He had apparently had a change of heart and moved on to an entirely different story.
I hadn't looked at the rough draft again since.
I went to my computer and pulled up the novel titled Killer on the Prowl. I'd kept it in a folder with other digital copies of novels Brent had sent me.
Looking through it, the titles, names, and setting were different, but comparing it with Pierce's novel, Before He Strikes Again, it was pretty clear that it was the same novel. Through some means, Pierce had taken Brent's mystery novel and plagiarized it as his own.
Had he honestly felt that changing the character names and town would mask the fact that it was not an original work of fiction?
Had Brent, burdened with the early effects of Alzheimer's disease, somehow discovered the theft of his work?
Did this lead to murder when Pierce, long in Brent's shadow, realized he was caught and would be ruined if he didn't silence Brent for good?
I took a step back, not wanting to believe Pierce would take such drastic measures, all in the name of selling copies of a novel, along with fame and fortune. But the facts certainly seemed to suggest this was more than just a possibility. Pierce would have had access to Brent's computer and his house. He could have stolen the draft practically right under Brent's nose. Then when he was caught red-handed pretending the novel was his own and, under threat of exposure and humiliation, he entered the home and bludgeoned him to death. Moreover, Pierce could have taken Brent's laptop so the manuscript could not be retrieved by the police or anyone else; having already covered for it missing from Brent's house by suggesting that he was known for misplacing and losing his laptop at restaurants and other places where Brent often worked.
Then I thought about Karla allegedly confessing to killing Brent before taking her life. Had she really murdered him? Or did someone just want it to look that way?
I wondered if there was a connection between Pierce and Karla. Had they known each other before or during her relationship with Brent? Had Pierce used her to go into Brent's computer and steal the draft of his novel without him being the wiser until Pierce tried to pass it off as his own?
I tried to recall Karla's words when I saw her at the Smooth and Mellow lounge.
"Men can be such jerks sometimes. Especially writers—they're so full of themselves."
Could she have been referring to Brent and Pierce? Had she been seeing both of them at the same time? Or was she cheating on Brent with Pierce?
I then remembered Karla saying at the lounge: "We all have things to hide—some of us are just better at it than others."
Had she been referring to the fact that Pierce had stolen Brent's novel while he pretended to be the legitimate author?
Or could she have meant something even more nefarious, such as Pierce murdering Brent to keep him quiet?
If so, could Karla have somehow discovered Pierce's secrets and perhaps threatened to expose him, thereby making her expendable?
But why would Pierce have created Karla's fake confession to Brent's murder when Emily and Tony were already in custody charged with the crime?
The various scenarios and questions were starting to give me a headache. But I couldn't let it go. If Karla did not kill Brent or herself, then the real killer needed to be revealed and brought to justice.
However, since Pierce had likely covered his tracks well, were he the killer, and he was friendly with members of the police department—it was doubtful that the police would consider him a suspect in Karla's murder, or even Brent's murder for that matter. Not without strong evidence to that effect.
I did have the original draft of Brent's novel that would prove, at the very least, that Pierce had plagiarized it under the guise of his own masterpiece. But that, in and of itself, wouldn't prove he had killed him. It certainly wouldn't connect Pierce to Karla and her apparent suicide.
I wanted to call Detective Whitmore and talk about my fears and theories, but was afraid he would reject them summarily, given what now seemed like an open and shut case with Karla Terrell as the culprit in Brent's death as well as her own.
It seemed like the only way to trust my instincts was to find a way to connect the dots that may lead right to Pierce O'Shea's door.
* * *
I drove to the apartment complex where Karla lived, having gotten the information from a news report. Luisa was able to give me her apartment number, which she had located amongst Brent's belongings.
The building itself was five stories and was a relatively new development on the east side of Cozy Pines. Karla lived in apartment number 375. I walked up three flights of stairs, bypassing the elevator.
