Brownie Points for Murder

by Nicole Ellis

  “The Boathouse,” Brenda whispered a second time.

  “The Boathouse,” I blurted out. As soon as I said it, the idea made perfect sense. The Boathouse had plenty of space for an auction and dinner, and it was right in downtown Ericksville.

  “Too expensive,” Nancy said. “We’ve looked into it before. If you’d attended some of our PTA meetings in the past, you’d know we aren’t wealthy. All the profits are invested directly back in the school.”

  “My in-laws own the Boathouse. I’m sure we can get it at a substantial discount.” My words came out faster and faster. “If we held the auction on a weekday, it would be even cheaper. It’s a beautiful and clean location, and it’s less than a mile from the preschool.” I started envisioning the table layout and the centerpiece decorations. I could wear an evening gown and look like a million bucks for the first time since before I had kids. When was this auction anyways? I had fifteen Ella pounds left to lose before fitting into my dream dress.

  “Well, that settles it,” Nancy said. “Thanks, everyone, for coming.”

  I said goodbye to Brenda and stood to leave.

  “Jill, wait.” Nancy charged up to me.

  “Yes?”

  “When can you have a proposal put together for the use of the Boathouse and for your plan for obtaining auction items and attendees?” Nancy asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “As auction co-chair, you are responsible for organizing the sub-committees.”

  “Auction co-chair?”

  “Yes, auction co-chair. What we just talked about in the meeting,” Nancy said slowly, as though speaking to a child. Apparently my brief moment of fantasy about wearing a beautiful dress had cost me hours of volunteer time.

  “Of course. I’ll get right on it.” I looked at my watch. Five minutes to get over to the Italian restaurant down the street. “Nancy, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run.”

  “Great, I’ll help you load the cage into your car.”

  Cage? My heart sank into the pit of my stomach.

  “Lindsey Beecher took the cage outside, but I took the liberty of putting Sugar and Spice into their carrying case,” Nancy said, handing me a small pink travel terrarium. Inside the container, the two gerbils huddled inside a toilet paper roll.

  I’d been so shocked, I’d taken the object from Nancy automatically, but as we walked toward the door, my hand trembled. I was carrying two squirmy, nasty little rodents. Bile rose up in my throat. Outside, I breathed deeply of the cool air and tried to convince myself that this wasn’t an issue, and I wasn’t terrified of the tiny creatures. We loaded the larger cage into the back of the minivan, and I placed the gerbils next to their home.

  Nancy picked up the travel container and walked around to open my passenger side door. “I think they’ll be more comfortable up here with you.”

  I nodded to her with tight lips. She smiled angelically and shut the door.

  Babysitting two rodents was not part of my perfect date night plan. The dashboard clock showed I was a few minutes late for our seven o’clock reservations. I took my phone out of my purse and turned it on to text Adam to let him know I’d be there soon. To my surprise, there were three new text messages on my phone—two from Adam and one from Elliott. I checked Adam’s texts first.

  “Sorry, honey, our flight got delayed at the Portland airport. Not going to make dinner tonight. I’ll see you later.” Five minutes later, he wrote, “I’m really sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. Love you.”

  Well. That was a perfect end to a perfectly imperfect day. I’d known there was a possibility Adam wouldn’t make our date due to his travel schedule, but I’d hoped things would work out this time. I felt like throwing my phone across the front seat. The irrational fear that it would hit the gerbils and cause them to escape stopped me. It was getting pretty chilly out, so I turned on the heater and sat in the preschool parking lot with the car running. I told myself things couldn’t get much worse and tomorrow had to be better. I had the start of a new job with Elkins Development Group, two wonderful kids, and a great husband—even if he wasn’t around much. With that mantra running through my head, I backed out of the parking space and prepared to turn left to my house. My phone buzzed, and I leaned over to read the text.

