Charley’s head shot up, and she shot Natalie a somewhat dazed look. She opened her mouth to speak and then apparently thought better of it. She shrugged, and then her pen started to move across the paper. My eyes darted quickly around the small kitchen, finally coming to rest on a tote bag sprawled on a chair just to the left of the window. My eyes widened as they fastened on an object that was sticking out of the top of the tote—it appeared to be the edge of a brown leather book with a ripped edge. I pressed closer, trying to get a better look. I could make out two initials on the cover of the book. One was partially obscured by the edge of a scarf sticking up, but I was pretty sure the other one was an L. An L for Littleton. That had to be the missing diary! I stood up and took a step backward, stepping on a loose board that let out a loud creak! “Darn,” I muttered.
Inside the house, I heard a chair scrape back. “What was that noise?” I heard Natalie ask.
I didn’t wait to hear more. I fairly flew off the porch and started to run toward the bushes where my car was parked. As I ran, I whipped out my cell, intending to call Will, but when I went to turn it on—nothing. Damn, no reception here in the sticks. It would have to wait until I got a bit farther out.
I was almost at the spot where my car was hidden when I heard a door bang open behind me and a woman’s sharp cry.
“Well, well. Seems we’ve got company!”
I broke into a run. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Natalie, her face contorted in an expression of hatred, coming after me, her hands balled into fists. I sped up, my sneakered feet fairly flying over the gravel. Finally, I reached my car and hopped inside. Toby glanced up sleepily from his position on the front seat, then lifted his head as I switched on the ignition and slammed the car into reverse.
“Hang on, boy,” I told him. “We’ve got to burn rubber and get Will and Bennington down here ASAP.”
I backed up and made a sharp turn, my fender just narrowly missing Natalie, who was screaming at me to stop the car. “Not on your life,” I yelled out the window. I pressed my foot down hard on the accelerator, and my car shot forward, racing back down the dirt road. I had to hand it to them: on paper, it was the perfect murder. Who would suspect Natalie? I surely hadn’t. She had no viable motive for wanting Littleton dead, and Colin Murphy had given himself the perfect alibi.
I stole a quick glance at Toby. “Won’t Bennington’s face be red?” I asked the cat. I glanced in my rearview mirror. No other car was in sight, which I thought was odd. I’d fully expected Natalie to give chase. I reached into my pocket for my phone and switched it on. Thankfully, it was working now. I dialed Will’s number, but it went straight to voice mail. I didn’t hesitate. I left a message, hitting the highlights, and ended with my location and the fact I was headed back to Deer Park. “Please get here as fast as you can. I think Natalie and Colin are in the process of skipping with the evidence.” I slid my phone back into my pocket and smiled at Toby. “Don’t worry. Once we get on the highway, it’s full speed ahead to Deer Park. We won’t let them get away with this—uh oh.” I was only a few feet away from the turnoff to the main highway. Another vehicle was there: a large white van, just slowing down to make the turn onto the narrow dirt road. I gunned the engine and sped past, but I couldn’t resist a quick glance over my shoulder at the astonished face of the van’s driver . . . Colin Murphy.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I pressed down hard on the accelerator, and my convertible shot down the road. Toby let out a sharp yowl and dug his claws deep into the leather upholstery. “Hang on, boy,” I muttered. “This is life or death, for real.”
I glanced into my rearview mirror, and my heart sank right down to my toes as I saw the van negotiate a sharp U-turn and come barreling after me. It wasn’t five minutes later that the vehicle came abreast of mine and slammed its front bumper into the rear end of my car. The force of the impact thrust me forward onto the steering wheel, and for a brief moment, I lost control of my car as it fishtailed down the middle of the narrow road. After a minute, though, I was in control again. I saw the van gear up for another hit, and I reflexively pushed down hard on the accelerator. I snuck a quick peek at the speedometer as my car fairly flew down the road. Fifty, sixty, seventy miles per hour—way too fast on this narrow little road with all its twists and turns. I eased my foot off and edged it onto the brake at the same moment Colin sent the van rocketing forward and into my rear bumper a second time. This time I swerved dangerously close to the shoulder of the road, sending a shock of gravel pebbles up onto my windshield.
