by Jane Tesh
“That’ll take too long.”
“Well, I’m not going through town.”
“You can cut across the Super Food parking lot and get to Twenty-Four.”
“That’s illegal!”
“Damn it, will you quit arguing? There’s no telling what Byron will do.”
We argued all the way to Lesser Lake. We parked and got out at Byron Ashford’s house where the front door was open. Not a good sign. I entered cautiously, keeping Ellin behind me.
“Ashford? Anybody home?”
Silence. Then a moaning sound.
I followed the sound to the living room and found Byron Ashford trying to sit up. He clutched his head and groaned. “Double-crossing bitch.”
I helped him sit up. “Where is she? Was anyone with her?”
He winced. Blood seeped through his fingers. “Some crazy little guy waving a notebook and saying something about being my great-grandfather.”
“Where are they?”
He tried to focus. “The pier, I think. What the hell’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you later. See what you can do to help him,” I told Ellin, who was peering around me. “But don’t let him leave. Call Jordan.”
I ran out to the pier. Melanie Gentry was untying the rope that held the speedboat to a piling. I didn’t see Camden. Good God, had she already tossed him overboard?
“Hi,” I said.
She turned, startled. I don’t know how I could have ever thought this woman was attractive. She gave me a look Medusa would have envied. I strolled a little closer and caught a glimpse of Camden’s limp body lying in the boat.
Now Melanie’s expression was smug. “You had the notebook all along, didn’t you?” She gestured toward Camden. “He got it out of your car to show Byron, and now it’s mine.”
“Okay, so you have the notebook. Find what you were looking for?”
“No, but I’m sure it’s in there.”
“Would ‘it’ be a little number called ‘Oh! Susanna’?”
Her smug look vanished. “How do you know about that?”
“Because I have it. Did you have to kill two people to get it?”
This didn’t rattle her. “I haven’t killed anyone.”
“But you know who did.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Well, I do, too.” I moved closer. “You work at the college. You knew Thomas and Albert Bennett were acquainted, might have even heard them arguing. People get touchy about important discoveries over there, don’t they? Thomas thought there was something in Albert’s father’s notebook, but when Albert refused to let him look at it, I think there was an altercation. I think you saw Thomas kill Albert. The notebook didn’t have what he wanted, so he left it on the lawn.”
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“Well, you left a couple of clues behind. For one thing, your pig is missing an eye.”
She gaped at me. I pointed to her sweater. “That one right there. I found it in the bushes at Albert Bennett’s house. You were waiting for Thomas, weren’t you? You saw what happened and now you’re blackmailing him.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Then why did you tell him, ‘If you’re not careful, I’m going straight to the police’?”
She didn’t answer.
“All this noise about hating Byron Ashford. Why did you go with him to Tranquil Breeze? Didn’t know it had burned down, did you? Did you go with him to Lassiter’s house, too?”
“You should be talking to Byron Ashford, not accusing me.”
“Fine. Let me get Camden out of your way, and you can come with me. The police would love to hear your side of this story.”
Her expression hardened. “Oh, no. I’m getting rid of Ashford.”
“That’s going to be a little difficult. He’s dead.”
“No, no, he’s come back. He drowned Laura, and I’m going to drown him. Byron and Thomas will go to jail, and the notebook will belong to me.”
“It’s useless. It’s just Ashford’s work.”
“I don’t believe you.” She got into the boat and started the motor. Camden hadn’t moved. I could see blood in his pale hair and more blood on one of the oars.
I tried to reason with Melanie. “Listen to me. That’s not Ashford and you know it. You can’t kill an innocent man, not over some stupid morbid folk songs! Give it up!”
“The notebook’s mine!”
“Okay, okay! You can have it. Just back away. Let me take Camden with me, and you can have anything you want.” Including an all-expense paid trip to the loony bin.
She shook her head and gunned the motor. As the boat dug into the water and zoomed away from the pier, I ran and made a flying leap. I missed the boat, but grabbed hold of the rope and hung on. When she looked back and saw me doing my ski-less act, I thought she’d speed up to get rid of me, but the boat spluttered to a stop. As I swam for the boat, I saw that Camden had recovered and yanked out the key. She was grappling with him, trying to wrench the key from his hands. He managed to pull her arm behind her, and the boat rocked violently as she tried to shake him off.
I reached the boat and heaved myself over the side just as she elbowed Camden in the stomach and he went down with a groan. Melanie flung herself at me, fingernails out like talons. My heavy wet clothes slowed me down, but the tilting slippery deck saved me from being shredded by her claws. I fell with a thud and crashed into the side of the boat. Just as I slid to the other side, I felt the rope tug around my neck. Melanie’s insane anger gave her a strength I would not have believed. I tried to wedge my fingers under the rope, thinking the next slide across the deck would be my last, when Camden jumped on Melanie’s back and both of them fell backward. Melanie took advantage of this to roll him overboard. He immediately sank, then struggled to the surface, gasping. From somewhere on the shore, I heard Ellin shriek.
“Cam!”
