Death Walked In

by Carolyn Hart

  Max saw her glance. His face was suddenly serious. “Go home, Annie. I know it’s grim here.”

  “It would be grim there, too.” She would be haunted by images of Denise Cramer crumpling beneath the blows of the bloodied white-ash bat. Annie resolutely tied the trash bag, plunked it next to the door.

  Max reached for it.

  She grabbed his arm. “In the morning. Too much happens around here to go out in the dark. Maybe everything will be over by morning.” Ben in jail? Kerry’s world shattered? “Harrison intended to get formal statements from all of them this afternoon.”

  Max didn’t look hopeful. “More detail maybe. But nobody saw anything. Unless someone’s lying.”

  “Someone’s lying for sure.” Annie looked toward the hallway. “And somebody still wants the coins. They’re probably locked up somewhere in this house.”

  “Lightning doesn’t strike twice.” He sounded confident. “We’ll have a calm evening. Hal said he’d settle in with a good book tonight. No TV. We won’t be caught by surprise.”

  A frenzied knock rattled the back door.

  As Max strode to the door, Annie followed close behind.

  When the door opened, Barb Grant timidly looked inside. In the wash of light from the overhead fluorescent panels, she looked wan, eyes reddened from weeping, no makeup, her hair frowsy. She reached out a shaking hand. “Can I talk to you?”

  Annie looked past her, saw Hal Porter near the hedge. She gave a tiny shake of her head. He nodded and slipped back into the shadows.

  Max held the door wide. “Sure. Come on in.” His voice was gentle.

  Barb edged inside. “Everything’s awful.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “They’ve taken Ben to Beaufort. Tomorrow they’re going to charge him with murder.”

  Annie’s heart ached, even though the news came as no surprise. Maybe Harrison had made the right choice. Still, Annie didn’t believe Ben had twice committed murder. All right. Face it. She didn’t want Ben to be guilty because of Kerry. But if not Ben, who? She saw faces in her mind: gentlemanly Geoff, arrogant Justin, supercilious Margaret, tender Kerry, forlorn Barb. None of them fit.

  Barb stood in the bright fresh kitchen and looked as though her world had collapsed. Her hands twined together, twisting, twisting. She looked at Annie. “You were nice to Rhoda today. I took her a tray tonight, and she said you were kind. I know it may seem strange for me to come here. There’s no reason you should help me, but your house seems to be part of everything, and I know you helped Robert. I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

  Annie moved toward her, slipped her arm around thin shoulders. “Let’s go in by the fire.” She knew Barb was cold, the deep pervading cold of shock. “Would you like to have something to drink?” They weren’t equipped for hospitality. At home they had brandy or cocoa, something to pump warmth into a body diminished by grief and anguish. Here there was hot coffee in a thermos, nothing more.

  “I don’t want anything. Thank you.” Barb spoke almost primly, remembering her manners.

  Max stood by the mantel as Annie and Barb sat on the folding chairs.

  “I thought Ben would come home tonight. Everyone else came home.” Barb’s voice was thin and wavery. “We all had to go to the police station this afternoon. Everybody but Rhoda. I guess they don’t care about her since she was in Chastain when Denise was killed. The rest of us were there, Geoff and Justin and Margaret and Kerry and me. They made us wait on benches in that front entrance place. They talked to us one by one. I came home with Kerry. Justin and Margaret were next. About six, Kerry and I decided to fix something to eat. We cooked bacon and scrambled eggs and made English muffins. I took a tray up to Rhoda, but she couldn’t manage a bite. She just lies there and cries. Geoff didn’t come in until seven. I should have known. He wouldn’t look at me and he ate real fast and then he sent Kerry up to get Justin and Margaret and he had us come into the library.” She massaged her temple. “Me and Kerry and Justin and Margaret.” She stared at them with heartbreak in her eyes. “I can’t blame Geoff. He said they asked him about the check that was forged. He didn’t know how they found out. Maybe they talked to someone at the bank.”

  Max looked puzzled. “Check?”

  She crossed her arms tight against her body, her head sank forward. “We were in college. It was spring.” She came to a full stop.

