Giving Up the Ghost

by Marilyn Levinson

  "Come see what he gave me! A two-carat sapphire with diamond baguettes on each side!"

  Everyone but Gabbie stopped what they were doing to mob the woman and admire the sparkling ring.

  Tessa got there first. She held the woman's hand this way and that to catch the stones' facets in the light. "Kim, it's absolutely exquisite."

  Kim threw her arms around Tessa. "It's all thanks to you. I followed your instructions and they worked like a charm!"

  "Of course." Tessa winked. "Listen to Mama Tessa if you want a 'make up' ring."

  Intrigued, Gabbie said, "What's a 'make up' ring?"

  Marie cut her a sidelong glance. "When a husband misbehaves and wants to get back in his wife's good graces, he buys her a 'make-up' ring."

  "I see. But what does Tessa have to do with it?"

  Marie laughed. "She wrangled one out of Don years ago. Now she tells her good costumers exactly what to do if they want one, too. Funny thing is, it works every time."

  "Hmm. I'll have to keep that in mind."

  Marie winked. "First you have to get married."

  "Oh."

  "Sometimes it takes years before it works. Jane Walters got a ring recently. Adele McMahon did, too. An antique beauty with pavé diamonds."

  Interesting that both Reese and Jack had sprung for expensive rings. She'd have to tell Darren so he could call on local jewelers and, hopefully, find out if either of them had paid in cash. "I wonder what bad deed their husbands committed," she mused aloud.

  "I've no idea. It could be anything from screwing around to going fishing for a week instead of taking his wife on a vacation."

  Gabbie handed her a tip before walking to the desk to pay for her manicure.

  "Come back soon," the receptionist called as she left.

  "I will." Gabbie realized that coming to the salon had done her some good. She'd calmed down and her nails looked nice. Best of all, she'd learned that Don, Reese, and Jack had all bought expensive items since Cam's death.

  Life marches on despite murder and other tragedies, she mused as she yanked a cart free at the supermarket. People work, prepare meals, get together. She found the thought reassuring, as though there really was order in the universe.

  * * * *

  Darren called to say he and Roland would be coming together. They arrived at the cottage close to eight o'clock. Gabbie decided it best to leave the brothers' reunion until after dinner. Darren and Roland seemed to enjoy her meatballs and pasta, since they both took seconds. It was almost as though they'd agreed to hold off discussing Cam's murder while they ate, because the subject never arose.They talked about Chrissom Harbor, Gabbie's teaching, and Roland's work.

  After coffee and cake, Gabbie sent Darren a knowing look. "You guys relax in the den while I stack the dishwasher."

  She grinned when, a minute later, she heard Roland's exclamations. By the time she joined the men in the den, they were deep in conversation. Roland seemed to have adjusted pretty quickly to seeing his brother in ghostly form. Perhaps it was the nature of his work. Digging up artifacts to study the history of mankind must have given him a broader perspective on life.

  They were rehashing the ME's findings and Sonia's confession. "I can't understand why she'd do such a thing," Cam was saying, his voice filled with self-pity.

  Gabbie rolled her eyes at Darren and Roland. To Cam she said, "We've explained it, and you still don't get it. You don't want to get it."

  "One last time," Cam pleaded. "Please."

  Gabbie sighed. After listening to Darren's report of Sonia's lengthy confession, her anger toward the woman was tempered by a feeling of profound sadness.

  "Sonia actually believed you meant it when you jokingly told her she was the one for you, that the two of you would eventually marry. She was willing to wait. She was content to see you when you ran into each other in town."

  "That's the part I have trouble with," Cam said.

  "I know." Gabbie drew in breath and continued. "Because of her brutal father and the rape, Sonia hates and fears men. She's probably unaware that she does, because she's had a crush on you ever since you and Darren beat up the boys who attacked her. It suited her that you made no demands."

  "In other words, I was safe."

  "Exactly," Gabbie said. "God only knows what romantic fantasies she wove in her head, fantasies unsullied by reality and sex, and kept alive by your promises."

