“And since it was raining, Matthew grabbed Donna’s coat and held it over his head. Obviously, that’s how R.G. got muddy feet that night and why he threw up when he found out Donna had lied about having a boyfriend. He realized he’d just murdered an innocent man.” She put the notepad back in her satchel and set it on the back seat. “Carolyn said he started drinking heavily after he broke up with Donna and got fired. Sometime after that he died in a car wreck.”
“Because of guilt, I would imagine,” Russell said. Thunder crackled again. “Let’s get out of here before we wash away. I’ll give you directions.”
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to a motel in Arlington. “Why this place?” Deena asked, not recognizing it.
“This used to be the Inn at Six Flags. It’s where Marina Oswald was kept while the FBI questioned her after the assassination. It seemed like a good idea yesterday when I made the reservation.” Deena couldn’t help but laugh.
There were several cars ahead of them under the striped awning at the front entrance. They decided to wait in line instead of dodging the rain to check in.
“What a night,” Russell said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the headrest.
“Thump, thump, thump.” They both jumped at the noise against her window. They looked out the foggy, wet glass to see Leon Galt standing in the pouring rain under a black umbrella.
“Geez, not him again,” Russell moaned. “This guy’s like Santa Claus. He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. Deena, what are you doing?”
“We can’t just leave him standing out there,” she said, rolling down her window. “Get in.”
Galt closed his umbrella and ducked into the back seat behind Deena. After a long pause, he said, “You found something, didn’t you?”
His breath reeked of alcohol.
“How did you know we were here?” Russell asked, turning around in his seat.
“I called your house,” he said and laid his wet umbrella across his lap. “Your friend Cliff told me where you were. It wasn’t hard to convince him to give me the location once I told him who I was.” Russell rolled his eyes.
“As a matter of fact, we did find something,” Deena said. “We found out the real story about who killed Matthew. There was no conspiracy. No intrigue. Just plain old murder.”
Galt waited for more information. “Is that it? Aren’t you going to tell me the details?”
“Shoe’s on the other foot now.” Deena looked in the rear view mirror at his reaction. He was shaking his head in disbelief.
“I guess I can talk to Donna Morrison myself.”
“She won’t talk to you. I know you charmed Cliff, but she’s pretty tough. Especially after I call her and tell her—”
“But can you prove it?” His tone had turned from curious to desperate.
Turning around in her seat, Deena began to feel pity for him. After all, he had spent years on his research and was seeing it fall apart.
“Leon, this is a circumstantial case. Just as you said, we weren’t there. But, when you put all the facts together, it is crystal clear what happened that night. I’m going to the sheriff’s office tomorrow to give a statement, and then it will all be on the record.” She was tempted to add, You can be one of the first to read it.
“I had a hunch this would happen. Just too many cracks in the tent poles. I know you won’t tell me much right now, but are you sure he was killed that same night?”
“Yes, because of the raincoat.”
“The raincoat?”
“Yes. Donna left her raincoat in the diner and it was found with Matthew’s body. It wouldn’t have been there if he had been killed a month later.”
“No. You’re right.” He stared down at his hands, gripping his umbrella.
Russell motioned for Deena to move the car forward as one of the other cars in front of them pulled away. “I’m going to check us in.” He looked back at Galt and said, “Don’t do anything stupid.” He got out of the car and sprinted to the door.
“It wasn’t just a book deal,” Galt said softly. “They were talking feature film. A documentary. The whole nine yards. This could have been the big payday I have been working for all these years.”
Deena thought he might be about to cry and turned back around in her seat. “The thing is, Leon, your story isn’t true—not this part anyway. Doesn’t the truth mean anything to you?”
Deena waited for him to speak. The awkward silence was deafening. But then she felt cold metal pressed against the back of her neck. She froze.
“Have you ever thought about that night?” Galt spoke slowly, taunting Deena. “How must it feel to have a gun pointed at the back of your head, knowing—not wondering—but knowing it is about to go off? Do you think he was pleading for his life or praying for his afterlife?”
