Ladies' Circle of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 8)

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  “Me, too, but it will only take a minute,” Lacy said. They were picking up a car. What could go wrong? Everything, as it turned out.

  Chapter 15

  The car lot wasn’t locked. This time Lacy checked the gate before attempting to shimmy over. It swung open easily.

  “Tell me again why we didn’t call Mom to meet us here,” Riley said.

  “I want a minute to look around first.”

  “Look for what?”

  “I don’t know,” Lacy said. “I have to put this story to bed. I want to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

  “Let me get this straight; you’re writing a story about a man who may or may not have been murdered and you’re looking for evidence that may or may not exist,” Riley said.

  “That sums it up pretty well,” Lacy said. “Something didn’t feel right the first time I was here, and I want to know why. Was it because I had just witnessed our mother sneaking away? Or was it something else? I want to answer that question before I write my story.”

  “Okay. I’ll stand here and try not to suck the moon into the gravitational pull that is now my belly. Don’t hurry on my account,” Riley said. She stood in the middle of the lot, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

  Lacy turned in a slow circle, surveying the scene. How was she supposed to know if something was out of place? To her it looked like every other mechanic’s lot she had ever seen. There were cars. Some of them looked to be in good condition, and some of them were outwardly damaged. The body damage reminded her of Dan’s words about Bob. He said Bob had come up with another scheme. What had it been? Had he decided to work with another used car salesman? If so, she doubted he could make as much as he made with Dan, the largest used car salesman in the area. Perhaps he was branching out on his own. She should have asked Dan more questions.

  She walked to her mother’s car and paused. Had Bob fixed it before he died? She had never heard. If not, they would have to find a new mechanic. The car looked perfect, sandwiched as it was between two cars with heavy body damage. The one on the right was a maroon Honda, the one on the left a blue Buick. Lacy had a sudden flash of memory. A blue car had been on the lift when she and her mother arrived. It had also been a blue car on the lift when Bob died. Could this be the same car?

  She went forward for a closer inspection, not sure what she was expecting to find. What else had she heard about a Buick lately? Something Dan said about Celia. Her Cadillac was a loaner. She drove an old Buick, a jalopy, as Dan had called it. The blue Buick in question certainly qualified as a jalopy, even before the deer damage to the front grill. Lacy had never hit a deer; she had no idea the damage could be so extensive.

  She leaned closer, her face nose-to-nose with the bent frame of the car. There were still bits of the deer embedded in the grill, and she grimaced. Had Suze and Pearl claimed the deer? They often took roadkill and made food from it, among other things. Once Pearl had made a purse from a dead groundhog. She had offered to make one for Lacy. That had been a tricky one to say no to.

  Lacy tilted her head to the right. Was that deer fur matted in with the blood and gore? She reached out a hand and quickly snatched it back. No, deer fur wasn’t gray. Or long.

  She tried to stumble back, remembered she was squatting, and fell backwards.

  “What are you doing?” Riley asked.

  “I…I think there’s hair in the grill,” Lacy said.

  “What are you talking about?” Riley came forward for a look. Lacy pointed. “Why would hair be in that grill? That doesn’t make any sense. The mechanic guy wasn’t hit by a car, was he?”

  “No, and his hair wasn’t long or gray.”

  “Maybe it’s from an animal, like a horse’s tail or something,” Riley suggested.

  Lacy shook her head slowly. Bits and pieces of things began to come together. Jason’s homeless Jane Doe from the week before had been a woman. Was she elderly? Lacy hadn’t thought to ask, but now she desperately needed to know. She had a horrible, sinking feeling she knew who the dead woman might be. With shaking fingers, she reached for her phone and dialed him. He didn’t answer. She didn’t leave a message. How could she? What would she say? Remember Celia from dodgeball? I think she killed someone with her car. PS, Could you pick me up some doughnuts on your way back into town tomorrow?

  She picked up her phone again, dialed the sheriff’s office, and asked for the detective on call. He wasn’t in, but she asked that he call her because it was an emergency. If Detective Arroyo knew it was her calling, he would never call back. She left Riley’s name instead.

