Murder Takes A Bow - A Betty Crawford Mystery (The Betty Crawford Mysteries)

by Marvin, Liz

  “Sure,” he said. “Let’s go get it now.”

  Betty turned away from her mother, ignoring her desperate expression.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, keeping her voice light.

  Outside, she and Andy saw the Jeep parked a few houses down at the same time.

  Andy growled and grabbed her arm. He shoved her into the truck before him just as the jeep’s driver got out of the car. A gun glinted in Andy’s hand.

  “Freeze!” yelled the policeman.

  CHAPTER 34

  Andy leapt into the truck just before a shot rang out. The sideview mirror, right where Jarvis had just been standing, shattered. In the distance, Betty could hear sirens approaching.

  “Shit!” Andy yelled, banging on the steering wheel. He put the truck in gear and glared at her. “Sit down and shut up,” he said, swinging the gun to press against her head, “or I go back in that house and hold your parents hostage after killing you here and now.”

  Betty did as she was told. The cold metal against her hair was more than enough incentive. He held onto the gun as he peeled away. Betty fastened her seatbelt. Safety first her mind quipped at her. Right. Because a seat belt made her so safe in this situation.

  Andy swerved down the street, heading away from the sirens. “You know, I don’t know how you know. I don’t know why you had to go and stick your nose were it don’t belong, but you know. Which is just too bad.” He shifted gears. “I didn’t want to kill you. I even lied to your face hoping you’d just keep your god damned nose out of it.” He glared at her.

  “Who the fuck are you? Nancy Drew?”

  Betty met his gaze squarely, but refused to say a word. Her eyes flicked to the gun in his hand.

  None of the other victims had been killed with a gun.

  At least her murder would be an original.

  “Why couldn’t you stay out of it?” Andy muttered, speeding around a corner. The seatbelt yanked tight against Betty’s chest, and she pushed her hand against the door to avoid slamming into it. The speedometer crept up to eighty.

  “Answer me!” Andy yelled. His hand tightened on the gun. The sirens drew closer.

  “Because Clarise is my best friend,” she said quietly. “And Lofton is my home. And you were out to ruin both.”

  Andy laughed. “Ruin Lofton?” he spat. “How can you ruin a place like this. Look at it!” He gestured towards the woods and houses streaming past them. “It’s a dump! It’s trash, where no one ever goes anywhere. There’s nothing to ruin!” Betty closed her eyes, trying to control her rage. She couldn’t start yelling at the murderer with the gun, she reminded herself. That would be very, very bad. “Jarvis was my best friend,” Andy continued. You can see how well that worked out.”

  “Yes,” Betty said suddenly, unable to keep her mouth shut any longer. “He was your best friend. And you killed him over what, a spat over the price of stolen lights?”

  “It wasn’t a spur of the moment thing,” Andy answered, staring at the road. His voice had gone eerily calm. As though he’d been waiting for her to ask. As if this was a question he at least knew the answer to. “I went there that morning knowing I’d kill him. He was asking for too much of a cut for the theater items. Said there was no way we’d be in business if he didn’t have access to the theater. He should get a bigger share of the profits. Couldn’t have that, could we?” Andy gave a humorless laugh. “I didn’t want to kill him, mind, but I didn’t have much of a choice.” He glanced over at her again. “It wasn’t my choice,” he repeated.

  Betty would have rolled her eyes, if she wasn’t still trying to stay alive. The blue lights in the side view mirror on her side were drawing nearer. She just had to avoid doing anything stupid. Well, more stupid.

  Of course killing had been his choice. He’d swung the lead pipe, not someone else. He was the murderer. Murder didn’t just happen.

  “Melody?” Betty asked. “Why her?”

  Andy pushed the gas pedal down further. “That was a shame,” he said. “That girl was a fine piece of tail.”

  Betty stayed silent. She needed to have all the facts to report back to Bill. She would be reporting back to Bill.

  “I think I wanted to kill her even less than Jarvis,” Andy said. “She and I had been… well… you know, for years. But she overheard me talking.”

  Betty tried to digest this news. She guessed now that Melody’s husband had reason to worrying about his pretty wife’s eyes straying after all. They had strayed. To Andy. That explained her reluctance to talk about what she knew, especially in front of Lawrence. If she’d been put on the stand, her entire affair would have been dragged though the Gossiping Grannies’ column.

  “I didn’t want to kill her,” Andy whispered. He was lost in his own mind now, though his driving hadn’t slowed at all. They were almost at the interstate.

  If they made it there, Betty knew that the chances of her getting out of this alive would be severely decreased. Higher speeds would mean higher likelihood of an accident. Not to mention that they could get off at any exit and never be found, especially if Bill couldn’t see them.

  The blue lights had disappeared from the mirror, and Lofton didn’t have the luxury of keeping a helicopter on call to help keep track of kidnap victims stupid enough to get in the car with murderers.

  Andy swore. Ahead, red lights were starting to flash at the railroad crossing.

  Andy pushed down on the gas pedal and made it through just before the wooden arms had completely lowered. A police car sped into view, only to get stuck behind them.

