He returned as good as he got. Smiling, and gesturing, and touching her back lightly.
They floated toward me. She paused near my bench, and expertly drew his attention away from me, indicating something behind her. He stood with his back to me.
“These are our best properties,” she said, softening her voice to an almost angelic quality. I wanted to laugh at the expert way she’d avoided the word ‘plot,’ instead making it sound as if they were discussing prime real estate. “If you will notice the view?” She touched his bicep through the fabric of his suit. His eyes followed the movement, rather than seeing the plot location. When her hand dropped, he removed the coat, and slung it over his shoulder. A little too hot, huh?
Their dance continued for a while longer, as she described all the reasons he should purchase here instead of at the old cemetery hidden toward the mountains. He nodded, and smiled, and made little comments about the beauty of this part of the garden.
“I’ll leave you, then,” she said.
He gave an exaggerated pout. “Must you?”
“Just for a few moments.” She gestured back up the path, toward the funeral home. I will begin your paperwork, and when I’m ready, I will come back for you.”
He smiled, said something I didn’t catch, and actually bowed over her hand.
He remained in front of me, hogging the view. I realized my disguise was too perfect. Apparently, I had become invisible. He clasped his hands behind his back, and turned about, spying the bench upon which I sat, book in one hand, and umbrella overhead as a sunshade.
He began to walk past. “Please,” I said. “Sit. She may be awhile.” He smiled, his vision turned inward.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, still unaware of my identity. That wouldn’t last long.
“I’m truly sorry about your wife,” I said. “Are you planning the ceremony for later this week?” Since it was now Thursday morning, that would mean Friday, or Saturday. That would be speedy.
“Miss Murphy!” He leaped to his feet, then yanked the umbrella from my hand. “A disguise?”
I shook my head with pretend surprise. “Of course not. I’m here for… a friend.”
“Certainly, you are,” he taunted. “And that would be…?” He raised his eyebrows, his eyelids drooping lazily, and he turned up the corners of his mouth in a sardonic sneer.
I had to take control of the interview. “You went to T or C with Jeanine Pryor,” I said bluntly.
“I don’t deny it,” he said. But I caught a glimmer of surprise in his eyes.
“But, what about your wife? What did she think?”
“We had an open relationship. She was fully aware of my… dalliances… as I was of hers. In fact,” he grinned wickedly. “She approved, and even joined in.”
I leaned away from him as he leaned in. “You’re swingers?”
“I am. She was.” He didn’t appear the least bit distraught at the loss of his wife. He reached toward me, and took a lock of my hair between his fingers. He rolled it lightly, let it drop, then ran a finger along my cheekbone. Surely, he toyed with me, trying to elicit some emotion. Fear, maybe?
The man was a sexual deviant. But did that make him a murderer? Did he know that Jennifer was Tammy Lynn’s child? Surely he knew her age. “I also know that you’ve been having an affair with a girl in town.”
“I’ve had plenty. What law am I breaking?”
“You know Jennifer Garfield?”
His face went blank. “I can’t say that I do.”
“You do. And you know how old she is, don’t you? Sixteen. That’s statutory rape.”
“She said she’s eighteen.” His lip curled, and his eyes grew hard.
“She’s also your wife’s kid.”
He laughed, tipping his head back. When he looked at me again, his features were tight. The emotion schooled out. I was certain he knew.
“You have no alibi for the night your wife was killed,” I blurted.
“Sure, I do. I was enjoying a couple’s massage at Spa Elegante in T or C.”
“You left early,” I said, triumphant.
His eyes narrowed ominously. “Where did you hear that?”
“From Jeanine.” Had I gone too far? I couldn’t stop myself from taking it one step further. “What if I told you that I can prove you killed your wife?” I left out the ‘may have.’
He jerked back like I had hit him. “Not here,” I said quickly, realizing the harm I may have inadvertently put myself into. And then it struck me. If he was the murderer, what better way to draw him out than to set a trap?
