* * * * *
It was quiet when I opened my eyes. The sun streamed through the window, coming to rest on Brooks sitting in a chair against the wall. He had his eyes closed. The shadow of a black beard graced his face, making him look slightly disreputable. Mostly, he looked tired.
“Have you been there all night?” My voice was hoarse.
Brooks opened his eyes. A smile played on his lips. “No, I haven’t been here all night. I had to finish my shift first.”
“You should go home and get some rest.” I couldn’t believe I was actually feeling sorry for him.
“I wanted to be sure you were recovering. I shouldn’t have let the situation progress. You had no business chasing after a murderer.” He stood up and dragged the chair over to my bed.
“You couldn’t have stopped me. I was so mad at Dotty. You would have had to cuff me to the car to keep me from going after her.”
“That’s what I should have done. You wouldn’t have been so involved if I hadn’t led you to believe you were the prime suspect.”
“I wasn’t?”
“In the beginning, maybe. You’d be surprised how many murderers get tired of waiting for their victim to be discovered and go and discover the body themselves. It’s some kind of neurosis. I told that reporter you weren’t our main suspect before that article ran. She twisted my words. I told your boss that on the phone the other day.”
“Lucy knew I didn’t murder Vera?” I raised my eyebrows at him. “When did you decide I hadn’t done it?”
“After I arrested you. I wasn’t sure before that. After that, I knew. And then you brought in Gunnar, and after that, you fought off Joseph. I was thinking you should have been a cop. Maverick tells me that MacGowans are pretty resilient. If you’re typical, I’d have to agree with him.”
“Oh, sure, now you flatter me.”
“I’d like to flatter you a lot more, but I understand you’re seeing someone.”
“Hmm. I have been seeing someone. I’m not sure we’re exclusive, though. I need to work that out.”
“It’s not Jim Fisk, is it?”
“Jim Fisk was before. He dumped me at the first sign of trouble.”
“He’s not right for you anyway.” He picked up my hand.
“You’re the second man to say that.”
“Must be right then. Can I ask you for coffee sometime?”
“Sure, I’m always up for coffee. But I have to warn you, I have a habit of spilling drinks on guys.”
“You spill drinks on guys?”
“I talk with my hands, and next thing you know, someone’s drink is all over the table.”
I’ll keep that in mind.” He had his hands clasped over mine. “I’m glad you’re going to be okay. I can’t tell you how bad I felt when you came across the field with blood running down your sleeve.”
“I wasn’t too happy about that myself. But no worries. I’m fine. I don’t seem to have it in me to hold a grudge against you, so maybe coffee will work out okay. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to keep my hands in check, and you won’t end up covered in it.”
He left to get cleaned up and go back to work. The doctor came in on rounds and told me I’d probably get to go home today. J.W., Tom and Meg wandered in shortly after my breakfast. I was lamenting the lack of bacon when Jim waltzed in. He shook hands with J.W. and Tom.
“What in the world possessed you that you would go tearing after that madwoman? There isn’t one sane person in that family. But you didn’t hear that from me. Her nephew just admitted that he was planning to burn down your house because he thought you had killed his aunt.” “Her nephew? How old is he?”
“Fourteen. I don’t know what the cops are going to do with him. Probably put the fear of God into him and let him go. He’s usually a pretty good kid. They say he was distraught.”
“A distraught fourteen-year-old was going to burn down my house.” I shook my head. I didn’t even know what to make of that.
I closed my eyes. Jim took that as a sign I was tired and left to go to work. Meg sat in the chair next to my bed that Brooks had vacated earlier. “I really wish you’d stay home and live the quiet life. You are giving me grey hair. How is your arm?”
“It’s okay. They’ve got me on some pretty good painkillers. Did you know that Lieutenant Brooks told Lucy that I wasn’t the main suspect, and she went ahead and wrote that I was anyway?”
Meg nodded. “Miles called and told me that when the paper came out. I meant to tell you, but that’s the day we took that ride with Gunnar. I kind of forgot.”
“Lucy Howe better watch her back. What she did is lower than pond scum.”
“I’ll fire her. Then you can write the article telling about how you weren’t a suspect and all the other stuff that happened. You could mention she isn’t working for the paper anymore, because she’s lower than pond scum.”
“Nothing would make me happier.” I looked over at Tom. “So did you guys ever find the other glass ball that Dotty had? It disappeared out of her garden.”
