by Sandra Balzo
‘I know,’ AnnaLise said. ‘And I'm sorry I didn't mention it, but I was a little shook up that night, as you'll recall. Though given he didn't hit us anyway – ’
‘Whether you two collided or not, it would have been helpful to know there was someone else on that road.’
‘Did Josh see anything?’
‘See? No. But he heard a shot and it's very possible . . . what?’
AnnaLise was waving her hand like a kid in school. ‘Daisy and I heard that shot, too. While we were cutting through the dead end road between Ridge Road and the bridge.’
‘Lise, that trail is closed for a reason. It's a hazard to vehicles on the road, your popping out of nowhere like that.’
‘Daisy's the one who insisted,’ AnnaLise said, having no problem with hanging her mother out to dry.
‘You tell Daisy I'll run her in if I find her up there, just like my dad, when he was on the force. Besides the danger you pose to other drivers, if you'd have taken a right at the lookout instead of the second clearing, you'd have landed smack on top of the folks we're currently trying to peel off the bottom of the gorge. Made my job considerably more difficult.’
‘Sorry,’ AnnaLise said, suppressing a smile. Chuck was so cute when he was grumpy. ‘The lookout?’
‘As in Lovers' Lookout. There's a real pretty view of the mountain and the bridge, though I doubt that was the main attraction. Kids used to park there to make out, until one night when a couple set their car a-rocking and rocked right over the side.’
‘You're kidding, right?’
Chuck shrugged. ‘Mountain lore, though I'm told that's why the road was closed.’
It didn't bear thinking about. ‘So, about the gunshot that Josh heard – it must have been the same one Daisy and I did.’
‘And yet, I'm only hearing about it now.’
‘You're absolutely right. Though in my own defense, nobody had any idea a gun was involved until this morning.’
‘Score another one for Earl's eagle eye. First he spotted the hole and then recovered the slug from inside the tire itself.’
‘What kind of shape is it in?’
‘You mean, is it likely matched to the weapon that fired it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Probably not, having hit the wheel rim. And, anyway, most reliable ballistics matches today are because of the extractor mark on the shelling casing when it's extracted. We're not going to find that until we have the position of the shooter and, even then, there's the terrain to deal with. Even if the casing didn't roll down a hill or off a cliff, someone who could make that shot is likely smart enough to pick up the brass.’
Talk about looking for a needle in a mountain-sized haystack.
‘But back to Joshua Eames.’ Chuck slid a paper across his desk so he could read it. ‘That young man has four outstanding citations for excessive speed. And, given how fast he likely had to travel to hie himself out of there before fire and rescue came upon you, he scored a fifth.’
‘I saw him leave the station, so apparently you didn't haul him off to the slammer.’
‘I didn't, though I gave him a stern talking to.’
‘I'll bet you did. Softie.’
Chuck shrugged. ‘Fact is, the kid doesn't have the money to pay the fines.’
‘Can't his father help?’
‘His daddy figures Josh earned those tickets himself and he should pay them the same way. I applaud the sentiment, so we're trying to work out some kind of payment plan.’
Probably why Josh and Suzanne were fighting as they drove away. He wasn't going to have money to take her out anytime soon. ‘Well, I have to say I'm relieved that Josh came to you on his own.’
‘You were worried he had something to do with the shooting?’
‘It crossed my mind – didn't it yours?’
‘Of course. Josh is dating the woman's daughter. Maybe Mom wasn't happy about it. Maybe there's an inheritance involved. Maybe a lot of different things. Love, greed, sex, revenge – the motives for murder are as old as these mountains. Fact is, though, that Josh didn't have to stop to help you and certainly wouldn't have, if he’d just shot out the tires of a car a few hundred yards up the road.’
‘You have a point.’ AnnaLise was thinking about it, when Chuck spoke again:
‘Is now a good time for you to tell me about Ben Rosewood and a certain reporter on cold winter nights in Wisconsin?’
Eighteen
‘How . . .’ she cleared her throat. ‘What do you mean?’
‘My meaning, I believe, was pretty clear: when were you going to tell me about the affair you had with Ben Rosewood?’
‘It's over.’
