Murder on the Third Try

by K. P. Gresham

  Pearl hurried past James W. “Bo! Are you all right?”

  “As long as you are.”

  James W. closed the door once all were inside. A feeling of safety came over him. Not just for himself. For his family. He was bone-tired, but this was the first time he’d felt “right” all evening. Pearl and Bo walked to the couch, Pearl clutching Bo’s good arm as if she’d never let go. Matt sat in the armchair, Angie on its arm, hugging him protectively. Aaron pulled out a chair from the dining table. All were safe. All were alive. James W. sighed with relief. “Anybody besides me needs a drink?”

  ***

  Bo couldn’t take his eyes off Pearl. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been covered in blood and shaking from head to toe. The EMTs had whisked him away from the crime scene before he’d been sure she was okay.

  Pearl snuggled into his good shoulder. “Thank God, you’re all right,” she whispered, then stretched up to kiss his cheek.

  Bo breathed deeply. Her hands were steady, her color good. And her eyes, her beautiful gray eyes, were filled with love.

  James W. walked in from the kitchen, carrying glasses and a bottle of brandy. “Now that’s a pretty picture.”

  Bo watched as drinks were poured and handed around. He studied each person as they accepted the brandy. It appeared everyone else seemed to be in one piece. He gratefully accepted the brandy, took a sip, then finally put forth the question that had been on his mind since he’d gotten shot. “Will someone please explain to me what the Sam Hill happened tonight?”

  ***

  Mike had been looking around the room, studying every detail of every face. They were all alive, he thought. Thank God.

  At Bo’s question, he raised his hand. “I think that’s my job.”

  Angie’s hug tightened. “Do we really have to do this right now? It’s after three in the morning.”

  “They all risked their lives for me tonight,” Mike said. “I owe them, and you, an explanation.”

  Angie sighed. “If you’re ready for it.”

  “Let’s start with the obvious,” Mike said. “Who am I and who the hell was Howard Rutledge.”

  Mike recounted how his father had discovered the Chief’s corruption. Mike Hogan Sr. had enlisted the help of his sons to gather evidence against Rutledge.

  When Mike told them how Rutledge had killed his father and brother, Pearl cringed. “How awful for you.”

  “Apparently that’s when I entered the witness protection program. I still don’t remember going through seminary, but tonight I remembered why I did.” He looked at Angie. “My hate was killing me.”

  “How’d you know Mandy Culver was your assassin?” James W. asked.

  “The UT records were the key,” Mike said. “She wasn’t Mandy Culver.”

  Pearl cocked her head. “But I was on the call committee for the Child Care Director position. Mandy’s resume´ was above reproach, as were her professors’ letters of recommendation. I even called one or two of them to get more information.”

  Mike nodded. “There was a Mandy Culver who graduated from the UT program last December.”

  “But?” Aaron asked.

  “But, she was from India. Her school I.D. shows a woman with long black hair and a bhindi on her forehead,” he said, referring to the red dot worn by many Hindu women.

  “What set you on to her in the first place?” James W. persisted. “Last I heard, you thought Aaron or my secretary was at the top of the list.”

  “Me?” Aaron put his brandy on the table with a thud.

  Mike shrugged. “You came here after I did. You’re on the trivia team. You’re from Cuba.”

  Aaron’s head snapped up. “How do you know that?”

  “I heard you talking to my security guard on Saturday morning. I’m from Miami, remember? Your dialect is Cuban.”

  Aaron drummed his fingers on the table. “Well, they said you were a smart one.”

  Mike felt a chill go up his spine. “Who’s they?”

  Aaron put his hands up. “I was sent here to look out for you. My people didn’t trust the feds to protect you. Rutledge had too many connections.”

  “Who are your ‘people’ and why did they send you?” Mike asked.

  “The victims of Howard Rutledge’s crimes. Specifically the ones who were sold as sex slaves. As for why they sent me? One of them is my cousin.”

  Mike’s eyes rounded. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Rutledge was pure evil. Thanks for protecting me.”

  Bo nodded. “And for giving me a gun to protect Pearl.”

  “Glad to be of service,” Aaron said.

  “So Aaron’s off the hook,” James W. said. “Why did you eliminate my secretary?”

  “Once you told me Sarah was asking after Chelsea’s remains, I found the link that tied all that together,” Mike said.

  “What link?” James W. asked.

  Mike shook away the question. “It’s private.”

  “Yep. That’s what I thought,” Bo said, staring at the floor. “I’m gonna miss that girl.”

  “Who?” Pearl asked.

  “Chelsea.”

  Mike felt Angie’s body start. “What?” she demanded.

  Mike took her hand. “Sarah is gonna need our support in the coming days. Rutledge is responsible for the death of her son and Chelsea. She doesn’t need us judging her right now.”

  “Chelsea,” Angie repeated. “How did Rutledge kill Chelsea?”

  “Actually, his daughter did. Chelsea must’ve seen something. Heard something.”

  “How?”

  “Mandy and Chelsea were lovers.” Mike said softly.

  “That’s why Chelsea never told us the name of her lover,” Bo said. “Mandy worked at the church and Chelsea was trying to protect her.”

