Haunting Harold

by Jenna Bennett

  “I’m getting old,” he informed me when we were underway.

  “You didn’t look old when you went over the ditch earlier.”

  That got me a half grin. “I almost fell in at the end.”

  “It’s your shoes,” I said. “Very elegant, and I’m sure very expensive, but not great for outdoor activities. Although Zachary had to go down in the ditch and then up again. So did Aaron. You did fine.”

  “Glad you think so. What does Greg Newsome have on his feet?”

  I stared at him. “I have no idea. Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious,” Mendoza said with a bland smile.

  “I don’t think he’d be able to take that ditch any better than you did, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Good to know,” Mendoza said. That was bland, too. I looked at him for a second. He glanced my way, and the corners of his mouth pulled up a little more, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Hmph,” I said, and leaned back against the seat, arms folded.

  Mendoza chuckled and kept driving.

  * * *

  After a slow crawl up the road and into Somerset, we picked up Zachary at the gate.

  “Let’s go,” I told Mendoza. “You have places to go, people to see. Just drop us off at the office on your way past. Zachary can take me home.”

  Zachary nodded. Mendoza looked like he hesitated, but then he nodded, too.

  The drive passed mostly in silence. Zachary was probably reliving the glorious moments when he chased down a killer—or, to be fair, a suspected killer—and helped the police capture him, while Mendoza, I imagined, was planning his interview with Aaron. What to mention, and when, to see if he could get Aaron to confess to something.

  “The only thing I don’t understand,” I said, “is what happened last night.”

  They both looked at me, and I added, “The rest of it makes sense. Aaron did the robberies. Harold found out. Aaron decided to shoot him. I guess it must have been Harold who invited Tara, along with me and Greg, to visit. The story he wanted to tell Greg probably had to do with Tara and me, and nothing to do with anything Aaron did.”

  “Probably,” Mendoza said.

  “But why did he shoot at me yesterday? Or at us? Did he think Heidi knew something about what he did, and he wanted to silence her, too?”

  “They did talk on Friday,” Zachary piped up. “He drove up to the house in the golf cart after Mr. Newsome left in the afternoon. Maybe she told him what her husband suspected. Maybe Mr. Newsome said something to Aaron on his way out through the gate, and Aaron drove up to ask Mrs. Newsome what it was about.”

  “I’ll ask him,” Mendoza said. “But it’s also possible that he was just trying to pin the blame for Harold’s murder on Tara. He saw her there on Saturday morning. You said he came down the hill behind her.”

  I nodded. “Or maybe they were working together. Maybe Cressida told Tara that she and Heidi and Harold were going to be gone for the weekend in July, and Tara told Aaron. She didn’t like Harold much. She might not have been opposed to ripping him off.”

  “Anything’s possible,” Mendoza said. “Once I get there, I’ll find out.”

  Outside the office, Mendoza declined to come inside. “I’ll talk to you later, and let you know how it went. Whether he implicates anyone else.”

  Like Tara.

  “Make sure she gets inside safely,” Mendoza instructed Zachary.

  He nodded. I rolled my eyes. “Go on, Detective. Aaron’s waiting.”

  Mendoza went. Zachary and I strolled into the office.

  “Everything go well?” Rachel asked.

  I nodded. “Aaron—the gate guard—tried to make a run for it. Zachary and Mendoza caught him. He was transported to the police station. Mendoza’s on his way there now. Anything new here?”

  “Mrs. Newsome called,” Rachel said, and handed me a pink slip. It did indeed have Heidi’s name and number on it. And a scribbled time, just a few minutes ago, when the call must have come in. “She said to call her.”

  “I wonder why she didn’t call my cell phone.” I dug in my purse for it. And came up empty. “Hmm. Maybe I left it at home when I ran out to meet Greg.”

  “He asked you out again,” Rachel said.

  I nodded. “And we’re having dinner tomorrow night.”

  “How does the detective feel about that?”

