Killed on Blueberry Hill

by Sharon Farrow

  When I arrived once more before the garish walls of the Blueberry Fun House, a CLOSED sign hung on the blue picket fence Piper and Lionel had erected around the building. There wasn’t a carny or fun house visitor in sight. Neither was Kit Holt.

  I pushed open the swinging gate that led to the fun house entrance. If the carny was inside the fun house, I’d ask to borrow his cell phone. When I walked up to the fun house entrance door, it looked slightly ajar. Good. Maybe the carny was inside shutting things down. But when I swung the door open and stepped inside, only that monster Baltimore oriole greeted me.

  “Is anyone here? Hello?” I listened for a response.

  Nothing except the echoes of spooky birdcalls issuing from the wall speakers. Most likely the carny decided to enjoy the fireworks first, and lock up afterward. Might as well wait outside so Kit could see me. When I turned to leave, the fun house entry door swung open. I prepared myself to greet either Kit or the absent carny. But it was neither.

  With a sinking heart, I said, “Hello, Jacqueline.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “Hello again, Marlee,” she said, shutting the door behind her. If Jacqueline found the giant bird that loomed over me a startling sight, she gave no indication of it.

  “This is a surprise.” Actually, it was a shock.

  “Why? You asked me to come with you and Natasha to the fairground. I decided you were right.”

  “How did you find me here?”

  She laughed. “I saw you on the Ferris wheel, waving and shouting at people. You were on the ride for a long time. Half the midway probably spotted you up there.”

  Unfortunately, none of them was Kit Holt. “What changed your mind about coming to the fairground?”

  “Your accusation that Sloane and Ryan killed Porter. I realized we needed to talk as soon as possible about whatever you saw happen between them.”

  “I’ll make it easy for you.” I had to find a way to get her outside. This was not a conversation I cared to have in a darkened fun house. “They kissed. And he asked her if the baby was his. Obviously they’re lovers. The question is for how long.”

  “Not long. Only since June.”

  “How in the world do you know that?”

  “I let them meet at my house when Porter was on the property.”

  Despite my nervousness, I bristled. “You didn’t think there was anything sleazy about helping Sloane cheat on your stepson? And my fiancé to cheat on me?”

  She shrugged. “They would have gotten together regardless. Besides, Sloane needed my help. I didn’t want to see her get shut out of her husband’s will like I did.”

  “I’m guessing she needed help getting pregnant. Which Ryan conveniently provided.”

  “Sloane had little choice. She wasn’t even in Porter’s will for the first year of the marriage. His sister Cara was instead. Because they married so soon after meeting, Porter was reluctant entrusting his fortune to a woman he barely knew. But Sloane eventually convinced him to change his mind.”

  I gave a contemptuous snort.

  “Oh, Sloane can be most convincing. And Porter was much more in love with her a year later, particularly since they were trying to have a child. That’s why he changed his will in June. If he died without an heir, Blueberry Hill would be split between his wife and his sister. If there was a child, Sloane got everything.”

  “Is she even pregnant?” I asked in disgust.

  “Of course she is. With this much money at stake, a fake pregnancy would have been impossible to carry off. Cara would have seen to that.”

  “How lucky for Sloane that my fiancé was on hand to be her baby daddy. And that she got pregnant so quickly.” I decided to play the aggrieved betrayed woman. It was safer than accusing anyone of murder. “I also suspect Ryan didn’t get involved with Sloane only for the sex. He probably hoped she could influence Porter to cancel his debts.”

  “Maybe.” Her sly smile suddenly reminded me of Sloane. Where did this self-assured Jacqueline come from?

  “I don’t want to talk about this right now. The idea of Ryan and Sloane together makes me ill. And I regret saying they killed Porter. I know Ryan. He may be a liar and a cheat, but he’s not a murderer. I was just upset over what I saw at Sloane’s house. I still am, so let’s end the conversation. Besides, Deputy Holt is meeting me outside any minute and I have to leave.”

  “You’re not in the right frame of mind to talk to him. Like you said, you’re upset. And why wouldn’t you be? You discovered your fiancé is having an affair with another woman. And that he might have gotten her pregnant. However, it may make you feel better to know Ryan is not the only possible father of her baby. Sloane has had several other flings this summer.”

