by Kira Chase
“But he did attack Frankie.”
“And, as you well know, he’s being charged for that. Look, Johanna, we can keep going round and round and nothing’s going to change. Unless you have concrete proof he’s involved in Cassandra McHenry’s death, my hands are tied.” His eyebrows knitted together. “And I don’t want you to go looking for trouble. I mean it. Don’t interfere with my investigation.”
She frowned. “I never have and I never would hamper an investigation. We’re on the same side, George. Remember?”
He nodded. “Except that your rules are different from mine and that’s what bothers me.”
Chapter 16
Johanna called Trey and Will to let them know that Frankie was in the hospital then sat quietly in the comfortable chair next to Frankie’s bed.
“I hate being here,” Frankie complained. “I feel fine. I’m just a little sore.”
“You have to stay tonight and that’s final.” She picked up the TV remote, turned on the TV and flipped through channels. “Maybe CSI’s on.”
Frankie laughed weakly. “That’s really going to make me feel better about being stuck in here.”
“Come on…it’s your favorite show.”
“I know. I just want to nail Bower. It pisses me off that while I’m in here all night he’ll be out there prowling around.”
Johanna patted her hand. “He’ll trip up, babe. Just rest now. You’ll be out of here before you know it.” She settled back in the chair, focusing on the TV show.
A nurse came in with a bright cheery smile. “This will help you sleep.”
Johanna waited until Frankie had drifted into a sound sleep, then stood and stretched her cramped limbs. She kissed Frankie’s forehead, then tiptoed out of the room. As she exited the hospital and walked to her car, she wondered for a brief second if she should forget her plan, then decided she had to find out one way or the other why Graham had gone to the country house. Most importantly, she hoped that by some miracle Chelsea would be there. If she was, what would it prove? It wouldn’t mean anything as far as George was concerned. Johanna decided she’d play everything by ear. First things first. She’d figure out a way to get Chelsea to confess her part in Cassandra’s death. Maybe she’d hired Bower to do it and now he was filled with remorse.
She drove cautiously making sure to stay within the speed limit. The last thing she needed was to be pulled over for speeding. With her luck Arlan would be the one to stop her, and if she had to deal with him tonight she would end up in jail. She reached the driveway, then took a deep breath and drove up it. The night was pitch black without even a star in the sky. The desolate quietness unnerved her more now than when she’d been comforted with Frankie by her side. An eerie chill ran up her spine as the car tires crunched on the half-gravel dirt road. Tonight the driveway seemed endless. Finally she saw the dilapidated house in the distance. The silence was overwhelming and for a second she thought about turning around and racing back down the driveway. She pulled up in front of the house. It stood dark and forlorn. She had to see if the house offered any clues. Graham had come here for a reason.
Johanna quietly let herself out of the car. She laid one hand on her gun, which George had returned to her earlier, and felt a small sense of relief. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her pen flashlight then checked her other pocket making sure her cell phone was there. She crept toward the porch then silently moved to the left side of the house and shined her light. Seeing nothing, she walked to the other side. She flashed her light and was shocked when a California license plate jumped out of the darkness at her.
She crept closer, being careful not to lose her balance in the rutted yard. Her heart thumped wildly as she shined the light in the car windows. She looked in the driver’s side window. She froze. Chelsea Reynolds was slumped over the steering wheel, her face turned toward the window as though she were peering out of it. Her open eyes were lifeless. Johanna grabbed a pair of gloves from her back jeans pocket and pulled them on. She yanked open the car door. She felt for a pulse, then saw the thick red blood coating the steering wheel. She quickly shut the door. Trembling, she gulped the night air. Her stomach lurched and bile rose in her throat. Someone wanted to shut her up, but who? Could Frankie be right? Was it Graham? Or was she right in believing it was Bower? Then another thought struck her. The killer might still be nearby. Maybe he was watching her this very minute.
