Forty-Three
“I got an interesting lead on the case today. One that had me rethinking things.” Alex paused as his phone vibrated on the table. He put down his sandwich and checked the screen with the speed and resigned expression of the off-duty cop. Then relaxed. “Megs.” He pushed the phone aside, let it ring unanswered. “I’ll call her back later.”
Matt cast a thoughtful glance at Alex. His copy of Hamadryads could have ended up in the box on the curb outside Chocoholic’s. And Meghan took some of them home. “Meghan picked up some books from Chocoholic’s the other day.” Though why Charley would feel the need to cover up for her, he had no idea.
“You’re dealing in fiction now?” Alex asked.
The pace of the pub around them worked up to a faster pitch, quickened by loud voices, the clink of cutlery, and the breakneck speed of the fingerpicked guitar notes.
“A short-lived side hustle, without pay,” he said. “I gave them away. Did you get a look at them?” The question sounded odd, even to him.
“The books?” Alex lifted a shoulder. “Haven’t had much time to read lately, believe it or not.”
“Right.” Dead end again. “Only, Charley returned ... one of the books. Turns out, it was pretty valuable. But she wouldn’t tell me where she found it.” Or who had it.
“Did she say why not?”
Trust a mystery to pique his interest. “Just that she made a promise. Seems to me she’s protecting someone.”
“From the wrath of the chocolatier?” Alex grinned. “I can tell you this much, no matter who she made that promise to, you won’t get her to break it.” He crunched a strip of bacon.
“Word of honour?”
“That and an iron will.”
Which only meant he’d have to find out another way. “Any updates on the break-in at the gallery?”
A hard-to-read expression crossed his face. “One painting is taking on a whole new light.”
“The one of Meghan?”
Alex shook his head. “The woman kayaking.”
Matt thought back, to his walk through the gallery. “The one Sarah bought?”
“Yeah. She phoned me this afternoon. Apparently, she saw something while kayaking one morning. Before Andrew’s death.”
The tone, too casual, caught his attention. Alex was working his way up to something. “Yeah?”
“It’s amazing how much voices can carry when you’re on the water. People don’t realize how easy it is to get a good view of the shore, the properties, from a boat. Even the houses.”
But Andrew’s house was set a ways back from the shore. “You’re saying she saw something?” The charged atmosphere of the pub seemed to push in on their booth.
Alex raised his glass. Condensation left a bullseye ring on his paper napkin, dead centre between the three black loons. “She overheard parts of a conversation — well, argument, taking place on the dock. According to her, it was heated.”
“Who was he arguing with?” Wouldn’t surprise him if it was Thomas. But they’d already ruled him out.
Alex took a long swallow of his bourbon before setting the glass back down with careful precision. He leaned forward. “He was arguing with Jeffrey. You know anything about that?”
He laughed. This was Alex’s hot new lead? “Those two were at each other all the time.”
“Petty disputes the whole town was well aware of. Only Sarah said this was worse. Jeffrey sounded furious.”
Seemed like her favourite pastime was spying on people. “Why didn’t she report it earlier?”
Alex shrugged. “Happens all the time. People stew over a clue, don’t want to bother the police with false accusations. She said she didn’t think it was important until today.”
His gut twisted. He pushed his plate aside. “Yeah, well, it’s not.”
Alex leaned back, eyes gone hard and sharp. “It’s interesting though. He’d know how to make the chocolate, wouldn’t he?”
“Are you listening to yourself?” But fear caught hold of him, had his stomach jumping in his throat. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Alex’s phone rang again.
Charley noticed the gun first. The shotgun pointed at the floor, hanging loosely at Jeffrey’s side.
He followed her gaze. “For safety. My own. And I’ll only use it if I have to.” He stood in the doorway to the office, shoulders filling the width of the frame.
A low, constant growl emanated from Cocoa’s throat, her hackles raised. His glance shifted to the dog.
Fear shot down Charley’s spine. She grabbed Cocoa’s collar. “Sit,” she told her. She couldn’t risk him using the gun on her.
