Patrick got up to check. “I guess so,” he said, taking out a Tupperware container with the pie in it. “Sloane and I demolished about half the pie, but there’s plenty left. Shall I get out some ice cream too?”
“Oh, no.” Nora shook her head. “I’ll take that with me, though, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t.” Patrick looked mystified. “What are you up to, Nora?”
“You’ll find out,” Nora said. “I need to talk to Burton first.”
“He’s asleep upstairs,” Patrick said. “I think.”
“Let’s find out.” Nora walked up, with Patrick behind her, beer bottle still in his hand.
*****
Chapter 8
Burton’s Confession
Nora rapped on the door to Burton’s apartment, and Burton answered, looking sleepy and disgruntled. Nora had taken a step back, and was observing his suite with some interest. She could only see a sliver through the open door. There was a photo of a much younger Burton with baby Sloane, icing on both their noses hung on a cream-colored wall, and an exotic, dragon-shaped dagger underneath it.
Burton followed her gaze and shrugged. “What? A man can’t own a cool dagger?”
“Just… an unusual contrast, that’s all,” Nora said.
“Come to lecture me on interior design at…” Burton looked at his watch, “eleven p.m.?”
“Actually, I came to ask you a question,” Nora said.
“Dad?” Sloane came out of the adjoining room, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She had on tattered grey sweatpants and a t-shirt with I don’t just see, I C++ written on it. “What’s going on?”
“I didn’t know you were a programmer,” Nora said, looking at her t-shirt with interest.
“Oh, I wasn’t. This was my boyfriend’s. We broke up but I hung on to this.” She gave a laugh. “I suppose I should buy one that says, I dated a nerd for three years and all I got was this stupid t-shirt.”
“Sloane, go back to sleep. Nora’s just here to talk to me.”
“What about?” Sloane’s eyes grew a little wider, and fixed on Patrick.
“Plants,” Nora said. “As in, does he also water and take care of the gardening here at the B and B?”
“Burton?” Patrick laughed. “Not a chance. He’s got a grey thumb—the plants all go grey if he comes within fifteen feet of them.”
Burton grinned. “Yep. Only plants I’m comfortable with are plywood boards.”
“Oh. Cool. Good to know,” Nora said. “So how come you had dirt on your hands the day Mia was found dead?”
“I… He was taken completely off guard, and she might as well have hit him on the jaw, for all the effect it had on him. He stumbled backwards, giving Nora the opportunity to push the door wider, and step inside.
“Dad?” Sloane was looking at him with big, scared eyes. “What is she talking about?”
His guilt was written all over his face, cementing Nora’s suspicions. He knew exactly what she was talking about.
He shook his head, though. He’d begun to sweat profusely, and his eyes were clouding with emotion. “What do you know?” He growled, stepping forward.
“I know that Mia and Sloane weren’t as indifferent to each other as you make it appear,” Nora said. “Sloane complained that she didn’t like Mia flirting with you.”
“All right, enough.” Burton put up a hand before Sloane could protest. “Before you say one more word, I have something to say.”
“What’s that?” Nora asked.
“I’m the one.” Burton stuck out his chin. “I killed Mia.”
There was a scream and a gasp. The gasp, from Sloane, whose entire face had contorted with shock; the scream, from Patrick, and one of pure rage. Pushing Nora aside, he cast himself on Burton, and sent the giant stumbling back, overturning a coffee table.
“Dirtbag!” Patrick screamed, as he grappled Burton. “We trusted you! Mia liked you! Why would you do this? Why!”
“It’s just…” Burton was passive, even as Patrick rained down blows on him. He shook his head, a tear escaping down his cheek.
“Stop it!” Sloane screamed, trying to yank him off. Patrick stopped, his fist in midair. He glared at Sloane, his face a mask of rage. “He killed my wife!”
“No he didn’t! He’s gone…he’s gone mad,” Sloane said. “I—”
“Sloane, don’t,” Burton groaned. “I did it. I confess.”
“One step at a time,” Nora said, hoisting Patrick off Burton, and then offering Burton a hand. Patrick stormed out of the room, his cell phone to his ear, clearly calling the sheriff. Nora knew she had very little time, and spoke fast. “First off, Burton, I know you planted the syringe in the planter. Is that right?”