  “Let me guess. The lovestruck Wyatt is one of them.”

  “Oh, please. Sloane wasn’t that desperate. Besides, she couldn’t risk having a red-haired freckled child nine months later. No way to pass that baby off as Porter’s. But she did meet up with a few gentlemen on her so-called shopping trips to Grand Rapids and Chicago.”

  “I’m not in the mood to hear about the sordid love life of Sloane. Nor do I enjoy speaking with the woman who helped her in all this. That’s between you and Sloane. Ryan, too, I suppose. All I want is to be left out of this whole disgusting arrangement.”

  “Too late.” She unzipped her shoulder bag and pulled a hypodermic needle out of her purse.

  “What is that?” I stumbled back, knocking down the monster oriole behind me.

  “Ketamine. A common anesthetic, often used on animals. Some vets call it cat Valium.” She pressed the syringe, sending a thin jet of liquid into the air. “There won’t be any pain, Marlee. You could even find the resulting trance-like state pleasant. Although a few hallucinations may occur before you lose consciousness.”

  I balled my hands into fists. “Get out of my way or I’ll scream this fun house down.”

  “Go ahead. Who will hear you? Listen. The fireworks have started.”

  She was right. Loud booms and explosions reverberated overhead. And the Blueberry Blow Out fireworks were always long, noisy, and dazzling. As much as I loved fireworks, it was the second time this summer they had put me at a distinct disadvantage.

  I wondered how difficult it would be to wrestle the hypodermic away from her. Jacqueline was a decade older than me. Then again, she was a little taller, with a lean, toned frame. For some absurd reason, the line from Julius Caesar popped into my head: “Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.” Being brought up by an English professor leaves its mark. Certainly, the dangerous Jacqueline had thought far too much about stealing the Gale fortune and how to get rid of anyone—including me—who stood in the way. I wasn’t going to wait around to get injected with some damn cat anesthetic.

  “Why do you need me unconscious?”

  “So I can finish cleaning this mess up. You shouldn’t have come to Blueberry Hill tonight, Marlee. Sloane and I had everything worked out, even to her black eye: self-inflicted, of course. When your friend almost ran me down tonight, I was on my way to Sloane’s house, from where I would have alerted the police that Ryan Zellar—number-one suspect in Porter’s murder—was threatening Sloane. I saw him hit her in the face.”

  “You’re framing Ryan for the murder,” I said with chagrin, but also relief. Thank God Ryan was not a killer.

  “Who else was as desperate as Ryan? All that money he owed the Gales. Even worse, the Zellar land his father had bequeathed to him. Ryan’s hatred of Porter was so great, he almost killed him after the tug-of-war contest. A few hours later, he actually did, and by using a vial taken from his mother’s insulin supply. At least that is how the police will view it, especially after Sloane and I confirm that Ryan came to Blueberry Hill tonight to threaten Sloane. If she didn’t cancel his debts and return the Zellar property, he’d kill her, too. Initially, we planned to put the blame on Wyatt. He’s such a waste of space. But we decided your handsom
e fiancé would work out much better. And it has.” She held up the syringe with a thin, vindictive smile.

  I lunged for Jacqueline. “Kit! I’m in here! Kit!”

  My weight threw her against the door, but she kept hold of the hypodermic needle. I squeezed her wrist to force her to drop it, but the woman seemed made of iron. “You won’t get away with this,” I said. “Although I can’t figure out why you need to make me unconscious.”

  She pushed back hard, her hand inching closer to my exposed neck. “Because once you’re unconscious, I’ll set this place on fire. Even if they’re able to put the fire out before it all burns to the ground, you’ll be dead of smoke inhalation by then. There will be nothing to indicate you died of anything but that. No suspicion of foul play. They’ll assume Oriole Point’s berry girl simply got trapped in the Blueberry Fun House.” Her eyes narrowed at me. “And Sloane and I will be free to set up another night to entrap the clueless Mr. Zellar. After all, you are the only person to know what went on between Ryan and Sloane.”

  “I told Natasha!”