Jeffrey’s eyes were no longer kind, no longer calm. But they weren’t filled with anger either. Instead, she saw resignation in them. He looked like a man who had walked out onto a ledge and could no longer turn back to save himself.
“But why?” Kayla’s voice was raw. “I don’t understand.” She shook her head, eyes gone blank with panic and shock.
But Charley understood, now. “You killed Andrew.” She kept her voice calm, level. No sudden movements. Nothing to make him feel threatened. So long as Cocoa didn’t lunge.
“Pointless to try and deny it now, isn’t it?” A crooked tilt to his smile, so like Matt’s. “But I was counting on Kayla being alone. You weren’t supposed to be here.”
So, he could tie up a loose end? Her pulse scrambled. “Sorry to ruin your plans.”
“You’ve been making a habit of it.” The accusation strained against the tight control in his voice.
Her heart thudded against her ribs. “Not intentionally.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of that.” Jeffrey made a dismissive gesture and Kayla drew in a sharp breath at the movement. “Doesn’t change the facts though. Things would have turned out fine, if it hadn’t been for you.”
“You mean, you would have gotten away with murder.”
Thunder rolled in the distance, booming across the water.
“Thanks to you, the cause of death was questioned,” he said it simply. “When you opened that gallery, Matt started digging into the past.”
Where the pain festered. “You broke into the gallery.”
“To give you a warning. And yet, here we are.”
A necessary evil? Maybe, to him, it had been.
He said, “I knew you wouldn’t leave well enough alone.”
“The message” — those red letters — “what did you use to write it?”
“Car varnish. One of those pens from a repair kit, in Poppy Red.” A little bit of that familiar humour slipped through. “The same colour as your Jeep, in fact.”
Scrawled over her painting, like gore in a slasher film. “The postcard wasn’t enough?”
Jeffrey frowned. “What postcard?”
Kayla steadied herself with a hand on the desk. “You used to be friends with Andrew.”
“A lifetime ago.” He suddenly looked haggard. “Literally. Don’t tell me there weren’t days you wished him dead.” Her face went a shade paler. “Hit the truth, didn’t I? Which is why, when they find you, no one will question whether or not you did it.”
Kayla pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.
Find you. Charley fought a clammy wave of terror.
Cocoa snarled and jerked forward, jolting her arm.
He angled his body toward the dog. Feet planted, he trained the shotgun on Cocoa. Finger on the trigger. Canine teeth flashed in the light as Cocoa bared them.
“No.” Charley struggled to keep the fear out of her voice. She had to get him away from her. “Let’s take this into the other room. I’ll close her in the office. She won’t hurt anyone.” And maybe they could talk him down.
“Fine.” He lowered the gun. Stepping aside, he swept his arm toward the door. “You first, Kayla.”
With jerky movements, she crossed the carpet.
“Sit.” Charley told Cocoa. It took a second before she listened. Then she looked up at her with trusting eyes, and her heart broke. She ran a hand over the dog’s head, felt the warmth of fur beneath her palm. “Stay here. Be a good girl.” She’d figure out what to do. But they had to buy time, and Cocoa had to stay safe.
They’d overpower Jeffrey somehow, get the gun away from him.
She kept her eye on Cocoa as she moved to the door, making sure she didn’t budge.
She had to walk past him to leave the room. And, for a second, she debated. It was possible. He was taller, heavier, but she had the element of surprise on her side.
He was so close, she felt the heat radiating off him. She just needed an opportunity to wrest the gun from his hand. But Cocoa would come to her defense. And there was no guarantee she’d get the gun in time. She couldn’t risk it.
She watched him pull the door closed on Cocoa’s keening whine.
“If only you’d left well enough alone.” There was no heat to the words. Instead, they were filled with regret. He’d do what he had to do. “We’re going to stop by the kitchen first.”
Charley felt the presence of the gun at her back. Heard Kayla’s breath turn quick and ragged as they walked down the hall.
