by K. C. McRae
Merry pulled up in front of her aunt’s house again. Still dark. She’d leave a note. Around back, she turned the doorknob before remembering that she’d locked it.
The door swung open.
“Shirlene? Are you in here?”
Silence. Thoroughly spooked, Merry edged into the kitchen and turned on the light. Flipping light switches in all the rooms, she passed through the house again but didn’t find anything different.
Except in Lauri’s room. The money on the dresser was gone.
———
If his wife bothered to give him the message, Jamie would call Merry at home. But she wanted to talk to him now. An electric scent quivered in the air as she walked across the asphalt to the entrance to Chewie’s Bar.
Early Friday evening, already the floor vibrated from the loud music and people getting started on the weekend. Once she elbowed her way up to the bar and caught Chewie’s attention, she shouted over the cacophony. “Have you seen Shirlene tonight?”
Chewie put one hand behind his ear and pointed to a beer bottle with his eyebrows raised in question. She shook her head and gathered breath to shout again, but he turned to take another drink order.
She waited as he filled a pitcher, perusing his trophies scattered among the liquor bottles behind the bar. She squinted to read the base of the huge gold-plated rifle. Team shooting. John “Chewie” Ueland and—
She pushed her way to the end of the bar, offering an absent apology as she stepped on one drinker’s foot, and went around behind. Stood in front of the trophy, unbelieving.
“Gosh, Merry, you don’t have to serve yourself.” Chewie stood next to her with a puzzled grin on his face.
She pointed at the rifle. “You won this with Olivia?”
Chewie shrugged. “Hell, I taught that woman how to shoot. She wanted to go to a competition, so I dragged her along. Turns out she’s a natural.” He smiled again. “Surprised the hell out of me when we won that thing.”
“She said she didn’t know anything about guns!”
“Well, now, I think you must be mistaken there.” His eyes widened. “Merry? You okay?”
“What about Barbie Barnes? Do you know if she knows how to shoot?”
“I don’t know. She sure didn’t seem interested when she was around and Olivia and I were training. You want a beer? You look like you could use one.”
She waved him off. “I gotta go.”
Making her way through the bar crowd, she felt a tug on her sleeve and turned to find Shirlene standing beside her.
“You looking for me?”
“Yes!”
She grasped her aunt’s arm and pulled her to the door. The sky grumbled again as they exited to the parking lot.
“What’s the matter?” Shirlene asked in alarm.
“Did you hang up on me?”
“What? When?”
“About an hour ago. I called your house and someone answered and hung up on me.”
“I came over here after work for a bagel dog. Chewie stocks them for the weekend from the Schwan’s truck.”
“Shit. Shirlene, you knew she was going to come by. You even left the back door open for her.”
Her aunt’s eyes grew round. “Did you see her?”
“No. I saw the money you left on her dresser. And then, when I went back, it was gone.”
Shirlene sagged against the rough brick of the building. “Thank God. She’s okay, then.”
“You really don’t know where she’s staying?”
Shirlene shook her head. “No. But I hoped she hadn’t gone too far. I wanted her to have money for food or whatever she might need.”
“Jesus. If she goes shopping, she’ll be back in jail in no time. Not that that would be a bad thing.”
Shirlene set her jaw. “I can’t believe you’re saying that.”
“Hasn’t it occurred to you that she might be in danger?”
“Sure. From that bastard Rory Hawkins.”
“Not Hawkins. Olivia. Olivia killed Clay. And his roommate. Lauri told me her alibi isn’t right. Well, she told me Barbie’s alibi isn’t right, but that’s the same thing. God, why didn’t I realize when Olivia gave Barbie an alibi, she gave herself one, too?”
Her aunt turned white. “You think …” She swallowed. “He was her son, Merry. Parents don’t kill their children.”
“Stepson,” Merry said.
Shirlene shook her head. “You must be wrong. I can’t believe Olivia would do that.” She froze. “Wait a minute. You talked to Lauri?”
“She called me.”
“She called you? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was this afternoon.”
“Was she all right?”
“She sounded fine. The connection was bad. I think she was on a cell phone.”
The wind whipped Shirlene’s hair around her face, and she hugged herself. “Shit. I wish I knew where she is.”
“So do I. I take back what I said about her being safer in jail. Wherever she is, I hope she stays there until we get this figured out.”
“Figured out! Even if you’re right, the police won’t do anything! Jamie was the only one on our side, and Kate said he’s been suspended.”
“I know. But I may have a way to make them pay attention.”
———
Merry hurried home, after eliciting a promise from Shirlene to call her immediately if she heard from Lauri. She’d been home for fifteen minutes when Jamie called.
“I heard you were looking for me.” His tone was strained.
“I think I know who killed Clay and Denny.”
“Who?”
“Olivia. I think we can flush her out. I want to use myself as bait.”
Several seconds passed. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Maybe. Are you in?”
“Of course not. I’m not going to let you do something that stupid.”
“Okay. Just checking whether you’d back me up. Guess not. Gotta go.”
“Merry, wait.”