Uneasily she backed away from the car, reached in her jacket pocket, took out her cell phone, and quickly punched in the sheriff’s number. After she was instructed to wait in her car, she decided to make a pass around the rest of the house. It would be several minutes before George and Arlan would arrive. She stumbled past Chelsea’s beat-up car and reached the back of the house. She peered around the corner. Graham’s black Jag was backed up to the porch. The trunk was open. She made out a hazy figure putting something in the trunk, but she didn’t dare move closer.
She turned and ran then froze when a twig snapped under her boot. She ducked behind an unruly hedge. Heavy footsteps slowly passed by where she crouched. Her hands shook.
“Who’s there?”
She recognized the voice. Nicholas Bower had wasted no time posting bail and driving back up here. Her breathing became shallow and her blood turned to ice at the sound of his voice. She heard him move past her toward the front of the house. She took the opportunity to use her cell phone again.
Johanna dialed the sheriff’s office for a second time. “This is Johanna Obrien. I need help,” she whispered. “Contact Sheriff Ryker and tell him to hurry. I’m in danger. He’ll understand. He was supposed to be here by now.” She snapped her phone shut.
The footsteps came back and stopped inches from where she still crouched behind the hedge. “I know you’re here Ms. PI. I saw your car. You may as well come out because you can’t hide from me. You should have never come back here. Now everything’s going to be ruined. I can’t let Graham get away with hurting Cassandra. He doesn’t deserve to live.”
Where was George? He should have been here by now. Johanna prayed Bower would go back to the rear of the house. She’d make a break for it and hopefully get to her car and be out of there before he could get back to the front of the house.
“Come on out like a good girl. I promise not to hurt you. You can help me.”
Johanna gripped her gun. She waited with baited breath. If he found her she’d have only one chance to fire and this time she intended to make her mark. If she didn’t, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.
She heard cars and saw the headlights as they sped up the driveway. She breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God! George is here. She listened as Nicholas Bower turned on his heel and ran toward the back of the house. Seconds later she heard car doors slamming.
“George!” she called out. “He ran to the back of the house. It’s Nicholas Bower.”
“Stay put,” George ordered. “I’ll tell you when it’s safe.”
Johanna stayed crouched behind the hedge listening to the muffled voices and the scuffle. She couldn’t tell what was going on. Several gunshots echoed through the desolate countryside resounding back in her ears. Her hand trembled on her gun.
“Johanna, come on out. It’s safe,” George finally called.
Stiffly she pulled herself to her feet and walked to the front of the hedge with George’s bright flashlight guiding her way.
“What the hell were you thinking, Johanna? You could have been killed,” he barked.
“But I wasn’t.” What about Bower?”
“We got him. I think it’s Chelsea Howard’s body in the car. The coroner’s on his way.”
“Is Bower dead?”
“Yes. We also found Graham McHenry in the trunk of McHenry’s car.”
“Is he—”
“No. I think he’ll survive.” He patted Johanna’s shoulder. “Now we’ve got to sort this mess out.” He shifted his feet. “You shouldn’t have come here by yourself, but
I’m not going to give you a lecture after the night you’ve had.”
She was grateful that he’d calmed down. “Did Bower admit anything?”
“Go home and get some rest. I promise to get in touch with you later in the morning.”
“I’ll be at the hospital with Frankie.”
* * * *
Johanna stopped off at the house, showered, put on fresh clothes and rushed back to the hospital. She stole into Frankie’s room. She smiled when it dawned on her that Frankie had slept through the whole night. But she braced herself for the outburst Frankie was sure to have at having missed the excitement. It wasn’t until she sat in the chair next to Frankie’s bed that she realized how close she’d come to causing severe consequences to herself. Thank God she’d kept her cell phone in her pocket instead of its normal place in the cup holder in her car.
She closed her eyes, exhaustion overcoming her, and fell asleep immediately, not opening them again until she heard Frankie’s breakfast tray being brought in. She slowly opened her heavy eyes.
Frankie lifted the cover and wrinkled her nose. “Yuck.”
