer wouldn’t have as many searches on their computer involving ways to kill people as he does.”
MacDonald arched his brow. “He’s been searching on ways to kill people?”
“One search involved a blood pressure medicine. He wanted to know what other drug—in conjunction with the blood pressure medication—would be lethal. On a hunch, I checked with the local pharmacist and found out Agatha took that particular blood pressure medication.”
Leaning back in his chair, MacDonald let out a low whistle.
“There were extensive searches on methods of poisonings—antifreeze, arsenic. He ran numerous searches looking for poisons that were difficult to detect.”
“But he didn’t poison her,” MacDonald reminded him.
“No. But he also looked up ways to electrocute someone, as well as methods of asphyxiation. And get this—he was looking up how to find a hit man.”
MacDonald arched his brow. “Charming fellow. Was there anything else?”
“He was also doing searches for expensive cars and beach-front property.”
“Shopping?”
Brian nodded. “It looks that way. All the searches on how to kill someone were done before Agatha’s death. The shopping ones, he was still making those as recently as this morning.”
MacDonald flipped through the folder. “I got a call from Danielle a few minutes ago. It seems before you found the Pruitt boys at Lucy’s, they paid a little visit to Marlow House.”
“What about?”
“Now that grandma didn’t pan out, they’re trying to shake down Danielle. They’re threatening to sue her for Agatha’s wrongful death,” MacDonald explained.
“Wouldn’t that be Joyce’s place to do that? Joyce was her beneficiary, not the boys,” Brian asked.
“I think that’s why they went to her and asked to settle it out of court.”
Brian frowned. “I don’t see why that would matter.”
“Like you said, they aren’t the brightest criminals.”
“You think the other brothers are in on this?” Brian asked.
“It’s possible. From what I know about the Pruitt boys, they’ve had their issues with each other. Shane and Henry seem to be the closest. I know they used to work together. They had a business where they purchased used furniture and refinished it. But they had some sort of disagreement and Shane went off on his own and started selling stuff on eBay. Secondhand junk he picked up at garage sales. Larry’s always been the outsider. But they are brothers, and if they went together to see Danielle, I suspect they’re in on this together.”
“If we bring the other two in, split them up, maybe we can get one of them to flip on the others. After all, I don’t think they’ll be thrilled when they learn little brother Shane was foolish enough to be posting about the murder and not clearing his search history.”
THIRTY-SIX
Both Ian and Lily were still at Marlow House when the new guests arrived late Friday afternoon. They were three middle-aged couples, siblings and their spouses. One couple was from Washington state, and the other two couples lived in California. They were in Oregon for a mini family reunion and would be staying until Wednesday.
Shortly after checking in and taking their luggage to their rooms, they left to do a little sightseeing and told Danielle they intended to stop someplace for dinner before they returned.
Lily stood at the living room window and watched as the Suburban, driven by one of the guests, drove off down the street, all three couples on board.
Lily turned from the window and walked to the sofa, where Ian sat. “They seem nice.”
“I wonder what they would think if they knew Marlow House was haunted?” Ian mused.
Danielle, who
sat at the small desk, glanced up from the register she was updating and chuckled. “I always said a haunted house could be a great promotional gimmick. But Walt refuses to play along and provide the necessary ambiance. You know, maybe an occasional lit candelabra floating across the library. That sort of thing.”
“It would be a fire hazard,” Walt said when he entered the room a moment later.
Danielle shrugged and closed the register book.
Lily giggled. “Do we even own a candelabra?”
“We could get one,” Danielle told her.
Tail wagging, Sadie ran into the room the next moment and went straight for Ian. Jumping up on his lap, she swiped a wet kiss across his face.
Ian greeted his dog with several pats to her shoulders and gently nudged her to the floor. “Finished hanging out with Walt? I was starting to feel like second stringer.”
Lily glanced around the room. “Did Walt come in with Sadie?”
“I don’t smell his cigar,” Ian said.
“He’s not always smoking. And yes. He’s over there.” Danielle pointed to the fireplace.
Walt smiled at Danielle.
“This would be a hell of a story,” Ian muttered.
Lily laughed. “Well, that was quick. I was wondering when you would finally admit that.”
“Of course I can’t write it. I understand Danielle wants her privacy, and no one would believe me anyway. It would probably destroy my credibility.” Ian sighed.
“And I thank you,” Danielle said. “I don’t really need that kind of notoriety.”
“You know what is rather amusing?” Ian asked.
Lily glanced to Ian. “What?”
“I thought the big story I wasn’t writing was about billionaire philanthropist Chris Glandon living in Frederickport under the alias Chris Johnson. But the real story—Chris Glandon the medium.”
“And once again I’m shoved aside for that pretty boy,” Danielle said with faux dramatics.
Lily giggled.
Danielle stood up. “Are you guys going to be here for a while?”
“What do you need?” Lily asked.