Sitting perfectly still, she held her breath. Shifting her eyes to the mirror, she saw the neon light from the motel sign flicker off the steel barrel. Now she wished Russell had left the gun in her glove compartment. He’s not going to shoot me, she thought. Surely, he’s not that drunk.
“Leon,” she said.
“Shut up, I’m thinking.” In the mirror, she watched him reach up and touch the bandage that covered the stitches on his forehead.
Deena knew he only had one good hand. She felt him push a little harder against her neck. Where was Russell? What would Lara Croft do?
“Let’s go,” he said. “Drive.”
That was the last thing she wanted, so she started to move toward the car door.
“Drive!” He pushed the metal shaft into her neck and then up on her head.
She put the car in gear, and maneuvered around the sedan that was stopped in front of her. She glanced to the right. No sign of Russell.
The motel was on the highway and there was only one road to take out of the parking lot. She pulled out onto the access road.
“Get on the highway,” he said.
Deena did as instructed. Her cell phone rang. Probably Russell. He would call the cops and tell them the description of her car. However, she knew this stretch of road was a notorious speed trap. If only she could find a cop and get his attention. She started to weave a little onto the shoulder. Come on, Mr. Policeman. Reckless driver here.
“Stop that!” The shout from the back seat startled her, and she jerked the wheel to the right toward the shoulder. When she did, Galt fell to the side, catching himself with him right arm. That’s when she saw it. In his hand was not a gun or pistol or revolver—whatever they call it—it was his umbrella. She had just been carjacked by a sleazy, greedy, umbrella-wielding hack from New York City! She pulled to the side of the road and stopped.
Knowing he’d been found out, Galt opened the door, got out, and started walking back from the way they came. He struggled to open his umbrella that had smashed against the car seat.
“Just wait!” Deena shouted, getting out of the car. “I’ll have you arrested! You’ll be in jail! Can’t wait to read about it in your next book!” She blinked her eyes to see through the rain covering her face. She reached into the car and pulled out the muddy stiletto. Rearing back, she threw it as hard as she could, nailing her target in the back of the head. He fell to his knees, wobbled, and then just sat back on the ground.
She sat in the car with the door open, one leg hanging outside, ready to pounce on her prey at a moment’s notice. She dialed 9-1-1 and then called Russell. Barely a minute later, she heard a siren. The highway patrol car pulled in front of her and two officers jumped out. They walked toward Galt—guns pointed—who was holding the back of his head with his one good hand.
“Nice shot,” he said as they approached.
“Stay right there!” one officer ordered.
“Don’t ever underestimate a country girl.” The other officer put his hand out to keep her back.
“I need you to come to the station to make a statement, ma’am.” She watched as they handcuffed Galt and pu
t him in the squad car. Another police car pulled up. Russell jumped out of the back seat and ran to his sister.
“What did that guy do to you?” he asked, looking her over for signs of trauma.
“I’m fine. I’ll tell you all about it at the station.” Tears started running down her face, mixing with the rain, as she thought about how lucky she was to have Russell in her life. They trotted back to her car.
One of the officers came up and gave her directions. She waited as both cars pulled away.
She turned to look at her brother. “I can’t believe you got his autograph,” she said.
“At least I didn’t bring him cookies.”
Chapter Fifteen
It was late by the time Deena and Russell got back to the hotel. She spent another hour explaining everything that had happened to Gary over the phone. With her head aching and her nose running, she plopped down on the bed and fell fast asleep. Her cell phone rang at 7:30 in the morning. It was Aunt Lucy.
“I’m sorry to call so early, but Aunt Cora had another terrible fright last night. She says she had another visit from Matthew’s spirit. Is there any chance you could come here and give her reassurance? She seemed much better last time after your visit.”
