by Edie Claire
Anna waved away the sentiment, but offered a gracious smile. Her dentures had seen whiter days, but her blue eyes were lively, and she had the look of a woman who felt much younger than her seventy-some-odd years. Leigh wondered if she and Clem hung out much. "It works out well for me, too," Anna responded. "My taxes are covered, and I still have control over what's built out there. And what's not."
Leigh digested the subtle comment, and decided that her Aunt Bess was right. Anna Krull might not look intimidating, with her pixie-cut hair, alligator skin, and comfortable 100% cotton clothing—all of which together could not weigh more than ninety pounds soaking wet. But she and Bess clearly had mutual ancestors. Namely, a horse and a donkey. "What I'm suggesting won't sacrifice a single tree," Leigh assured. "The only thing we'd need to build would be a fence. I'm thinking of a dog park—a confined area where people can let their pets off leash."
Anna's smile disappeared. "How many people?"
Leigh tensed. She was well aware of how much Anna—like Bess, Clem, and anyone else who chose to live in the middle of the wilderness off a flood-prone road—valued their privacy. But as she delivered her rehearsed spiel on how the dog park could bring in extra revenue without bringing any extra traffic onto anyone's private land, she was gratified to see the smile gradually return to Anna's face.
"Well then, I think it's a fine idea," the woman praised. "I like the thought of all those cooped-up pooches having the chance to run a bit. Where would you put it?"
Leigh hesitated, unpleasant images once again threatening to unsettle her stomach. "I had been thinking that around the pond would be nice, since the dogs could go for a dip. But now, considering what's happened..."
Anna's brow furrowed. "Yes," she agreed. "We've always had trouble with trespassers out there, but now that..." she contemplated a moment. "No, that won't do, I'm afraid. That pond is already menace enough, attracting hippies and such, and your Aunt Bess is no help at all. She's close enough to hear when they're making a ruckus, but she absolutely refuses to shoo them off!"
Hippies? Leigh suppressed a grin. "Yes, well, that's Aunt Bess for you."
Anna's tone softened. "I suppose they've never really hurt anything," she conceded. "But I'd rather not make the public any more aware of that pond's existence than it already is. Besides, you couldn't fence it in anyway; it's not all on my property. My land, Bess's, and the church's all meet somewhere in the middle of water." She put up a hand and stroked her jaw thoughtfully. Then her eyes lit up. "Why don't you run the fence from the parking lot up to where the old house was? There's no pond that way, and it's a longer walk, but then you'd have a nice clearing for the dogs to play in. If you wanted to get the pump for the well working again, you could even have fresh water available."
Leigh envisioned picnic lunches and dogs leaping in the air to catch flying discs. She smiled broadly. "That sounds perfect!"
"Only thing is," Anna qualified, "I wouldn't want anyone trying to access the clearing from the private road. They'd have to walk from the animal shelter lot."
"I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem," Leigh replied. She had seen what was left of the gated drive that led off into the trees past Bess's house. The dead-end stretch was barely penetrable by goat cart, much less automobile.
"We've got enough traffic on this road already," Anna insisted. She was silent a moment, then she turned to Leigh, her voice suddenly earnest. "Your Aunt Bess is a strong woman, but lately, I've been a little concerned about her. Do you think... considering what's happened... that she's getting nervous about living out here all by herself?"
Leigh's eyebrows rose. No one who knew her Aunt Bess, even a little bit, would trouble themselves with that question. She got the distinct impression it wasn't really Aunt Bess that Anna was talking about. "If you mean, in regards to the murder behind the church," Leigh forced herself to say, "I don't think she worries about her personal safety, no. Do you?"
The older woman's face flushed slightly. "Oh, no. Of course not." She paused a moment, her eyes fixing on her front window. "Did your Aunt Bess tell you that he was here that night?"
Leigh leaned forward. "You mean, Brandon Lyle?"
Anna nodded. "He wanted my land, you know. I'd told him 'hell no' over the phone a dozen times, but he'd never come here in person before. The young woman did, Geralyn, but she was polite."