I jumped down into the dark water. Above me, the boat roared to life. I managed to snag Camden’s arm before the water churned in a furious storm of bubbles, and I realized Melanie was going to do her best to run us over.
Minnesota is the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes, and I’ve been in most of them, a strong swimmer enjoying the water, although this water was damn cold. Camden’s never even been in a wading pool, much less dark icy Lesser Lake. I knew he wouldn’t like it, but the only way to avoid getting minced was to go deeper. I grasped the soggy folds of his shirt and yanked him down as the boat zigzagged above us. Then I hauled him up to the surface for a quick breath.
“Take it easy. I’ve got you. We have to go back under.”
He was panicked and exhausted, but the boat was heading right for us. I plunged back under, tugging Camden with me. By now, I was exhausted, too. How many more passes would Melanie attempt? The next time we surfaced, however, she must have decided we could drown on our own. The boat careened around the corner, leaving a series of waves that jostled and slapped at us. Camden didn’t crawl on top of me the way drowning victims often do. He passed out, which made it easier to haul him in. It was a long way to the shore where Ellin jumped up and down, still shrieking, but I made it. She kicked off her shoes and waded into the shallows to help drag Camden up onto the grass where I pushed on his chest and she breathed in his mouth until he coughed up a couple of gallons and decided to live.
I sat back, trembling. Melanie Gentry had disappeared around the corner of the lake. Ellin cradled Camden in her lap, stroking his forehead and making odd little croaking sounds. It took me a moment to realize she was crying.
“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s going to be all right.”
It wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d said, “But what about my show?” She didn’t. She held him tighter and started hiccupping.
I stagger
ed to my feet, my clothes clinging to me like cold wet plastic wrap. “Come on. We need to get inside.”
With one stop to rest, I was able to carry Camden up to Byron’s house. I put him on the sofa while Ellin hunted for some blankets. She tossed me one, and I tied it around my shoulders. It was brown and very warm. I hoped it was expensive. Then I helped Ellin peel of Camden’s wet shirt. His head was still bleeding from where Melanie had smacked him with the oar.
“Too bad he’s not awake,” I said as she struggled with his pants. “He’d be thrilled.”
She was still snorting up tears. “Shut up.”
“You’ve never seen him naked, have you? You should be thrilled, too.”
Her eyes blazed. “Damn you, Randall. This isn’t funny.”
No, but it was a whole lot better than the pale sobbing Ellin. I had her back up to speed, so I backed off. Byron Ashford was conscious, but he was a pale green color. Ellin had already called nine-one-one, covered him up, and put a cushion under his feet.
I dried myself with the blanket. “Okay, Byron, now’s the time to tell your story. Make it quick.”
He managed a glare. “I don’t have to say anything to you.”
I turned to Ellin. “I’m going after Melanie. Did you call Jordan?”
“He’s on his way. Going after her? With what?”
“The Fury.”
“But she could be across the state line by now.”
“Ellin, Lesser Lake’s not that big. She’s going to have to pull up at the marina, and guess how many people are there today on festival weekend?”
Ellin’s smile was grim and satisfied. “About a thousand.”
“At least.” I ran out.
Sure enough, the Lesser Lake Marina was crammed with boats of all sizes, the parking lot full of trucks, cars, RVs, and campers. I left the Fury on the side of the highway and searched, ignoring the curious stares at my wet, wrinkled clothes. Unless she’d had the foresight to leave a vehicle here, Melanie would have to park Byron’s boat and steal a car to make her getaway. Otherwise, she’d have to turn around and go back to his house, where she’d run right into Jordan and/or Ellin, and she’d never make it out alive.
I scanned the crowd and the array of boats, but didn’t see her. Sailboats skimmed the water. Pontoon boats drifted, music and laughter echoing across the lake. Off to one side, children splashed in paddleboats. I walked out on one of the piers. All the slips were filled. Had she managed to get here first, find a parking place, and get away?
Then Byron’s boat came around the corner, slowly and carefully, as if Melanie were looking for a place to pull in without calling any attention to herself. I ducked down behind the boats and waited until she was closer.
Journey by water, the Tarot cards had said, and I wanted to prove those little pieces of cardboard right. The minute two kids exited their paddleboat, I jumped in, scooted down in the seat, and paddled for Byron Ashford’s speedboat. As I’d hoped, there was enough noise and action going on that Melanie ignored a rogue paddleboat as she searched for a landing spot.
By the time I heaved myself into the speedboat, she had time for only one howl of outrage. Then she grabbed a pole with a nasty-looking hook on the end and swung at my head. With no one at the controls, the boat teetered precariously, sprays of water splashing up onto the deck. I dodged Melanie’s frantic swings until one caught me on the shoulder, and the hook snagged my shirt. As I fought for balance on the slippery surface, I clutched the hook and gave the pole a quick shove back, catching Melanie in the chest. With a furious cry, she landed on her rear and slid into the steering column. Eight ball in the side pocket. I threw the pole overboard and snatched the notebook from the deck.
Breathing hard, Melanie scrambled to her feet. She looked around for another weapon and found the oar. She held it up like a batter prepared to smack the winning homerun. “Give that back!”