I straightened out again, then once again stomped down hard on the accelerator. I was flying down the road at a brisk eighty miles per hour, and the van was keeping a steady pace with me. I figured Colin’s next move would be to creep up next to me and run me right off the road. At the speed I was going, that would spell inevitable disaster, unless . . .
I spied an indentation in the road just ahead. A grassy rutted trail that looked as if it led into a thicket of woods and swamp. Breathing a prayer, I gave the wheel a sharp tug and aimed for it. There was a thud and a crunch as tires met gravel, and then I was bouncing down the rutted trail. I lifted my eyes from the road just long enough to glance in the rearview mirror.
The van was right behind me.
Toby let out a merow and then dived under the dashboard. I didn’t blame him. I wished I could dive under there myself.
Branches and vines slapped at my windshield as I bumped along the road. Soggy grass turned to mud and then to marshy swampland as I plowed along. The trail I’d initially followed was slowly disintegrating. Another glance in my rearview mirror told me that Colin apparently had no intention of giving up the chase.
Toby had crawled back up onto the seat and was leaning his head against the passenger window. Suddenly, his ears flicked forward. His paw swatted against the window. “Merow! Ow-owrr!”
“What’s wrong, boy?” I slowed down a bit, peered out the window, and then I saw what had attracted his attention. A short trail, off to one side. And in the distance, what looked like the chimney of a house!
“Good boy,” I praised the cat. “Now hang on.”
I gave the wheel a sharp turn and veered to the right, then gunned the engine and shot down the trail as the van whizzed past in the other direction. I made my way slowly down the tiny trail, which was more mud than anything else. Halfway down, the convertible’s tires got mired in a rut. After about ten minutes of rocking and spinning my wheels, I opened the door and hopped out—and sank ankle-deep into mud. Toby hopped onto the driver’s seat and looked out, his nose wrinkling at the sight of all that mud.
“Stay in the car, Toby,” I directed the cat. I shut the door and stood for a minute to get my bearings. The building was visible now, and I could see that it was a cabin similar to the one Charlotte Potts lived in. Mentally blessing Bud Granville for his advice on my choice of footwear, I started to plod down the muddy trail toward the building. I was almost there when I stiffened. Had I heard the faint buzz of a motor? The sound wasn’t repeated, and I shuffled forward. As I walked up the rickety steps, I heard an unmistakable click. I whirled and looked straight into the barrel of a .45 revolver, held in the hand of Colin Murphy!
“I told Natalie you were a meddling pest, especially after you asked about Kahn Lee,” he muttered. “She dismissed you, until you asked her the same thing. We knew we had to settle up and get out of here as fast as we could. When I returned to the studio today and Trey told me about the reporter and photographer, I knew we had to make our move now.”
“How—how on earth did you get here?” I sputtered.
He laughed. “I grew up in this area. I know all the backroads. When you turned off, I just kept going straight to the paved road that was up ahead. I figured you were headed here—it’s the only building for miles, unfortunately for you.” He waved the gun. “Now get inside.”
I pushed the door open and walked inside, being careful to duck my head against the low ceiling.
The cabin was old, and it was apparent that it was abandoned and in complete disrepair. Rotting, fallen beams were everywhere. All it would take was one match, I thought, and this place would go up like a firebomb. My blood turned to ice. Was that what he planned to do? Burn me alive?
“Keep moving,” said Colin.
“Wh-what are you going to do?” I asked.
“Well, we’d planned to milk this venture for another few weeks, but now, thanks to your meddling, we’re going to have to cut our little sideline short,” he said. “The sculptures we’ll pick up from Charlotte Potts will net us a tidy sum, although not as much as we could have gotten over a few more weeks’ time. By tonight we’ll be on a plane bound for Dubai. The US doesn’t have an extradition policy there as far as I know, and with the money we’ll be collecting, we can live like kings.”