‘So he told me.’ Chuck's face . . . well, it didn't look like Chuck's anymore.
‘He told you?’ AnnaLise felt ambushed. First, according to the chief, Ben was ‘a pain in the ass,’ now he was an informant?
‘The man did, yesterday. And you confirm it, every time I mention his name.’
‘What did he say?’
‘I'd like to hear it from you.’
AnnaLise swallowed. ‘Grumpy’ wasn't looking so cute anymore. ‘Yes, we had an affair for about a year. It ended almost a month ago.’
‘Who ended it?’
‘I did.’
Chuck's eyes flickered. ‘Rosewood says the opposite.’
AnnaLise wasn't surprised. ‘Ben is a man who doesn't like to lose. At anything. I can show you the text messages, if you like.’
She started to paw through her purse for the cell.
‘You ended a year-long affair by text message?’
‘Of course not. What kind of person do you think I am?’
‘I know the kind of person you used to be.’
AnnaLise stopped searching for the cell and looked at her friend. At the man who'd been more than a friend. ‘Chuck, I— ’
‘The texts?’ He nodded toward the bag.
AnnaLise nodded and returned to digging through the bag, trying to hold back tears. I don't cry, she told herself. I never cry.
‘Chuck, you're scaring me,’ she said without looking up. ‘I'm me, AnnaLise Griggs. Remember?’
‘I remember. But a woman is dead and you admit having an affair with her husband. I need to ask these questions.’
‘I had an affair. Past tense.’ AnnaLise tried to sound calm, despite the knot of fear growing in her stomach. Not to mention the self-loathing. ‘And if you honestly think it's a factor, shouldn't you be looking into Ben as well?’
‘Except he's the one who came to me.’
‘Ben thinks I killed his wife?’ The knot was more like a boulder now. ‘That can't be right. I just talked to him yesterday, too and he seemed fine. In fact, he was blaming the accident on Joy for serving wine to Tanja.’
‘I assume he's a good actor, not surprising for a trial attorney. Or maybe he hadn't noticed the missed call from you on his cell phone yet.’
‘Missed call? When?’ AnnaLise was wracking her brain. When was the last time she’d called Ben? She couldn't even remember.
‘The night of Tanja Rosewood's accident – and yours. In fact, not an hour after you left the scene.’
Left the scene? A uniformed officer had taken AnnaLise and Daisy to Ida Mae's and – ‘Oh, wait. I know.’
‘Then I'd be grateful if you'd tell me and clear this all up.’ Still no clue as to how the chief of police – because this clearly was the ‘chief,’ not her friend Chuck – was reacting. His face gave nothing away.
‘Daisy and I were at Ida Mae's and Daisy mentioned that the car Earl Lawling had spotted was yellow. I immediately thought of the Porsche.’
‘And called Rosewood?’
‘To see if he and his family were all right,’ AnnaLise said uncomfortably. ‘Early that afternoon, we'd seen them at Mama's and Tanja asked how long it would take to get up to the spa.’
‘So you knew where she'd be.’
‘Yes.’ AnnaLise was staring at her friend in horror. ‘But D
aisy and I were together at her doctor's appointment. Chuck, you can't possibly think I stalked this woman and shot out her tire!’
‘Like I said, Lise, I don't know what to think.’ The use of the nickname was the only trace of warmth.
‘Listen to me, Chuck. I dialed Ben's number that night because I was worried. Then Daisy interrupted me toward dinner, so I hung up. And was glad that I had. I'd been badly shaken up by the accident and had some wine, so I wasn't thinking clearly.’
‘As it happens, you were. It was both the Porsche and Tanja Rosewood.’
‘But it was no longer my . . . duty to call. You've got to believe me. Ben and I were over – unequivocally and irretrievably – back in Wisconsin two weeks before I drove here to Sutherton because of Daisy's – ’
‘You can stop there. I know the rest.’
‘Here.’ AnnaLise was fumbling out her cell phone. ‘Let me punch up the messages. I kept them all – they'll prove I ended it with Ben and he wasn't taking no for an answer.’ She was frantically pushing buttons. ‘You should be looking at Ben for this, not — Oh, no.’
‘What?’ Chuck leaned forward.
