“How do you think Oscar and I became partners in the first place? Huh? You think he just set me up in business out of the goodness of his heart? Oscar Champion?” This was followed by a third derisive snort and a waggle of the gun she held. “Why don’t you sit down? You’re making me nervous.”
“I’m making you nervous?” Cynthia and Oscar? That was a surprise. Jesse pulled out a dinner chair and sat. “You’re the one who keeps waving a gun around. Do you even know how to use that thing?”
“Not really.” With Jesse seated, Cynthia moved closer, stepping more fully into the moonlight. The gun in her hand looked huge in the ghostly glow of the room. “Tommy gave it to me for protection. He doesn’t trust Oscar any more than I do. But the safety’s off, so I have to be careful not to fire it accidentally.”
“Oh, Lord,” Jesse said under her breath. “You realize you’re just as likely to shoot yourself as someone else, don’t you? Why don’t you put that thing down?”
Cynthia held the handgun loosely, casually, twisting it higher to get a better look. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I kind of like holding it.” Then she dropped her arm again and readjusted the pistol’s aim toward Jesse’s midsection. “Just don’t upset me.”
Jesse wanted to look away, take a deep breath and relax, but it was like looking away from a snake that was coiled and ready to strike. “Well, since you want me to have seen Ronnie when I didn’t, that might be kind of difficult. Why does it matter to you anyway if I saw Ronnie or not?”
“Because…Oscar gave him something, and I want it back.”
“I know Ronnie resold his percentage of the gallery to Oscar earlier in the day,” Jesse offered. “But what’s that got to do with you?”
“That sale gave Oscar almost total control of the gallery.” Cynthia leaned in closer with each word she spat out. “But that cashier’s check is as good as cash. And with everything in my life falling apart, Ronnie owes me that.”
“I know several people who would disagree with you on that. But, tell me, Cynthia, were you willing to kill Ronnie to get it?”
“Are you crazy?” The gun wavered and Cynthia drew back. “Of course not!”
“Well, you’re in my house with a gun, and I can’t tell if you’re threatening me or trying to make friends with me. So why are you here, and what do you want?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” the woman shouted, waving the gun wildly in the air. “I want you to be miserable, like me! I’ve lost everything. Do you understand that? Everything! What have you lost?”
“What do I have to do with it? I hadn’t seen Ronnie in years. We hadn’t even spoken. If Misty hadn’t shown up here, I wouldn’t have even known you existed.” Jesse resisted the temptation to do a bit of her own arm waving. She did, however, lean as far forward in her chair as she dared. “Now Ronnie’s dead, and I’ve got a crazy woman waving a gun around in my house. And you don’t even have the decency to make sense! So put up or shut up, Cynthia. If you killed Ronnie, say so.” For emphasis, Jesse smacked her hand down on the tabletop next to her. “If you didn’t, get out of my house!”
“I don’t know! I can’t remember. I think I talked to him. I’m not sure.” Cynthia pressed her palms to the sides of her head with the gun still clutched in one hand.
Jesse started to reach out. Then she stopped herself, afraid she’d make matters worse. “Cynthia, please, put the gun down. You’re going to shoot yourself in the head if you’re not careful. You’re making me very nervous.”
“What do you care? Nobody cares.”
“Your husband cares.”
Cynthia dropped her hands to her side and swayed on her feet. “Tommy? Did he say that? I remember we argued, but I can’t remember anything after that. Tommy and I had a fight, and I went looking for Ronnie. And after that, it’s all a blur. My life’s falling apart, and I don’t know how to put it back together again. I don’t even understand what happened.”
What might have sounded sad coming from another person just sounded whiney and complaining coming from Cynthia, who seemed to create most of her own problems.
“Well, just don’t pass out again,” Jesse said, losing her temper. “Did you ever eat today?”
“My life is over!” Cynthia wailed, waving the gun wildly as she flung her hands in the air. “Who can eat?”
“At least put the damned gun down before you drop it,” Jesse ordered.