Burton nodded. “I…yes. I wanted to give the police a red herring. Something they’d chase after.”
Sloane gave a little gasp of dismay. Tears began streaming down her face. “Why, Dad?”
“Yes. Why?” Nora asked. “Why were you trying to get Alvarez in trouble, Burton?”
“I wasn’t.” Burton protested. “I was just…” He looked at Sloane, then hung his head. “Never mind.”
“Why did you place that particular syringe in the planter, Burton?” Nora demanded. “Tell me!”
“I’ve confessed, haven’t I?!” Burton cried. “What more do you want? Leave me alone, let the police come and take me.”
“No,” Nora said. “You’ve confessed, but I think that’s a poorly put together lie.”
He looked baffled, as did Sloane.
“Why would I lie?” He asked. “I—”
“You think Sloane murdered Mia, and you’re trying to take the rap for her,” Nora said. “That’s why you’d make a false confession. False, and very misguided, but there’s time yet to sort this mess out. Be honest with me, Burton! Tell the truth!”
“Dad?” Sloane’s mouth was hanging open. “Y-you think I killed Mia? What?”
Burton couldn’t meet her eyes. “I know you did, baby,” he finally said. “I guess I can’t protect you anymore. I tried, but—”
“Dad!” Sloane took him by the shoulders and shook him hard, as though she were trying to wake him up. “Are you insane? It’s me! Sloane! Why would you think I—”
“I heard you talk on the phone to Donna,” Burton said. “I didn’t hear the whole thing, just something about Patrick, and how you didn’t want to tell me.”
Sloane squeezed her eyes closed. “Oh. Oh, no.”
“Yes. I knew you were having an affair with Patrick. I guessed that was your motive as soon as I saw Mia dead on the floor. But then, I saw the syringe under the fridge, and a half-smoked butt of your strawberry cigarettes. That’s when I knew you’d done it.” Burton’s eyes filled with tears. “I haven’t been there for you growing up, Sloane. I didn’t give you the moral guidance a child needs. This murder is my failure as a parent, just as much as it is your fault.”
“Right now, this whole situation is your failure to listen,” Nora said. “Burton. Stop talking, take a deep breath. Now.”
Burton stopped talking, but buried his head in his hands, tears falling from his eyes.
“Burton,” Nora said, “your daughter is not the murderer. The true murderer was trying to frame her but things got increasingly complicated.”
“What?” Burton looked up, flabbergasted, and was interrupted by the blue wash of siren lights through the windows.
Patrick came storming back in, and pointed an accusing finger at Burton, with Sean, his deputies, and Alvarez following close behind.
“There he is!” Patrick cried. “The man who murdered my wife!”
*****
Chapter 9
A Web of Errors
“I didn’t do it!” Burton protested, as Sean stepped forward with handcuffs out, looking grim and angry. “Wait! I didn’t do it!”
“Yes you did,” Patrick said. “Don’t lie! Nora and Sloane are both witnesses to the fact.”
“He didn’t do it,” Nora sa
id in a quiet voice, and Patrick looked at her as though she’d slapped him.
“Why are you defending him?” He asked in a whisper, his eyes pleading. “Tell Sean! Tell him how Burton confessed.”
“Burton confessed because he thought Sloane had done it, and wanted to save her from going to prison,” Nora said. “The father and daughter have just recently come into contact again, after years of being apart, and I think they’re both very protective of each other right now.”
“What? Then who?”
“I think we’d better let Nora speak,” Sean said decisively. He motioned to everyone, and automatically bowing to his leadership, everyone took a step back, and a seat wherever they could find it. Nora found herself the only person standing, with eager faces looking up to her for an explanation. She took a deep breath, it had only now clicked together for her. This mystery had so many moving parts, that explaining it would take some time. She opted to go for simplicity.
“Burton found Mia’s body at about six thirty a.m. yesterday in the kitchen,” Nora said. “But that wasn’t all he found. Sticking out from under the fridge, he also found a syringe, and a half-smoked cigarette butt. This particular cigarette was his daughter’s brand, and Burton immediately concluded that Sloane was in love with Patrick and had poisoned Mia.”