The older woman rose and stood over one of the aquariums; peered at a thermometer, adjusted a dial. Leigh restrained herself from comment. She knew the look of a person who wanted to talk when she saw it. And it was certainly the least she could do to listen.
"I knew there was a church meeting going on that evening, but I wasn't worried about it," Anna continued. "I didn't think they'd sell with Bess being such a big shot there, and even if they did—well, the development couldn't happen anyway, not without Clem or Bess. When I heard a car in the driveway, I couldn't imagine who it might be. I don't get many visitors, especially not at that hour."
The hand the older woman rested on the aquarium hood began to tremble slightly, even as her voice turned indignant.
"I was already in my nightclothes, for heaven's sake!" Anna exclaimed. "He came right up on the porch under the light, and I could see it was a man all dressed up in a fancy suit, but I didn't know who he was. The chain was on the door, so I did open it up a crack, and then as soon as he started talking, I recognized his voice. But..." she shook her head. "There was something about him that wasn't quite right."
Anna huffed out a breath and squared her thin shoulders. "I don't scare easy. Truly, I don't. But I have to say, that man gave me the willies."
Leigh stood up and moved closer. "What did he say to you?"
Anna shook her head. "I don't completely remember. Same things as always, about how he wanted to 'help' me. Said he could set me up in one of those luxury places for seniors—wouldn't listen when I told him I didn't want to leave here, that I already had everything I needed." She left the window and began to pace. "But I didn't argue with him about it then. I just told him to go away. He kept on, though, till he got downright weird—telling me I had to sell, because his entire future depended on it. Told me I was ruining his life!"
Leigh's teeth gnashed. Even posthumously, Brandon's rating on the egocentric ass scale kept climbing.
"By the end, he was practically sobbing," Anna continued. "Banging on the door, begging to be let in, demanding to see me face to face. That's when I'd had enough. I told him if he didn't get off my porch and off my land in the next ten seconds, the next thing he'd see would be the barrel of my granddaddy's Winchester!"
She paused in front of her small fireplace, over which an antique rifle was mounted. Leigh looked at the dusty weapon and the multitude of rusty screws and wires that held it in place, and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
Anna cracked a sheepish grin. "I suppose it was an empty threat," she conceded. "I couldn't get that thing down and loaded in ten seconds if a herd of wild elephants was after me. But he didn't know that."
She sank suddenly back down on her couch. "The thing is, I've never been afraid to live alone, never been afraid to defend myself, either. But this business... his spooking me like that, then dying that very night, and so close by! I'm ashamed to say, it's got me rattled."
Leigh sat down beside her. "It's got everybody rattled," she assured. "And if I was in your shoes, I'd be far more upset than you are, believe me."
A twinkle returned to the older woman's eyes.
"What happened after you threatened him?" Leigh asked, knowing perfectly well it was technically none of her business. "Did it work? Did he leave then?"
Anna nodded. "Finally. The second he drove away, I called your Aunt Bess. He wasn't headed her direction, but I was worried about her all the same. I was afraid he might head up to her place next."
"What about Clem? Didn't you call the police?"
Anna frowned. "Clem can take care of himself. And why on earth would I call the police? It was your aunt I
was worried about."
Leigh decided not to press the point. Perhaps Anna and Clem really did hang out. They certainly shared the same lack of confidence in law enforcement.
Leigh stood. "Thank you so much for giving your approval to the dog park," she said genuinely. "I promise to keep in touch about how the plan is going. The board may vote it down, for all I know, but I'm glad to know you're not opposed to the concept."
"Bess knows I'm always happy to help her out with the animals," Anna replied, rising also.
Leigh's cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Ordinarily she wouldn't interrupt a conversation, but when she was away from the kids...
"Do you mind if I check this?" she asked, pulling out her phone.
Anna shrugged, and Leigh looked down. The call was from Gil's cell. That was odd. "I'm afraid I need to go now," she told her host, heading for the exit. "But thank you again."
"Come back any time. And tell that aunt of yours to watch herself!" Anna called out as she closed the door.