AnnaLise looked up from her phone. ‘They're . . . All my saved text messages from him are gone.’
***
Ben must have deleted those messages yesterday, AnnaLise thought as she escaped Chuck's office, barely raising her hand in acknowledgment of Charity's ‘see ya later, AnnaLise.’
The DA had her purse in his hand, bag open, when she'd come down the stairs at the inn. If he'd looked under text messages and his name, the conniving asshole could have deleted the whole bunch with one push of a button.
But why? To erase all record of their relationship? Then why would he have gone to Chuck and admitted the affair?
The obvious answer scared AnnaLise more than the question. Ben was no longer trying to pin Tanja's death on Joy – he was trying to pin it on AnnaLise instead. But it didn't make any sense. No one yesterday knew that someone had fired at Tanja's Porsche, striking the tire and sending the car off the road.
No one, that is, except the killer.
Nineteen
You wouldn't confuse the Torch of today with the Griggs Market of even just a year ago.
Gone were the deli counter and shelves full of bread, cans and dried goods. The walls of the big square room had been painted slate gray and round tables filled the floor in front of a half-moon stage. On three walls, long, bar-height tables gave patrons a clear view of the entertainment.
It was at one of these counters that AnnaLise and Joy sat, not paying the slightest attention to either the decor or the performer, tonight a thankfully subdued pianist.
‘Wow,’ Joy said, tossing back a tequila shot. ‘It's just like Fatal Attraction. You love that movie.’
‘Not when I'm cast in the role of Alex Forrest.’
‘Who's he?’
‘She. You know, the character played by Glenn Close? Michael Douglas's one-night stand that rapidly becomes his worst nightmare?’
‘Honestly, who but you would remember that whack-job's name? All I know is she boiled a bunny. You didn't do that, right?’ Joy was signaling for the waitress.
AnnaLise, on the other hand, had been nursing her glass of Hefe-Weisen, a North Carolina wheat beer from Olde Hickory Brewery, located in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
She'd also been trying to figure out why she was talking to Joy, other than the fact that she already knew about AnnaLise's affair with Ben. ‘No, of course I didn't boil any bunnies. Or puppies or kittens, for that matter.’
The waitress who'd just arrived at their table turned on her heel.
‘Now see what you've done?’ Joy said, watching the woman disappear in the other direction.
‘It wouldn't hurt you to pace yourself anyway.’
‘This was my first. Besides, I'm surprised you're not hitting the stuff harder, given the circumstances.’
‘“The circumstances” are exactly why I need to keep my wits about me. I could go to jail for something I didn't do. Oh my God, this state has the death penalty. I could fry.’
‘Nah, execution is by lethal injection here. Sort of The Big Sleep, courtesy of the North Carolina Department of Correction.’
‘Cold comfort,’ AnnaLise muttered.
‘Cold is right. But I don't see what you're worried about. From what you told me, it's your boyfriend's word against yours.’
‘My ex-boyfriend,’ AnnaLise hissed, ‘is a district attorney, a prosecutor. If anyone knows how to frame someone, it's him, the slimeball.’
‘And they say love is blind.’ After the waitress shunned them, Joy raised her empty glass for the bartender to see and got a nod in return. ‘So, let me get this straight.’
‘Better hurry before that shot gets here,’ AnnaLise interjected. ‘Or you won't be able to get anything straight.’
‘As I was saying,’ Joy plunged on, unfazed: ‘You think your DA killed his wife and is trying to pin the murder on you, right?’
‘Right.’
‘But why?’ Joy nodded her thanks to the waitress who deposited the tequila crisply and departed immediately.
‘Sure, I'll have another beer,’ AnnaLise called to the waitress' back before returning to Joy. ‘The why of framing me? No clue, except that I dumped him. Maybe his ego can't take it.’
‘And so . . .’ Joy prompted.
AnnaLise was warming to her subject. ‘And so, think of it: District Attorney Benjamin Rosewood kills two birds with one stone. Gets rid of the wife and sticks it to the former lover as revenge.’
‘Hmm.’ Joy seemed to be taking AnnaLise's advice and nursing this second tequila. ‘I like it. She's rich, I suppose. The wife, I mean.’
