Murder Runs Deep

by K. J. Emrick

  “He needed someone to talk to,” Miranda told the older woman. “He has a lot to say, when someone is willing to listen.”

  Natasha’s ire flared in her pale face. “I don’t know exactly how it is you think you’re helping, but I have to look after my son. He is very precious to me, Miss Wylder, and the poor thing has had nothing but bad news for a straight twenty-four hours. All of it involving you, I might add. I really don’t see how you can help him.”

  “And I’m not sure how inviting Maisie here in the first place helped him, Mrs. Wells,” Miranda said. She knew she might be tipping her hand but she’d had enough of this woman’s bullying ways. Paul may have elected to take it for all of his life, but she didn’t have to stand for it one more minute.

  The question caught Natasha off guard. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

  “There’s no need to deny it, Mrs. Wells. Maisie was here. Someone must have invited her. It wasn’t Paul. Ashton had no desire to have her here. He clearly wanted her out of Paul’s life from what I’ve learned. Leah certainly didn’t invite her here because she liked Maisie even less than Ashton did. So. You must have done it.”

  Jack looked impressed. She was going to have to talk to him about constantly underestimating her.

  “Well, certainly,” Natasha admitted, fluttering her gloved hands about the neckline of her dress. “I have no reason to deny it. I invited her here.”

  From his seat on the couch, Paul’s head came up. “You invited her? Mother… why?”

  Natasha sniffed in response. “Don’t question me, Paul. It’s true that Maisie was a thief and a liar, and she did a lot of harm to our family. However, there comes a time when everyone must forgive. That’s what I say.”

  Miranda didn’t believe that of her in the least. She was sure this woman had never forgiven anyone for anything in all her life.

  “Now,” Natasha kept saying, “my son is a wonderful man, Miss Wylder. I have brought him up with the utmost care and am very proud of the results. And if he could forgive Maisie after the way she treated him, then I felt that I owed it to him to try to forgive her also. However, I’m not sorry that she’s dead. I’m only sorry that it happened here.”

  “Just like Leah’s death?” Miranda pressed.

  “Yes. Just so. My poor boy, he seems only to find the most terrible women to invite into his life.”

  “Maisie,” Miranda asked, “or Leah?”

  “I shall freely admit to you that I did not like Leah Robinson, Miss Wylder. She was not quite so scheming as Maisie, but she was not a particularly kind and caring woman either. My son needs a great deal of care and a great deal of looking after. I do what I can for him but no other woman in his life has ever done right by him. As far as I have seen, he has not found anyone capable of providing him with what he needs.”

  Jack exchanged a look with Miranda. He was just as happy to stand back and let her get the people in the room to talk, but she could see he was about to take over again before anyone got suspicious.

  “All right,” he said. “Mrs. Wells, please stay here with your son. Miranda, if you’ll come with me?”

  As they left the room together, Miranda looked back to see Natasha sitting on the couch, very close to Paul, holding his hands in hers. If anything, she thought to herself, she should be saving Paul from his mother.

  Jack stopped them down the hallway, when they were away from everyone. “All right, so spill. What do you know?”

  Putting her hands on his chest she reached up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I know that I love you, and that I don’t say that enough.”

  “Aw. That’s nice, but what brought that on?”

  “Seeing two murders in as many days, is what.” Miranda laid her head down on his shoulder. “And, seeing this dysfunctional family and all the grief they’ve brought down on themselves. I don’t want us to ever be like that.’

  “Okay,” he agreed brightly, kissing the top of her head, “I promise never to crack you over the head with a cricket bat.”

  “Very funny. Jack, I’m trying to be serious.”

  “So was I.”

  Miranda rolled her eyes and laughed softly at him. “Fine, but you know I’m right.”

  “You are always right, my darling girlfriend, and that’s why I need you to tell me what you think happened to Leah Wells.”

  “I will, but first tell me if you got anything from talking to Natasha.”