When I came to Karla's apartment, I noticed that some flowers had been left by the door. It seemed like a fitting way to honor her memory for someone who had cared about her. But I couldn't help but wonder if they had been left by her killer who likely believed he was free of suspicion.
I knocked on the apartment next door, not sure if it was the right one or not. When the door opened, I had my answer.
An elderly man stood there with the aid of a cane. "Can I help you?"
"Mr. Frazier?" I asked, even though I recognized him.
"Yes, do I know you?"
"My name is Riley Reed. I do volunteer work at the Senior Center. I served you there last Friday when you came with Karla Terrell."
"Oh yes, I remember you," he said, touching his glasses.
"I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes...about Karla."
He nodded and invited me in. The place was a bit cluttered, but tidily so.
"I can't believe she's gone," he said solemnly.
"Neither can I," I admitted.
"Would you like to sit down?" he asked, sitting on a well-worn couch.
"Thank you," I said as I sat down beside him. "I could tell that Karla really cared about you."
He nodded. "It worked both ways. She said I reminded her of her grandfather. And she was like the granddaughter I never had."
"Did Karla strike you as someone who would take her own life?" I asked pointblank.
Mr. Frazier removed his glasses and wiped away tears. "I never would have thought she would kill herself, and I can't believe she had it in her to kill anyone else. Sure, Karla had her problems, but she was full of life and had too much life left to live to end it all this way."
"What types of problems did she have?" I probed.
He shrugged. "The usual ones for young people: money and relationship problems."
Neither of these took me by surprise, considering the fact that Karla's relationship with Brent had ended, along with his generosity, no doubt, before his death.
"Was she currently seeing someone?"
"There was a young fella she had been spending time with," he responded. "And it seemed like they really liked each other. But, similar to her previous involvement with the writer who died, this one seemed like it was going nowhere."
"Why do you say that?" I asked.
Mr. Frazier sighed. "They started arguing a lot. My hearing isn't what it used to be, but the walls around here are thin enough to pick it up. Can't say what the arguing was about, but Karla didn't seem very happy."
I turned toward him. "Can you describe what this man looked like?"
"Sure." He gave me a description that sounded a lot like Pierce O'Shea.
I took my cell phone out of my purse and pulled up a photo that I had taken with Pierce. "Is this the man Karla was dating?"
Mr. Frazier peered at the image through his glasses. "Yep, that's him."
I gazed at the weathered face of Karla's neighbor. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. It's him."
That was good enough for me. Pierce O'Shea had been romantically involved with Karla before her death, and possibly while she was still dating Brent. It connected Pierce to two people who were now dead.
"Do you know if he was at her apartment the day Karla supposedly jumped off the balcony to her death?" I asked.
>
Mr. Frazier leaned back on the couch. "Can't say. I think Karla was out for much of the day. Where, I wouldn't know. Perhaps she was with him..."
I was thinking the same thing. Only it could be that they ended up back at Karla's apartment, where Pierce tossed her off the balcony, perhaps after rendering her unconscious so her screams wouldn't attract attention.
"I'm really sorry for your loss of Karla's friendship and support," I told Mr. Frazier. "If you need any assistance getting to and from the Senior Center, I'm sure we can help you with that."
"Thank you," he said appreciatively. "I'll take you up on the offer, though I'd give anything to have Karla alive and well again."
"I feel exactly the same way," I assured him.
Unfortunately, I knew that was not to be, for someone had seen to it that Karla would remain quiet forever. I, for one, did not believe she had silenced herself.
Now I just had to try to prove my strong suspicions.
* * *
Later that afternoon, I paid Pierce O'Shea a visit. He lived in a nice Cape Code style beachfront home not far from Brent's house. I had been there a couple of times with Brent and was quite impressed with the workmanship and attention to detail.
Pierce's BMW was parked in the driveway. I pulled in behind it and considered things carefully before cutting off the car and exiting it.
I stepped onto the porch, taking note of the wicker furniture and potted hydrangeas. In my hand was a copy of Pierce's latest novel.
