“That’s great, Mrs. Allister,” Sidney announced cheerfully. “I’ll be visiting her later today.”
“I’m working until five tonight,” Mary reported with enthusiasm. “What can I get you two? It’s on me. It’s the least I can do for all that you’ve done for Trisha.” She then looked at Harlan. “I owe you so many apologies, Harlan. If there’s ever anything I can do--?”
Harlan smiled politely. “You can start by not thanking me anymore. If I was some sort of hero, I think Herb would appreciate me a lot more.”
Mary let out a sharp snort. “You wait until I see that grouch. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.” She then smiled and gave Harlan an approving once-over. “He should be proud to have such a heroic man dating his daughter.”
They ordered some coffee and tea then watched Mary return to the counter for their drinks.
Harlan shook his head and looked at Sidney. “What did I do?” he asked and snorted a soft laugh. “I got my ass kicked while your father carried Trisha out of the building. The house took care of Sam.”
“Accept hero status for a day,” Sidney remarked bluntly. “It may never happen again.”
“Damned right,” he snapped. “I’m not a fighter.” Harlan looked out the window and groaned. “I may have to rethink that last statement.”
Sidney looked out the window also and saw her father crossing the street and approaching the restaurant. She jumped from her seat.
“I’ll handle this,” she announced then hurried from the diner and stopped just outside the door.
Her father paused before her and raised a tiny smile. “Hi, baby,” he said softly.
Sidney folded her arms across her chest and glared at her father with limited patience. “I hope you didn’t come here to start trouble with Harlan.”
“No,” he replied softly. “You gave me a lot to think about last night, and I realized you were one hundred percent right for telling me off. I want to apologize for my behavior these past eight years.” He drew a deep breath. “I admit I was damned overbearing. Whatever your present relationship with Harlan, you have my complete support.”
Sidney was surprised by the comment. Her arms fell to her sides and her head tilted. “Will you apologize to Harlan?”
He nodded without hesitation. Sidney stepped away from the door to the restaurant and followed him inside. They approached the table near the window. Harlan looked up and rolled his eyes. He muttered something under his breath.
“I’m not here to start anything with you,” Herb announced gently. “I’ve come to apologize for everything I‘d said to you eight years ago, and everything I’d said to you last night. My insecurities about my daughter are something I’ll have to deal with. I should never have taken them out on you. I know you’d never do anything to disrespect my family or me.”
Harlan stared at her father a long moment then drew a deep breath. “Care to join us for breakfast?”
Her father sighed with relief then smiled more naturally. “I’d love to.”
Sidney sat in the booth alongside her father and across from Harlan. Mary approached with her pad and pen, ready to take their order. She stared at Herb with surprise and then pointed her pen at him with an angered look on her face.
“You, sir, are on my shit list!” Mary proclaimed loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear.
Herb looked at her with some surprise. “Me? Why me?” he asked.
“After all this man has done for both our daughters, and you can’t even get beyond whatever disagreement you two had eight years ago,” she launched. “That’s plain insulting!”
Sidney was slightly embarrassed. “It’s okay, Mrs. Allister. He’s apologized.”
Mary blushed and shifted from foot to foot. “Oh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized--”
“It’s okay,” Herb announced warmly and fidgeted. “I deserved it.”
Mary took their order without another word then scurried away. Her father leaned on his elbows and studied Harlan while Sidney drank some bitter tea.
“Pauline and I were discussing it last night,” he announced and released a gentle sigh. “If you want to marry Sidney, we’re proud to have you as a son-in-law.”
Sidney gagged on her tea then looked at her father with shock and dismay. Her mouth fell open and her cheeks immediately reddened. She looked back at Harlan and shifted uncomfortably. Harlan stared at her father with his same solemn expression and a timid smile.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harlan announced and didn’t bother correcting him.
Sidney stared at Harlan a long moment with surprise. Harlan looked back at Sidney and chuckled softly with amusement.
