by Dee Ernst
“Okay. Don’t worry, I’ll get it back to the house. I’ll call you when I get to Blackburn.”
I hung up. Carol’s house was only three blocks. Uphill, to be sure, but just three blocks. I called her.
“Carol, are you home? I’m on my way, okay? If I’m not at your front door in fifteen minutes, you need to come out and look for me,”
“What? Ellie, what’s wrong?”
“Are you home?”
“Yes.”
“I’m walking up from Blackburn. Fifteen minutes.”
I turned off the phone and stuffed it into my pocket. I left the keys in the ignition, and got out of the truck. I started walking up the hill, my head down against the wind. In the silence I heard a trilling sound, and was so startled I almost tripped. I froze, listening. There it was again, and I recognized it as the chatter of a raccoon. I lifted my head and looked out into the park. There was no movement in the trees. I stepped up onto the snow bank and strained my eyes.
There, just on the other side of snow bank, covered by a thin layer of snow, was Beth Riley. I recognized the fur coat, and Cait’s boots on her feet.
She was staring up at the night sky, blood staining the snow behind her.
Someone screamed. And then again. I turned and stumbled down, and fell hard on the street. As I hit the ground, I felt the hard impact of the ground against my cheek and I gasped with pain.
That’s when I realized that the person screaming was me.
* * *
Somebody was calling my name, and I squinted through the dark. Someone was coming in my direction, moving slowly and carefully, a flashlight in hand.
Carol grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. “Ellie, what are you doing out here? Oh, my gosh, you’re practically frozen. What happened?”
My teeth were chattering so hard I couldn’t answer. I tried to tell her about Beth, but I couldn’t form the words. I pointed toward the park. I could see her frown, then watched as she climbed the snow bank. She stood for a second, then climbed down the other side.
I closed my eyes until I felt her hand on my shoulder.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said.
I let her lead me up the street, onto her front porch, and inside.
* * *
Emma McLaren met us, tut-tutting and shaking her head. She peeled off my coat, knelt down to pull off my boots, then actually started rubbing my feet. Carol, now coatless, pulled me and set me in a chair in front of the fireplace.
I held my hands and feet toward the heat. “I need to call Sam.” My teeth were chattering so hard I almost couldn’t get the words out.
Emma wrapped my fingers around a steaming cup of something. “Drink,” she said.
There was tea, and brandy, and a few things I could not recognize by taste or smell, but a shock of warmth went right down to my toes.
Carol dug my phone out of my coat pocket and handed it to me. I hit redial.
“Sam, where are you?”
“I’m almost to Blackburn. Did you make it to Carol’s?”
“Sam, Beth is dead. She’s right up from the truck, in the park. You won’t be able to see her from the road. She’s on the other side of the snow bank.”
The line went dead. I stared into the fire.
I felt a touch on my shoulder, and Carol knelt beside me, a plastic bag of ice in her hand.
“Hold this against your cheek,” she said quietly. “You’ve got quite a bruise there.”
I kept one hand on the mug of tea, and held the ice to my cheek. The throbbing pain lessened after a minute. I looked up at Carol. “She was dead, wasn’t she?”
She nodded. “Yes. Ellie, what can I do?” Carol asked.
I shook my head, and my phone made a noise. I looked down. It was Cait, texting me to see if it was a good time to talk. I texted back with warming fingers, no, so of course she called seconds later.
“Mom, is everything all right?”
Luckily, my teeth were no longer chattering, and I felt like I could keep the rising panic out of my voice. “Oh, honey, it’s all good. But you know, blizzard. Stuff. How are you? How’s the snow there?”
“Amazing. Tessa is really learning lots, and Aunt Suzie and Dad haven’t fought once.”
I forced a laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s only Wednesday. Can I call you tomorrow morning for a longer chat? I’m kind of in the middle of things right now.”
“Sure, but we’re out early, like, by nine. How about lunchtime? We usually come in around one for a break.”
“Good. That’s good. Love to Tessa.” I hung up, glad they were away from all this.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I need to get home.”
“You need to sit here for another few minutes,” Emma said. “The shock hasn’t worn off yet. Breathe, dear.”
I nodded and finished my tea.
Emma had brought her cats over to Carol’s, and they had curled up on various parts of her body, making her look even warmer and more crazy-lady. She stroked Frito as Biscuit tried to balance herself between the back of the chair and Emma’s neck. “Not to speak ill of the dead, but I did not like that Beth person,” she said.
I hadn’t noticed Emma at Beth’s talk, but it made sense that she was there. “Oh?”
Emma sniffed. “She was a very negative person, hiding a very devious heart behind that smiling make-up. I think she was a taker. And she was taking from someone who couldn’t afford it.”
“Really? And what makes you say that, Emma?”
She cocked her head. “I just got a feeling, you know? It hit me, very hard, when I first met her. As she spoke, the feeling got stronger. She was almost evil.” She stroked the cat and gazed into the fire as she spoke.
I stared. Mt. Abrams was split on the Emma McLaren verdict. Half the town thought she was a true witch, who could see and feel things that others could not. The other half thought she was a doddering fool who was nothing special other than having a way with herbal teas. I was usually on the fence, but she may have just knocked me over to one side.
