Reading Between the Crimes

by Kate Young

  The smile dropped from Charles’s face as he extended his hand; his tone dripped with charisma as he said, “You must be Calvin Cousins.”

  “I am. And you would be?”

  “Charles Hammond.”

  “Mr. Hammond is the man who helped with the apprehension of my attacker,” I volunteered. “He’s writing a novel about small towns and the secrets they keep.”

  Calvin shook his hand. “I see.” Calvin hesitated before releasing his hand. “Have we met somewhere before?”

  “I don’t think so. But I do travel quite a bit.” He turned toward me and smiled. “I was just having a nice chat with your niece here. She’s something all right. Going through that awful attack and back in the muck on another case. A tough cookie, she is.”

  Calvin regarded him warily. “It’s what we do here.”

  “Yes. I know.” He bent down and picked up his cup and scone. “Thanks for this. You have my number.” He winked at me and started for the door.

  “You’re welcome. Good luck with your novel,” I said with a sarcastic half laugh, and then caught myself. Why was I so eager to antagonize Charles again? I’d never met anyone like him in my life.

  He smiled and paused, turning back toward Calvin. “Come to think of it, you look a bit familiar to me too. Any relation to the Folsom family in the Plains—”

  I’d never seen my uncle fight for control of his facial expression in my life like he did then. “No.” His tone came out low and menacing as he cut Charles off. “Good day, Mr. Hammond. I trust this is the last we’ll see of you.”

  My gaze darted between the men.

  Charles smiled. “Funny thing, trust.”

  “What?” I asked.

  Charles turned toward me. “Trust is a paradox. Sometimes it can be misplaced and—”

  Calvin closed the distance to the door in a flash and shoved Charles out, slamming the door and locking it behind him.

  Charles does know things about my family. “What was that about?” I gaped at my uncle. “The guy’s a nut.” I let out a nervous laugh. “Harmle …” I began, but the word died in my throat.

  Calvin didn’t laugh. His chest heaved. “Something is wrong with him.” He pointed at me. “I don’t want you anywhere near that man.”

  I raised both hands in a defensive posture. “I’m not planning on hanging out with the guy. I’m only interested in what he can do to help Harper.”

  “He intrigues you. I can see it all over your face. You were enjoying whatever banter the two of you had going before I got here.”

  “He’s odd. But a lot of writers are.” I tried desperately to read his strange reaction—hoping that he and Mother weren’t hiding some awful secret. “Why did you freak out when he asked you about that family?”

  “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to get into it.”

  He started toward his office.

  “Was it about a job you did? Or …” Again my voice trailed off.

  He turned and pointed toward the door. “He’s looking for dirt. Dirt he can turn into a buck.”

  I made a face. “Yeah, I know that. But you’re awfully rattled over it. Why?”

  “This family needs some peace,” he bit out, and his nostrils flared. “We’re working on a case that now I see we probably shouldn’t have taken. The Richardson family has caused nothing but trouble.”

  “Wow.” I took a step back. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be working this case.”

  “Don’t patronize me, little girl.”

  “What?” I threw my hands in the air. “Patronize you? I simply asked a question. I’m not going to allow Harper to get locked up because we dislike the family. Let’s overlook all these inconsistencies. Hell, why do we fight anything? We should just lie down and let everyone and everything roll over us.”

  “Enough!”

  I jumped.

  He ran his hand over his chin, which needed a shave, and blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice.” He put his hand on my shoulder, and I fought the urge to cringe. “That’s not what I meant. Lyla, I’ve done things in my life that I’m not proud of. Many of us have.”

  He sighed, and I waited for him to elaborate. When he dropped his hand, he pointed to the door. “I plan to find out everything I can about Charles Hammond. And if that asshole thinks he can blackmail us into helping him write his filth, we’ll f—ing bury him.”

  My mouth fell open. He hadn’t just said ‘bury him.’ He’d dropped the f-bomb through gritted teeth before the word ‘bury.’ Charles had no idea whom he was dealing with, and right now, neither did I.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Melanie, Amelia, and I sat in the corner booth at the Trail Head Grill. We’d just finished our meal, and I told Mel about LJ driving the Hewitt Electric van.

