Stiff Competition

by Annelise Ryan

  “And I suppose I walked back to my house from there?” she says with a snort of derision.

  I shake my head. “No need. Reece here picked you up with his ATV, took you back to a place where his car was parked, and then drove you back to your place, where you sneaked in through the back door so your neighbors would be none the wiser.”

  Reece, who had relaxed some when he realized the focus was on Kirsten, starts fidgeting again now that his name has been reintroduced. His tremor has become quite pronounced.

  “You couldn’t very well drive yourself out there,” I continue, “because you needed your car to be your alibi. Plus I’m guessing that fancy Mercedes you have in the garage probably has GPS in it and that might allow the police to prove you’d been out there. And if you went with Lars, you had to have a way to get back so it would look like an accident. You needed an accomplice. And you realized that you and Reece had some needs in common. It didn’t take much to figure out how Lars’s death could benefit you both. Not only the money, which Reece could use for his surgery and you could use to augment your income, but all the business Lars was stealing from Reece. The idea of trying to frame Jeff for it was just an added bonus, wasn’t it? You were worried because Brad was shifting so much of his attention and money away from you. First Jeff pops into his life, and then he finds a new girlfriend. He may have continued supporting your girls but you were getting cut off, weren’t you?”

  “That’s just ridiculous,” Kirsten sneers.

  “We checked your bank records,” Richmond says. “Up until a year ago, Brad was infusing your budget with a lot of cash. Then it stopped.”

  “You can’t prove any of this,” Kirsten says.

  “Oh, but we can,” Richmond counters. “Because while you didn’t let the GPS in your car show you were out there, you had to have a way to contact Reece once the deed was done. So you called him. Your phone records show you made that call at six fifty-four that morning.”

  “So I called Reece,” Kirsten says. “Big deal. Like I said before, we have common business interests. I call Reece all the time.”

  “But you’re forgetting one thing,” I point out. “Your phone also has GPS on it and it shows that you went out to Cooper’s Woods that morning. Plus that ground out there by Cooper’s Woods is pretty unique between all the pine needles on the ground in the woods and the nature of the soil in that glacial field. I’m betting the soil sample we took from the wheels on Reece’s ATV just a little bit ago will be a match.”

  Finally Kirsten starts to realize that her crime might not have been as perfect as she originally thought. Her eyes look wild and panicked for a moment; then a level of calm seems to return and that tells me she has one last gambit.

  “Lars was killed with an arrow, and I don’t own a bow and arrow. Nor do I know how to shoot one.”

  “You probably didn’t until Reece taught you how,” I say. “That’s why his equipment was missing. He took it out so he could teach you how to use it. He might not be able to shoot very well anymore because of his Parkinson’s but he can still teach it. That’s the one part I haven’t figured out yet.... Where did you hide the equipment while you were practicing?”

  Kirsten just smiles. It’s obvious she isn’t going to spill the beans yet, so I try one more prod. “Did you use Reece’s arrow to frame him, or was it insurance in case he decided to talk?”

  It doesn’t get Kirsten talking, but Reece bites. “I’m not going down for killing Lars,” he says. “She did it. She killed him. She came up with the whole idea. But she was supposed to use Jeff’s equipment, not mine.” He glares at Kirsten. “You stabbed me in the back, bitch, and I’m telling them everything I know.”

  “Shut up, Reece!” Kirsten snaps.

  “Too late for that,” he says. “You’re a traitor.”

  “You’re not making any sense, Reece.”

  “You set me up!”

  “You’re being ridiculous. I—”

  “How could you? You purposely tried to pin this on me. I trusted you and you stabbed me in the back!”

  “I—”

  “Why else would you have used one of my arrows?”

  “It was an accident!” she snaps. Too late she realizes what she’s just said. She clamps a hand over her mouth, almost as if she’s trying to take back the words. Her eyes squeeze closed for several seconds, and then she opens them, drops her hand, and looks at me. “He was dealing drugs, you know,” she says in a dull voice. “He was ruining our town, ruining people’s lives, and all so he could make a buck. He deserved to die.”

