Murder on Sagebrush Lane (29 page)

Harrie leaned in. “When did he start watching the Rinaldi house?”

DJ smiled. “Actually he didn’t need to watch it. He had made friends with Winnie Devlin, and she did it for him. He gave her some song and dance about being an insurance adjuster. He told her he needed to get in the house to evaluate the damage from the murder, but that the police wouldn’t let him in. She said she’d let him know as soon as the police packed up and left the house unguarded.”

Caroline had listened, spellbound, for a long time. Now she said, “So Winnie, pretended to go along with Murray, saying she’d watch the house for him.”

“Apparently,” DJ said. “But she probably didn’t realize in the beginning that Murray was the same person she’d seen looking in the window Sunday night. She must have figured that out later, and when she did, it must have seemed like a golden opportunity for her to really score on her snooping.”

Ginger said, “I can’t believe she wasn’t smarter than that.”

Swannie sighed. “People can be incredibly shortsighted when they get greedy. Winnie Devlin was done in by her own lack of understanding that some people will go to any length to keep their secrets safe.

Harrie shook her head. Winnie’s own personality had been her undoing.

“That poor, sad woman,” Harrie said. “She wanted to know everything about everybody and be in on what happened all around her. I guess she figured out too late her insurance adjuster buddy was the murderer.”

“Apparently,” DJ said. “He told us that last Friday, he caught her photographing him from her window. That’s when she put the bite on him.”

Everyone sat in an uneasy silence. For a moment, Harrie felt an overwhelming sadness. Then Dennis and two of his assistants appeared in the doorway, laden with trays of food, and the mood became lighter and more celebratory.

The partygoers toasted and exclaimed their delight at the array of artfully prepared dishes. Harrie and Ginger grinned at each other across the table. The evening had exceeded all their expectations.

After coffee and dessert were served, Colin Crider spoke up. “I have a confession to make. When I arrived at Michael’s house early Monday morning, I couldn’t figure out what had happened. I thought the body on the floor was Michael, and I couldn’t locate the little girl. Then when I saw you two,” he turned to nod at DJ and Harrie, “I knew all hell would break loose before much longer. I hadn’t found the thumb drive, so I did the only thing I could think of.”

Harrie frowned. “What did you do?”

Crider grinned. “I drove away in Michael’s dark blue BMW. I thought he might have hidden the thumb drive in the car. We often did that sort of thing in our other line of work.”

DJ shook his head. “That certainly explains a lot. You must have been sitting outside our house when Harrie and Ginger were trying to pack up stuff and take Katie to my mom’s.”

“Yes,” Crider said, “I realized too late that was a bad idea. But I couldn’t be sure what was going on with Katie, and I needed to see what you were doing. I tried to follow Harrie, but she gave me the slip.” He lifted his wine glass and nodded at Harrie. “You are quite the stunt driver, Mrs. Scott. Have you ever considered a career with the CIA?”

Harrie smiled. “Glad I impressed you, Mr. Crider. I am known for my fancy driving.”

Everyone joined in laughing, and Ginger rolled her eyes. “Don’t encourage her. She already drives like a New York cab driver, and she’s never even been to New York.”

From Harrie’s viewpoint, the evening was exactly what everybody needed. Detective Sgt. Paiz, Captain Jason Paiz, and Colin Crider, thanked the group for including them in the festivities. Goodbyes were exchanged, and they all vowed to meet again as soon as Michael Rinaldi was well enough to join them in celebration of his recovery. Harrie felt a combination of relief and accomplishment at the way this week had ended.

Although two people had lost their lives because of Al Murray, miraculously Katie Rinaldi’s father lived. Katie would have at least one of her parents raise her, love her, and give her the life they had hoped to give her together.

And to Harrie McKinsey Scott, that was a beautiful reason to celebrate.

Acknowledgements

It never occurred to me when I wrote a page like this for The Easter Egg Murder, that I would have even more people to thank for this book.

My writers critique group gets first thanks for helping me through the process with another mystery about Harrie and Ginger. They were with me from the beginning on this one. I’m sad to say we lost four of these wonderful ladies since the last book came out. Mary Zerbe left us in March 2013. Then last year in 2014, three more left our ranks and crossed the rainbow bridge: Edie Duven Flaherty in late February; Jeanne Knight in early April, and Marcia Landau in late May. Our group is left with a huge hole in our ranks, and I will always be grateful for the input these wonderful women gave me for this book. More than that, they will be missed by all of us for their warmth, friendship, and the wisdom they brought to our group. They were, and are, much loved.

The remainder of the group did double duty to help me finish the book. Thanks so much to Mary Bergen Blanchard, Charlene Bell Dietz, Diane Flaherty, Joan Taitte, Margaret Tessler, and our newest member, Annie Kyle. Without them, I would be lost.

Thanks to my “Personal Assistant” Joan Taitte, for sitting through so many sessions (I lost count after three) allowing me to read the book out loud. It’s the best way to catch problems, but it can get tedious for the listener (and this time she didn’t even try to get rid of the cat.) Joan never complained once, and she held my feet to the fire until it was done. Thanks, Joan, for being my eyes and ears.

Thanks, too, to my amazing husband Don. He listened while I read the entire thing aloud—twice. No small commitment. He even sat beside me at the computer, helping me catch extra spaces between words and paragraphs. Now that’s true love.

Daughter Paula did her bit for the cause as well. She listened to disjointed readings, without benefit of continuity, and gave me her sense of what worked. I thank her for her artistic ear, love, and encouragement.

I tasked three more friends to be beta readers and give me feedback. Thanks to Jo Hunter, Suzanne McVinnie, and Richard Turner. You guys are the best. My writing critique buddy, Margaret Tessler, went the extra mile and read the entire book in just a few days. Her comments were golden, as always.

Once again, a special thanks goes to my super literary, Special Agent consultant from the FBI. He read through the entire manuscript, printed it out, and brought it to lunch one day so we could go over the parts he thought needed work. He has a gifted “eye” for the intricacies of a story, not to mention his legal expertise and procedural advice.

And finally, I must acknowledge the readers of the first book. A huge number of these folks are part of the amateur radio community, of which I am a small part. They have become enthusiastic supporters and promoters. They’ve been eagerly awaiting this new book, and I hope I don’t disappoint them.

One last, belated “thanks” goes to local KKOB AM radio talk-show host Terrie Q. Sayre. She was so kind in helping promote The Easter Egg Murder. She invited me to appear on her show several times to tell listeners about book signings, and answer questions about the story. Terry died January 22, 2015, quite suddenly from complications of the flu. She was only 54 years old and is already terribly missed by her fans.

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