  “Mendoza?” I headed for the hallway toward the offices. “I imagine he feels fine. At least it doesn’t seem like Greg is a suspect anymore. I’m going to call Heidi from back here. She probably heard about Aaron and wants to know what’s going on.”

  I drifted off into my office and sat down behind the desk. Out in the lobby, I could hear Rachel and Zachary start up a low-voiced conversation, but they were too quiet for me to make out what they were saying.

  Heidi answered on the first ring. “Gina!”

  “I guess you heard about the gate guy.”

  “Yes!” I could practically see her eyes bugs out of her skull over the phone. “I came home from the funeral home, and Ike said Aaron had tried to make a run for it in a golf cart, and the police chased him down and arrested him.”

  “I’m sure Mendoza will get around to tell you about it,” I said, “but that’s it in a nutshell. It turns out Aaron came into some money this summer, after a couple of burglaries in Somerset. You and Harold lost a painting and some other things—”

  “In July,” Heidi said. “That was Aaron? I thought Cressida did it.”

  “Harold’s daughter? Why would you think she’d do it? And wasn’t she out of town with you and Harold when it happened?”

  “She probably told her aunt to go in and take it,” Heidi said. “That painting was the last thing Harold had from when he was married to Carly.”

  So maybe there was something to my idea about Tara and Aaron being in cahoots after all.

  “You should make sure Mendoza knows that,” I said.

  “Where is he?”

  I told her he’d gone into downtown to interview Aaron. And changed the subject. “If I had known you were arranging Harold’s funeral today, I would have offered to go with you. I remember doing that for David. It was hard.”

  “I’m all right,” Heidi said, with a stiff upper lip I could hear all the way from Forest Hill. “Does Mendoza think Aaron shot Harold?”

  “It certainly seems as if Aaron did something, or he wouldn’t have run. You… um… didn’t have anything to do with him, did you?”

  “To do with…?” And then her voice turned indignant. “Certainly not. What a thing to suggest. No, Gina. I was faithful to my husband.”

  “I’m sure you were,” I said peaceably, since I had no real reason to believe otherwise.

  “Is he going to try to pin this on me?” Heidi wanted to know, her voice shrill. “Does Detective Mendoza think I cheated on Harold? That I was in cahoots with one of the guards? Is that what’s going on here?”

  “I have no idea what’s going on,” I said. “Mendoza’s the one talking to him. Not me.”

  She took a breath, and then another one. When she spoke again, her voice was calm. “I meant to ask. How are you doing today?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, surprised that she’d ask.

  “How are you getting around? Your car’s totaled, right?”

  Oh, that’s why. “Not quite. The police towed it. I guess, when I get it back, I’ll have to arrange for a new windshield.” And some bodywork on the door that was hit by the bullet.

  Unless the police took care of that. But they probably wouldn’t.

  “Do you need a ride?” Heidi asked.

  Oh. “Thank you. That’s nice of you to think of. But I’m fine. Zachary’ll take me home, and then I’ll just stay there until I hear something from someone.” Or until tomorrow morning, when Zachary or Rachel could pick me up if I hadn’t had word about my car by then.

  “Let me know,” Heidi said, and hung up.

  I did the same, just as Zach
ary appeared in the doorway. “Ready to go?”

  “We might as well. There’s nothing more we can do here, and God knows when Mendoza will call back. And Edwina’s been alone for a while. I should get home and let her out.”

  Zachary nodded, and waited for me to get up from the desk and follow him out.

  “So how was it?” I asked him in the car as we were scraping along the ground in the beater. (As an aside, I couldn’t wait to get my high-riding SUV back. I was no longer cut out for this kind of car.)

  Zachary shot me a grin, his freckled face, topped by his carroty red hair, beaming. “It was great. I took down a bad guy.”

  “You certainly did,” I said. “And very nicely, too. That last leap as he was almost getting away, and the way you grabbed him around the knees and made him fall… it was masterful.”