  “Wow.” Mel leaned back and pushed her plate away. “Do you really think it’s dangerous for Amelia to go over to the Richardson house alone?”

  “Yes.” I shook my head. “No. I don’t know.” I turned to Amelia. “I may have overreacted. Seeing LJ in the van freaked me out, and I may be just a little overprotective. Just take someone with you to be on the safe side.”

  “Yeah, it doesn’t hurt to be safe.” Amelia seemed to be pondering. “I could take my assistant along. Yes. That’s what I’ll do.”

  “Good.” I let out a little sigh. “Although—”

  The waitress came by and took our plates, leaving the bill behind.

  “What?” Amelia asked after we split the cost of the meal.

  “I wonder if LJ is authorized to sell the property. Last I heard from Mr. Jenkins, the will hadn’t been probated, and the bank accounts were frozen.”

  “Oh. I wouldn’t know about that. But it’s something I will ask when I go out to the property.”

  I took a deep breath. “I have one other thing to tell y’all.” Their eyes were wide as I told them what had happened in the office. My conversation with Charles was a real point of interest, but they were both stunned into silence when I told them how my uncle had reacted.

  “Wow. What’s your read on the writer? Do you think Calvin is onto something about him? Or maybe he was lying?” Amelia asked as she took a sip from her glass.

  I glanced off, considering her question. “Honestly, I think Charles told me the truth. He knows something about the Richardsons, and I think”—I took in a deep, shaky breath—“my family too.”

  Amelia reached out and took my hand, and Mel said, “You poor thing. Not only do you have to deal with Harper’s case, but you’ve also had an attack on your life. You are my hero. How you’re managing to stay upright is astounding.”

  “Mel’s right, Lyla. You are as tough as nails.”

  Mother would be pleased.

  I smiled. “Y’all, I appreciate the support and encouragement. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” I glanced down at my watch. “And I have to go in a minute. I’m planning on running by and seeing who exactly was the technician on the Ross job the night of the murder.”

  Amelia nodded. “Good idea. Maybe Mrs. Ross will let you see a copy of the work order.”

  “Exactly what I’m hoping for. That should be more inconspicuous than calling the company. If LJ is involved, I don’t want to make him suspicious that we suspect him until I have something more solid to go on. Then I’ll be lighting that company’s phone lines up.”

  “I had a bad feeling about him from the get-go.” Mel pushed up the sleeves of her pink sweater. “The whole family is whacko. Harper married a crazy man and moved into his insane asylum.”

  She’d get no arguments from me there.

  “Since Rosa isn’t here, I have to play devil’s advocate.” Amelia leaned closer, glancing around, and then whispered, “And please, don’t hate me for bringing this up. What if Harper, in her desperation, perhaps let something slip to LJ that she wished Leonard dead?”

  Mel opened her mouth to argue, but I held up my hand. “No, Mel. This case is going to be tried in ope
n court. The prosecution has tons of evidence against her. Until we have something solid to present even a plausible case for reasonable doubt, she’s up the creek.”

  Mel scrubbed her face with her hands. “Okay, okay. So if we consider her as the guilty party, just like the cases we look at in our club meetings, we can rule her out.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay.” Mel dropped her hands. “That makes sense to me.”

  “Let’s examine what we know. One, Harper was unhappy in her marriage. She was having an affair with her stepson.”

  Amelia shivered. “Sheesh, that sounds creepy.”

  “Stepson her age,” I added.

  Melanie nodded. “Yes, that sounds better.”

  “She asked me to locate an aunt who, by all accounts, seems to have vanished into thin air.” I leaned over and grabbed my bag, pulling out my tablet and stylus. Everyone waited while I jotted down what we’d listed so far.

  “And not to sound absurd,” Amelia said, “but most of the time, someone close to the victim in a case like this is the guilty party. And just like in Crooked House, sometimes it’s the most innocent-looking one in the family.”

