“Allie, hey?” Ashley had been summoned by hearing her name. “What can I do to help?”
“I have a question, really,” I admitted. “The photos from last week’s dinner party. Do you have them? I’d really like to take a look. I mean, if you don’t mind…”
“Allie.” Ashley grimaced, showing her teeth and sucking a breath in through them. “I sent Mara a thumb drive with them a few days ago. I can’t really afford to keep all the photos around. There’s only so many SD cards, and the cloud ain’t cheap.”
“Oh, okay.”
“You could ask Mara to see them. I told her, if she wants to post any of them she needs a release. The end of the night didn’t exactly go as planned. I stopped taking photos once things happened with George. Honestly, I left before the cops arrived. I knew things were done, and I had an early shoot the next morning.”
“Right,” I said, already feeling defeated. There was no way Mara was letting me near those photos. “So, the cops never asked to see them?”
“No.” Ashley shook her head. “I was already gone. I didn’t even think to ask if they needed them. It seems like a pretty open and shut case if you ask me.” She looked back at the freezing bride and the bridesmaids, groom, and groomsmen shivering behind her. “I really must get back to these photos. The sun’s setting.”
“Yeah. Thanks anyway.”
The walk up to the house didn’t seem to take as long as the chilly walk I remembered—the one with Kate, Luke, and Marcus only a week prior. Probably because my mind was full of unanswered questions. What if those photos contained the key to solving the crime? What if Blake really was innocent?
The right thing to do was probably to call Javier. But since the events of the previous night, that felt like the wrong thing for the wrong reasons. I have Luke, if he’ll still have me, I reminded myself.
Things were in full swing inside the house. It was much like the night of the party, only instead of flappers, the guests were dressed in modern suits and lovely stylish dresses. Johnny was tending the bar. I found Mara across the room doing her own thing, bossing the servers around, tasting the hor d’oeuvres, and generally being the nasty person she was known to be.
Mom had found Gracie’s parents. She was chatting away with them. And luckily, she hadn’t found me yet. Because if I was going to do what I thought I wanted to do, I had to be quick and unseen.
I slipped down the hallway, past every guest, to where a photo booth was set up once more for the night, blocking the rest of the house and Mara’s office from purview. I took a deep breath and managed to get around it by crawling unladylike beneath the table of accessories.
This isn’t going to become a thing, I told myself. My heart was racing. I’d snuck into The Southern Depot to look for evidence. Trespassed was the right word. Today, I wasn’t trespassing. After all, I had an invitation to be here.
Plus, Mara’s office door was unlocked.
The pictures were easy to find. A manila envelope sat neatly on Mara’s pristinely clean desk. It was opened but with the thumb drive still inside it. I wondered if Mara had even looked through them herself. If she had, would she have deleted those that would prove to be evidence against her?
I moved the mouse on the computer to wake it. Crap. A password. I thought back to all the TV shows when the protagonist is up against such an obstacle. Then I typed in “password” and hoped for the best.
It didn’t work. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. What is it? My fingers moved the desktop’s keyboard in my frustration. And in doing so, a yellow sticky note peeked out. I lifted the keyboard to read Bentley9812.
I typed the password, and everything opened. Then I plugged in the thumb drive and began to peruse the photos. I smiled as I found a picture of Kate and Marcus. Then I found the one Ashley had taken of Luke and me. We actually made a nice-looking couple. My heart sank a little as I realized he hadn’t texted me all day. In the past few days, he’d at least shot me one or two asking how my day was going.
This isn’t the time to think about that.
I continued to look. As I clicked through them, I started to pay attention to the background. Maybe something would show up. Anything.
But nothing looked off…
Wait! Something jumped out at me.
It was like one of those “what’s different about these photos” from a Highlights magazine. I’d stopped on a picture that was similar to the one I had on my phone, just a snap of people lined up around the bar with the bartender, Johnny, making their drinks. Only something was off.
I reached for my phone and almost had a heart attack when it buzzed in my hand.
Hey, how are you today? I’m sorry you left early last night. Maybe we could have a makeup date next week? I’ve heard good things about that railroad place, The Southern Table.
This wasn’t the time or place to reply, but I felt compelled to do so.
Yeah. The Southern Depot. I’d love to. Can’t talk now. I’ll call you later. Oh, and my mom wants you to come to a family thing tomorrow around lunch time. You game?
Dots appeared in the messaging app, and my stomach filled with butterflies for the second time today.
Definitely game. Just let me know the time.
Will do. I’ll call you.
The brief bursts of text got me completely out of my focus. What had I been doing again? Oh, right, I looked at the photo. Then I pulled the similar one up on my phone. The one I’d shown Adam at the e-cigarette store. The one with Johnny in the background.
In mine, Johnny was handing a guest a drink. In this one, Johnny was also serving a guest a drink. The guest was Suzi. And in this photo, Johnny’s hands had gloves on them.
I remembered in Kate’s report about the use of nicotine with e-cigarettes, she’d mentioned the use of gloves. Filling the e-cigarettes with nicotine could be harmful. One could be poisoned even through the skin.
