Ready, Scrap, Shoot (A Kiki Lowenstein Scrap-N-Craft Mystery)

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  “I understand, but I needed to return these albums. Remember? You loaned them to me. I wanted to thank Deanna.”

  “She can’t come to the door right now. She needs her rest. Folks have been pestering her.” Noticing the package in my hands, he reached out and took the albums from me, but fumbling and dropping them on the porch.

  “Oh, no,” I said as I bent down to retrieve them. Wincing from the way the Kel-Tec jabbed me in the side, I picked up the stack. On top was the photo of Derrick and Deanna with the dead buck.

  I passed them to Derrick, and his eyes caught mine. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck and my heart pounded so hard I thought that surely he’d notice.

  I knew.

  I understood everything. The pieces fell into place. I managed to say, “Thanks so much. I’m sorry for your loss. I bet your sister is really torn up about losing her mother-in-law. Anybody would be.”

  “Right.” Derrick glowered at me.

  “Have a nice day,” I said in the cheeriest voice I could muster. Using all my willpower, I turned toward my car, and walked to it slowly, trying not to break into a run.

  I hadn’t seen Derrick at the May Day ceremony. If he’d attended, he would have been sitting next to Deanna and Peter, because that’s what families did. But Derrick hadn’t been there—although he had been here in town. He said he’d arrived a few days before the ceremony.

  I remembered Deanna screaming for help. If her brother had been standing beside her, she wouldn’t have called out to strangers, would she?

  Ninety

  So her brother hadn’t been with them.

  I phoned Lane Carlée.

  “Hi, Lane,” I chirped. “I thought maybe we could go to lunch tomorrow, and I’ll bring both the Fitzgerald albums. My treat.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Let me treat you. Or more to the point, let CALA buy us both lunch. Tomorrow will be fine.”

  Exactly what I hoped she would say. “All right, if you insist. I hope Deanna likes what I’ve done. I returned her old albums to her.”

  “She didn’t say anything to you? I feel awful that I missed the funeral.” Lane sounded concerned.

  “She wasn’t available so I gave the materials to her brother, Derrick. Have you met him?”

  “Yes, he’s a very nice-looking man, isn’t he?”

  “He sure is. I wonder why he didn’t come to the May Day ceremony. I would think Deanna would want to show him off.”

  “I sure would!” Lane laughed. “Unfortunately he had other plans. Deanna told me he was meeting with an old friend who was going through a rough patch. Under the circumstances, it’s probably for the best. That’s one less person in the family who was traumatized by the tragedy.”

  I bid her goodbye after she promised to email the particulars for our lunch date. I pushed the “end call” button, then phoned Detweiler.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, “How are you? Ready to have this hassle with Bill behind us?”

  “Um, yes, but that’s not why I called. Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “Only a minute. Guess what? Good news! Brenda is coming over to sign the divorce papers.”

  At last we were catching a break. I felt my shoulders relax although I hadn’t realized how much tension I held there. “That’s …

  that’s wonderful. What a relief.”

  For a second, I thought about telling him that I was pregnant. Or at least that I thought I was. But I decided against it. I hadn’t taken a pregnancy test. Considering what we planned for this evening, maybe it was best to keep my personal news to myself. I didn’t want Detweiler to call off our plan. Not when Johnny had put himself in such a precarious position for me.

  So instead of saying, “I’m pregnant,” I said, “I want to share a theory with you. I think Derrick Roper killed Edwina Fitzgerald.”

  “Okay, I give. Who is Derrick Roper?”

  “Deanna Fitzgerald’s brother. See, Peter Fitzgerald was totally ineffective in his job, but he hung in there because he was making so much money.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I have my sources,” I said.

  He chuckled. “I’m well aware that you do. So why would Mrs. Fitzgerald’s brother shoot her husband in the leg? Was he cheating on her? And why take out the older Mrs. Fitzgerald? Or was she collateral damage?”

