Then There Were None (Matt Foley/Sara Bradford series Book 2)

by V. B. Tenery

  Emily shook her head.

  Two squad cars and an ambulance squealed into a semi-circle around Emily’s Mini Cooper. Despite her assurances that she was fine, a pair of EMT’s began taking her vitals after they confirmed the death of the shooting victim. One of them pressed his fingers on her side and she winced. She would have a nasty bruise on her ribs where the gunman had jammed the pistol barrel into her side.

  A tall shadow fell between Emily and the streetlights. She looked up to see Chief Foley staring down at her. “You okay?”

  The medic removed the blood pressure cuff from her arm. “I’m shaky, but uninjured. How did you get here so fast?”

  “I was on my way home and heard the officer involved shooting report.”

  Her hand trembled as she brushed her hair off her face. “My life used to be so quiet.”

  Matt asked the same question the officer asked. “Did you know the guy? Ever seen him before?”

  She shook her head. “No. Never.”

  Matt placed his hand on the ambulance and glanced down at her. “He couldn’t be the Grayson shooter?”

  She tried to stand, felt a little wobbly and sat back down. “No. The man who shot me wasn’t Hispanic. I think I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Maybe,” Matt said. “Just to be safe, from now on, you are not to leave home without an escort. If Ian or Alexander can’t go with you, call me. I’ll send someone.”

  Ian Hamilton walked up behind Matt, his face dark and somber. “I’ll see to that.” He placed his hand on Emily’s shoulder. “I’ll take her home. Alex and I will pick up her car later.”

  “How did you find out…?” she asked.

  He inclined his head toward Matt. “He called me when he recognized your car.”

  As she and Ian pulled out of the mall parking lot, her gaze followed two police officers searching a white SUV. Was this guy the one who had followed her to school and back home today? She’d have to remember to mention that to Matt.

  Awareness suddenly hit her. It wasn’t a random abduction attempt. She had been the target.

  Grayson Manor

  Twin Falls, Texas

  Perkins met them at the door, followed closely by Alexander. “What happened?”

  “Let me get her inside and I’ll explain everything,” Ian caught Perkin’s eye. “Can you bring some strong tea to the library?” He turned to Emily. “Would you rather have dinner in your room?”

  “No,” Emily said and placed her hand on Ian’s arm. “You must stop treating me like a child. I’m a grown woman and I’m not shaken. I’m mad. Twice in the past ten days, someone has tried to kill me, and I don’t like it. I wouldn’t be able to sleep now if you gave me a horse tranquilizer.”

  She patted the butler’s shoulder. “Don’t bother with tea. I’ll see about dinner in a little while.”

  Ian held up both hands and backed off.

  She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings.

  “So which one of you is going to tell me what happened?” Alex asked.

  Ian inclined his head toward Emily.

  Keeping it brief, she related the attempted kidnapping.

  Alex looked from Emily to Ian. “The assailant is dead?”

  They nodded in unison.

  Alex came to her side and pulled her into a gentle hug. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  His hazel eyes sent a message of concern and something else she didn’t understand.

  “Thank you, Alex.” She turned down the hall toward the kitchen. Ian meant well, but he would just have to deal with the fact she was stronger than she looked. Even though at the moment, she felt like chum in a sea full of sharks.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Alice Springs

  North Territory, Australia

  The plane came to a smooth stop on the tarmac late in the afternoon. Miles Davis and Lucy Turner disembarked and headed into the terminal.

  A crowd of tourists jostled Miles and his luggage as he cut a path to the information desk. Airports were the same the world over. Only the smells and the nationality of the people changed.

  He waited patiently while the clerk checked a list of hired drivers and made a phone call. Twenty minutes later, a short, stocky man, with blurry-eyes and a swagger approached them. His tan Aussie hat was turned up on one side and he wore a grin missing a few teeth. He stuck out his hand. “Me name’s Dan Dobbins. Where’re you and the Missus headed?”