Chapter Thirty-six
Sidney eyed Harlan as they walked to Mrs. Cooper’s house, which was just a short distance from the diner. She shook her head and nervously ran her fingers through her hair.
“I can’t believe you did that,” she remarked sharply.
He looked at her with a gentle tilt of his head and an arrogant smile. “Did what?”
“Led my father to believe we might get married one day,” she snapped.
“Your father already thinks we’re lovers, and he’s accepted it,” he announced. “I didn’t see the harm.”
“I don’t understand the logic behind that,” she remarked.
“Why lower his opinion of me? It would just upset him all over again,” Harlan replied simply while they walked.
Sidney rolled her eyes. “You’re something else.” She then entertained the thought of being married to Harlan. She looked down the street toward Mrs. Cooper’s house and the woods. A feeling of defeat swept over her. It was useless to dream something so outrageous. She frowned and placed her hands in her pockets. They approached Mrs. Cooper’s house, walked onto the porch, and knocked on the door. Sidney then realized Harlan was staring at her.
“What’s with you?” he asked while sharply raising a brow. “You look annoyed about something.”
Sidney forced a tiny smile and shrugged. “It’s been a rough week.”
They waited a couple of minutes before the door was finally opened. Mrs. Cooper appeared happy to see Sidney and ushered them into the front room where she offered them some tea. Both declined. Mrs. Cooper sat in the chair across from them, wrenched her fingers together, and shook her head.
“I’m worried about Maria,” she said while looking at both. “She was so upset last night; I was afraid to leave her. When Billy came home, he had to give her a sedative.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Sidney replied. “Billy will take care of her.”
“Sam was a close friend of the family. He was best friends with her son since high school. When Mrs. Randall’s son died, Sam was there to comfort her and Billy. I just can’t believe he’d do something so underhanded.” She looked at Harlan then back at Sidney. “I mean, I know he tried to kill Trisha and both of you as well. I’m not that naive. I just don’t understand why.”
Sidney nodded sympathetically. “I understand your confusion, Mrs. Cooper. We’re equally stumped about his motive,” she replied. “We’re almost positive it had something to do with the murder of Emily Fisher. Trisha was investigating her death when she received the threat.” Sidney tensed slightly. “Do you think you could answer a few questions about that day? If you can remember.”
“Of course I can. My memory is very good,” she replied almost offended. “A lot better than Mrs. Randall’s, but don’t tell her I said that.”
Mrs. Cooper told her accounts of that day. Her story coincided with the original version she had told Sidney and Trisha earlier that week. Once she had finished, with as little speculation as possible, Harlan began to ask his questions.
“Where did you go that afternoon?” Harlan asked with great interest.
Mrs. Cooper looked at the ceiling and appeared to consider the question. “I left for the grocery store around four-thirty. Mrs. Randall usually goes with me on a Friday. They have discounts on all their canned good
s on Friday,” she informed them as if it mattered. “Mrs. Randall had to take Billy shopping at the last minute for some things. That boy hated to shop.”
“So you wouldn’t know if Sam had been this way the day of the murder,” Harlan remarked with a depressed sigh.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Cooper declared with enthusiasm. “I didn’t think much about it at the time. It was nearly six o’clock when I returned from the store. Sam drove past me in town with his dirty, old pickup truck.”
Harlan’s brows knitted. “Six o’clock? Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure, young man,” she remarked sternly. “I was home in time to watch my game show. It came on at six, though it’s not on anymore,” she remarked then pondered the comment. “They canceled it nearly three years ago. I hadn’t even known about the incident in the woods. The police must’ve driven right through the path to the bridge.”
“Where do you suppose he had been?” Harlan asked while leaning forward.
“Wouldn’t have been at Mrs. Randall’s. She didn’t come home until seven or so,” Mrs. Cooper said simply. “I suppose he could have been to her house, realized she wasn’t home, and returned to the bar.”
“Actually, Mrs. Cooper,” Harlan began, “Sam was seen heading this way around ten to five. He was somewhere for an hour if your story is accurate.”