  James W. frowned. “Zach accused Sarah of being a lesbian. That’s how Zach got custody of Tom. You’re saying Sarah—?”

  Bo shrugged. “Maybe for once Zach Gibbons was telling the truth. When you’re on the wrong side of what society decides is acceptable, you become very private.”

  Mike looked the sheriff in the eye. “I suggest we keep this discussion to ourselves. I’m not sure Sarah could handle being outed right now.”

  James W. nodded his agreement. “So back to Mandy. What made you settle on her?”

  “That photo you sent me of Sunday afternoon’s trivia team visit.”

  James W. cocked his head. “What about it?”

  “The Rangers confiscated my laptop,” Mike said. “Pull out your phone and show folks the photo.”

  James W. did, studied it, then handed the phone over so everyone could get a good look at the picture. “I still don’t get it,” he said.

  Mike nodded. “How many hands are on the trophy?”

  Bo squinted at the photo and Pearl did the same. “Six,” he said.

  “And how many folks are on the trivia team?” Mike asked.

  “Seven,” Angie said.

  “And whose hand isn’t on the trophy?”

  Bo’s eyes widened. “Mandy’s hand isn’t on the trophy!”

  “And she’s not looking at the camera. Her eyes are downcast.” Angie turned to Matt. “You mean that’s when she put the poison in your IV?”

  Mike nodded. “Think about it. That’s the only real opportunity anyone had to do the deed. Everyone was joking around and looking at the camera.”

  “I was taking the picture,” she argued. “I would’ve seen it.”

  “You were cracking jokes to make everyone smile,” Mike reminded her.

  “She poisoned you,” Angie whispered. “Right in front of everyone.”

  “She is Rutledge’s daughter,” Mike said dryly.

  “Who’s going to stand trial.” James W.’s eyes were hard. “Mandy’s listed in critical condition, but made it through surgery.”

  So it still wasn’t over completely, Mike realized. “I’m tired.” He looked at Angie.

  “That’s enough for one night,” Angie agreed.
<
br />   Aaron stood. “I’ve gotta open the station in three hours. Best I head for home.”

  “Another brandy before you go?” James asked.

  “I’m good.” Aaron gave Mike a nod. “Very good.”

  “So am I.” Mike said. “Thanks to all of you.”

  ***

  A half hour later, Mike sat on the edge of the guestroom bed. He’d showered off the splattered blood and grime of the hellacious night, And something else was gone too.

  His hate.

  The carnage of the last few days would stay with him the rest of his life. The dead and injured from the Benedict County explosion. Chelsea’s murder. Pendergast, Ballard and Tom Gibbons. Even Zach Gibbons’ death was now part of Mike’s history.

  All because of Rutledge’s hate.

  “But I was created to love,” he said into the empty room. He could sleep with that.

  He was reaching for the bedside lamp, when he heard a commotion coming from the front room.

  “James W., what the hell is going on here?” Elsbeth’s voiced thundered down the hallway.

  It didn’t take long for other voices to join in the ruckus. James W.’s angry retort. Resentment from Angie and Bo. So much indignation from Elsbeth. God only knew what Pearl was thinking.

  Coupled with the gory violence from earlier, he should have been overwhelmed, but he wasn’t.

  He reached for his pants and t-shirt, then pulled his walker close to the bed. He cared deeply for all of these people. Even Elsbeth. She was important to James W., and that made her important to Mike. He pulled himself to his feet and headed for the door.

  “These folks are here at my invitation,” James W. roared as Mike rounded the corner. The sheriff and Elsbeth were standing toe-to-toe in the middle of the room while Bo, Pearl and Angie stood at the dining table.

  Elsbeth’s finger slashed towards Pearl. “That woman wants to marry that murderer. After all I’ve done for her, she’s—”

  “Enough!” James W. pointed his own finger at Pearl. “That woman saved my life tonight. And so did Bo. If it hadn’t been for them, I would be dead right now.”

  “What?” Elsbeth demanded.

  Pearl shook off Bo’s hold. “Elsbeth, I killed a man. You can call me a murderer now too.”

  “You? Killed someone?” Elsbeth gasped.

  “And I would do it again.” Pearl walked around the table straight for Elsbeth. “And I am going to marry Bo. I’d like you to stand by my side when I do it, but that’s your call.” Pearl stopped only a foot from Elsbeth. “After tonight—especially after tonight—I’ve learned life is too short for me to put up with unhappy, judgmental people.”

  It took a moment for Elsbeth to understand that Pearl was referring to her, but when she got it, her face went crimson. “Get out. This is my house.”

  “And mine.” James W. stepped forward, separating the two women.

  Mike had seen enough. “Stop this,” he said from the doorway. “For the love of God, stop this.”

  All heads turned to him.

  Mike focused on Elsbeth. Her hands were shaking, but not with rage. Her face looked haggard and her eyes were puffed. “Where’ve you been? We were all worried about you.”

  Elsbeth’s voice cracked. “I went to Dannerton.”

  It was James W.’s turn to be surprised. “Why?”

