Midas Murders [Book 3 of the Katherine Miller Mysteries]

by Janet Lane-Walters

  "There's been a shooting. Send someone."

  "Who? Where? Who is this?"

  "Katherine Miller. A shooting at the Claybourne estate. Two victims."

  "Address."

  My mind went blank. I swallowed. The voice shouted in my ear. This time I remembered and gave the information.

  "The victims...hurt...dead?"

  "I don't know."

  "Sit tight. Stay inside. Someone's on the way."

  I stared through the window. Lars had reached his daughter. Snow fell on his shoulders and on the crumpled bodies. He remained for a short time, then rose and ran back to the house. My heart leaped into my throat. Would he reach the house safely.

  My legs trembled. My body shook. I sank on the couch and covered my face with my hands. I was no stranger to death. As a nurse I'd kept vigils at the bedsides of the dying. I'd found the bodies of two murder victims, but never before had I witnessed the violent ending of a life.

  "Kate."

  Lars’ voice broke my fugue. I looked up. “Thank heavens you're all right. The police are on the way. Should we call an ambulance?"

  "We'll leave that to the police.” He sat beside me. Absently I brushed snow from his sweater and waited for him to speak. “She's dead. Damon, too."

  His voice was toneless. Shock, I thought and reached for his wrist to check his pulse. “I'm sorry."

  He pulled me into an embrace. “Why did Carl kill them?"

  His hands felt icy. “I don't know. He must have acted out of an insane desperation."

  He released me and leaned his head against the back of the couch. Tears glistened in his eyes. “She didn't have to steal. All she had to do was ask."

  True, but asking had never been Bonnie's style. All her life she had taken what she wanted with no regard for other people's desires. Until today Lars had never been able to see her faults. I'm sure this knowledge weighed on his spirit. He'd need time to grieve, time to come to terms with his mistakes. Lord knows the difficulty of that step was something I knew all too well.

  Then once the error was admitted, a person had to move on. Just as I had to do. The truth of this observation hit me with the force of an avalanche. Not long ago I'd made a dreadful mistake. I would never forget, but I could forgive myself. Could I help my friend do the same?

  I reached for his hands and warmed them with mine. “I wish I could take your pain."

  He closed his eyes. A weary sigh escaped his lips. “I don't know what to do or say."

  Sirens sounded in the distance and grew louder. “The police,” I said. “You'd better open the gate."

  "Could you. Right now I can't move."

  "Just rest then.” I went to the foyer and pressed the buttons for the gate. Cold air and swirls of snow blew through the open door. I closed it. The phone rang. I returned to the living room and lifted the receiver. “Hello."

  "Aunt Katherine,” Don said. “Is Dad there? Since he's so adamant that Megan and I stay away, I need him to pick up a few things for us."

  I looked at Lars. Don, I mouthed. He shook his head.

  "He's here, but he can't speak to you right now."

  "Is he tied up with Bonnie?” Don asked.

  "No."

  "Is he sick?"

  "At heart."

  "His heart? Get him to the hospital."

  "No physical problem. Someone shot Bonnie and Damon. The police just arrived."

  Lars rose from the couch and left the room. He moved like a man who had aged twenty years in an instant.

  "How bad?” Don asked.

  His question drew my attention from Lars. “Your father said they were dead."

  "I'll come. He'll need me."

  "Stay where you are. If you come home now, your dad will worry. The killer is out there somewhere. Give me your phone number and I'll call when we know more.” He did. I wrote the number on a piece of paper and tucked it in my slack's pocket.

  "Okay."

  Through the window I saw the revolving lights of the police cars and the flashing lights of an ambulance. Snow blanketed the ground.

  Lars straightened and entered the foyer then stepped outside.

  A young police officer looked around. “Sir, you can't come out here."

  "My daughter..."

  "Sorry, sir. You have to stay inside."

  Color drained from Lars’ face. I put my arm around his waist. “Help me,” I called. “He's going to collapse."

  The young officer strode to the door. “Should I call the paramedics in?"