  Richmond, who is still holding his handcuffs, walks over to Kirsten. “Kirsten Donaldson, you are under arrest for the murder of Lars Sanderson.” He continues reciting her Miranda rights while cuffing her hands behind her back. I walk over to the front door and signal to the squad car parked out front. KY gets out of the car and comes in at a trot to assist by handcuffing and arresting Reece.

  As they are being escorted out of the house, Charlie gives me a high five and says, “Nice work, Mattie.”

  “Thanks.”

  “By the way,” she adds. “I love what you’ve done with your hair.”

  That does it. I call Barbara and book an appointment as soon as I get to my car.

  Chapter 32

  My sister, Desi’s, house smells even better than usual. It’s Thanksgiving Day, a day Hurley and I missed out on last year because we were in hiding. My mother and her live-in boyfriend, William, are here, as are Izzy and Dom. Hurley, Emily, Matthew, and I all arrive together and we are greeted with open arms by everyone except my mother, who doesn’t like to touch people because of the germ risk.

  Emily has been home for a week now, and she’s doing great both physically, mentally, and emotionally. Apparently her near-death experience out in the woods has shaken some sense into her. She has apologized to both me and Hurley numerous times, and her attitude is light-years away from the sullen, angry teenager I knew a short time ago. The realization that she chose Matthew as her password for her computer gave me hope, and so far those hopes have been realized. It’s been a week without theatrics, tantrums, or sulking.

  Both Olivia and Carly are being dealt with, though in an amazing act of maturity and forgiveness, Emily pleaded with her father that he not press any charges. Hurley confided in me that he’s agreeing to Emily’s request, mainly because he doesn’t have any crime he can pin on them other than possession of marijuana, and that one would only stick if Olivia confesses to it. The girls lied, and they played cruel tricks on both Johnny and Emily, but they didn’t break any laws worth pursuing. Word about what they did got out and both girls are now suspended from school and pariahs among those who used to call them friends. To Emily, this seems like punishment enough.

  From the moment we arrive at my sister’s house there is a lot of oohing and aahing over Matthew again, but this time there is as much, if not more, coddling of Emily. She is eating up every bit of the attention she’s getting, and the huge smile on her face puts one on mine.

  Hurley has been home all week playing nursemaid with Emily, showering her with his undivided attention. I realize that this is Hurley’s way of saying he cares. The words don’t come easy for him, but his actions speak loud and clear. Most of our talk during the week has been by phone, and it’s been centered around Emily, her recovery, and what was going to happen with the girls who set her up. So when Hurley and I find ourselves alone in a corner of the living room at one point, I bring him up to speed on the Sanderson case.

  “I heard they found some pieces of hay in Kirsten’s trunk,” he says. “I’m guessing those are from the bales that were missing from Morton’s storage unit?”

  I nod. “Kirsten has been hauling them around for the past six months, setting them up whenever she and Reece got together for a lesson. As a broker she had access to several rural properties and she and Reece used them to set up the targets for practice so no one would see them.”

  “Six months?”
Hurley says, shaking his head. “They were planning this for a long time.”

  I nod. “Kirsten is one smart cookie. And a very good liar. You know that key you asked her to give you when we found her at Lars’s house?”

  Hurley nods.

  “She gave you a key to something else and kept the key to Lars’s town house. And Lars never gave her that key. She had it from when she sold all those town house units for Lars. She had keys to every one of them back then and she kept copies of them all. And she used the one for Lars’s unit to go in and snoop around. That’s how she found out about his cash stash. She saw the same bank statements we did and realized that he had to have cash lying around somewhere. She told Richmond that Lars used to talk about his security blanket all the time and she knew that meant his cash stash.”

  Hurley shakes his head. “It was quite the elaborate plan. How on earth did you figure it out?”

