by Lakota Grace
The dog put both paws in Beatrix's lap, and she buried her face in its sooty fur. An old sedan pulled into the yard. An older woman leaped out and ran towards us. Beatrix's sister. It was time for me to leave.
“Call me, when you get to your sister’s house. Let me know you are okay,” I said.
I had to reach Manresa Snow before Wolf did. Even if the woman had been responsible for this fire, he might be jumping to conclusions. What did she have to do with Andy's death or Henry's for that matter?
I called Manresa Snow, but there was no answer. Was I too late? Had Wolf reached her already?
I gunned the Jetta on the road to Manresa's gallery. There were two speed traps between here and there, and I hoped the traffic patrol was busy elsewhere this afternoon.
When I reached a break in traffic, I pulled over and tried Manresa's number again before I began the winding mountain road to Mingus. Still no response.
Didn't the woman have voice mail? Maybe she was busy on another line. Or her phone might be out of order because…I didn't want to go there. I called the operator, identified myself, and gave her Manresa's information.
“There’s a life-threatening emergency. Please check if the phone is operational.”
There was a click and silence while the operator dialed the number. Then she returned to me.
“The phone is working; the woman on the other end is speaking to someone.”
“Please break in. Have her call me, immediately.”
I gave her my number. Then I hung up and waited impatiently for Manresa's return call.
“Hello, Peg. They said it was an emergency. It’s not my daughter, Silver, is it?”
That she had acknowledged her child was a good thing. But of more importance was Wolf's state of mind. He was ready to avenge Andy Fisher's death and blame the deadly fire assault on someone. Both Manresa and Silver could be targets.
“No, I’m not calling about Silver,” I said. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I was out of town at a buyer's convention in Las Vegas. In fact, I was talking to a client I met there when the operator broke in.”
“Has Wolf Brandeis been there?”
“No, I haven't seen anyone. But there was a note from Adaire. She said she was going to visit Robbyn Fisher. Why would she do that? She hates Robbyn.”
And then suddenly I had it. The target of Wolf's interest was not Manresa, who had been the surrogate mother to the lost Andy Fisher, but her jealous partner, Adaire Ybarra. Adaire, who even now might be on her way to kill another fatherless child, Henry's young son.
“Manresa, lock the doors and windows. Don't let anyone in, not even Adaire. Do you understand?”
I squealed into a U-Turn, narrowly missing a truck going the other direction. He blasted his horn, which I ignored. I skidded through the corner and speeded toward the Village of Oak Creek at ninety. Wolf had a head start on me, but maybe I could still intervene.
“Call Robbyn Fisher,” I ordered my cell phone, praying there'd be an answer.
Robbyn in Danger
~ 42 ~
Pegasus
As I neared the outskirts of the Village, blue and red lights flashed by the side of the road near the Forest Service Visitors' Center.
Patrol cars surrounded Wolf's old pickup. Rory's be-on-the-lookout for Wolf Brandeis had spread a net that finally caught the wild one. I stopped next to a sheriff’s Blazer with four doors open.
Crouched behind one door was a deputy with a bullhorn.
“Come out of your truck, hands in the air.”
Wolf wasn't moving, just sat there in the truck, hands on the steering wheel. He’d have to handle his own problems. I needed to get to the Fisher house, and fast.
I swung out onto the open road beyond the police Blazer. A young life was at stake!
I rumbled across the Oak Creek Bridge and at the second roundabout, I screeched up the hill toward the Fisher residence.
The front door was open. Adaire had beat me here, and I didn't know what I'd find as I entered the mansion. The main hall was quiet. Beyond that was the stairway. Whatever was happening had to be upstairs.
At the top of the stairs, I paused, listening. To the right, the hallway opened through double doors into a wide master's suite. Nothing there—the big room was empty. I turned the other direction toward the guest rooms and the nursery. There was a shuffling behind the nursery door and I stopped.
