Killer Investigation

by Amanda Stevens

“Well, it is just a theory.” He spun her unexpectedly. Arden had to concentrate to keep up.

  “You knew my grandmother well,” she said. “She never confided in you?”

  “Evelyn kept things close to the vest. She wasn’t the type to air dirty laundry even among friends. I don’t pretend to know what went on in this house before she divorced Clement, but I can say with utter confidence that she would have done anything to protect her family. You and your mother were everything to her.”

  “What about her son?”

  “As I said, Calvin is a strange fellow. Always has been.” A frown flickered as if he’d thought of something unpleasant. “I was surprised to hear that you’d moved back to Charleston. I thought you were done with this city for good. Maybe that would have been for the best.”

  “For Reid’s sake?”

  He hesitated. “For your own. These are troubling times. Reid has gotten himself into something of a bind, it seems. It would be a shame if you became entangled in that mess, too.”

  “You surely don’t think he had anything to do with Haley Cooper’s murder.”

  A shadow flitted across his expression. “Of course, I don’t. But he put himself into a position of being blackmailed by the likes of Dave Brody. A man in Reid’s position has to be more careful. Someone like Brody is always looking to take advantage.”

  “Maybe Brody isn’t the real problem,” Arden said. “He claims someone powerful is trying to frame Reid. Maybe that same person paid Haley to spike Reid’s drink.”

  Boone froze for half a beat. “What are you talking about?”

  “Reid didn’t tell you? She slipped something into his drink that night at the bar. Why would she do that to a perfect stranger unless someone paid her? From what I understand, she liked the finer things in life.”

  “She wasn’t—”

  “She wasn’t what?”

  “Nothing.”

  No sooner had the conversation fizzled than something the shop owner had revealed came back to Arden. Haley had been seeing someone older, someone wealthy. Someone who guarded his privacy. Because he was married?

  She told herself she was being ridiculous. Any number of men in the city fit that description, many of them here at the ball. Boone Sutton was a lot of things, but he was no murderer.

  How do you know?

  Her gaze met her uncle’s again, moved on and then came back. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her, and no wonder—he’d painted her mother in this very dress.

  Suddenly the walls started to close in and Arden wished she’d heeded Reid’s warning. Coming here tonight had been a very bad idea.

  The music ended, but Boone’s arm seemed to tighten around her waist. “Something wrong?”

  “No, of course, not.” Arden backed away. “Thank you for the dance, but I think I’ll go find Reid now.”

  She wandered through the house, avoiding anyone who looked familiar while she searched for Reid. The terrace doors in the library were open and she stepped through, scanning the silhouettes that lingered in the garden. A cool breeze blew in from the harbor, stirring her hair and fanning her dress. She turned to go back inside, but someone blocked her path.

  Her heart beat a startled tattoo as she stared up at her grandfather. He had always intimidated and unsettled her; however, she was a grown woman now. No reason to fear him.

  “Grandfather,” she said on a breath. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

  He said nothing for the longest moment, just stood there in the dark staring down at her.

  “I’m looking for Reid,” she said. “Have you seen him?”

  “I have not.”

  His voice was like a cold wind down her back, devoid of warmth or affection. Hard to believe that he had actually warned Reid away from her. Why would he even care?

  “This is quite an event.” She waved a hand toward the terrace doors. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

  “As have you.”

  She suspected he was talking about the dress, and she pretended not to understand. “I was surprised to hear that you were hosting the Mayor’s Ball this year. Somehow it doesn’t seem your kind of thing.”

  Moonlight reflected off his glasses as he tilted his head slightly. “And just what is my kind of thing?”

  “You never used to like company, much less a crowd. But then, I’ve been away for a long time. People change, I suppose.”

  “You haven’t. This is exactly the kind of stunt you would have pulled as a child. You’re an adult now. I had high hopes that you would outgrow your unseemly tendencies. But you’re too much like your mother. Evelyn always had to be the center of the universe. You apparently have her morals, too.”

  A chill shot down Arden’s backbone. “Evelyn was my grandmother. I’m Arden.”

  “Go home, girl. Don’t come back until you’ve learned how to dress and behave like a lady.”

  “Grandfather—”

  A commotion from inside the house drew their attention. Arden trailed her grandfather inside as he headed toward the raised voices. The music had stopped and everyone seemed suspended in shock. Arden followed their gazes. Detective Graham and two uniformed cops had surrounded Reid.

  Arden rushed toward them. “What’s going on?”

  One of the officers put up his hand. “Stand back, miss.”

  “Reid?”

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” he said in a calm voice. “Detective Graham has a few questions that apparently can only be answered at police headquarters.”

  “This couldn’t have waited until the morning?” Clement demanded.

  The two men exchanged glances.

  The detective said in a conciliatory tone, “My apologies for the disturbance. We felt this a matter of some urgency.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you did.” Boone materialized at Arden’s side. “I’m sure the urgency had nothing at all to do with the press being here tonight or the fact that your picture will likely be on the front page of the newspaper tomorrow.”