This was the photo I needed. This could help prove Blake’s innocence. But why had Johnny murdered George?
I didn’t have much time to question it. I heard noises in the hallway outside. Then the sound of Mara’s voice. “If everyone can make it to the ballroom, please, the dinner service starts in ten minutes.”
There was a shuffling of feet. And my phone buzzed again. This time, it was from Mom.
Where the heck are you?
21
I would just have to wait for everyone to make it into the ballroom. Then I could stroll in fashionably late without anyone seeing me crawl back under the accessory table by the photo booth.
I can do that. Just wait it out. For no reason, my heart began to race.
But I didn’t have to just wait. I at least had something to take care of. I snapped a photo of the photo, which felt odd, and sent it to Javier with a brief text explaining what I’d found. He immediately texted back.
I hope you found this from the safety of your own living room.
Not quite. I cringed sending him a text with the explanation. His response was even better than what I could’ve hoped for him to say. Just three capital letters.
OMW!
My heart slowed with this reassurance. This wasn’t going to be like last time. In only a few minutes, I’d be completely safe. The sound of footsteps and that of Mara’s office doorknob twisting sent that assurance crashing to the pit of my stomach.
The door opened a smidge but stopped short of opening fully. I heard Mara’s voice first.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Get back to the bar.”
“I will.” It was Johnny’s voice. “But I just need something first. We haven’t really seen each other in over a week. I’m dying here.”
“We haven’t for good reason,” Mara shot back. “And you’re not dying. The whole reason we haven’t, I’ll remind you, is because of a death.”
So, Mara and Johnny are in this together? That made sense.
“Come on,” Johnny pleaded. He seemed to push her through the threshold. Then he grabbed around her waist
, wrapped his mouth around hers, and closed the door behind them.
All this while, I attempted to hide under the desk. I wasn’t fast enough.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Johnny spat in my direction.
Mara looked at me in horror. “Allie, what do you think you’re doing in my office?”
Quick thinking wasn’t necessarily my forte. So, the first words I thought were the ones that blurted from my mouth. “I’m here catching George’s murderer.”
“And you think that’s me?” Mara asked in a huff.
“No, I think it’s both of you.” Mara looked confused. I made a guess, one I’d just put together. “George found out about your secret. You’re cheating on your husband. What would Doug think? It didn’t hurt that if you framed his son for the murder, you’d end up with everything—this whole estate.”
“That’s preposterous. George didn’t know—”
“He did,” Johnny confirmed. “He walked in on us a few weeks ago. I tried to reason with him. But the thing is, he didn’t care about the affair. No, he was just worried about the business. He thought Mara wasn’t fit to run the estate any longer. He said she couldn’t focus on business if she was willing to throw her life away for the likes of me. I showed him. Didn’t I?”
“Johnny?” Mara acted as if this was the first time she’d heard this.
He didn’t listen to her. Instead, he focused on me. “What did you find? I’m curious. There’s nothing linking me to George’s death. That nicotine was in Blake’s car. How am I supposed to know what happens to a drink after I make it?”
“I found a photo,” I told him. “One where you’re wearing gloves—gloves to protect you from the nicotine.”
He smirked. “It was a cold night. I had to run back and forth to the freezer. That’ll never hold up in court.”
“Johnny,” Mara said again, with more hurt in her tone, “did you really?” All she had to do was look at him to tell exactly what all three of us knew. He did murder George.
“You two have a lot to discuss.” I inched up from my position in the chair.
“Sit back down,” Johnny barked. He filled the space leading to the doorway with his body, blocking our only way out of the room.
A single tear rolled its way down Mara’s cheek, leaving a black streak of mascara.
“Perk up,” he told her. “Our secret can be a secret again.”
What? Johnny pulled a gun from the small of his back behind his coat. My head ping-ponged between the two of them. I was shocked, but was Mara? Surprised, maybe, but she wasn’t shocked.
“If I help you,” Mara said. “It’s over. My husband can’t hear a word of this. You understand?”
Johnny’s eyes narrowed as he thought this over. Then he nodded. “I understand.”
“Well, do you have a plan?” she asked him.
“Yeah. One’s forming.”
Now I was trapped in the office with two people who wanted to kill me. Things weren’t looking good.
Mara’s expression was blank. She was really willing to kill over her husband finding out about an affair?
I reached for my phone on her desk before Johnny stopped me. “Nuh-uh.” He shook the gun in the air. “Let’s take a walk.”
He poked his head out the office door and checked that the coast was clear. I could hear applause from the ballroom. A groomsman was giving a speech. Even if I yelled, it would be drowned out, I was sure.
Johnny grabbed my arm, hard and tight. His fingernails dug into my skin. Then he shoved me in the direction of a back door with an Exit sign over it.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Mara,” I pleaded. “Please help me. Don’t let him do this. You didn’t know about George. I can vouch for that.”
“She's not going to help you now,” he said.
“I’ve got to get back to the wedding,” Mara told him. “I’ll make sure no one goes down that way.”
