Divas and Dead Rebels (40 page)

“Just answer one question, please,” I said, “and we’ll leave.”

She didn’t say anything, but stuck her chin in the air and crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive position. I sucked in a deep breath before I asked, “How well did your husband know Trisha Atwood?”

It was immediately obvious that she hadn’t expected that question. Her face went pale, her arms went out to her sides, and her hands and voice shook. “Get out! Get OUT!”

The last word was a shriek, and she flung herself toward us, waving her arms and curling her fingers into claws as she flailed at me. She was surprisingly strong as I put up a hand to defend my face. Since we were approximately the same height, I shoved her away rather forcibly. She staggered backward, then started to come toward me again, her face contorted with rage.

It was Gaynelle who stepped in to snag Victoria by one arm as she lunged forward. “Stop that this instant!” she said in her sternest school teacher voice. “Control yourself, please.”

Victoria jerked her arm free of Gaynelle’s grasp and pointed to the door. “Out. If I have to call the police, I’m pressing charges.”

I was so mad I was about to spit fire, but I managed to say without snarling, “That would be a very interesting situation, indeed. I’m tempted to stay just to tell them what I know. But I’ll wait until after I talk to your husband. Tell him we’ll be at Catherine’s cabin.”

Gaynelle and Rayna had the front door open, and before I knew what she intended to do, Bitty stepped between me and the furious woman. Short as she is, she got right up in Victoria Hartford’s face and shook a finger under her nose.

“You listen to me, you mule-faced bitch—if you lay one more hand on Trinket, I’ll bounce you off that floor so quick you won’t know if you’re coming or going. And don’t think I can’t do it!”

Fortunately, Bitty’s bouncing skills weren’t put to the test. Gaynelle and Rayna intervened and got us both out the door without more unnecessary violence. When I glanced over my shoulder at Victoria Hartford, I have to say I’d never seen a more murderous expression than the one on her face at that moment.

“Gotcha!”
I thought. There was no doubt in my mind that she’d tell her husband exactly what was said. We had successfully laid the trap. Breck Hartford would certainly rise to the challenge, and his reaction would no doubt be swift. We had to be ready.

Once in the car, Rayna organized the recording equipment. A tiny camera small enough to fit in a buttonhole, complete with audio, and a camera fitted to the earpieces of a pair of sunglasses were included in her kit. Bitty was immediately intrigued.

“Oooh, what do I get to wear?”

“A smile,” I answered her. “We’re taking you home first. I’m not about to risk a hair on your head.”

Bitty turned in the seat to look at me. “You’ve been talking to Jackson Lee,” she accused.

“No, I’ve been
listening
to Jackson Lee. He told me he doesn’t want you to ever be in another risky situation. I promised him I’d do my best to keep you safe.”

“And you meant it?”

I stared at her. “Of course I meant it, Bitty. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m not going anywhere except with y’all, that’s why.”

“Look, Rayna and I talked it over before we ever planned this. None of us are that crazy about getting bashed in the head or held at gunpoint. So we’re taking precautions. However, as has been proven in the past, the best made plans of mice and men often go awry. We may end up in jeopardy despite our caution. Therefore, we think it best to—”

“If you’re going to say, ‘Leave Bitty behind,’ you better rethink it,” Bitty cut me off to say. The look she gave me was narrow-eyed, and her teeth were slightly bared.

“You look like a piranha,” I said. “Stop glaring at me.”

“Stop trying to leave me out of things.”

“But I promised Jackson Lee.”

“Just tell him I refused to cooperate. He’s familiar with that.”

“I bet he is.” I sighed. “Okay. I tried. That’s all I can do.”

Bitty smiled. “Now, what’s my part in this going to be?”

“Silent bystander?” I guessed, and she shook her head.

“Not a chance.”