“That woman killed Denny and Clay, and probably her husband as well. She tried to frame me, and my cousin has been arrested and is hiding from Rory Hawkins. Olivia lied to provide Barbie an alibi so she’d have one, too. I’m going to do this. You’re either with me, or you’re not.”
“Don’t do anything foolish. You’re at home?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m coming out.”
twenty-three
“So what’s this Jessica Fletcher plan of yours?” Jamie sat on the couch, scowling, arms crossed over his chest.
“I haven’t quite worked it out yet. That’s why you’re here.” Merry leaned against the fireplace mantle across the room from him.
“Gayle’s furious with me.”
She winced. “She seems to really hate me. You didn’t tell her anything, did you?”
“About yesterday? Are you nuts? But she knows we were involved back before I met her. Who knows what else she might have heard.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe you should go home.”
“And let you pull some loony stunt by yourself? I don’t think so. What’s got you pointing at Olivia?”
She hesitated, then plunged in. “Olivia gave Barbie an alibi, probably telling her that she’d automatically be suspected. Barbie bought it, and then when Lauri so conveniently showed up and put her finger and footprints all over the murder scene, couldn’t take it back.”
“And how, exactly, do you know the alibi’s bogus?”
“Lauri told me.”
Jamie rolled his eyes.
“No, listen. She was not only peeping in Clay’s window that night, but she’d made an earlier stop by Barbie’s for a little evening vandalism.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That waterbe
d thing?”
She nodded. “Right.”
“Hmm. Barbie said that happened earlier in the day.”
“Well, it didn’t. It happened when Barbie and Olivia were supposed to be working on WorldMed stuff.”
“So where was Barbie?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe they did it together.”
She looked thoughtful. “You’re right. They could have.”
“Or maybe Barbie killed Clay, and Olivia is trying to protect her.”
“I wondered about that, too. Until I found out Olivia lied about Mama’s gun. She said she didn’t know anything about guns, and managed to imply that Barbie not only knew how to shoot, but how to do it with that particular revolver.”
“Why do you say she lied?”
“Because John Ueland and Olivia Lamente won a team shooting competition last year.”
“Chewie?”
“Yeah.” She shifted against the mantle. “I called Barbie and asked her about the gun. She sounded surprised that Olivia had told me she’d used it. Seemed distracted for the rest of the conversation.”
“Oh, please. That’s what you’re basing this craziness on?”
“You didn’t hear her.”
He grinned. “Women’s intuition?”
“More than that, smartass. And Olivia is a viable suspect, even if Clay was her stepson.”
“But why would she kill him?” Jamie asked. “You don’t have a motive stuffed up your sleeve, do you?”
She let out a breath. “Maybe. You know how Clay was so against drinking—and drugs?”
“Sure. His mother died from a drug overdose when he was a kid. Bo married Olivia a few years later.” He made a get-on-with-it gesture.
“I’ll be damned.”
“What?”
“Well, I don’t know for sure. I think there might be something hinky about the drugs that WorldMed dispenses. If Olivia was stealing them and Clay found out, he’d be furious.” She nodded. “I guess I would, too, if my mother had died from an overdose.”
Jamie sat back and looked thoughtful.
Merry toed the brick hearth. “Uh, I kind of screwed up.”
His eyes snapped to hers. “What do you mean?”
She took a deep breath. “I asked Olivia to take a look at the WorldMed documentation to see if there are any discrepancies. I said I suspected Anna Knight of being involved with drugs, and wanted to make sure it didn’t have anything to do with WorldMed. I was really looking for information about Barbie.”
“And that was a big, big mistake,” Olivia said from the doorway into the kitchen.
Merry’s head jerked up, her mouth open. Jamie’s hand went to his hip for a gun that wasn’t there.
“Because,” Olivia examined the forty-four she held. “That means I have to kill you, too.” She sighed. “Goddamn it, why couldn’t you just let it go, Merry? Now your crazy little cousin is going to be blamed
for even more death.”
Merry heard a muffled thump out on the porch, but Olivia didn’t seem to notice. She tried to stall. “So it was about the drugs. Why did you kill Denny?”
Olivia’s forehead creased. “Clay told him, and the little bastard thought he could blackmail me into letting him in on the operation.”
Being right about Denny’s greed didn’t make Merry feel any better right then. Olivia was trying to act like she had everything under control, but she was obviously a mess. Her unbound hair straggled in greasy wisps around her pale face, and she wagged her head in an exaggerated fashion, which made Merry wonder if she’d been sampling her own product.
“This sure has turned into a mess.” She sounded apologetic as she pointed the gun at Merry.
Jamie spoke for the first time. “Did Bo find out you murdered Clay? Is that why you killed him?”
Olivia covered her mouth with one hand, tears brightening her eyes. Her hand dropped away from her face as she said, “Bo tried to talk to Clay, tried to convince him not to turn me in for the drugs. But it didn’t work, Clay wouldn’t listen to his dad. So I went over to Clay’s myself. He got really nasty, wouldn’t listen to sense. Then I made the mistake of offering him money, and he completely blew up. I didn’t even think, just grabbed that gun from the living room and shot him.” The tears spilled over and streamed down her face. “I couldn’t tell Bo. I knew what it would do to him, and I loved him too much. But after a couple days he got suspicious, started asking me questions. When he finally came right out and accused me, I told him the truth. I told him I’d shot his son.”