“Sure thing.” Johnny squeezed my wrists tighter, then led me through the door. Once we were outside, the air was absolutely freezing. The sun was low. It was dusk and the light had quickly faded in the sky.
Johnny reached in his pocket and pulled out a zip tie. Who keeps a zip tie and a gun on their person? He zipped my wrists together behind my back.
I attempted to separate my hands ever so slightly. As I did so, the plastic began to cut into my wrists. I shimmied one wrist, then the other before Johnny poked the gun into my back. “Don’t do that.”
My right wrist had gone too far, and I had a warm, wet sensation trickling down over my pinkie. From that point on, I decided to keep my hands still.
Where’s Javier? He’ll be here any second. I had to comfort myself the best way I knew how—with probable lies. Maybe what I’d sent him wasn’t really enough for him to get a warrant. Maybe he really wasn’t on his way.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“Back to the barn.” Johnny pointed down the slope.
I trudged along towards the barn with him pressuring me with the point of the gun anytime I tried to slow down too much.
“My buddy Adam told me that a lady from the news was poking around asking question. That was you, wasn’t it?”
“Not just me. My friend Kate knows where I am,” I lied. “And the police are on their way.”
“Sure they are.” Johnny laughed. “You know, I’m pretty good at cleaning up my messes. You ever seen a cleaner bar than mine?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to give him any satisfaction.
My right wrist stung like fire. I couldn't tell if I was still bleeding or if I’d broken or sprained it somehow.
The barn was still set up for the wedding. The heaters were still on. The lights were dim, still set low for a sunset wedding. The doors at the other end, where the ceremony had taken place, were closed. The windows were high enough there was no way I could reach them, even with a stack of chairs.
Johnny forced me to sit down in a chair along the aisle. Then he took out yet more zip ties and zipped my ankles to the legs of the chair.
“That won’t hold you for long, but it’ll hold ya long enough.” He did the same thing to one of my arms, tying it to the back of the chair.
Then Johnny went over to a heater and knocked it down on a mound of straw. He took his lighter to the bale of hay beside it. A fire grew steadily from the spot.
I heard as he slammed the door behind me.
“And, now, you’re locked in.” His voice was so cold. I wondered if Mara had any clue that this is what his plan entailed.
I was able to get my legs free first. Standing the chair up, the zip ties fell away. Then I was able to stand, the white folding chair still attached to my back.
I made my way down the aisle, across the barn to the other door. I tried to kick it open, but it didn’t budge.
My foot stung, but that pain was nothing compared to my wrists. And the chair was heavy against my back as the smoke found its way to me. I didn’t want to look back and see how much larger the fire had grown.
Then I thrust my shoulder into the door. Again, and again, I tried to escape. With each thrust, the zip tie dug a little deeper into my wrists.
I was wearing myself out quickly. I paused and took three deep breaths. But this time, the smoke was overwhelming. The barn was full of deep black smoke. And I was no longer cold. No longer cold at all.
Something caught my attention. A new sound was in the air. It wasn't the sound of burning—which I pretended I couldn’t hear. It was something else. The faint sound of sirens in the distance.
Hope began to stir in my belly. But as my lungs filled with smoke, I began to crumple to the ground.
The sirens grew louder and louder. A chorus of blessed music. If only they could find me here. Was the barn too far out of sight? Was it too dark to see smoke? Were the flames enough to draw attention my way?
An engine revved nearby. Tires squealed as a vehicle failed to gain the desired amount of traction. I could onl
y assume it was Johnny, attempting to make his getaway.
I eased myself all the way to the ground. The chair was heavy on top of me. The siren outside was as loud as the crackling fire in my ears.
All of a sudden, everything went black.
22
The next thing I knew, I was coming to on a stretcher. There was an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose, and like every other person in the world, my first inclination was to rip it off.
A paramedic placed his hands on my good wrist to stop me. I realized my other wrist was still in some pain.
“That was a close one,” Marcus said. He adjusted the mask to the correct position and smiled. I allowed myself to breath in deeply.
Slowly, I sat up with the help of my elbows. Marcus didn’t protest. I was in the back of an ambulance. Its backdoor was open to Bentley’s Estate. There were at least ten law enforcement vehicles and a fire truck. Their sirens were off, but I had to shield my eyes because a few still had spinning red and blue lights.
“How are you feeling?” Marcus asked.
I gave him a thumbs up. My other arm was in a brace and bandaged at the wrist.
“Good.” He removed the mask. “Continue breathing through it. Kate would kill me if I let something happen to you. You inhaled a lot of smoke.”
“I know,” I said.
The porch of the main house shone like a beacon. I could just make out Mara sitting on one of the rocking chairs. She looked as shaken up as Suzi had the night George passed away. Detective Hank Burley, Javier’s partner, stood with a notepad, talking to her.
A dark and handsome man caught my eye from close to them. Then Javier stared back, just as he’d done the night prior, but this time, he jogged over in my direction. He climbed inside and gave me a weak grin.
“How are you holding up?”
A Choice Cocktail of Death (A Foodie Files Mystery Book 2) Page 10