  “No one will believe her. That silly Russian can only repeat what you told her. And you won’t be able to verify anything. You’ll be dead.” Jacqueline broke free of my grip and shoved me to the floor. Before I could raise my head, she plunged the needle into my bare arm.

  Horrified, I felt as if I had been stung. “You bitch!”

  She stood over me with a calm expression. “Relax. Let the drug take effect. It will end your misery. I don’t like killing people. It’s messy. But sometimes there is no other choice.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “No. I’m a professional. I came here after months of researching the Gale family and the Blueberry Hill fortune. I knew Heather Gale was dying, and her husband Eric likely to be close behind. So I played nurse for as long as it took to make my way closer to being Mrs. Gale. Soon to be the widowed Mrs. Gale. And I didn’t even have to hurry things along. Nature took care of that.”

  “You think you’re clever,” I said. “But I already figured out what you’d done, Jacqueline. Or should I call you ‘Honey’? Honey Lynch. That is your name, isn’t it?”

  She stiffened. “How do you know that?”

  “See, you’re not so smart.” I got to my feet, pretending to be weaker than I was. How long until the drug took effect? “I know you’re a grifter and that Sloane is your partner.”

  “She’s more than that.” She gave me a cool smile. “Sloane is my kid sister.”

  I didn’t have to pretend to stagger when I heard that. “Your sister?”

  “I’ve been training her in the game since she was sixteen. She’s almost as good as I am. And with the Blueberry Hill fortune now hers, she won’t have to run any more cons after this. Neither will I. We arranged for Sloane to be at that fruit growers’ conference where Porter first saw her. I knew the type of blond inflatable dolls that Porter preferred. And my sister knew how to become his fantasy. We were smart to make this a double game, with both of us working to marry a Gale. I didn’t think Eric would be such a stingy pig to leave me basically nothing. But we weren’t going to take the chance of Porter cheating Sloane the same way I had been cheated.”

  “As soon as the will was altered in Sloane’s favor and she became pregnant, Porter had to die, didn’t he?”

  Jacqueline nodded. “Marlee, there’s no point in standing up. You’ll only topple over and hurt yourself when the drug kicks in. I suggest you lie back down. Because you’re not getting past this door. And this is the only way out.”

  Her statement proved she’d never been through the fun house. Otherwise she’d know there was an exit at the opposite end of the building. It was my only chance at escape. And survival. I hoped the drug didn’t overpower me before I reached it. “Sorry, but I’m not in the mood to take this murder attempt lying down,” I snapped back.

  Grabbing the giant stuffed bird behind me, I threw it at her. When she ducked, I raced into the hall of mirrors, where I immediately slammed my knee into one. Despite the blinding pain, I kept moving. The distorted mirrors showed an eerie image of an elongated figure close behind me.

  “You’ll pass out soon,” Jacqueline warned.

  But I’d already run into the shadowy chamber filled with black trees, almost tripping over the dummy of Benjamin Lyall on the floor. As I crouched down to avoid getting my hair caught in any of the branches, I felt a wave of dizziness. Oh, no.

  “Marlee, this is pointless!” she yelled before emitting a tiny scream.

  I glanced over my shoulder. The animatronic oriole that had startled me earlier in the week had come loose again and smacked Jacqueline in the face. It swung upside down from the branch repeating, “Nevermore, nevermore, nevermore . . .”

  I ran into the next fun house chamber, causing strobe lights to flash on, followed by the air jets. My dizziness grew worse and I fell back against the wall. Pushing on, I hoped to avoid the release of the ping-pong balls from the ceiling. But I felt oddly removed from my body, as if I were a puppet whose strings were being pulled.

  Thankfully, I exited the chamber just as Jacqueline entered. I took a second to enjoy the alarm on her face when balls danced about her head from the strong gusts of air from the floor. If only there was a way to lock the door behind me after leaving each room. But all I had to do was outrun her. I’d been in the fun house before. She hadn’t. I had the advantage. That would feel more comforting if I also didn’t have an anesthetic coursing through my veins.

  With the sound of Jacqueline’s footsteps behind me, I made my way down the connecting corridor. I avoided looking at the walls, which seemed to be pulsating. A metallic sound greeted my ears. Either I was hallucinating, or Ellen Lyall was about to make her entrance. When the mechanical doll emerged from the wall, she said, “Beware the blueberry bog.”