“Of course it is,” she proclaimed with offense. “I know what I’m talking about. Your other source must be mistaken. There’s nowhere Sam would have been on this side of town except at Mrs. Randall’s place.”
Harlan was silent a moment then shifted uncomfortably before exchanging looks with Sidney. He then looked back at Mrs. Cooper. “Did you see Mrs. Randall return at seven?”
“Well, no,” Mrs. Cooper replied simply. “I don’t know what that--?”
“Did you talk to Mrs. Randall that evening?” he interrupted, not letting her control the conversation.
“Only briefly. She was exhausted after her shopping trip,” Mrs. Cooper said. “Why would you ask--?”
“The next morning, did she seem her usual self?” Harlan pressed sternly.
“Well, I, uh, don’t really remember,” Mrs. Cooper said and placed a hand to her temple. “We, uh, had a conversation about shoes, I think. She had a terrible headache that day. I remember that well. I gave her some of my special pills.” She appeared confused. “Why all the--?”
Harlan took Sidney’s arm and pulled her up with him as he stood. “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Cooper. You’ve been a tremendous help.”
“But, wait,” Mrs. Cooper announced and stood more slowly. “Why all the questions about Mrs. Randall?”
“We’ll show ourselves out, Mrs. Cooper,” Harlan announced and practically dragged Sidney out the front door.
Once they left the porch, Harlan hurried toward the woods. Sidney had to jog to keep up with his fast pace.
“Why are we in such a hurry? Mrs. Randall isn’t going to run away,” Sidney announced.
“Don’t be so sure,” Harlan replied. “I’d like to get there before Mrs. Cooper forewarns her of our visit. I don’t want to give her any time to perfect her story for that day.”
“But if our theory is correct, and she knew about Sam’s involvement, that would mean Billy knew as well,” Sidney remarked sternly.
“An accessory after the fact,” Harlan announced firmly. “It wouldn’t have been too difficult for Sam to leave the tavern, park along Cressman Road, intercept Emily by the bridge, kill her, then drive back to Mrs. Randall’s before Alex returned to find her dead.”
They crossed the bridge at a brisk walk.
“But Trisha said no one was home at Mrs. Randall’s when she went for help,” Sidney protested. “Certainly if Sam was looking for an alibi, he’d leave his truck in plain sight.”
Harlan stopped at the woods’ edge just before Cressman Road and the development and stared at her with some confusion.
“If she wasn’t home, wouldn’t he have returned to the tavern right away?” Sidney asked. “He was taking a greater risk being gone so long. I mean, he claimed he was at the tavern during the time Emily Fisher was murdered.”
“But we’ve established he wasn’t,” Harlan said softly and looked at the ground deep in thought. “I’m almost positive she was there,” he said and looked at her. “If he didn’t use her as his alibi, then he must not have done it.” Harlan’s eyes widened. “We have to hurry. I just had a terrible thought.”
§
Sidney and Harlan ran the rest of the way through the development. Sidney could hardly believe it of Mrs. Randall. They hurried onto the porch of the large home, where she lived with Billy. Harlan rang the doorbell. They waited impatiently, but there was no response. Harlan approached the large, bay window and looked between the separations in the curtains. Sidney knocked on the door with the brass knocker. Harlan suddenly ran back to the door and pushed her aside. Sidney looked at him with some surprise then watched as he turned the doorknob. It wasn’t locked! Harlan ran into the house with Sidney directly behind him. She froze with horror when she saw Mrs. Randall lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. She was twisted in an awkward position on her back with her pale hand on her chest. Harlan sank to one knee and checked her pulse.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” Sidney gasped and hurried down the hall to the phone.
“Don’t bother,” he announced and straightened.
Sidney froze and spun to face him as her heart pounded in fear of his words.
“She’s been dead a couple of hours. Call the police,” he said gently.
Sidney hurried to the phone and attempted to keep her hand from shaking as she dialed the number while tears welled in her eyes.
