CHAPTER 24

A shower never felt so good. I shampooed my hair twice for good measure as my mind spun with a plethora of worries. Where was Paul? Was he okay? Were they hurting him? Who would hate me enough to want to frame me for theft and murder? Please don’t let it be Alex. I tried to be a good person, love my fellow man, and give back where I could. I jumped, poking myself in the eyes, as my phone blared from the other room, where it charged. Rubbing my left eye, I turned off the water, wrapped up in my terry cloth robe just as it went to voice mail. I held my hand on the tie and considered hopping back in the shower. Mr. Wrigley rubbed against my bare legs and meowed loudly.

“Is your feeder empty?”

As if he could understand me, he lifted his tail and marched toward the kitchen.

“It has to have just run out. I checked it earlier this week.” He was right, only a few small pieces remained. Like I thought, just ran out. “I’m sorry, little fella. It’s been a chaotic couple of days.”

He gave me a look that said he didn’t care one bit.

“Gee, thanks for the support.”

He meowed as if to say, “Who me?”

I hefted the bag of cat food and went about the task of refilling His Majesty’s meal dispenser. I leaned down and we engaged in one of our staring contests. Mr. Wrigley gave me a bemused expression as he glanced in my direction with his head cocked to one side, looking positively adorable.

“Yeah, yeah, you always pull that you’re-so-innocent routine, and I’m the one with a couple of screws loose. I’ve got your number, fella. You and I are way too much alike.”

My cell rang again and, with a good scratch behind the ears, I left Mr. Wrigley to enjoy his meal. My mood had lifted marginally; Mr. Wrigley had that effect on me. I missed the call again and I checked the number. Unknown number. Huh, probably a telemarketer. I placed the phone back onto the bedside table as I stretched out on top of the cool comforter. My last thought was I should probably dry my hair and I hoped I wasn’t getting sick.

* * *

Betsy, Aunt Vi, and I sat out on the back deck drinking coffee and gazing at the sunset. They made me promise to allow myself a few minutes to breathe and not be consumed with guilt about Paul. I was trying, but how could I enjoy a lovely evening while he remained captive? I needed to rest or I’d be no use to him or anyone. I had real limitations and needed to address them when they reared their ugly heads. It was okay to take time for self-care.

“Eddie’s doing well then? He’d have to be for them to have him up and walking to the bathroom.” Aunt Vi took a cookie from the platter I’d placed on the table.

“He is. I spoke to Sam after my nap.” I sneezed into my elbow and took a tissue from the box.

Betsy held out her hand for the box of Puffs I had next to me, snatched it from my outstretched hand, and loudly blew her nose. She and I both seemed to have come down with some sort of cold or bug at the same time. Which was the reason I was sitting here instead of at the hospital with my family. Eddie’s immune system couldn’t be compromised.

“I bet you girls caught something from that nasty cell they had y’all in. Someone should do something about the uninhabitable conditions of the correctional institution on this island.” Aunt Vi shook her head.

“They really should!” Betsy took a sip from her mug. “I think I saw black mold growing in the corner. We probably got a disease or somethin’.”

“Relax. We didn’t get a disease in a couple of hours in a holding cell. And it’s not technically a correctional institution, Aunt Vi.” I succumbed to yet another sneezing fit.

Betsy handed over a box of cold medication.

“Ugh.” I popped two pills and knocked them back with the last of my coffee.

Aunt Vi had steadily headed for the steps. “Listen, y’all know Aunt Vi is all about her girls. And if I thought my presence here would be of aid, I’d stay. However, now that we know where the detective’s head is on this case, there’s no need for me to put this ole bod through a bout of whatever y’all have.”

“You’re right. Save yourself while you still can.” Betsy moaned melodramatically.

I waved to a descending Aunt Vi, not blaming her one bit as she waddled down the beach toward her cottage.

“You know what I think?” Betsy said as the breeze blew and we both shivered. Not a good sign. “I think we should head over and have a conversation with my cousin. If the detective thinks he’s behind this, we should show our cards. I mean, I don’t believe in a million years that Alex, even as stupid as he’s being, would ever set us up for murder. If we call him out, we might actually get somewhere.”

“On one hand, I don’t think that’s such a bad idea. Why wouldn’t he see reason and look at the situation objectively? If he did, he would see how absurd his notion that we’re involved is. But now that I’ve had a moment to consider things, something else is at play here.”

“I’m listening.” Betsy ate a lemon shortbread cookie.

“The detective is a smart guy. He’d have to be. He’s a decorated lawman. He had a vendetta against towns that hide crime, which is good, though he also has been accused of being dirty when it suits him. I know he signed the agreements ensuring they can’t come after me again. I’m still having a difficult time trusting him. I mean, what if he wants to sink our little island.” I raised my hands. “Metaphorically speaking. I’m going way out in left field here, using the whole what-ifs to suit us. All our other theories proved fruitless.”

