Pasta Mortem

by Ellery Adams

  Before James could form another thought, Joy’s arm swung toward him in an arc, the gun coming down, closer, closer, then darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “Mr. Henry, are you all right?” Mrs. Anderson asked. “Mr. Henry!”

  James came awake and stared at her. “Am I bleeding?”

  “Not that I can see,” she said. “Here, try to sit in this chair. Goodness, is that white powder what I think it is? And what a mess Brandon made with this bottle. Watch where you step.”

  James slowly sat up. He put his hand to his head but felt no blood or lumps. “I’m not injured?”

  Mrs. Anderson examined his head. “No. Did you have a shock? You may have fainted. Let me get a cold cloth.” She went into the bathroom and James could hear the water running.

  Had he collapsed at the thought of Joy’s gun crashing into his head? If so, James didn’t know whether to be happy he wasn’t seriously injured or embarrassed. He cautiously moved to the chair.

  Mrs. Anderson returned and put the cloth on his neck.

  “Thanks, I feel better,” James said and found that he did. He had to call Lucy. “Mrs. Anderson, did you see Brandon leave?”

  “Yes, he and that awful woman, Joy, left in the rental car. They didn’t even stop to say anything to me.”

  “What kind of car was it? Do you have the license plate number?”

  “Oh, I don’t know much about cars. You’d have to ask my husband when he comes back. The car was black, I know that. We don’t write down license plate numbers like the big hotels do.”

  James stood. “Thanks anyway. I need to leave.”

  “Are you sure? This snow is worrying. Will you be able to make it back to Quincy’s Gap?”

  James saw no need to tell her he wasn’t going to Quincy’s Gap. “Yes, but please have your husband call me the second he returns and tell me what model rental car Joy’s driving. It’s very important.”

  “I will,” Mrs. Anderson promised.

  Joel came out of his room. “What’s going on?”

  James didn’t pause to answer him. He had to stop Brandon and Joy. He ran downstairs and swung open the front door. Snow hit him in the face. The flakes were flying fast. There was about three more inches on the ground than when he’d come in.

  Silently cursing Jim Topling and his “no snow on Valentine’s Day” forecast, James trudged out to the Bronco. The truck would make it through the snow, he told himself. He turned the engine over. While it warmed up, he called Lucy.

  The phone rang and rang until James got her voice mail. He’d have to leave a message. “Lucy! Brandon killed Edwards and Kitty. He admitted it to me. He and Joy are headed for the Charlottesville airport. You’ve got to stop them or get someone to the airport to pick them up. They’re in a dark-colored rental car. I’m waiting on a call from Mr. Anderson at the Red Bird for more information on the car. Call me so I know you got—” The voice mail cut off.

  James got on the road that would take him past Quincy’s Gap and up to the small town of Elkton. There he would get on the Spotswood Trail, Route 33 East. He didn’t know what else to do. His head still felt fuzzy.

  The phone rang. “Professor,” Scott said, “we got a call from the board telling us to close the library.”

  “Do it,” James said without hesitation. “You and Francis can lock up.”

  “We’ll put a note on the door and call the TV station so they can announce it in their list of closings. Then we’re going snowboarding!”

  “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without the two of you. Be safe,” James said and disconnected.

  The roads weren’t too bad but the snow came down almost like a blizzard. As he drove, he had the Bronco’s windshield wipers on high. Even though it wasn’t even one o’clock, the day had darkened.

  He thought about calling 911. What would he say? A famous actor admitted to me that he killed two people. He’s on his way to Charlottesville with the head of his fan club. Would the 911 operator believe him? Doubtful.

  His phone rang again. James fumbled to tap “Answer.” He hated driving and trying to use the cell phone. “Hello.”

  “Mr. Henry, this is Brian Anderson out at the Red Bird.”

  “Yes, what about that rental car?”

  “It’s a Nissan Altima. Got Virginia plates, but we never take down numbers here. I’ve got Joy Carmichael’s credit card number, though, if this is serious. You can understand that I can’t give out personal information unless there’s an emergency.”