“As a matter of fact, I was planning to come this afternoon. I think I finally have answers for her, answers that should let her rest in peace. Wait—bad choice of words.”
“I know what you mean, dear.”
Deena explained that Gary and Russell would be coming and asked her to make sure Mark would be there. She hung up and then threw a pillow across to the other bed to wake up Russell.
Deena’s breakfast consisted of coffee with a side of more coffee. Russell was starving. She told him she wanted to talk to Trey Simms at the sheriff’s office before going to see Aunt Cora.
Russell smeared grape jelly on an English muffin, waiting for his coffee to cool. “Are you going to tell him everything we found out?”
“Since the murderer is one of their former deputies, I think they should know. The evidence is all circumstantial, but maybe they can at least close the case. Also, if Galt ever tries to stir up trouble again, the information will be on the record.” Deena wiped at the drops of orange juice she spilled on her blouse. “This was odd,” she continued. “When I talked to Deputy Simms this morning, he said he has something he needs to tell me about Matthew’s case. I wonder if he got another tip.”
Russell stabbed his hash browns with his fork. “Maybe Leon Galt showed up and confessed.”
*
“I hope this is the last time I have to come here for a while,” Deena said as they got out of the car. They went to the front desk and Deputy Simms came out to escort them to his office. She introduced Russell.
“I’m glad you called,” Simms said. “I know you found some new information, but there is something I want to tell you first.”
“Fire away.” She said and glanced at Russell.
“It’s about R.G. Brice,” he said. “He investigated the Jane Doe case and also your uncle’s disappearance.”
“I know,” Deena said. “You gave me his name when we first talked.”
“I should have told you before, but I wasn’t sure I should.” He squirmed a bit in his chair and began tapping his pencil on his desk. “You see, R.G. Brice was my grandfather.”
“What?” she asked, not sure she had heard him right.
“He’s my grandfather, Roy Glenn Brice, Sr.”
“But your last name—”
“I know. In late 1964, my grandfather was no longer working for the department. He died not long after that in a car accident. My grandmother remarried and her husband adopted my father, R.G., Jr. When I came along, my parents decided to keep the tradition alive.”
“So you are R.G. Simms, III—Trey.” She looked down at the engraved nameplate on his desk. It confirmed what she had just said.
“That’s right. I was too embarrassed to tell you before, seeing how he had done such a lousy job investigating the Jane Doe case.”
“I understand,” she said thoughtfully. She looked at Russell whose face had turned the color of melting snow. “Are you related to Carolyn Fitzhugh?”
“She’s my great aunt. Do you know her?”
“We’ve met.” Deena clutched the satchel in her lap, unsure of what to do.
“So, now that I got that off my chest, what new evidence do you have?” He looked at Deena then Russell, both still as statues, unable to speak.
“Um, uh, about your grandfather. I mean, about the case. I suspected something was unusual when I first talked to you, but this explains it.”
“You must be a pretty good investigator to have picked up on those clues. Have you learned any more about your uncle’s death? What about that lead I gave you?”
“Turned out to be nothing,” she said. “Just a disgruntled former employee looking for some attention.”
“We get a lot of that kind around here, I’m afraid.”
“I was able to find Donna Morrison.” She fidgeted with her satchel to buy time while she was thinking. I have to tell him something, she thought. She could feel Russell’s stare as she pulled out a legal pad and flipped through the pages. “Yes, here it is. The green raincoat. The one found on Matthew. It turns out it was Donna Morrison’s.”
“I see,” he said, and scribbled on a notepad.
“He wasn’t wearing it but was probably using it to cover his head. Whoever shot him probably threw it on top of his body.”
“I’ll make a note of that.”
She proceeded to tell him about her run-in with Leon Galt. The deputy became more serious and assured her he would check into it.
Deena glanced at Russell and stood up to leave. “Thanks for your honesty, Trey. It’s been nice working with you.”
“Remember, if anything turns up, the Perry County Sheriff’s Office is always here to help.”