  I nodded. “And Harper did say that Beatrice brought her the cup of tea, and it was the only thing Harper ingested before her arrest.”

  Mel pointed at me. “Lyla, didn’t you say that Beatrice was at the charity event?”

  I nodded.

  “You saw her, Mel. How could she have pulled off something like that? She weighs eighty pounds soaking wet.” Amelia shook her head.

  “What does that have to do with anything? Leonard was poisoned,” Melanie pointed out.

  “But the candlestick is still missing.” Amelia shifted in the booth.

  “True, but it isn’t the murder weapon.” I scribbled on the tablet. “And Harper nearly died of an overdose of the drug. Leaving the cops to believe she couldn’t handle the guilt of her crime. But to Amelia’s point, and having seen the body firsthand, it looked like someone wanted to make sure he was dead. Even after he dropped from the overdose.”

  Mel leaned closer to the table. Amelia and I mirrored her as Mel said, “Maybe we should discuss this somewhere else or at a better time.”

  I glanced around and noticed that we’d started drawing attention. A couple at the table across from us were whispering and staring our way—time to go. The three of us hurried out of the booth and exited the restaurant, keeping how heads low.

  “They added some extra decorations this year,” Melanie commented as we stood by Amelia’s car. “I’m glad things here still feel sane.” The square was lit beautifully, and all the fall decorations were complete for the pub crawl this weekend. I loved our town so. I nodded and wrapped my arm around my friend’s shoulder as she sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. She hurt deeply for Harper.

  “Yeah. It is good to have a little peace to enjoy.” Amelia opened her car door and tossed her purse inside.

  “Yes.” As I smiled at the sights before us and looked forward to the pub crawl, despite the tragedy that had befallen our friend and town, Charles’s words came back to me: “All families have secrets. Some are benign, and others are dark and sinister. I wonder if you know which your family harbors.”

  A car alarm went off, and Melanie giggled. “Talk about a jump scare.”

  We all laughed. It sounded high-pitched and nervous.

  Amelia’s phone rang. She glanced down at her smartwatch. “That’s Ethan. I better run; he’ll be worried.”

  We hugged her and waved as she pulled out of the parking lot.

  Mel looped her arm through mine, and we crossed the street to our cars. “I know it sounds stupid, but I still can’t get the story Crooked House out of my head whenever I think of that family. We have to do our best to get Harper off this ridiculous charge and out of that family for good.”

  “I’m doing my best, Mel.”

  “I know you are.” She gave me a sad smile. “Have you thought about asking Rosa for help? I know you want to know more about Charles Hammond, not only about his connection to the Richardson family but also to yours. If she helps you, Calvin won’t find out.”

  I nodded. “Yes. I plan to see if Rosa can help me do a little digging. But only if it won’t hurt her position in the police department. And also because she might be beholden to the detective, and that man is hell-bent on putting Harper away for good.”

  “That’s a good idea. What about this Spider fella? Any news on that front?” Melanie leaned against her car. I’d parked right next to her.

  “No. Last I heard, he was still nonresponsive. Who knows if he’ll ever wake up? The doctors say he will, and Quinn said a sketch of the man behind the money would be sent to me, but it hasn’t been yet. I don’t think Atlanta PD has any real leads other than hearsay and Spider or whatever his name is. Calvin and I went through our records today after things cooled down, and no one rang any bells. The cases we’ve handled lately haven’t been the type to leave disgruntled exes seeking revenge.” I shrugged. “No one has made another attempt, and I’m keeping my eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. I haven’t seen the sedan again, but whoever is after me won’t catch me unawares again.”

  “You’re packin’?” Mel asked, her voice implying she hoped I’d gone there.

  I patted my purse with a smile.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Lyla, why don’t we go out for ice cream?” Mother smiled at and me and took my hand. The idea of delicious, cold, hand-dipped butter pecan ice-cream nearly had me drooling. I grinned up at her and squeezed her hand, nodding vigorously.