Leigh wondered as the door shut if Maura and Peterson had interviewed Anna yet. Surely, if they talked to Aunt Bess, they would know that Brandon had gone to Anna's house the night of the murder—apparently after the fight with Gil. Then again, her Aunt Bess hadn't passed on that particular intel to her niece, had she?
Leigh hopped into the van. Maura hated it when Leigh withheld information. But she really, really hated it when Leigh inserted herself into sensitive situations, asked questions that were none of her business, and through sheer dumb luck found things out before the police did.
Leigh was in trouble either way.
She drove back out to the intersection with Nicholson and pulled off on the side of the road. She would decide how to deal with Maura later. Right now, she needed to know what the heck Gil wanted.
He picked up his phone on the second ring.
"Leigh! Why didn't you answer?"
Her eyes rolled. Her cousin's husband was an honest, loyal, and devoted soul, but he was entirely too used to people jumping whenever he snapped his fingers. "I was driving," she white-lied. "Is anything wrong?"
"Not with me," he answered. "But I'm worried about Cara. Can you swing by my office today? Maybe around noon? I need to talk to you—in person."
Leigh sighed. Gil never "swung by" anybody else's office. He just expected others to come to him. "I don't see how," she explained. "I've got to be at Hook by one, and I can't leave now—I've got to wait and deliver the Pack home from the animal shelter first."
"The animal shelter!" Gil thundered. "You mean Cara's alone?"
Leigh's eyebrows arched. "Is that a problem?"
"Of course it's a problem!" he yelled.
Leigh pulled the phone away from her ear a little. She waited.
"I'm sorry, Leigh," he apologized. He always apologized. Gil March was an alpha male to the bone, but he was a chivalrous one. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just so damn worried that she'll—" he broke off the thought. "Do you know where she is now?"
"She said she was going grocery shopping."
"Can you call her and ask if she can pick up the Pack? Tell her you've got an urgent meeting downtown. It's absolutely true. Please, Leigh. I can't get into all this over the phone."
Leigh contemplated for a moment. But it was only for show.
They both knew she would be there.
Chapter 13
Leigh stepped off the elevator with fine beads of sweat breaking on her brow and rainwater dripping from her shoes. She hated parking downtown. She always had, which was why she preferred Hook's offices on Pittsburgh's Northside. There was always a spot available around the stadiums, unless there was a game on, in which case she simply stayed home. She'd been working from home half the time since the twins were born anyway, and she remained perpetually grateful that her line of work made that possible. Cara might be the world's most nurturing earth mother, but if Leigh had been forced to quit work entirely when her kids were little, she no doubt would have gone completely insane. As it was, she had merely dropped back her hours as needed and then started writing increasingly bizarre ad copy. Interestingly, the latter had proved a boon to her career.
She walked down the plush corridor toward Gil's office, opened his solid oak door, and stepped in to find the reception desk untended. She was not surprised, knowing that Gil, like the principals at Hook, believed in giving employees a real lunch hour. But usually, when his assistant was out, Gil left his own door open. At the moment, it was firmly shut.
Leigh was not about to waste any more of her time, even if it was comparatively less valuable. She rapped on the door and opened it simultaneously. "Knock, knock. I'm here, Gil. What's—"
She paused in mid phrase with her mouth open.
Gil was standing to the side of his desk. Pressed against him, with her head nestled on his shoulder, was a buxom platinum blonde wearing an off-the-shoulder minidress and three-inch strappy heels. Gil's arms were around her, one hand resting on a bare, tanned shoulder blade.
He looked up at Leigh with the expression of one being seriously put-upon. "Hello," he said flatly.
The woman lifted her head and stared. She appeared to be around Gil's age, although her face was well preserved... or well injected. Jet-black mascara streaked her cheeks; her otherwise perfectly coifed hair was mussed on one side. Despite the raccoon effect, she was a strikingly attractive woman. At least until her eyes narrowed. "Who is she?" the stranger croaked, leaning her cheek back on Gil's shoulder again.
