Secrets, Lies & Homicide

by Patricia Dusenbury

  "I wonder if a phone call from Paul Gilbert figured in his research," Claire said. "Paul wanted to help, but he was worried about a conflict of interest. He could have checked with the Devereux family and gotten a go-ahead."

  "That's an interesting suggestion." Tony said. "The Devereux family or Pineland Corporation, which might be the same thing, is trying to buy me off."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Shylock again. He says Pineland Corporation will pay me half a million for the farm, three or four times what it's worth." He laughed without humor. "Geneviève had something on them and now they think I do."

  "What did you say?"

  "I told Shylock to tell them no."

  "No?"

  "Pineland sold the land for one dollar, and now they want to buy one-fourth of it back for half a million. I don't know what this is about, but I'm not for sale."

  "And neither is your house. Do you want to look around anyway?"

  "I was inside yesterday, remember? You were with me." He winked.

  Claire felt her cheeks warm. Of course she remembered. The bed was still there, the sheets still tangled.

  "It's my birthday and Valentine's Day. I know a nice restaurant."

  "Look at me, Tony." She ran her hands down her tee shirt and dirty jeans.

  "I'll pick you up at your house at seven. Is an hour and a half enough time?"

  "More than enough."

  Tony drove away and Claire went back inside to turn off the lights. She was about to walk out the front door when a white Toyota sedan pulled up and parked behind Felicia. A woman got out, rummaged in her purse, and pulled out a pair of gloves, which she put on. She slung the strap over her shoulder and strode up the sidewalk like a soldier marching to battle.

  Claire stopped, her hand on the door knob.

  What on earth is Laura Bethea doing here? That's not the car she was driving when she stopped by the office. Why is her hand in her purse? What is she holding? Why the gloves? It's not cold.

  She remembered Bea's warning and flashed back to the office visit, to Laura clutching her purse, a different one, as if it held a gold bar. Laura's insistence on going inside and talking had vanished when Jack and Reggie showed up.

  Laura Bethea's uncle was married to Tony's mother, years ago when all of this started. Laura hated Geneviève.

  Laura had started up the steps. In another thirty seconds, they'd be face to face.

  Claire turned and ran. The door to the attic steps was in the master closet. Laura wouldn't know that. She hadn't drawn diagrams of the house.

  "Claire, it's Laura Bethea. I was driving past and saw your car."

  Huddled halfway up the attic stairs, Claire considered the possibility that she was acting like an idiot. Laura had talked to Anne Currier about hiring her company, Felicia was parked out front and she was a distinctive car. But how did Laura know what her car looked like, and why had she just walked in without knocking?

  "Claire, where are you?" Laura's high heels tap tapped on the wood floors as she moved from room to room, and her voice took on an edge of annoyance. The sound of doors opening and shutting told Claire she was searching the house.

  Claire crept up the stairs, keeping to the edge of the steps to avoid any creak that might give her away. Reggie had been up here, shoving furniture around to make room for his vents. She followed the path he'd cleared, looking for a place to hide in case Laura found the attic door.

  An old armoire was big enough to hold her. Once inside, Claire pulled out her mobile phone. She silenced the ringer and dialed 911. "This is an urgent message for Captain Robinson or Detective Washington. Tell them Laura Bethea is at Tony's house, 712 Terpsichore. I think she has a gun. Come quickly."

  "What is your name and location?"

  "Claire Marshall. 712 Terpsichore. If you can't reach either of them, send someone else. Hurry. Please."

  Just as she ended the call, she heard the front door open again, heard heavier footsteps this time. The police already? They must have been waiting outside. She climbed out of the armoire.

  "Claire, where are you?" Tony called. "I forgot to mention—"

  His footsteps stopped. "You," he said. "What are you doing here?"

  CHAPTER 39

  Claire eased over to one of the openings for the HVAC vents. She was above the linen closet now. Light from the hall came in through the closet's half-open door. If she craned her neck, she could see Tony's legs. He was standing a few feet inside the front door.