I rang the bell and within a few seconds Pierce came to the door. He was casually dressed and his hair looked freshly washed.
"Riley...what are you doing here?"
I managed a smile. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. Hope I didn't catch you at a bad time?"
"No, not at all," he said coolly. "Come on in."
I stepped inside and was led into a spacious Great Room with white furnishings.
"Can I offer you something to drink?"
"No thanks, I'm good," I told him.
He regarded me and the book in my hand. "I see you brought my novel along. Did you read the whole thing?"
"Actually, I did and found it to be quite thought-provoking."
He flashed me a boyish grin. "That's great to hear, especially coming from you as someone Brent respected and obviously vice versa." He paused. "Well, have a seat."
I watched him sit in a white Queen Anne chair as I sat on a lush sectional sofa, placing my handbag beside me and the book on my lap.
"It's certainly good to have this whole mess with Brent's death behind us, with Karla's confession and suicide," Pierce said, "though I must admit, I thought Emily and her friend were guilty as charged."
"I was never as confident that the right ones were behind bars," I told him candidly. "Fortunately, they were absolved of any part in Brent's death before this thing went any further in the court system."
"I couldn't agree more. No one should have to go to jail for something they didn't do. Whatever her reasons, Karla did the right thing by coming clean before Emily had to bear the brunt of her actions any further."
"Why do you suppose Karla would confess to killing Brent now, instead of right from the start?" I asked him curiously.
Pierce shrugged. "I don't know. Because she had a guilty conscience. Or maybe she felt the walls closing in on her."
I gazed at him. "I have to tell you, after running into Karla a few times, I never felt she was suicidal."
"The signs aren't always obvious," he countered. "Especially if the person wanted to portray a different image publicly. I'm guessing that Karla could no longer deal with what she had done to Brent and decided rather than face justice, she would dispense her own and save the taxpayers money."
"An interesting perspective," I said. "Did you know Karla well?"
Pierce met my eyes. "No more than you did," he said calmly. "I know she dated Brent for a while before the relationship ended. But I never would have imagined she had such a jealous rage in her that she would decide to kill Brent rather than be without him in her life."
I sucked in a deep breath and said, "I'm not sure Karla did kill Brent or herself. I think someone pushed her off the balcony and faked the suicide note."
"Really?" He cocked a brow. "Why would someone go to the trouble of doing that?"
"I've asked myself the same question, especially since Emily and Tony were already behind bars for killing Brent. My answer was that Karla somehow discovered who the real killer was and may have threatened to expose the person, making her a liability. But to have her commit suicide because of depression might lead the police to question this. However, linking it directly to Brent's death would seem to be a better fit, making it less likely that the police would dig too deeply—even if this meant clearing Emily and Tony of the murder."
Pierce chuckled uneasily. "That sounds a bit farfetched."
"Yes, I suppose it does, which is why I haven't been able to go to the authorities. I suspect they would dismiss my theory as utter nonsense."
"Maybe you should go with that and leave it alone."
"You're probably right," I told him thoughtfully. "But there's a problem with that..."
"What?" he asked inquisitively.
"It's this novel—" I opened it up halfway.
He wrinkled his nose. "I don't follow you."
"Well, as I was reading it, I got this strange sense of familiarity, as though I had read it before. I was sure my eyes were playing tricks on me, since your book signing was the first time I had laid eyes on it. Or so I thought..."
I deliberately paused to give him a moment to consider what might come next.
"I dug through my computer files and located a rough draft of a novel Brent had e-mailed me some time ago that bore an eerie resemblance to your novel."
"Seriously?" Pierce said with disbelief.
"Yes, I'm very serious," I made clear. "In fact, upon comparing the two carefully, they were virtually word for word, aside from the names of key characters and the setting. I'm quite sure that to any reasonable authority, it would be obvious that it was a case of plagiarism."