  “Please let me know if you are coming,” read the new message from Elliott. I scrolled up and saw his previous message I hadn’t read yet. “We need to get together tonight to go over a new marketing plan. This is big and can’t wait until tomorrow.”

  What could possibly be so big that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? Had Elliott figured out something to persuade the community to support his condo project? What the heck? The kids were at their grandparents’ house, and Adam wouldn’t be home for hours. What better things did I have to do? A small voice in my head reminded me that this was the way down the rabbit hole in terms of loss of the work/life balance. Still, I texted Elliott back and let him know I’d be there in a few minutes.

  28

  When I parked in front of the condo project a few minutes later, the sun was setting over Willowby Island. Hues of pink and orange streaked the sky, creating a surreal effect. I grabbed my oversized purse that doubled as a diaper bag and tossed in my cell phone. I pulled my sweater close as a breeze swept through the parking lot.

  Before shutting the driver’s side door, I looked over at the passenger seat and saw the gerbils in their travel case. With the wind picking up and the sun going down, temperatures would drop quickly. Gerbils had enough fur to withstand cold temperatures, right? One of the creatures smashed its nose against the plastic and stared at me. Mikey would never forgive me if Sugar and Spice froze to death while in my care.

  I sighed, pursed my lips, and gingerly picked the terrarium up by its hot pink handle. I didn’t want to have to explain to Elliott why I was carrying around gerbils, so I carefully placed the carrier in my purse and wedged it in between a notebook and a packet of baby wipes. The gerbils rustled around in their prison, and I tried to pretend they weren’t hanging out a few inches from my waist.

  I tried the doorknob of the Elkins Development Group’s office, but it was locked. All the lights were off. Where was Elliott? Had he not received my text saying I’d meet him in a few minutes?

  “Jill.” A man’s voice called out from above. Elliott leaned out the open window of a third-story unit. “Up here. The front door is unlocked.”

  The door was ajar. As I pushed it open the smell of stale smoke assailed my senses. How long would the fire smell permeate the building?

  “Elliott?” I called. “Is it safe to go up there?” I looked at the stairs, illuminated only by a thin beam of moonlight. I knew the project wasn’t finished yet. They appeared ok, but I was far from being a construction expert. I needed more light. I remembered the laser flashlight attached to my keychain and punched the button at the end of the device. Nothing happened. My cell phone didn’t produce much light, but it was all I had. The construction crew had pushed their materials out of the way along the walls, but bits of cement, electrical wires, and blocks of wood were scattered across the concrete floors. I picked my way through the construction rubble to the stairwell and walked up the stairs.

  By the third story, I vowed to renew my gym membership. Apparently, pacing my daughter’s bedroom for an hour while rocking her to sleep hadn’t counted as aerobic activity. I tried to keep the huffing and puffing at a professional level as I walked down the hall to where I’d seen Elliott. Why was he up here anyways?

  These units were still under construction and appeared to be untouched by the fire. Without glass in the window frames, the smell of smoke was minimal. Through the west-facing window, the remains of the sunset glowed like the embers of a fire. The effect of the sunset over the water was gorgeous. The future owners of this condo were very lucky people.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Elliott said, coming up behind me. Startled, I whipped my head around and accidentally hit him with my purse. He stepped
uncomfortably close to me, and I sidestepped around him. Where had he come from?

  “Yes, very nice. The views are incredible from here. I bet the top floor is unbelievable.”

  Elliott patted the wide, open window frames. “The panoramic windows will provide the best view in all of Ericksville, maybe even in the North Sound area. These babies are going to go fast when we put them on the market.”

  “Speaking of listing the condos, do you have a real estate agent in mind for the project?” I asked casually. “Brenda Watkins was just telling me how much she loves this project and would like to be part of it. Especially with the Westen property not being developed, this will be the best view in the area.”

  Elliott’s face grew thoughtful, as though contemplating my question. Then, his face turned scarily pleasant and plastic-looking, the expression reminiscent of that on a Ken doll.

