A Deadly New Year: A Mt. Abrams Mystery (The Mt. Abrams Mysteries)

by Dee Ernst

  “What did Detective Stuart ask you, specifically?” He finally said.

  “Just to not let the Bishops or Ms. Townsend know who else would be here. She’s coming by here in a few minutes, by the way. She said she’d stop by around ten. She wants to talk to you both.”

  I sat up a little straighter. “Me? What does she want with me?”

  Sam shot me a smile. “I told her we were a team.”

  I think I melted a little bit. “Oh.”

  Meg stood up. “Are you hungry? I was never as good a cook as Rob, but I could put something together. Roast beef sandwiches?”

  I swear, at her words, my stomach rumbled. “That’s a yes,” I said, and started to laugh.

  Okay, then,” Meg said. “Sandwiches all around.”

  She left, and I moved to sit next to Sam on the couch. “A team?”

  He kissed me gently. “Of course.”

  Detective Stuart was dressed like the Brawny Lumberjack—flannel shirt, jeans and work boots. She’d come in wearing a sheepskin coat that looked like it would keep her warm on Antarctica. She sat down with us, grabbed a half a sandwich, and then took a big bite.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled as he swallowed. “I’ve been out all day, and this is my first food since lunch. Meg, you’re a wonder. Thanks.”

  I had already eaten an over-stuffed half, and was already feeling full. Sam was working through his third or fourth half-sandwich, but he showed no sign of hurrying. He seemed content to let Laura take her time.

  Finally, she sat back. “We are off the record, so please, call me Laura,” she said. “I think I may have jumped the gun, and I also think you two know it.”

  Sam got into his official mode. “We think that Annalise was having an affair with Rob. We think Bradley knew it. Annalise lied about her movements of Saturday afternoon. She claimed she’d been to Chilton House before, on a yoga retreat, but that was a lie. So when did she and Rob meet? And when Rob and Meg argued, she lied to make it seem like they were arguing about money, when they were really arguing about Rob’s, ah, outside interests.”

  “That’s a lot of lying. Any proof?” Laura asked.

  “Before you came for Louis Michel,” Sam said, “I was trying to track everyone’s movements during the time the murder took place. I had everyone write down where they went, what they did, and who they saw. After Louis was taken, all those papers disappeared. Meg found them later, stuffed in a drawer. Ellie and I looked at them again. Annalise claimed to be in the dining room when other people saw her in the foyer. She said she was in the library, but Louis and Sybil were there, and never saw her. Bradley said she was with him in their room when Bennett and Claudia saw her walking down the hall fifteen minutes earlier. So there’s a block of time where she was not where she said she was.”

  “So you think she was in the kitchen with Rob?” Laura asked.

  Sam nodded. “And that also means there’s a block of time that Bradley was alone, supposedly in his room, but…”

  Laura picked up one more sandwich, ate about half, then sighed. “This Michel guy was probably a crook. Very shaky stuff about his business practices in France. And he confessed to hitting Rob in the jaw, because Rob threatened to call somebody back in Lyon. Those are big strikes against him.”

  “But?” asked Sam.

  Laura nodded. “I listened to him. I questioned him several times. I believed his story. Sometimes, you have a hunch.”

  Sam nodded.

  “And when Meg here started talking about Rob and his women, I thought that was as good a motive as anything else. A jealous woman feeling betrayed. Or maybe an angry husband who finally said enough. You know?”

  She turned deliberately toward Sam. “Were you aware that your friend has had several complaints against him dismissed? He punched out a half dozen guys all over Boston because he thought they were bonking his wife. He was never charged, of course. Not with his money and connections. But,” Laura exhaled loudly. “He’s not such a nice guy.”

  Sam nodded, his face impassive. “Bradley has a temper.”

  “Ya think?” Laura snorted. “We’ll have to get a confession. Do you think you can do that?”

  Sam closed his eyes. “I can do that,” he said. He opened his eyes, and they were dark and angry. “Yes, I can do that.”

