“Is Ritaestelle even strong enough to . . .” I swallowed before I went on. “To do what was done to Evie Preston?”
“I doubt it, but adrenaline is a powerful thing. Let me ask you this, Miss Longworth. Who do you think wanted Evie Preston dead?”
“I—I . . . I have no earthly idea. Evie was a confident young woman. She handled my affairs competently, dealt with the philanthropic requests that came in an assured and businesslike manner.”
“Did your family like her?” Candace asked.
“I would suspect not. I told Evie how much money my family should be allotted per month, and she either gave them a check or used the computer to transfer money to their accounts. Do you think that could have caused enough rancor that one of them killed her?”
Candace sighed heavily and fixed a blond strand of hair behind her ear. “People kill for all kinds of stupid reasons—and you ask me, money is one of those. Right now I need to get on with the business of figuring out what Miss Preston knew, what secret she may have held, that led to her death. I would appreciate your continued cooperation—even if my investigation leads to someone you care about.”
“Most likely the person who drugged me?” Ritaestelle said.
“Yes, ma’am. Your servant, Mr. Robertson, seems to know quite a bit about the folks living in your house. But he seemed reticent to talk about them. Maybe you can encourage him to cooperate.” Candace glanced at her watch. “My break is up, and I need to get back to your house.”
Ritaestelle smiled. “Do tell George I miss him, but that I am being well cared for and that he can speak freely to you.”
“I’ll do that. He sure seems protective of you,” Candace said.
“No such attitude came from my relatives, I assume.” Ritaestelle’s lips tightened, and she resumed her rocking.
“I can’t tell you what they had to say right now, but I told you about the neighbor because Kara will be printing what he said tomorrow,” Candace said. “Casting public doubt on you as a suspect might make the killer nervous. Maybe they’ll make a mistake, do something stupid.” She stood and started for the steps but turned before she reached them. “I forgot one question. Who had access to your car?”
“I always hang my keys on a hook by the back door that leads to the garages,” she said. “I have done so for years. Everyone in the household had access. Why are you asking?”
“Because if you didn’t put those items in your car, someone else did. Seems as if it could have been just about anyone.” Candace’s stony cop face was gone for an instant. I could tell she was deflated.
“Have you ever heard of gaslighting, Deputy Carson?” Ritaestelle said.
“Gaslighting?” Candace sounded puzzled. “Are you talking about arson? And what would that have to do with this murder?”
“Can you explain the gaslighting to her, Miss Jillian?” Ritaestelle said.
“Sure.” I told Candace what we’d discussed earlier with Karen and Ed.
“Oh. You mean you’re being set up,” Candace said to Ritaestelle. “Didn’t know there was a name like that for it. But that’s why I came today. We’re on the same page.”
“We’ll have to rent the movie Gaslight if it’s on DVD,” I said.
Candace pointed at me and smiled. “Sounds like a film I need to see.”
She hurried down the steps and was gone.
Ritaestelle and I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening indoors playing with the cats and talking. I threw together a hamburger Stroganoff that Ritaestelle thought was delicious. I wondered how many fifteen-minute meals she’d ever eaten and if she was simply being polite with her praise. After supper, while I did some hand quilting on orders that urgently needed my attention, Ritaestelle asked a million questions about my past, how I’d learned to quilt and why I’d moved to South Carolina. The conversation eventually turned to my late husband, and I was again reminded of Farley Longworth’s accusation. Still not wanting to talk about what he’d said, I instead told her about John and some of the wonderful things we’d done together.
“Mr. Stewart has a genuine affection for you. Have you had enough time to heal from your loss and return that affection?” Ritaestelle said.
“Some days yes and some days no,” I said.
“That is an honest answer. Life is indeed complicated.” She glanced at the clock on the DVR box next to the television.
“Nine o’clock,” she said. “I must say, I am extremely tired.”
“Can I help you to your room?” I asked.