  “Edwina Fitzgerald ruined her son’s life in order to keep him as part of the family business. But lately, the board of directors has been getting nervous. The board knew that the business couldn’t survive with Peter at the helm. At least it couldn’t survive now, given the economic climate. But if they got rid of him, Peter could never get another job at this level. He and Deanna wouldn’t be able to keep up their standard of living. I bet if you check, there was a board meeting coming up, a meeting when they would be discussing the issue of succession.”

  Detweiler made a “hmm” sound, a noise that showed he was following. He asked, “So Mrs. Deanna Fitzgerald’s brother climbs a tree, shoots Mrs. Edwina Fitzgerald, kills her, and shoots Peter Fitzgerald in the leg … why?”

  “It drew suspicion away from the family. See? Derrick Roper is an excellent marksman. He grew up hunting and shooting to feed the family. That’s why he hit Edwina first with a killing shot. He didn’t miss and hit Peter by accident. That shot to the upper thigh was done on purpose. Get this for irony—the killing occurred during the celebration Edwina adored. In fact, I’d venture to say she loved it more than she loved her family.”

  “I see,” said Detweiler in a thoughtful voice. “Let me check into this, Kiki. But I think you’re onto something. Got to go.”

  Really, as crimes went, it was very nearly perfect.

  Ninety-one

  My mother snored loudly as I pulled into Sheila’s driveway. I decided I’d carry in the food for “Claudia” and Mom’s extra clothes before waking her up. That would give her a little more time to sleep. I’d given her the first pill immediately after I left the drugstore. She wouldn’t need another for six hours.

  I felt an unexpected surge of love for my mother. Curled up, she looked childlike and vulnerable. She hadn’t wanted me, had gotten pregnant with me before her marriage. My presence was a constant reminder of her shame. Once in a fit of anger, she told me how humiliated she’d been by the whole ordeal.

  Something similar had happened to me. But I had wanted Anya. I’d fallen in love with my child even before they settled her in my arms. Everything about her thrilled me, from the tiny curled toes, to the translucent fingernails, to the pulsating top of her head, to the pucker of her sweet pink lips. Anya was perfection.

  Whereas, I had been a painful scarlet letter on my mother’s forehead.

  Still, my mother had done her best. She wasn’t a bad person. She was confused, and she was unhappy, but that said much more about her than it could ever say about me.

  I vowed to redouble my efforts to be a good daughter. I knew I couldn’t please her, but I also knew I didn’t want to look back and regret my behavior. I wanted to be able to live with myself after she was gone.

  That reminded me of what was ahead.

  Robbie Holmes told me that I would be safe during their planned escapade. Detweiler seemed to think so, too. But it was my life, and I would be stupid to cede all responsibility to them. Odd as it seemed, feeling the Kel-Tec at my waist gave me a sense of confidence. I couldn’t imagine using a gun on anyone. Waving it around would have to suffice.

  However, I could wield a mean pair of scissors. That was more my style. I pulled a small pair of orange-handled Fiskar scissors out of my purse. At five inches long and two inches wide, I could palm them and no one would ever know. They weren’t long enough to be lethal, but they were sharp and strong enough to be dangerous. I stuck them in my back pocket.

  Mom snorted in her sleep. A vein pulsed on her hand as the blood moved through her thin skin. I noticed how scarce her hair had gotten and how her shoulders protruded through the fabric of her
blouse.

  Her fragility moved me. All I’d ever wanted was her love, and now she was slipping away from me, moving on without me. If she didn’t notice me soon, see the hunger for love in my eyes, it would be too late.

  But Dr. Terra’s warning came back to me. “For whatever reason, she’s limited in her ability to care about others. Especially if you don’t make her the center of your universe. Love her for herself. Realize she’s limited in what she can give. Try to be content with it.”

  Mom didn’t have the capacity to put other people first. It wasn’t part of her nature. Because she hadn’t shown that concern for me, I grew up unsure how to care for myself. But that was then and this was now. Since George’s death, I’d been forced to become self-reliant.

  I knew better than to count on other people. I would look after myself.

  Ninety-two

  Although she was drowsy, Mom woke up enough to stumble into Sheila’s house and curl up on the sofa in the great room. I preferred not to have any interaction with “Claudia,” so I didn’t call up the stairs to say that we were home. That left me with the task of retrieving Mom’s belongings by myself, but I didn’t mind. Sheila would be back from her nail appointment any second, and she would keep an eye on my mother.