  Ten excruciatingly long minutes later, he returned her call. And, as Lacy guessed, he wasn’t happy when he learned it was her.

  “Why are you calling me? There is nothing, absolutely nothing you could have to say to me that I want to hear,” he said.

  “I think I might know why Bob Hoskins was murdered.”

  He sighed. “This is getting ridiculous. He wasn’t murdered. I know you talked to the coroner. What did he say?”

  “He said the evidence wasn’t conclusive,” Lacy said.

  “Because there is no evidence. The man had an accident. Respect him enough to let this idiocy go.”

  “But you have no idea what I just found,” Lacy said.

  “And I don’t care!” he yelled. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is. Maybe you’re some kind of vigilante or cop wannabe. Maybe you’re a cop groupie who needs a constant crime fix. Whatever the reason, this has got to stop. Your boyfriend puts up with it, but I don’t have to.”

  “But I found…”

  He hung up on her.

  She called back.

  He didn’t answer.

  She called the dispatcher at the sheriff’s office.

  “Detective Arroyo said I’m not allowed to send anyone,” the dispatcher said.

  “This is insane,” Lacy said.

  “That’s what he said,” the dispatcher replied.

  Lacy hung up the phone and tossed it into the dirt. “No one is coming.”

  “That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

  Lacy and Riley turned. While they had been staring at her car, Celia sneaked in behind them. She was older than they were, but the gun she was holding looked very, very new.

  Chapter 16

  Lacy was at a loss for words, and so was Riley. They stared at Celia and her pistol until the silence became awkward. At last Lacy couldn’t take it anymore.

  “So, you have a gun,” she said for lack of anything better.

  “And you’re well-versed in stating the obvious,” Celia said. “Let me take a turn: you know my secret.”

  “What secret?” Lacy said.

  “I would say not to play dumb, but in your case I know it’s not an act. I’ve never met anyone with your special kind of stupid before. How you lack the ability to unravel a ball of yarn or get out of a YMCA equipment room but still somehow figure out my secret is beyond me.”

  “Tact is not one of your strengths,” Lacy said.

  “I spent thirty years working at the Bureau of Worker’s Compensation. I ran out of tact a long time ago,” Celia said.

  “You were a public employee, and now you’re buying a Cadillac,” Lacy said.

  “Strange how that works, isn’t it?” Celia said.

  “Is that why you killed your mom? Was it for the money?” Lacy said. The Jane Doe hadn’t been a random hit-and-run. Lacy put two and two together as soon as she saw the gray hair on Celia’s car.

  “No, the money is gravy. I did it for the freedom, the beautiful, beautiful freedom. Do you have any idea what it’s like to hear your mother criticize you every day of your life?”

  “Yes,” Lacy said.

  “Then you know why I did it,” Celia said.

  “No, I would never kill my mother,” Lacy said.

  “Wait until you’re my age. Wait until your mother ruins every good thing in your life, spoils every romance and drives away every friend you’ve ever h
ad. Wait until she moves in with you and makes it her mission to suck the joy from every aspect of every day. Come talk to me in thirty years and tell me you don’t want to run your mother down with your car, then tell me you won’t laugh while you’re doing it,” Celia said. She chuckled, but it was more maniacal than carefree.

  “Uh, Lacy, we have a problem,” Riley said.

  “Bigger than this?” Lacy said.

  “Yes,” Riley said. She clutched Lacy’s arm until Lacy finally looked at her. “My water broke.”

  “Well, that’s not good,” Lacy said.

  “You think?” Riley said. Sweat beaded her upper lip and she released a long, tense breath.

  “She’s in labor,” Lacy explained to Celia.

  “Once again you swoop in and save the day with the obvious statement. I can see she’s in labor, you nitwit, and I don’t care,” Celia said. “In about ten minutes, it’s not going to matter at all.”

  “You can’t shoot a woman who’s having a baby!” Lacy exclaimed.

  “Who says?”