When the other woman extended the weapon and stared at it as if she had forgotten it was there, Jesse reacted out of instinct. Grabbing the woman’s wrist, Jesse banged Cynthia’s gun hand down on the tabletop.
The gun flew out of her hand, spun across the table and slid off the other side. Colliding with a chair before it hit the floor, it discharged somewhere along the way. The fierceness of the explosion left a taint of gunpowder in the air that was strong enough to taste as Jesse gasped in shock.
Cynthia screamed and collapsed.
“Dear heavens, not again,” Jesse exclaimed as she dropped to her knees beside the fallen woman. “Are you shot?”
Her head rolling from side to side, Cynthia moaned while Jesse felt for blood and fervently wished she had thought to turn on a light on her way into the room.
“Is she dying?” a man’s voice cheerfully asked. “Probably not. That would be far too simple for her.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Dammit, would somebody turn on a light,” Jesse called irritably. “Please. And who are you?”
“That doesn’t really matter.” The man’s disembodied voice sounded almost bored. “But I would sincerely appreciate it if you could guide me to the cashier’s check that Cynthia was inquiring about. Its return would be extremely beneficial.”
“Really, I don’t know why everyone keeps going on about that check. I saw it. It was a nice sum, but not really enough money to be worthy of all this fuss.”
Looking down again quickly, Jesse could see no spreading pools of blood, no splotches on clothing, no telltale sticky dampness on her hands. The woman on the floor appeared limp but not lifeless, nor in physical pain.
“Value, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, my dear lady,” the man continued. “And since it’s my money in question, it has value to me if not to anyone else.”
Jesse squinted into the darkness trying to make out the features of the unimposing figure who appeared to be holding yet another gun pointed in her direction.
“Is that the same gun?” Jesse asked wondering how hard would it have been for her to pick up the gun herself before tending to Cynthia? Not a noble thought, she realized, but still—she was getting pretty fed up with having guns pointed at her. Especially if it kept being the same gun.
“Yes, and I would like to thank you for knocking it out of her hands. I would never have had the guts to do that myself. Well played by the way. Fearless. Heedless. I’m impressed.”
Or stupid, thoughtless, and when was she ever going to learn, Jesse couldn’t help thinking before she said aloud, “Oscar Champion, I presume.”
She envisioned the unremarkable man who had sat sipping coffee in the tearoom only that morning. Then she envisioned him holding the sizable pistol she could have and should have confiscated herself.
The featureless shadow across from her bent at the waist in a courtly bow and said pleasantly, “Sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. I really do need that check, though. If I could impose upon you.”
“What makes you think I’ve got it?”
“Bennett didn’t have it on him. It wasn’t in his room, either.” He nodded toward Cynthia’s inert body, which had ceased to twitch or even moan. “She didn’t have it. And it wasn’t in her room, which I checked long before the police showed up there. Bennett never got near his kid, but I’m thinking that sometime during the course of today you, dear lady, managed to find it.”
“What do you mean that Cynthia didn’t have it? When did you search her? Oh, my goodness.” Jesse pressed a hand to the base of her throat while a surge of g
enuine shock went through her. His remark echoed in her head and she mentally tracked the chain of last night’s event. “You! You almost killed her last night. In my kitchen!”
He smiled and jerked a shoulder dismissively, showing more pride than remorse.
“You were trying to kill her,” Jesse accused. “But why?” Before he could answer, which he showed no real sign of doing, she held up a hand. “Wait—when did you search Ronnie? After the accident? Was he dead already or did you kill him? But why?” Genuinely puzzled, she stared at him in surprise. “You’re the one who gave him the check, so why would you kill him to get it back?”
“My dear woman, please. How do you expect to get any answers if you never stop asking questions?” He extended the gun toward her, wiggling the tip of its barrel. “But first, answer one for me. Where is that check?”
“Why don’t you knock me over the head and then blunder around the house trying to find it? It’s worked so well for you so far.”