“Sure, we never get anywhere without the what-ifs.” Betsy ate another cookie.

“I made a call to our friend Calhoun earlier, and he agreed it could be plausible. You know, he’s always had a special interest in our infamous detective.” Roy Calhoun was a reporter who I’d become close friends with a few years back. He and I shared a moment in time that bonded folks together like no other: death. Calhoun was now a family man with a couple of stepkids and a pretty wife. He was still in the field and still pursuing the theory that Thornton framed his brother for murder. He’d gladly share intel.

Betsy’s eyes went wide as she nodded. “I like it. Thornton is digging up our past, why shouldn’t we dig up his?”

“What if the detective had a personal interest in the fraudulent wire transfer? From what Calhoun’s gathered, our eager lawman has a mountain of debt and will be facing retirement soon.”

“You think he might be behind all of this?”

I shook my head. “Not all of it, but perhaps the bank heist. It’s way out there, I know. Just a what-if.”

“Hmm. That’s a lot of what-ifs.” Betsy wiped her running nose.

“Yeah, I know. I just keep worrying about Paul. I got the impression the detective didn’t believe the abductors would kill him and lose their leverage. I’m just not sure if me helping will do all that much good. Especially if they’re using me to trap Alex.” I drummed my nails on the table. “Come on.” I hopped up and decided to put all these what-ifs on the whiteboard.

Five minutes later I had it all written out. Betsy sat on the chair sipping from her mug. In the middle of the board I drew a large circle. Inside the circle I wrote a few dollar signs. I placed all of those affected around the circle: Lucy, Alex, Paul, Betsy, and Me. “Okay. Maybe we’ve been going about this the wrong way. What if the robbery was the main focus the entire time. Lucy worked at the bank and had access to all the pertinent information regarding bank transfers, routing numbers, and bank procedures.” I drew a line from the circle to Lucy. “Lucy’s murder, followed by the attempt on our lives, showed skill in diversion tactics.” I used a red dry-erase marker to write murder beside Lucy and car bombs next to Betsy and me. I added a question mark between Lucy and Paul. Now that he had become the killer’s latest target, the alleged relationship between them was plausible and relevant to this case.

“Don’t forget that someone placed a bomb under Paul’s company vehicle as well.”

I added it, as well as the abduction, next to Paul’s name, along with the unidentified dark-headed person from the video, and then wrote the detective’s name at the top of the board before stepping back and examining my work. I’d spent a minimal amount of time in Paul’s apartment. It’d been basic, with masculine furniture and nothing hanging on the walls. He had a mother somewhere who suffered from dementia. Other than her, he had no other family to speak of. He sent money to the care home monthly. I recalled him discussing with the proprietor regarding her health and care. Now I wished I had paid more attention to his life. Unfortunately, I couldn’t go back to his home. All evidence of his existence there had been erased. Who would be able to accomplish such a task? Alex? Hard to believe. The detective certainly would. Another stretch. What about the biker? How had he vanished like he had without another soul seeing? Had they checked the ferry registry?

“What’s that buzzing sound?”

I glanced around, listening for the buzzing Betsy referenced. “I don’t hear anything. Your ears must be clogged.” I sneezed a few times and sat next to Betsy. “We need to go over to Alex’s. Preferably when he isn’t there.” I wanted to go through Lucy’s things without upsetting him. And I knew from Aunt Vi that Lucy had practically moved in with him before the wedding.

Betsy sat up straighter. “I can have Aunt Vi case the joint before we go over. I’m sure she could get Meemaw to create a diversion.” She tapped her chin and jumped. “Oh, I’ve got it! Meemaw has this pinhole leak under the sink in her kitchen. She’s been after him to come over and repair it for over a month now. You know how she is about paying for repairs she believes are an easy fix.”

“It’s been leaking for months?” I picked up my mug of now lukewarm coffee.

Betsy nodded. “She put a bucket underneath it.” She whipped out her cell phone and called Aunt Vi. While those two chatted, or more accurately schemed, I thought about Lucy and the Carmichaels. I couldn’t get their distraught faces out of my mind, and I wondered how they were coping. There were so many victims. So many hurt people, I wished I could help. I had to be careful too. The person behind all of this could be out to use me to hurt others. And I was beginning to feel royally pissed by the audacity of the selfish evil person who wreaked havoc on all involved.

“Okay, it’s all set. Aunt Vi is on it!” Betsy stood. “There it is again. The buzzing.”

Betsy and I went to investigate.

We followed the sound into my bedroom and to the source, my cell.

“I must have accidentally switched it to vibrate.”