The magnetic knife holder over the kitchen counter. If she could just get her hand on one of those knives, maybe they’d have a chance. Some leverage, at least.
He pointed at the floor by the kitchen table. Well away from everything else. “Sit there. On the floor. And don’t even think about moving.”
They knelt. What else could they do? Beneath her knees, the tiles were hard and cold.
He opened the glass-fronted cupboard, surveyed the bottles of alcohol. Gun pointed their way, but his attention on the labels.
Eyes off them for now.
Her muscles tensed, ready to spring. She kept her gaze on the handles of the knives.
But the second wasn’t long enough.
“Andrew always said nothing took care of his back pain like Oxycodone,” Jeffrey said conversationally. “Swore by it. Did you know that an overdose can be fatal? Especially when taken with alcohol. I’ve heard it’s just like falling asleep. Ah.” He took a bottle off the shelf. “Eighteen-year-old Scotch whiskey. Aged in bourbon casks. We’ll take this with us. All right.” He closed the glass door. “Just one more thing.” He squatted to rummage in the cupboard under the sink. “Ha! Thought so. Trust Andrew to keep some in the kitchen.” A roll of duct tape. “Charley, if you’ll stand.”
He gestured with the gun. “I can’t leave marks on Kayla’s wrists, but I’m more concerned about you playing the hero anyway. After all, your paintings are all about heroics, aren’t they?”
And courage. She got to her feet, slowly. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Believe me, I wish that were true. Turn around.” He tossed the tape to Kayla. “I’ll have to ask you to do this. Tight as you can, please.”
With a wrenching tear, the tape peeled off the roll.
“There’s always a choice,” Charley tried again.
“Not this time.” Certain, as though he’d gone over every option in his mind, and this was the only way out. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go. You’re a problem I have to decide how to solve. Some minor adjustments to the Jeep and a long drive might do the trick. We’ll deal with that later.”
The tape bit into her skin as Kayla wound it around her wrists, twice. Not too tight, but tight enough. It held fast.
“Why did you do it?” Kayla asked, her voice shaky.
Jeffrey took the tape from her, put it back where he’d found it. “Well, that’s something to discuss over the Scotch, isn’t it?” He tucked the bottle under his arm. “Let’s head outside. It’ll be better if they find you where he died.”
Charley had to buy them time. “This isn’t the solution. It’ll only make things worse. Alex will figure out what you did.” They walked ahead of Jeffrey into the living room.
“I don’t think he will,” he said. “Not after Kayla slashed your painting at the gallery.”
At the sliding door, Kayla stopped short. “I had nothing to do with that.”
“But that’s not what he’ll think.” He gestured for her to move forward. “You’re the obvious suspect. Emotionally unstable. Wracked with guilt.”
Charley said evenly, “You’re not thinking straight.” Alex was wrong. Reckless behavior didn’t make the murderer easier to catch. It only made him more dangerous.
“Oh, but trust me, I am.” The muzzle of the gun pointed down, but his fingers trembled against the stock. “Someone has to take the blame. And it won’t be me.”
That desperation, his fear, had panic clawing at her own throat. She wouldn’t — couldn’t give in to it.
Outside, darkness had fallen, black as night. Thick rain clouds hid the stars from view. The air was moist, cloying with humidity. Electric. Shadows loomed everywhere.
She blinked, willing her eyes to adjust. She couldn’t see. The old terror caught at her, had her breath rasping. A trickle of sweat slid down her back. But she wouldn’t let it consume her. Not now.
In the distance, Cocoa began to bark, a frantic sound.
Jeffrey walked behind them, urging them forward, toward the solitary chair, down by the water. Alcohol sloshed in the bottle, like waves against the shore. “You’ve always been quick to ask for help, Kayla. But slow to return it. Unless it brought you something. Same as Andrew.”
The whites of Kayla’s eyes flashed as they widened in fear. Thunder cracked overhead.
“It took me a while to notice,” he said, “how selfish you are. I’m sure you have though, Charley. After all, she used you to investigate her husband’s death. Did she thank you?”
Not once. But did that make her selfish or just distracted?