“I truly am beginning to heal. The more I walk on my own, the better.” She left the living room with Isis leading the way.
I was about to get up, set the security system and curl up with a book when my phone rang. I saw Tom’s name on the caller ID and felt a tad guilty talking to him right after my conversation with Ritaestelle about John and about my hesitancy at times to allow Tom completely into my life.
I answered with a breezy, “Hey there,” hoping he wasn’t as perceptive as he usually was. I did like Tom, after all. A lot.
“It’s Candace,” Tom said hurriedly. “I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”
“What are you talking about?” I said. But the urgency in his voice told me something was terribly wrong.
“She was hit over the head in her apartment parking lot. They’ve taken her to the county hospital.”
I could feel my heart pounding at my temples. “She’ll be okay, though?”
“I don’t know. She’s unconscious.”
Twenty-Four
As soon as I hung up with Tom, I speed-dialed Kara with a shaky hand. I couldn’t leave Ritaestelle alone, but I had to get to that hospital. I was hoping she’d come over and stay with my houseguest.
When she answered, she said, “I was just about to call you. I’m on my way to the hospital. They found Candace lying unconscious in our apartment parking lot.”
“Tom told me. Do you know how badly she’s hurt?” My mouth was so dry it was difficult to get the words out. My three friends, realizing I was upset, gathered close. Merlot sat next to me, ears pricked, Syrah was at my feet staring up at me and Chablis had jumped into my lap.
“I don’t know anything about Candace’s condition,” Kara said. “By the time I got out to the parking lot, the ambulance had already left. The deputies weren’t about to tell the newspaper snoop anything about one of their own—even when I said I was off the record and asking as a friend.”
“You didn’t hear anything that went on outside beforehand?” I said.
“I was in the shower, and when I got out, the police scanner was squawking about an ambulance needing a police escort. I got dressed, saw all the flashing lights through my window, and you know the rest.”
“Tom’s picking me up. I was hoping you could stay here with Ritaestelle, but of course Candace is your friend, too. What should I do?”
“Arm the security system and tell the woman to stay put. She is an adult, Jillian.”
“But—”
“Do you believe Ritaestelle is next on this hit man’s list?” Kara said.
“Maybe. I’m too upset to think straight.” Syrah meowed and pawed at my knee. Tears stung my eyes, but I fought them back.
“This whole nasty business is swirling around Ritaestelle. Makes sense she might need protection after what’s just happened. But any Mercy cop who’s free will be at the hospital,” she said. “Maybe Chief Shelton can whip on over and guard your house.”
“That could take a good thirty minutes. Tom will be here any minute to pick me up, and I don’t feel right leaving her alone, but—”
“Leave,” came a voice from the foyer. Ritaestelle was standing there in her robe, Isis in her arms. “Obviously you need to be somewhere right now.”
Kara said, “I heard what she said. Listen to her. Meanwhile, I’m pulling into the hospital lot. Bye.” She disconnected.
I looked at Ritaestelle. “Candace has been attacked. Hit over the head. She’s in t
he hospital and—”
“You need to be at your friend’s side. I promise you I will be fine. I will not open any doors or peer out any windows if I should hear anything outside,” she said.
I hesitated, but I had to be with Candace. “Let me show you how to set the alarm. Engage it right after I leave, okay?”
“Thank you. Perhaps you could write down your cellular phone number for me?” She stroked Isis and smiled sadly. “Terrible things have happened, and I feel responsible. I should have never come here.”
“Don’t say that.” I lifted Chablis off my lap, set her on the floor and stood. “Tom and I and every person on the police force will work as hard as we can to find the truth. If you hadn’t come here, you might be dead now.”
“I might indeed. But I would gladly exchange my life for Evie’s or for your friend’s at this juncture.”
“This is not your fault.” I gestured toward the kitchen. “Come on. Let me show you how to engage the system.”
After I was sure she knew what she was doing, I told her that I would be checking my cat cameras often, so she would have another level of security.