She slumped, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. Merry could see her shaking. “He came after me. My sweet, gentle husband came after me with a pitchfork.” A choking sob made her next words almost unintelligible. “I had to defend myself. I didn’t mean to kill him. I didn’t.” Her eyes pleaded with Merry.
“But once he was dead you set the fire in the barn to cover it up.” Merry’s voice was flat.
Olivia pushed away from the doorjamb and swiped the back of her hand across her wet cheek. Her other hand tightened around the gun. “Shut up. You don’t understand.”
Jamie said, “You’re only making it worse. You can stop it, right now.”
She pointed the gun at him. “No, I can’t.” There was a finality in the three words that arrowed new terror through Merry.
Then a familiar fury erupted, as if something exploded in her gut and only her skin held in the red heat. Merry fought it, afraid of the prickling of her scalp, trying to control the urge to rush the other woman and pummel the life out of her for all the death and grief she’d caused. She couldn’t do that again. There had to be a better way. There had to be.
The shot was deafening. Jamie lurched against the back of the couch as the bullet angled through his chest. He blinked at Merry, a small gesture that seemed to take forever, then slumped forward.
Merry gaped. “No!”
Not Jamie, please not Jamie.
The gun swung toward Merry. She dove through the doorway to her bedroom as the gun went off. The bullet pinged off the stone fireplace chimney, spraying shrapnel as she sprawled on the floor.
Another shot percussed the air. She kicked the door shut, reached up, and turned the lock.
A bullet ripped into the door by the latch, scoring Merry’s arm as she regained her feet. She grabbed a ladder-back chair from against the wall and jammed it under the now-wobbly doorknob. Racing to the window, she threw it open and tried to punch through the screen. Her fist bounced off the screen. Knuckles burning, she drew back to try again, then realized it would be quicker to unfasten it and pop it out. In seconds, it fell to the ground outside.
Olivia had stopped shooting. Merry heard the faint creak of the front door opening. The other woman had heard her trying to get out the window and was moving to cut her off.
To cut her down.
Merry went to the door and eased the chair from under the knob, then stood to the side and opened it with slow care. The living room was empty except for Jamie, who had fallen to his side, one hand clutching at the shirt in front of the bullet wound. His eyes were closed. His blood soaked the green velveteen of the couch, turning it a dark brown.
She bolted through the living room to Jamie’s side. He was still breathing. A noise came from the porch. Merry jumped up and dashed into the kitchen. If she’d miscalculated, and Olivia was in there, Merry would at least have the element of surprise.
It was empty. The door to the backyard off the mudroom was wide open. Still moving, Merry reached for the cordless phone. The kitchen window shattered as the big gun boomed again, blending with a hollow punk as the bullet punctured the side of the refrigerator scant inches from her head.
She abandoned the phone and dashed out the open back door.
Have to get help for Jamie. Have to stay alive to do it
.
Pressing her shoulders against the rough, weathered boards of the house, she sidled quickly along the stones of the foundation toward the rose garden. Olivia would already be on her way around the house, and Merry couldn’t be sure which direction she’d come from. She ran across to the deer fence and hurried to the back side of the garden. She crouched down, screened from the house by the tangle of overgrown rose bushes, and tried to keep her breath shallow.
Light flickered through the seething clouds above, and thunder muttered soon after. She strained to see the back of the house.
If she could make it down to the trees, she could circle around, approach the barn from the front. But there were eight hundred yards of open meadow between her and the wooded area. Still it was dark, and maybe she could …
A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the house and yard—and Olivia standing by the back door, looking in her direction. Merry held her breath, ears poised for sound, waiting for her eyes to readjust after the brilliant strobe of light.
“I know you’re out here. We can do this all night if you want. I’ve disabled the phone, and I’ve got your keys. And Merry? I know your mama sold all your daddy’s guns. Give it up, and we’ll do this quick.”
But Mama hadn’t sold all of her daddy’s guns.
“You know what I think? I think you’re behind those roses.”
A bullet ripped through the foliage four feet to Merry’s left. Olivia couldn’t see her, or she wouldn’t have missed by so much. Hell, given that trophy in Chewie’s she wouldn’t have missed at all.
Merry eased all the way to the ground, lying flat. The sharp edges of the bunchgrass that had sprung up around the garden bit into her arms as she watched Olivia through the petals of a drooping flower head. She thanked providence she’d chosen a navy T-shirt to wear with her jeans that morning.
Olivia approached. Merry coiled her muscles and dug the toes of her boots into the ground, ready to jump and run or attack if the opportunity arose.
Her adversary paused on the far side of the garden, squinting into the roses. Merry found herself praying to some indeterminate deity.
Make me invisible.
Let her get closer. Let her stumble onto me before she knows what’s happening.