I rubbed my sweaty palms against the sides of my pants. “So whose idea was it to kill Littleton? Yours or Natalie’s?”
He chuckled. “Actually, it was a joint decision. Natalie and Bridge were quite an item back in the day, when she worked in Boston and he traveled there on buying trips. They eventually ended the romantic aspect, but they remained friendly until he married Petra. Natalie moved here after she got laid off and expected Bridge to continue to treat her like royalty, but those days were gone. He was going to raise her rent just like everyone else’s.”
“So she resented that.”
He snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. Natalie thought she was doing me a favor, recommending me to Bridge. At first I thought it might work out, but it wasn’t long before I realized our partnership only worked as long as Bridge got his way. And seeing as he had the controlling interest, he always did. The guy was a complete control freak. He didn’t want to change one thing, and he wasn’t interested in chatting up any artist whose work he wasn’t fond of.”
“You were fed up, tired of playing second fiddle. You wanted to get out from under his thumb.”
Colin let out deep breath. “If only Bridge hadn’t visited Prady, looking for those Plumms—we might have gotten the extra few weeks we needed to amass a real fortune.”
“Don’t you feel bad in the least about involving that innocent girl in your scheme?” I cried.
“A good lawyer can get her off with a light sentence. She wasn’t all that innocent. She was eager to take our money.”
“I bet if she knew just how much the two of you were making on that artwork, she’d have injected the two of you with poison. Natalie is the one who did it, right?”
“Yes. One of her more brilliant ideas.” Colin waved the gun at me. “A pity you had to go and meddle. It’s too bad it’s come to this, but . . . I’m afraid your time is up.”
“You’ll never get away with this,” I said.
“I beg your pardon. I already have.” He pulled a coil of rope out of the pocket of his jacket. “I’m going to tie you to that post, and then I’m going to start a little bonfire. Don’t worry—I’m sure you’ll be dead from smoke inhalation long before the flames get to you.”
I twisted my head, looking frantically for some means of escape. It seemed as if there were none and then . . . I stepped backward, felt the floor give slightly. I looked down and saw that the floorboards in this section were practically rotted through. I glanced up and saw Colin coming closer. As he reached for the rope, he lowered the gun for a split second, and that was all the time I needed. I stomped down hard on the rotted section of floor, and the next instant I felt myself falling downward. Above me, I heard Colin’s frustrated scream: “You’ll never get away.”
I landed with a plunk on the hard ground, and it took me a few minutes to catch my breath. I struggled to my feet, and a searing pain shot through my left ankle. I must have twisted it when I hit the ground. No time to baby it, though. I sniffed at the air as the acrid odor of burning wood reached my nostrils. He’d set fire to the cabin anyway! My head whipped every which way, looking for some sort of exit out of my prison.
But I couldn’t see any. I rocked back on my heels as wet tears stung the corners of my eyes. Was this how it all ended?
“Meroow!”
I twisted my head around and rubbed at my eyes with both hands. Was I dreaming, or was that Toby squatting in the corner?
“Merooow,” he said again, more urgently this time, his paw waving in the air.
And then I saw it, right behind him. A small opening, barely three feet wide. Some sort of tunnel? With Toby leading the way, I dove into the dark crawl space and hoped for the best.
I crawled along on my hands and knees. Toby stayed in front of me, tail swishing, and every now and then, the tip would hit me in the face. I wondered briefly just how far the tunnel might extend—it seemed to go on forever. Finally, though, we came to another opening. I saw a glimmer of the twilight sky above, and a blast of cool air slapped me in the face. I crawled upward, and a few minutes later found myself back outside, at the edge of the clearing. A blast of heat hit me square in the face, and I turned in that direction. I could see the house burning, and a little farther beyond, my car still sat where I’d left it. No sign of Colin’s van, though. He must have taken off as soon as he’d struck the match.
I struggled to my feet, bit back a cry as I felt pain shoot through my injured ankle again, and then started to slowly limp toward my car. Halfway there, I heard a slight rustling in the bushes. I looked around for Toby, but the cat seemed to have vanished. “Toby?” I called in a hoarse whisper. “Where are you?”
