Malice In Wonderland (Book 6)

by Liliana Hart

  “Let’s walk it out. The man is hosting a party with a couple hundred guests. He’s got big plans for the evening that somehow involve each of his exes. He moves to his private suite, expecting to conduct his meetings there. Seems a little presumptuous to be in the bedroom instead of the office, but from what I can tell, Buck liked to play with his prey before he cut them off at the knees.

  “For whatever reason, he sits on the edge of the bed. Maybe he got into an argument and got winded. He’s still a seventy-six-year old man. He’s wearing his sandals because he’s been back and forth between his suite of rooms and the patio and pool area. If he’s in distress, the last thing you’re thinking of is taking your shoes off. One of them is lined up neatly next to the bed, but the other got kicked, either by Buck as he was struggling, or by someone else.”

  “And the someone else would’ve had to have been up close and personal,” Agatha said.

  “I didn’t see any ligature marks or bruising around the neck,” Hank said.

  “No,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I think I need a break.”

  “Good idea,” Hank said, looking at his watch. “Remember how I said we needed to take a road trip?”

  “I thought that was for more churros,” Agatha said.

  “No, I found something interesting while going through all the reports. You should be a P.I. You have a scary amount of access into people’s lives.”

  She smiled and shrugged. “You pay the subscription fees, you can have access to almost anything.”

  “As a cop, that’s terrifying. But anyway, I discovered that Buck’s sister is also his attorney. I sent her an email with my credentials and told her I had doubts to the competence of the detectives working her brother’s case. I asked if she’d mind if we talked to her.”

  “Wow,” Agatha said, brows raising. “I never would’ve had the guts to cold call someone like that, especially the victim’s sister.”

  “The worst she can do is say no,” he said.

  “I’m assuming you need to stop by your house and change clothes?” she asked.

  “Why would you assume that?”

  Agatha’s mouth pressed in a thin line, but she wasn’t quite sure how to answer tactfully.

  “Just kidding,” he said. “Of course I’m going to change. I suggest you do the same.”

  “I won’t judge your retirement clothes if you won’t judge my work clothes,” she said.

  “Speaking of work clothes,” he said. “I noticed you’ve added a piece of jewelry to your ensemble. I never took you for the rubber bracelet kind of woman. I’ve been trying to subtly read what it says all day, but I haven’t been able to manage it.”

  Agatha looked down at her wrist to the red rubber bracelet that still sat there. “Oh,” she said. “I completely forgot I was wearing it.”

  She started to take it off, but then she thought of something. “Hank. These bracelets were given to all the invited guests. They were given to us at a checkpoint gate about half a mile from the main driveway. I was Heather’s plus one, and she had to give my name with the RSVP weeks ago.

  “After they gave us the bracelets, they directed us to a parking area, and then we had to scan our bracelets on some kind of electric turn style. It was kind of like going to Disney World.

  As soon as we scanned the bracelets our names came up. This is how we can get a guest list.”

  “So, what does it say?” he asked.

  “It says, “Have a Buckin’ Good Time.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Are we there yet?” Agatha asked with a cheeky grin.

  He’d never seen so many twenty-file mile an hour speed zones. They’d been in the same neighborhood for what felt like a hundred years.

  “Good Lord,” he said as he had to slow down to a crawl to drive over a speed hump. “I’ve never seen a neighborhood so concerned with speeders. You could get out of the car and run to her house before I get there.”

  “I’ve already considered that option,” Agatha said. “I had to go to the bathroom three speed humps ago.”

  He grunted and kept driving.

  “Did you read that article about Heather in the paper?” she asked.

  “The one showing the world your skivvies?”

  “Yes,” she said dryly. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “Then, no. I didn’t read it. I was too distracted by the picture.”

  “Well, whoever that dumb reporter was interviewed Buck’s poor, grieving widow. You’d think she was working the case with as much speculation as she cast on Heather. As far as she’s concerned, Heather is guilty as sin and she doesn’t care if they’re able to prove it with actual evidence.”