  “Uh, the law, but also every moral code in the entire world,” Lacy said.

  “What do you want me to do? Shoot you and beat her to death with a board?” Celia said.

  “Why would anyone want that? No, I was hoping you would have a heart and let us go so I can get her to the hospital.”

  “I ran over my own mother and you want me to care that your sister is about to spawn? You really are a special kind of stupid.”

  Riley was doubled over, moaning in misery. Celia was oblivious as she continued talking.

  “All my meticulous planning. I covered everything, and then idiot Dan had to shift my car over to Bob who figured out it wasn’t deer damage on the grill. I offered to pay him off, but he wanted more. He wasn’t going to leave me anything to live on. So I took care of him, and then you came along.”

  “What do you mean you took care of him? What did you do?”

  “I crushed him with a car lift. I thought that part was fairly self-explanatory, even for you,” Celia said.

  “But how? He was bigger than you? Did he lie down beneath the lift and wait patiently for you to drop it on him?”

  “What does it matter to you? I bashed him in the head with a hammer and dragged him under the lift. Now answer my question: How did you figure it out? I mean, really, how? I’ve been following you for days, ever since you started asking questions about Bob. I saw you break in here and I called the cops to stop you from snooping, I watched you fall out of your pants, watched you run head first into my car, watched a cat have better luck with a ball of yarn than you, got tagged out by you, my own teammate, and you still figured out what was going on. How? Because from everything I’ve seen, you should have a helper dog to navigate everyday life with you, and yet here we are. And now I have to get rid of you both, you stupid, stupid child.” Rage rang like steel in her voice. Her hand tightened on the gun until her finger trembled.

  Riley straightened suddenly and chucked a rock at Celia’s head. It hit hard between her eyes. “Dodge this, you old…Oh!” She groaned and doubled over again. Celia crumpled into a heap and stayed there. Lacy crept closer, but there was no need for caution—Celia was out cold and bleeding furiously from a large gash over her nose.

  “You have better aim in labor than I do on a good day,” Lacy said. She took the gun from Celia’s slack fingers and returned to Riley’s side.

  Her sister reached up and grabbed a handful of hair, yanking Lacy down to her level. “Ambulance. Tosh. Now.”

  “Okay, ouch, okay. Let go of my hair.”

  “I can’t,” Riley said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it makes me feel better that someone else is in pain,” she said. Tears streamed down her face. Lacy’s eyes stung, too, but she figured she still had the better end of the deal. Awkwardly, she retrieved her phone and dialed 911.

  “I can’t send an ambulance,” the dispatcher said.

  “Are you kidding me? My sister is in labor, real, gross labor!”

  “Detective Arroyo said you would say anything to get an officer there. I’m sorry, I’m just doing my job.”

  “Actually, you’re not doing your job. Your job is not to be a toady for the detective division. My sister is having a baby, and I don’t plan to deliver it in the dirt of a mechanic’s lot.”

  “I’m sorry,” the dispatcher said and hung up.

  Lacy called back, and they had the argument again. “Forget it,” she said finally and tossed her phone into the dirt.

  Riley started to cry. “I don’t want to have my baby next to a murderer,” she said, sniffling.

  “You won’t,” Lacy promised her. She did the only thing she could think of; she went over the heads of the sheriff’s department. “Hello, State Patrol? I need an officer, it’s an emergency.”

  The sheriff might have jurisdiction in the county, but the patrol had jurisdiction over the whole state. And while they usually left local crime fighting up to the sheriff’s office, they couldn’t resist a woman in distress. Jason had taught her that—he said staties, as he called them, were all boy scouts, even the women. Lacy knew it was true. The ones she had met were so clean-cut and by-the-book that they made Jason look like a hippie.

  Ten minutes later a state patrol unit arrived and immediately called for two ambulances—one for Riley and one for Celia, who was still unconscious.

  “Will the ambulance make it in time?” Riley asked.

  “Don’t worry, ma’am, I’m trained to deliver a baby,” the officer said.