  "Why are you looking for Claire?" Tony sounded puzzled.

  "We have some matters to discuss, but now that you're here, too. I 'm going to kill two birds with one stone." Laura's laugh held an edge of hysteria.

  "Have you made up your mind about that car?"

  "Did you really fall for that? Shame on you Cousin Tony, you're supposed to be intelligent."

  "Cousin? Where did that come from? Are we long lost cousins?" Tony's tense tone belied his casual words.

  "I really should have told you the other day, but I wanted to surprise you."

  "I thought you looked familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on where I'd seen you. You don't look like Geneviève. I'm guessing your mother was one of dad's models."

  "You know damn well Jim Burke wasn't your father. You're a Devereux, and so am I."

  Claire worked herself through the vent opening. Head, one shoulder, and then the other. She pulled the rest of her body through as quietly as she could, while bracing on the sides to keep from tumbling headfirst into the linen closet.

  Using the framing as a ladder, she started to climb down, moving as quickly as she dared while being careful not to make any noise. A protruding nail caught the back of her tee shirt and held. Trying to free herself only made it worse. She wriggled out of the shirt and kept going. In a few more feet, she'd be on the floor. Tony and Laura were still talking. She reached bottom and crept over to the hole for the ceiling vent.

  The closet was dark, but Tony should be able to see her. If he would just take his eyes off Laura and look up.

  "How about moving our family reunion into the living room."

  "Stay back."

  "What's this really about?"

  "I told myself it was all Claire's doing, that you weren't involved. I saw her Sunday when she cleared out Geneviève's apartment. The next day, she was in Greensburg, asking questions and copying documents. I knew then that Geneviève had left one of those 'open after my death' letters. She was the type, melodramatic to the end." Laura's voice shifted from contemptuous to regretful. "I tried to get to Claire quickly, before she infected you, but I couldn't find her alone."

  Claire stared at Tony while Laura talked, willing him to notice her. She waved her hands in hopes the motion would catch his eye.

  "I don't know anything about a letter," Tony said. "Geneviève left me as little as she thought she could get away with."

  "You're talking about the trusts. I fixed that, but you weren't satisfied. When you turned down Pineland's offer, I knew it was too late. If you had just taken the money and kept quiet like your mother did, I wouldn't be here. You and Claire are greedy. It's never going to end."

  "Claire's not here. She must have walked out the back door just as you walked in the front."

  "How gallant of you, Tony, but I know better. Claire's in the attic. I heard her moving when you called her." She raised her voice. "Claire, come down here or Tony will be sorry you didn't."

  "You probably heard the rain. It's raining hard, but I'll bet you're prepared. You have an umbrella, don't you? I'm positive you have an umbrella in your purse."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Umbrellas. Don't you know what an umbrella is? You must be distracted." Tony pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He cut a quick glance at the ceiling and held the other three fingers up.

  Claire nodded her understanding.

  "Claire, if you don't get down here, I'll hurt Tony and come after you."


  Tony folded his arms across his chest. He lifted one finger, then two, then three.

  Claire flung the closet door open so hard it slammed against the wall. She dropped through the hole, landed on the floor and rolled toward Laura, the whole time yelling, "Laura! Laura! Laura!" Watch me, Laura, Take your eyes off Tony for just a few seconds.

  She looked up.

  Laura was looking at her. And pointing the gun at her.

  Tony grabbed Laura's wrist. He forced her arm up so that the gun pointed at the ceiling. "Let it go."

  Laura clawed at his face with her free hand and tried to spike his instep with her high heel.

  He wrapped his other arm around her and lifted her off her feet.

  She kicked wildly at his legs and groin.

  His punch snapped her head back. The gun fell to the floor.

  Claire kicked it into the bedroom, out of reach.

  Tony released Laura's wrist and she crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Call an ambulance and the police."

  "I called 911 from the attic, but I'll call again."

