On Borrowed Crime

by Kate Young

  “The job in Atlanta took you to Guatemala?” I seethed.

  “No. I finished it up two days ago. I’m helping out a fellow SEAL, a buddy I served with. I can’t go into it further. Don’t ask.” His tone told me he meant business. “Now, what’s going on?”

  While I relayed the entire ordeal to my uncle, my phone buzzed multiple times. Quinn was trying to get in touch with me, and I didn’t want to see him. When I finished, Uncle Calvin said, “And where is Chief Daniels now? And the GBI officer?”

  “Still at the Trail Head Grill, I think. I can’t believe you told Quinn you’d rein me in.” I couldn’t hide the hurt in my tone.

  “He said Judge Timms asked to drop the case and you wouldn’t.”

  “Quinn is such a liar.” Though he knew me well. Even if Judge Timms had dropped it, I wouldn’t have until I knew all the facts.

  “It sounds as if you’ve rattled some cages, and that worries me.”

  Mel came to the table and passed me a drink with mint leaves. I took a sip and nearly coughed—high octane. Bless her heart.

  “I don’t know who to trust.” I took a drink. “All I know is I’m on to something. The rhymes, the picture, and the scarves were a match.” I wiped the sweat from my forehead.

  “You don’t sound so good.”

  “I’m fine. A lot freaked out, but fine.” I finished the drink. “Kevin said Carol left evidence. After the notes and evidence she left for me, I’m inclined to believe there’s truth to his words.”

  Melanie eyed me with interest. She mouthed, “What?”

  I held up a finger and took another sip. The line began to crackle. As if a switch flipped, I had an idea of what Carol had done with the potential evidence. I recalled the recordings of her session with Daddy.

  “If I were to write a novel, one that my club, the Jane Does, might read and discuss, I’d have my protagonist, um, Maggie, hide evidence about a murder in plain sight. Like in a framed print!”

  I worried, since she continued to follow the style of Agatha Christie’s novel for hiding evidence, that Carol had something to do with the killing of her Jane. She knew too many facts. I swallowed. And her death hadn’t silenced her. She’d planned for it.

  “Lyla! Lyla, are you there?”

  Lots of crackling on the line.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I just got an idea.”

  “Can’t I talk you into going to stay at your parents’ place and waiting on this until I return?”

  I turned away from a group passing our table en route to the restrooms. “And bring this danger to their doorstep? Not a chance.”

  He gave out a low growl of frustration and then let a string of curses fly. He was so loud that Melanie’s eyes flared, hearing his rant. Now, with the latest brazen threat so out in the open for all to see, this felt more personal.

  “If I can’t persuade you not to act on something stupid,” Uncle Calvin said, “there’s a revolver locked in the safe in my office. The combination is your mother’s birthday.”

  “Mother’s birthday—that’s weird.”

  “Pay attention. You’d rather have the gun and not use it than need it and not have it. This could be life and death here.”

  “I hear you.”

  “I’m flying back on Sunday. I’ll try to leave earlier if I can. I’m going to have a talk with this GBI fellow and see where his head is. You trust him?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. Be careful.”

  “You have my word.” I disconnected the call.

  Melanie scooted closer to me, her brows pinched in the middle. “What are you planning? I can see the wheels turning.”

  “We need to go home. I’ll fill you in on the way.” I kept my tone low. “And I need to get out of this square without being seen.”

  Mel stared at me for a few heartbeats and nodded. When she slid from the chair, I looped my arm through hers, not wanting us to get separated, and we rushed to her Corolla.

  I stayed low in the seat as we rounded the square. I spotted Quinn and several other officers milling around. The corners of Melanie’s mouth turned down in concern when Quinn noticed her car. “Explain. You better not be planning something stupid.”

  I gave her a condensed version of my thoughts regarding Carol and the novel, and instructed her to take me to the office and park in the back.