  “She must’ve gone to detective school with Ritzo and Kraken,” Hank said.

  “Candy said that Heather has motive because she’s supposed to inherit a ton of money when Buck dies, and that Buck was going to change his will. She said Heather must’ve found out about it and that’s why she killed him.”

  Hank whistled. “That certainly doesn’t sound like good news for the home team. If Candy can make Heather the bad guy, it won’t matter if she’s innocent. The entire city will convict her of murder.”

  “Then step on it,” she said. “I don’t care if you’ve got to drive on people’s lawns to get around these things. Buck’s sister is older than he is. She could die before we get there.”

  Hank chuckled and noticed the farther they drove through the neighborhood the nicer the houses. The lawns took up half a block, and then the full block, and the houses were like castles.

  “Holy cow,” Hank said. “No wonder they’ve got all those speed humps. They don’t want anyone coming back here. What kind of people live in houses like these?”

  “Rich people,” Agatha said. “You met a bunch of them last night.”

  Hank grunted. “That’s her house at the end of the road with the gate facing us.”

  “It feels like we’re being watched,” she said. “This place gives me the creeps.”

  “We are being watched. I’ve seen cameras in trees every twenty-five feet or so, and there are cameras at every gate we drive past.

  Hank pulled up to the ornate iron gate and rolled down his window so he could press the call button.

  “May I help you,” a cultured voice said.

  “Hank Davidson to see Mrs. Sanderson. She’s expecting me.”

  “Please drive through. You may park your car under the covered area.”

  Hank rolled up the window and Agatha waggled her eyebrows. “Fancy. I wonder if he wears a tuxedo and carries around a silver tray.”

  “Why would he carry around a silver tray?” Hank asked.

  “I don’t know. It just seems like something a butler should carry.”

  The massive gate slid open and Hank drove through. There were beautiful trees and flower beds artfully displayed in the yard, a white sweetheart swing that hung from a tree, and a pair of cannons.

  “The cannons are an interesting touch,” Agatha said. “She probably used them during the Civil War to protect her property.”

  Hank’s shoulders shook with laughter. Agatha could always make him laugh.

  The house finally came into view and they weren’t disappointed. It was just…big. Hank had no idea what style it was, and he didn’t particularly care, but it screamed money more ostentatiously than Buck’s ranch.

  “No accounting for taste I guess,” Agatha said.

  Hank smiled and scanned the property as he looked for the covered parking area. The driveway in front of the house was a huge semi-circle, but the driveway continued on the opposite side and led around to the side of the house. That’s when Hank saw the covered parking area.

  “I guess she didn’t want my car to be seen from the street,” Hank said. He backed into the parking spot and left the car running and in drive for the time being.

  “It’s a BMW,” Agatha said. “Why wouldn’t she want that to be seen?”

  “Maybe because i
t’s not a Bentley. I have a feeling a BMW would be slumming for Mrs. Sanderson.”

  Leaving the car in drive was a common practice that cops learned on the job. Just in case they had to escape an ambush or chase a fleeing suspect.

  Hank noticed a curtain move next to the side door. Then something out of his periphery had him looking at the other end of the house, where another curtain moved.

  “Keep an eye on that last window in the corner of the house,” Hank said.

  “They’re watching us,” she said. “I saw two curtains move. You think this is a trap?”

  “Not sure, but she might just be taking precautions because she thinks her brother was murdered.”

  “Do you know if she lives with anyone but the butler?”

  “I was under the impression she lived alone, so I can’t be sure who else is in there besides the two of them.”

  The door on the side of the house was nice enough to be on the front of the house, and it finally opened to reveal a scarecrow of a man with a sharp pointed nose and thinning silver hair. He was dressed in black trousers, a black vest, and a white, long sleeve button-down shirt.