  Darren leaned forward. "Sonia got angry when she caught you kissing Jill one afternoon. She took to spying on the two of you and saw it happen repeatedly, but since you continued to tell her she was your girl, she convinced herself your relationship with Jill was a cheap affair. You were sowing your wild oats, as she put it.

  "What really set her off was hearing you planned to leave town. She was willing to put up with anything but your abandoning her. So she got out the old revolver and drove to the cottage to find out for herself. She came here that afternoon, and guess what she saw?"

  "Jill's car leaving the cottage," Gabbie said, "and suitcases in the hall."

  Roland grimaced. "She assumed the two of you planned to go away together. It's a good thing she never went after Jill."

  Gabbie said thoughtfully, "Jill knew Sonia was angry at her, but she never knew why."

  "She went after me instead," Cam mused. "She couldn't bring herself to shoot me, so as soon as Jill left, she brained me with the butt of the gun."

  "She thought she could trust you," Darren explained. "But you deceived her, just like those boys."

  Cam thrust out his long arms in supplication. "Hey, let's not go overboard feeling sorry for her. Besides, how can you be certain she didn't kill me?"

  Darren looked at Cam. "Because the ME said a powerful second blow with an object wider than the butt of a gun caused the fatality. Probably the Roman statuette, since they found traces of blood and a hair, oddly enough, on the back of it. They're checking now to see if they're yours."

  Cam pursed his lips. "I used to love that little statuette. Any fingerprints? They would prove that Sonia killed me."

  Darren shot him a look of disbelief. "Are you kidding? After eight months' time and all the traffic in this room? Besides, it doesn't make sense that Sonia would strike you with two different objects. And she says she didn't take your money."

  Cam stared at him incredulously. "And you believe her?"

  "Why shouldn't he?" Roland said. "Sonia confessed to a murder she thought she'd committed. She was offended when Darren asked if she'd taken your money."

  "Yep. Told me she was no thief," Darren said. "But she'd noticed the drawer full of cash. Which means your second visitor most likely killed you for the money."

  Cam buried his face in his hands. "So we're back to square one. No clues. No evidence. This murderer, whoever he is, must be damn clever."

  "Or damn lucky," Roland said. "No doubt the person stopped by, saw you lying on the ground--dead for all he--"

  "Or she," interjected Darren.

  "Or she knew. Saw the money and started shoveling it into some kind of sack."

  "Probably a pillow case," Gabbie offered.

  "Right," Roland continued. "You probably moved or moaned, indicating you were very much alive. At which point, he or she reached for the statuette and hit you again. And this time, finished you off."

  Cam shuddered. "Sounds awful."

  "It is awful," Darren agreed, "but I think that's what happened." He hesitated, and then said haltingly, "There is one other thing."

  "What is it" Roland asked.

  "This is official police business, but it's pertinent and I trust you won't say a word to anyone about what I'm about to tell you."

  "And whom would I tell?" Cam demanded.

  "Sorry. Reese called me late this afternoon to say he had to get something off his chest. I told him to come over to the station and he did."

  "And?" Roland prompted.

  "He said he'd stopped by the cottage just after five that afternoon. To say good-bye to
Cam."

  Cam laughed. "He came to collect his money. The old coot is still lying."

  "No point in my pressing that issue," Darren said calmly. "He said he entered the cottage, saw the suitcases but no sign of Cam, so he left."

  Gabbie felt a surge of excitement. "Did he happen to notice the drawer full of money?"

  "Afraid not. He noticed the bottom drawer stood wide open and empty. Reese figured Cam had gone to take care of some last minute business. He said he couldn't wait, so he went on his way."

  "Oh." Her enthusiasm dissipated as quickly as it had risen. "That's not much help then."

  "It narrows down the window of time in which the murder was committed," Darren said. "Now we know it occurred some time between Sonia's attack and Reese's visit."

  "Could be Reese is the guilty party," Cam said.

