Taking the Fall: A Cozy Mystery (Brenna Battle Book 1)

by Laney Monday

  “I don’t know if I’m up for trying to break into Eric’s house yet. I just got cleared of that crime!”

  “Oh, no! We can’t do that. For all we know, he never even found it, and it’s still hidden in Ellison’s house somewhere.”

  “That’s it!”

  “No! Brenna, no!”

  “His next of kin will probably be here soon to take his things. This could be the only chance to find out the truth.”

  28

  We parked a couple blocks from Ellison’s house—a tiny 1940s bungalow—and slipped around the side. This kind of snooping was beginning to feel familiar. There was barely any space between the six-foot cedar-look fence and the rhododendrons. They were badly in need of a trim. I guess Ellison was more into digging into people’s lives and blackmailing them than doing yard work. I tried the only window within reach and found it securely locked.

  “Why don’t we just try the door?” Blythe said.

  “The door?”

  “Then maybe we won’t have to break in.” Blythe smiled at me hopefully. On the one hand, I knew it was just wishful thinking on her part. My sister wanted no more of this law-breaking. On the other hand, the last people in here were the Bonney Bay Police. Perhaps not the brightest bulbs in law enforcement, with the possible exception of Riggins …

  “Alright.” I darted around the rhododendron and into the shadows of the front stoop, with Blythe right behind me. I tried the knob, and—it turned! I looked over my shoulder at Blythe, wide-eyed at our luck.

  She made a fist and did a victory gesture with a silent, “Yes!”

  We let ourselves in. The floors were covered with old shag carpet. There was probably beautiful hardwood underneath, just waiting for some one like Will Riggins to uncover it and restore it to its former glory.

  We began searching the cramped downstairs, starting with the tiny kitchen. When we found no keys there, we headed to the living room.

  “Let’s split up. I’ll go upstairs and take the bedroom.” For some reason, I didn’t want Blythe in Ellison’s bedroom, even though the poor man was dead and gone. Especially since he was dead. Wasn’t that where he’d been killed, in the bedroom? I couldn’t remember if that piece of information had ever been revealed.

  I checked Ellison’s dresser, feeling increasingly like an intruder, more and more uncomfortable, as I carefully sifted through stacks of rumpled clothes. Had Ellison been sloppy with his laundry, or had the police left it like this after their search? What exactly did I expect to find that the police hadn’t? This just felt so wrong. But if I didn’t look, I’d always wonder. Who had killed Ellison? What had Eric done? And—did Will Riggins have anything to do with it? Had he helped cover it up? Was I attracted to not just a jerk, but a criminal this time?

  I left the dresser and moved on to the night stand. Like much of the furniture, it was old, stained a dark cherry, and oddly feminine. Old lady-ish. I wondered if Ellison had bought the house furnished. Or maybe it was a furnished rental.

  I pulled open the top drawer, and I stopped cold.

  The drawer was lined with black velvety fabric. On top of the fabric, women’s items were arranged in several perfect rows. They were not old lady items. I tried to tell myself these were his current mistress’s things, but something about them made the hair on the back of my neck prick up. Maybe it was the way each lipstick, comb, brush or hair clip was set so perfectly. It reminded me of something—of old-fashioned insect specimens pinned to a board.

  The brushes! There were two of them, each with very different hair caught around their bristles. This was not simply a drawer filled with a woman’s things, or even several different women’s things. It was a collection. Had Blythe’s hairbrush been part of this collection? Had all of these women left these things here, or had Ellison taken them? Ellison certainly would’ve had the opportunity to take Blythe’s brush.

  This must be what Riggins had found, what had led him to believe that, absent any other evidence, Blythe likely had nothing to do with that brush being used to kill Ellison. Had the mysterious new girlfriend Amy the grocery store clerk had told us about found it here? Had she freaked out and killed him out of jealousy? Or had she discovered the whole collection and gone crazy with disgust—or even fear? I mean, what a creep!