“Okay. So, then I’ll just outline our plan for you. Rayna had a camera attached to her sunglasses, and we have recorded everything said so far. If we can get Breck Hartford to incriminate himself, we’ll have that recorded as well. Then we’ll give it to the police and let them decide what to do with it.”

“And how do you propose to get him to incriminate himself?” Bitty asked.

“Well, I had hoped to find him home and surprise him, but I’m sure Victoria will tell him everything that was said. So now I expect him to track us down to learn just what we know and if we have any proof.”

Bitty looked at me like I was crazy. “So you’re luring a homicidal maniac to hunt us down?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, I hope you have a plan to keep us from being his next victims, Mad Max.”

“Yes, there’s safety in numbers.”

“You’re saying he can’t kill all of us?”

“Something like that.”

Bitty looked at Rayna and Gaynelle. “And you two are going along with this?”

“I hardly think he’ll gun us all down with an Uzi,” said Rayna. “And we don’t intend to split up until this is over.”

Bitty shook her head. “And if he doesn’t decide to look for us today? What then? Do we go home and wait for him to show up in the middle of the night again?”

“I hate it when Bitty is the voice of reason,” I said to Rayna, and she nodded her agreement.

“It’s rather like finding a talking frog, isn’t it,” she said.

Gaynelle laughed. “Amazing, but you just know there’s a trick to it?”

“I’m sitting right here, you know,” said Bitty.

I reached over to pat her on the arm. “I know, honey. And you’ll be glad to hear that you have an excellent point. While I think Breck Hartford will tear after us like a bear with his tail afire, he may prefer to wait and catch us alone. It seems to have been his style. Yet I’m thinking he might want to confront us as soon as possible to forestall our going to the police.”

“If he’s innocent, he may be angry, but he’s not going to hunt us down like a rabid dog,” said Rayna. “But if he’s guilty, as we all think he is, Breck will come after us today instead of waiting.”

“Let’s hope our armchair psychology is on the right track,” said Gaynelle. “If we are wrong, we may be in a lot of trouble setting a trap like this.”

“Are you kidding?” I said. “If we’re
right
, we’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”

“Well, we’ve taken proper precautions,” Rayna said after a moment. “We have recording equipment ready, some safeguards in place, and my cell phone is programmed to speed dial the Marshall County police if need be.”

“And if they don’t arrive in time?” asked Bitty. “What precautions are in place for that?”

“Burial policies,” I quipped, but none of us laughed with any real humor.

Bitty rolled her eyes. “Good thing I brought along my gun, then. At least I’m prepared.”

“Oh no,” I said immediately. “You’re leaving your gun in your purse and your purse in the car. I’m not taking a chance on anyone being accidentally shot.”

“How do you feel about intentionally?”

“I’d rather take my chances with Hartford.”

Bitty looked at Gaynelle and Rayna. They looked out the car windows. She blew out a sigh. “Okay. You win.”

I was relieved. “It’s about time.”

We had set a trap for Breck Hartford, and I hoped he showed up to be caught. It was the only thing I’d been able to come up with to get proof of his crimes. It should work. He’d consider Catherine’s cabin to be private enough for a confrontation and would have no idea that we’d already set the stage to catch him.

Just like fishing; bait the hook and reel ’em in. Unfortunately, we were the bait.

Chapter 20

Catherine’s cabin sat on a hill above the Tippah River. It wasn’t a big house, but very comfortable. Rayna had managed to get the keys to it from a realtor who had been trying to sell it for Catherine. I hadn’t even known the house was for sale, but now I wondered who would want to buy a house where there had been a murder.

Of course, Bitty’s cabin had been a murder scene as well, and she’d managed to sell it fairly quickly, but that was before the real estate market bottomed out in the area.

“Is everything still working correctly?” Rayna asked for at least the fifth time. She had checked and rechecked all the electronic equipment she’d brought with us. Since her husband Rob is a bail bondsman and an insurance investigator, he has a lot of cool stuff suitable to use for snooping. And, hopefully, also good for catching a killer.