  Melanie kept slowly shaking her head as I opened the safe. “You know I love you, and I’m all for you being a private detective—I mean I was right there with you—but this scares me. I can’t lose you too.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Your uncle is on a rampage, and we might take that as a warning sign. That GBI officer is all Men in Black and dangerous looking, and he’s confirmed we’re on to something. Whoever is behind this proved tonight he could get to you wherever you are. Now trusting Quinn is up in the air because he potentially concealed evidence, and now you’re in hiding.”

  “When you put it that way, it sounds like a conspiracy theory. And normally I would say I agree with you. I won’t lie: I’m terrified, but I’m pissed off too. I want to finish this once and for all. I’m tired of playing defense.”

  When I turned around with the firearm in a holster, her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Her hands flew to her face. “And you’re carrying a gun! Sweet Jesus!”

  “I won’t let another one of us die.” I slid it in my bag.

  “Okay. Okay. I get that. Do you even know how to operate that thing?”

  I turned, and my bag faced her.

  “Ah, don’t point that bag at me!”

  “Don’t worry, and yes, I know how to operate it. Daddy taught me how to shoot when I was young.” I locked up, engaging the security system.

  “This is too scary. But I get what you’re saying.” Melanie made the sign of a cross over her body, and we dashed to the car. “I’m not sure how I feel about this. Why not back off and let the police run with it? Rest your brain. Maybe we’re missing something because fear is clouding our judgment.”

  I clicked my seat belt into place. I’d expected Melanie to have reservations and to be worried about me, but to maintain her supportive nature. “I need you to trust me to know what I’m doing.”

  She gave me a skeptical glare before pulling out into the traffic.

  “I’m figuring it out. What happened to your nail-the-bastard attitude?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t seem so simple now. What if we’re wrong, and Kevin is guilty? The hunky ones always seem to have skeletons in the closet.” She shivered.

  “You act like we stumbled on another body.”

  “The rhyme, Lyla! It’s the last line.”

  “I know that.”

  “Just think about it for a second. The Kevin thing. We read all about the Bundy case. And there are loads of others written about men manipulating women to help them get free. Female accomplices on the outside trying to make them look innocent.” Her eyes were big, and her brows nearly disappeared in her hairline. “Think about it—the Wicked Witch of the West, Ellen. She’d do anything for Kevin. She’s cray-cray!”

  “I hear you. I’ve had the same thoughts. And in order to solve this, to discover what happened to Carol, we need to find out the identity of the Jane Doe and who killed her. I don’t care who I have to expose. It’s the best course of action.”

  “You’re right.” Mel puffed out her cheeks. “That makes sense. Sorry I freaked out.”

  “You’re allowed. This is a nightmare.” I straightened in the seat. “I really believe Carol knew the Jane’s identity and might have left evidence behind. I have a good idea where she hid it.”

  Her head whipped in my direction until someone honked behind us. “Okay. Okay. You’re thinking along the lines of the novel.”

  I nodded.

  The car slowly rolled forward.

  “And where is this evidence? Not the bottle thing where the killer left his confession on an island of dead people?”

  “Whatever she left, I think she left
it at her house.”

  “Oh no, no, no. You’re not going to Judge Timms’s house by yourself. Forget Quinn. Tell Mr. GBI. He’ll meet us there.”

  I pondered that for a minute. “Judge Timms wouldn’t allow him to search his house. At least I don’t think he would. No.” I shook my head. “I can’t risk it.”

  “Well, now we’re talking about it, what if everyone is completely off base here?”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning,” she said, her cheeks flushed, “I’m thinking now that maybe hubby did it. That’s one of the reasons I came out to tail y’all tonight. My brother called me after you left to go on the date with Quinn. According to him, the judge and Quinn used to bet at the track together, and my brother says he and Judge Timms lost a lot of money. They nearly came to blows, according to my brother.”

  “Why would they come to blows over a lost bet?”

  Melanie shrugged. “I don’t know the specifics, but Chris said the race was a sure thing. So, I’m guessing maybe it was fixed or something, and they were double-crossed.”