“No, Adaire! He's my son. You can't do this.”
Robbyn froze into position near the open balcony door. Beyond her, a low ledge was the only barrier before a steep drop-off to a cement patio floor below.
Robbyn pointed to where Adaire held the toddler near the ledge. Her eyes were wild as she lifted the toddler up. A fall from this height could mean serious injury to a young child. Perhaps even death.
“Let me speak to her,” I whispered to Robbyn and pushed past.
“Please, Adaire, put little Henry down,” I said.
“I don't want to talk!” She gripped the child so tightly that his arms were red.
The little boy was crying but trying to keep back the tears, snuffling. He'd been dressed for nighttime, in those footed pajamas. He clutched a worn teddy bear in one hand.
If the child got frightened, he could trigger Adaire to action that might be fatal. So, I had two souls to calm, little Henry and his kidnapper.
“Adaire, I met with you and Manresa at the gallery. We discussed Manresa's daughter, Silver. Do you remember?”
She stared at me blankly. Guess she didn't.
“That child must be heavy. Why don't you give him to me?”
She glanced at the boy as though she had forgotten he was there.
I took a step, and Adaire jerked back.
“Don't come any closer,” she warned. “I'll throw him over the ledge. You know I will.”
“That little boy isn't part of your problems.” Sweat broke out on my forehead as I tried to think of what would stop her. “Why don't you talk to me about what's bothering you.”
“We're going to lose the gallery.”
“The gallery,” I repeated. Keep her talking.
“I told Manresa, I warned her,” Adaire said. “But she wouldn't listen. So I stole drugs from the hospice where I worked and sold them at a good profit. I used the money to pay the bills for the gallery. I changed the bookkeeping records and Manresa never caught on. She thought we were in the black. When each month we were that much closer to bankruptcy.”
“And one of your drug customers was Andy Fisher,” I said. I kept a close watch on the little boy.
“Oh, yes, he was a regular. Picked up the habit overseas. Only he was running out of money to pay me for his drugs. I told him he should visit that rich father of his. But he decided to blackmail me instead. So I gave him what he wanted all right, lots of drugs. I made sure they were the kind that shut him up permanently. He would have told Manresa, and I couldn't have that.”
“Of course not,” I said. Always agree with the suspect, no matter how crazy the rationale they invented. “Andy would have told Manresa. And Henry?”
“They almost caught me at the hospice. I couldn't steal any more drugs. Manresa and I argued about the gallery all the time. I told her we could get the money if she just went to Henry. But she wouldn't go. So I went.”
“Did Henry give you the money you asked for?”
She laughed again, a short bark. “Told me to get the hell out of his house. Threatened me with that gun.”
“So you grabbed it and killed him.”
She looked at me with astonishment. “Well, what else could I do?”
I moved a step closer, always keeping eye contact. The child was quiet, holding tight to his toy. His eyelids started to droop.
“With Henry out of the picture you had to be home free,” I said.
“You'd think,” Adaire scoffed. “But I was afraid that Andy had written something in that black notebook he carried. Or
maybe he'd told Beatrix. I couldn't have that. Manresa wouldn't marry me if she knew.”
“So you went to Andy's house.” I moved a step closer.
“I was concerned the rest of the drugs might still be there. Or if Andy told his wife, she’d go to the police.”
“So you doctored the water by her bedside. If you shut her up, no one would ever know.”
The child wiggled uncomfortably, and I smiled at him, putting a finger to my lips. If I could get him to think we were playing a game, maybe he'd be quiet—just a little longer. He put his own finger to his lips in imitation of my own.
“And then you set fire to Andy’s house,” I said.
“Well, of course,” she said. “That would destroy any drugs that Andy had stashed, and Beatrix would die in the fire. That left the new son of Henry’s. With him out of the picture, Manresa would inherit everything. We could move away from here, to a place where we'd be happy.”
“But Silver?”