Before I left with Tom, she said, “Please call me when you have news about Deputy Carson to share. I will be praying for her.”
When a police officer goes down, the response from the community, fellow officers, fire and rescue teams, paramedics, local politicians and of course the media is almost overwhelming. So many people were at the hospital awaiting word on Candace’s condition that all her visitors were directed to the outpatient surgery waiting room—even Nancy Shelton. Good choice for a gathering place since no one was having elective surgery this late at night.
Tom and I headed straight for Mike Baca. He was pacing behind a vinyl sofa at the far end of the room.
“Tell me she’ll be okay.” I said when we reached him.
Mike’s face was drained of color. “She’s been taken from the emergency room to ICU. There was a lot of blood and she was unconscious the entire ride in the ambulance.”
“Blow to the head, we heard,” Tom said.
“Back of the skull, so she might not have even seen her attacker.” Mike focused on the floor and shook his head. “I should have handled this case myself.”
“Don’t go blaming yourself, Chief,” came a voice behind us. It was Morris. His red-rimmed eyes betrayed how upset he was. “We’re gonna find this coward and take him down—take him down hard.”
Seeing how emotional these two strong men were brought out a part of me I usually reserved for my cats. They needed a few comforting words. “Candace is tough. She’ll be good as new. I feel it.” But I didn’t truly feel it. All I felt was sick and scared and anxious.
Tom ran a hand through his hair, and though he’d been calm and reassuring in the car, he wasn’t that way now. “Are there any leads? Like, how many of those bozos that live with Ritaestelle have an alibi?” He held up a hand before Mike could say anything. “Stupid question. You couldn’t have gotten that information yet.”
“I have a deputy canvassing Candy’s apartment complex,” Mike said, “but from the reports I’ve been getting so far, no one saw or heard anything. Her gun was still in her holster and her car was where she’d parked it. Nothing amiss.”
I cringed hearing him call her Candy. She would hate that.
“This wasn’t a random mugging if nothing was taken,” Tom said. “My bet is someone got nervous after Candace interviewed them and decided to take action.”
“She reinterviewed Ritaestelle this afternoon,” I said. “Candace planned to give Kara a story hinting that Ritaestelle might no longer be the main suspect in Evie’s death. She hoped to draw some other suspect out of the woodwork. Could that be why she was attacked?”
“That fits,” Mike said. “Candy has been researching something called a forensic interview. She says that interviewing while paying attention to demeanor is almost as good as tangible evidence. That’s why she came to reinterview Ritaestelle. What she saw, as well as what she heard, probably made her doubt Ritaestelle’s guilt. Getting out the word that Ritaestelle wasn’t the only suspect would be important.”
“Did Candace talk to Kara to get these ‘hints’ out to the public after she left your house?” Tom asked me.
I glanced around the room looking for her. “I don’t know, but when I called Kara, she said she’d be here at the hospital.”
I caught Shelton’s eye then, and she made her way over to us. Meanwhile, I was reminded by this crowded room, these many people with concerned faces, that I knew nothing about Candace’s condition. That bothered the heck out of me. Was her mother with her? Was she awake? Was her injury so serious that she might die? No, I couldn’t think about that.
Shelton said, “Do you know anything?”
“No one’s given any of us a report,” Mike said. “I can only hope they’re too busy helping Candy so they don’t have time for us.”
“That’s a good way to look at it,” I said. Good enough that I felt like the tension that had grabbed hold of every muscle in my body seemed to ease a bit.
“She was your friend. This must be hard on you,” Shelton said.
“She is my friend,” I said.
Tom, Mike and Morris wandered in the direction of the vending machines, still talking about evidence and neighborhood canvasses and possible weapons. I felt even more relieved when they left. This wasn’t procedural for me; it was gut-wrenching, and it was all I could do to hold back the tears.
“I’m really sorry this happened,” Shelton said.