  Grabbing the life-size figure by the shoulders, I shoved it toward Jacqueline. The robot seemed to fly on wheeled feet before hitting Jacqueline, who fell back.

  I heard Jacqueline curse, followed by a crash. It looked like Ellen Lyall had another trip to the animatronic repairman in her future. The Blueberry Bog lay ahead. I remembered Piper’s advice about taking the narrow walkway along the wall rather than wading through the ball pit.

  “Look to the right,” I told myself as I reached the open doorway to the ball pit. “Look for the walkway.”

  Without warning, Jacqueline grabbed my arm and I yelled. After a brief struggle, I spun Jacqueline around, then shoved. She fell backward into the ball pit. As she flailed about in a sea of giant plastic balls, I hovered in the entranceway. The balls now seemed to float in the air. The drug was winning. I had to get to the exit before complete victory occurred. I put my back against the wall and forced myself to traverse the narrow walkway to the other side. I knew if I looked down to monitor Jacqueline in the pit, I’d pitch forward and all would be lost.

  Once I reached the other side, I fell against the wall, fighting back unconsciousness. I had to reach the room that held the swinging bridge. Not only was the exit in that direction, so was Cornelia’s wolverine-hunting hatchet. By heaven, if I couldn’t make it to the exit, I refused to go down without a weapon.

  As I lurched across the swinging bridge, the taped voice intoned, “Welcome as we bridge the years from 1760 to the present.” A swinging bridge was the last thing a person with rubbery legs should be on. I almost toppled over the side as the room swam. Spots appeared before my eyes. I couldn’t pass out. Not yet. Gripping the roped sides, I pulled myself over to the Cornelia mannequin. Just in time. I felt the bridge sway even more as Jacqueline set foot on it. She must have seen how dizzy and wobbly I was since she deliberately began to swing it more.

  The only good thing was that the knee I had slammed into the mirror no longer hurt. Apparently, the drug was also a pain reliever. “You won’t make it out of here,” Jacqueline said.

  I had reached Cornelia and yanked the hatchet out of her hand. Even in my disoriented state, I saw t
hat the hatchet was cheap plastic. Sometime this past week, Piper must have replaced the real hatchet with this fake. Piper never took any advice I gave her. Why did she have to start now?

  As Jacqueline made her way to me over the swaying bridge, I threw the hatchet aside. Almost falling over the side of the bridge due to my disembodied state, I made several grabs for Artemus’s rifle, finally snatching it when Jacqueline was only a few feet away.

  “Keep back!” I held the rifle like a cudgel and swung it back and forth. “I’ll bash your head in if you don’t go back across the bridge.”

  She looked nervous, but only for a moment. That’s when the rifle broke apart in two, and I was left with only half of what appeared to be a toy rifle. What an awful time for Piper to become this responsible.

  “Sorry. You lose, Marlee.” She gave me a sad smile. “But you should be proud. You stayed on your feet much longer than I anticipated.”

  I hurled the rest of the rifle straight at her. “Well, I’m not done yet!”

  As the world spun around me and the bridge rocked beneath my feet, I staggered to the other side and finally reached the Blueberry Burial Ground. If I didn’t make it to the exit door, it would end up being my final resting place, too. The skeletons hanging from the ceiling danced all about me. And there seemed a lot more of them this time. Thirty? Forty, maybe. It looked like an army of skeletons filled every bit of space above me.

  Not only was the vertigo overwhelming, I could no longer feel my feet. I stumbled to the ground. “Get up, Marlee,” I said aloud. “Get up and get to the door.”

  If I had to, I would crawl. I was doing just that when two feet appeared before me.

  “Give it up, Marlee,” Jacqueline said. “You’re about to black out. It’s like going to sleep. It’s easy. Do it. I’ll take care of the rest. Go to sleep.”

  I pressed my nails into my hands. Any sensation to keep me awake. “I won’t let you burn me in here.” My mouth felt like cotton. I heard what sounded like drumbeats getting closer and closer. “And I won’t let you frame Ryan for murder!”