  “Have you ever done it before?” Lacy asked.

  “No, but I have a manual in my car,” he said, and Riley grabbed Lacy’s hair again.

  “Did you call Tosh?” she asked.

  “I’m doing it right now,” she said. She pressed his number and didn’t give him time to say hello before she started to talk.

  “If you want to see your child arrive in person, you’d better be on a plane right now,” she said and hung up. Riley’s grip on her hair hurt too much for niceties.

  While they waited for the medics, Lacy gave her statement about Celia. The officer had to write it down for her. She was still bent sideways, her hair firmly in Riley’s grip. He was just starting to take pictures of the scene when the first ambulance arrived. One of the medics helped uncurl Riley’s fingers from Lacy’s hair so they could load her inside.

  “You’re going to be fine now,” Lacy assured her.

  “Don’t leave me,” Riley pled. She reached for Lacy’s hand and crushed it between both of hers.

  “I don’t think I’m allowed to ride in the ambulance with you,” Lacy said.

  “Sure you are,” the medic said.

  Lacy shot him a dirty look.

  He gave her a cheeky grin in return.

  “I think the officer might need to hear my statement again,” she tried.

  “I have what I need. I’ll call you for more later,” he said.

  The emergency personnel of the world were clearly conspiring against her.

  “All right, I won’t leave you,” Lacy promised, although she wanted nothing more than to run away and hide. Seeing Riley in so much pain was hard enough, but soon there would be too many other things she didn’t want to see or hear.

  Her sister retained a death grip on her hand while the medics hooked her up to oxygen. They asked Lacy rapid-fire questions, ones Lacy had a hard time answering in the confusion of the moment. Did Riley have gestational diabetes? Had she lost any blood? Was this her first pregnancy? On and on the questions came while Riley moaned and crushed all the bones in Lacy’s right hand.

  “Is she going to make it to the hospital?” she remembered asking at one point.

  “Sure, this could go on for hours,” one EMT said, and Riley started to cry once more.

  “He was kidding,” Lacy said, and she felt on the verge of tears, too. This was terrible. Why would anyone in her right mind have a baby? Riley also appeared to be ch
anging her mind about the whole thing.

  “I don’t want to do this,” she said, her words muffled by the oxygen mask.

  “It’s going to be all right. We’re almost at the hospital and they’ll give you drugs, pretty, pretty drugs,” she said.

  “This far along, they probably won’t,” the helpful EMT said.

  “What is wrong with you?” Lacy snapped. “Shut up.”

  Riley cried harder. Lacy smoothed her hand over her forehead. “This part will be over quickly, and then you’ll have a beautiful, wonderful baby. And soon we’ll know if it’s a boy or a girl. The suspense has been killing me.”

  Her sister smiled a little, so she kept talking, describing all the ways life would be wonderful once labor was over and the baby had arrived. The words poured out; she had no idea what they were. At one point she might have promised that the baby would potty train itself and never cry. Riley didn’t seem to mind. She settled down, stirring only when another contraction hit.

  They arrived at the hospital. Lacy sagged in relief. Finally, she could push her sister onto capable hands and have done with it, but Riley had other ideas.

  “Don’t leave me alone,” she pled, her soft brown eyes red-rimmed and luminous with unshed tears.

  “I’m here for the duration,” Lacy promised. She had to use the bathroom, but that was a small thing compared to the pain Riley was in. And the EMT was right; her labor was too far along for an epidural. Rather, they told her they could give her one, but it might slow labor. Riley was against anything that might draw out the process, so she opted to go without, despite the dizzying amount of pain.

  “Is Tosh coming soon?” she asked between contractions that were now a minute apart.

  “Yes,” Lacy assured her, although she hadn’t heard from him in more than an hour. She hoped that meant he was wheels up and would be there soon, but she couldn’t be sure. The weather was foggy and icy in Chicago. Had he been grounded? She hoped not.

  Their mother arrived soon after.

  “Hi, honey, how’s it going?” Frannie asked.

  “It hurts,” Riley said, tearing up all over again.