  “Fixed?” I made a face.

  “Maybe that’s what Quinn owes Judge Timms for. And both of them have the juice to derail the investigation. Hell, I don’t know. It’s just an assumption. And if the judge is hard up for cash, that might be why he’s so hell bent on keeping Carol’s inheritance for himself.”

  I’d had my serious suspicions about the judge. Which is why I was packing tonight. I needed to know more. Secrets were hard to keep in this little town. Case in point, I thought when my phone rang and I saw it was my father. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “I take it because you answered the phone you’re all right.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m out with Melanie.” I hit the mute button when Melanie took a left on Cloverdale instead of a right. “Where are you going? You’re supposed to be driving us home.”

  “I told you, if you’re going to go to the potential killer’s house, you aren’t going alone.”

  It was one thing if I put myself in danger; it was a completely different thing if I took a friend along. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No way.”

  She glared at me. “Yes way! The Jane Does started this together. We’re finishing it together.” Her stubborn expression left no room for further negotiation.

  “Okay, but you’ll wait in the car.”

  “Lyla!” my daddy said. I jumped and took him off “Mute.”

  “Sorry, Daddy.”

  “Quinn called. He said you disappeared during your dinner with him, and wanted to know if I’d seen you.” Quinn hadn’t told daddy about the threat.

  My stomach flip-flopped. “Quinn and I had a disagreement. I decided to skip out after we finished dinner and to have a drink with Melanie before going home.”

  Melanie’s knuckles were as white on the steering wheel as her face was.

  “Thanks for checking up on me. I’m fine. Love you.”

  “Love you too. Call Quinn. He sounded worried.”

  I bet he did. “I will.”

  “Oh, and Lyla? I want you to know you can come to me. We may not always see eye to eye on certain matters, but I’m here for you.”

  I squeezed the phone. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “Quinn called my dad.” I slipped the phone back into my purse. “Hey, I’ve been thinking. Judge Timms might be asleep, and his sister could decide not to let me in.”

  “We can hope.” Melanie rolled up to the house next door.

  Smart move, I thought.

  “I’ll keep it running,” my friend said.

  “You’re sure?”

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes while nodding. “He might clam up if the two of us go in there. Since he hired you, it would make more sense for you to go in alone.”

  I put my hand on the door handle. “I won’t be long.”

  She patted the steering wheel. “You text me. Anything. A single letter or number if that’s all you can manage—and the second you feel threatened. I mean it. I’ll ram this car right through his front door.”

  “It won’t come to that.” I hopped out of the car, hoping it was the truth.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  To my surprise, the door opened on the first knock, and Judge Timms stood on the other side. “Lyla, is everything all right? Come in.” He stepped aside with a little stagger.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you or your sister.” I glanced around to see if his sister was near.

  “She decided to stay at a hotel tonight.” He closed the door behind me, and nerves kicked up in my stomach.

  I’d assumed Marigold would be staying with him. If I’d known he would be alone, I never would have come inside by myself.

  “We had a tiff. She’s always mothered me too much for my taste.” He smiled at me, his eyes even more bloodshot than they were earlier, and I attempted to return the smile. “Tonight must have been a horrible shock. Are you okay?” He reached out and touched my arm, and I fought not to flinch. By the way he didn’t react, I figured I must have succeeded.

  I nodded. “Yes. I think so.”

  “Quinn should do a better job of watching out for you. I was surprised to see the two of you together. I didn’t know you were back together.”

  “Oh, no, we aren’t. It isn’t anything like that.”

  He smiled and put his hand on my lower back and guided me ahead. “Come into the living room and have a drink with me.”

  “I wanted to ask you something.” I perched on the edge of the studded Italian leather sofa while he made two scotches.

  “Hmm?”

  I took the glass he extended to me, and he sat a little closer than I was comfortable with. And being at the end of the sofa, there wasn’t any place left to go. It was time to be calculating and ruthless. “I wondered, after what happened tonight, if I could take a look at Carol’s computer? Maybe go through her files?”