  Should I tell Blythe what I’d found? Maybe not. I like being right as much as anyone. Well, actually, more than almost anyone. But this would really creep her out. I moved to shut the drawer, and one of the lipsticks rolled a little. The fabric was wrinkled a bit underneath it. No, not wrinkled. Raised up. I ran my finger over it, and felt the shape of something small, flat, and hard. I felt around the edge of the fabric. It lifted easily. I slid my fingers just far enough underneath to touch the strange object. My heart pitter-pattered. It was definitely metal, and definitely a key. I pulled it out and held it up in triumph.

  “I found it! I found the—”

  I whirled around, my heart pounding, no longer out of victory, but in fear. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a shadow, moving suddenly, violently, toward me. I stood there, frozen, ready, but there was no one in sight. The open doorway was directly in front of me. I inched out, and seeing no one, took a few steps into the hall. And that’s when the shadow emerged from an open bedroom doorway, gun drawn, aimed right at my head.

  It was Nicole Conway, the mayor of Bonney Bay.

  “Give me the key,” she said through gritted teeth.

  I stood there, staring at that weapon and praying that my sister did not decide to come up the stairs. I could give her the key, and then she’d kill me, of course. How could she possibly let me live? Why would she, if she’d already shown she was willing to kill Ellison?

  I dove for the stairs, and the blast of a gunshot rang in my ears. It took several bumpy, scared-for-my-life, adrenaline-propelled judo rolls to get me to the landing. I took the final flight of stairs in one desperate, leaping step—and collided with my sister. Blythe and I both lay prone on the ground when Nicole came tearing down the stairs.

  “Where is it? Where’s the key?”

  There was no escape route to jump into this time. I tried desperately to think of something clever to buy us a few seconds. But I knew what I was going to have to do. Rush her. Tackle her so at least Blythe could escape. Before my crazy little sister tried to do the same thing for me.

  For the moment, Blythe seemed stunned. “You? You’re the killer?”

  “No. She wouldn’t kill anyone. Would you, Nicole?”

  Blythe and I both turned our heads toward the voice, coming from the entryway behind us. It was Miss Ruth, and she was packing. The barrel of Nicole’s pistol moved from pointing at us, to squaring off with Ruth and her little handgun.

  “Come on, honey,” Ruth said. There was genuine gentleness in her tone, but her voice shook with fear and emotion. “No career is worth this.”

  To my dismay, Ruth lowered her gun a bit, while Nicole’s stayed steady. I don’t know if Ruth did it consciously or not, but it was clear her heart wasn’t in shooting Mayor Conway.

  “She’s right,” Blythe said. “Let’s just see if we can all figure this out together.”

  Yeah, right! Not a daisy’s chance in the Sahara! This lady was going to kill us all, and Ruth had the power to stop it, but her soft spot was getting the better of her. If I could get Ruth to give me her gun, we’d all be a heck of a lot safer. If she didn’t want blood on her hands, I’d take the job. I’d do a murderer in to save me and my sister, and Ruth too. I had to shake some sense into Ruth.

  “But she killed Ellison!” I stood and held up the key. “She killed him for this.”

  Ruth met my eyes. She looked so small and weak, I swear it was like she shrank right in front of me. “No, I killed Ellison.”

  29

  “Ruth?” Blythe said.

  Holy moly! Who was I supposed to take out now?

  A tear rolled down Ruth’s cheek. “I never meant to. I came here that night Ellison—died—to talk to
him about Nicole. About the evidence I had of her embezzling. I didn’t want to be here, in Bonney Bay, when it all went down. I planned to do the right thing and reveal what I knew—to hand it off to Ellison as an anonymous source, then get out of here and wash my hands of the whole dirty business.”

  “Why not just tell the police?” Blythe said.

  “I didn’t know how far it went. What if the police are involved? I still don’t know. I figured, if I went to the media first, all eyes would be on Bonney Bay, and the whole truth would eventually come out. And I wouldn’t have to worry about the wrong people at the department deciding I knew too much. I thought it was the story to die for for a young, small-time reporter like Ellison. I guess I was right about that in all the wrong ways. I hoped he could break the story and end the corruption. I’d given him the evidence I had the day before, and at my party, he’d told me he wanted me to come over in person to talk about it before I left Bonney Bay. But when I got here, I found him with her. I never would’ve guessed they were together.”

