Written into the Grave

by Vivian Conroy

  Vicky looked him in the eye. She reached out her arms, and Michael staggered into them.

  They held each other tightly, Vicky closing her eyes and breathing in his scent.

  It started to rain again, soft pitter-pattering on the leaves above, a peaceful sound in the silent forest.

  The storm was over, and they had made it through.

  Chapter Twenty

  Vicky lowered the towel Cash had given her to dry her hair. Looking for the way back to Gunhild’s car and Michael’s had taken quite some time, and new rain had soaked both of them to the skin.

  But now, here at the police station, with piping-hot coffee and a chance to tell their story to a fascinated audience, she didn’t feel too badly anymore.

  Trevor was out of his cell, so was Kaylee. Gunhild was in it now, having been picked up by Cash and his deputy. She had raved and ranted saying they’d made a terrible mistake and would all be sorry, but her attempted flight and actions against Vicky and Michael were enough to hold her on for the moment. Cash had said he’d prove the murder on her husband as well.

  “She admitted to us she knew of the gun,” Vicky said, putting the towel on a desk and reaching for her coffee mug. “She must have handled it with gloves to make sure her prints weren’t on it and the prints on the barrel stayed intact to incriminate Kaylee and Trevor.”

  The two looked at each other, not saying anything. There seemed to be a bit of tension left from their imprisonment. Or had they also suspected one another, deep down inside, and were they now feeling awkward about what they had thought?

  “It was a clever plan,” Michael said in a pensive tone. The blood on his face had dried, and he looked more like himself again. “Gunhild must have rehearsed it many times in her head. I’ve read once that that is the way athletes prepare for a match, by picturing what they’re going to do. I guess it was an old mechanism from her biathlon days coming back to her.”

  “Now you’re telling my bit of it,” Vicky said. “I should never have told you everything when we were trying to find the way out of those woods.”

  Michael grinned at her. “If it hadn’t been for me, you would still be in those woods.”

  His expression sobered as he added, “Most likely dead.”

  Cash sighed. “You really have to stop confronting killers, Vicky. It’s not good for my blood pressure.”

  “Your blood pressure? How do you think I feel?” Vicky sat up. “I never meant to deliver myself into her hands. I only discovered the designation on the card in the display case in the car. Then she had already decided to take me out there to kill me. I’m not sure why. She must have suspected me somehow.”

  She didn’t want to repeat in front of Cash that Gunhild had admitted having considered starting an affair with Michael to get him to kill her husband for her. Gunhild might have decided to kill Vicky not just because she felt threatened by her but also because she was jealous of her.

  “She did a fine job playing us all against each other,” Michael said. “She stole the money from the golf bag and accused Sam. She called the police and said that Doug’s father had allegedly endangered a cyclist when he drove away from the villa in anger. All she had to do was give the license plate, pretending to be a witness. She even made up that whole assault charge. She needed threats against Goodridge’s property and family to make his murder stick. The police would be swimming in suspects while the newspaper piece would create a sensation around town. It was all a smoke screen to give her time to get away with her art objects. She also sent the email from the computer café of course.”

  “She had a lot of nerve going there with her own stepdaughter present,” Cash said.

  “But she knew Kaylee didn’t look too closely at the people coming in by themselves to use a computer. She was there to help groups. And around that time she was probably having a bite in the back room.”

  Kaylee flushed. “She must have known my entire routine.”

  “Like she knew her husband’s. But how did she know anything about Trevor’s deadline for the Seaside Secrets serial?”

  Trevor flushed. “I told her all about it. I was so proud of it. I thought she really liked me and … She even said she’d help me get a publisher. She looked over my shoulder when I sent out a few emails to gauge interest for my work. That’s how she must have gotten the information to access my account.”

  “You were in love with her,” Kaylee said. “I’ve always thought so.”

  Trevor looked so unhappy that Vicky quickly changed the topic. “Gunhild knew everything by heart and built her plan around it. She knew it all had to fit together, especially on the morning of the murder itself. But she was good at organizing things. She had the ability to run to the cliffs ahead of Archie even if she left the house a little later. He wasn’t trained even though he did exercise every day. He was an amateur so to speak while she was a professional.”

  They all hung on to her every word, and Vicky continued, “Her piece in the paper expressed perfectly what she felt when he saw her and realized that she would do to him what he had threatened to do to her. It was a crowning moment for her. After he had slighted her by taking her money away, the money she felt she earned by being married to him.”

  Cash shook his head. “And then to think that her art gave her away.”

  Vicky smiled. “Fitting in a way. Diane said it right. It’s like a signature. Her literary work might not have given her away, but her signature art did. It led us to the old Gunhild who could both cross a distance fast and shoot at a target.”

  Michael said, “I just didn’t feel good once Vicky had left the offices. I had been so caught up in wanting to find some information to help Doug and … I somehow felt I had ignored her.” He didn’t look at her, and Vicky wondered what he had really wanted to say to her.