  “There is, I promise you.”

  “All right.”

  James saw the turnoff for Route 33. “Can you do me a favor, Mr. Anderson? Call Deputy Lucy Hanover and give it to her. If she doesn’t answer, call the sheriff’s office and tell them Brandon Jensen is trying to leave the state. Give them the information on the car and the credit card.”

  “Okay, wh . . . her . . . ber?”

  The call was breaking up. James gave Lucy’s number and asked Mr. Anderson to repeat it. He had to do it three times with the bad reception, but when he disconnected, he was sure the innkeeper had the correct information.

  James sat forward in his seat, trying to see through the snow, making sure the Bronco stayed on the road. Ten minutes passed. Looking in his rearview mirror, he saw no one behind him. He slowed and tried to call Lucy again.

  “James!” she said. “I got your message.”

  “Lucy, thank God. Brandon told me everything. He and Kitty planned to kill Edwards so they could get Brandon out of debt. Brandon promised to marry Kitty and—”

  “Later, James! Mr. Anderson called me. We’ve got the rental car info from Joy’s credit card company and patrol cars are on the way. We figure they’re taking Route 33 to Charlottesville. It’s the fastest, but Sheriff Huckabee sent Donovan down the secondary roads just in case. Albemarle County is stationing law enforcement at the entrance to Highway 29 from Route 33. Brandon and Joy aren’t going to make it to the airport.”

  “They could be going down to Interstate 64,” James said.

  “I doubt it. That way is longer. I’m on Route 33 now.”

  “I’m on Route 33 myself. Lucy, Joy said something strange to me about the show. Lucy? Lucy!”

  The call had dropped out.

  James tried to decide if he should turn around and go back to Quincy’s Gap. It wouldn’t be cowardly. Law enforcement had the roads covered, according to Lucy. But he wanted to be there when they caught Brandon and Joy. Besides, he was on a two-lane curving road. If he decided to turn back, he still had to wait for an opportunity to turn around.

  Several miles later, he saw a place to turn. He struggled with himself, then figured it would be best to turn around. He had to ease into the turn, as he was at a higher elevation now and the road was slippery.

  James’s cell phone rang. He didn’t dare not answer it. “Yes.”

  “James,” Lucy said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Turn around and go back to Quincy’s Gap. We found them. Brandon and Joy are dead.”

  James jerked the Bronco to a stop. He slid a bit but got the vehicle under control. He sat idling on the side of the road. “What happened?”

  “It’s bad. I don’t want you to see it. State trooper on the scene says the car was likely going a hundred miles an hour, hit the guardrail, and went airborne. It slammed into the cement pole of an overpass. No survivors.”

  James swallowed hard. He thought about Joy’s words. “Lucy, Joy’s last words to me were very insistent. She said, ‘The wholesome legacy of Hearth and Home must be maintained.’ Do you think she deliberately made the car run off the road?”

  There was a long pause. “It’s possible she did, knowing how fanatical she was about the show. There are no skid marks,” Lucy added glumly. “But with the snow and the slick conditions . . . I don’t know. I have to go. Sheriff Huckabee is staring at me. I’m going to tell him that you’ll be in to make a statement as soon as you can with the weather being what it is.”

/>   “I’ll head back to Quincy’s Gap right now and come straight to the courthouse.”

  “See you there.” She disconnected.

  James covered his face with his hands. Joy. Obsessed with the show, its legacy, to the bitter end. Don’t forget, she’d said. She’d killed Brandon and herself rather than see the show tainted, ruined for all its fans by Brandon’s actions. James believed her sacrifice would be in vain.

  He put his hands on the wheel and looked around to make sure he could turn safely, then gave the Bronco some gas. He noticed the temperature gauge was alarmingly near the hot zone.

  The engine cut off.

  “What?” James said to no one. “Come on, Bronco, you are not seriously going to start this—or not start—okay, let’s not play around. We’re in a blizzard here, no thanks to that Jim Topling. I have to get to the courthouse and give that statement so Sheriff Huckabee will release Murphy.”