“Oh, she was just a test-tube baby. She couldn’t inherit. Manresa told me that.”
“You did what you could to make things right.” I spoke in a gentle voice, trying to soothe the agitated woman.
“Please let me have the little boy. You don’t have to hurt him.”
Her grip on the child loosened, and I moved closer. I think she was ready to give up, to release him.
At that moment, Chas Doon rushed into the room brandishing his service revolver.
“Drop that kid and move away from the ledge. Now!” he screamed.
Adaire froze.
I jumped for her and grabbed the little boy.
Adaire pivoted and leaped over the railing. There was a sickening thud as she hit the cement below. I passed the child to the waiting arms of his mother and peered over the balcony railing. Adaire lay still on the patio below, her neck crooked at an unnatural angle. She was dead.
Rory rushed to me.
“Wolf told us what was going on. I tried to stop Chas, but he wouldn't listen. He dashed in here like a crazy man.”
“Hey, who you calling crazy?” Chas blustered. “I saved the taxpayers all sorts of money. The woman confessed. I made the right call.”
Chas Doon killed someone with his careless actions, and all he’d get would be a reprimand, a slap on the wrist. But his murder case was solved.
And where did that leave me?
Three Magic Words
~ 43 ~
Rory
When Rory rushed into the room on the heels of Chas Doon, his first concern was Peg’s safety. But as she stood there, alone on the balcony she seemed to be okay.
“You idiot!” she said to Chas, “What in the hell were you thinking rushing in here? I had it covered! And now Adaire is dead.”
Then she turned on Rory.
“And what did you do with Wolf Brandeis? He had nothing to do with this. He was coming here to save Robbyn and her son, not hurt them.”
Rory touched her shoulder, but she brushed his fingers away.
“Wolf is at the sheriff's office,” he said.
“Under arrest?”
“Not yet. Protective custody.”
It was a convenient legal slot the sheriff's department fit individuals into without charging them. Actually, in this situation, there wasn't much to charge Wolf Brandeis with.
“And his truck?”
Rory ducked his head from her wrath. “It's parked outside the sheriff's office. I had one of the officers drive it in.”
“Release him,” Peg said, her eyes locked on Rory.
“What? I can't do that.” Rory looked at Chas, who was obviously enjoying the interchange.
“Ah, go ahead, Stevens. He’s useless to us right now. We know where he is if we need to pick him up again.”
Actually, they wouldn't, Rory thought. That was one slippery son-of-a-gun. But it gave Rory the opportunity to get back in Peg's good graces again. He held up his cell phone.
“Mind if I?”
Chas gestured his assent, and Rory made the call.
Still high on crisis adrenaline, Peg rushed to the woman standing at the edge of the room. “Robbyn, are you okay?” she asked. “Is Henry, Jr., doing all right?”
The frightened young mother nodded shakily.
“Then I'm going to leave. You people, since I'm fired, can handle this on your own.”
And that would be another death notification that would land on Rory’s shoulders. Not if he could help it!
“Wait, Peg. I really need you on the case.” Rory swallowed hard. Being humble in front of Chas was a difficult thing to do.
“Could you, would you go by to see Manresa, let her know what has happened?” he asked. “She needs you.”
Those were the three magic words. Peg stopped for a moment. “Okay, but then, I’m done.”
She stalked out.
“Whew! That was a close one.” Chas Doon wiped his brow in exaggerated relief.
Rory stared at him. He’d gladly give Chas the accolades for this convoluted mess. This whole thing had been mucked up from the get-go: First, the suicide that wasn't a suicide, the murder that was a confrontation gone bad, the house fire arson, and now, this, the death of the perpetrator.
Go ahead, Chas, he thought. You take credit for all of it.
Silver’s Gamble
~ 44 ~
Silver
Rising before dawn the next morning, Silver used Peg's new bathroom and dressed in the darkness. She gave Reckless's ears a pat. Not a bad person, for a dog.