  Michael continued, “So I went after her. That red car is easy to follow. I was surprised though she left it at the entry gate of the villa, so I didn’t make my presence known. I wasn’t quite sure what she was up to and didn’t want to ruin anything, in case it was related to the murder case. Seeing that Gunhild was packing things made me vaguely suspicious. Then as they left together, the whole situation didn’t sit well with me so I drove after them.”

  “The headlights I saw on the coastal road as it began to pour were yours,” Vicky said.

  “Yes.”

  Michael took a deep breath. “I was out of my mind when I realized Gunhild was armed and wanted to shoot you. I could only hope you could outrun her while I circled round to get in front of her. I would rather have had her shoot me than you. It was all my fault, you know. You raised suspicions about her before, but I didn’t want to believe you.”

  Vicky stared into her coffee mug. Had Gunhild sensed correctly that Michael liked her and thought her beautiful? That there was a possibility for an affair even?

  Or had she merely said that to play them against each other? Had it been another trick employed by an ingenious woman with a dozen different faces?

  Cash said, “I’d better check on her a moment to make sure she’s not doing anything weird.” He left the room.

  Trevor said, “I want to get some fresh air now that I can. The rain must have cleared up.” He left the room.

  “Hey, wait for me!” Kaylee called after him. She said to Vicky and Michael, “Do you think he’s mad at me for dragging him into all of this? If he hadn’t wanted to defend me against Dad, he would never have become a suspect.”

  Vicky said, “Gunhild set him up to be a suspect. Not you. I think you can explain that to him.”

  “He liked Gunhild an awful lot.” Kaylee made a face.

  “Gunhild was a very good actress,” Michael said. “She made Trevor feel special and that was what he needed. But I guess now he just feels very stupid for having fallen for it. I think he could use a friend to tell him it wasn’t his fault.”

  Vicky added, “And that he should keep writing if he really
wants to be published.”

  Kaylee nodded. “He really wants that. A lot more than I do. I want to model. I guess with Dad gone, now I can. But I don’t really feel like it anymore.” Her mouth tensed as if she fought tears.

  Vicky said, “Just give it some time. And don’t forget you have friends here in town. Marjorie from the B&B came out here to talk to Cash and convince him you were innocent. I think she would really like you to stay with her for a while until things have settled down a bit.”

  Kaylee nodded. “I like it there, with the bustle of the guests and all. And I want to keep giving classes at the computer café. If I still can.”

  “I don’t think your boss ever believed you had anything to do with the murder.”

  Kaylee nodded. “That’s good.” And she went outside as well.

  Michael and Vicky were left together.

  Vicky said, “I shouldn’t have gone with Gunhild. It was stupid. I hadn’t seen the photos yet that made it all clear to me, but I did suspect her. Gut feeling.”

  Michael said, “I’m just glad I followed you. Gut feeling as well.”

  Vicky looked him over, then she stood up and walked to where he sat. She locked her arms around him and hugged him. “Thanks for saving my life.”

  She took a moment to hold him tight and breathe in his scent. If he still intended to leave town, for his west coast job, this might be the last chance she’d ever have.

  As Vicky let go again, stepping back awkwardly, Michael looked up at her. His eyes searched her expression. “I could have lost you all because I was so stupid.”

  “You had to stand up for Doug.”

  “No, I mean, with the whole Cash thing. Gunhild saying he called you Rowland.”

  “He never did. She made that up. She was constantly making up things to play people. She must have been a natural at human psychology to see everything at first glance.”

  Michael looked her over. “See what?”

  Vicky tried to step back further, but Michael held her shoulders. “No, not so quickly. Vicky. What was there to see then?”

  Vicky took a deep breath. Her renewed brush with death had made her realize there was more to life than just work and trying to stay safe and comfy. Maybe once in a while you had to take a little risk, for your own happiness? “That you’re a lot more to me than just a friend.”

  Michael studied her, his brows drawing together in a frown. “Are you saying that because I saved your life?”

  “You know better than that. Gunhild sensed it from just being near us.” Vicky swallowed. “Us together, I mean.”

  Michael smiled. “Together is kind of a nice word, don’t you think?”

  He patted the small of her back. “This is a hard time though. I have to sort things out for Doug and his sister; I’m not sure yet about that whole west coast assignment. And … this town. The memories, the past. You have your mother here, the store. Your new friends. You belong here, and I’m …”

  “If you’re going to say ‘passing through’ I’m going to kick you. It isn’t true. You belong here, just as well. And you know it.”

  Michael held her gaze. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe.”

  The door burst open, and Marge ran in. Her face lit when she saw Vicky.

  Vicky quickly broke away from Michael and tried to look innocent.

  Marge exclaimed, “I’m so glad you’re OK. The whole town is abuzz that you were caught in a thunderstorm and you got hurt or that you were caught by the killer and you got hurt, or both or … What on earth happened? Oh, Michael, there’s blood on your face. Were you there too?”

  Diane stood at the door. She said, “I didn’t realize when I told you about those photos I had from the Oslo trip that they could mean anything. I’m so sorry if I put you in danger.”

  “Nah,” Vicky said. “It was all my own doing. I should have known Gunhild couldn’t be trusted. I should never have gotten into that car. But I thought I could talk to the mother-in-law and learn something about the financial issues. Also for Doug’s sake.”