  He tried the ignition again.

  Nothing.

  The truck was dead.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  James took a deep breath and told himself to remain calm. It wouldn’t do him any good to freak out. He exited the truck and opened the hood. Snow flew in a white tunnel all around him. He could make out the trees that were on either side of the road, but the road itself was white. The only tire tracks were his.

  His gaze went to the battery and the connecting wires. Everything looked fine to him. But what do I know? James thought. Nothing, that’s what. He needed to call someone. Not for the first time, James regretted not paying what he considered the exorbitant annual fee for a roadside service. There was nothing he could do about it now, though. He had to call a tow truck from Harrisonburg.

  Ten minutes later, James had exhausted all of his possibilities. No tow trucks were available due to high demand because of the snow.

  There was only one other option: Ace, the mobile mechanic.

  Freezing cold, James fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his wallet looking for the man’s phone number.

  His cell phone rang.

  James answered the call without even looking at the caller ID, hoping it was someone calling him back to say they could tow him after all.

  “James,” Jane said.

  “Hi, honey,” James said with as much cheer as he could muster. Maybe he could avoid telling her he was, yet again, stuck on the side of the road.

  “James, I’m sorry to call you while you’re at the library, but I—oh!”

  “Jane! Jane, are you all right?” He heard his wife breathing rapidly. “Jane!”

  “I’m okay,” she said after an agonizingly long few seconds. “It was another contraction. I’ve been having them since right after you left for work.”

  James looked at his watch. “That was five hours ago!”

  “It’s not that uncommon to have false labor. The baby isn’t due for another two weeks. I did start to become concerned when the contractions came regularly. Then about fifteen minutes ago, my water broke and—oh!”

  James listened with growing horror as his wife groaned in pain. He had to get to her. He had to get to Quincy’s Gap right now! But he couldn’t because of the Bronco!

  “I called the doctor,” Jane said when she caught her breath. “He told me to go to the hospital. Can you come pick me up? Eliot’s home. They dismissed school early because of the snow. We can drop him off at Jackson and Milla’s on the way.”

  In that moment, James hated himself. Why had he begrudged his family a newer, more reliable vehicle? He should have given up on the truck three repairs ago. He saw now that having the money in savings didn’t matter when it came to reliable transportation and his family’s safety.

  Frantic with worry and desperate to get to his wife, he forced a calm tone. “Honey, the investigation took me out of Quincy’s Gap. The murderer has been caught, but it will take me a while to travel back. Call Jackson and Milla. Have Jackson take you to the hospital in his truck while Milla keeps Eliot.”

  “Wh-where are you, James? Are you far away? With this being my second baby, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be in labor. You’re not going to miss our daughter’s entrance into the world, are you?” she asked, her voice rising on the last few words.

  “No, no, I’m not! Hang up and call Pop. I’ll meet you at the hospital in Harrisonburg. I love you, Jane.”

  “James, it’s not the Bronco, is it?”

  James squeezed his eyes shut, mortified and ashamed. “I’ll be there, Jane. Just get to the hospital. Please call me when you’re there safely, or have Pop call me.”

  Silence.

  James didn’t know if the call had dropped or if Jane had disconnected.

  “No!” he yelled into the silent woods. His fingers fumbled the phone. It fell into the snow.

  James got down on his hands and knees and plucked the phone from the snowy depths, hot tears dropping into the icy whiteness.

  He got in the truck and prayed as he turned the key in the ignition.

  Nothing.

  Digging in his wallet, James thought about calling Lucy and asking her to come and get him. But he discarded this idea as being selfish. Lucy would come and rescue him, he had no doubt, but she’d get in trouble if Sheriff Huckabee found out one of his patrol cars had been used as a taxi. Still, if Ace couldn’t come . . .

  Like the last time he called the mobile mechanic, the phone rang and rang while James’s heart pounded in his chest. Finally, Ace answered. “Yeah.”