“That’s right,” Burton admitted, looking ashamed.
“Now, the reason he thought so, was a conversation he’d overheard Sloane having, which made him think she loved Patrick. That’s far from the truth; in fact, Sloane was talking to Donna about one-sided love letters Patrick had been sending her.”
“What!” Patrick exploded. “That’s a lie! I—”
“Wait your turn to speak,” Sean said, and the steel note in his voice had Patrick immediately quieting down.
“Thanks Sean.” Nora nodded at him gratefully. “So, Burton’s in the kitchen, and he sees the syringe and cigarette. He’s convinced it’s his daughter Sloane, and he’s desperate to protect her. But how? There’s no time! He feels urgency building up as the seconds pass so he does the best thing he can think of. Picking up the syringe, he wipes it clean of any fingerprints with his handkerchief, and along with the cigarette butt, he disposes it in the wastepaper basket placed near the reception. But Burton is troubled. He wants to plant a red herring that will distract the police, and what does he find in the wastepaper basket? Lo and behold, three used syringes. Picking one up, he places it in the potted plant, hoping it’ll lead the police on a wild-goose chase.”
“Aha!” Alvarez exclaimed. “That’s the syringe with my fingerprints on it! Burton, you snake! You tried to get them to arrest me!”
“I didn’t know it’d become key evidence,” Burton said, looking miserable. “I hoped they’d eventually get confused and just drop the case. I’m sorry, Alvarez, I didn’t want to get you into trouble.”
“As if I’d believe that!” Alvarez said. “My lawyers got me bail today, and as their next task, they’re going to sue you for a few million dollars! You better believe you’re in a whole lot of trouble!”
“Hang on, Alvarez.” Nora smiled. “You might change your mind about that soon. My story’s not done yet. So here we are, Burton’s messed up the crime scene, hoping to confuse the police. But Sean’s a smart guy. He noticed that the three syringes in the wastebasket weren’t all alike. Two had Alvarez’s fingerprints on them, and one was wiped clean. So he figured out the switcheroo.”
“Come on, Nora. Give yourself credit. I only figured it out after we had that rainy conversation.” Sean smiled. “But yes, I knew then that someone had planted one syringe in the pot deliberately. I just couldn’t figure out why.”
“You will, soon,” Nora said. “I put together that it had to be Burton who did it because he was wiping dirt off his hands that day, when he came to call you to the kitchen, Sean. Dirt from the planter he hid the syringe in.”
“Ah.” Burton put a hand to his eyes. “You got me.”
“Ok, so that’s mystery one,” Nora said. “So what do we know now? We know that when Burton found Mia, the crime scene looked like this: Mia, dead with a half-eaten croissant near her, and the cigarette and syringe under the fridge. Correct?”
Everyone nodded.
“Now, let’s go back in time a little more,” Nora said. “Back to Mia’s movements since the night before. Back to the fact that Patrick—very unusually—didn’t wake up on time.”
“What?” Patrick looked surprised. “So I overslept. So what?”
“You didn’t oversleep,” Nora said, “you were drugged. If you look on the kitchen counter, Deputy Smith,” Nora said, turning to Sean’s deputy, “you’ll see a key piece of evidence: the apple pie Patrick had for dinner the night before the murder. It was baked by Mia, and by my guess, has a sleeping powder mixed up in it. Better get it to the lab for testing.”
Deputy Smith looked at Sean, nodded, then immediately got up and ran downstairs to bag the evidence.
“Why would Mia want to drug me the night before she was murdered?” Patrick asked, confused.
“Mia was frustrated and angry with my partner Tina,” Nora said. “She wanted to pay back the woman who had dared to stand up to her. So she gave you a powder to ensure you’d sleep tight, and snuck out of the house earlier than usual. Then, she threw a brick through our diner’s picture window.”
“That’s true.” Sean nodded. “We have found traces of brick under her fingernails."