  Annie scooted her chair forward, patted Barb’s shoulder.

  Barb looked at her with hollow eyes. “It wasn’t even that much money. Six hundred dollars isn’t that much.”

  “Six hundred dollars?” Annie wished that Barb did not look so defeated.

  “I had a chance to go on a cruise and somebody told me there was going to be a producer there. I thought if I could meet him…” Her voice trailed away.

  Max was brisk. “You took a check out of Geoff’s checkbook and forged his name.”

  Barb’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”

  Annie would have liked to take her by the shoulders and give her a good shake. “What does this have to do with Ben?”

  Barb’s gaze fell. “We’d been home for Geoff’s party. I’d asked him for the extra money and he’d said no and so I went down in the middle of the night and got a check out of his checkbook. I didn’t think he’d notice.”

  Max frowned. “What happened when he found out?”

  “He didn’t exactly find out. He wrote a letter to all of us, me and Ben and Justin and Kerry, saying there was an irregularity of six hundred dollars in his checks and he would be forced to contact the authorities if the matter weren’t cleared up immediately. Ben called me.” Again she came to a full stop.

  Max’s tone was thoughtful. “How did Ben know it was you?”

  “I’d asked him for money, too. Six hundred dollars.” Her voice wobbled. “He told me I was an idiot and why had I done it and I tried to make him understand and he was furious, but he told me he’d take care of everything.”

  Annie’s eyes opened wide. “What happened then?”

  Barb looked at her timidly. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Annie stared in disbelief.

  Max pushed away from the mantel. “You never asked Ben?”

  “No.” Her face mirrored guilt and heartbreak.

  “Ben took the blame for you.” Annie wondered at Barb’s willingness to protect herself at her brother’s expense and at the ostrich mentality that had avoided finding out what Ben had done. Perhaps in Barb’s world not knowing the outcome of Ben’s talk with Geoff almost made her feel as if nothing had ever happened. “Have the police come up with that old story?”

  Barb’s face was etched with misery. “Geoff told them Ben was a thief. Geoff thinks Ben took the coins and killed Gwen and Denise. Geoff said he had to tell the police what he knew because it all added up. Justin saw Ben out of his room the night the coins were taken and this morning Ben went to Denise’s cottage and he needed money and he was a known thief.” She shrank against the chair. “When Geoff said that, Kerry turned so white I thought she was going to faint. She got up and walked out without a word. And then”—Barb struggled for breath—“Geoff said he’d called a lawyer to see to Ben. Geoff walked out of the room. I went after him.” Her eyes were desperate. “I called out to him as he started up the stairs and told him I had to talk to him and he said not tonight, he was sorry but he’d had all he could take and he had to go up and see to Rhoda. I wanted to tell him. I tried to call after him and say it was all wrong, I was the one who’d forged the check, but he was gone. Then I knew what I had to do. I had to tell Kerry. I went up to her room and knocked and she didn’t answer. I tried the door and it was locked. I whispered that I had to tell her something important, that Ben was innocent. But she wouldn’t come to the door.”

  Max’s tone was gentle but firm. “You have to tell the police.”

  She clenched her hands. “I don’t know where to go or who to talk to. They took Ben to the mainland. I’ll tell them I forged the check and”—she took a de
ep breath, dragging in air—“I’ll tell them that Monday night I’d gone downstairs”—she talked so fast the words were slurred—“because Geoff wouldn’t let me have the money for the modeling school. I knew Ben needed money. He wouldn’t tell me why, but he said it was life and death and I knew he couldn’t help me. Kerry doesn’t have any money, and Justin’s a pig and would never help anyone else out. Geoff has this old drawing in his study and once Mother said it was amazing how much money it was worth, thousands of dollars, an original sketch by Klee or Klass or something like that, and I thought if I took it to Los Angeles somebody there would know how much it was worth and I’d have the money I needed. I’d got it and all of a sudden Ben was there. He took my wrist so hard it hurt and he said I couldn’t do it, that Geoff would find out and if I didn’t stop doing things like this, someday I’d end up in prison and it would be awful.”

  Annie looked forward. “You and Ben were downstairs Monday night?”

  Barb nodded, her face weary.