  Marge and Diane sat down to hear her story, Cash came back and poured new coffee, and time flew until a clock struck ten. Marge got up saying Kev had no idea where she was and that she’d drop off Vicky at her cottage.

  Michael rose and said quietly, “I’ll do that.”

  Marge looked at him, then at Vicky, and said, “Oh, all right. See you in the morning then.” She left with Diane.

  Cash said he had some paper work to finish and he’d talk to Vicky later. He said to Michael, “I’ll get in touch with the station handling the claims against Doug’s father. I think we can convince them that the case warrants a closer look, now that the main witness has been arrested on suspicion of murder. I don’t know how fast we can work things out, but I think we can get Doug’s father released on bail very soon.”

  Michael nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”

  Cash said, “Yeah, well, I was wrong about Doug and … I mean, he had no right to get into my computer but he did it for his father and his sister and I do understand that.”

  Vicky said, “We’ll have to work things out so they can live in Glen Cove for the time being. I’d really like Kyra to help out at the Country Gift Shop from time to time. And with the dogs of course. She fell in love with Coco straight away.”

  Cash grinned. “Who doesn’t love those dogs?”

  Vicky waved at him and left with Michael. In the corridor she said, “That wasn’t too bad, right? Cash even wants to help out to get Doug’s father cleared.”

  Michael’s hand brushed hers. “Thanks for helping me with all that. For keeping me from running away when it got hard.”

  Vicky smiled at him. “Don’t mention it.”

  Outside the station it was quiet and clear. The clouds had thinned, and a half moon stood brightly against the dark skies. The tang of the ocean mixed with the freshness after a downpour.

  Michael stopped a moment to look around him as if he was seeing it all for the very first time. He stared up at the few stars that were visible between the puffs of cloud and breathed the air in deep drafts. He rolled back his shoulders and stood up straight.

  Then he looked at Vicky. A smile relaxed his features. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe this really is my home.”

  Loved Written into the Grave?

  Then turn the page for an exclusive extract from

  A PROPOSAL TO DIE FOR

  And step back into the 1920s—the perfect time for murder …

  Chapter One

  ‘Marry me.’

  The whispered words reached Lady Alkmene Callender’s ears just as she was reaching for the gold lighter on the mantelpiece to relight the cigarette in her ivory holder.

  Freddie used to be a dear and bring her Turkish ones, but since he had been disinherited by his father for his gambling debts, his opportunities to travel had been significantly reduced, as had Alkmene’s stash of cigarettes. These ones, obtained from a tobacconist on Callenburg Square, had the taste of propriety about them that made them decidedly less appetizing than the exotic ones she had to hide from her housekeeper – who always complained the lace curtains got yellowish from the smoke.

  ‘Marry me,’ the insistent voice repeated, and Alkmene’s gaze wandered from the mirror over the mantelpiece to the table with drinks beside it.

  Behind that table was a screen of Chinese silk, decorated with tiny figures tiptoeing over bridges between temples and blossoming cherry trees.

  The voice seemed to emerge from behind the screen.

  Another voice replied, in an almost callous tone, ‘You know I cannot. The old man would die of apoplexy.’

  ‘Not that he doesn’t deserve it. If he died, you’d inherit his entire fortune and we could elope.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Gretna Green, I suppose. Where else does one elope to?’

  Alkmene decided on the spot that the male speaker had a lack of fantas
y, which would make him unsuitable for her adventurous mind. If you did elope, you’d better do it the right way, boarding the Orient Express.

  ‘I mean,’ the female said, in an impatient tone, ‘where would we live, how would we live? Off my fortune I suppose? I don’t think the major would give me a dime.’

  ‘What has the major got to do with it? Once the old man is dead and we are married, the money is yours.’

  There was a particular interest in money in this young man’s approach that was disconcerting, Alkmene decided, but if the female on the other side of the Chinese silk didn’t notice or care, it was none of her business.

  ‘Alkmene, dushka…’

  Alkmene turned on her heel to find the countess of Veveine smiling up at her from under too much make-up. The tiny Russian princess, who had married down to be with the love of her life, wore a striking dark green gown with a waterfall of diamonds around her neck. Matching earrings almost hung to her shoulders, and a tiara graced her silver hair. ‘I had expected to see you at the theatre last week. Everybody who is somebody was there.’

  ‘I was…’ reading up on the fastest-working exotic poisons ‘…detained unfortunately. But I trust you had a pleasant night?’

  ‘The new baritone from Greece was a revelation.’ The tiny woman winked. ‘You should meet him some time. Just the right height for you. Never marry a man who is shorter. You will always have to look down on him, and it is never wise to marry a man on whom one must look down.’

  Alkmene returned her smile. ‘I will remember that.’

  She heard a light scratch of wood and turned her head to see a young woman adjusting the Chinese screen. She wore a bright blue dress and matching diadem, her platinum blonde hair shining under the light of the chandelier.

  She looked up and caught Alkmene’s eye. ‘The thing always tips over to the side. Would crash the table and destroy all of those marvellous crystal glasses.’