Sentenced to Death
Page 28
Katie’s anger flared as she noted the sledgehammer resting against the wall. “Are you doing all the work yourself?”
“Just the preliminary demolition,” Toby said, reaching for another pizza slice. “It’ll save us three or four grand that we can better use elsewhere.”
“There’s a certain satisfaction in taking down a wall, especially when you can already visualize how perfect the space will be,” Janice said. She laughed. “I’ve spent the last few months decorating this house in my mind. I can’t wait until opening day when I can show it off to the world.”
Katie, too, had imagined exactly how she’d renovate the old house. Replacement newel posts for the staircase, frosted glass sconces on the walls, delicate rose-patterned wallpaper, chair rails, and crown molding. For years she’d longed to swing a sledge and take out an extraneous wall or two.
She picked up and hefted the tool, nearly staggering under its weight. “Would you mind if I took a whack at that wall—just for fun?”
“Go for it,” Toby said, grinning. He put down his pizza, grabbed a pair of work gloves, and accompanied Katie to the wall.
“I’d better cover the pizza,” Janice said.
“We’re taking down the plasterboard first, then we’ll yank out the studs. It’s not a load-bearing wall,” Toby said, handing Katie the gloves and a pair of safety glasses.
That she already knew. Many an evening she’d pored over how-to books in anticipation of applying her own brand of sweat equity to the place.
Toby or Janice had already removed the baseboard molding at the bottom of the wall, leaving a three-inch gap that had never seen a coat of paint. An odd, gummy dark stain marred the middle of that section of pristine plasterboard.
Katie donned the gloves and glasses, grasped the sledge firmly, swung it high, and let its weight slam against the wall. Bang! A circular dimple marred the surface, but not enough to make a break in the drywall.
“Put your weight into it,” Toby encouraged with a smile.
Clenching her teeth, Katie hauled off and swung again. Bang!
The anger blossomed inside her, threatening to engulf her.
This should have been her house!
Bang!
It would have been hers if Chad hadn’t invested—without her knowledge—in that money pit Artisans Alley.
Bang!
The sledge careened through the air, smacking hard into the wall, taking a jagged hunk of plasterboard with it.
Katie swung again and again, her biceps complaining at the strain. Clouds of dust swirled in the air.
Hands on hips, Toby watched from her left. “You’re doing great, Katie.” He didn’t sound as pleased as he had a few moments before.
Katie took another mighty swing, sending a fragment of plasterboard flying. She paused to yank a loose piece from the studs.
Janice gasped behind her.
Katie lost her grip on the sledge, nearly crushing her toes. She turned to see what Janice was fussing about.
Openmouthed and panting, a wide-eyed Janice frantically pointed at the gaping hole in the wall.
Confused, Katie turned to see the source of her distress.
Behind a heavy layer of plastic, empty eye sockets gazed at nothing; the jaw hung open as though in a scream. The remains of long blond hair were suspended like Easter grass among the bones, and a shiny silver locket dangled from the proximity of its neck.
Katie swallowed, her mouth going dry. “Well, this could ruin your day.”
Yellow crime-scene tape barred the mansion’s entrance. The east end of the Victoria Square parking lot was clogged with squad cars scattered with no regard to the orderly lines painted on the asphalt. Katie leaned against a paint-flaked column on the wide veranda, noting the rain damage at its base. It would be expensive to replace.
“This is a bad omen,” Katie heard Janice complain for the hundredth time, from inside the house. “Who’ll want to come to the inn knowing we found a body in a wall?”
The poor woman had no concept of marketing, Katie thought with a rueful shake of her head. A ghost was a great draw … if you had a good story to go with it.
She’d been glad to escape the crowd inside. As a material witness, Katie was compelled to stay until the law said she could leave. She glanced at her watch. It was going on two hours now.
She sighed, unsure why she hadn’t felt as shattered as Janice and Toby at finding a skeleton walled up in what once might’ve been her home. Maybe because it wasn’t her home and never would be. Then again, she’d seen Artisans Alley’s former owner/manager dead in a puddle of his own blood. She’d found one of the vendors dead with a broken neck from a fall. An anonymous skeleton wasn’t half as scary. Or maybe she was just in denial. But it was obvious the person behind the wall had been dead a long—well, reasonably speaking—time, and it sure hadn’t been an accident.
A crowd of rubberneckers ringed the cordoned-off area. Katie looked up to see her friend and Artisans Alley vendor Rose Nash among the crowd, clutching a card or paper, madly waving to her, trying to get her attention. Dyed blond curls bobbed around her anxious, wrinkled face. Katie took a step forward, but a hand on her shoulder made her turn.
Detective Ray Davenport of the Sheriff’s Office homicide detail was once again on site, looking just as formidable and bad-tempered as the other times Katie had interacted with him.
“You seem to attract death, Mrs. Bonner,” the balding, middleaged cop said.
Katie straightened indignantly. “Me, attract death? Detective, that poor woman’s been dead for decades.”
“And how do you know it was a woman?” he asked suspiciously.
Katie frowned. “Long blond hair, a locket—it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the gender.”
Davenport glowered. “Just what were you doing here anyway, Mrs. Bonner?”
“Paying a friendly visit to my new neighbors on behalf of the Victoria Square Merchants Association. Believe me, I didn’t want to find the remains of that … that poor person.”
“Detective! Detective!” Rose called, elbowing her way through the crowd. “I heard they found a body.”
“You’ll have to read about it in the paper, ma’am,” he said, ignoring the agitation in her voice as he turned back toward the mansion entrance.
“Was it a woman?” Rose persisted. “Blond hair, brown eyes? Did she have a locket?”
Davenport stopped dead, turned. “Locket?”
“Rectangular, sterling silver. Rhodium-plated with a bright-cut floral design,” Rose cried in desperation. She held out a wallet-sized photo, waving it at him.
Davenport trudged down the steps, took the picture from her, studied it, and frowned. Then he lifted the crime-scene tape, motioning her forward.
Katie hurried to meet Rose, steadying the elderly woman as she climbed the six shallow steps into the mansion.
Portable work lights illuminated the crime scene. The room seemed claustrophobically small with so many deputies and technicians crowded in. As the trio entered, they stepped back, quieting as Davenport approached.
The wall had been taken down in one piece, thanks to a reciprocating saw, and now lay flat on the floor. The rest of the drywall had been removed, revealing the earthly remains—just bones—in situ, wrapped in clear plastic sheeting and lying on a fluffy pillow of faded pink Fiberglas. A petrified black substance—rat or insect dung, Katie surmised—was also visible. She shuddered at the thought of how it had gotten there and turned her attention to the wooden studs, which were twenty-four inches on center—not a lot of room. The body must have been wedged in at an angle—the shoulders were cocked, the wrists crossed in front of the pelvis. No remnant of cloth or flesh remained.
Rose blanched, and Katie felt her friend wobble in her grasp.
“Do you recognize the locket?” Davenport asked the older woman.
Tears filled Rose’s eyes and she nodded, the movement causing her to sway. “It belonged to my niece.” She took a shuddering
breath and choked on a sob. “Oh, Heather, everyone thought you’d run off to New York—and you were here all along,” she said, and collapsed in a dead faint.
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Lorna Barrett
MURDER IS BINDING
BOOKMARKED FOR DEATH
BOOKPLATE SPECIAL
CHAPTER & HEARSE
SENTENCED TO DEATH