  “Not a thing we didn’t already know,” he admitted sourly. “You got more out of her in the five minutes we were standing in that room than I did with all of my years of police interrogation techniques. The woman is a stone.”

  “Yes, she is. She invited Maisie here. She hated her, and Leah, no matter what she might like anyone to believe. No one can account for her whereabouts during either murder.”

  “Sounds like a good arrest to me,” Jack said. “However, we have Ashton Perry to consider. He also hated both women, and no one can account for his whereabouts during the murders.”

  “Except,” Miranda added, “I saw him with Leah right before she was killed. He confirmed they got into an argument right before, also. He has a cut on his cheek that he admits is from her rings.”

  “So, they could have been arguing and he killed her?” Jack nodded thoughtfully. “Two good suspects. Then there’s Paul…”

  “I don’t think he did this,” Miranda told him. “I mean, he might have had motive. Maisie ruined him financially, and Leah was running his life the same way his mother does. But, after talking with him, I feel like his grief at losing them both is real. Something else he said makes me think I’m right, too.”

  “Oh? What was that?”

  “He said that if his mother was going to kill Maisie, he thinks she would have killed her back when the divorce was happening. That’s when everyone was most angry at Maisie, after all. So, if we apply that to Paul, why wouldn’t he have killed Maisie back then if he wanted to?”

  “Good question. All right. So, you think it’s down to Ashton, then.”

  “I’m not sure. We can’t rule Natasha out just yet.”

  Jack pursed his lips in thought. “So, how do we prove which one it is?”

  “I think I know how, actually.” Miranda gave him a quick hug before stepping back. “I need to talk to one more person before I know for certain. Can you give me some privacy for about fifteen minutes and then have everyone together in the sitting room?”

  “Sure thing. Where’s Ashton, by the way?”

  “He made an excuse of going to the bathroom so I could talk to Paul privately. He should be back any time now.”

  “Hmm. Does that make him more or less of a suspect?”

  Miranda nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking. He could very well have agreed to it just to make himself look innocent. I’d say fifty-fifty at this point. So. You’ll have everyone there in the sitting room?”

  “If it means wrapping this case up tonight instead of letting it drag on, I’m game. Remember when I said we were all bored at the police station and I wish something would happen?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well,” he shrugged, “I take it all back. I’d rather go back to being bored.”

  “Hmm. You and I could take a vacation, you know. Once this is done and over and there’s justice for Maisie and Leah, we could go away together. Just the two of us.”

  “That sounds fantastic, but isn’t Moonlight Bay supposed to be a vacation of sorts for you already, city girl?”

  “Well, it was. I suppose it doesn’t feel that way anymore.”

  He picked up on what she meant right away. “You’re worried about why that tour boat captain wants to talk about your aunt, aren’t you?”

  Josh Bates. Yes, he was on her mind again. She’d almost managed to forget about him until this moment in the thrill of solving another murder mystery.

  “I am worried about him, yes. I know it sounds silly, but I can’t shake the feeling that whatever he kno
ws or whatever he has to say will change things for me. Not in the good way, either.”

  “All right then,” he agreed with a smile. “You and me are going to get away just as soon as we can. Maybe down to Tasmania, where there won’t be anyone to recognize either one of us, and no ghosts to speak of.”

  “Except Kyle,” she reminded him.

  “Er, right. Is he staying around, then?”

  She started to tell him yes, of course Kyle was staying, but then she realized that she didn’t actually know if he was or not. In fact, he didn’t seem to know. For someone who was supposed to be an all-knowing spirit guide, what he knew was just about nothing.

  “I’ll have to get back to you on that, I guess.”

  “Fair enough,” he told her. “So, fifteen minutes”

  At the other end of the hall, as if he’d heard them talking about him, Kyle appeared, floating and bluish and just as amazingly goofy as Miranda remembered him being in life. In death he had taken on a certain calm that was new, and that she liked to see on him. He still joked with her, still made offhand comments that only someone like Kyle Hunter could get away with, but his personality was tempered now with something that resembled—dare she say it—wisdom.