  “Did you see anyone? Did you hear anything?” Everything depended upon timing. Very likely Barb had waited until deep in the night when the house was quiet. Certainly the theft of coins would have taken place when the house was utterly still.

  Barb frowned. “I don’t know. Once I thought I heard a creak, but it might have been Ben.” She shook her head. “No, that was when I first got to the study.”

  “Did you turn on a light?”

  “I used a flashlight. I wore gloves.” There was a hint of pride at her careful preparations.

  Annie wondered if the thief, fresh from digging in Gwen’s family cemetery, had started to cross the hallway to return upstairs and been frozen into immobility by the gleam of a flashlight in Geoff’s study or by Ben’s hurried descent from upstairs.

  “Anyway”—Barb’s tone was resentful—“Ben made me put the drawing back. He marched me upstairs and waited until I went in my room before he went to his. And now”—it was a wail—“they’re going to put Ben in jail and it’s all my fault.”

  Annie hurried to the kitchen. She grabbed a roll of paper towels, ripped off a piece, dampened it. She took it to the living room and handed it to Barb.

  Max waited until Barb’s tears subsided. “Nothing can be done tonight. You need to speak with the circuit solicitor in Beaufort. His office is closed now. I’ll ask a lawyer I know to see if he can arrange for him to be in his office tomorrow even though it’s Saturday. Let me see what I can do.”

  Max took his cell and walked near the windows. He dialed. “Handler?” Quickly he brought the lawyer up to date. “Barb’s explanation might dissuade Posey from filing charges against Ben. Could you set it up for him to meet with Barb in the morning? Whether it changes his mind or not, he’d probably like to hear what she has to say.” Max listened, nodded. “All right. Nine a.m. She’ll come over on the early ferry.”

  He clicked off the phone, turned back to Annie and Barb. “Handler picked up the call at his son’s basketball game. He said Posey’s one of the referees and he’ll talk to him after the game. If we don’t hear back, everything will be set.”

  Barb lifted beseeching eyes. “Will you come with me?”

  Max looked uncertain. “The solicitor and I aren’t on good terms. However, I’ll take you if you wish.”

  “Please.” Her gaze dropped. “Will he tell Geoff?”

  Max was gentle. “Posey may feel that it will be necessary for him to talk to Geoff again. Don’t you think it would be best if you told Geoff yourself?”

  “I guess I’ll have to.” Barb’s voice was small.

  “Everything will be better tomorrow. Now I’ll walk you back to your house. Go straight to your room. Don’t talk to anyone. Lock your door.”

  Barb stared at him, her hand at her throat.

  Max looked at her steadily. “If Ben is innocent—”

  “Oh yes, he is!”

  “—and if you are innocent, there is still a murderer in that house.”

  The dying fire flickered. The wash of moonlight through the uncurtained windows made the living room seem huge. Oddly, Annie felt no menace now. Was that because Ben Travis-Grant was being held? She wasn’t sure. She only knew that for the first time since Wednesday morning, she felt safe in their lovely old house with no sense that danger lurked outside. She wondered if Max was asleep. “Max?” Her whisper was light.

  “Mmmm?”

  “Barb could have been lying.”

  “With Barb”—his tone was dry—“that is always a possibility. But”—he rolled over on one elbow, propped up—“I can’t see her volunteering as a noble sacrifice. In fact, I expect she fudged her story when she said she tried to tell Geoff. Still”—and now his tone was kind—“she’s doing her best and probably that’s a lot better than she usually does.”

  Annie propped up on her elbow, faced him. “What do you suppose Posey will do when we show up in the morning?”

  Max’s head shake was immediate. “Not us. Much as I love you and think you enhance any outing, if there is anyone Posey loathes more than me, it’s you.”

  Annie knew Max was right. Posey had been quick to charge Max with murder last August. His office and the island’s mayor had both looked hasty and foolish when Annie, with the assistance of Billy Cameron, proved Max a victim of a clever and calculated frame-up. Posey’s antipathy to Annie went back a long time ago to their clash when Ingrid had disappeared and Posey concluded she’d committed murder.