  Chapter 9

  I did not sleep well. Neither did Sam. I would wake up from a troubling dream to turn and find him staring up at the ceiling. I felt chilled, but did not curl against him for warmth. He was too angry, and his body was stiff and tense.

  Meg fixed us a simple breakfast. She was alone in the house now, still in the tiny apartment tucked on the other side of the kitchen, but her part-time help had been let go. She sat with us, eating scrambled eggs and toast, and explained how she was looking for a new chef, and how Rob’s insurance had paid off the huge mortgage, giving her the breathing room she needed to keep the inn open.

  She picked up our plates and left us alone, drinking coffee.

  “That’s kind of a great motive, don’t you think?” I said casually.

  Sam glared. “Please, Ellie, the last thing we need is another suspect.”

  We could do nothing but wait. A bit before noon, Sybil arrived. She looked tense and flustered, and incredibly relieved that Sam was there. She stood and hugged him in the lobby for a very long time, and when she finally stepped away, her face was wet with tears.

  “Oh, Sam, this has been such a nightmare. Louis may be a cheat and a complete asshole, but he’s my asshole, and I love him, and I can’t bear the thought of him going to jail for this.”

  Sam took her coat, the beautiful mink, and led her into the living room. He told her briefly what we suspected. She listened intently, nodding.

  “That makes sense,” she finally said. “First of all, I always thought that Annalise only went for Bradley for his money. I know he mentioned once that he kept her on a tight string and a tighter allowance. She had money of her own, of course, but she was a spender, that girl. And a wanderer.” She shook her head. “But why am I here? That detective, Fine, was very specific about Louis not coming with me.”

  “We can’t prove anything,” Sam said. “We can only hope for a confession.”

  “From Annalise?” she asked.

  Sam’s mouth tightened. “Yes. Or Bradley.”

  Her jaw dropped open, and then she leaned back. I could practically see her mind racing, going back over the years, things clicking in place. “Yes, I see,” she said slowly. “It could very well be Bradley. Oh, my. So they’re coming here too?”

  Sam nodded. “Yes.”

  “How do you want me to play this?” She asked.

  Sam looked at me. I shrugged. “If you go all weepy and broken, you might get a sympathy vote, but that would only work if Annalise did it, and Bradley was willing to turn against her. I’d go full Mother Bear. Start screaming that you know who did it, and you’re not letting Louis take the fall. Incite a bit of panic.”

  Sam grinned. “Really? That’s your plan? Panic?”

  I sighed. “Any better ideas?”

  Detective Stuart entered the room, looking much more official in her dark suit than she had the night before.

  “Did I hear right? We’re counting on panic? Sounds right to me.” She clapped his hands together. “Let’s get Meg in here. We need to nail a killer.”

  Sam and I spent the afternoon sitting in the living room, reading and talking quietly. Meg and Laura Stuart prepared a lunch for us, then went off to the kitchen. Sybil went up to her room after lunch, declaring her need for a nap.

  Bradley and Annalise arrived at three o’clock.

  Detective Stuart greeted them, and I could hear Bradley’s voice, loud and irritated. He came into the living room all fuss and bluster, but stopped cold at the sight of Sam and me.

  “What are they doing here?” He practically snarled. Annalise patted his shoulder but he shrugged her off. “What’s going on here?”

  Detective Stu
art smiled coolly. “There are just a few questions that need answering, Mr. Bishop.”

  Bradley went full out attorney. “I don’t have to answer anything without representation, you know that. What kind of stunt are you trying to pull? Where’s Detective Fine?”

  I had texted Sybil the moment I heard the Bishop’s come in, and I knew she was on her way down. But first, we needed Meg.

  Annalise glanced around. “Is this some kind of parlor trick, where everyone returns to the scene of the crime?”

  I shook my head. “No, but remember the last parlor trick we played? Where Sam asked everyone to write down their movements on the day of the murder?” I pulled out a stack of crumpled paper. “Well, we found them.”

  Annalise swallowed. “So?”