  “Yes,” Miranda answered Jack’s question. “Fifteen minutes. I have someone else to talk to first.”

  Chapter 15

  “Your boyfriend looks cute when he’s making goo-goo eyes at you,” Kyle teased.

  Miranda looked back up the hall to where Jack was walking away. She really liked watching him walk away. “You’re just jealous because he doesn’t make those eyes at you.”

  “Well, he can’t see me, so I think it’s only fair to say that he’d be taken in by my winning smile if he could.”

  “Very funny. Thanks for keeping Maisie out of the sitting room while I talked to Paul. I think we can wrap this whole mystery up with a few more questions. I just need to talk to her now. Um. Where’d you leave her?”

  “She’s in the bathroom.”

  “The bathroom!” Miranda nearly shouted out loud. “You mean, the same place that Ashton went to? That bathroom?”

  “Relax, he never even knew we were there.” Kyle shrugged. “Maisie yelled at him, and he didn’t hear a word of it. I think it did her some good, though. Really let her get out some repressed emotions. Things like that do a dead person a lot of good.”

  “Well, that’s great. So what did Ashton have to say for himself? Did he talk to his reflection or anything?”

  Kyle shook his head, and Miranda realized that was too much to hope for. “He just stood there, and washed his face, and then cried. I swear, Miranda, what is it with the men in this house and crying? Aren’t there any real men anymore?”

  “Oh, sure,” she replied, “because I’ve never seen you cry over a sad movie and a bucket of popcorn.”

  His translucent face managed to look embarrassed as he carefully avoided meeting her eyes. “I may have enjoyed Bridges of Madison County a bit more than most, but that’s because I’m more sensitive than most men.”

  “You always were. All right. I think it’s time for me to go powder my nose.”

  “What?” He looked at her, perplexed at the old-timey euphemism. “Your nose looks fine. Why would you want to… oh. You mean you need to use the washroom.”

  “Nothing gets by you.”

  They went the back way around the house, a route that Kyle promised her would keep them from running into any of the officers searching the house. For once, he was right, and Miranda figured he might just be fitting into this spirit guide thing after all.

  The bathroom was very opulent, all gleaming tile and way too much chrome. Maisie was waiting for them, perched on the edge of the sink as if she was really sitting there.

  “Maisie, thank you.” Miranda smiled at the departed woman. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

  “I got to take all of my frustrations out on that horrible Ashton,” she preened, obviously proud of herself. “I never could do that in life. Hey, you know what? I think Ashton killed me. I think he hated me that much, don’t you?”

  “Let’s find out,” Miranda told her. She didn’t really want to get into the whole love quadrangle that had been existing under this roof. “Listen, I need to ask you some questions. Just a few more, and then I think this whole mystery is going to unravel itself.”

  “There really isn’t anything else I can tell you.” Maisie said defensively.

  “Oh, but there certainly is. I just spent some time talking to Paul. He said a few things that lead me to think... Look, I need you to be absolutely truthful with me or we will never get to the bottom of things. I think this might be how you move on, Maisie. I think the thing that’s keeping you here is the uncertainty of why you died.”

  “That’s pretty typical,” Kyle added. “Most ghosts are only here because they want to know what happened to them.”

  “Oh?” Maisie actually looked hopeful. “Is that the way it was with you? Before you came back to do this spiritual director thing?”

  He smiled a bemused little grin. “It’s ‘spirit guide’ actually. And, um, no… I hung around for a little while after we found the man who killed me. It’s, um, complicated.”

  “Well, then what good will it do me to find out who killed me?”

  Miranda looked at her with sympathy. “Don’t you want to know? Don’t you need to know?”

  After a long moment, Maisie finally nodded her head. “Yes. I do.”

  “Okay. Okay, good. Let’s start from the beginning. We already know that you set Paul up for his money. You lied about him in court. Even you’ve been able to admit most of that to yourself.”