Gil put his hands on her arms and set her away from him. "Courtney," he said with exasperation, "this is my wife's cousin, Leigh. We have an appointment now. I'm sorry."
The woman's eyes flickered over Leigh as if she were no more significant than a mosquito. She turned her face back up to Gil, her red lips pouting. "You're throwing me out?"
"I'm afraid so," he answered, eluding her next attempt at a grasp and moving toward the door. "I'm very sorry about Brandon. I know it was a shock to you. But you're a strong woman; you'll get through this. Maybe you should go stay with your family for a while?" Leigh moved away from the door, and Gil held it open.
Courtney's expression melted to a frown. She shot Gil a look of pure resentment. "Maybe I'll just do that. It's nice to know that somebody cares!"
Gil uttered a growl low in his throat—one only Leigh could hear. "Of course I care, Courtney," he assured stiffly. "Just not the way you'd like me to. If there's anything else I can do for you, let me know. I am sorry for your loss. Truly."
Courtney let out a "humph," wiped her eyes on the side of her hand, and drew herself up straight. She walked to the door with a practiced flounce, displaying her various assets to their fullest. When she pulled up level with Gil at the door, she paused, tilted her strappy heels up to tiptoe, and kissed him full on the lips.
"See you later," she cooed.
Gil growled again, then slammed the door behind her. He walked past Leigh and returned to his desk. "Have a seat," he suggested gruffly.
Leigh remained where she stood.
Gil rubbed his face with his hands, then let out a breath. "Don't start with me, Leigh. Seriously. We're not having this conversation. I know what you saw, but—" he threw her a level, beseeching look. "You know better."
Leigh looked back into his magazine-worthy, smoky hazel eyes. He had acted with the utmost propriety ever since she had opened the door, true. How he had acted before then could be another story.
But it wasn't. Leigh had known Gil for almost twenty years, and despite his having ample opportunity to prove the adage that really gorgeous spouses are destined to cheat, he'd shown time and time again, in any number of ways, that he was truly, deeply in love with his wife.
"Yes, I do know better," Leigh said lightly, dropping into a chair. "But it would be a terribly fun conversation, don't you think?"
Gil's lips remained in a perfectly straight line. The man really did have no sense of humor.
Leigh sighed. "I take it
that was Brandon Lyle's wife."
He nodded.
"I'm also assuming that you know her pretty well?"
He threw her a hard look. "I've known Courtney since college, same as Brandon. I've never cared for either one of them. Rich parents, spoiled, basically lazy. A well-matched set of reprobates. If you ask me, they deserved each other."
"How long had they been married?" Leigh asked.
"Not long," Gil responded. "Five years, maybe. But they've dated on and off forever. According to Courtney, they tied the knot as a lark when they got rip-roaring drunk in Vegas. According to Brandon, they tied the knot because he needed her money to shore up the loans he took out immediately before they got rip-roaring drunk in Vegas."
Leigh grimaced. "They didn't divorce, though."
"No," Gil replied. "Being rip-roaring drunk, they neglected to sign a pre-nup, which meant Courtney was stuck. At least legally. Last I heard, she was living with a twenty-seven-year-old African dancer in Chicago. You just saw for yourself how devoted she was to Brandon."
Leigh nodded. Her tone turned serious. "If all that's true, Courtney is bound to be a prime suspect. She seems to have as much motive as anyone. That's got to be good for your case."
Gil's face flickered with distress. "I'm sure she's being considered. But I'm also sure she didn't do it. I can hardly root for the police to hassle her just to get them off my back."
"How do you know she didn't do it?"
He shook his head dismissively. "I don't have any proof. I just know her. She's mischievous and shallow, but she's not evil. The tears you saw earlier were real enough; she's mourning Brandon in her own way, even if she didn't love him. But to pull out a gun and shoot someone? No, never. I'm telling you, she doesn't have it in her."
Leigh sat silently for a moment, mulling. How good a judge of female character was Gil? The fact that he had married Cara was a point in his favor. And once, well before that, he had even asked Leigh out. The man had to have some discernment.
