Paula K. Perrin - Small Town Deadly

by Paula K. Perrin

  She rested her hand on my arm, “Are you scared?”

  I nodded. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.” I pushed my toast aside, my throat so tight I couldn’t swallow. I gazed out the small window at the cloudy sky.

  She sighed. “As soon as Grandmother gets out of the hospital, I think we’d better go somewhere safe, don’t you?”

  “But—”

  “Safety first, that’s what you’ve always drummed into my head, and I hate to set a bad precedent by taking your advice, but—”

  “Idiot child,” I said.

  “That is not at all P.C., you know.”

  “Screw P.C.”

  “Aunt Liz!”

  I called the hospital. They couldn’t report anything new until the doctor had seen Mother. Being a Sunday, that wasn’t likely to happen till noon.

  I glanced at the clock as I hung up. “Good lord, Meg, we are late!”

  I was ready first and standing impatiently at the front door with my Book of Common Prayer in my hand when Meg, dressed in a cinnamon-brown dress with gold buttons, rocketed down the stairs with Bunny.

  I opened the door, but Meg said, “Just a sec.”

  “We’re going to be late.”

  “No, we’re not, you’re used to having to go slowly because of Grandmother.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve got a deal for you.”

  I groaned. “Not now, Meg.”

  “This is important,” she said, her brown eyes earnest.

  “All right,” I sighed, “what’s the deal?”

  “You agree to hire a private investigator to find my—my biological mother, and I’ll go back to school.”

  “No deals, Meg.”

  Her face reddened. “That’s not fair! I need to know—”

  “What I meant was, I don’t want finding your mother connected to your education. I’ll hire a detective for you.”

  Her face lit with a smile.

  I held up my hand. “But we need an agreement about how we’ll handle it if she’s found.”

  “That’s none of your business! She’s my mother, and—”

  “It is my business. I’m the one who changed your diapers, I’m the one who found you an algebra tutor, I’m the one who—”

  Meg held up her hands. “I know, Aunt Liz.” She fingered one of her gold buttons. “You’ve always been here for me. But can’t you understand that I need to talk to my—” she crossed her arms over her chest “—mother? I need to talk to her myself, alone.”

  I realized I was shaking my head. I forced myself to stop, to breathe. “Okay, you can meet with her alone, but I’m going along so I’ll be nearby if you need me.”

  She pursed her lips and shook her head. “You keep treating me like a baby.”

  “Then grow up,” I said.

  She grabbed the doorknob, yanked the door open, and ran off toward the church, Bunny at her heels.

  My heart heavy, I followed, my heels clacking loudly in the little vacuum I seemed to occupy. I took a moment before I turned the corner to set aside the fear and hollowness I felt. I joined the jovial throng milling about on the sidewalk outside church entry. Several people mentioned the weather, glancing up at the overcast sky.

  From behind me a deep voice said, “Liz?”

  I turned quickly and almost fell into Charlie Aynesworth’s lap.

  He grabbed my forearm to steady me. His grip was strong. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “That’s all right. I’m so glad you came,” I said.

  “Wait’ll the lightning strikes,” he said.

  I patted his shoulder, his camel hair jacket soft under my hand. “Wait’ll you meet our choir director!”

  We grinned at each other. I asked after Sybil.

  “She had campaign promises to keep,” he said lightly, though his shoulders hunched. “I hadn’t forgotten how to drive the van after all, and here I am.”

  I spotted Kirk talking to Meg on the steps and called him over to introduce them. Moments later, Jill Ferguson appeared with Alisz and Jared in tow.

  “Look who’s come over to the right side!” Jill said, clutching Alisz’ arm.

  The anger I’d felt over what Alisz had done to Meg in telling her about her mother surged up. I swallowed hard and tried to smile. Church was the place to bury grudges, after all.

  “You are surprised to see us,” Alisz said.

  “Well, of course I am,” I replied too heartily.

  “We’ve already been to early mass,” Alisz said. She rested a hand on my arm. “I thought perhaps I could be of some comfort to you for the sorrows you are enduring.”