  "Let's get him to the couch. Lars, can you walk?"

  "Yes."

  With the officer's help I steered Lars to the living room and helped him lie on the couch. I checked his pulse. A rapid but regular rhythm beat against my fingers. As the rate slowed I breathed a sigh of relief.

  "Sir, are you all right?"

  Lars tried to sit up. “I'll be fine. It's just...the shock...the waste."

  I pushed him back. “As resident nurse I'm ordering you to be still."

  "We'll need to know what happened,” the police officer said. “You'll have to come to the station so Detective Rodgers can take your statements."

  "Not until Mr. Claybourne has recovered. His daughter is one of the victims."

  Lars shook his head. “I can go."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I want that bastard caught and the sooner they know the whole story, the sooner he will be."

  "All right, but I'll drive."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 11

  ~

  El Fantismos Dorados

  -

  When we reached the police station, we were taken to a small office. Detective Rodgers sat behind a cluttered desk. Two straight back wooden chairs faced the desk. The detective looked up. “Lars Claybourne and..."

  "Katherine Miller,” I said.

  He nodded. “Have a seat. I'll be taping your statements."

  Lars sank on one of the chairs. “What do you want to know?"

  "Everything.” Detective Rodgers sounded weary. “Start from the beginning."

  Lars nodded. “Then Kate should start with the day she arrived."

  I began the story, “So you see, his son and I were puzzled since no ransom was demanded."

  "Did anyone call the police to report Mr. Claybourne as missing?"

  "His daughter did. At least I thought I heard her talking to someone here. Later, Rafe Diaz told me she hadn't called."

  "I see. There's a way to check.” He opened the door and asked someone to bring the phone log for that day. “Why was Rafe involved?"

  "He's a relative by marriage of Lars’ son. Don called and asked him to look into the disappearance since we believed the police had refused to do anything.” I went on to talk about the call from the hospital and Lars’ condition when I arrived. “Doctor Verdigras thought Lars had had a small stroke. I asked for a tox screen, but the doctor refused to order one."

  "Why did you want one?” Detective Rodgers leaned forward.

  "His symptoms weren't indicative of a stroke. Seemed drug related to me."

  "Mr. Claybourne, why didn't you call the police when you returned home?"

  "I thought...” Lars paused and then explained his suspicions of his daughter's involvement. “I didn't think I was in danger."

  The officer groaned. “Right. What happened today was nothing, I suppose.” The door opened and he took a sheet of paper from another officer. Detective Rodgers scanned the list. “Rafe was right. No call was made.” He tapped a pencil against the desk. “Continue."

  Lars took up the narrative. He skipped the New Year's Eve party and our trips until the moment we heard Bonnie had been kidnapped.

  The officer straightened. “She was what?"

  "Kidnapped, but it turns out the whole affair was a farce.” I went on to explain my theory.

  By the time Lars and I finished that segment of the story, I thought Detective Rodgers would have a stroke. His face was the col
or of his hair. The pencil he held snapped.

  "Do you have this note?” he asked.

  "Either Carl or Damon must have taken it,” I said.

  The officer groaned. “Spare me from amateurs. What happened next?"

  Lars continued the story from our discovery of Bonnie to what he'd learned about the thefts from the business. “I planned to call you this morning, but I had to talk to my daughter first."

  "Does anyone else know about this mess?"

  "My son, but he doesn't know his sister is dead."

  "He knows. I told him when he called this morning. Rafe Diaz knows."

  "Good man.” Detective Rodgers rose. “I'd like to lock the pair of you away until we find your son-in-law."

  "Why?” Lars asked.

  "You could be in danger.” The officer shook his head. “Just go to a hotel and stay there."

  Lars turned to me. “That all right with you?"

  "Very all right. You have no idea how wonderful a hotel sounds."

  "We could go to the chalet."

  "A hotel here in town like the one where we stayed before."

  We left the station and walked to the car. Lars plucked the keys from my hand. “I'll drive.” Instead of heading downtown and the hotel, he drove toward the house.

  "Lars, what are you doing?"