  The detective’s expression had grown cold with contempt. “I’m just doing my job.”

  “Is he under arrest?”

  “We just have a few questions.”

  Boone turned to Reid. “Don’t say a word. Not one word. You hear me?”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Reid said. “Let’s just get this over with. No need to ruin everyone else’s evening.”

  They all traipsed outside to a waiting squad car. After another few minutes of discussion, Reid willingly climbed into the back and the car pulled away. Boone waited for the valet service to fetch his car while Arden called a cab.

  “I hope you called that cab to take you home,” Boone said.

  “Of course not. I’m going to police headquarters.”

  “That’s not a good idea. You heard the detective. Reid isn’t under arrest. Let’s make sure we keep it that way.”

  “Someone is trying to set him up,” Arden said. “We can’t let that happen.”

  “Which is why I need you to do something for me.” He pulled her away from the crowd that had assembled on the steps and lowered his voice. “Go to Reid’s place right now and make sure everything is clean.”

  Arden frowned up at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “Use your head. You think a dirty cop like Graham is above planting evidence?”

  “But—” Arden started to protest being sidelined. If nothing else, she wanted to offer Reid her moral support. Then she thought of the note that had been left in his closet by the intruder. What if Graham had somehow managed to plant the murder weapon inside Reid’s house?

  She swallowed back her panic and nodded. “Okay. But you take care of this. You get him out of there, you hear me?”

  * * *

  ARDEN HAD THE DRIVER drop her off at the end of the block, a
nd she hurried along the shadowy street to Reid’s house. Glancing over her shoulder, she let herself in and locked the door behind her. She moved quickly from room to room, drawing the blinds at all the front windows before she turned on the lights.

  She started the task in his office and worked her way through the house, combing the obvious places and then looking for more obscure hiding places. When a third search turned up nothing, she had the unsettling notion that maybe evidence had been planted elsewhere. Someplace less likely yet still incriminating, like the summerhouse at Berdeaux Place.

  She called another cab and paced the front porch until the car arrived. Five minutes later she was home. She let herself in, locked the door behind her and turned off the security system. Then she headed through the parlor to the French doors.

  Her hand froze on the latch. Her mother’s cereus had bloomed during the evening. Someone had cut off every last flower and chopped the petals to bits with her grandmother’s antique katana.

  Shredded them in a rage, Arden thought.

  The katana had been tossed aside in the grass. The sword had been in its usual place when Arden and Reid had left for the ball. Someone had been inside the house. How was that possible? The alarm had been set, the front door locked tight...

  She whirled, her focus moving across the room to the foyer. Someone was coming down the stairs, slowly, deliberately, taking his time as he anticipated the encounter...

  Arden reacted on instinct. She went out the French doors and grabbed the katana. The lush, heady fragrance of the destroyed blooms filled her nostrils. The moon was up, flooding the terrace and garden with hazy light. She dove for the shadows, concealing herself as best she could as she rushed toward the side entrance. The wrought-iron gate had been padlocked from the other side and the low-hanging limb that she had once used to propel herself over the wall had long since been cut away.

  She was trapped in the garden. No way out except to go back through the house.

  Whirling, she moved down the path toward the summerhouse. She couldn’t hide there, of course. He would surely look for her inside. She broke off a sprig of jasmine and tossed it to the ground and then another. Deliberate breadcrumbs. Then she plunged deep into the shadowy jungle of her grandmother’s garden and hunkered down out of sight.

  He came along the path, calling out to her. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

  Arden pressed herself back into the bushes, clapping a hand over her mouth to silence her breath. She knew who he was now. Knew why the Twilight Killer had come back for her.

  “Did you really think you could keep me out of Berdeaux Place by changing the locks?” he called. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have my own way in without tripping the alarm? I know every square inch of that house. Every nook and cranny. Every single one of your little hiding places.”

  Her uncle was at the summerhouse steps now. He climbed the stairs slowly, a kitchen knife glinting in his hand. He turned at the top and surveyed the garden before ducking inside. Arden shifted her weight, positioning herself to make a dash for the house, but he came back out too quickly, pausing again on the steps as his gaze seemed to zero in on her hiding place.

  “I used to come here all the time after Mother left me. I’d sneak inside and stand at Camille’s bedside while she slept. Mother caught me once. She told Father, and the next day he sent me away to boarding school. Military school came next and then university. They did what they could to keep us separated. Did you know that’s why Mother took Camille away from Mayfair House? She was afraid for her. Afraid of me. Her own son.”

  Arden was trembling now, picturing him creeping through the house. Watching her mother sleep. Watching her.

  “That night when I saw her in the garden wearing the red dress, I knew it had to be her. She would be my first. The waiting became unbearable so I came back a few days later and did what I had to do. You saw me that night, here in the summerhouse. I left a magnolia blossom just for you. Do you remember?”

  Arden clutched the handle of her grandmother’s sword. She’d put her bag down with her phone when she first came in. She couldn’t call Reid or the police for help. She was on her own. She had to somehow get inside the house. Lock the doors. Find her phone...