AnnaLise nodded. ‘Loaded. Or at least her family is.’
‘Well, there's your motive.'
But AnnaLise was thinking back to her conversation with Chuck. "Apparently Ben asked permission to use the shooting range while he was in town.'
'Not very smart, if he intended to kill his wife.’
‘True, but . . .' The reporter leaned forward. 'He never intended for the bullet to be found. The whole thing would have been written off as a tire blowout if it hadn't been for Earl.'
"Or drunk driving," Joy agreed, taking a sip of her tequila. 'Sounds to me like Chuck is a fool – or worse, negligent – if he ignores the possibility that Rosewood is involved. And if it were me, I'd also be looking into your omnipresent – not to mention, seemingly omniscient – Earl the Mechanic.
AnnaLise was too upset over the conversation with the police chief to worry about Earl Lawling right now. 'Chuck is no fool, believe me. You should have seen how he set me up, Joy, complaining about what a pain Ben was. All the while my old friend – hell, old boyfriend – was waiting to pounce, to drop the bomb about Ben and me, so he could see how I'd react.’
‘He is a crafty one, our chief,’ Joy said. ‘He doesn't seem to be paying the least bit of attention when you talk with him, but then he can parrot back what was said chapter and verse. Only Chuck's known you for twenty-three of your most formative years. He can't honestly believe you killed this Tanja woman.’
‘That's what I would have thought,’ AnnaLise said. ‘But if you'd seen his face, Joy. He was . . . disgusted with me.’
‘Well, that's unfortunate. What's the use of having your gay former boyfriend become police chief if you can't count on him to overlook evidence?’
‘There is no evidence!’
‘So what are you worried about?’
AnnaLise couldn't get Chuck's expression out of her mind, but she had to pull herself together. ‘You're right. All they have is Ben's word against mine.’
‘And the text messages you sent to him, maybe?’
‘Maybe, but I'm certain I never said anything that could be construed as wanting to get back with him. It does bother me, though, that I can't produce any of Ben's messages to me. They would have proved that I ended it, at least.’
AnnaLise rolled her eyes. ‘It's obvious you don't know Ben. Begging is not his style. The messages were more like suggestions that I come to my senses.’
‘Got you. And, of course, he wouldn't have shown those to Chuck. What about your friends in Wisconsin?’
‘What about them?’
‘Would any of them be able to testify,’ she waved down the alarm in AnnaLise's eyes at the word, ‘if it came down to it, that you broke up with him?’
‘At the time? I'm afraid not. I did tell Bobby Bradenham, but that was just last week.’
Joy looked sorry for her. ‘Wait a second, you didn't confide in anyone while this was all going on? What kind of woman are you?’
‘Ben and I agreed that we wouldn't.’
‘That's how they get you, you know. They isolate you from your friends.’
‘Who, they?’
‘Predators. Abusers.’
‘I honestly don't think Ben is either of those.’
‘Oh, I'm sorry,’ Joy said, holding up her hands. ‘You're absolutely right. You just think he's a murderer.’
When you put it that way . . . ‘OK, so maybe he didn't kill Tanja,’ she said, backtracking. ‘Maybe it was just some yahoo with a gun.’
‘You said it couldn't have been a hunter.’
‘No, not in that area, according to Chuck. Think about that stretch – it's just road and cliffs, with no wooded area for wildlife to hide. But that doesn't mean someone couldn't have been hanging out taking potshots and accidentally hit the car.’
Even as she said it, AnnaLise could hear Ben: ‘My wife is dead and someone has to pay.’
‘. . . reckless, but have it your way,’ Joy was saying. ‘Only, speaking of “accidents,” what about your text messages? Could you just have hit the wrong button and erased them yourself?’
‘Uh-uh. I don't make mistakes like that.’ But AnnaLise was thinking back to her visit to the Inn the day before. ‘I went there looking for you, you know.’
‘Where?’
‘The inn yesterday, when Ben must have messed with my phone. I'd tried you at the spa first, so I could warn you that Ben was gunning for you as the cause of his wife's accident. That's before,’ she said ruefully, ‘I knew he was gunning for me, of course.’