She picked up her daypack and slipped out the front door before Peg woke up, locking it behind her. Never could tell what burglars would come in if she left it open.
Then Silver walked up to 89A and hitched a ride with a produce hauler into Sedona. To forestall conversation, she plugged in her earbuds, but rather than listen to her favorite playlist, her mind mulled over the events of the day before.
Silver had never liked Adaire, but she’d felt sorry for her mother, Manresa, until the woman threw her out of the gallery yesterday. She didn’t have to do that.
And then she’d not gotten any sleep last night with Peg’s weeping and wailing. Probably crying over that idiot who stole the revolver from her.
Silver never cried, or if she did, she made sure nobody else was near. You couldn't defend yourself with your eyes squinched shut.
No, it was time to be moving on.
At the first red traffic light in West Sedona, Silver opened the door of the truck to leave. But before she did, she gave the driver a quick peck on the cheek.
“Thanks for the ride, Darlin’. Call me anytime.” She slipped him a piece of paper with Peg Quincy’s name and phone number on it.
On the short walk up to the Fisher mansion, Silver rehearsed what she was going to say. Follow the money. That's what her foster mother (the good one) always used to tell her.
Silver knocked twice at the big door, but no one answered. She was tempted to use her own key copy but resisted. Instead, she tried the doorknob. Unlocked.
She poked her head inside.
“Robbyn? You there?”
“In here.” Robbyn was curled in a tight ball on the couch, a wad of tissues crumpled on the floor in front of her.
“Hey, good friend,” Silver said. Always remind them of the relationship. “Why the tears? You still have your house, right?”
“It's gone. The bank is repossessing next week.”
“Well, you have that fortune in the Cayman Islands, don’t you?”
“Vanished. Liquidated to pay a lawsuit,” Robbyn stated flatly.
“What about that tennis bracelet? It should be worth a mint.” Silver was getting desperate.
Robbyn looked at her incredulously.
“It was a phony! That jewelry store owner faked his own insurance policy and then fired me to get his money.”
Silver looked at Robbyn appraisingly. It was time for the con, the one she’d come here to run.
“Ever been to Vegas? You've
got the look.”
Robbyn gave her a tremulous smile. It was all the encouragement Silver needed.
She reached into her daypack and drew out a well-thumbed set of cards. “Poker is the best game if you are serious about winning. And I always win, especially if I have a good lookout.”
She spread the cards in a shark's semi-circle on the table in front of her. “Here's what comes first.”
An Offer for Peg
~ 45 ~
Rory
Later that morning, Rory stopped by Peg’s cabin. He found her on the front porch, rocking. Reckless was at her feet, a carefully calculated distance from the rocker's curving path.
Peg's expression was bleak, and her eyes had dark shadows underneath them.
“He's gone.”
“Who? Oh, Wolf.”
“Don't sound so happy,” she said. “It was your be-on-the-lookout that spooked him.”
“Peg, I had Chas on my back, and you weren't cooperating.”
She held up her palm. “Stop! Don't blame everybody else for the result of your actions. You’re as bad as Chas when you do that.”
Rory stiffened and then relaxed. “You’re right. I'm sorry.”
She sniffled. “Me, too.”
“Are you sure he’s left for good?”
“Pretty much,” she said. “I expected maybe he’d be by to say goodbye last night, but nada. He’s gone.”
Rory lowered himself to the front step and scratched behind Reckless’s ear. The hound leaned into him.
“How did Manresa take it when you spoke to her yesterday?” he asked.
“She's shaken up by the whole thing. Blaming herself for Adaire’s actions. Silver stopped in while I was there. I hoped maybe the two would reconcile, but Manresa still wouldn’t speak to her. Threw her out of the gallery.”
“What was Silver’s reaction to that?” Rory asked.
“You know her. Rebellious to the end. She said since there's no money to be had at the gallery, and her father was dead, she might be moving on.”