“She couldn’t help herself, really. She was just the kind of person who had to get the last little stab in, right to the heart. That’s what killed her, you know. That last little stab.” Emma looked up from the fire and smiled brightly. “More tea?”
* * *
Carol walked me up to the little house where Glory, Shelly, and Garth had been waiting. The young couple who lived there were gracious and kind, giving us a toboggan so we could pull Glory back up the hill. They had originally offered to dig out their little Fiat and give us a ride up, but we talked them out of it easily. The going was rather slow, but not terrible.
We didn’t talk the whole way.
When we got to the house, Garth carried Glory into the living room, where she propped her obviously swollen ankle up on the coffee table, looked around like she didn’t recognize where she was, then started crying.
Garth sat by her side, patting her hand. James, Shelly and I went into the kitchen, where I poured some of Sam’s Johnny Walker.
“Beth is dead,” I said in a low voice. “She’s lying in the park.” Having said the words, I started to shake again. I took a quick gulp of scotch.
“What?” Shelly choked out a whisper. “She’s dead?”
I poured another glass and handed it to her, then one to James.
“I found the truck. It was still running. There was blood on the bumper, and I thought she hit a deer, so I went looking for her.” I suddenly realized that the blood had been hers. “I think someone ran her over.” I took another gulp, and felt it burn in my chest. “Sam knows. He’s on his way.”
James turned white and emptied his glass.
“Should we tell them?” she asked, nodding toward the living room where Glory’s sobs had turned to sniffles.
I shook my head. “Not right away. I need to hear what happened out there.”
“We should put some ice on that ankle,” Shelly said. We all nodded together an
d finished our little juice glasses of scotch.
I went back into the living room and sat on Glory’s other side, and tugged at her sleeve, trying to get her to top crying. It took a few minutes. She finally took a deep breath and looked like she was ready to manage a word or two when Shelly came in with a plastic bag full of crushed ice, and a towel, James following behind.
“Let’s get this swelling down,” Shelly said, folding the plastic bag in the towel and setting it gently on the offending ankle.
Glory winced, then shuddered.
“Glory, you need to tell us what happened,” I said
Glory sniffed. “She tried to run me down.”
“Who? Beth?” I asked, pulling back. “Beth tried to run you down? With the truck?”
On her other side, Garth was swearing steadily under his breath.
Glory nodded. “I was coming up one of the streets that hadn’t been plowed yet. I thought it would be shorter. Boot kept tugging on the leash, and the snow was pretty deep, so I was having a hard time. Then Boot changed direction really fast, and the leash slipped out of my hand.” She wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. “Sorry.”
I glanced at Boot, sleeping by the fire. “No, she does that. Go on.”
“Well, that’s when I slipped. Face down in the snow. I was so pissed off, but I wasn’t hurt. And then I heard the truck. It was at the top of the street, so I waved my arms. I thought that maybe Garth had left James’ house and somehow made it up to get the truck. I was in the middle of the street, and the truck was coming right at me and I saw it was Beth at the wheel, and I honestly thought, well, this is good, I’ll get in the truck and Beth will take me back, but she didn’t slow down at all.” Tears filled her eyes again. “She came right at me. I was in the middle of the street and she came right at me and I had to jump, like, really jump to the side of the road, and she went past me. That’s when I hurt my ankle, and I was scared to death she’d come back around to try to finish the job, so I just started yelling, and Phil and Teri heard me and took me into their house.” She was sobbing again. “I thought she was going to come back. I mean, she wanted to kill me. Why?”
“Because she knew you could ruin her,” Garth said bitterly. “She was worried about her precious career.” He glared at me. “Where’s Sam? He’s a cop, he needs to arrest her. Attempted murder.”
“Beth is dead,” I said quietly.
I had always thought that, when confronted with the discovery of their crime, a killer would say something or do something, even if it was just a telltale expression that would give them away. But I guess that only happened in books, because as I looked at the faces around me, they were completely blank.
Chapter 6
Garth finally blinked. “She’s dead?”
I nodded. “Yeah. She’s in Lower Main Park.” I didn’t tell them that I was the one who found her, staring up into the snowy night.
Glory turned white. “What happened to her?” she choked.
“I’m not sure. She may have been run over by Garth’s truck. Sam is on his way.”
Garth stared out the window toward the driveway, as though he was realizing for the first time his truck was not there. “Did you say the truck ran over her? My truck? But, how did my truck even—”
“You left the keys here, and Beth took them. She said she was going to try to find Glory.” I frowned. Had that been her plan all along, to try to run Glory over? No, that was impossible. Glory had left with Garth and James. Beth could not have known that Glory would be alone on a dark and snowy street. But still…
“But I don’t understand,” Shelly blurted. “She was driving the truck. How could she have been run over?”
“She must have gotten out for some reason,” I said slowly, trying to picture what could have happened. “Or maybe she picked someone up, and then got out of the truck.”
“And they ran her over?” Shelly asked, her voice cracking.