“Miles found it in her car. She left it parked in the lot when she took off with the Jeep. The ball has Vera’s blood and Dotty’s prints on it. Pretty damning evidence. How’d you know?”
“I had a hunch, that’s all. I didn’t know it was Dotty, but I had the feeling she knew who did it, and I was right. She did know.”
Tom came over and stood next to Meg. “I need to tell Bella something, Hon. Do you mind if I commandeer your chair for a couple of minutes?”
“Go ahead. I’ll go down to the cafeteria and find some bacon for Bree to eat.”
Tom sat down next to me. “Now, Bree, I don’t want you to be upset, but they are letting Gunnar go.”
“What? How can that be? There are photos. He’s in some of those photos with young men. Very young men.”
“He had us check it out. Those guys all look young, but they’re not. The agency Gunnar used to shoot those specializes in men who look very young. They keep meticulous records, so their clients don’t end up in jail.”
“There’s an agency that caters to this kind of thing? That’s disgusting.”
“I agree, but as they are all adults, it’s legal.”
“But what about the kidnapping charge. How is he getting out of that?”
“Well, it’s your word and Megs against his. He’s charming, famous and attractive. The D.A. feels that no jury will convict. His lawyer will say that you stowed away in his trunk and decided to claim kidnapping to escape embarrassment.”
“Shit. What about Joseph?”
“Public nuisance charges might stick on him. But Gunnar will hire a big city lawyer for Joseph, so I doubt he’ll even get fined. They’ll both probably be back in California, free as birds, before the end of the week.”
J.W. looked up from his magazine. “Did you ever find out why he kidnapped you? Obviously, it didn’t have to do with Vera’s murder.”
“He thought I’d heard him on the phone booking a session with some boys, although apparently, they aren’t really boys at all. Anyway, he thought I knew, and he was afraid I’d leak it and destroy his fan base. What he was going to say if anyone found out he kidnapped and killed Meg and me, I don’t know.”
* * * * *
Meg was sitting with me, flicking through the channels on TV. I had been discharged, but we had to wait for the nurse to come with the papers. Meg had ransacked my house for clean clothes, and I was wearing mud- and blood-free jeans and an oversized tee-shirt. Meg figured that my usual stretchy tee-shirt would hurt to wear.
The door opened. I shifted my gaze away from an “Ellen” rerun in hopes that the nurse had arrived. Lucy Howe waltzed in, carrying an enormous fruit basket wrapped in green cellophane.
“I guess you’re innocent after all.” She set the basket on the table, effectively blocking my view of “Ellen.” She sat in the chair next to my bed and pulled a notebook out of her purse. “Why don’t you let me write an article to set the record straight? It only seems fair.”
“You want to write a retraction?”
“Well, not a retraction exactly. More like a here’s what happened since we last talked. An update.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, I’m going to write it whether you talk to me or not. There are plenty of other people I can get the details from. I don’t need your input. I was just offering to be nice.”
“You amaze me. You never change.”
“Hard to argue with perfection, don’t you think? Now, why don’t you tell me how you figured out Dotty was the murderer?”
I glanced over at Meg. I was intending to give her my can-you-believe-this look, but Meg’s face had turned a brilliant red. Her eyes were slits. If she had been a cartoon, steam would have been billowing out of her ears.
“Lucy.” Meg’s voice was tight. “If you want to keep writing for me, I suggest you leave. Now.”
“But what about the story, Meg? You’re going to have to run this story.” Lucy sounded incredulous.
“Yes, I will run the story. But you won’t be writing it.”
“Who else is there? I’m the best reporter you have.”
“I’m giving it to Bree to write.”
“You’re giving it to Bree? Bree’s not a reporter.”
“She is now. And if you don’t get out of here, I’ll give her your job.”
Lucy threw up her hands. “I’m out of here. Sorry I disturbed you. Apparently, you haven’t been getting enough sleep or something.” She gathered her bag and scooted out of the room.
I looked at Meg. “You really want me to write the article? I thought you were kidding.”
“You write at least as well as Lucy. Better when you put your mind to it. I’m surprised you never asked me to let you contribute.”
“It never occurred to me.”
“Well, you’d better start working on it. If you do a good job, I’ll give you a staff writing position, and Deirdre can do paste-up. It’s time you moved on to something that challenges you.”
“Paste-up challenges me.”
