“Trisha Alexander,” the young woman replied. “We haven’t officially met, but it’s crucial that I speak with you. I asked Ms. Webber to come along since she’s a friend of yours.”
I almost corrected her but thought better of it. “Trish is a graduate student at Clarion. She was working with Ramona Raymond on the folklore project.”
“Oh?” As Charles stepped back to allow us to enter his house, I couldn’t help but notice his hands hanging at his sides. With his fingers curling into fists.
He was definitely on guard. I puzzled over his obvious tension as Trish and I crossed the room to stand beside the kitchen island. “But that’s not why she’s here today. She actually has something she needs to tell you.”
After closing the door, Charles strode over and stood behind the island, facing us. “What, that Mona was lying about me stealing her work? That I’d like to hear.”
Trish gripped the rounded edge of the counter with both hands. “I don’t know anything about that,” she said, staring down at the swirling pattern of the marble.
“Then what’s this information you feel so compelled to share?” Charles slid his gaze from Trish to me. He raised his eyebrows, as if indicating that he found this situation ridiculous. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met, Ms. Alexander, and certainly can’t imagine what we’d have in common.”
“Marlis Dupre,” Trish blurted out, without looking up.
Charles instantly froze. “What about her?”
“It was me, not Lacey.” Trish lifted her head and stared Charles straight in the eye. “I was the driver who struck and killed your girlfriend, Mr. Bartos. Lacey had nothing to do with it.”
Charles swayed slightly before pressing his hands against the marble countertop. “What did you say?”
Trish straightened and lifted her chin. “I hit her, with my car. It was an accident, but then I didn’t call for help because, because …”
“She thought it was Lacey,” I said, meeting Charles’s furious gaze. “And they had … history.”
“But why would she think it was Lacey?”
“The blonde hair, a similar build, and”—I met Charles’s intense gaze without flinching—“the hat.”
He blinked rapidly. “Hat?”
“The knitted cap you said you found at the scene. You told me you thought Lacey left it there, in the ditch, but that wasn’t true.” I sharpened my tone. “Marlis grabbed that hat out of your closet without really looking. You said she’d do that sort of thing, remember? But the cap was only there because Lacey left it one day by accident, after she met you for a lovers’ rendezvous. Could that be right, Charles?”
Heat rose in his face, flushing his pale cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on. You were carrying on an affair with Lacey Jacobs, right under Marlis’s nose. You couldn’t stay true to her any more than you could to me.”
Trish took two steps back. “Were you really sleeping with Lacey?”
“No. That’s just some fantasy concocted in Amy’s head,” Charles said without meeting her eyes.
“That’s what Mona meant,” Trish said, as if talking to herself. She glanced over at me. “She said she had something on Mr. Bartos that would make him give her a cut of the song cycle profits, or at least some recognition, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was.”
“She told me the same thing,” I replied.
“That’s irrelevant.” Charles circled around the island to stand before us. “And a lot of nonsense. Ramona Raymond was an unhinged, bitter woman who liked to pretend that she knew more about everything than she did.”
“She’s dead,” Trish snapped. “Considering that fact, you could be a little nicer, Mr. Bartos.”
“And you could be a little more ashamed, considering what you’ve done.” Charles glared at Trish. “I still don’t understand. You hit someone and never called 911? You just left her lying there, all alone?”
I eyed him, thinking, You did the same, you jerk.
“I’m sorry. That’s what I came here to say. And when I leave here, I’m going straight to the authorities to confess my crime.” Trish tipped her head to the side, studying Charles. “You should come with me. You can bring Lacey’s hat as part of the evidence to back up my story. Of course, that will probably mean that you’ll have to explain how it came to be on Marlis’s head that morning. I mean”—Trish sniffed—“how Lacey left it at your apartment.”
Charles took another step forward. “I’ll do nothing of the kind.”