  “It was something I said when we were talking to Emily at the hospital. In figuring out where she might be, it was more about what wasn’t there than what was. She had that diary notebook, the same kind that Maggie Baldwin gave me, and Maggie told me that Emily claimed she was using it. Yet it appeared empty. Then I remembered the invisible ink thing Desi and I used to do.

  “Same thing with the Sanderson case; it was about what wasn’t there. Kirsten said she was in Lars’s place looking for a proposal she had given him the night before. Yet we never found one. She also said she tried to call him before she came over, but there was no record of any call. Plus, it’s bothered me from the start that Reece Morton’s equipment mysteriously went missing. I might have bought into someone stealing his bow and arrows, but why were the hay bales he used as targets also missing? That didn’t make much sense to me. But once we got a look at Reece’s and Kirsten’s phone records, it did. Reece called Kirsten from his car that day when we followed him to his storage unit, and they cooked up the story about the equipment being stolen. It turned out that he lied to us when he told us that the combination to the lock on that unit was his birthdate. Kirsten told him to say that to make it more plausible that someone could have broken into the unit.”

  Hurley shakes his head, but he’s wearing an expression of grudging admiration. “She’s a clever gal,” he says. “And ruthless.”

  “No kidding,” I agree. “The other thing that bothered me was why there were no fingerprints on the arrow that killed Lars. I know that archers sometimes use gloves, but there still should have been prints on that arrow from when it was loaded into the quiver, or when it was made. Bo custom-made that arrow, so wouldn’t his prints be on it somewhere? The fact that they weren’t suggested to me that someone had wiped those arrows down and the only reason to do that would be to cover up evidence. Then, of course, we found one of Reece Morton’s arrows at Jeff Hunt’s place, mixed in with Hunt’s arrows. And interestingly enough, all of those arrows had prints on them except for one—Reece’s.”

  “I assume Kirsten planted the arrow there?” Hurley says.

  I nod. “She did. She never meant to use Reece’s arrow on Lars. That was a mistake. But she was so nervous when she was getting her equipment ready that she accidentally mixed one of Reece’s arrows in with the other ones. So when she went to put them back, she threw another one of Reece’s arrows in there to make sure Hunt looked guilty. She was the one who took the archery equipment from Brad Donaldson’s car and planted it in Jeff’s shed. She knew the code for the garage door because she used to live there. And she knew that Jeff’s own archery equipment was too rinky-dink to do the job. So she used Brad’s equipment and then put it in Jeff’s shed to frame him.”

  “How did she get Lars out to the woods in the first place?”

  “She told him that old man Cooper wanted to meet with him because he was thinking about selling the land. The only caveat was that Cooper wanted to keep the woods as is for the next five years because he’d already sold land permits to hunters who came there every year. Since Cooper is an avid hunter himself, Kirsten convinced Lars that if they pretended to be hunters when they went out to the property to meet with him, it would help sway the old man’s decision and assure him that the land would be used the way he wanted. She knew Lars didn’t like guns or hunting, so that’s how she explained the bow and arrow she took with her. It was her intention once they got out there to simply shoot Lars with the arrow. But the sun was just coming up at the time, and she was nervous, so her first arrow—which was one of Brad’s—missed. Lars had his back to her at the time and he thought she’d fired the arrow carelessly. He got angry and started yelling, and when he went to get the arrow out of the tree it ended up in, Kirsten grabbed the rock and hit him on the head with it. It knocked Lars down but it didn’t kill him. While he was lying there, Kirsten fired the second arrow, the one that killed him. She did it fast before he could recover and didn’t realize until after the fact that the arrow wasn’t one of Hunt’s. After that she was in a hurry to get out of there because she didn’t know if any nearby hunters might have heard them. In her haste, she remembered to grab the first arrow she fired, but she forgot about the rock. She headed deeper into the woods and came out by a field a mile or so away, and then called Reece to come and get her with the ATV, something they had arranged ahead of time.”

  “Wow, that woman is one conniving, evil witch,” Hurley says.

  “I know,” I agree. “It almost makes me mad that they offered her a plea bargain in exchange for a confession. They should lock her up and throw away the key.”