“If you want to see what I have—I will be at Lovers’ Lane. Tonight. At midnight.”
❃ ❃ ❃
Even the best laid plan can go terribly wrong, and this could barely be called a plan. Mother called me a fool, and the ladies of the Solitaire Club tsk’d endlessly. “We have to fix it,” Mother said. “You must call the sheriff.”
Everybody agreed, so I did. My gut clenched, butterflies threatening to escape out my mouth. I swallowed as he answered.
“I’ve done something rather dumb,” I said, when I got him on the phone.
“What’s that, Raymond?” He sounded distant. He was still mad.
“I’m sorry. Are you at lunch? I can call you later.”
“It’s all right,” he said, chewing. “I’ve got a late lunch today.”
I heard laughter in the background. A giggle? “Is that a…” I began. “Are you…” I couldn’t finish.
“Hurry up, Lonnie,” said a pretty, tinkly voice. A giggling, sexy voice. He wasn’t alone. He might not be married, but that didn’t mean he was single.
I hung up.
Bile filled my mouth, and I covered my lips with my fingers as I rushed to the bathroom. Tears pricked my eyes. I’d let him down. No, I’d let myself down. I had well and truly blown it with my escapade at the school.
❃ ❃ ❃
I went outside. I couldn’t talk to the ladies just then. I couldn’t let them see the pain Lonnie gave me. Standing on the step, I reached behind my neck and untied the leather string. I’d had the necklace most of my life. It had been my lucky charm, reminding me of the time when my family was whole. When I was happy.
It struck me then, that I hadn’t been happy since I left here all those years ago. I gazed at the Jeep, parked just outside the door. My father had left it, and I’d taken it. But, was it any luckier for me than it had been for him? He’d called it that. His lucky charm. I looked again at the arrowhead that I’d called my luck. Then, I looked at the afternoon sky. Not a cloud in sight, though they were forecast for the evening, with a twenty-five percent chance of rain. I couldn’t bring myself to care. I needed to escape.
I walked. The plaza beckoned. But first, I placed the necklace on the seat of the Jeep.
❃ ❃ ❃
I had wanted to find my home here. With Lonnie. I realized that as I walked around the plaza perimeter. But, I’d made a muddle of things. I paused in front of my two sibling’s western wear store. Was Emma a murderer? Was she not? She’d acted strange ever since I’d arrived. And, except for the time she spoke openly to me in the gazebo, she’d spent very little time with me. True, I hadn’t sought her out either.
I saw a motion in the store, and headed over. Not Earl this time, I realized. Just Emma. I thought quickly, recklessly.
“Sister,” I said the single word as I pushed open the door. She looked at me curiously.
“I’ve decided to leave,” I said. “I tried, but I don’t think I can stay here.”
She looked crestfallen, and dropped the broom she’d been pushing. It clattered to the ground. “Why? Aren’t you happy here?”
“With you guys, sure. For a while. But, can’t you feel it? We’re not the same—not any more. If Dad hadn’t taken me away… maybe. But he did, and our lives are so different.” I spread my arms wide, embracing the store with my hands. “This is your world,” I said. “Not mine.”
I c
ould feel tears prick the corners of my eyes. I squeezed them shut. When I had my emotions under control, I opened them again. She hadn’t moved, but stood still. Looking at me. I took a deep breath, and continued the plan I’d set in motion earlier that afternoon, when I’d spoken with Doctor Wilson in the cemetery.
“What would you say if I told you that there is proof that you wanted to kill Tammy Lynn?”
“No.” She breathed the single word. So low I could barely catch it over the rattle of the swamp cooler. “What is it?”
“I don’t have it with me. Not here. And, I’m not going to use it against you. But, if you want to see what I’ve got, you need to come up to Lover’s Lane. Tonight at midnight.”
❃ ❃ ❃
Two down, one to go. I knew where to find Patsy. She wasn’t there when I came in. I walked purposely toward the bar and leaned against the shiny brass rail. Had I just bellied up? If I cared, I might have laughed. But I didn’t, so I ordered a beer, paid, and headed for Patsy’s table.