Johanna yawned, stretched her aching body, then laughed. “Not hungry, sweetie?”
Frankie smiled at her. “Starved, but I’d like some real food.”
“I’ll get you something in a little while. Are you in a lot of pain this morning?” she asked softly.
“Not too much, but I’ve got a wicked headache. I should have kept my mouth shut because now I have to have some tests run and the doc says he wants me to stay another day to be on the safe side.”
“When did you see the doctor?”
“He came in while you were fast asleep. I’ve been awake for over an hour, but I didn’t want to wake you. You didn’t have to stay all night. I feel bad that you slept in the chair.” She lifted an eyebrow. “You could have climbed in here with me.”
“I’m sure the nurses would have been shocked. Anyway I’m glad you’re feeling better this morning.”
“I just want to get discharged.”
“You can use the rest, babe.”
Frankie frowned. “No. I’d rather be out there tracking down Graham McHenry and Nicholas Bower.” She sighed. “We may never get another chance.”
Johanna looked at her. “It’s over,” she said casually, watching a shocked expression instantly appear on Frankie’s face.
“What do you mean it’s over? What happened?”
“Now don’t get upset, but I went back to the country house. I wanted to see if Chelsea was there. Frankie, I swear the house looked like something out of Psycho at night. It was so creepy.”
“Was Chelsea there?”
Johanna lowered her eyes. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “She was murdered.”
“So Graham got rid of her, too.” Her eyebrows knitted together. “What a bastard. I told you—”
“It wasn’t Graham,” Johanna interrupted.
“Who then? We saw Graham turn up the driveway.”
“Don’t forget our earlier confrontation with Bower. He went back after he made bail, as I assumed he would. I don’t have all the details, but Bower murdered Chelsea and tried to kill Graham. He probably would have gotten away with it if George hadn’t showed up.”
“Wait a minute, did you have another confrontation with Bower?”
“We’ll talk about that later, babe.”
“Johanna, you never should have gone by yourself. He could have killed you!” she said angrily. “If I’d known you were going to do that I never would have taken that damned sleeping pill.”
“Calm down. I’m fine.”
“We are going to have a discussion about this later, Johanna.”
Johanna nodded. The last thing she wanted to do was to cause Frankie further distress. “We’ll talk about it, but right now my top priority is getting you back on your feet. You’ve got quite a shiner.”
“I hate it here. Talk to the doctor for me. He won’t listen to me. Maybe you can convince him to discharge me today. I’ll rest better at home with you.”
“Frankie, I’m with the doctor on this one. As much as I want you home, I don’t want anything to happen to you down the line that could have been prevented. I’d never forgive myself.”
“Well, promise me you’ll never go off alone again. I’m not going to get any rest if all I’m going to do is lay here and worry about you.”
“I promise, baby. Try to eat some of your breakfast.”
Frankie picked up her fork, put a piece of scrambled egg on it and popped it into her mouth. She shuddered. “This is horrible.”
Johanna laughed. “At least drink your juice until I can get you something.”
Frankie set her fork down. “So we still don’t know who killed Cassandra,” she said, turning the conversation back to the case. “I still think it’s Graham.”
Johanna’s eyes narrowed. “My money’s still on Bower. After all, look what he did to Chelsea and Graham.” She paused. “He was killed last night.”
Frankie’s jaw dropped. “Did he confess before he died?”
Johanna shrugged. “I don’t have any of the details. George wouldn’t let me hang around. All he told me was that Bower had been shot. I saw Chelsea’s body in her old beat-up car and George said Graham’s body was in the trunk of Graham’s Jag. So it only makes sense that he murdered Cassandra, too.”
“No, it doesn’t make any sense. At least not to me. Why would he kill the woman he claimed was a good friend? What is the motive?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he was just crazy. But what would Graham have to gain by killing Chelsea and Cassandra?”
“Everything! He’d get it all!”
“Okay, I know that would seem to be the logical conclusion, but why did Bower kill Chelsea and try to harm Graham if he’s innocent?”