“Get real, Bree. You can do paste-up in your sleep.”
Sixteen
Meg and I were alone at the paper. I had too many distractions at home, so I dragged a table out of storage and hauled it to the paper along with my laptop. Tom helped me cart it up the stairs, and I placed it in front of the window, so I could spy on the town while I worked. I knocked out a rough draft of my article and made notes about the incident with Gunnar.
An eraser bounced off the table and landed in my lap. I looked over my shoulder to where Meg was sitting. “Hey, that was a good shot,” she said.
“Trying to get my attention?”
“Yeah. My barn is almost finished. Another week at most, probably less. I won’t be hanging around with Scott anymore.”
“Where’s his next job?”
“All the way over in Goshen. And he lives in Barnard. I doubt we’ll see him over this way.”
“How are you feeling about that?” I knew how I felt about it, but I was keeping it to myself.
“It’s probably for the best. Who am I kidding? Scott made me feel young, attractive. Funny. Now I feel sick to my stomach about the whole thing. I liked the way I felt when I was with Scott, but I’m not willing to give up my marriage for it. But I feel kind of addicted. Don’t be surprised if I’m cranky for a while.”
“Like you’re not cranky every day. I’m surprised Deirdre puts up with it. Where is Deirdre today, anyway? She didn’t quit did she?” I was afraid I would be back typesetting any minute now.
“No, she didn’t quit. She has a dentist appointment today. Don’t worry. I’m not making you back into a typesetter.”
“I wasn’t worried about it,” I lied. “I’m a good typesetter.” I pictured myself getting a swift kick in the butt. What was I doing? Trying to lie my way out of being a reporter?
Yikes.
Feet pounded up the stairs, and Rob burst into the office. He stopped inside the door and scanned the room. He waved a hand at Meg and headed over to me.
“Hey, is it true you got stabbed?” Rob reached out as if to touch my arm.
I jerked back from his touch. “Don’t touch it! It hurts.”
“Wow. That’s wild. How’d that happen?” He pulled a chair over to my desk.
“I got stupid and chased Dotty across a field. There were cops all over the place, but somehow I felt the need to get myself stabbed.” I shook my head.
“I take it you’re not recommending apprehending criminals as a hobby?”
“Not in the least. It sounds way cooler than it is.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiled at me. “Listen, I’ve got a couple of tickets to the motorcycle races at Loudon for a week Saturday. Would you like to come?”
“Won’t Lisa get her knickers in a twist if you take me to the races?”
“Nah, she’s not into motorcycles. She begged off.”
“Yeah, I’d love to go to the races. Maybe by then I’ll be off the pain pills.”
“Does that matter?”
“Kind of sad to go watch the races and not be able to drink a beer.”
Rob laughed. “It’s a date, then. This is off subject, but did you ever find out why Dotty killed her sister?”
“No, never did.”
“Motive,” Meg said. “You need to find out.”
“You expect me to interview a woman who stabbed me in the arm with scissors? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Do it before they let her out on bail. At least then you’ll be supervised,” said Meg.
“And she won’t have access to any sharp instruments. They don’t let inmates have pencils, do they? I’d hate for you to get stabbed with a pencil. The lead might break off in your arm.” Rob was laughing.
“Very funny. Great. Just what I always wanted to do. Confront a psychotic killer.” Maybe I should go back to typesetting, after all. No one ever tried to kill me for misplacing an ad.
* * * * *
“You want to do what? Are you nuts?” Tom was clearly not thrilled about me interviewing Dotty.
“Listen, your wife assigned this to me. Did I ask to be a reporter? No. But if I’m going to do the job, I have to be able to interview creepoids. So give me a break, and let me in to see Dotty.”
“Her lawyer will never consent to this.” Tom shook his head. “But I can ask, if you want me to.”
“I do.” Once I’ve taken hold of a thing, it’s hard to get me to let go.
* * * * *
A couple of days later, I found myself in a little room sitting across from Dotty. She was wearing an ugly orange jump suit, and her hands were cuffed. A female officer stood at the door, and Steve Leftsky was sitting next to me. Those were Tom’s conditions. If Dotty went for me, I’d have double back-up. The truth was, now that I was sitting here, I had no idea how to start. Hey, Dotty, why’d you kill your sister? seemed kind of rude.
“So Dotty, how are you doing?”
Lame. Really lame.