  "We need clothes and you'll need your tea."

  "I can live without it."

  "I can't."

  His answer made me laugh. “I don't believe that.” Snow swirled in the air. “Why don't we go shopping for some clothes."

  "We could, but we're not."

  "What if we run into Carl?"

  "He's bound to be long gone."

  "I sure hope you're right."

  "The police are probably still at the house doing whatever they do,” he said.

  They weren't. The only sign they'd been there was the yellow crime scene tape that blocked the entrance to the front door of the house and the carport. Lars parked on the drive and we entered the house by the sunroom door.

  I quickly packed several changes of clothes, my sleepwear and toiletries and headed to the kitchen. There I put the tins of tea in a canvas bag.

  Lars appeared with his suitcase. “Talked to Don. There are a few things he and Megan need. I'll run across to their house and get them."

  "Don't be long."

  "Five or ten minutes."

  I felt uncomfortable about being in the house alone and wished I'd gone with him. I set the canvas bag and my suitcase beside the door and returned to the kitchen. What I really wanted was a cup of tea, but that bit of comfort would have to wait until we reached the hotel.

  The sunroom door closed with a snap. “That was quick.” I turned and gasped. Carl stepped into the kitchen. “What are you doing here?” My heart beat so rapidly I thought I would faint.

  "Didn't mean to scare you.” He slumped at the table. His clothes were disheveled and his eyes bore the look of a hunted and desperate man. On closer examination, I noticed some bruises on his face. Had he somehow managed to escape from the wrecked car?

  "Why did you come here?” I reached for one of the heavy stoneware canisters and slid it across the counter.

  "Someone tried to kill me,” he said.

  What was he talking about? He was the killer. “Why weren't you in the car? Bonnie said you never let anyone drive it."

  "Yeah, normally I don't.” He looked up. “Car was a down payment on a debt until I could liberate some cash I stashed away."

  "Don't you mean stole? You're on your way to Florida, I imagine."

  His shoulders tensed. “Guess Lars figured that out."

  "Who else would the culprit be?"

  "Damon. Bonnie."

  "But they're..."

  "Kate, let's go,” Lars called.

  "There's a slight complication.” Instead of pulling the gun I expected, Carl seemed to shrink.

  Lars stepped into the room. He dropped the canvas bag he held on the floor. “You bastard. You killed her."

  Carl held up his hands. “What the hell are you talking about?"

  "Bonnie's dead. Damon, too.” Lars grabbed the neck of Carl's jacket.

  "What?” Carl shook his head. “Not me. Got here not long before you and Mrs. Miller. Was looking for the keys to Bonnie's car and then came here to see if she'd left them."

  Lars looked at me. “Call the police."

  "No. I'll get the money back to you. I didn't kill anyone."

  "We'll let the police decide that,” Lars said. “They'll discover how much you've been stealing."

  "Just the ransom."

  "Bonnie said..."

  "She says a lot of things that aren't true,” Carl said. “When she turned up missing it seemed like a good idea. Who would have known she'd really get herself snatched."

  I studied him. “Where have you been?"

  "Around. Got waylaid by some punks. Beat me up and took the keys to the Jaguar. I wasn't is such good shape for a couple days."

  Lars looked at me. “Make that call."

  Still clutching the canister I punched the number. Nothing made sense. If Carl wasn't the killer, who was? Why had Lars and I come back to the house instead of going to a hotel?

  "Lars, you have to listen.” Carl's body shook. “I needed money. Damon and I set up that fake company in Florida about a year ago and Bonnie signed the papers. Half the time, she was so drunk with being the boss she didn't check what she was signing. Ramona caught us. She called you and I told Damon. He said he'd handle her.” His laughter bordered on hysteria. “My buddy used to drive in demolition derbies."

  "So her death wasn't an accident,” I said.

  "Guess not."

  Lars took the phone from me and dialed again. “Lars Claybourne here.” He tapped his fingers on the counter. “We haven't checked in yet. We're at the house. So is Carl Grayco."

  Carl pushed his chair back and ran to the door. He stumbled over the canvas bag and caught his balance. I followed and stopped short.