  "Could be," Darren agreed, "and I have to factor that possibility in as well. I'll question everyone again and again, until someone gives up another piece of information." He sent Gabbie a half smile. "Persistence and detail work solve crimes."

  "Do you think the two murders are connected?" The idea that they might be had been preying on Gabbie's mind all evening.

  Darren scratched his chin as he considered her question. "It's too early to say, but if they are, we've lost an eye witness to Cam's murder."

  "Unless Todd saw the murderer kill Barrett," she said, "and is hiding out, afraid to surface until you've caught him."

  He frowned. "Exactly what I've been thinking. Which is why I'm leaving now to join the search party."

  "I'll come too," Roland said.

  She walked them to the door. Darren gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Talk to you tomorrow. Keep the doors and windows locked, and don't let anyone in."

  "Hah! As if I would."

  Darren and Roland left, and Gabbie double-locked herself in. She checked the sliding doors in the den to make sure they were locked as well. Even Cam had disappeared to wherever he went when he wasn't at the cottage, which suited her just fine. She yawned as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She was tired and longed for the luxury of a good night's sleep.

  But once she got into bed and turned off her lamp, it was as if she'd switched on her think button. So far, clues and witnesses to both murders were nonexistent. The police were almost certain the statuette and Sonia's gun were the murder weapons, but they lacked evidence pointing to the identity of the murderer or murderers. Gabbie had no doubt that Darren would coax more information from the various suspects when he questioned them again. Unfortunately, that would take time. Meanwhile, someone else might die. She shivered.

  She considered Darren's list of suspects: Fred, Reese, Jack, Terry, and Don. Any one of them might have killed Cam. They all had reason to hate him, some more than others. Still, none of the five men, including Fred, struck her as a murderer.

  Gabbie laughed aloud, chiding herself for being silly and naive. It was impossible for her--or anyone else--to plumb the hearts and minds of her fellow human beings. She hadn't the vaguest notion of what any of the suspects was capable of doing. Hadn't she read stories in the newspaper about religious leaders who were pedophiles and mothers who'd murdered their own children? She frowned. Not to mention her own husband, who had proven to be a thief and a cheat.

  Her best bet was to rely on logic and observation. She had to consider what she knew about each of the men. Where were they at the time of the murders? Who appeared to be tense or ill-at-ease when the subject of either murder came up in conversation?

  She suddenly remembered Terry had jumped like a rabbit when she teasingly threatened to tell the others what had happened when he'd discovered Barrett's body. He'd been relieved when she promised not to tell. She meant not tell that he almost threw up.

  But what if he was relieved for another reason? Excitement coursed through her veins. He could have been glad she wasn't going to say something pertaining to Barrett's death. Not that she knew anything.

  Only she did, she suddenly realized. She'd heard the shots.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to recapture the moment when the first shot had awakened her. She'd given a start and snuggled under the covers. When the second shot had followed, she'd opened her eyes and glanced at her clock. It had been 6:21.

  "Nineteen minutes before Terry found the body. I bet he killed Barrett!"

  She forced herself to calm down and review the facts in an orderly manner. Terry had claimed to have found Barrett at twenty minutes to seven. He must have killed Barrett, pulled the body into the woods, continued running down the beach, and then turned around and pretended to notice the body at twenty to seven as he reported.

  It all fit together. No doubt Barrett remembered having seen Terry or his car at the cottage the day Cam had died. Once Cam's death was officially declared a murder, Barrett realized Terry was the killer.

  Her excitement grew as all the pieces fell into place. Terry had hated Cam. He'd as good as told her so himself. And he'd beaten his wife, which indicated a streak of violence. Terry was strong enough to lift Cam and throw him over the bluff, and smart enough to cover his tracks. And--the final piece--he had no alibi for the afternoon of the murder.

  "I must call Darren." She reached for the phone, but realized she'd left the slip of paper with his cell phone number down in the kitchen. She pulled on her bathrobe, stepped into her slippers, and started down the stairs.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The sound of knocking sent Gabbie's heart hammering against her ribs. She froze where she stood, midway down the staircase, and listened.