He sighed impatiently. “I really despise sarcasm.” He wiggled the gun again. “Are you really sure it’s such a great idea to bait me?”
“For the sake of argument, let’s say that I had the check. And then let’s say that I gave it to you. Do you really expect me to believe that you’d say ‘thank you,’ then turn around and walk out the door?”
“Oh, no, that wouldn’t happen,” he agreed with a shake of his head. “I need Cynthia dead, you see, in order to have the gallery revert fully to me. Survivorship and all. And while Bennett might have been done with her, he would have smelled a rat when Cynthia died so soon after I bought his percentage back. And I really doubt if even he would have kept quiet about something like that. I couldn’t take the chance anyway.”
“You mean Ronnie had to die just so you could kill Cynthia without arousing suspicion? And you think her husband wouldn’t have noticed something?”
“Ex-husband,” he corrected.
“They’re tearing up the paperwork,” Jesse said, trying not to sound as smug as she felt. “He’s decided he still loves her after all.”
“The hell you say!”
Knowing she was playing with fire and doing it anyway, she continued, “Your new artist has no intention of giving up his darling Cyndi. And if you’re planning to kill me, too, how many people do you think you can do away with in a single weekend without looking like a serial killer on the loose?”
“Ha!” His laugh was a short burst that came from the belly. “You have a sense of humor. I like that.”
“What do you hope to gain from all of this?” Even knowing he was a killer, Jesse still found it hard to take the innocuous little man seriously, gun or no gun.
“Do you know what it’s like for a gallery to discover a world class talent? Do you know the prestige? The money?” His voice took on a swell of pride and awe she hadn’t heard in him before. “The fame that a new artist of that caliber conveys on the agent who presents him to the world?”
“Tommy Stanton?” She had seen his work in the gallery opening SueAnn had found online. Jesse had seen a glimpse of a unique talent, but she still had a bit of trouble taking Stanton seriously, as well.
“Thomas Stanton is a new presence in art,” Oscar Champion said in a voice charged with passion. “And I have an exclusive contract with him. No one buys his work without coming through me. No one exhibits his art without coming through me. Finally, I am a power to be reckoned with.”
“You’re serious about that.” Jesse could hear her own disbelief.
“Stop saying that! Of course, I’m serious.”
“You killed someone! And you tried to kill someone else!”
“A trifle.” He dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “She’ll never know what happened. And for you, I promise to make it quick and painless.”
“Well, gee whiz, thanks a lot. You little toad, you wouldn’t dare!”
“There’s no need to be offensive. At the moment, this isn’t personal. I was quite considerate with Bennett, and I’ll show you the same consideration.”
“Prove it,” Jesse demanded, forgetting that she should be humoring him. “Prove these aren’t just the rantings of a lunatic. How did you kill Ronnie?”
“It wasn’t exactly hard, since his fiancée had run him off the road and left him unconscious behind the wheel. Not sure if the accident did that or she did when she was looking for the check. Anyway, I followed her when she left, thinking she had the check with her.”
“Is that how she ended up on my kitchen floor?”
He shrugged. “It was easier than arguing with her. When it was apparent, she didn’t have it, I had to go back to the wreck. Imagine my surprise when he came to while I was rifling through his pockets. I thought he was dead until he shoved me away and started groping for his phone.”
“Was that when he called me?”
“I have no idea. He never talked to anyone.”
“He said my name.”
“But I don’t know your name, do I? Besides, I was preoccupied with wrestling the phone away. Are you going to let me finish?” he asked, sounding a little peevish.
“Was it an accident, at least?” Jesse asked with what tiny bit of patience she had remaining.
“Not really. Bennett staggered out to the ditch and fell face down. It’s not hard to break the neck of a man in such an awkward position. As I’ve mentioned, he had to die anyway if I was going to kill my darling Cynthia.”
“Your darling?” Without warning, Cynthia rolled onto her back and blinked herself back to the world of the living. “You still care?” she asked in a voice weak with hope.