  "Rafe, am I ever glad to see you,” I said.

  He didn't acknowledge me. With a grin he prodded Carl into the kitchen. I lifted the canister I'd put down to use the phone.

  Lars turned. “Kate, I just..."

  "Shut up,” Rafe said.

  The look in his dark eyes frightened me. I raised the canister.

  "Move away from Kate.” Rafe's voice was ragged and harsh.

  "What's going on?” Lars asked.

  "Justice,” Rafe said. “For Ramona. For me."

  "He didn't kill her,” Lars said.

  "If he and his pal hadn't set up their scheme, she'd be alive.” Rafe waved the gun.

  A sound thundered in my ears. Carl screamed and fell to the floor, knocking one of the chairs over.

  "Rafe, what...” Lars’ voice cracked.

  "Like I said, justice.” Rafe looked at me. “Kate, I wish you'd taken my advice. Why didn't you listen?"

  "Rafe, please,” I said. “You aren't solving anything with this kind of action."

  "I raised her. She was like a daughter."

  "Why didn't you go to the police?” Lars asked.

  "I was a cop. Know how these things work. Without solid evidence they would have walked free.” He moved closer to Lars. “Ramona told Bonnie about Carl and Damon. Your daughter laughed. Said you wouldn't believe me. Since you thought Bonnie walked on water you would believe her version. You're as guilty as they are."

  "And Bonnie's kidnapping and rescue?” Lars asked. “You knew she was there. How?"

  "Jaime Verdigras told me."

  I hurled the canister. The heavy jar hit Rafe's arm. He bellowed and grasped it. The gun flew from his hand, hit the floor and spun through the archway into the dining room. I heard sirens and relief nearly made me faint. Rafe stepped toward the dining room.

  "It's over. Let it be.” Acid burned in my throat. I grabbed the back of a chair for support.

  Four police officers entered, two through the dining
room and two from the sunroom.

  Lars pointed to Rafe. “He killed them."

  One officer knelt beside Carl. “Call an ambulance."

  Moments later, Detective Rodgers arrived. “Rafe, why?"

  "He destroyed my family so I took his."

  "What about Don and Megan?” I asked. “Were they next?"

  He shrugged. “Who knows what I'd have done to Don, but I'd never harm Megan. She's Ramona's daughter."

  An officer cuffed Rafe and led him away. I walked into Lars’ arms. My body shook with the aftershocks of the recent events.

  Lars stroked my back. “Kate, thank you. I couldn't do a thing."

  I looked up. “But you did. You kept him talking so I could act. It's all over but the grieving."

  "Over,” Detective Rodgers said. “Not yet. There'll be a trial. I want the pair of you to follow me downtown. Why in blazes did you come here?"

  "We needed clothes and things,” Lars said.

  "You could have asked for an escort."

  "Never thought of that.” Lars picked up the bag he'd brought from Don's and headed for the door. “Come on. Let's get this over."

  "Sounds good.” I lifted the bag of mint and my case and followed him to the car.

  * * * *

  When we reached the police station, we quickly gave our statements. Detective Rodgers saw us to the door.

  "Where will you be staying? the detective asked.

  "La Fonda,” Lars said.

  "Stay there. We'll tell you when you can go back to the house.” He shook his head. “Do the two of you know how lucky you were?"

  "I know. I still can't believe Rafe...” My voice broke.

  Detective Rodgers nodded. “Me either."

  Lars tugged on my arm. “We'll never understand why he snapped. Let's go."

  A short time later we reached the hotel and settled in the same suite as before. For an instant I thought about those golden days. They'd been a moment of sunshine in a season of gloom. Very soon Lars and I would have to deal with our golden ghosts. I shook my head. So many had died because of greed.

  Lars looked ready to collapse. I wondered if I should call his doctor, but decided against that move. With our recent luck, Jaime Verdigras would be the one I'd have to talk to and I had nothing to say to him.

  "Lars, go lie down. I'll call Don and let him know we're here so he can come for his things."