He shifted uncomfortably. "As you know, I worked with Brent on his books. It's possible that some of his notes may have gotten intermingled with mine or vice versa and I got the two mixed up when I wrote Before He Strikes Again. I can assure you, there was no deliberate means to deceive the public."
I peered at him. "Actually, I think you went way beyond that, Pierce. I think Brent was on to you and tried to put a stop to it. Fearing this would ruin your career, you made a conscious choice to stop him at any cost. In this case, you went to Brent's house and entered with a key you had probably made a copy of. Then you caught him off guard in his man cave when you picked up the pool stick and bludgeoned him to death."
Pierce laughed wickedly. "That's ridiculous! Maybe you should consider writing mystery novels, Riley. You obviously have a very active imagination that's well suited for the genre."
"I don't think I have the temperament or talent to make a very good novelist," I told him honestly. "But I do believe that I'm right on the money in that it was you who murdered Brent and then tried to pin it on Karla."
"Now why on earth would I do that? I hardly knew the woman—"
"Actually, you knew her quite well," I said. "You were, after all, having a relationship with her..." I took my cell phone out of my handbag and brought up the photograph of him and me. "Karla's elderly neighbor, Mr. Frazier—whom she had brought to the Senior Center where I do volunteer work—identified you from this photo as the man she was dating prior to her death. The question is whether you were dating her at the same time Brent was. Perhaps you were using Karla to steal Brent's laptop or to secure the file on his novel, Killer on the Prowl. Or maybe you started romancing her after they broke up and she somehow discovered what you had done and planned to notify the authorities."
"I think this nonsense has gone on long enough!" Pierce snorted. "You have no id
ea what you're talking about."
"Well, I suppose it was a mistake for me to come to see you first," I told him. "I'll just take this to the police and let them sort it out. I'm pretty sure, though, when equipped with all the facts, they'll reach the same conclusions. I suspect that you somehow learned beforehand that Brent had early onset Alzheimer's disease and tried to take full advantage of it by stealing his work. In fact, I'm even willing to bet that you're in possession of Brent's hard drive with the plagiarized first draft of his novel, after cleverly leading your friends on the police force to believe that Brent had simply misplaced his laptop somewhere."
I stood and Pierce rose just as quickly. His relatively placid façade suddenly grew rigid. "I'm afraid you're not going anywhere, Riley!"
My heart skipped a beat as he closed the distance between us quickly, glaring down at me with eyes that were slits.
"Do you plan to kill me too, Pierce?" I challenged him, hoping to get more out of him. "Don't you think that getting rid of another obstacle in your master plan to steal Brent's work will only cause more suspicion that will lead to you?"
Pierce sighed. "Do you have any idea what it's like to work for a perfectionist like Brent, only to have to follow in his shadow once I started writing on my own? I could never measure up to his greatness, certainly not in the eyes of the critics. I was always several steps behind Brent as a mystery novelist. But after Brent had let it slip that he had Alzheimer's disease, I rediscovered Killer on the Prowl, which he had also sent me the first draft of. I had always felt that it was perhaps his finest work, though he disagreed and cast it aside. I figured that since his mind was failing, I could make a few superficial changes and claim it as my own, without Brent being the wiser.
"My editor certainly loved it and was sure it would be a bona fide hit. Unfortunately, the editor, who knew Brent, sent him an advance copy of Before He Strikes Again, hoping for a blurb. Brent recognized that it was his book and demanded that I own up to this with my publisher, the press, and my fans—or he would do the honors.
"He left me no choice in the matter," Pierce stated. "I couldn't let him ruin everything I'd worked so hard for. I used a key that Brent had given me to more easily come and go when I was working for him. I slipped inside his house and caught him off guard as I grabbed the pool cue and pounded him till he stopped moving... Then I got the hell out of there by going out the back door and heading over to the next street, where I made my getaway.
Murdered in the Man Cave (A Riley Reed Cozy Mystery) Page 16