  “How thoughtful of you,” I said. A silence hung between us. “Uh, I hope we can comfort you, too, in the loss of Annamaria.”

  “Her funeral will be tomorrow. It was announced in church this morning.”

  I thought of all the funerals there’d be in Warfield this week. Oh, what I’d give to go back three days.

  Alisz rubbed my arm, her eyes searching my face. “Liz, you look so sad.”

  I gave myself a mental shake. Alisz, too, had lost a best friend, someone who’d helped fill her empty days after Hugh’s death, who’d involved her in committees and causes, who’d eased the way when she’d so often offended without meaning to. I said, “I’d be glad to drive you to Annamaria’s funeral if that will help.”

  Her face changed strangely into a rictus of grief that quickly became a strained smile. She said, “Oh, but I am sure you will be too busy for that.”

  Kirk, talking to Charlie, bumped against me.

  “No, I’ve got nothing planned tomorrow, and I’d be glad to help you,” I said.

  “But, Liz, I came to comfort you today. Perhaps later we will talk about tomorrow.”

  I didn’t feel comforted. I felt panicked, hemmed in by Charlie, Kirk, Jill, Jared and Alisz, frightened by the earlier call. Surely none of these people could be the caller. No way he could act this normal. Still, my heart was thudding, and I fled.

  The front rows were always the last to fill, often remaining empty. I sat with my head bowed. No well-bred Episcopalian would think of interrupting a person in prayer.

  “Where the fuck’s my gun?” Gene hissed, sliding into the pew next to me.

  I glanced over, a reprimand sharp on my tongue, but it was never delivered because his hair was so neatly combed, because he wore a navy pin-striped suit with assurance, because I felt breathless and my palms began to sweat.

  “You must have a spare,” I whispered.

  “That’s not the point. I want it back. And my keys and my wallet and my godammed defective phone.”

  Any triumph I might have felt was quelled by his glare and the rigid line of his mouth under his moustache.

  “You can come get them after the service—”

  “I’m never entering that mausoleum again, remember?”

  “Fine! I’ll bring them to the station tomorrow.”

  He laid his arm along the back of the pew behind me and leaned even closer, his peppermint-scented breath tickling my neck. “I want those things today. Immediately after church. The pictures, too. Don’t give me any more shit about them.”

  I tried to lean away, but his left hand dug into my shoulder, holding me in place.

  There was a commotion at the back, and Charlie’s deep voice said, “Thanks.”

  My mind flitted from Gene’s threat to Charlie, and I immediately felt guilty. I’d abandoned Charlie. A rustle in the pew behind us announced the arrival of more parishioners.

  “I don’t want to be seen with you,” I whispered.

  “Me neither. You think I want rumors starting about me and some dried-up old maid?”

  I surged to my feet, breaking Gene’s grip on me.

  “Meet me at the Scout hut,” Gene said, his voice unintentionally loud in the waiting church.

  Everyone looked at me. Face hot, ignoring Alisz, Jared, and Jill, in the pew behind us, I hurried to the back of the church where Charlie sat in h
is wheelchair. I squeezed past him into the pew.

  “How’re you doing?” I whispered.

  “Not singed yet.”

  Meg played the introductory bars to the processional, and I got to my feet. I glanced down at Charlie. He was intent on his hymnal, his voice rising strong and beautiful with the passing choir.

  I heard scarcely anything Kirk said about maintaining faith in the face of loss. All I could think about was that the killer could be one of the people in church with me.

  Kirk, for example, striding back and forth as he preached, vestments flying, dispensed pills he shouldn’t. He’d been frustrated with Andre’s attitude toward the church and the problems with the roof, he’d been in the play, and he’d been hanging around our house a lot. It could be Kirk.

  I glanced toward the front pews and saw Gene’s red hair. Though I didn’t know what reason he might have to kill Andre, he’d had the opportunity. Because of the photographs, and maybe because of their past relationship, he had a reason to kill Fran. But he’d been with me when the call came last night. Unless he had a partner? Maybe he’d set something up electronically? Yesterday he’d said he didn’t care about the pictures; today he was demanding their return.