A second later, the bushes parted, and Colin emerged, gun in hand. “I had a feeling we hadn’t seen the last of you. And I just can’t leave here with any loose ends hanging.”
Suddenly, we both stiffened. Off in the distance—could it be? The faint whine of a police siren.
“How the heck?” Colin growled, then pointed the gun at me. “It doesn’t matter. I know a back way through those woods. They’ll never catch me. Good-bye, Ms. McCall.”
He leveled the gun at my chest and then . . . he screamed in pain as Toby dropped out of a nearby tree, right onto his shoulder, and dug his sharp claws right into his neck.
“Owwww! Get this damn cat off me.”
He reached up and tried to pull Toby off, but the cat hung on fast. In the meantime, I hobbled forward and snatched up the gun Colin had dropped. I made sure the safety was on, then I raised it and pointed it right at him.
The cat looked up, saw the gun in my hand, jumped off of Colin’s shoulder, and trotted over to me. Colin lay on the ground, clutching at his neck and moaning.
A few minutes later, Will and Bennington burst into the clearing, guns drawn. Both of them stopped and stared when they saw me.
“Here’s your killer,” I said. “One of them, at least. The other one’s back at Charley Potts’s cabin with the forged sculptures.”
Bennington pulled handcuffs out of his pocket and snapped them on Murphy’s wrist. Will hurried over to me, gently took the gun from my trembling hands, and then enfolded me in his arms. “It’s a good thing I checked my messages,” he said gruffly. “You took some chance, Syd.”
“Maybe,” I said, looking up at him.
And then I fainted.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was two days later, and I was lying on the couch in the living room, my bandaged ankle propped up on an ottoman. I’d been taken to the ER at Deer Park General, where I’d been treated for shock and a sprained ankle. Kat and Leila had come to get me, and Kat, after giving me the bear hug to end all bear hugs, had yelled at me nonstop for an hour about how I shouldn’t have played detective. Leila, on the other hand, had busily taken notes, the result being the headline in this morning’s paper: “Local Woman Instrumental in Bringing Trowbridge Littleton’s Murderer to Justice.”
Kat came in, balancing a breakfast tray, which she set down in front of me. “Scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast with jam, and three slices of nice, crisp bacon. Your favorite breakfast.”
“Wow.” I picked up a slice
of bacon, broke it in half, and shoved a piece in my mouth. “Delicious. Maybe I should track killers down every day.”
“Don’t be smug.” Kat looked at me anxiously. “The doctor said you have to stay off your feet for at least a week.”
I hung my head, feeling contrite. “Yeah, I am sorry about that.”
“You should be,” Kat said. She was trying to sound stern but was failing miserably. “After all, I need my new publicity director all in one piece. While you were out chasing down Colin and Natalie, Petra called a meeting with the mayor. Apparently, she was pretty high on the shelter after her positive adoption experience. She went on and on about how well the facility was kept and the excellent care we give our animals. And of course, she couldn’t stop talking about Jonesy and how lucky she was that she found him.”
I pressed a hand to my head. “Well, gee. Who’d have ever thunk that?”
“Not me,” Kat said with a deep chuckle. “Anyway, to make a long story short, Petra proposed another long-term lease on the shelter building . . . at a 20 percent lower rental fee than the previous deal!”
“Oh my God!” I squealed, and then suspicion settled in. “Wait a sec. What happened to the tenant who was willing to pay double or triple the rent for that space?”
“That’s the best part. Thanks to you, Petra could afford to be generous with the shelter deal!”
I furrowed my brow. “Thanks to me? I don’t get it. Why me?”
Kat’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Because of your detective work, another property became available—a property much better suited to this new vendor.”
“What property is—oh, wait. You mean Natalie’s bookstore?”
“None other. Natalie certainly won’t be using it now. Petra rented it to Crowden’s at a 45 percent increase over what Natalie was paying.”
My eyes popped. “Crowden’s? The bookstore chain? Wow!” I sank back against the cushions. “Talk about a match made in heaven.”
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