  She buckled me into the passenger seat while I held my tablet and kept taking notes on Harper’s case. Mother hummed and sang in time with the old song “Summer Days.” It was a scorcher today, even with the windows down, and the breeze blowing the skirt of my pale blue sundress offered not much relief. Georgia summers could be like that.

  I glanced up from my tablet to see Mother had driven off the road and was headed straight for the cliff. I screamed and shouted for her to stop!

  Mother didn’t seem to hear me. She turned to me, and her eyes were all white.

  “Some family secrets are dark and sinister. It’s better if they’re buried with us.” She floored the car, and we were airborne.

  I woke in the darkness, sitting straight up in bed, panting. My damp hair stuck to my forehead and the side of my face. My God! Had I dreamed I lived in Agatha Christie’s Crooked House? Mother had been Edith, driving me off the cliff. Wow. Charles’s secrets and the similarities my club saw in the Richardson case sure had gotten to me. This case with Harper’s twisted family living in their version of Crooked House.

  My phone began ringing, and I nearly leaped out of my skin. A glance at my phone’s screen showed me both Gran’s smiling face and that it was roughly six thirty in the morning. I wiped my hair from my face and answered the phone. “Gran, is everything okay?”

  “Hi, sweetie pie. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  I blinked a few times before answering. “Uh, yeah. It’s six thirty, and I worked late.”

  “Sorry about that. It’s just, well, I thought I should call you. James said you were supposed to come by last night, but he didn’t get off in time. For some reason, he seemed to think that you shouldn’t come by if he wasn’t here to, um, explain things.”

  “Yeah, I’d planned on coming by after dinner, but Daddy called and told me not to bother coming by because he’d be late.” My hand went involuntarily to my heart. “Explain things. What is it? Everyone is okay, right? No one is ill?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. Not physically ill anyway. It’s Frances. She’s been acting odd lately. And I don’t mean the normal odd for your mother, but really odd.” Gran did sound worried, but she tended to be a little dramatic at times. It was part of her charm.

  “She’s probably still shaken up about what happened to Leonard Richardson.” I got up and padded down the steps and into the kitchen. I ne
eded coffee.

  “Maybe. It’s just—well, I heard her whisperin’ to herself in the pantry earlier today. She’s been watching the local news and reading online incessantly.”

  “She’s been through a lot. First, the murder, then forensics and cops coming and going at all hours. Add that to my attack that made local news, and I think she’s holding up well.” I got a mug out of the dishwasher. “I saw her out to eat with her ladies’ group.”

  “I’m tellin’ ya, honey. Somethin’ is off about her. She was up in the attic for hours last night. I kept hearing her movin’ around above my bedroom. She doesn’t sleep anymore unless your daddy gives her a pill. I’m worried.”

  My hand stilled halfway to closing the dishwasher. Had Charles said something to her about family secrets that triggered what Gran was describing? I had a busy day ahead of me. Mr. Jenkins had called late yesterday to tell me about Harper’s arraignment today. He apologized for the late notice. I’d already made the decision to go by Mrs. Ross’s, so I’d have to squeeze everything in today. I could not leave Gran on her own.

  “Okay, that does sound like unusual behavior. I’m going to hop in the shower, run by the bakery, and grab a really strong cup of coffee, and then I’ll be over there.”

  “Good. I’ll just feel better having a second opinion.” I didn’t even comment that our opinion paled compared to that of the psychiatrist, a leader in the field, in other words, Daddy. “Get me a few of those bear claws while you’re there.”

  “You got it.”

  At seven thirty, I was on my way to my parents’ house. I was downing my double shot macchiato as fast as I could without burning the roof of my mouth. I’d called Mrs. Ross, and she said she would be expecting me this morning, which made popping over and questioning her more straightforward than I had expected.

  Gran’s concerns had resonated a little more as I’d showered. I thought about the times I’d briefly spoken to my mother after the incident at the house. She’d been distant, which didn’t surprise me after the ordeal, but she hadn’t chastised me about my involvement or blamed my job for the attack. I was not complaining; it just wasn’t like her to keep her opinions regarding my life to herself. I feared what Charles could have said to upset her. He’d sure done a number on Calvin.