  I knew Alisz and Jill were sitting in the pew behind him, though I couldn’t see them. I couldn’t imagine either of them as the killer anymore than I could imagine killing someone myself. Jill was just a nosy, middle-aged spinster whose worst crime was gossiping. And Alisz, while never a close friend—well, I knew how much she’d overcome and how much she valued what she’d gained through her own hard work and perseverance.

  During the passing of the peace I stared into people’s faces and wondered, Did you kill Fran? Could it have been you? I longed for the service to end.

  I was consumed by the facts I’d gathered the last few days, the people I’d talked to, the things they’d said. How could I make sense of it? How could I protect the people I loved?

  Because we were in the back, we waited a long time for our turn at communion while the choir sang “My Faith Looks Up to Thee.” Gradually the individual phrases took on a personal meaning: I was faint of heart. I was surrounded by grief, caught in a dark maze, and so far, I hadn’t acted with any faith at all, just panic, anger, and fear. I took a deep breath, then another.

  “Liz?” Charlie whispered, touching me gently on the elbow.

  I’d closed my eyes. The line had moved forward.

  “You all right?”

  I smiled down at him. “Yes, I’m fine.” I’d realized what I needed to do. No one else was going to die because of the killer’s rage at me.

  Judging by the fury that had poured across the telephone line this morning, I realized that if I sat quietly at home where the killer would be sure to find me, I shouldn’t have long to wait for an attack.

  But first I had to get Meg out of the way and return Gene’s stuff so he wouldn’t crash around and spoil things.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  By the time I evaded Gene by riding with Charlie in the tiny elevator that went down to the basement and joined the chattering crowd, I was completely at peace.

  The choir director urged Charlie to attend rehearsals on Wednesday. He looked so happy, and I was glad I’d allowed my feelings to guide me to invite him to church. “You’re going to be terrific,” I said, and left him talking with one of the tenors. I walked to the refreshment table, where friends of Mother’s invited me to brunch.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t,” I spoke loudly, “after I run an errand, I have to stay by the phone.” I turned away, nearly bumping into Alisz.

  I thanked her for coming and walked up the stairs with her. We met Meg, Bunny, and Jared coming down.

  “You bring your dog into church?” Alisz demanded.

  Meg looked down at Bunny. “I didn’t mean to,” she said. She didn’t look at me while Jared told us they’d decided to go climbing. I was about to nix that idea when I remembered that Gene had said Jared was in the clear.

  “We’ll be back in time for dinner with the Vico’s,” Jared said to his mother.

  “All right. Be careful.” She was meeting some business associates for brunch at the Quay and hurried up the steps.

  “Are you through socializing?” Meg asked stiffly.

  “Yes,” I replied as neutrally as possible.

  We were halfway home before Meg stopped and faced me. “Aunt Liz, I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  A host of remarks fluttered through my mind, but I held my tongue.

  She glanced down at the sidewalk, then at me. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about school. I don’t like falling behind.”

  “So you’ll go back to—”

  “No. I don’t want to be where I might see Benjamin, at least not now.”

  Jared shifted restlessly.

  Meg continued, “But I could pick up some credits at WSU.”

  “Or you could go to school with me—” Jared began.

  Meg shook her head impatiently. “I just want to explore for awhile.” Her big brown eyes gazed straight into mine, “Would that be okay?”

  “I think it’s a great idea.”

  “Yeah?” Meg’s eyes lit up. She picked up Bunny and whirled around so fast his ears flew out behind him.

  “But, Meg,” I said, “this doesn’t change my mind about the other—”

  “I know, I know, we can talk about that later.”

  Jared looked from Meg to me and back as though he wanted to ask questions, but he settled for, “Can we get going?”

  I glanced up at the grey clouds blowing over. “Doesn’t look like such good weather for climbing,” I said.

  “It should hold off awhile,” he said. “If it doesn’t, we’ll go up to Stevenson and see the new exhibit at the Interpretive Center.”

  “You’ve never been interested in museums,” Meg said.