  “Together?”

  “Yes, she was his latest fling.”

  “I wasn’t just a fling!” Conway threw her arms out, gesturing passionately.

  Now was my chance. I dove into her with a simple but forceful double-leg takedown, squeezing her knees together with my arms and yanking her legs into the air so that she landed on her back, hard. The move was my bread-and-butter when I was a little kid, but the International Judo Federation had changed the rules on us years ago, eliminating the technique, supposedly because judo was starting to look too much like wrestling.

  The gun flew out of Nicole’s hand and a round went off. I stayed on top of Nicole, holding her in a tight pin. Her eyes were wide, and she didn’t breathe for a second. At first I thought she’d been hit by the stray bullet, but then she blinked and sucked some air. I’d knocked the wind out of her.

  “Is everyone okay?” I said.

  Ruth was crouched in a duck-and-cover position, her handgun sitting on the floor by her feet. Blythe, trembling, gave me the thumbs-up sign as she took out her cell phone. I nodded at Ruth’s gun. While the phone dialed and rang, Blythe hooked it with one finger and gingerly pulled it away from Ruth, the way the police do in movies when they’re investigating.

  “Will!” she said. “It’s Blythe Battle. We need some help here at Ellison Baxter’s house. Brenna caught the killer.”

  Man, those words were good to hear. Nicole heard them, too, and she made a last-ditch effort to fight. I cinched my hold tighter. She yelped, and then gave up.

  “Yes, we’re inside. Brenna’s restraining a suspect right now.”

  Not the murder suspect, but an attempted murder suspect, several times over. But what was going to happen to Ellison’s real killer? Ruth looked up at me with a tear-streaked face.

  “Yes, I’ll stay on the line.” Blythe lowered the phone and told us, “He’s on his way. Just Will, but he’s calling for backup. Don’t worry.” She sat down next to Ruth. “I’m sure you can explain everything. It was self-defense, right?”

  Ruth sniffed and nodded. “My friend Marta was Mayor Conway’s personal assistant. Marta left something to me when she passed. An envelope, packed with secrets, and topped with a note dripping with Marta’s guilt over keeping them for Nicole.”

  “Marta!” Nicole coughed out. “That nosy old snoop! I never told her anything. Everything would’ve been fine if she’d just left it alone.”

  I dug my knee into her side a little harder for that.

  “Don’t blame her for what you did! Things didn’t add up, and she was just trying to sort it out. That’s probably what killed her—keeping your secrets!” Ruth’s voice cracked with a sob.

  “Ellison and Nicole both tried to ‘persuade’ me to forget about what I knew. I refused. When I tried to leave, Nicole blocked my way. I’ve never been in a fight in all my life. We pushed and shoved and grabbed. I made it into the entryway, almost to the door. Ellison had been just standing there, staring at us, like he couldn’t believe what was happening. Then Nicole screamed, ‘Do something!’ He jumped in front of me and knocked me down. The coat rack fell over next to us, and a hairbrush fell out of one of the pockets. His hand was over my mouth. It was getting hard to breathe. I was desperate. I grabbed the brush and started hitting him. And then he collapsed. I threw the brush down and got out of there—and out of town—as fast as I could, before Nicole could stop me.”

  “Did you know about Ellison’s safe deposit box?” I said.

  “Ellison told me he’d already made copies of the files and put them on a thumb drive in his safe deposit box. I was hoping and praying that the police would uncover it during the investigation of his murder. I thought Nicole would end up being accused, and if the authorities found out what had happened, I would come forward and let them know she didn’t commit murder. But if they were corrupt too—I never thought you would end up accused! I assumed the brush was Nicole’s, that it had come from her coat.”

  “But it was Blythe’s, and that creep, Ellison, had taken it as a token,” I said.

  “I saw you on the news. I knew I had to come back and do something, but I wasn’t sure what or how. I thought if I gave you the information I had, you could help yourselves. But then I saw Nicole lurking around outside this house. She thought no one was watching when she let herself in. I don’t know if Ellison gave her the key or if she took it, but I knew I had to follow her and find out what she was up to. She must’ve been so focused on what she’d come here to find that she forgot to lock it behind her. And then I heard other voices in the house. I wasn’t sure who it was or what was going on, so I hid.”