She didn’t show up for maybe an hour. I’d left my cell phone at Mother’s, so I relied on a Mexican beer clock over the bar—one I didn’t recognize—not one of the TV brands. Judging by the age of the sign, it might not be in existence anymore. And the clock might not work, either.
Patsy didn’t darken the door until half past four. I’d already had two beers. She didn’t see me at first. She waved at the barkeep, who nodded, and immediately poured a draft. Code, from years of patronage. I’d hoped to have that, too. Years of patronage. But, ah, well. The Serengeti beckoned.
She paused midway across the floor as her eyes adjusted. She almost turned around when she spied me, but she didn’t. She strode toward me and sat across from me, her lips a tight, straight line.
“I’m not staying,” I said. I barked a laugh. “You’ve got the place to yourself. I only wanted to issue you an invitation.”
“To what? A bon voyage party?” She bit the words nastily.
“Something like that.” I slugged down the remnants of my beer. “I’ve got some evidence you might want to see. Says you wanted to see Tammy Lynn dead. Whether you acted on it, well, that’s another story. If you want it, I can get it for you.”
“Where?”
“Lover’s Lane. Tonight. Midnight.”
❃ ❃ ❃
The trap was set.
Now to see who showed up.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I couldn’t see Lonnie, and I couldn’t go back to Mother’s. I hurt too much inside. I should have guessed that he had a girlfriend. A proper one. Not like me. I was just a girl from his childhood. Someone passing through. Unstable. I barked a cynical laugh. There is a local rent-a-rust-bucket in Angel’s Rest. I recalled seeing it from the temporary exhilaration of Jeep ownership. It’s over on the main drag. When I left Patsy, open mouthed with shock, I hoofed it over there.
“You’re lucky,” the pimple-faced kid at the counter said. “We close early on Thursday.” He pointed to the sign on the wall above him. Closed Sunday. Eight to six Monday through Friday. Handwritten below, it said Four-thirty on Thursday. He was right, I’d barely made it in the door. The clock above the sign said four-fifteen. He clearly couldn’t read. Or else he couldn’t read a clock. I’d noticed it was a common problem in Angel’s Rest. Places closed fifteen minutes early with regularity.
I paid him forty-five bucks, in cash, for one night’s auto use. I got a to-go order at the local drive-thru, and headed out to Lover’s Lane seven hours early. Nobody could call me late. The problem was, I had no preparations to make. It was Thursday, so, unlikely that any kids would show up to park and make out. Tears threatened as I remembered the last time I’d been here. With Mother and with Lonnie. I chose a picnic table and ate my dinner, and sipped my drink, and watched the sun go down. Not much later, I heard a car, but it went on by. At eleven, the coyotes began to howl. I climbed onto the table and watched the moonlight glint across the river as it moved endlessly. Then, near what I guessed was midnight, I heard another car. The trap was sprung.
I didn’t hide. I figured, if the murderer wanted the evidence, he, or she, would have to come and get it. Just like earlier, nobody could be certain I’d really brought it with me. And, in some ways, I didn’t care what happened to me. I was deep in the throes of romantic misery. I remained sitting atop the table, my back to the new arrival.
Tires crunched on the ever present desert gravel. I didn’t turn around. Let the killer see my supreme confidence. The car rolled into the wide clearing, and stopped some distance away.
Footsteps came close, crunching lighter than the tires. They stopped behind me. “Raymond?”
My heart sank. My sister sat on the table next to me.
“Emma.”
We sat quietly for a minute. “Tell me about it,” I finally said.
“I drove Tammy Lynn’s car.” She couldn’t look at me, but kept her gaze firmly on the dark motion of the river.
“Hmm?” She had me confused, and then I realized she was starting her story back when Tonya got killed.
“I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t old enough to drive. But Tammy Lynn and Patsy were both pretty drunk. Patsy thought she could drive, but she couldn’t even figure out how to put in the key. So, I did. Tonya had come up the trail.” She pointed to the left and I could just see a thinness in the trees.