  He shot me a look as if he suspected I was making fun of him. I wasn’t—not really—so I dialed my enthusiasm down a couple of notches. “It was really great, Zachary. You’re going to make a wonderful policeman someday.”

  He flushed. “Thank you, Gina.”

  “Although Rachel and I are going to miss you when you leave us to go to the police academy.”

  “I’m not old enough yet,” Zachary said. “And when I am, maybe I won’t want to.”

  “Have you changed your mind?”

  He shrugged, and wriggled a little in the seat. “Not really. I mean, not necessarily. But maybe I’ll just get a PI license instead, and keep working with you.”

  He was certainly very welcome to do that. “We’ll need more business coming in to keep us both busy. But as long as that’s not a problem, you’re welcome to stick around. Rachel and I like having you.”

  He grinned. “I like being there. It sure beats sitting at the desk at the Apex.”

  I’m sure it did. Sitting behind a desk for eight hours a day, buzzing people in and out of a door, must be tedious beyond belief. “What’s your opinion of Aaron? Do you think he did it?”

  He slanted me a look. “Killed Mr. Newsome? He might have. If he did, it was probably because Mr. Newsome figured out that he was behind the burglaries.”

  “Do you think he was behind the burglaries?”

  “It makes sense,” Zachary said. “He knew who’d be there and who’d be away. He probably knew some of what they had in their houses. And there’s that new car.”

  “So you don’t think Heidi was right, and Cressida and Tara took the painting.”

  “Is that what she said?”

  I nodded. “On the phone just now. She said it was the only thing Harold had left from when he was married to Carly, and that’s why Tara wanted it.”

  Zachary thought about it. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what Detective Mendoza says. If Aaron did it, Detective Mendoza will get it out of him.”

  “You make it sound like he’s breaking out the rubber hoses,” I told him, not without a smile.

  “He wouldn’t do that. But if Aaron did it, Detective Mendoza will make sure he finds out.”

  “I’m sure he will,” I said. “I guess we’ll just wait to hear from him. I’m going to go inside and enjoy my dog’s company and the fact that nobody’s gunning for me.”

  Zachary nodded, and pulled the car to a stop at the foot of the stairs. “Take care, Gina.”

  “You, too,” I told him, and waved while he drove down the driveway. When he was out of sight, I let myself into the house and called for Edwina.

  * * *

  The foyer was empty, but there was the sound of nails scrabbling on the hardwood floor as my dog came running to greet me.

  “Hello, sweetheart.” She stopped a few feet from me and skidded the rest of the way. “Want to go out and pee?”

  She indicated that she did, and I followed her back outside. She ran into the grass and squatted, and I waited at the door until she came trotting back. I was just about to close and lock the door again when I heard the sound of an engine coming up the driveway from the road.

  It’s a pretty sizable property, so it took a second or two before the car came into view. When it did, I recognized Heidi’s little Porsche coming up the hill. She zipped up in front of the door and cut the engine. And got out with a practiced smile. “Hi, Gina.”

  “Hi,” I said. When she didn’t say anything else, no explanation for why she had decided to seek me out, I added, “What’s up?”

  She’d walked around the Porsche by now, and was bent over into the passenger seat. When she straightened, she was brandishing a bottle of wine in each hand. “I came to celebrate.”

  Celebrate?

  “I haven’t heard from Mendoza yet,” I said. “Have you?”

  She shook her head. “But it seems pretty open and shut, doesn’t it?”

  I guess it did. It was a little disappointing, maybe, that the big climax to the case had been chasing after a golf cart at twenty-five miles per hour, but on the other hand, I didn’t want a murderer walking around free, so the fact that Aaron was in custody was probably worth celebrating.

  “Sure,” I said. “Come on in.”

  “Thank you.” She swept up the stairs and past me in a flurry of suede and Chanel.

  I shut the door behind her. “Go on into the living room. I’ll get the glasses.” And the cork screw. And maybe some snacks, since—if we sat here and finished both bottles of wine—I might end up getting tipsy in the middle of the afternoon “I’ll be right back.”