  Davis gave the man’s hand a firm clasp and scrutinized him for a long moment. “We’re not married. We’re detectives from the States. We’ll be staying locally. Our first stop will be at the police station. You know where that is?”

  Dobbins nodded. “Yanks, eh? Well, yep, I know the station like the back of me hand.”

  Not what Davis wanted to hear.

  While Dobbins put their luggage in the trunk, Turner leaned close and murmured, “He isn’t exactly my idea of a chauffeur.”

  Miles shrugged. “He came highly recommended by the airport information clerk.”

  Turner whispered, “He’s probably a relative.”

  They loaded into the back of the ancient Land Rover and Dobbins pulled away from the curb moving expertly through the busy traffic heading into the city. He kept up a steady patter pointing out local sites. Davis leaned back in the seat, a little more comfortable with the man.

  “I’m surprised at Alice Springs,” Turner said, taking in the scenery through the window.

  Davis cast a quizzical glance at her. “What surprises you?”

  “I expected a small town with wood buildings, Aborigines carrying spears and wearing loin cloths.”

  “To be honest, it surprises me that it’s such a modern city,” Davis said. “The airport tourist brochure listed twenty-five hotels and a cultural center.”

  Soon, Dobbins pulled up in front of the police station and parked near the entrance. Welcoming cool air greeted their entrance into the two-story brick building. A young Aborigine, with a nametag imprinted Ned Milpurrur, greeted them with a bright, toothy smile.

  “How can I help you, mates?”

  Davis flashed a smile. “I’m Miles Davis, and this is my partner, Lucy Turner.” Davis presented his badge. “We’re here unofficially, to check into the background of one of your citizens for a murder case back in the States. We would also appreciate any information you can give us on the death of Trevor Nelson. He died about nine months ago in an accident on the Katherine River.”

  Ned scrutinized Davis’ credentials. “Twin Falls, Texas. Never heard of that.”

  “It’s about twenty-five miles east of Dallas.”

  “Now that I’ve heard of.” He gave Davis back his badge and ID. “The Katherine is between here and Darwin. Can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can find.”

  He took down the information on Nelson and said he’d call if he found anything, then looked up Alexander Grayson’s address, and recommended a hotel.

  At the Desert Palms Resort, Davis booked two individual villas for them. They hurried to their rooms and changed, wanting Dobbins to drive them to Alexander Grayson’s residence before dark.

  Turner’s face shone with excitement when she met him in the lobby. “Did you get a look at the pool? My room has a bougainvillea-covered veranda. Can you believe it? Who would have guessed you could find a tropical setting and a waterfall here, and I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

  Davis smiled. Turner hadn’t experienced many of the finer things in life. He didn’t know her story, but it probably wasn’t pretty. “I hate to burst your bubble, Turner, but we won’t have time to enjoy this place.”

  She expelled a deep breath from her lungs. “Yeah, I know. But it would be nice. I’d love to bring my boys to a place like this. ”

  Dobbins picked them up in front of the hotel and drove them to Alexander Grayson’s home. The house was a well-kept, unpretentious white frame one-story, the lawn trimmed and green with a for sale sign near the curb. A couple of
trees shaded the left side of the house and a small patio in back.

  The driver waited while Davis and Turner questioned the neighbors. Comments mirrored those in Sydney. Except for one thing. They left with the name and address of Grayson’s housekeeper, a young woman named Bridget Murphy.

  The air inside the Land Rover blew a little too warm. The car’s cooling system struggled against the outside temperature of 106ºF, 41ºC. Although the same, the Aussie’s Celsius system sounded cooler.

  A twenty-minute drive to the other side of town brought them to a small house, similar to Grayson’s, with a neat lawn and colorful flower boxes under the windows.

  Davis had just reached to knock on the door when it flew open. Two identical flashes of red lightning flew past them, followed by a pretty, plump woman with the same red hair. “You two can run, but you can’t hide. You’re gonna get hungry and you’ll have to come home some time. And when you do, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Seeing the two strangers, her face flushed. “I may have to murder the two of ‘em before they get grown.”