“See! I knew I wasn’t hearing things. I’ve got amazin’ hearing. Superpower hearing.” She flopped down face-first on my bed. “Your mattress is so comfy, and this comforter is so soft. Maybe we should take a nap.” Betsy sniffed loudly.

I quickly handed her another tissue in attempts to avoid having to have my comforter dry-cleaned, and then checked my phone.

Whoever they were left a voice mail. Oddly though, the unknown voice mail had been recorded while I’d been in custody, according to the time stamp. I’d not noticed it. I hit the voice mail icon.

“Marygene, babe, I need your help,” Paul rasped.

A vise gripped my heart. Betsy flopped around and sat up straight on the bed, her eyes wide.

“You’re going to receive some instructions soon. Please do everything you’re asked to or they’ll kill me. Please. I love you.”

Some scuffles were audible. A combination of guilt, fear, and anger consumed me.

A robotic voice said, “He’ll die, slowly and painfully if you notify your lover-boy deputy or the authorities that we contacted you or share our instructions. Get it? No police! Go about your life as normal and don’t alert anyone or you’ll start receiving pieces of your boyfriend.”

Horrific, agonizing screams came next.

Chills ran through my body and the phone slipped from my fingers to clatter to the floor.

“Sweet Lord,” Betsy gasped and leapt to her feet.

We stared at the pink case that encompassed my iPhone, and we clutched on to each other. The little device gave me such terror, as if at any second it could reach out and strangle the life from me. Blood thrummed in my ears. My knees gave out, and I slumped down on the bed, taking Betsy with me. She pulled me closer. We just sat there. Staring.

“What should we do? We must do something. I have to call the sheriff’s department or at least Javy.”

Betsy shook her head. “They said not to contact your lover boy.”

“You think they were referring to Javier?” I gaped.

“They certainly don’t mean Alex. You know any other deputies with the Peach Cove Sheriff’s Department?”

The phone vibrated against the floor. I squeaked.

“Answer it!” Betsy shouted, and released her hold on my arm. “No, don’t!” She grabbed my arm again and jerked.

“Stop it. I have to answer it.” I went to my knees. My trembling fingers groped to gain purchase on the rubber case. The unknown number caused tendrils of panic to swirl within my midsection as I hit the speaker icon. “He . . . hello. Paul!”

“Marygene!” Paul’s shaky voice rasped.

“Paul! My God. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Follow the instructions . . . Please . . . A-and don’t tell a soul. I can’t t-take much more of this . . .” The line went silent.

“Wait! What instructions? Paul!”

He was gone.

I paced the floor in front of the whiteboard after I’d added the incident to the board. Bets and I had gone back and forth on the right thing to do.

“I really think I should call Javier. What if they kill Paul?”

“They’re probably planning to kill him anyway.” Betsy chewed on the nail on her index finger. “I mean, they have no reason to keep him alive. They’re already in this for murder and attempted robbery, what’s another count?”

I hated to agree with her as I rubbed my aching head. “Why would they contact me instead of the sheriff’s department? They have the authority to back everyone off. I sure don’t.”

Betsy shrugged. “Poor Paul. He’s boring as dry toast, but he did save our lives. No one deserves to die for being born a bore. Besides, you’re the closest person to him on the island and he said he loves you.”

“Yeah, I heard that.” My shoulders slumped forward. “What if they took him because of me, Bets?”

Betsy waved her hand in the air, “Maybe he was just an easy target. You think they said no cops because the detective has him?”

“I don’t know. Calhoun swears the detective’s dirty.” I began pacing again. A light bulb in my brain fired to life. “We have to think of this logically. What could they possibly be after? Easy. Money. I don’t work for the bank. I haven’t any way of releasing funds.” To borrow an expression from Sam, my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. I whipped around toward Betsy. “Okay, at the risk of sounding redundant, let’s go through it again.”

Betsy nodded.

“The killers wanted to frame us in the first place. Every decision they made was perfectly calculated to enact a crime that pointed to us. Lucy died in the reception tent. The poison was placed under my sink. They dumped her body on my back deck and your words were used on the abduction video. That, along with your aunt pointing the finger at you, makes you a perfect accomplice.”

“Oh, right!” Betsy clapped her hands loudly. “If they have us following some lame-ass instructions, it’ll probably be a trap. Another piece of the puzzle to frame us.”

I paused to blow my nose. “On the other hand, they must have someone watching us. Whoever they are must’ve known we were in custody and later released. And they certainly wouldn’t want me to involve the authorities.”

“Who would have that knowledge? And know about the sexual tension between you and that hunk of burnin’ Latin love. The detective, of course and . . .” Betsy pulled a tissue from the box and froze.

“Alex,” we both said in unison.