“Don’t you want to close the case on your girlfriend’s death?” Trish’s eyes narrowed. “Or is this why you never turned in the hat to the authorities?”
I remembered Richard’s words about Clarion’s “no tolerance” policy. “That’s it—you didn’t care about protecting Lacey. You simply wanted to keep your affair with a student a secret.” I slapped my forehead. “Stupid me, thinking you might actually care about someone else, when all you wanted to do was to protect your own career.”
“You …” Charles swore and lunged forward to grab my arm. “After everything I did for you.”
“What exactly was that?” I grimaced as his fingers dug into my wrist.
“I gave you a polish you never had before. Tried to teach you some sophistication and improve your frumpy ways.” He looked me up and down. “Although I see it didn’t stick.”
“Let go of her,” Trish said.
Charles and I turned as one. Trish stood with her legs spread slightly apart and the revolver pointed at my former boyfriend.
“You can’t be serious.” Charles dropped my wrist and stepped to the side.
“Don’t make any sudden moves, and don’t underestimate me, Mr. Bartos. I’m quite experienced with handling guns. Ask Ms. Webber.”
I nodded. “I found out that she was on a sharpshooter team in high school, so, yeah, she knows what she’s doing.”
“Really?” Charles sucked in a deep breath. “We have that in common then, Ms. Alexander.” He shot me a cynical smile. “I’m afraid I didn’t reveal all of my skills to Amy, but then, we didn’t share that much about our younger years.”
I leaned back against the island to steady myself. “You shoot?”
“Yes. Not so much anymore, but I did quite a bit of that sort of thing when I was young. There wasn’t much else to do in my little midwestern town. As a matter of fact, I was quite good. I even tried out for the Olympics.” A sardonic grin twisted his lips. “You’d never have expected that of me, would you, Amy? Of course, you never asked. You were so sure you knew me well, but you see—you only scratched the surface.”
“Should’ve scratched your eyes out,” I muttered, cradling my wrist in my other hand.
“The thing is”—Charles eyed Trish before striding forward and smacking her so hard that she stumbled and fell to the floor—“I don’t think I want either of you sharing your little theories about Lacey with the sheriff’s department or the police.” He kicked a stunned Trish’s hand.
Trish howled as his foot connected. She opened her fingers, releasing the gun, which Charles immediately snatched up with a tissue he’d yanked from his pocket.
“Now,” he said, straightening and pointing the gun at Trish. “Get up and join Amy.”
I stared at him, and my mouth dropped open. Never in my wildest dreams would I have pictured Charles slapping or kicking anyone, much less a woman, or wielding a gun with such nonchalant expertise.
But he’s right, Amy. You didn’t know him. Not at all. You never saw him as the man he is—someone who’d cheat on Marlis just as he did you. Someone who’d seduce a student at his own university. A consummate liar who hid the hat, and his suspicions about Lacey, just to protect himself. I shivered as I stared into the steel-blue eyes of the man I’d once thought I loved. What else has he done?
“I can shoot you faster than you can move, so don’t try anything,” Charles said, backing over to a coat tree next to the door. Without l
ooking, he pulled a pair of driving gloves from a jacket pocket and slipped them on, expertly switching the gun from one hand to the other as he did so. “Now toss your phones over here.”
Of course, Trish still had mine. Wisely, she pulled out only hers at first, chucking it over to Charles.
“And the other one. I assume you took Amy’s,” Charles said, leveling the gun at Trish’s chest.
She sighed and threw my cell at him with so much force it skipped like a stone over water, landing at Charles’s feet. He stomped on both phones before kicking the shattered bits into the corner.
“What do you think you’re going to do with us?” I asked. “Surely you don’t plan to silence us forever. I mean, I may have seen some new sides of you today, but I don’t think you’re a killer.”