  "I've never hit a woman before." He picked Laura up, carried her into the bedroom and lay her on the bed.

  "If you hadn't hit her, she would have killed us both."

  "She stopped by the dealership a couple days ago, but I don't know who she is. My cousin?"

  "She's Roger Devereux's niece."

  "Do you know what's going on?"

  "No, but I think the police do. They learned something from those DNA tests."

  "Where are the police?" He looked her up and down. "And where are the rest of your clothes?"

  "I got caught on a nail on my way down."

  He took his shirt off and draped it around her shoulders. "I hear a siren."

  The ambulance arrived first. Minutes later, a police car raced up. Claire led the uniformed officers back to the bedroom where Tony was watching the EMTs work on Laura, who was still unconscious. Claire saw the policemen look around and became aware of her disheveled appearance, Tony without a shirt and the rumpled bed. She felt heat rising in her cheeks.

  Tony put a protective arm around her shoulder.

  One of the policemen gestured for them to move to the far corner of the bedroom. "You two wait over there."

  "Her gun is under the dresser." Claire started to tremble, only now realizing how frightened she'd been.

  Tony held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring comforting words.

  The EMTs strapped Laura, now semi-conscious and moaning, onto a stretcher. They were preparing to carry her out to the ambulance when Mike and Bea arrived.

  "Are you two okay," Bea said.

  Mike conferred with the EMTs and assigned one of the uniformed officers to accompany Laura to the hospital. "As soon as she regains consciousness, tell her she's under arrest for attempted murder and read her her rights."

  "Is she going to be all right?" Tony exhaled hard. "Even if she planned to kill... I still don't want..."

  "She'll recover," an EMT said. "At worse she has a broken jaw and a mild concussion. Neither is fatal,"

  "Claire and Tony, would you please wait in another room." Mike asked the other officer to stay with them and make sure they were as comfortable as possible.

  After several minutes that felt like hours, Mike and Bea joined them. "We have a team on the way," he said. "They'll take pictures and gather evidence. Meanwhile, we'd like you to describe exactly what happened. I'm sure you're tired, but we want to get your version of events while everything is fresh. Bea will talk to Claire and I'll talk to Tony."

  "I can tell you what happened, but I don't get it," Tony said. "Claire says that woman is Roger Devereux's niece. Why did she come after me?"

  "We think she was protecting her uncle," Mike said.

  "She said he was my father. Maybe he was, but I still don't get it."

  "He may have been the accomplice you've been looking for."

  "Are you saying that my biological father killed the man who raised me?"

  Claire heard the horror in Tony's voice. She put her arm around his waist and held him close.

  "I doubt we will ever know the full truth about Jim Burke's death," Mike said. "But I expect no difficulty proving that Laura Bethea killed your mother and Iris Burton and intended to kill you."

  "And Claire," Tony said.

  "You were being set up," Bea said. "We found your confession slash suicide note in Laura's purse. Lucky for you, Claire was here."

  "Luckier than you know," Tony said.

  Claire only half listened as he praised her courage. All she cared about was that he was safe beside her, his body warm against hers. She was so tired, if she weren't leaning against him, she'd fall over.

  Tony started to describe the confrontation, but Mike held up a hand. "We'd like to talk to each of you separately. If this case goes to court, Mrs. Bethea will be very ably represented. We are going to do this by the book. And we need the truth from you, no lies, not even little white ones. We know more than you realize."

  Claire knew Mike's eyes were on her, but she didn't have the energy to meet his gaze. She felt Tony's arm tighten around her. "Tell the truth," she told him. "I'm going to."

  She marveled at Mike's demeanor. He'd just told her that he knew she and Tony were lovers, and he had done it with zero emotion. He had knocked the underpinnings out from under Tony without a trace of regret. She wanted to shake him and demand he act like a human being.

  "We'll tape our conversations and get them transcribed," Mike said. "Tomorrow or when you're feeling up to it, we'll ask you to come in, read over the statements and sign them. If you'd like to have a lawyer present now or then, just say so, and we can reconvene when you've arranged representation."