“Did George say Bower killed Chelsea?”
“No, but I’m assuming he did from the way Bower was acting last night.” Johanna shook her head. “If Bower confessed to Cassandra’s murder before he was shot, this will be all wrapped up. We’ll have to wait to see what George says.”
Frankie was thoughtful for a few seconds. “It still doesn’t explain where Cassandra was for the past two months while Chelsea was impersonating her. Bryn and Mary told you she was out of the country and Graham said she was at the country house. Then she ends up at the motel. I don’t trust a word that comes out of that man’s mouth.”
“I didn’t say I liked him,” Johanna replied. “I’m just calling it as I see it.”
“Ladies, mind if I come in?” George asked, tapping lightly on the door.
“Good morning, George,” Frankie greeted him with a smile. “I’ve just been told about the excitement I seem to have slept through last night.”
“It was quite a night.” He nodded in Johanna’s direction. “And if it wasn’t for you, we may have never solved this crime.”
“Bower confessed to killing Chelsea before you shot him?” Johanna asked.
“Not before we shot him. Graham McHenry had a microrecorder on him and got everything on tape.”
“Why’d he do it?” Frankie asked.
“His friendship for Cassandra is what set him off.” He pulled up a chair. “I obviously can’t give you all the details, but he became enraged when he’d heard that Chelsea, whom he assumed was Cassandra, was having an affair with Joseph Bunson. He followed him to the motel. He wanted to scare him into staying away from Cassandra. From what I’ve learned Bunson isn’t a popular guy.”
“I certainly wasn’t impressed with him,” Johanna admitted.
“Apparently he’d brought a bottle of whiskey with him and sat for an hour or so drinking alone in his car. The alcohol gave him courage and in his fragile state of mind, he’d decided to just blow Bunson away the minute he came to the door.”
“But Bunson didn’t show up that night,” Johanna said.
“That’s right. Bower left and walked across the road to a diner. He had dinner, coff
ee and sobered up a little, then walked back to the motel. It was dark by then. From where he stood in the parking lot, and in his still slightly intoxicated state, he misjudged the room. When he saw a young couple practically doing it before they entered the room, he lost control and ran to the door assuming Bunson would answer it. Blindly he fired, then like a coward, ran. He didn’t even know until the following morning that it was Cassandra he’d shot.”
Johanna stood up and walked across the room deep in thought, then stopped. “We need to fill you in on a few things, George. But not here.”
A nurse entered the room. “Someone will be in to take you down to x-ray in a few minutes.” She smiled brightly at Frankie and nodded at Johanna and Sheriff Ryker on her way back out of the room.
“Go ahead, Johanna. You can fill me in later,” Frankie said.
Johanna ran the back of her hand across Frankie’s cheek. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.” She kissed her cheek.
Chapter 17
George Ryker laid the photos down and settled back in his chair. “Why didn’t you and Frankie tell me this before?” he barked. “Dammit, Johanna, I warned you two not to hamper my investigation.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“We’d never do that, George, and you know it! Besides you told me last night that if I hadn’t gone to that house you’d never have gotten Bower.”
“You’re right,” he conceded. “So you think he meant to kill Chelsea and Cassandra got in the way?”
“No. I don’t think anyone knew that Chelsea was back.” She leaned her elbows on his desk and peered into his eyes. “George, this case is far from settled. Where was Cassandra for the past two months? Frankie and I know that Chelsea was impersonating her and was driving her Porsche and doing the activities Cassandra normally did. I think Bower is the killer but I’d like to run Frankie’s version of events by you.”
“I’m listening.”
“She believes that Graham McHenry and Chelsea Reynolds were planning to murder Cassandra and pretend that Cassandra was away on a trip. After a specified length of time, Chelsea would come back as Cassandra. Who would know the difference? As far as the eye color is concerned, she could say she got colored contacts. The only difference is the hard edge Chelsea had from what I’ve been told.”