This was the person we’d spoken to in the park the day of the murder, not the hard, cold woman who had pulled me over. “I’m so worried.”
“She’s one of our own, so we’re all troubled, but your worry is different. More intense.” Shelton glanced at the array of sofas and chairs that filled the room. “Where’s Ritaestelle?”
“I had to leave her alone. And that’s bothering me, too. What if this person comes after her next?”
“Do you know of some specific reason they might do that?” Shelton had slipped back into cop role.
“Who knows what any of this is about? But she didn’t feel safe at home. That should tell you something.” Again, my anxiety made me sound curt.
Shelton checked her watch. “It’s late. I wouldn’t want to wake her, but I could park outside your house, make sure nothing happens to her. How’s that?”
“You’d do that?” I said.
“She and I are friends, even if I was stupid enough to have been suspicious of her in the last few months.”
I wanted to hug the woman. “Oh my gosh, I’d feel so much better if you’d do that.”
“I’ll leave right now,” she said.
Nancy Shelton, always in her blue suit with its shiny buttons and those comfortable-looking shoes, left. Why couldn’t Lydia take a clue from a professional? The thought of Lydia made me glance around, wondering if she was hanging around, too, but I didn’t see her—and I sure didn’t want to.
I checked the cat-cam feed on my cell phone and saw Ritaestelle sitting on the sofa. I noticed that she’d gotten dressed. Maybe she decided she wouldn’t be sleeping at all tonight, and in her world, I imagined that being awake meant being dressed. She was entertaining Syrah and Merlot with a feather toy while the other cats were batting buttons around.
Though I hated to disturb Ritaestelle, I didn’t want her to freak out if she heard a car outside. I didn’t see the telephone near her when I’d been checking on them, but she answered on the first ring, so she must have put it beside her.
“Jillian? Is that you?” she asked.
“Yes. I wanted—”
“How is Deputy Carson?” she asked. “I have been so concerned.”
“We don’t have any word on her condition yet. I’m calling because Chief Shelton decided to drive over and make sure you’re all right.”
“That is truly unnecessary, Jillian,” Ritaestelle said. “I have been scrutiniz
ed so much in the last few months, I must say being here alone feels safe.”
“She might not even come to the door, said she planned on parking outside to watch the house,” I said. “But since I saw you were awake when I peeked in on my cat cam, I wanted you to know she’d be hanging around.”
“That is very kind of you, and I did not mean to sound as if I were complaining,” Ritaestelle said. “You have been generous to a fault. Please call me back when you know anything about Deputy Carson. She is on my mind and in my prayers.”
We said good-bye, and I slipped my phone into my pocket. I still wondered where Kara was. But of course she knew Candace’s mother since Candace’s mom was always dropping by the apartment building. Those two could be together.
I didn’t see any reason why I had to wait here, clueless. No. I had to find them. So I left the waiting room and followed the signs to the ICU. Sure enough, they were sitting in the padded chairs that lined the wall across from the ICU doors. A desk between the doors and the visitors seemed almost like a blockade. A woman wearing scrubs sat at the desk focused on a computer monitor.
This is where I should have come to begin with—but like a good girl, I had to follow directions and go to that other place.
When Candace’s mother saw me, she stood and hurried to embrace me. Soon my shoulder was wet with her tears. “Why did this happen, Jillian? And why did she ever think she could do such a dangerous job?”
I hugged Belinda Carson tightly and said, “Can you imagine her doing anything else?”
Belinda pulled away and dabbed beneath her eyes with a crumpled tissue. “No. You’re right. But if I lose her . . .”
Again I said, “Candace is tough. She’ll come through this just fine. They’ve told you she’ll be all right, haven’t they?” This had to be true. It had to be.
“They haven’t told us anything, Jillian, and I am getting so upset waiting here, and—”
Kara said, “Why don’t you stay off your feet, Belinda? This might be a long night.” She put her hands on Belinda’s upper arms and guided her back to her chair.
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