  Nothing. Surely what she'd heard was a branch hitting against the cottage.

  The noise started again, a quick rapping at the front door. She forced herself to place one foot in front of the other until she reached the hall.

  "Who's there?" Fear cracked her voice.

  "It's Todd, Ms. Meyerson. Open the door, please."

  His palpable terror seeped through the wood. She hesitated, her hand on the knob.

  Danger lurked outside. She'd be a fool to open the door. Todd was malicious. He'd done awful things to Charlie and other kids. She had to consider the possibility that he and not Terry had killed Barrett.

  "Please, Ms. Meyerson, I'm freezing and he's coming. Please open the door. I don't want to die like Barrett." He sobbed, gulping in air.

  She shot the bolt and opened the door. The cold nipped at her bare ankles as Todd stepped into the cottage. He stared at her, mouth gaping, his eyes red from crying.

  She recoiled when she saw the gun in the deep fold of his trench coat. He held the hem away from his body as if it were contaminated. "I found it. That's why he's after me."

  "Who's after you?"

  Gabbie started to shut the door, but a violent force shoved it open. She stumbled backwards.

  Jack McMahon entered. His massive shoulders and oversized face loomed over her.

  Todd shrank behind her.

  Her voice shook with terror and disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

  "Don't play innocent, Gabbie. This is no time for games."

  "You killed Barrett? But why?"

  "Had to." Jack glared at Todd, an ugly frown giving his dull features a Neanderthal look. "And this little creep was spying. Well, we know what happens to spies." He lunged.

  Todd spun and ran toward the living room.

  Jack moved lightning-fast. He grabbed Todd's arm. The gun clattered to the floor.

  "Thanks. I'll take that." He picked it up and smashed the butt against the side of Todd's head.

  With a moan, Todd sank to the floor.

  Gabbie resisted the urge to kneel beside him. She had to stay on her feet if she hoped to get them out of this alive. Still reeling from the shock that Jack was the murderer, she whispered, "You killed Cam and Barrett and threw my paperweight at me."

  Slowly Jack moved his arm until he was pointing the gun at Gabbie. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Gabbie. I don't want to hurt you now. You sho
uldn't have stuck your nose in what wasn't your business."

  A shiver rippled through her as she inched toward the den. She fought to keep her tone conversational. "But why did you kill Cam? That afternoon he was going to give you your share of the money."

  He blinked, looking puzzled. "How do you know?"

  "Darren told me," she lied. "He found out about the cigarette deal."

  Jack pursed his lips. "We were getting peanuts compared to what Cam made on the deal. Mr. Big Sport was giving me five thousand more because we used my truck."

  He went on, aggrieved. "It's not like I meant to kill him. When I found him lying on the floor, I figured one of the other guys did him in, then panicked and left without taking the money.

  "Then he moaned. I nearly jumped out of my skin 'cause I thought he was dead. So I hit him with that little statue. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. So did picking him up and tossing him down to the beach."

  The natural thing to do? Sickened, Gabbie backed up another foot. She forced herself to sound impressed. "And no one knew. They said it was death by misadventure."

  Jack shot her a malicious smile. "Surprised, aren't you?"

  She controlled her tremors as best she could. "What do you mean?"

  "You know. Dumb Jack. Can't keep a business afloat. All he's good for is odd jobs and making deliveries. Well, I showed them. I didn't leave any traces that day, even though I had my worries about the statue." He laughed. "But no telltale fingerprints. I suppose I have the cleaners to thank for that."

  Another step and she'd be in the den. "Except that Barrett saw you."

  "He did not. When word got out that Cam didn't die from any fall, he remembered he'd seen my truck here that afternoon. Smart ass kid. He thought he could blackmail me."

  Jack glanced down at the gun in his hand. "I killed him with his own gun."

  "Sonia's gun," Gabbie said. "That's what she used to knock Cam unconscious."

  "Sonia?" He shook his head, as if amazed. "Well, I'll be damned."