The doorbell didn’t surprise Celia, for the local reporters had been trying to get a statement all day. “I might have to get out my rifle,” Aunt Aggie said as she got up and scurried to the front window to peer out into the darkness. Celia looked over her shoulder and saw Jill standing under the porch light. Quickly, she opened the door.
Jill was pale, tired-looking, and heavy tension lined her face. Celia stood aside to let her in. “Jill, what’s wrong?”
Jill hesitated, stared at the floor for a moment, then wearily met Celia’s eyes. “I’m sorry to hit you with this so late, Celia, but there have been a few developments in the case you should know about.”
“There have?” Celia asked hopefully. “What?”
Jill sat down on the chair in the foyer and rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t had time to apply makeup this morning, and her eyes were red and bloodshot. “Tell me about Lee Barnett.”
Celia frowned. “What about him?”
“When’s the last time you spoke to him?”
She shrugged. “Years. He’s in jail. Killed a man in a barroom brawl.”
Jill was watching her, as if evaluating her for the truth, and Celia wondered why. What could Lee Barnett possibly have to do with any of this? “He got out a couple of weeks ago,” she said. “And he’s in town.”
“In Newpointe?” Celia asked. “Why would he come here when he just got out of prison?”
“To be close to you.”
Celia’s eyes narrowed and she took a step backward. “Wait. What? No, that’s impossible. He doesn’t care anything about me.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, why should he? I hadn’t talked to him for a year or more even before he went to jail.”
“He called the house, though.” David had heard the exchange from the kitchen and came into the foyer now, dropping the statement like a lead ball that seemed to roll around in front of them.
“When?” Jill asked.
“Several times from jail. Asked for Celia, and I told him she didn’t live there anymore.”
Celia gaped at her brother. “You never told me that.”
“I forgot about it. I knew you didn’t want to talk to him.”
Celia looked troubled as she turned her eyes back to Jill. “So he got out just days before Stan was poisoned, and he came here to Newpointe? Jill, you don’t think he poisoned Stan?”
Jill obviously didn’t know what to think. “You’ve got to admit, Celia, that it’s an awfully convincing coincidence.”
“So, did the police question him?”
“Oh, yeah. Then promptly let him go.”
“Let him go?” David asked. “Why would they do that?”
“Because they aren’t convinced he’s a suspect. They think, instead, that he was Celia’s motive.”
“My what? Where did they get that?”
“The letter.”
Celia could see that Jill was watching her eyes for some reaction, waiting for a sign of guilt. But Celia was clueless. She had no idea what Jill was talking about.
“What letter?”
“The one that he claims you wrote him, telling him you rented him an apartment at Bonaparte Court and that you wanted him to come here.”
Celia could feel the blood draining out of her face. She struggled for the right words, but realized she needed to sit down. “Jill, you don’t really believe that I wrote a letter like that…”
“I don’t, Celia, but the police aren’t so sure. And then there’s the matter of the two checks written on your bank account. One written to him, and one to the apartment manager.”
“No! I didn’t write those checks.” She got up and paced across the floor, thinking. Suddenly, she swung around to Jill. “Our checkbook disappeared a couple of weeks ago. We thought we had misplaced it, so we just started with the next set we had in the box. Stan always kept it above the visor in his car, but it was just gone. Whoever poisoned Stan must have taken it!”
Jill sighed. “Celia, they searched your house tonight.”
“Again?” Her nausea reasserted itself.
“Yes.” Jill’s answer was clipped and matter-of-fact. “And I might as well just get it all out. They found something in your attic, Celia.”
“What?” she asked. “All we’ve got up there is junk, old clothes, stuff like that. What did they find?”
“Rat poison,” Jill said. “The main ingredient was arsenic.”
Celia shook her head and began backing away. “No. That was not in my house. We’ve never had a problem with mice. Why would we have rat poison?”
“Celia, I thought maybe the previous owners had left it there, but I talked to Sid and he said that it was a new box. It hadn’t even collected dust.”
“No!” she shouted, steadying herself. “He’s doing it again. He’s setting me up! Just like last time with the…the journal entries…the computer…the arsenic they found that time…” She turned to the wall and covered her head, as if she could protect herself from the cruel onslaught. “This can’t be. We didn’t have arsenic in my attic, Jill. I would have seen it. I would have known, and I wouldn’t want that anywhere near my house!” She swung around and gaped at Jill with helpless, hopeless eyes. “Jill, you believe me, don’t you? He hasn’t gotten you convinced, too, has he?”
“Of course I believe you,” she said, but Celia could see the doubt in her face.
“What about you, David?” Celia asked hopelessly. “Mom and Dad won’t believe me, but you do, don’t you?”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“And Aunt Aggie? I’d die if you didn’t believe me. I know the evidence looks bad, but—”
“I don’t care about no evidence,” she said. “Don’t now, didn’t then. I know my niece ain’t no liar.”
“Then what do we do?” Celia asked, wiping her face. “We have to start with the checks and the letter. It can’t be my handwriting. If it looks like it, it must be forged.”
“The only handwriting is your signature on the checks. The letter was typed.”
“Well, see? Anybody could have written it! And the check could have been forged! If someone stole my checkbook, it wouldn’t be that hard. All they’d need is my signature on something else, and they could copy it. They have to start by looking for my checkbook. Whoever has it is the one.”
Jill got up and began pacing across the floor. “Celia, they’re getting a warrant. They’re going to arrest you tonight.”
She turned back to Jill and shook her head frantically. “No. They can’t. Not with those photographers out there. Everyone will know.” She covered her mouth and took a deep breath. “No, I’ve got to go there myself. Turn myself in, so they won’t have to come after me. Maybe…maybe the judge will go easier on me, let me out on bond, if I do that.”
Jill nodded. “We can do that.”
“All right,” she said, wiping her face with trembling hands. “Then let’s do it.”