The boat continued to rock and drift away from the dock. I felt like a lumberjack trying to balance on a log, but I managed to hold the notebook high. “You don’t deserve it.”
“Give it to me!”
As she swung furiously, I ducked under the oar and tried to snag her foot, but my feet slid out from under me. She brought the oar down with a crash, narrowly missing my head. I rolled over, regained my balance, and dangled the notebook over the edge of the boat.
She halted, panting. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me.”
She threw down the oar and jumped for the notebook, but the rocking boat and her uneven footing caused her to seriously miscalculate the distance. She sailed by me and windmilled over the side. I tossed the notebook down on the deck, turned off the motor, leaned over, and reached for her.
“Melanie! Give me your hand.”
She sank, came up gasping, her hair slicked over her face. “No.”
“This is stupid. Come on.”
She went down and splashed up again. “No. You’re right. I don’t deserve it. I did everything wrong. I’m going to drown, just like Laura.”
She wanted to make a grand gesture, but this crazy woman had tried to kill me and Camden, and I’d had enough of her theatrics. I jumped in and dragged her out. Why should she get out the easy way when she’d caused me so much trouble?
She sat and sobbed in a puddle as I drove the speedboat to the dock where a crowd had gathered to watch the drama, including two policemen. I happily mentioned Jordan’s name and handed a drenched Melanie over to them.
“And could you guys follow me? There’s someone else who may need a ride.”
***
When I came back to Byron’s den, Jordan and the paramedics were there. They’d checked Camden and said he was all right. Byron had a concussion, but he still loudly demanded to call his lawyer.
Once again, I wrapped myself up, shivering, and tried to get warm. Ellin had Camden bundled up in blankets and was sitting by him, drying his hair with a hair dryer set on low.
“Did you catch that crazy woman, Randall?”
“Yes, I did, just as the cards foretold.”
When the other policemen walked in with Melanie, Byron tried to lunge for her.
“There she is! That’s the woman who attacked me!”
She was shaking from cold and anger. “This was all your idea!”
The paramedics had to hold him down. “My idea! You’re crazy!”
“Let’s work together, you said. Let’s share the money, you said. Did I tell you to kill people?”
“I’m not taking the blame for this!”
Tommy Fairbanks and Annie Blum could’ve taken lessons. Jordan stood listening, his mouth quirked in a wry smile.
“I never told you to kill anyone, Byron.”
“I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Ashford knew all about it. He knew you killed Albert Bennett and Harmon Lassiter.”
Byron lay back, fists clenched. “That is not my great-grandfather, you delusional idiot. Can’t you see this was all a trick? Shut up! Nobody has any proof of anything.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said.
Jordan glanced at me. “Care to enlighten us?”
“I found an address label from one of Lassiter’s magazines in Byron’s pants.”
Byron stared. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Right before you took those clothes to the cleaners. I’m guessing that was one of those errands you had to run, just to make sure there weren’t any traces of your visit to Oakdale. But those little labels were flying everywhere, weren’t they, especially if Lassiter was fighting for his life. You probably had to scrape them off your shoes, clean them out of your car. But you missed one.”
Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “Do you actually have this label, Randall?”
“I bagge
d it for you. His fingerprints might be on it, but I’m guessing you can find more evidence at Lassiter’s house, if you don’t mind checking through all the magazines.”
Gray-faced, Byron Ashford looked from my face to Jordan’s. “I want my lawyer.”
Jordan motioned to the officers. “Take Mister Ashford in and make sure he’s all right. Let him call his lawyer. I’ll be by to talk with both of them later. And take Ms. Gentry in, too.”
Still arguing, Byron and Melanie were escorted out by the policemen. Jordan turned to me. “I’ll want to talk to you, too.”
“There’s someone else you need to talk to first.”
***
This time I ignored the secretary and went right on in to Thomas’ office. He looked up from the papers on his desk. His eyes widened at the sight of Jordan.
“Mr. Randall? What’s this?”
“I think you know. It has to do with ‘Oh! Susanna’ and a certain notebook.”
For a moment, he brightened. “It was actually in that notebook? You found it?”
“There’s a piece of it, yes.”
Then he sat back. His shoulders slumped. “How did you find out?”
“Here’s what I think happened. You can fill in the blanks. When Melanie Gentry approached you about finding proof Laura wrote the songs in Patchwork Melodies, you started thinking about Ashford and Horatio Bennett and the possible connection to Stephen Foster. I think you made a deal with Melanie. Find the notebook and I’ll make sure you get your proof. Just bring the notebook to me. But Albert Bennett’s notebook didn’t have what you wanted, so Melanie hired me. You knew Lassiter’s family had known Ashford’s, and that he had a notebook, but he refused to let Melanie or Bryon see it. You figured, correctly, that he might lend it to a third uninterested party. You’re a music scholar, so you knew Horatio had lived in New York the same time as Foster, so Foster’s music could be in that notebook, and you desperately needed some kind of major find to save your job and your reputation. The PBS documentary was going to be your way to fame and fortune.”
Thomas put his hand over his eyes and stayed silent.