I stood up and went back to the kitchen. Once there, I leaned against the counter top, taking deep, slow breaths.
Whoever ran her over was in my living room, unless some random stranger appeared out of nowhere and decided to kill her without motive. Garth and Glory were the only people who knew her and knew where she was.
I straightened up.
James also knew her.
One thing I’d learned after editing murder mysteries for twenty-something years was that the killer was usually a family member. Or ex-family member. After all, you really had to know a person pretty well to hate them enough to kill them. True, not everything that happened in books happened in real life, but I was pretty sure that Sam, at least, was going to count James as a suspect.
“Ellie?”
I turned, startled. James was standing there, looking concerned. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Yes, I just—I needed some water.” I turned to the sink and ran the water, looking for a glass.
James handed me one quietly. “I’m on the list, right?”
I filled the glass, turned off the water, and took a long swallow. “Of course, James. You’re the ex-husband. You’re probably at the top.”
“I hadn’t seen Beth in almost five years before I walked in here yesterday. You have to believe me.”
I turned to face him, my back pressed against the sink. “I believe you. But that doesn't mean anything does it?”
He lowered his eyes and shook his head. “I thought we were friends, Ellie.”
“We are, James.”
“Are you sure? You don’t blame me for breaking up Shelly’s marriage?” He lifted his gaze back to mine.
“No, I don’t. The only person who’s responsible for Shelly’s marriage is Shelly. The choices were hers to make.”
I took another long drink of water. “Give me a timeline, James. I need to know where everyone was, from when you left my house right up until the time I found the truck.”
He turned abruptly and walked back into the living room.
I followed him, feeling uneasy and a little angry. “James, it’s important. I need to know where you were. Where everybody was. Let’s face it, someone here killed her.”
Glory, Garth, and Shelly all looked up at me as I said it, and everyone began speaking at once.
I closed my eyes against the outburst of protests. All I wanted was to go upstairs, close the door, and try to forget everything about this night.
Boot sprang up and started barking as Sam came through the door. Behind him was his partner in the Mt. Abrams Homicide Department, John Monroe.
So, this was an official visit.
* * *
He shook off his coat and hung it by the door, his movements slow and deliberate. The room fell silent.
“Was I interrupting?” He looked at all of us, his face unsmiling. “I’m just going to make sure there’s plenty of gas in the generator,” he said. “I wouldn’t want the power to suddenly go out.”
He moved toward the back of the house. John Monroe nodded to me and stood by the front door, not taking of his coat, his hands in his pockets.
“Coffee, John?” I asked as I stood up.
He shook his head. “No thanks, Ellie.”
Shelly moved over to the fireplace and sat on the arm of the chair where James was sitting. With Garth and Glory on the couch, I crossed to the other side of the fireplace, TO the chair where Boot usually curled up. I nudged her, and she slid off the chair. She stared resentfully at me for a few seconds, then sighed, hopped on the end of the couch, and promptly went back to sleep.
Sam came back, rubbing his hands together. “Good evening, everybody,” he said, his voice flat and calm. “Beth Riley was found in a snow bank near Lower Main Park, right on Blackburn Road. It looks as though she was hit from behind and thrown forward and to the side.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “Ellie left the truck in the middle of the road, so—”
“Wait,” Garth said. “Ellie?”
I cleared my throat. “I found the truck, empt
y, with the motor running. I got in and tried to find Beth. When I got by the park, the truck went into a skid and I couldn’t control it. It was, ah, stopped by a snow bank. I left it there and started walking back. I’m the one who found Beth.”
“You?” Glory’s voice rose an octave. “You found her, and you didn’t tell us?”
“I didn’t really have a chance,” I said lamely.
Garth narrowed his eyes. “That’s a lie. You just wanted to see what we had to say. I think—”
“Everyone, please.” Sam raised his voice and held up his hands. “Please. Listen to me. Garth, your truck was involved. She was hit with enough force to send her some distance through the air. I’m going forward thinking this was a deliberate act.”
He was quiet and looked around the room. “This is where someone stands up and tells me it was an accident.”
“You just said it was deliberate,” Shelly said, very loudly.
“But it still could have been an accident,” Glory said. She glanced around. “It was dark, and she was wearing a dark coat. She would have been really hard to see, right?”
“So, you’re suggesting that whoever hit her just happened to be going down the same road as she was, and never really meant to hit her with the truck?” Sam lifted an eyebrow. “Really? And what was she doing walking down Blackburn in the first place?”
Garth and Glory exchanged glances.
“Maybe Ellie hit her,” Garth said loudly.
I stared at him, then looked at Sam.
“Oh?” was all he said.
“She just said that she went into a skid,” Garth said.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “I found the truck on Windsor, and there was already blood on the bumper.”
“Says you,” Glory said in a quiet voice. “How do you know you didn’t hit her when you were in that skid? You probably didn’t see her.”
Sam’s face was impassive. “That’s a valid theory.”
“No, it’s not,” I said, glaring at him.
John Monroe straightened up. “Why don’t you tell us what happened here. Obviously, the victim drove off in someone else’s truck. Can you explain?”