  But what good would that do when he had a secret way in?

  “I have something else for you tonight,” he said. “I know you can see me. I know you’re close. I can hear your heartbeat. Can you hear mine?”

  Yes, yes, there it was, a throbbing that filled her senses until she wanted to press her hands to her ears and scream. She knew on some level that it was her own heartbeat thudding in her ears, and yet she could have sworn the cacophony filled the garden just as it had on the night of her mother’s death.

  “Look what I have for you, Arden.”

  She peered through the bushes, wanting to glance away but mesmerized by the red magnolia petals he scattered across the summerhouse steps. The breeze lifted one and carried it toward her. The crimson kiss of death.

  “That night was magical,” he said. “So thrilling I can hardly believe it actually happened. The others that came afterward were just pale imitations. I thought I’d never again experience such ecstasy until you walked into Mayfair House tonight wearing that red dress.” He came down the steps and stood in the moonlight, staring through the bushes straight at her. “Come out, Arden. Come see what else I have for you.”

  She stood, hiding the katana in the folds of her gown. “You killed my mother. You killed all those other women, leaving their children motherless, and then you let an innocent man rot in prison for your crimes.”

  “I’m a Mayfair,” he said, as if that were the only explanation needed.

  He moved toward her slowly, a cat closing in on his prey. Arden stood her ground, gripping the handle of the hidden weapon until he was almost upon her. He pounced, more quickly than she had anticipated. She swung the katana, slicing him across the lower rib cage, wounding but not felling him. He staggered back, eyes wild, expression contorted as he gripped his side and took several deep breaths.

  Arden sprinted away from him, nearly tripping as the bushes caught the gossamer layers of her dress. She kicked off her shoes and ran barefoot toward the house, spurred on by fear and pure adrenaline. She had almost made it to the terrace when he tackled her from behind and she landed face-first on the stone pathway.

  Dazed and breathless, she tried to fight him off. The blood from his wound soaked her dress and dripped onto the grass as he pulled her deeper into the garden, to the exact spot where he had taken her mother’s life.

  She’d lost the katana, Arden realized. She dug her fingernails into the ground, trying to stop his momentum, while on and on he dragged her. She kicked and writhed, but he seemed to have supernatural strength. Bloodlust drove him. Years and years of pent up rage and resentment.

  Pinning her arms with his knees, he rose over her, backlit by the moon. He gazed down at her as he must have stared down at her mother. He lifted the knife overhead, preparing for a thrust that would take her life just as he had taken her mother’s.

  She heard voices. Someone called out her name. A shadow appeared in the garden and then another.

  One of the shadows tackled her uncle, knocking him back into the bushes. The two men fought viciously. The knife struck home, slashing Reid’s arm. He grunted in pain and grabbed Calvin’s wrist, holding the weapon at bay. Arden looked around desperately for the katana. She grabbed it, stumbled forward. Before she could strike, a shot rang out. Her uncle froze for a split second and then he toppled backward to the ground, his eyes open as he stared blindly at the moon.

  Arden rushed to Reid’s side, checking his wound and holding him close. They both gazed up at Boone Sutton, who still clutched his weapon. He said to no one in particular, “Sometimes the mad dog has to be put down.”

  Then he turned and walked away, givin
g them a moment of privacy before the police descended once again on Berdeaux Place.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Orson Lee Finch will soon be a free man,” Reid said the next day as he reclined back in his chair. His feet were propped on his desk, his arm in a sling. Everything considered, he looked cool and collected.

  Arden was seated in the chair opposite his desk. She was still strung out from the night’s events and from the hours she’d spent at police headquarters. It would take a long time before she felt normal again, but at least something good had come from tragedy. “I read that his daughter and grown grandchildren will be there to greet him when he walks through the gate. I can hardly imagine what they all must be feeling right now. If only I’d recognized my uncle that night. If only I’d been able to stop him.”

  “None of this is your fault,” Reid said.

  “I know. I was just a child when Mother died. Whatever I saw that night... I couldn’t make sense of it.”

  “Boone knew. Or at least he suspected. That’s why he helped Ginger Vreeland leave town. Calvin had roughed her up, and she was afraid he’d come back and kill her. He says he told the police, but Clement Mayfair is a powerful man. You don’t go after his son unless you have irrefutable proof.”

  “Grandmother knew, too,” Arden said. “That’s why she took my mother away from that house. Why she left her son behind. She knew even then what he was.”

  “What a terrible thing to have to live with,” Reid said.

  “She was never the same after my mother’s death. None of us were.” Arden fell silent. “Why do you think he killed Haley Cooper? She wasn’t a single mother. She didn’t fit his usual profile. Why her?”

  Reid shrugged. “We can only speculate. She’d had a brief relationship with Boone. Calvin probably used her and Dave Brody to set me up. It was never about a conviction. He wanted to cast doubt on my father’s character so that if he came forward with his suspicions, it would seem as though he was casting aspersions to clear his own son.”

  “My uncle must have started planning this as soon as he heard I was coming back.”