“Other than being charged with killing my sister? Oh, just fine. How ‘bout you? Is your arm healing okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Do you know why I’m here?” I examined her face. I found it hard to believe she would confess any wrongdoing to me.
“I do. My lawyer advised me against talking to you. But maybe if I get a lot of press, they’ll change the venue. I could really drag this out. Not that it matters. I think I’m going to plead guilty anyway.”
“So you admit you did it?” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word kill or murder.
“It would be stupid of me to deny it after concealing the murder weapon, running from the cops, and stabbing you in the arm. Sorry about that, by the way. It was a heatof-the-moment thing.”
“Sure, I can understand that.”
Just don’t try and get too close to me again.
“But why did you do it?”
“Why did I stab you? No. You mean, why did I kill Vera. I would have thought that would be perfectly clear. She’s been bullying me my whole life.”
“So why didn’t you change jobs or move. That would have been a lot less drastic.”
“I didn’t really mean to kill her. We were in a housekeeping closet, and she was up on a stepstool trying to find something she had hidden behind those hideous Christmas balls. It was the usual thing. She was telling me how stupid I was, how I never did anything right, and then the basket tipped, and those heavy, glass balls started bouncing off her head. She fell. She was lying on the floor holding her head and yelling at me. She called me a stupid bitch. I’m not sure what happened next. One minute she was lying on the floor, swearing at me, and the next minute, I was whacking her on the head with a sparkly glass ball. It was worth it. She stopped yelling and got real quiet. Her head was bleeding.” Dotty ran her sleeve across her face. Her eyes were glazed, and there was a layer of sweat on her upper lip.
“But why did you hide the balls? If you’d left them, it might have looked like an accident.”
“My fingerprints were on that ball with Vera’s blood. I put on cleaning gloves and threw most of the balls into the woods. If they were found, so what? No prints. They weren’t all there, but if someone noticed that, they’d just think it was lost in the woods. I threw the basket in the fireplace and made sure it burned. But I had to get rid of the ball I hit her with. I’ve seen all those ‘CSI’ shows. I know that even if I cleaned the ball, there could be traces of blood. So I tossed my gazing ball in the pond and put the Christmas ball on the stand. It wasn’t right, though. You noticed it right away. It was too big for the stand. I guess Vera was right about me, I don’t do things right.”
“Why didn’t you just toss the Christmas ball in the pond?” That’s what I would have done.
“Didn’t you know? They float. They’re not solid all the way through. We floated them in a bathtub one year for a celebration. The bath was full of flowers and those floating balls. We lit candles and set them on the ledge around the tub. We had to take the balls out of the bath before the woman used it. I don’t remember who did that. It wasn’t Vera. She never did stuff like that.”
“Can I ask you one more thing?”
“Sure.”
“Did you tell your nephew to set fire to my house?” “God, no.”
Rats. Now I still had to worry about someone coming by in the night and crisping me while I slept.
“No. That was Vera’s son Sid. He read in the paper how you were a suspect. He got real mad that you were out of jail and running around free. So he talked his cousin into helping him. Didn’t think it was right. He came over and told me about it. I told him not to be foolish, and I’d whip him if he tried anything like that.”
“How old is Sid’s cousin?” Relief washed over me. No late-night crisping for me.
“Oh, he’s thirty-two. Ought to know better by now.”
Dotty was led away without making any attempt to stab me with a pencil or any other object. I was feeling distinctly creepy. I couldn’t sense any remorse or any other feelings, for that matter, around the death of her sister. I shivered and followed Steve out of the room.
“Well, that was interesting,” said Steve. “Remind me to do something nice for my sister.”
“Why? You worried she’ll smack you in the head with a ball if you don’t?” We headed down the hall toward the exit.
“It never hurts to take out a little insurance.”
I punched Steve on the shoulder. “Your sister is not in the least like that.”
“Watch it! You’ll get yourself arrested for assaulting an office of the peace.” I snorted. “Oh, that was ladylike. I’ll bet Jim loves it when you make that noise.”
“Jim is no longer seeing me, if you must know. But there are some who find my snorting quite appealing. I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.”
“As if. What are you up to now?” He opened the door for me. “Back to the paper to write up your story?”
“Something like that. Thanks.”
“Thanks for what?”
“Sitting through that interview with me, and opening the door.”
“Ain’t no thing.” He saluted me as I walked through the door.