  I popped open the trunk, stuck my head inside, and fished out the bag of clothes. I lifted the lid off the cooler and retrieved “Claudia’s” lunch. My plan was to take these items inside and then try to move Mom upstairs to her bedroom.

  But I didn’t get that far.

  A car pulled into the driveway. I figured it was Sheila, but I was wrong.

  “Put your hands in the air,” said a woman’s voice from behind me. “Or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

  “Okay, Brenda,” I said as I lifted my hands slowly.

  “Keep your hands up and get in the driver’s side of my car,” she said. “We’re going for a little ride.”

  I shook my head. “Shoot me here where I stand, but I’m not getting into a car with you.” I knew the statistics. Victims who are abducted are less likely to survive. I doubted Brenda’s ability to murder me in cold blood, but I wasn’t about to ride around in a car with her.

  “I figured you’d be stubborn. Take a look at this,” she shoved her iPhone into my face.

  I gasped at the image.

  Sheila sat on a metal folding chair. Silver duct tape sealed her mouth. Yards of the stuff strapped her hands and feet to the seat. Most people would have read the look in her eyes as defiant, but I knew her well enough to tell that she was both terrified and ticked.

  My stomach knotted and my knees went weak. I couldn’t imagine any harm coming to her, especially if I were the cause.

  “Either you come along like a good girl, or Sheila gets it.”

  “Gets what? What are you trying to do, Brenda? Have you lost all your marbles? Sheila hasn’t done anything to you.” I really didn’t need this drama. Not now. Sheila would be hopping mad about this, and Brenda was goofing around with the wrong woman. When Robbie Holmes got wind of what happened to his fiancée, he’d throw Brenda’s skinny white bottom into jail faster than she could say, “My bad!”

  By way of response, Brenda shoved a gun into my ribs.

  “Oomph.” I groaned. I looked down to see it was a Kel-Tec.

  Seriously, Detweiler had to start giving better presents. Shoes? Maybe. Flowers? Definitely. Guns? No way.

  “Come on, Brenda. Where is she? You’ve got me now. Let’s drive there and you can let her go. This is between the two of us.”

  I sounded reasonable, but inside I was going nuts. Where was Sheila? How could I find her? Should I pull my gun on Brenda? Would I have time to retrieve the clip and load it? Would that put a scare into Brenda or goad her into shooting me on the spot? Could I force her to tell me where Sheila was?

  “You can’t count, blondie,” snarled Brenda. “There are more than two of us. Tell her hi, Bill.”

  On the phone screen, Bill Ballard stepped behind Sheila. “Hey, Kiki,” he waved to me with a big grin. “Watch this.” He dropped his hands onto Sheila’s throat and squeezed. I could see her face turning red from the pressure and her eyes bulging with the effort of breathing.

  “Stop it! I’m coming. You don’t want her! You want me!” I raced to the driver’s seat of Brenda’s white Camry. The decision had been made for me. Pulling my gun on Brenda might cost Sheila her life.

  Brenda opened the passenger side door and threw herself in. Holding the gun to my ribs, she said, “Give me your cell phone.”

  I reached into my purse, fished around, and found it.

  Brenda threw it out her window. “Take 40 and go across the river.”

  I groaned inwardly. That would take us into Illinois. Robbie Holmes would have no jurisdiction. Brenda’s father would have friends there. Detweiler could come after us, but he’d have no backup available. Johnny was nowhere to be found.

  I was sunk.

  Ninety-three

  I’d been car-napped before by Bill, but back then he forced me to drive to Babler Woods where the hilly road gave me a chance to escape. There was no way I could free myself on Highway 40, which is really Highway 64, but not according to the locals. With its multitude of lanes, the zooming pace of traffic, and its newly revamped entrance and exit ramps that fed more cars onto the pavement faster, the best I could hope for was a gigantic multi-car crash to divert us.

  I was desperate, but I’m no fool. I had no right to endanger the lives of innocent people as I fought for my own.