  Heidi nodded. She shrugged the suede coat off her shoulders and draped it over the back of the sofa while I left my purse on the console table in the hall before I headed for the kitchen. Edwina received a biscuit and settled down on her pillow to chomp on it. I poured some cheese and crackers onto a plate, grabbed two glasses and the bottle opener, and headed back to the living room. By the time I got there, Heidi had made herself comfortable on the sofa.

  Chapter 19

  “This is a nice room.” She glanced around at it.

  I did the same, before I put the tray on the coffee table. “David hired a designer. I was twenty-two when we moved here.”

  And I’d been totally incapable of creating anything like this room. My idea of good furniture at that time had been whatever I hadn’t bought second-hand.

  “Harold let me design the house in Somerset,” Heidi said complacently and reached for the cork screw. “Red or white?”

  I prefer white, and told her so. “You have a beautiful house. I’m sorry about the painting you lost. I guess it never turned up?”

  She shook her head. “Does Detective Mendoza really think Aaron stole it?”

  “That’s what it sounded like to me,” I said, settling back with the glass of wine she handed me. “Apparently he came into some money over the summer—right after that burglary—that isn’t accounted for in any other way. Did you never suspect him?”

  “No, why would I?” She leaned back, too. “He’s just one of the guards. It’s not like we talk.”

  “You talked on Friday afternoon,” I said, “didn’t you? Harold left, and a couple minutes later Aaron showed up at your house.”

  She put the glass down and fixed me with a stare. “How do you know that? Are you following me?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “I was in Knoxville Friday afternoon.”

  “Then how do you know that Aaron and I talked?”

  “Someone else told me,” I said, and didn’t specify who, since she didn’t need to know it was Zachary.

  She scowled, and I added, “All he said was that Aaron pulled up outside the house and the two of you talked for a couple of minutes. There’s nothing wrong with talking to people. I talk to people all the time.”

  “That’s true,” Heidi said, and picked up her glass again. She didn’t take a sip, though, just watched the ruby red liquid through narrowed eyes.

  “Are you worried that Aaron is going to tell Mendoza something different?” I asked. “I mean, if it was an innocent conversation, that’s just what he’ll say, ri
ght?”

  She looked at me without speaking for a moment. Then, finally, her face relaxed. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it wasn’t too far off, either. “Yes, of course. What else would he say?”

  “I can’t imagine,” I said, and pushed to my feet as my phone rang, still in my purse on the console table in the hallway. “Excuse me. I should see who that is.”

  “Of course,” Heidi said and, after a second, tossed back what was left in her glass. As I headed for the door, she grabbed for the bottle.

  It took a few seconds to dig into the purse and find the phone. By the time I had, it had fallen silent. The display said Missed Call with Mendoza’s number after it.

  “It’s Mendoza,” I told Heidi. “I should call him back and see what he wants. Maybe Aaron confessed.”

  It only took a second, and then Mendoza picked up. “Where are you?” he demanded, without any kind of greeting whatsoever.

  “At home,” I said. “Good to hear your voice, too.”

  He didn’t answer, and I added, “I don’t have a car, remember? Zachary drove me home. And made sure I got inside safely, like you asked.”

  “Good.” He sounded relieved by that.

  “And then Heidi stopped by, and we’re—”

  I never got the second half of the sentence out, because Mendoza said a bad word. Before I could comment, he had gone on, his voice grim. “Listen to me, Gina.”

  “Of course,” I said, while my insides felt all soft and gooey because he’d used my first name.

  “I need you to act like nothing’s wrong.”

  “Like—?” I bit back the rest of the sentence, as well as the automatic retort that nothing was wrong. Instead, I made sure my voice was light when I told him, “Sure. I can do that. Why?”

  “Because Aaron said he didn’t shoot Harold,” Mendoza said.

  Huh. But— “Isn’t that what he would say even if he didn’t, though?”

  “Yes,” Mendoza admitted, “but he also said he didn’t take the gun from the house.”