Charles’s eyebrows rose to the level of the silky hair spilling over his forehead. “Don’t you? Well, you’re wrong again, Amy.” He flashed me one of those brilliant smiles that had so charmed me in the past. “Who do you think shot Ramona Raymond?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I shared a quick, terrified look with Trish before I could make my mouth form any words. “You can’t be serious.”
“But I am.” Charles advanced on us, the revolver gleaming in his gloved hand. “Deadly serious.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“She tried to blackmail me. Threatened me with that same ridiculous story about Lacey Jacobs.” Charles lifted and dropped his slender shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “She wanted me to confess that I’d stolen her research for the Moon and Thistle Cycle.”
“And did you?”
“Of course not. Those lyrics are easy enough to find, and they’re in the public domain. She had no claim on any of my profits, and I certainly wasn’t going to give her a credit.” Charles pointed the gun at me and then Trish. “Just another delusion, like this foolish idea of yours that Lacey and I were having an affair.”
He still refused to admit that. I wondered why. “So Mona showed up and tried to pressure you, and what? You just shot her right here?” I stared at the pristine wooden floorboards. That had to be wrong. No way he could’ve cleaned up the blood without leaving any trace.
“No, I’m not that stupid. We argued and I was fine with that, especially since I knew I was in the right. In fact, the whole sordid encounter would’ve ended without incident until she lost her cool and hit me.” Charles touched the side of his face with his free hand. “Hard enough to leave a mark. After that, I defended myself.”
“You shot her?” Trish’s question ended in a squeak.
“No, I slapped her back. But then she fled the house, swearing she was going straight to the authorities. I couldn’t allow that.”
“You chased her down,” I said, as I realized how Mona must’ve ended up in the woods. “But the gun …”
“I knew Delbert Frye kept a loaded rifle in the shed next door, so I threw on my gloves, ran out and grabbed that gun, and followed her. That wasn’t hard. She made enough noise for three people. And since she’d foolishly parked up at the trailhead and walked down the forest path to reach my house, I had time to catch up with her.”
Recalling what Delbert had said about hearing noises, I realized the reason for the self-satisfied gleam in Charles’s eyes. “You went out that Thursday morning following Mona’s visit and made sure to crash about the woods, didn’t you? Just to set up a pattern of noise continuing after Mona’s death.”
“Why yes, as well as to …” Charles waved the gun at me. “Well, never mind about that. Now we’re all going to take a little walk.”
But I wasn’t ready to be marched out to my death, which is where I assumed this was headed. “And after you shot Mona, you simply returned the rifle to Delbert’s shed, hoping it would implicate him, I suppose.”
“That was one option. I also thought that if the rifle was never found on Frye’s property, Ramona’s death might be written off as a hunting accident by persons unknown.” As Charles looked me over, a little smirk twitched his lips. “You see how you’ve underestimated me, Amy?”
“I see how I never knew you at all. Oh, after we broke up, I did realize that you were an egomaniac, but a murderer? No, that one slipped by me.”
Charles stepped forward and shoved the revolver against my forehead. “Don’t mouth off at me. You aren’t nearly as clever as you think. Now let’s go.”
Neither are you, I thought, considering the difficulty Charles would face in trying to explain two more deaths or disappearances.
He won’t shoot us in the house, I realized. He’ll want to take us out into the woods. I planted my feet, determined not to move.
But the cold barrel of the gun against my temple didn’t lessen. Trish, I thought, realizing that neither of us would make it if we had no opportunity to escape. It could be easier for at least one of us to get away in the woods. There might be some small chance …
“All right, we’ll walk outside,” I said. “But remove that gun from my temple first.”
Charles stepped back. “Fine. Just remember that I will be right behind you, and I can shoot one or both of you in an instant if either of you make any wrong moves.”
I glanced at Trish, who had one hand on her stomach and one over her mouth, like she might vomit any second. “We understand. Right, Trish?”
The young woman nodded.
“Okay then—onto the deck,” Charles said.
Trish and I walked slowly toward the window wall at the back of the house. When we reached the French doors, I flipped the latch and then held the door open as Trish walked through.