  “You know, don’t you?” The creepy expression remained on his face.

  “Know what?” I had no clue what he was talking about, but the gun he pulled out of his pocket indicated that what he thought I knew was pretty dangerous.

  “Don’t play coy. I knew you’d figure it out eventually, so I left the stuffed bunny at your house as a warning. You didn’t take the hint.” He waved the gun at me. “Drop the bag.”

  My purse fell to the floor, toppling over on its side. My prized faux Gucci sunglasses fell out of the bag and clattered noisily on the concrete floors. Gosh, I hoped they weren’t damaged. I needed them to see on the glary gray Ericksville mornings.

  What was I thinking? I’d be lucky if I were even alive in the morning, much less able to drive safely. At that moment, it hit me. The black plastic-framed glasses I’d seen Elliott holding at the condo sales office were Perry’s. Perry, who by his own admission was blind without them for reading. He never would have left them behind when flying to Baltimore.

  I looked up at Elliott. “It was Perry’s body they found after the fire, wasn’t it? Not some vagrant who’d camped out in the building overnight.”

  But how was Elliott involved? Why was Perry’s car found at the airport? And if Perry hadn’t killed Samuel Westen, who had? Things were clicking into place like bricks on a Lego castle.

  “Did you have something to do with Samuel Westen’s death?”

  Elliott’s face twisted into something unrecognizable. “That old bastard. He couldn’t stand to see someone else in this town succeed in the real estate game. First, it was the height restrictions, and then he came up with some trumped-up regulation about street setback.” He waved the gun around. “We’d already poured the foundation. How were we supposed to redesign our entire building on such short notice?”

  “So he was blackmailing you to keep the town council from enforcing the street setback rules?” I edged backward toward the door.

  Elliott looked up at me in surprise. “Yes, how did you know?”

  “I found the ledger while I was looking for the artist’s rendering of the condo project. I knew there was something odd about those payments.”

  “Ha. Something odd alright. Perry tried to handle it on his own, but I knew something was up when he started drinking again. He’d been sober for two years and then suddenly was hitting the bottle every night,” Elliott said. “He finally confessed to me that the money was all gone and Westen still wanted more. That man had the gall to tell Perry he wanted in on the partnership. I wanted to confront Westen, but he wouldn’t see me. I had to tell him I was interested in his property. We met in his home office, and that’s where I saw it.”

  While he was distracted by his monologue, I edged further back. My heel caught the edge of a 2x4, causing me to stumble. Elliott saw me.

  “Get back over here. I can’t let you go now,” he said.

  I walked back toward him, my mind racing. How was I going to get out of this? What would distract Elliott enough to allow my escape?

  “Did you see the photo of your father in his office?”

  “Yes.” Elliott looked up at me in surprise. “How did you know about my father?”

  “I was helping out Samuel Westen’s daughter and I saw a photo of your father and mother together. It was the same photo you have on your desk.”

  “My mother didn’t tell me much about my father’s family, only that he’d died in an accident during army basic training. When I saw the photo at Westen’s house, the pieces fell into place. If it hadn’t been for Samuel Westen, my father might not have died, and we wouldn’t have had to live like we did. My mother wouldn’t have had to work three jobs just to make ends meet.” Elliott sounded very tired. “And then he wanted a piece of my business? I’d rather burn the place down than allow that to happen. Once I received the insurance money, I was going to start over somewhere else, but it’s taking forever to get the settlement.”

  “You started the fire? But what about Perry?” The implication hit me. Elliott had killed his best friend.

  Elliott’s face crumpled. “He was never supposed to be there. Perry should have been on a plane to the East Coast. But because of Samuel Westen, he got drunk and passed out in the demo condo he was living in.” Tears pooled in the corners of Elliott’s eyes.