  “You said you had to go there to investigate a murder.” Elsbeth swallowed hard. “Which wasn’t hard to find. All the flashing lights from the first responders. You weren’t there. But,” Elsbeth slapped at a tear that coursed down her cheek. “There was so much blood.”

  The anger drained from James W.’s face. “You didn’t—”

  “I was looking for you!” She cried.

  James W. went to her, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. “I’m so sorry, honey. I had to go to Pearl’s.”

  “I was scared something had happened to you too.” Elsbeth collapsed against her husband and sobbed. “Three men. All shot up. So much blood.”

  “You’ve been in Dannerton? All this time?”

  “I guess I fainted,” she said. “The EMTs wouldn’t let me drive until now.”

  “Elsbeth,” Mike said quietly.

  She raised her blood shot eyes to him.

  “What you saw tonight was hate,” Mike continued. “A very evil man killed those people. He almost killed all of us, including your husband.” He gestured around the room. “What you’ve got here are a lot of folks who care deeply about each other. They’re James W.’s family. They can be yours too.”

  Elsbeth sniffed. “But—”

  Mike held up a hand. “I know what it is to hate, Elsbeth. It made me a monster. You’re starting down that road. Don’t go there. You can’t love when hate consumes you.”

  “I love James W.” She sniffed.

  “Then stop being so angry with the folks he loves,” Mike said. “You have a choice. Give yourself the gift of love. It’s what we were created to do.”

  ***

  Angie’s heart swelled at Matt’s words. He remembers, she thought. Maybe not everything, but the main thing. He remembers what made him my Matt.

  ***

  Elsbeth’s face relaxed. The hard lines above her eyes softened, as did the thin, thin set of her lips. “I’ve always been this way. It’s what’s expected of me. I don’t a choice,” she whispered.

  “We always have choices,” he said. “We don’t have to be who we’ve always been.”

  And therein was his truth. For a time, he’d allowed hate to consume him. Now he chose not to hate. God had opened his eyes to something better.

  “I could use some tea. Anyone else care for a cup?” Pearl spoke up. She was addressing the room, but her eyes were steady on Elsbeth.

  Elsbeth turned to give Pearl a long look. “I’ll help.”

  As the two women headed for the kitchen, Angie rounded the table and went to Mike’s side. Her eyes were soft, her lips quirked in a smile. “How in the world did you pull that off?”

  He grinned. “God only knows.”

  “Well, I’m sending up a prayer of thanks that you’re safe now,” she chuckled. “You’re the only person who can shut that woman up.”

  Mike nodded. He was safe now. More importantly, his friends and family were safe.

  “It’s all over, isn’t it, Matt?” Her voice shook. “Or Mike. Or whoever you are.”

  “Whoever I am,” he repeated. “It might take a lifetime to answer that one.” He looked into her eyes. “Want to come along for the ride?”

  Her eyebrow arched. “Is that a proposal?”

  “You’re the one thing I’m certain about,” he said. “I love you, Angie.”

  “Then yes.” She kissed him. “I love you, too.”

  They parted when Elsbeth’s shrill holler came from the kitchen. “James Wilks Novak, Senior! What have you done to my spa?”

  James W. looked helplessly at Mike, then headed for the kitchen. “Now, Elsbeth…”

  Website: www.kpgresham.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kpgresham/

  Please share your thoughts about this book on K.P.'s Amazon page at amazon.com/author/kpgresham.

  Acknowledgements

  Although the act of writing itself is a solitary experience, it takes a village to get me published. I’d like to thank my village. Because of all of you, this book is finished.

  First off, thank you to my critique group whose incredible input was, as I say, golden. Fran, Helen and Kathy, thank you for slogging through the months of rough drafts. You make my writing better.

  Thank you to my Beta readers, Sharon and Pattie, for your patience and hard work. (And your fixes!)

  I had the pleasure of working with several incredible folks who served as my research experts. Dr. Bob Rice, thank you for all the medical info that made Matt Hayden’s hospital stay come to life. Whenever I need to hurt somebody, you’re my go-to guy. A special shout-out to fellow author, R.J. Pineiro, for helping me get the Cub
an dialect correct. (FYI, he writes a heckuva thriller. Check out his books on Amazon.) Charlie Dismore, thank you for helping me get my guns and ammo straight. (Sorry about pointing that .45 at your head…) Dear staff at Backspin Sports Bar and Grill in Austin, Texas, thank you for the copious hours you spent making sure I got the bar scenes right. (Wink!) And Dave, I hope you like the trivia storyline—that’s all thanks to you.

  Kay Hudson, you are an editor extra-ordinaire. And a special shout-out to my new cover artist, Elizabeth Mackey. Stef, thanks for helping me with my website. (The spa you and Mike put in the back of your house served as the inspiration for where I hid Diane’s body!)

  Finally to my beloved husband, Kevin, and my beautiful daughter, Bethany, thank you for being there for me through all the bad and the good. I love you. Beth, I hope you noticed that I named my Neuro PCU nurse Joanne, in honor of the incredible job you do in saving people’s lives every day.

  Thanks, village!!!!

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