“And don’t touch anything else,” Harlan stated firmly.
Sidney suddenly looked at him with surprise at the statement. “Why?”
“It would appear she fell down the steps and had a heart attack,” he remarked simply. “But I’m not buying it.”
Sidney jumped when Sheriff Drukard answered the phone. She told him what they suspect had happened, and that he should get to Mrs. Randall’s house as soon as he could. She replaced the receiver and turned around. Harlan was no longer by the stairs. She looked around with concern.
“Harlan?” she called out and walked toward the stairs.
She peered at Mrs. Randall’s lifeless body as she passed. Harlan stood in the living room and stared at one of the older pictures on the wall.
Sidney looked over his shoulder. “Should I call Billy or wait for the police?”
“I’m sure he’s aware of her condition,” Harlan remarked bluntly, as his eyes narrowed while staring at the picture.
Sidney stared at Harlan’s profile with a surprised look. “What are you suggesting?” she gasped softly.
He looked at her and raised his brows. “Sam went to Mrs. Randall’s house for an hour, but he didn’t admit to being there. Mrs. Randall claims she wasn’t home, but she had to be, or Sam wouldn’t have risked staying there. The only possible explanation for neither claiming to be together is obvious. Sam didn’t need an alibi.” He then pointed to the picture on the wall. “Ever make this connection?”
Sidney looked at the large, framed picture of Billy from high school in his football uniform. There was a large number fourteen on his chest. Harlan placed his finger up to the picture and blocked the extension on the four, leaving two vertical lines. A chill ran down Sidney’s spine as she gasped and covered her mouth.
“Oh, my God!”
Harlan raised his brows sharply. “A dying woman’s last image is the number fourteen on a young man’s jersey, but she’s only able to complete two vertical lines.”
Her eyes were wide and horror-filled. “The letter from the school typewriter, Sam’s involvement, and the eleven--it all makes sense now!”
“Though we’re left with a lack of evidence,” Harlan remarked lowly.
She stared at him blankly, unable to think straight.
“What do you suggest we do?”
“We certainly can’t tell Sheriff Drukard what we suspect. It’s going to look like an accident, even in an autopsy,” he informed her. “Mrs. Cooper said Billy gave her sedatives. They’ll assume she was weak from the sedative, fell down the stairs, and had a heart attack from the shock of the fall. Suggesting Billy murdered Emily would be a mistake. We have no proof, and it’ll just give him time to perfect his story.”
“Oh, Harlan,” she gasped softly and rubbed her chilled shoulders while fighting her tears. “He killed his own grandmother?”
Harlan pulled her into his arms and held her against him. “We’ll think of something, Sidney,” he said gently. “Just keep yourself together, okay?”
Sidney clung to Harlan and sniffed softly. “I will,” she whispered into his shoulder.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Sheriff Drukard confirmed what Harlan suspected. It appeared to be a heart attack caused by her fall down the stairs. There was no evidence of foul play, as Harlan suspected there wouldn’t be. When Billy was contacted, Harlan insisted they leave. They walked in silence toward the woods. It wasn’t until they entered the woods when Sidney spoke.
“Do you really think Billy killed his own grandmother?” Sidney asked and gently bit her lower lip.
“She was upset about Trisha,” Harlan reported simply. “I think she would have told us what we wanted to know. Billy probably realized that.” He sighed and stared into the woods. “Her fall was estimated around eight o’clock in the morning.”
“But Billy’s gone by seven o’clock in the morning. Surely someone would have seen him return home or know if he left late,” Sidney announced.
Harlan shook his head. “You seem to be forgetting something, Sidney. Billy is an upstanding citizen. He was captain of the football team, and now he’s a doctor,” he informed her. “Sheriff Drukard isn’t about to accuse him of killing his own grandmother. There’s no proof. It would be unheard of. Even if they decide to do an autopsy, it’ll probably just prove she died from complications due to the fall.”
The Deadliest Institution Collection Page 87