  “Are you Bridget Murphy?” Turner asked.

  The woman smoothed her hair back with one hand and straightened her apron. “Yes, I’m Bridget. How can I help you?”

  Davis flashed his ID. “We understand you kept house for Alexander Grayson. We’d like to ask you some questions, if we may.”

  “Certainly. Come inside. It will be a bit cooler and I’ll make you some tea. You’re Yanks, aren’t you?”

  “Yes ma’am, we’re here in an unofficial capacity. We have a case back in the States we’re trying to solve.”

  “I love your accents,” Bridget said. “Have you had breakfast?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Davis said. “We ate at the hotel.”

  “I was about to have some baked beans and toast. Why don’t you join me? Call it a mid-morning snack.”

  Turner’s brows knitted. “Pardon me. Did you say beans and toast? For breakfast?”

  “I did, indeed. Don’t tell me you don't do baked beans on toast? I insist you join me. It’ll be an Aussie experience.”

  Bridget led them through a frilly living room into a small, spotless kitchen. “We’ll eat in here, so I can keep an eye on my two scamps.”

  The pretty Irish lass busied herself with the meal while she talked. She pulled a large can of baked beans from the cupboard, poured it into a saucepan, turned on the fire underneath, then popped bread into the toaster. “Your case involves Mister Alexander? He’s a fine young man. I hope he’s not in any trouble. I’ve taken care of his home for the past five years. My boys were only toddlers when I started.”

  She filled three cups with tea and placed them on the table. “His friend, Trevor, lived with him. They weren’t home a lot. Off in the bush somewhere most of the time. Wasn’t no problem keeping house for them. Do you know about Mr. Trevor?”

  She shook her head and her smile disappeared. “He died some time back in a terrible accident. Mr. Alexander seemed that upset, he did. Those two were inseparable. Like two peas in a pod, they were.”

  When the beans were steamy, she placed cheese on the toast, poured the beans over the cheese, and placed the plates on the table with a bottle of Tabasco. “Enjoy.”

  “Trevor Nelson died in an accident?” Davis took a bite and swallowed. Not something he would want for breakfast everyday but it wasn’t bad.

  Turner gave the beans a douse of Tabasco and took a bite. “Very tasty, ma’am.”

  “That’s right.” Bridget smiled her thanks. “He died ‘bout eight or nine months back, maybe more.”

  “Did you go to the funeral?” Turner asked.

  “Wasn’t any funeral, leastways not around here. They didn’t recover his body. There may have been a memorial service in Sydney or somewhere else. Mr. Alexander had a place there as well. Mr. Trevor didn’t have any family. His dad died last year.”

  “When did you last see Mr. Grayson?” Davis asked.

  “I haven’t seen him since the accident. He never returned to the house. He called me from Darwin and told me about his poor friend. Said he intended to sell the house and furnishings.”

  Davis took another bite of the beans and toast and pushed his plate aside. “Do you still have a key? We’d like to look around if we may.”

  “You’re welcome to look around, but you won’t find anything. He asked me to clean out all the personal items and get it ready for the realtor, which I did. Told me to take any of the china and linens I wanted. Didn’t want to bother with moving them.”

  She pushed a red lock from her brow. “It was a kind gift. The china and linens were good quality. I packed everything into boxes and put them in the storeroom out back. I included Mr. Trevor’s things there also since Mr. Alex didn’t give me instructions as to how to dispose of them. He didn’t leave a number where I could reach him.”

  Davis leaned forward. “May we look through the cartons? We’ll put everything back exactly as we found it.”

  “Sure. I don’t know what you hope to find, but since Mr. Alexander gave it to me, I don’t think he would mind. I warn you, it’s terrible hot in that storeroom. You might like to start early in the morning when it’s a little cooler.”

  Davis thanked her for the hospitality. “We’ll see you at eight, if that’s okay.”

  A large smile spread across her face. “Sure. That’ll be fine.”

  As they walked through the living room, Turner stopped by a framed picture on a shelf by the door.