  She laughed. “Okay. I don’t mind staying home.” She had a vision of a cheerful morning at the bookstore, opening boxes and shelving new titles. “You can do your best to disappear into the wallpaper and let Barb win him over with her waiflike appeal.”

  Annie flew past Max, pulling on her windbreaker. Not a cloud marred the silky blue sky. It was going to be another gorgeous day in paradise with the temperature nudging seventy, although it was still chilly as the sun spilled over the pines. Annie took a deep breath of pine resin, marsh water, and cinnamon-scented japonica. “I’ve got to rush. Agatha was furious when I was late yesterday. She doesn’t care if Dorothy L. ever eats.”

  “Better wear gauntlets. I’m sure there’s a catalog with falconry equipment.” Max strolled toward the Corvette.

  Annie ignored the calumny. Agatha wasn’t vicious. She simply had a strong personality. As she flung into her Volvo, she called out, “Good luck with Posey. You’re the one who may need gauntlets.”

  “I’ll imitate wallpaper and hope for the best.”

  She was still smiling as she drove too fast. First she’d drop by the house and feed Dorothy L. and then she’d go to Death on Demand. It was shaping up to be a perfect Low Country day, a glimpse of sea, a splash of sun, and the best mystery bookstore north of Miami.

  The Corvette pulled up behind a decade-old beige Toyota sedan. They were the only cars on the ferry. The Miss Jolene’s deep whistle blared three times, and the ferry eased away from the dock.

  Barb clutched Max’s arm. “That’s Kerry’s car.”

  The driver’s door of the Toyota opened. Kerry Foster-Grant stepped out and turned to look at the car behind her. As she walked toward the Corvette, the breeze rippled her feathery dark hair. She was slim and lovely in a charcoal-gray wool suit set off by a cherry-red silk blouse and black pumps. A pearl choker emphasized the grace of her throat. She looked businesslike and determined.

  Barb took a deep breath. “I have to talk to her.” On deck, she hesitated then moved slowly forward, a contrast in style and demeanor, her raglan sweater multihued and shapeless above black wool trousers and black leather flats, her posture defeated.

  Max slid out of the car. The air off the water was cold. Gulls cawed. Frothy whitecaps lipped the water. The ferry chugged steadily westward across the sound, the mainland not yet in view.

  Kerry’s face was set and stern, her deep violet eyes filled with anguish. “I’m on my way to Beaufort. It’s all a lie about Ben. Geoff said the police think he stole the coins because he needed m
oney. He’d asked Geoff for help, offered to sign a note, but Geoff turned him down. Ben should have told him why he wanted the money. A good friend of his in Thailand needs an operation and can’t pay for it. Ben didn’t want to say. He was afraid Geoff wouldn’t believe him. Now the police think he took the coins to sell them. He didn’t. Ben wouldn’t steal, not ever.”

  Barb looked insubstantial, as if the brisk wind that ruffled the water could topple her overboard.

  Kerry stared at Barb. “You forged the check. I know that’s what happened. You’re the only person Ben would lie for. You shouldn’t have done that to him. You shouldn’t have made him lie.”

  Barb lifted a hand in appeal. Her face was drawn. “I tried to tell you last night. I tried to tell Geoff. I’m on my way there now. I’m going to see the circuit solicitor”—she stumbled a little over the title—“and tell him the truth.”

  The hardness eased out of Kerry’s face. “I knew that’s what happened. I knew that was the only answer. Ben didn’t steal. He wouldn’t steal. Oh Barb, Barb.” Kerry’s face crumpled, tears sliding down ashen cheeks. “Oh Barb, thank you.”

  They came together in a tight embrace.

  “Gauntlets.” Annie’s tone was derisive. However, she still wore her jacket and she moved with alacrity, slipping the bowl onto Agatha’s mat and evading a quick slash of fangs. It wouldn’t be necessary to tell Max that Agatha had at first evidenced displeasure. Now the sleek and elegant black cat was purring as she ate.

  Annie shed her jacket, hanging it in the storeroom. She returned to the coffee bar, started a pot of Colombian coffee, and settled at a table with the previous afternoon’s Gazette, which she’d retrieved from the house when she fed Dorothy L.