They left the office and got back in the car.
“Don’t say it,” she warned Russell.
“I can’t believe his grandfather murdered our uncle, and we are the only ones who know.”
“I didn’t know what to say. What would you have done if you were me?”
“Probably the same thing.”
“Let’s get back to see Lucy. I have a bone to pick with Uncle Mark.
*
The summer storm’s cleansing bath had brought on a renewed spirit. Dust turned to mud then washed off the roads and trees. Even the weeds looked better. Lucy’s yellow and pink roses were full and happy after a thirst-quenching drink of water. Deena hoped she could raise the spirits of the family just as much.
Inside the house, Mark paced back and forth like a nervous tiger while Gary sat on the sofa drinking a cup of coffee. Cora was dozing in the rocker. Uncle Richard and Aunt Lucy worked crossword puzzles at the kitchen table. When Deena and Russell walked in, everyone seemed to relax—everyone except Mark. Richard brought in kitchen chairs for extra seating.
“Did Matthew shoot the president?” Cora asked in a groggy voice.
“No, of course not!” Deena said. “Who said anything about that?” Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe Cora knew more than she had said.
“I may be old and frail, but I am not deaf.” She pointed at Mark. “I heard you talking on the phone to someone about it. That’s what you think, don’t you?”
Everyone looked at Mark. Russell was particularly annoyed. “Why would you say that without having all the facts? We know you were working for Leon Galt, but this is taking it too far.”
“Leon Galt? That man from New York?” Richard asked.
“Noel Future is his penname. He has evidence about Matthew’s involvement in the assassination,” Mark said defensively. “Ask Deena, she’ll tell you the same thing.”
Deena leaned forward on the sofa. “Did you know he tried to kill me last night?” She heard several gasps. “Well, not really. He had an umbrella, not a gun. But he did carjack me.”
&nbs
p; Russell stepped in. “It’s a story for another time. Bottom line is, he was thrown in jail last night and showed his true colors. It was all about the money for him.”
“Also,” Deena added, “he told Gary and me what he thought, and believe me, he had no hard proof of Matthew’s involvement. Only speculation.”
Mark stopped pacing long enough to return her stare, but then looked down without answering. Richard stood up and pointed to a chair. “Sit down and talk to us.”
“Did Galt pay you to follow Deena?” Gary asked.
“He gave me some money.” Lucy gasped and shrank back against her husband, covering her mouth with both hands. “It wasn’t nearly the amount he offered Deena and Gary. I would have gotten more if she had just gotten Cora to sign the form.”
“Sign a form?” Cora repeated softly. “Oh dear,” she said and her face turned ashen. “That’s what Matthew’s ghost asked me to do last night. It was so real. He took my hand and tried to put a pen in it. That’s when I hollered.”
Deena reached over and squeezed her hand. “It was no ghost, trust me. Would you care to explain Mark? And start with the letter.”
“Mark! What have you done? Tell us,” Richard demanded.
“This is ridiculous,” Mark said. “I’m leaving.”
“Oh no you’re not,” Cora said, and reached out with her cane, catching Mark’s foot. He tumbled into the middle of the room landing face first on the carpet.
“Touché!” Deena yelled, a little too loudly.
Russell helped him up and took him back to his chair. “Why don’t you just relax and tell us all about it.”
“Why don’t you tell them since you seem to have all the answers.” Mark rubbed his elbow and glared at Deena.
“My guess is Galt offered you money to follow me, but you decided to add some extra services on your own. You went in to Aunt Cora’s room one night when she was asleep and got a piece of stationery out of her night table. That was your first ghostly visit.” Deena pulled the note out of her bag. “Does this look familiar?”
Mark shrugged his shoulders.
“It is a note supposedly from Matthew admitting his involvement in the assassination. It’s fake, of course.”
Sharpe Shooter (Cozy Suburbs Mystery Series Book 1) Page 15