“But Mia didn’t realize she sealed her own fate when she committed that crime,” Nora said. “You see, she changed the order of things. It was always Patrick who ate first. It was Patrick who would have eaten that croissant, if Mia hadn’t chosen that unfortunate day to drug him, throw a brick, and then come back and eat her breakfast early.”
There were gasps around the room. Patrick’s face had gone grey. In a strangled voice, he whispered. “What do you mean?”
“The murderer never meant for Mia to die,” Nora said. “It’s you he was after, Patrick. You were supposed to be the victim, and Sloane the patsy who’d take the fall.” She paused, her eyes sweeping across the room. While most of the faces had differing shades of surprise, shock and confusion, one face had only anger and dismay written on it.
“Isn’t that right, Alvarez? Mia messed up your perfectly laid plans by seeking out her vengeance on Tina. How confused you must have felt! First, instead of Patrick, Mia is found dead. Then, a syringe with your fingerprint is found in the planter! You were so sure it was all a big conspiracy and I’ll admit, it was indeed bad luck for you.”
“I don’t know what you’re blabbering about!” Alvarez stood up, angry. “This is all a bunch of nonsense. Even if it is true, it still doesn’t prove that Sloane isn’t the killer. Even if Patrick was the intended victim, how do you explain the syringe and Sloane’s cigarette being found near the fridge?”
“You put it there, of course,” Nora said, “to implicate Sloane.”
“Why would I do that?” Alvarez exclaimed.
“Well, I’ve got Sean to thank for helping me figure out this one.” Nora smiled. “It’s because Sloane rejected you. You wrote her heartfelt love letters, didn’t you, Arsalan “Lion” Alvarez?”
Alvarez’s face was turning purple and red in equal measure. His eyes were glittering with malice. “You can’t prove that!”
“Are you sure?” Nora smiled. “Once Sean has his technical team analyzing your computer, they’re bound to find out it was you.”
“They won’t find a thing,” Alvarez said, triumphantly. “Let them look!”
“Did I say your computer? I meant the computer down in the conference room,” Nora said. “You’re smart, I’ll give you that. Smart enough to cover your tracks carefully. You used that computer late at night, just so it couldn’t be traced back to you.”
Alvarez had a smug smile on his face, “I have no comment,” he said.
“But there are ways to trace it to you, you know.” Nora smiled. “For example, if y
ou accessed your own email in the same time frame, Sean’s team will have forensic proof.”
Alvarez’s smile slipped.
“Wait, hold on,” Sloane said, clutching her head. “You’re telling me that Alvarez tried to kill Patrick and frame me? Because I rejected him?”
“Well, partly because you rejected him, and partly because with Patrick no longer around, Alvarez and Mia would be free to live together,” Nora said. “Alvarez didn’t want Mia to divorce Patrick. The process would take too long, and her finances would get affected. This probably seemed cleaner to him. Two birds, one stone.”
“Smart,” Alvarez said, “really smart. You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“Looks like it,” Nora said. “Your attempt to frame Sloane was ruined by Burton, and karma landed you in jail after all. You managed to get bail once. I think the second time around, you won’t be so lucky.”
“I’m not waiting for a second time around,” Alvarez said, pulling out a gun. “A day in jail was far too much for me. I’m never going back. Never!”
“Alvarez,” Sean said standing up, “calm down and let’s talk.”
“Stay back!” He waved his gun around. His eyes had turned bright with hate, and even in the cold night, sweat made his shirt stick to his body. His face was one of a man who’d finally become unhinged.
“Just put the gun down,” Sean said, trying to keep his voice friendly. “Let’s discuss this, Alvarez. Come on.”
“No! Stay back! You, Sloane, step toward me. Slowly.”
“What?” Burton looked furious. “Stay away from my daughter, you little creep.”
“I’m taking her as a hostage.” Alvarez was shivering now. “Yes. I’ll take her with me, as insurance. The rest of you better stay put.”
Nora had been inching closer to him ever since Alvarez had pulled out his gun. From the other side, she could see that Patrick was doing the same. Their eyes met, and they gave each other the briefest of nods.
Alvarez was still distracted, screaming at Sloane, when the two charged him, sweeping him onto the floor. He screamed violently, and swung the gun around, connecting with the side of Nora’s head.
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