  He leaned back and slurped from his glass. “The police went through everything and didn’t find anything.” He picked up the remote from beside him, and a second later the room filled with classical music. He moved his hand as if conducting the orchestra.

  “I’m sure I won’t find anything. I just need to have a look, especially after the arrest. I can’t believe I didn’t see what was right in front of me. It angers me, you know?”

  He studied me for a few long seconds over the rim of his glass. “I can understand that. You think you know a person, and then you find out your whole life was a lie. Go ahead. She has a little office down that hall and to the left.” He closed his eyes. “My Carol … Why?”

  I wasted no time excusing myself from the room and hustling down the hall. My smart watch pinged with an All okay? from Melanie. I sent back a thumbs-up emoji and opened the door. It creaked ominously. I reached inside and felt along the wall for a switch. The room, bathed in soft light, still had a faint hint of Carol’s perfume. The small writing desk sat catty-corner to the bay window with a bench seat, where I recalled her saying she loved to read and have her morning coffee. The morning sun came through at just the right angle and made this room perfect.

  There was a little empty frame on the desk that had to be where the picture Amelia found had come from. Anyone could have slipped back here and taken it. My heart ached, and a swell of anger welled within me. “Okay, Carol, show me where you hid it,” I murmured to myself. I went to her desk, where she had old yearbooks open, with sticky notes attached to several pages. I scanned the images. A couple of her and Val in majorette outfits made me smile. Then she had old photographs lying loose on the desk. I found a picture of Melanie and me at the alumnae bonfire when we were about twenty. Carol had searched where I was searching now.

  I had my arm around Mel’s shoulders, and we both looked wasted. The next picture was at the same bonfire. I was sitting on Carol’s lap, with one arm thrown out, and she and I had our mouths wide, singing or maybe laughing. I didn’t even remember that picture. Come to think of it,
I didn’t have a single photo from that night. The night that charted the course for the Jane Doe’s death and Carol’s—a tremor shot through me—and potentially mine.

  Tears began to stream down my cheeks. I swiped them away and started opening drawers and checking underneath them. I checked every framed print in the office and behind paintings. Five minutes later, I stood deflated and discouraged. I’d hoped whatever she’d hidden would be in her office. I couldn’t very well scour the entire house. Time wouldn’t afford that. I slipped from the room and down the hall, checking every framed print as I passed. The judge was snoring loudly, the cup of scotch at his feet. I had some time unless a maid let herself in late. It was a chance I’d have to take.

  As quiet as a mouse, I began to work my way around the living room. Then I went into the kitchen and checked there. I got the stepladder out of the little broom closet and checked the two large paintings in the entryway. Nothing.

  Could I have been entirely off base here? Of course I could. What I’d surmised as clues could’ve been the ramblings of a mentally ill woman. Judge Timms’s mouth was wide open; his head lulled to the side. Still he snored as loud as a freight train.

  Taking advantage of his slumber, I considered going upstairs and checking the master bedroom. Then it felt as if Carol herself whispered into my ear. I turned and saw a framed “Ten Little Soldiers” poem on a table in the corner, behind a floral vase. My heart rate sped up, and I picked up the frame and slid off the back. A sticky note!

  It read, Be like Maggie. Before there are none.

  Be like Maggie … be like Maggie. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Then it hit me. Carol’s tape recording: “Maggie would be really creative. Perhaps in a bath—”

  The bathroom!

  I went to work, checking all the bathrooms on the second floor to no avail. Back on the main floor, I scurried down the hall on tiptoes and into the hall bathroom. I secured the lock on the door and started searching. The cabinet under the sink held nothing but toiletries. Next, I checked the mounted mirror and behind the toilet. Carol had an antique washboard under the small window. I checked inside the bowl and behind the mirror. I blew out a breath and turned slowly in the small bathroom. “Be like Maggie.” Melanie had been waiting for twenty minutes, and I had to get going. I tapped the speaker on my watch and dictated, “Coming out now.”