“I didn’t think so.” Certainty warmed his tone. “Your friend does things to serve herself. No more, no less. It’s why she married Andrew. For security and a life of leisure. Everything money can buy. Only that backfired, didn’t it? Because Andrew was selfish too. Ego-driven. Nothing but the best for him and to hell with anyone who stood in his way.” Betrayal, fed for years, had grown, become all-consuming.
Maybe that resentment could help her get through to him. “Andrew made a lot of enemies.”
“Pissed people off all the time. He had a talent for it. If he saw an opportunity to stab someone in the back, he’d do it, then walk right over their cold, dead body.”
Like Lizzie. Could she use that somehow? But push too hard and she might tip him over the edge.
There were no boats on the water now. No sound of an approaching motor. Nothing but the shaking branches, the crash of waves breaking against the dock. Across the lake, lightning sliced through the dark sky, silver as an old scar.
Jeffrey stopped at the red Adirondack chair, where Andrew sat as he ate the chocolates that killed him. “Take a seat, Kayla. We’ll stand.”
Charley stayed where she was. With a slight shift of her foot, she moved back, closer to the rocks leading to the shoreline.
He swung the gun toward her, sending a skitter of fear down her spine, but she held her ground. “Stay right there.”
“Do you mind if I sit?” Tremble in her voice, just a little. Let him think she was weak. “I can’t — I feel faint.”
He weighed it. Dismissed it. “Fine.”
She lowered herself to the ground until she sat cross-legged. Her hands touched the sharp edges of the rock behind her. She held still and waited.
“Go ahead.” He set the whiskey on the armrest beside Kayla. “Have a drink.” From his back pocket, he took out a bottle of pills. The contents rattled as he set it down beside the alcohol.
Kayla angled her chin up. “And what if I don’t?”
“There’s a flaw in your plan,” Charley said. The jagged rock scratched her wrist, wearing at the tape. “You can’t make her take those pills.”
“True. But I can give her a choice. The pills or a slug.” He stood on the grass, the lake at his back. The wind tore at his hair. It would only take one move for him to shoulder the gun.
“If you shoot either of us, you’ll be left with another body to get rid of. One that can’t be passed off as an accident.”
Shadows scraped his face, hiding his expression. “Did you know that Andrew used to hunt? Years and years ago now. Open season and he’d be out with the rest of them. Deer mostly. Wolves and coyotes too. Only a semi-automatic rifle is a lot better for that than a shotgun. So, he gave me his. It’s still registered under his name.” And he had yet to aim it at one of them. Though it would be foolish to think he wouldn’t. “It’s barely half an hour past sunset. It’s not hunting season yet, but people won’t question a single shot. It’ll take a while before anyone comes to investigate. If they even hear it over the thunder. And when they do, it’ll look like suicide.”
Kayla made a strangled sound in her throat.
“A shotgun,” he said, “isn’t a pleasant way to go. I’d take the pills. But, in the end, it’s your choice.”
Slowly, Kayla reached for the bottle of Scotch, unscrewed the cap. And stared at him with hatred in her eyes.
She had to stall him. The casual tone had Charley thinking of the first day she met him, in the workshop. “Sometimes,” she said, “kindness is a weakness.”
He smiled, and there was nothing kind about it. “Wiser words were never spoken.”
“Like hell,” Matt said to Alex. “You’re way off the mark.”
The cellphone vibrated on the table, ignored. “Maybe. Once I’ve checked the facts, we’ll know for sure.”
“Do it now,” he suggested. “We’ll go talk to him together.” And stop this before it went any further.
Alex looked at him. “Are you serious?”
“He’ll either be at the workshop or at home.” He dropped some bills on the table, enough to cover both their orders. “Let’s go.” He wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Investigate a case on my time off?” Alex raised a brow. “What else is new? Okay.” He looked down at the half-eaten sandwich in front of him. “But I’m finishing my food first.”
“I’ll wait.” As long as it takes. And he’d ignore the panic, the doubt, rising inside him.