  “You have to believe me. I’d never have killed Perry on purpose. We’d been best friends since middle school. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for him, or him for me. That’s how he got into this mess in the first place—he wanted to pay Westen off without worrying me, but things went too far. I didn’t even suspect Perry was there until the firefighters announced a body had been found in the fire. That afternoon, Perry’s soon-to-be ex-wife called to find out why he hadn’t made his flight. I saw his reading glasses on his desk and knew he hadn’t left. I was enraged. My so-called grandfather had ruined my business and then caused me to kill my best friend. I snapped.”

  “You killed him to avenge Perry’s death?”

  “I stopped at my parents’ house to bring in the mail the day of the fire and I saw my stepfather’s extra heart medication on the counter. Before I knew it, I’d crushed some of his pills and mixed them in with the Scotch I had in the decanter I’d removed from the old condo offices before the fire.” Elliott told the tale in a monotonous tone, as though relating someone else’s story. “Then I called Westen up and told him I’d decided to buy his property for above market price. He couldn’t resist the generous offer. I walked up the hill to his house and brought the Scotch with me to celebrate.” Elliott looked up at me and smiled serenely.

  “After he drank the Scotch, we walked the property line. When he started feeling dizzy up along the cliff path, I pushed him over the edge. It seemed a fitting end. He’d driven my father to drink, and a drink is what killed him. Afterwards, I walked home and drove Perry’s car to the airport. It all worked out so perfectly.”

  He paused. “Until you started asking questions about developing the property. I was glad I’d hired you to work for me so I could keep a close eye on you. When I went back to Westen’s house to look for any evidence linking his son with me, I saw your daughter’s rabbit on the floor. I’ve seen that stupid thing sticking out of your purse so many times, I knew immediately who it belonged to. I broke into your house and left it to warn you off in case you knew something. When my accountant called to say he thought you’d been in my files, I grew even more suspicious. That silly woman, Brenda, was too concerned with money to figure it out and, after you have an unfortunate fall from the third floor of this very building, I won’t need to worry about you either.”

  He motioned to the open window behind him. As if on cue, a breeze came through the window and rustled the paper wrapping on an open bag of construction materials.

  I needed to stall him while I figured out an escape plan. “Did you know Samuel Westen paid your college tuition?”

  “No.” Elliott shook his head. “That’s not true. I had a scholarship that paid for everything.”

  “Westen gave the school that money. I found bank records showing donations made to Wi
llowby College for the four years you were there. I don’t think it was a coincidence that you conveniently received a scholarship the same years your grandfather made large donations.”

  “No,” Elliott said again. “He couldn’t have. He never knew who I was. My mother had changed her name to my stepfather’s last name by the time we moved here, and my stepfather adopted me as well. There was nothing for him to trace to us.”

  “Your mother was in touch with her family though. Samuel Westen was old and crotchety, but he wasn’t dumb. He probably knew about you from the beginning.”

  Elliott stopped. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone and he can’t hurt me or my family ever again. Now let’s get on with this. The longer we’re up here, the greater the possibility someone could see us.” He waved the gun and beckoned for me to come closer to the window.

  The wind roared through the window again, and some paper near my purse rustled. I dragged my feet along the ground, and Elliott grew more impatient. “Come on, move.”

  A streak of gray shot across the concrete floor. Before I could react, a second furry creature followed. I screamed and jumped blindly to the side before running toward the highest object in the room, a concrete block near Elliott.

  Surprised to see me run toward him at full speed, Elliott backed up. His heels hit the wall behind him and he flung his arms out, the gun clattering to the floor. The panoramic window frame was so wide that he couldn’t gain purchase on the walls, and he fell backward through the third floor window. He screamed the whole way down. After a loud thud, there was nothing but silence.

  I took the time to search for the rampaging gerbils before stepping down from my perch, but after a quick glance revealed no twitching tails, I rushed to the window. Below the window, Elliott lay awkwardly on the broken ground. A pool of blood formed below his head and mixed with the mud. I grabbed the cell phone out of my purse and called 911.