  “Man, I can’t believe he’s not holding a silver tray,” Agatha said. “I’m so disappointed.”

  Hank put the car in park and turned off the ignition. And then he and Agatha got out of the car slowly.

  “Hello,” Hank said. “I’m Hank Davidson. I emailed Mrs. Sanderson about asking questions regarding the death of her brother.”

  He nodded once and said, “She’ll speak with you in the parlor. Come inside.”

  Hank kept vigilant watch as they approached the house, and he tapped his elbow against the pistol at his waist. It was a reassurance, just to make sure it was there if he needed it. He’d put on a light sport coat to conceal the weapon.

  “You have identification?” the butler asked.

  Technically, Hank was walking a very shaky line. He had a badge, but he was retired, though there were still privileges with that designation that regular civilians didn’t have. He took his commission out of his back pocket and showed it to the butler. Like most people, he glanced at it briefly and nodded.

  “I’m Stewart,” he said. “Mrs. Sanderson’s majordomo. If you need anything, you only have to alert me.”

  “We appreciate the time, Stewart,” Agatha said, giving him a smile. It didn’t make a dent in his rigid personality.

  They walked in to a spacious kitchen with rich woods and copper accents and followed Stewart through several rooms that looked overstuffed and unused until they finally reached what Hank assumed was the parlor.

  Hank blinked a couple of times when they walked into the room. It was impossibly white—carpet, walls, and furniture. Even the cat was white.

  Ava Sanderson sat in a chair that looked like a throne. She was formidable, even at an advanced age, though she didn’t look to be a woman in her eighties. She could’ve passed for twenty years younger. Her spine was straight as a rod, and her white hair was short and ruthlessly tamed behind her ears. She wore silver loungewear, and Hank wondered how many people relaxed at home on a Sunday wearing their pearls.

  “Detective,” Mrs. Sanderson said. “I didn’t realize you were bringing a guest.”

  “Agatha Harley,” Agatha said, nodding to her. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Hank was glad they’d both taken the time to dress a little nicer. Agatha wore black slacks and a sleeveless poppy colored shell, and she’d put her hair up in a loose bun on top of her head and a few strands of dark hair framed her face.

  “We want to offer our condolences on your brother’s passing,” Agatha said.

  Ava Sanderson seemed to deflate a little at the mention of her brother’s death. “I appreciate that,” she said softly. “It’s been hard to come to grips with.” Mrs. Sanderson turned to Stewart. “Bring iced tea into the living room. It’s too darned hot for anything else.”

  Hank’s brows raised. She’d relaxed her guard enough for her accent to slip through, and he wondered if there was more to her than there seemed.

  “Y’all might as well have a seat,” she said. “No reason standing there gawking at me. I wanted to check you out good and proper. A lady my age can’t be too careful. I did a Google search on you after you emailed Detective Davidson. You have a very impressive record.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “No need to ma’am me,” she said. “Just call me Ava. Well, come on.” She got up from the throne chair and went to a door on the opposite side of the room. “I hate this room, but all those rich yahoos seem to like it. We’ll be much more comfortable in here.”

  Ava opened the door to a small, comfortable room decorated in soft blues.

  “The front part of the house is for guests and parties,” she said. “Though I don’t give them as much as I used to. I have an image to maintain, and people in my circles are very unforgiving if you slip in the maintenance.”

  “It sounds like more trouble than it’s worth,” Hank said.

  She gave him a soft smile, and her eyes crinkled. “Quite right. Now sit down and Stewart will bring in some tea and cookies.”

  Hank and Agatha sat on an overstuffed sofa, and Ava took the matching chair next to him.

  “You’re an interesting woman, Ava,” Hank said.

  “Oh, you have to be if you get to be my age,” she said. “Did you know there were no other women in my graduating class when I was in law school? We started with sixty-three women. And I was the only one who made it to the end. I’m just as stubborn and hardheaded as Buck. And I know how to fight and get what I want. We get it honest. I still have clients. I think the day I stop working is the day I’ll die. It keeps me going. I’m twelve years older than my brother. Did you know that?”