  She and Bea stayed in the living room, while Mike and Tony went to the kitchen. The Scene of the Crime crew arrived and was directed to the hall and the attic. Part way through the interview, one of the techs appeared carrying her tee shirt. She explained how it had come to be hanging on a nail halfway down the interior wall, and her shirt went into an evidence bag.

  When they finished giving their statements, Mike told them they were free to leave if they wished. The police would lock the house when they finished.

  "Leave your car here, sweetheart," Tony said. "Come back to my apartment with me. If you want to go home, I'll drive you there, but first, I'm going to feed you."

  "Food? Are you kidding?" She had stopped shaking, but she couldn't imagine eating.

  "I bought some of the tea you like, and I'll fix you a couple pieces of toast. See if you don't feel better with something in your stomach."

  "How do you know what kind of tea I like?"

  "I saw what you have in your kitchen, and so I bought some for mine." They'd reached his car, and he opened the door to help her in.

  "You're very observant."

  "I like to observe you." He smiled at her. "It goes both ways. I've seen you watching me. We're alike. That's why we were able to communicate and Laura didn't have a clue. We understand each other so well, it's almost supernatural."

  Claire leaned back against the leather headrest. "We must have known each other in a past life."

  "We were great lovers like Anthony and Cleopatra."

  "I don't believe that one ended very well." She rested her hand on Tony's leg. They were going to be okay.

  CHAPTER 40

  "This is lovely," Mike surveyed the gardens, lovely in the low evening light. "Thank you for inviting me here."

  "It's my pleasure," Paul said. "But I have to admit selfish reasons. I want our discussion to be relaxed and off the record." He smiled. "I saw you flinch. Don't worry. I'm not asking you to compromise yourself. I merely want to share the truth as I know it and ask your understanding." He lifted a wine bottle. "May I pour you a glass?"

  Mike took a sip. The wine tasted of grapes and rust, plus something exquisite and indefinable. He couldn't imagine how much the bottle must have cost. "Can we agree that Laura Bethea is
guilty of two murders and two attempted murders? The evidence is overwhelming."

  "I'm not concerned about Laura's fate. No." He looked out over the garden. "That's not completely accurate. I do care about her, and I believe she acted to protect Roger. She told me what happened the morning Geneviève died. Would you like to hear it?"

  "Of course, but you know I'm obligated to pass relevant information on to the prosecutor."

  "What I'm going to tell you will be used by the defense," Paul said. "It was a crime of passion, and I believe she will escape the death penalty."

  "For her first murder."

  "Perhaps for her second as well, although incarceration for the rest of her natural life may be a worse fate. Roger is a different matter. The story begins with Jim Burke's death."

  "Sometimes the truth does not out," Mike said. "Geneviève is dead and whatever Roger knows is trapped within his dementia. We have no other witnesses."

  "But you have suspicions," Paul said.

  "Suspicions that Roger was involved in Jim Burke's death, yes, but we have no interest in pursuing the matter. He's clearly not competent to stand trial." Roger Devereux might have gotten away with murder, but no one could envy him his life.

  "My father will be relieved to hear that." Paul held his glass up to the light. The setting sun reflected amber in the wine. They sat in companionable silence, sipping the wine, admiring the lovely landscape. The sun sank lower in the sky, the shadows lengthened and the fragrances intensified. "Smell the nicotiana," Paul said. "It releases its fragrance when the sun sets. It's a scruffy plant, but the scent justifies its existence."

  "You must enjoy spending time here."

  "After Laura was arrested, my father told me things he should have mentioned sooner. I feel it's my professional responsibility to share what I've learned, although much of it is hearsay and by now third hand." Paul leaned back and steepled his fingers. "Still, it leads us to Laura's motive."

  Mike recognized a gesture used to buy time and he waited.

  "I don't know how much Laura told you about Roger and Geneviève's marriage," Paul began.