“Her head was bleeding. The back of her hair was crusty with it. She wanted a ride home. Said that she hated Joe.. and everyone.”
I didn’t interrupt, just listened quietly. I wanted to look at her, see the expression on her face as she told her story, but it was too dark. I hadn’t thought of that when I set a midnight appointment.
“Tonya got in the back with Tammy Lynn. She was acting kinda weird, like she was afraid of her, or something. But then she just passed out.” She sobbed, and I put my hand over hers. “We weren’t very far down the road when Tammy Lynn started screaming. I mean really screaming!”
“Why?” I broke my silent agreement with myself to hear her through. No questions asked.
“Tonya. She was dead. That’s what we thought, anyway. And Patsy had me stop down by the picnic grounds. So I did. I shouldn’t have listened. If they were too drunk to drive, then they were too drunk for anything!”
“Oh, my God,” I said, as I suddenly understood. “You dumped her in the river?”
“Well, not me. I couldn’t get out of the car. I was too freaked out. But Tammy Lynn and Patsy did. They dragged her over to the water. To the same place where they found Tammy Lynn.” She moaned. “Oh my God, oh my God.”
“It’s okay, Sis,” I said. “You didn’t know.” I wrapped my arms around my little sister and let her cry. I hadn’t been here for her. If Dad hadn’t taken me away, I would have been. And then none of this would have happened. She must have killed Tammy Lynn in revenge—all these years later, the memories spurred by the release of Anthony Sanders from prison.
❃ ❃ ❃
“Well, isn’t this a cozy scene.” A masculine voice broke the silence around us. My sister’s sobs ceased, and I let my arms go from around her. We both whirled about to face him.
“Doctor Wilson?” I’m certain my voice came off perplexed.
“You have something for me?” He stopped only feet away.
“I… I…” How to answer? Until that second, I’d thought my sister was the murderer. I looked from her to him, and back again.
“The proof,” he said. “I want it. Now.”
And then it struck me. While my sister had come out here to confess to her part in the collective murder of Tonya Romero—who apparently had not been dead, but asleep, or passed out—Doctor Wilson was here about Tammy Lynn.
“You’ll get it,” I said. “But first, I want to know why you did it.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’re in any position to bargain.”
“I think I am,” I said. “I’ve hidden your precious ‘proof.’ You’ll get it after you answer my questions.”
>
“Yeah! What she said!” Emma wrapped her arm through mine and faced him down.
He sighed. Maybe two of us was too many? “I planned to get rid of Tammy Lynn for a long time. Jeanine was the perfect alibi, or so I thought. We had different rooms, you know. I figured she would think I stayed in my room after the couples massage. But that argument ruined everything.”
I laughed, a harsh sound even to my ears. “She said you left her there, and she had to take a bus home. That’s what ruined your alibi. Not her.”
“Actually,” he said. “I went back. But, she’d already left.”
“What did you argue about, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Now it was his time to bark a laugh. “Our future together. She actually thought I would leave Tammy Lynn to marry her! What I wanted was my freedom.”
“For all the womanizing you do, you don’t know much about women.”
❃ ❃ ❃
Gravel crunched and we all spun toward the newcomer. “Actually, he knows nothing about women, except how to… well… you know.” Patsy entered the clearing. Where in the heck did they leave their cars? I hadn’t heard a thing as they drove up! And now we were confronted by two people, both of whom were probably killers. Or certainly thought there was enough evidence out there that might get them convicted as one.
“What’s your plan?” Emma shook my arm, and whispered in my ear.
“Plan?”
“Really? You don’t have one?”
I didn’t. Suddenly, I realized I hadn’t planned on coming out of here alive. Now, I had to protect my sister, and I needed a plan.
Patsy pointed a gun our direction. Crud.
“What’s with that frog, Warren?” The moon broke through clouds and I could see the anger on her face.
It's Marple, Dear Page 20