  “Well, now I am.”

  Meg said, “If a certain aunt were in a magnanimous mood, we could even have lunch at Skamania Lodge.”

  Glad to have Meg safely out of the way, I made a donation to the lunch fund and made them promise they’d call me before they started back.

  After they’d gone, I called the hospital and was lucky enough to catch Mother’s doctor at her bedside. Dr. Cox had known me all my life, so he didn’t take me for a raving lunatic when I explained what had been happening and insisted he get Mother a private nurse until he could arrange for a transfer to a convalescent hospital.

  “Okay!” I said, banging down the phone. Now all I had to do was make sure Gene didn’t interfere. After I changed into jeans and an ancient sweatshirt, I got his gun from the bedside table.

  He wanted it back, but I wasn’t going to give it to him. Much as I hated guns, I needed one now. I shoved it into the waistband of my jeans, shivering as the smooth, cool barrel slid against my skin. I looked in the mirror. It showed if you were looking for it, but who’d ever suspect me of carrying a gun?

  I ran downstairs, grabbed the bag that held Gene’s junk, and pulled open the door to the porch. I stopped dead. What if? What if Gene is the one? Feeling melodramatic but sensible at the same time, I turned back to leave a note. I picked up a pencil and rummaged through the tower of junk mail to find a blank envelope to write on. The whole pile tilted and slid onto the floor.

  I plucked a blank envelope out of the mess and threw it onto the table, then scooped up a handful of catalogues, flyers, and ads. My eyes focused on the glossy page of a cosmetics catalogue. The ad featured a new line of ultra-moist lipsticks in faux-carved ivory cases.

  I closed the booklet. Stamped on the back were Alisz’ address and phone number. “Call me with your order” had been penned in underneath.

  “My God, my God, my God, what have I done?” I whispered, the slick pages vibrating to my heartbeat.

  I’d sent Meg off with Jared. Jared who would have had such easy access to his mother’s wares. Jared, who like Meg, conside
red Annamaria’s house his second home—how easy to filch a string of sequins from the costume she made for Meg.

  I’d believed Gene’s assessment that Jared was safe. How could I have ignored Jared’s impatience to get Meg away? Rock climbing in the rain? An eagerness to see a museum Meg said he wasn’t interested in? Why hadn’t I paid better attention?

  I ran to the phone and punched out 9-1-1. A woman’s voice said, “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

  I hung up. If I said I’d sent my niece off with the murderer and the reason I knew his rage was directed at me was because he was obsessed with Meg and I hadn’t let them get married—they’d think I was crazy. I’d waste time trying to convince them.

  Meg was out on a sheer rock face with Jared—but there was no time to lose in explaining to strangers.

  I punched out Alisz’s number. She’d always had a lot of influence over him. Weren’t sociopaths the products of overbearing mothers? Just the answering machine at her house. I remembered Alisz saying she was going to brunch. But wait—the same evidence could mean Alisz was the killer. No. I’d known her all my life. But—

  I stamped my foot in frustration. Meg. I had to get to Meg. “Oh, God.” It came out a sob. What could I do? I needed Gene. He could get people moving, get the Sheriff’s department covering the roads looking for Jared’s truck.

  As I ran out of the house, the phone rang. The only person who could help me was Gene, anyone else was a waste of time. I kept on going and jumped in my car. The gun gouged me. I drew it out and set it on the seat beside me. The tires screeched as I sped out of the driveway. I tore down Main Street, Sunday noon quiet, ran the red light by the library. Two Warfield cop cars roared the other way, but Gene wasn’t in them.

  I skidded to a stop in front of the police/fire complex, bouncing off the curb. As I jumped out of the car, Gene’s gun caught my eye. Great—all I needed was some eagle-eyed cop to notice it. I bent over, stuffed it into my purse, and threw it onto the floor of the car.

  I ran to the door. Locked. A small sign I’d never noticed before said the complex was closed on Sundays and gave a number to call for emergencies. I pounded on the door with both fists. I was just turning away when a fireman in a dark blue t-shirt opened the door.