  “I can’t believe I was that horrible to him. I remember loving him. I remember caring about him…”

  “Yes. I know. In your own way, I think you did. Just like in his own way, I think Paul loved you even after what you did. We all tell ourselves our own lies but I’m not worried about the divorce right now. I want to go back further. To the very beginning for you and Paul. Back to the time before you were married to Paul Wells. When you first met him.”

  “Oh,” Maisie said as she closed her eyes. “I see what you mean. When we met at the accounting firm?”

  “That’s it exactly. Tell me about meeting Paul.”

  “I don’t want to. This is supposed to be about me, remember? I’m dead, and I need to pass over and this is supposed to be about me.” She pouted her lips. “I want to move on. I want this to be over, Miranda.”

  Kyle floated closer to her, pointing his finger sharply. “That’s what your problem is, Maisie. All this time we’ve been trying to solve your murder and you’ve been holding out, and blaming everyone else when you know part of this is your own responsibility.”

  “I died! I was murdered, and you want to make that my fault?”

  “Not your fault,” Miranda pointed out. “We’re only saying that the events that led to your death were partly of your own making. You can see that, can’t you?”

  “Once you grasp that,” Kyle said to her, “you’ll understand everything much more clearly. Just trust us, Maisie. We’re trying to help you.”

  “I suppose so,” Maisie said, and sighed. “I’m sorry. I suppose you’re right. I’ve been… so very selfish in my life.”

  “And I think you’re afraid to admit it,” Kyle said gently. “Oh. Maybe that’s what your issue is. For some people, the thing that keeps them from passing over isn’t the act of murder at all. It’s something else. Miranda, this is interesting. Was this what you were getting at?”

  “Well, I wasn’t sure. I do think my questions will put the final clue to this mystery in our hands, but now I think you’re right, too. I think there’s something Maisie needs to work through before she leaves this plane of existence. Okay. So let’s get back to the question. Maisie, can you tell us about meeting Paul at the accounting firm?”

  Reluctantly, she began talking. “Well, I’d heard about Paul long befo
re I’d ever met him. Back then I was working one temp job after another. No future. No prospects. Then one day my employment agency told me that I’d been requested at the accounting firm that handled the accounts for the Wells family.”

  “Just like that?” Miranda asked.

  “Sure. It happens like that sometimes. You’re just assigned somewhere. Well, I didn’t think anything of it. I was placed in the secretarial pool, and it wasn’t until I’d been working there for weeks that I even met Paul. Then I put his name to the accounts for his family and I realized, hey, here’s a good looking guy with more money than I would ever see in my own lifetime. I mean, I’d been poor all my life. Dirt poor. I thought to myself, here’s my chance. If I could get my hands on what he had…”

  “Literally, and figuratively,” Kyle said, his humor falling flat.

  Miranda wondered what life might be like for somebody who had grown up as Maisie had. Miranda had always been secure, even if she hadn’t been particularly well off, but she’d had options and education and the knowledge that there was always a place for her at Ragged Rest if she truly fell down on her luck.

  Maisie Fraser had never had anything as comforting as that in her life, apparently. No wonder she had chosen to live by her wits in the end.

  “I think that was the moment,” her ghost said now. “That was when I decided I would take what I wanted. I would take it from this man who seemed so desperate for love that he couldn’t even recognize that I was using him to get at his wealth. I wasn’t going to work all those hours for next to nothing and live in a rundown apartment with nothing to look forward to. No. I was going to take what I wanted.”

  “So, you decided to pick the richest man that your firm worked for, and make him your husband.” Kyle seemed very disappointed. The way that Maisie had forced her love on Paul had insulted him, personally.

  “Yes,” Maisie said defensively. “It was his mother’s idea, actually.”

  “His mother!” Miranda couldn’t hide her surprise.

  “Yes. They came into the firm one day, together, and she saw how I was looking at him. She took me aside and suggested that I pursue him. You know, I really did like him in the beginning. He was handsome at any rate, and I thought at the time I could live out my life with his family in luxury and never have to work again.”