  “Ace, this is James Henry. Remember me? I’m the guy with the Bronco.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I need your help! I can’t get the Bronco to start and my wife’s having a baby!”

  “Don’t deliver babies.”

  James dug the fingers of his left hand into his palm. “I understand. Can you get my truck started?”

  “Don’t know. Have to see it.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Elkton, visiting my girl.”

  “I’m on Route 33, past Swift Run but before Skyline Drive. You’re not that far away.”

  “Got my dog, Bacon, with me. Too cold outside for her.”

  “You’re exactly right,” James said, willing himself not to scream. “Could your girl look after Bacon while you help me out? We could go to the ATM afterward.” James thought he would hand the mechanic his debit card and the PIN if he got the Bronco started.

  “Be right there.”

  James let out a huge sigh of relief. Then he realized he was shivering and hadn’t even realized how cold he was. He climbed back into the Bronco. He tried the ignition for the heck of it, but nothing happened. James reached into the backseat and grabbed an old wool stadium blanket that his father had passed down to him. He pulled the warm blanket around his shoulders.

  He called Jane but got her voice mail. “Honey, I love you, and I’m doing everything possible to get to the hospital. If I don’t make it in time for the birth”—James’s voice broke—“kiss our daughter for me and tell her I can’t wait to hold her.” He ended the call.

  James sat with his gaze glued to his rearview mirror, willing Ace’s truck to come over the horizon. Aloud he said, “Lord, please help me be there for the birth of my daughter. I promise that I’ll go to the nearest car dealer in the morning and buy the best vehicle I can with the money I have. Please let me be there for Jane and, yes, for myself. I’ll get a job waiting tables at Dolly’s Diner on the weekends if tha—”

  He heard the rumble of a truck. Yes, there it was! Ace’s red and white truck was coming up the road behind him!

  James jumped outside and waved his arms madly.

  The old truck parked close to the Bronco and Ace climbed out. Once again, he wore a T-shirt and jeans without a jacket.

  “Thank God you’re here!” James cried, so happy he could hug the guy.

  Ace’s jaw worked and James could hear the familiar rapid sucking sound. He waited for the crack of the sunflower seed. After it came, Ace said, “Hey.”
/>
  Ace checked under the hood while James stood nearby.

  In a surprisingly short time, Ace turned to him and said, “Blown head gasket.”

  James didn’t know that much about cars and trucks, but he did know that Ace wouldn’t be able to fix a blown head gasket on the side of a snowy, icy road. “You’re sure, huh?”

  “Yep. Oil looks like coffee with too much cream.”

  “No getting the truck on the road now,” James said.

  “Nope. Call the scrap metal man. He’ll tow it away and maybe give you a hundred bucks for it.”

  “Tell you what, Ace. I have to get to the hospital in Harrisonburg now. I mean right now. My wife’s having a baby. I’ve got to be there. I’m begging you to take me. I’ll sign the truck over to you, you have my word. You can do whatever you like with it.”

  “Snow’s getting deep.”

  “Plus we’ll stop at the ATM and I’ll give you a hundred dollars. The hospital’s only about thirty miles away. I’m asking you man to man to help me out. I’ve got to be there when my daughter’s born. My wife needs me.”

  To James’s shock, tears formed in Ace’s eyes. “Know what you mean. My dog, Bacon, she had puppies once. Needed me there. ’Course, I got her fixed since then so that nasty mutt down the road would leave her alone. Come on, let’s go.”

  James held his hands up. “Okay, give me a second. I want to write a note to leave on the truck’s dashboard so the police won’t impound it.”

  Ace nodded and walked to his Chevy.

  James turned around so fast he slipped in the snow, but he righted himself. He scribbled a brief note and placed it on the left-hand side of the dashboard. He took a look around the Bronco and was about to get out when he remembered Jane’s infinity necklace was locked in the glove compartment. He got it, said, “Goodbye, old friend. I’ll miss you,” to the truck and then climbed into Ace’s old Chevy.