  By the time dinner is ready, we all gather around the two tables my sister has put together. I have a large envelope I bring to the table with me and my sister sees it and gives me a questioning look.

  “You’ll see soon enough,” I tell her.

  Once we’re all settled, instead of saying grace, Desi asks that each of us mention one thing we are grateful for. “I’m grateful for this big extended family,” she says, starting us off.

  Lucien says, “I’m grateful that the women in my life are so understanding.” This generates some giggles from both me and Desi.

  William is next, and with a loving look at my mother, he says, “I’m glad that after our date sank like the Titanic, Mattie had the good sense to fix me up with her mother.”

  More giggles.

  My mother is next and her response is typical of her hypochondriacal, germophobic self. “I’m grateful that Ebola virus seems to be going back into hiding.”

  Next up is Hurley. With a surprising amount of sincerity and a little hitch in his voice, he says, “I’ve always wanted to be a father, so I’m grateful for getting two kids in less than a year.” This garners smiles all around, but none bigger than Emily’s.

  It’s my turn, and I look over at Emily with genuine affection. The kid has wormed her way into my heart, though I didn’t realize just how much until this latest debacle. “I’m grateful that Emily made it home safe and sound.”

  Izzy is next, and he looks over at Dom, smiles, and says, “I’m grateful for this incredible man who has enriched my life in so many ways.”

  Dom makes a face like he’s about to cry and leans over to kiss Izzy on the cheek. Izzy, never one for public displays of affection, tolerates it but blushes. When he’s done with his kiss, Dom says, “I’m grateful that Izzy has seen the light and agreed to look into us adopting a child!” He claps his hands with glee and smiles, and everyone around the table whoops. There is a chorus of “Congratulations” and other kudos.

  When the commotion dies down, Desi says, “Emily, you’re up next.”

  Emily smiles, looks at her dad, and then at me. “I’m grateful that Mattie didn’t give up on me,” she says. And then she starts to cry.

  Erika, who is sitting next to Emily, reaches over and gives her a hug. Then, in a not so subtle stage voice, Erika says, “Way to go, E-one. Between you and Dom, I’ve got one tough act to follow.”

  Erika’s comment has the desired effect. Emily starts to laugh and everyone el
se chuckles, too.

  “E-one?” I ask once Erika releases Emily.

  Erika shrugs. “We decided that since there are three of us whose names start with the letter E, that we would call ourselves E-one, E-two, and E-three.” She points to Emily, herself, and then Ethan as she lists the nicknames.

  Ethan says, “I think it’s stupid.”

  Erika rolls her eyes at her brother, tosses an arm over Emily’s shoulders, and says, “And that’s why I’m grateful to have a new sister.”

  Despite the tears coursing down her cheeks, Emily has a huge smile on her face.

  “Okay, E-three,” Desi says, moving the attention away from the girls. “You’re the last one and the food is getting cold.”

  Ethan ponders for a few seconds and then says, “I’m grateful there are bugs in the world.”

  There is a moment of silence as we all exchange looks. Then Erika says, “You are such a dweeb.”

  “Shut up,” Ethan counters.

  In an effort to lighten the mood even more and divert attention away from the kids, I grab the large envelope I’ve been holding in my lap. “I have a little gift for all of you,” I say. Then I remove the contents. “It occurred to me that I don’t have any pictures of Matthew to pass around or show to anyone, so I had some made and just got them yesterday. Unfortunately, it seems my son hates having his picture taken as much as I do, and he’s equally as photogenic. There was only one shot out of about fifty where he wasn’t crying, and this is it.”

  I pass pictures around the table and get mixed reactions. My mother gasps, Hurley groans, Izzy laughs, Dom says, “Oh, my,” and everyone else sniggers. Matthew’s only picture with a smile also has a huge snot bubble coming out of his nose.

  “That’s impressive,” Lucien says, nodding slowly. “He’s good with the bubbles. I wonder if I could do one that big.”