  There would have to be some other way.

  But how? What? When? Where? I went over my options and came up dry.

  Brenda yakked on and on, happily, telling me that she and Chad Detweiler belonged together. “Sure, I threw him out,” she said, “but he knew I didn’t mean it. He loves me. Always has. Always will. He was just fooling with you.”

  She was so high, she was out of her mind. I didn’t bother to argue with her. As my Nana once said, “Never try to teach a pig to sing. You’ll annoy the pig and lose your voice.” Fussing with Brenda wouldn’t help my situation.

  “Um, how did you wind up working with Bill?” I asked when I couldn’t take much more of the “Chad loves me and only me” baloney.

  “He contacted me. He’d heard about you and Chad. He knows you are trying to ruin our marriage. He’s decided you need to pay for how you messed up his life, too. You really are a slut, Kiki. Everyone agrees. Even Chad’s sisters. They have no use for you. None.”

  Ouch. That hurt. I hadn’t met Detweiler’s sisters, and now I doubted that I ever would. His parents had been very nice, but maybe that had been a pretense of civility.

  “You have the morals of an alley cat, Kiki,” said Brenda. “You’re really disgusting. Bill thinks so, too.”

  Wasn’t that just ducky? The man who cheated my husband, snuck around on his pregnant wife, and killed his lover had problems with my morals? The woman who had a drug addiction, threw her husband out, and then abused me was calling me names?

  All I could do was take it. I thanked my lucky stars that Mom was safe in Sheila’s house. I sent up prayers of gratitude that Anya had elected to stay after school and work on a science project. As for Sheila? Once Bill had me, he could let her go. She’d be honked off, and Robbie Holmes would make Bill pay, but she’d be okay.

  Or would she?

  With a jolt, I realized: Bill couldn’t let her go. He had too much at stake.

  “Brenda, you don’t want to be involved in this. When Bill kidnapped Sheila, he crossed a line. You do realize she’s engaged to marry Police Chief Robbie Holmes, don’t you? He will hunt you both down. But if you make sure she’s freed, he’ll put in a good word for you.”

  Brenda laughed as she twisted a piece of oily hair around her finger. “I didn’t kidnap Sheila. Johnny Chambers did that.”

  I struggled not to show my surprise. Fortunately, she kept talking.

  “There’s no way anyone can prove I was in
volved. You got into this car by yourself. No one can put me with Sheila. All I have to do is drop you off.”

  “Um, where is Johnny right now?”

  “He’s with Bill. Johnny’s got a real hate-on going for you. Even his sister is angry at you. He says she wants to wring your neck.”

  I fought tears, struggling against the burning lump in my throat. Whatever happened next, I hoped that Mert would learn I hadn’t meant to hurt Johnny. That my actions had been part of a plan, and that he’d agreed to it. I couldn’t stand the idea of Mert thinking I’d betrayed her. She’d been my best friend for years. If something happened to me, I wanted Mert to continue to be a part of Anya’s life. How could that happen under the current circumstances?

  I sniffled.

  Brenda saw the effort I was making not to cry. “Yeah, that’s right. You’ve done it now. I got in trouble with my supervisor for what happened in the hospital. Did you know that? You love creating problems for people, don’t you? Well, you’re finally getting your comeuppance. Guess what Bill plans to do with you?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, and I didn’t.

  A peace settled over me. This was the end. I was tired, so tired. I hadn’t been sleeping well. Dodie’s quick acceptance of my resignation hurt. I’d had morning sickness and the inevitable exhaustion that followed. I dreaded telling Detweiler that I might be pregnant. I felt bad for my daughter. If I was gone, she wouldn’t have to put up with my mother. As long as Sheila went free, Anya would be taken care of. Sheila could parent Anya. I’d named her my daughter’s legal guardian months ago. Sheila had the funds to take good care of Anya, and with her upcoming marriage to Robbie Holmes, Anya would have a surrogate father. However, if both of us died, my sister Amanda could claim custody—and Amanda didn’t have any experience raising a child. Anya would have to move to Arizona, and that would surely break her heart.

  I had to rescue Sheila. No matter what the cost to me.