  The front door banged against the wall, and Riggins burst through, weapon drawn. Calmly, efficiently, he surveyed the situation. Still, the surprise couldn’t help registering when he saw Miss Ruth in the room, and Mayor Conway pinned to the floor.

  “Is this the suspect?” Riggins nodded at Conway.

  “Of course not, Officer!” Conway blurted as she made another futile attempt to get out from underneath me. “Tell this brute to get off of me!”

  “She just tried to kill me! She shot at me,” I said, before Conway or anyone else could mention Ruth’s culpability. I wanted to make sure Conway was properly dealt with before we got into that.

  “I am head of law enforcement in this town,” the mayor reminded Riggins sharply. “I order you to release me and arrest these women!”

  Riggins ignored her and knelt to examine her weapon. “Recently fired,” he said. He checked her hands, then nodded at me. I relinquished my hold on Mayor Conway, and he soon had her handcuffed.

  “They’re lying! They’re all lying!” she screamed.

  “We’ll investigate this thoroughly, Mayor Conway, but for now I need you to have a seat on that chair. If you move, I’ll have to restrain you even further.”

  The mayor blanched at that threat, and she perched obediently on the upholstered chair positioned where the living room met the entryway.

  I stood up and stretched my tight muscles. “You have backup coming?” I said.

  “Tony and the Chief,” Riggins said.

  I nodded, relieved. Not Doyle.

  Ruth stepped forward. “Officer, Nicole Conway tried to kill Brenna just now, and she’s been embezzling money from Bonney Bay for the past five years, but I’m the one who—accidentally—killed Ellison Baxter.”

  Before the wide-eyed Riggins could say anything about that, Chief Sanders entered with Tony at his side. Riggins summarized the situation. Tony took a cooperative Miss Ruth away in his cruiser, the Chief took Mayor Conway, and Blythe and I made yet another trip to the station with Will Riggins.

  Riggins was quiet, tense, like he was still sorting everything out. After a minute, he shot an angry look in the rearview mirror at Blythe, then at me, in the passenger seat. “You two do realize you almost got yourselves killed?”

  Neither of us said a word. I could still hear that bullet whizzing by as I
tumbled down the stairs. Still see Miss Ruth showing up just in time to save the day.

  Finally, Riggins glanced at me again. His shoulders relaxed, and a little smile played on his lips, a little dimple dented his cheek.

  “What?” I said.

  “You’re really something, Brenna Battle.”

  In the backseat, Blythe giggled. “Yes, she is.”

  30

  Blythe sat behind the desk in the dojo, and I reclined on the mat nearby. The place looked great, if I do say so myself. We’d done a lot of work in the two days since the strange events in Ellison Baxter’s house. The ballerinas and the horrible green paint had been removed from the windows, the pink awnings replaced with bright blue. We’d drawn up our class schedule and were working on an ad to be posted in the Bonney Bay Blaster, which had been taken over by Helen Rolf, the librarian.

  Someone knocked on the glass. I propped myself up on my elbow and looked up, to see Riggins, in jogging gear, pushing the door open.

  “Hello, Blythe. Brenna.” He looked at me as I scrambled to my feet and slipped into the flip-flops I’d left at the matside. “I’m out for a jog, and I thought you might want to join me.”

  “She’s not cleared to jog yet!” Blythe warned. “She has to go two weeks without so much as a headache.”

  “Right. Concussion. How about a walk?” Riggins suggested.

  “Yes!” Blythe cried. She practically pushed me out the door.

  Wow, that was subtle. I fought back the heat in my cheeks and glanced down at my feet. It was just a walk. Flip-flops would do. Without meeting Riggins’s eyes, I said, “What’s going on?”

  The door jingled shut behind us. “Nothing new. Don’t worry. I just thought you should know how everything’s shaking out.”

  “What’s going to happen to Stacey? What was her role in all this?”

  “Stacey confessed to vandalizing your windows and leaving that threatening note, then planting the evidence in Eric’s house. She really thought one of you had committed the murder, and she wanted to make sure you paid for it.”