  “I did,” he admitted.

  She nodded as if she were proud of him for checking her out. “Time’s slipping away from me. I should have gone before Buck, but he lived fast and hard. He was on borrowed time.”

  “How so?” Hank asked.

  “Buck tried his best to cling to his youth by marrying younger women. He’s always been a bit insecure. Even as a child. He was somewhat of a surprise for my parents. They thought they were through with having children when he came along. They were both in their forties, and I think Buck felt their exhaustion at having a young child at that point in their lives. People in their forties back then were considered ancient compared to today. My mother was actually quite embarrassed to find herself in the family way. Their feelings made Buck feel like he was unwanted, and I think that always stuck with him.”

  Stewart picked that moment to come back in with a cart that held three glasses of sweet tea and a plate of cookies that were so perfect they looked like they came out of a magazine. Everything was arranged on a silver tray.

  Hank looked over at Agatha and saw she was biting her lip to keep from grinning, and she waggled her eyebrows at him.

  “It’s sad,” Ava said. “Each of his wives was young, but none of them were the fountain of youth he was looking for. He would’ve been better off seeing his doctor once every few years instead of having another wedding.”

  “Did he have health problems?” Agatha asked, taking one of the cookies and a napkin.

  Hank took a cookie of his own and a glass of sweet tea, and he set it on the coaster on the little table next to him before biting into the cookie. His eyes closed in pure pleasure as the soft, butter cookie all but melted in his mouth.

  “He had heart issues the last five years, but nothing a little exercise and diet wouldn’t have fixed. But Buck was stubborn as a mule and wouldn’t listen to reason. He had an answer for everything. That’s why he always married a nurse. That way he always had someone to take care of him.”

  “Is that so?” Hank asked, catching Agatha’s eye so she’d remain silent. He could tell she wanted to say something about Heather. “All of his wives were nurses?”

  “Except for one.” She tapped a manicured nail against
her chin. “I can’t recall which one. It was one of them in the middle.”

  “Heather Cartwright?” Agatha asked.

  Ava snapped her fingers. “That’s the one.”

  “Why’d Buck marry her if she wasn’t a nurse?” Agatha asked.

  “It was impossible to know all the thoughts in Buck’s head. But honestly, I think he loved her. He always said she couldn’t help his heart, but she could help heal it.”

  “Did you know that the police suspect Heather in your brother’s death?” Hank asked. “It seems Candy was able to be very persuasive in her arguments to the detectives in charge of the case and to the media.”

  “I’ve tried to keep up,” she said, mouth pursing tightly. “And I’ve had dealings through the years with the detectives in charge. Morons. Spiteful, vengeful men who are a disgrace to the badge.”

  “We can agree on that a hundred percent,” Hank said.

  “I’ve kept my mouth shut for decades about Buck’s wives and the life he led,” she continued. “Honestly, I think he spent his life looking for the love he never had as a child. I won’t call those women gold diggers because he pursued them for specific reasons too. They all fit a profile. But he was different with Heather. She wasn’t just another woman. They tried to have children, but she wasn’t able. It was heartbreaking for both of them. I think that was the straw that broke their marriage, and believe me there were a lot of straws. But he didn’t stop loving her.”

  “What kind of straws?” Agatha asked.

  “Money meant nothing to Buck. He made some, lost some, and then made a bunch. He spent lavishly, and he took care of his friends or people closest to him. Including his ex-wives. He figured money was a good apology for being married to him. When each of his marriages ended, he kept them all on payroll on a quarterly retainer. It wasn’t a fortune when you look at his income, but it was enough for each of those women to live comfortably. Except for Heather. When they divorced, she refused the monthly settlement. She wanted a clean break. I think that hurt him more than anything.