  Noticing her interest, Bridget said. “That’s a picture of the two gentlemen. My boys were always fascinated by Mr. Trevor’s camera, and he let them take this snapshot one afternoon. He developed it and gave the boys a copy.”

  The photo was a black and white of two men standing side by side, smiling into the camera’s lens. Davis’ gaze skimmed the photograph, and he glanced over at Turner. Bridget noticed the eye contact between them and smiled. “Everybody saw the resemblance right away. Folks around here couldn’t tell them apart, except Mr. Alex wore his hair longer. Folks thought they were twins.”

  They arrived back at the hotel around six-thirty. “Meet me downstairs in forty-five minutes and we’ll try one of the local restaurants. Did you bring a dress?”

  She laughed. “Yes my one good all-occasion simple black dress.”

  “Put it on. We can check out the casino next door after we eat.”

  “I don’t have the money to gamble, Davis. I see money as food in my kid’s mouths.”

  “I’ll spot you fifty. If you win you can pay me back, if not, no worries.”

  After dinner, they walked over to Lasseters Casino.

  “Since you’ve never gambled, Turner, you should probably stick with the slot machines or roulette. You want me to stay with you?”

  “No, I’m good. I’ll just walk around and watch for a while.”

  Just before midnight, many dollars poorer, Davis went looking for his partner and found her surrounded by three men at the roulette table.

  He walked up beside her and laughed. “I see you didn’t miss me. You ready to leave?”

  She waved to the guys teaching her how to play roulette and walked out with him.

  “How’d you do?” Davis asked.

  She reached into her pocket and handed him one dollar. “Easy come, easy go. This is why I don’t gamble.”

  Alice Springs,

  North Territory, Australia

  Dobbins dropped them in front of the Murphy residence early the next morning. Davis had forgone fashion for comfort and dressed in a short sleeved cotton shirt and shorts. His partner had selected a t-shirt and Capri pants.

  Davis pushed the bell, and Bridget answered immediately.

  He pointed at the back of the house. “Just checking in with you, ma’am. We’ll be out back if you need us. Is it locked?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve already unlocked it for you.”

  The hinges gave a raspy squeak when Davis swung the storage door open
, and the musky smell of old cardboard and dirt assailed his nose, followed by a blast of hot air. Davis mumbled under his breath. “And I thought South Texas was hot.”

  He scanned the neatly stacked boxes. Bridget had stored cartons belonging to Alexander and Trevor on the left side, away from her personal things.

  He glanced over at Turner. “Let’s move the cartons onto the pavement out here.” He pointed to the left. “It’ll be cooler working in the open.”

  Davis slid over a box, sat on it, and pulled another one close. He opened the flaps exposing the contents. It didn’t look promising. Wall hangings, vases, and some carved native figurines.

  Turner followed his example. “What exactly are we looking for?”

  Perspiration rolled down Davis’ neck, making his shirt stick to his back. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

  The tedious job lagged on, but by eleven o’clock they had searched through most of the cartons, repacked, and returned them to the shed.

  They skipped a few other cartons with photo props and old film. Nothing of interest there. A little after eleven, Bridget’s twin boys peeked at them from a safe distance away. When Davis caught their eye, they giggled and vanished.

  He waited for their next appearance and waved them closer. They hesitated, but curiosity got the best of them. One in a green shirt, the other in blue. Green shirt inched closer, eyes wide and a slight grin on his freckled face.

  Davis wiped his brow. “How would you two like fish and chips for lunch?”

  Both heads bobbed.

  “Go ask your mom. If it’s okay with her, we’ll provide lunch for the Murphy clan.”

  Minutes later, Bridget appeared at the door. “Fish and chips would be grand, but you don’t need to do that. I can make sandwiches and tea.”

  “We’ve acquired a taste for your local finger food.” He waved a hand at the boxes. “And we’d like to show our appreciation for your hospitality.”

  Her cheeks dimpled. “Then I certainly can’t say no. The boys would have a fit.”