  Bradley walked over and snatched the papers from my hand. “This is some kind of stupid—“

  Sam stood, towering over his friend, and carefully took the papers back. “Not stupid,” he said slowly. “It’s all in here, Bradley. Where you were. And weren’t. And who saw you.” He glanced at Annalise. “Why did you feel the need to hide them?”

  She drew herself up straighter. “Me? I didn’t hide them. This is absurd. Really.”

  “Well,” Sam said slowly, “somebody took them and stuffed them into a dresser drawer. In the confusion around Louis being arrested, it was easy.”

  Bradley turned to Harry. “You called us to come up here about that? A bunch of worthless pieces of paper? I’ll have your job, Stuart.”

  Laura stood, face impassive. “No, Mr. Bishop, you won’t.”

  I had seen Meg, standing just out of Bradley’s view, and I nodded slightly. She tore into the room and flew at Annalise, shrieking.

  “Why couldn’t you leave him alone?” Laura caught her as she made a lunge. “In my own house? How dare you.”

  Annalise backed away, her face white. “Are you crazy?”

  Meg stood, her face twisted with anger. “You can’t play innocent with me, you miserable whore. Rob told me, you know. Did you really think you were any different than all of his others?” She turned to Bradley. “And you! What kind of husband lets his wife sleep with another man while under the same roof?”

  Bradley’s jaw clenched. He narrowed his eyes at Annalise, who put out her hand, as though to stop him from coming close.

  Meg was good. Really good. She may not have been all that much in love with Rob, but he was her husband, and the anger and heartbreak was real. “Which one of you killed him?” she asked in a low, shaking voice. “I know one of you did.”

  Bradley took a step toward her, and Sam stepped with him. Bradley looked up at Sam. “She’s a liar.”

  “No, Bradley,” Sam said quietly. “You are. And your wife. Where were you when Rob was killed? You claimed to be in your room with Annalise, but she lied too. She said she was in the dining room. But she wasn’t. Three people saw her in the foyer. Was she waiting for Rob? Did you know she was sneaking to meet him?”

  Annalise spoke loudly. “Bradley.”

  I was frozen on the couch. I didn’t know where to look, so I kept my eyes on Annalise. She was shaking with anger, or possibly fear. So I only heard Sybil, rather than saw her enter the room.

  “Bradley, you were going to let them send Louis to prison?” Her voice was loud and incredulous. “You’d do that to an innocent man?”

  Annalise uttered a short and ugly word, then very calmly took a small gun out of her handbag. “Everyone stop.”

  Bradley looked at his wife, his chest heaving. “Annalise, for God’s sake.”

  “We’re leaving,” she said calmly. “Everyone just back away and let us by.”

  “And where.” Laura asked, “do you think you’re going to go?”

  “We have a plane,” Annalise said. “We can go anywhere we want to. Do you really think I’ll let us be brought down by a two-bit cop in this miserable little town?” She looked up at Sam. “And you. Big detective. Turning on your oldest friend. Come on, Bradley.”

  Bradley took a cautious step toward her. “Annalise, I don’t think we can really get away with this. We need to tell them what happened.”

  I had not taken my eyes from Annalise, but now I glanced quickly around the room. Meg was behind Laura, her hands clenched. Sybil was standing between the Bishops and the front door, and looked cold and determined. Sam’s face was smooth and faintly smiling.

  “Annalise,” he asked, “do you really think we can let you just go? After what you did to Rob?”

  She lifted her chin and uttered a short, barking laugh. “What I did? All I did was grab a piece of him in that filthy back room. Bradley here is the one who couldn’t control that temper of his.” Her eyes narrowed. “Sybil, move aside. Bradley killed Rob. There, your precious Louis is off the hook. Now move and let us go.”

  Sybil backed away, into the foyer and out of sight. Sam moved, and in three steps took Sybil’s place, blocking the front door.

  “You can’t go, Bradley,” he said calmly. “You know that.”

  Annalise waved the gun. “We can do whatever we want, Sam. Get out of the way.”

  Sam spoke directly to Bradley, his eyes never leaving his friend’s round face. “Crime of passion. You can mount a good defense. Turn yourself in to Detective Stuart. If you run, things will go badly.”