“That was sarcasm,” Oscar snapped. “I swear you’ve got a hard head on you. What does it take to put you down and keep you down?”
“But why? We had a good thing, Oscar.”
“You’re a liar, and a cheat, and a double-crosser. And a sloppy kisser, in case no one’s ever told you. And I’m just not that into you, sweetheart. Is that enough, or do I need to go on?”
“But that’s no reason to kill me.” Still on her back, Cynthia reached out to him.
“I feel it safe to say that you are one of the greatest disappointments of my life, Cynthia, dear. I had such hopes for you, for our partnership, for your talent as an artist. And you turned it all to ashes.”
“But you loved me once.”
“As well as one can love a lie,” he said with a sniff.
“You could love me again.” Her voice rang with promise while her arm dropped back to the floor.
“I believed in you,” he shouted. Air sucked into his chest, swelling him visibly. His face suffused with a dark cherry stain. “I thought you were a true artist. I believed in your talent. You made a fool of me and made a mockery of all I hoped for us to achieve together.” Spittle sprayed as he screamed at her.
“I’m so sorry, Oscar. I never meant for that to happen.”
“Of course, you did. You lied. You worked behind my back. You used my reputation to build your own. And then you deceived everyone, including the man whose work you were stealing and passing off as your own.”
“But he was my husband,” she said plaintively. “His paintings were mine as much as his.”
“You stupid, stupid woman! You vile cow! God, how I despise you!” He took a step toward Cynthia, his arm stiff and the gun extended directly toward her head.
“No!” Jesse reached out. “You can’t do that!”
“Get back.” He dodged away. “And don’t be ridiculous. I’ve already killed one man for far less. How many times do I have to try to kill her before she finally dies?”
“But if you kill her in front of me, you’ll never get away with it, and no court will give you full ownership of the gallery. You’re destroying everything you’ve worked to achieve.”
His shoulders sagged and he huffed in disgust. “Well, of course, I’ll have to kill you, too. I thought I had made myself clear on that.”
“You can’t just keep killing people,�
� Jesse said. “After a while, you’re going to be caught.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “But not here. And not now. Not in a hick town like Myrtle Grove, Oklahoma. And not with a squad of buffoons like your local police force.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“Oh, come now. I might as well be invisible as far as your illustrious sheriff is concerned. Everyone else has been brought in for questioning, but my presence has been ignored completely. Me.” He thumped his chest. “The man who did it all.”
“Everyone else was directly tied to Ronnie Bennett, either personally or through Cynthia Stanton,” Jesse argued. “You were a business associate. And as far as anyone knew, that’s all you were. Until you came traipsing in here and started waving a gun around. If you’d just left town quietly, no one could have proved a thing.”
“But she would have still been alive.” He pointed the gun barrel toward Cynthia’s head. “And it would have all been for nothing. Now…” The gun swung upward to aim directly at Jesse’s midsection. “Where is that cashier’s check? I’m afraid that if you’re not able to supply it, I’ll have to locate Bennett’s daughter and ask her about it.” His smile was thin and tight while his voice softened to a whisper. “And you don’t want that, do you?”
“It’s upstairs,” Jesse said quickly. “Are you going to trust me to get it? Or will you try to manage both of us at the same time?” She jerked her head toward Cynthia, who was now propped up on one elbow and watching them intently.
“No problem.”
Faster than Jesse could react, he swung the gun back to Cynthia, and an instant later a shot rang out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Horrified, Jesse watched Cynthia collapse in a heap. The gun slipped from Oscar’s suddenly limp fingers and crashed to the floor. His legs crumpled and he dropped to his knees, then pitched forward onto his face. The thud of his body hitting the floor was followed by a low moan.
Jesse heard a distant screaming, then slowly realized it was her. She clapped both hands over her mouth to smother the sound that she couldn’t seem to stop. Strong arms closed around her and pulled her against a solid, warm wall of chest. She could hear the hard beating of a heart against her ear and the horror began to recede.
A Misty Morning Murder (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 4) Page 20