“How would I know if it was working right or not?” asked Bitty as she peered up at Rayna where she stood on a utility ladder fiddling with a camera. “Is there supposed to be a red light or something?”

“Yes. Do you see one?”

“Yes,” said Bitty, patting her blonde helmet of hair as she added, “be sure you get my best side, okay? I don’t want to look terrible if this is going to be used as evidence in court one day.”

“Don’t worry about it, Norma Desmond,” I said, rolling my eyes. “When you’re ready for your close-up, she’ll let you know.”

Bitty narrowed her eyes at me, then apparently remembered that would produce wrinkles, and her face cleared as she said, “
Sunset Boulevard
was a great movie.”

Looking frazzled, Rayna said, “I wish you two would hush. Just tell me if these cameras are too noticeable.”

I eyed them critically. “Move that one pointed toward the fireplace a little to the left so it looks part of the corner molding. That’s right. Now it’s hardly noticeable at all.”

“Good. Rob usually does this stuff, so I should have paid better attention. I wish I knew if this is all hooked up right. I’d hate for us to go to all this trouble, not to mention putting ourselves in danger, and then have nothing on tape to give the police.”

“You’ve tested it three times already, and it’s working,” said Gaynelle. “I think it will be fine, Rayna.”

She sighed and stepped down off the utility stool. “Well, we’re ready then. This is going to be so disappointing if he doesn’t show up.”

“If you ask me,” said Bitty, “we’re better off if he doesn’t show up. It’s not as if we have unassailable proof, even if he confesses on tape. Is it?”

“It won’t be the same as if he confessed to the police, no,” replied Rayna. “That doesn’t mean it won’t be useful. They can play all this back to get a confession from him.”

“What do you think, Trinket?” Gaynelle asked.

“I think Bitty’s been hiding her vocabulary skills.
Unassailable?
Very good, Professor Bitty.”

My dear cousin said something quite sharp and to the point, and I smiled. We needed relief from the tension. My nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and I’m sure the others’ were too.

Gaynelle, who had been standing by the dining room window looking out on the parking area, said, “Someone’s turning into the driveway.”

I think we all gasped at the same time, and Rayna scurried to put away the folding utility ladder and hide any evidence of our spy equipment. I felt rather like James Bond. Or Mata Hari. Her exploits as a spy were legendary. And she was rumored to be a
femme fatale,
so that appealed to me.

But I digress.

So there we were, surrounded by enough technical equipment to apprehend a drug lord, anxiously waiting for the killer to appear. It sounds crazy in retrospect, and even felt crazy then for us to attempt such a thing. Not that our insanity deterred us in the least.

Rocks crunched under tires as the car rolled to a stop next to Rayna’s SUV. My heart hammered so hard in my chest I thought it might break a rib. I looked at the others. They looked as tense as I felt. We waited for Breck Hartford to get out of the car and come to the door, and he didn’t disappoint us.

The door swung open on his late-model BMW, and he flung himself out of it like a man possessed. We all did a collective
gulp!
as he slammed the door shut and stomped up to the back deck. I’d forgotten how big he was—tall and with the broad shoulders of a linebacker. I could well imagine him playing football and running over the other players with no mercy. I had a brief moment of panic as he reached the back door and pounded on it.

We had pre-arranged our roles in the play we were about to perform, so Gaynelle went to open the door while we scattered to our respective places. “Yes?” she inquired as if greeting an unexpected visitor.

Breck Hartford hesitated as we had hoped. Some of his rage abated, and he looked uncertain. He didn’t know Gaynelle well or at all, and so made a visible effort to control his anger as he said, “Tell Bitty I want to talk to her.”

Gaynelle’s years as a public school teacher often came in handy. She lifted a brow and tilted her head to one side as if chastising him for his rudeness. From my position in the kitchen, I had a nice view of Breck’s face as his tan complexion took on a ruddy hue. It wasn’t a good look for him.