  Bradley shook his head. Annalise moved closer to Sam, the gun in her hand shaking dangerously. “You think I won’t shoot? You’re not made of steel. I could kill you.”

  Sam’s eyes never wavered. “Bradley, every minute this goes on, things get worse.”

  There was a sudden wail of sirens, and through the windows I could see the flashing of red lights.

  “Now what?” Sam asked quietly.

  Bradley hung his head. “Annalise, put the gun down.”

  She narrowed her eyes and walked slowly toward Sam until she was close enough to put the muzzle of the gun directly against his neck. I felt a sob rise up in my chest and I put my fist against my mouth to keep it silent.

  “Walk us out,” Annalise said quietly.

  “Bradley,” Sam said. His voice dropped. “You’re the only one who can stop this.”

  “Put the gun down,” Bradley said again, very loudly. “For God’s sake, Annalise.”

  She twisted the gun tighter against Sam’s neck. “He can get us out of here, Bradley,” she said, her voice low and insistent. “We can go to one of the islands. They’ll never find us. We can be safe.”

  “Until you decide to spread your legs for someone else,” Bradley yelled.

  Annalise’s face twisted in fury and she pulled the gun away from Sam to point it directly at Bradley. Sam moved then, finally, and he grabbed Annalise by the wrists, jerking her hands upward as the gun went off, and the bullet lodged in the ceiling.

  Annalise fell to her knees without a sound and the front door burst open. Detective Fine was in the front, and he took the scene in with one sweeping glance.

  “Anyone hurt?” he asked.

  Laura shook her head and moved toward Bradley, taking out her handcuffs and starting to recite, “You are under arrest for the murder of Robert Gillian. You have the right to remain silent…”

  I could finally feel my legs, and I flew from the sofa into Sam’s arms. When I finally stopped shaking and could speak, I hit him hard with my fist.

  “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Ever. Got it?”

  He looked down at me and behind the sadness in his eyes there was the ghost of a twinkle. “Do what? Put myself in danger? Make you think that I may get hurt? Drive you crazy with worry?”

  I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll promise if you will.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “Deal.”

  We left Manchester the next afternoon. We had a leisurely breakfast in town, and then walked around, past the antique shop where we stopped, and Sam bought me the cameo we had looked at on New Year’s Eve. I argued with him about spen
ding the money, but he was insistent.

  “We need something to commemorate this,” he said. “Our first time as partners. When we get old and retire, we can set ourselves up as private eyes, and spend our twilight years solving crime together.”

  “We are pretty good team,” I said.

  “Yes, we are. However, if you go back to your old tricks, and start interfering in my cases before we retire, I will totally shut you down, understood?”

  I looked at the cameo, nestled in its blue velvet box. “Got it.”

  Halfway through New York, it hit me. “So, are you suggesting that you and I are going to still be together in another fifteen years?”

  “I am certainly not going to wait fifteen years to retire,” he said. “Probably closer to ten.”

  “So, you think we’ll be together in ten years?”

  He took his eyes off the road for a second to look at me. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

  Hmm. “Good point. We get along pretty well.”

  “Yes.”

  You like all my friends.”

  “Most of them, yes.”

  “And I like your friends. The non-felons, anyway.”

  He nodded grimly. “Yes.”

  “And if you’re going to continue to shower me with expensive antique jewelry, we could probably continue for some time.”

  “Indeed.” He was quiet, then said, “What about Marc?”

  “Marc?”

  He sighed. “I know that he’s been standing right beside you, all these months.”

  I stared out the window. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “I don’t have a claim on you, Ellie. We’re adults, not high school kids going steady.”

  “Do you want a claim on me?”

  “Yes.”

  I smiled. “Good. It seems that Marc has recently moved on, and I was kind of surprised about how I felt about it. But at the end of the day, I was glad. I’ll always love him, you know. But we’re over.”

  “That’s good,” he said.

  I sighed with pure happiness. “Yes. And we’re good. You and I. Together. I think we’re very good.”