Charles grabbed the edge of the door with his free hand. “Now you.”
I slid past him to join Trish on the deck.
“We’re going to head into the woods. There’s a short path from the edge of my yard that connects with the main trail,” Charles said, poking me in the back with the barrel of the revolver.
“You really think if you shoot us, anyone will write it off as an accident? The sheriff’s department impounded Delbert’s rifle from the shed, and hunters don’t typically use revolvers,” I said as we made our way off the deck and across the yard.
“Shut up and walk,” Charles replied.
The moment we entered the woods, the light dimmed and the temperature dropped several degrees. I shuffled my feet, kicking up last fall’s decomposing leaves.
Charles poked me with the gun again. “Pick up your feet and move.”
“Must be insane,” Trish mumbled, with a quick glance at me.
I shook my head. Charles wasn’t crazy, just so self-centered that he valued only one thing in the universe—himself. And apparently he was so focused on protecting his career that he was willing to murder anyone who might damage his reputation.
As Trish and I walked single file, with Charles’s footfalls rustling the leaves on the path behind us, I swept my gaze from side to side, searching for any means of escape. The sharp scent of pine, mingled with the faint odor of mold and animal droppings, filled my nostrils as I took deep breaths to keep from screaming. I had no doubt that Charles would shoot either one of us if we made too much noise, and I wanted at least one chance at escape before I met that fate.
“Take a hard left into the woods here,” Charles said.
Trish glanced back at him. “There’s no path.”
“Just do it.” Charles pointed the gun at her forehead.
Trish and I plunged into the undergrowth, kicking aside clusters of mushrooms and tangled vines.
He’s taking us to a spot where he can shoot us. With the gun Trish took from Chris’s car. I sucked in a ragged breath. Of course. Charles was obviously planning to kill me, then Trish, and somehow make it look like she’d murdered me before shooting herself. Maybe with the motive being my discovery of her secret? Charles probably knew that I’d been involved in solving a few recent murders. Perhaps he thought he could spin a story that involved me telling him that I’d discovered Trish’s
crime using my research skills and that I’d vowed to confront her about it. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that she’d subsequently shot me, then killed herself when she realized what she’d done.
I followed Trish’s slender back, my mind racing. We had to get away from Charles, but how?
“Watch out,” Trish said as she held back an arching fountain of blackberry vines. She pointed at a deep gulley off to our right with her other hand. “Can’t walk around that.”
As I took hold of the vines from her, one of the thorns stabbed me—a jolt of pain that gave me an idea. Maybe a really bad idea, but it might at least guarantee Trish, who was in front of me, a fighting chance. Holding in my pain, I yanked the vines forward, then jumped under them as I let them go. They snapped back like a thorn-studded whip.
Charles’s scream told me I’d hit my target. I spun around in time to see him shove the gun into his pocket before clawing at the thorns embedded in his face.
“Run!” I yelled at Trish, while thrusting out one leg and bending my knee to hook it around Charles’s calf. As he stumbled, I shoved him off the path. He tumbled into the deep gulley with a thud, but the string of curse words rising up from the ditch told me that he was still alive and kicking.
I couldn’t get to the gun without moving in too close, so I just turned and ran after Trish. If we can get far enough way, or hide, before Charles is able to climb out of that hole and get back on his feet …
It was a long shot, but any chance was better than none. I dashed through the woods, ignoring the vines ripping at my bare lower arms and the rocks stubbing my toes inside my thin leather loafers.
“We need to find the trail,” I told Trish when I finally caught up with her. She stopped, pressed one hand against a slender tree trunk, and breathed heavily.
“I have no idea where that is,” she said, looking up through the thick canopy of leaves. “And I can’t even see enough of the sky to know what’s north or south or anything else.” Trish met my concerned gaze. “Pretty sure we’re lost.”
Past Due for Murder Page 21