  The on ramp was approaching fast. Betty heard the roar of a speeding train and knew she had precious moments to save her own life. She had to get Andy to slow down long enough for the police car to make it across the tracks. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over, grabbing the hand with the gun. Andy was so focused on the road that he was entirely unprepared for her attack. She slammed his wrist hard against the steering wheel, causing the gun to drop from his grasp and onto the floor by his feet. She grappled with the wheel, trying to force the car over to the side of the road.

  It was a very brief struggle. Andy shoved her away with an elbow right below her ribs, shoving Betty back into her seat. Now, it hurt her to breathe, let alone move. But Betty was damned if she was going to die tonight.

  The sounds of the train disappeared.

  She switched tactics and shifted over so she could kick his feet off the pedals. She kicked off one of her shoes and shoved it under the gas pedal so that Andy couldn’t accelerate the car without first dislodging her footwear. She kicked the gun under his seat.

  Andy turned and hit her across the face. Betty’s vision went grey with pain for a moment before she lunged forward again. The truck started to slow. It swerved onto the dirt side of the road.

  Betty would not die here.

  She would not die here.

  The crack of a gunshot sounded. Before the noise had faded fully away, the windshield shattered. Andy’s head snapped back and he slumped forward. A red dot appeared on his forehead. Drops of blood began to seep out. His grip on the wheel went slack.

  Betty let go of the steering wheel and lunged towards the passenger door. She flung it open and threw herself out, rolling onto the roadside. As she rolled, she raised her arms to protect her head. Dirt and gravel scraped her skin, sending pain like fire through her system.

  When she stopped rolling, Betty looked up just in time to see the truck crash into a guard rail and catapult over it into a ditch. The crunching and crashing sounded for what seemed like hours, but was probably in fact mere seconds. With one final outburst and thud of complaint, the truck burst into flames.

  Betty stood to try and run to pull Andy from the wreckage before the sharp increase in pain all over her body brought her to her senses.

  Andy was dead before the truck crashed. There was nothing she could do now.

  The sirens of the police cruiser wailed. It pulled up right next to her in anothe
r spray of gravel. Bill leapt out of the car.

  “Betty!” He yelled, gripping her by the arms. She gasped in pain. “Are you okay? Where’s Andy? Betty?”

  But Betty couldn’t stop staring at the flames leaping from Andy’s truck.

  Andy may have killed Jarvis. He may have killed Melody. But he had just been murdered.

  CHAPTER 35

  The rest of the night passed as a blur to Betty. Bill took her statement, though it was pretty clear from the get go that she was in shock. He said he’d take another statement once she’d had a night to sleep. Then he took her to the hospital, where her parents were waiting.

  Betty watched her parents leap up from the chairs in the waiting room without really seeing them. Their yells sounded like they were coming from down a long tunnel. Mary was saying something about her being stupid and reckless, while her father just hugged her gingerly, as though she would break. It was a long moment before he pulled back to let the hospital workers do their work. Betty went through it all in a sort of haze. She only spoke to respond to direct questions, and refused to meet anyone’s eyes. She guessed she was in real shock this time, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She let her mind shut down. It was a relief to not have to sort through everything that was going on in her mind and emotions right now, and she’d take every bit of comfort she could get.

  When the doctors had declared her fit to go home, Betty left with her parents. She let them usher her into her bed, and promptly fell into an exhausted sleep. She simply couldn’t deal with being awake.

  In the morning, Bill came to visit. When he pulled into the driveway, Betty was sitting on the porch swing, nursing a cup of tea. Bill sat down next to her.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Betty shrugged, keeping her eyes on the tree in the front yard. Her thumb rubbed across one of the scratches on her hand.

  “Ow,” she said shortly before taking another sip of tea.

  “Well, that’s what you get when you get in the car with a murderer,” he pointed out.

  “He would have killed my parents,” Betty said, turning to face him.

  Bill nodded. “I know,” he said. “But I still get to call you ten kinds of stupid.”

  Betty gave a small smile and leant back into the swing and pushing it into motion. “I suppose you do,” she said. She switched topics. “Did you find him? Andy?”

  “Yes. You were right about him having a hole in his forehead, but I don’t think it was from a gun shot,” Bill said. “There was no place for a person to take a shot like that from along that road, and the truck was moving pretty erratically. It’s highly unlikely anyone could have made a shot that precise.”

  “I know what I saw,” Betty insisted. “He was killed by a bullet.”

  “We think the hole was caused by a piece of flying debris from when the truck crashed,” Bill said.

  “I know what I saw.”

  Bill sighed. He reached out took her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. He raised it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. Betty felt herself blush. What was that?

  “I know you do,” Bill said, dropping her hand and reaching out to pull her against him. Betty rested her head against his chest. “And I’ll make sure your statement is kept on file. But the case is closed. Andy was our murderer.”

  Of course Andy was the murderer, Betty thought. But, between the statements he’d made about not having a choice in killing either Jarvis or Melody, and the unmistakable sight of watching him get shot, Betty knew there was another killer on the loose.

  It looked like it was up to her to find out who it was.

  But, for now, Bill was a comfortable pillow. And the next thing she planned on trying to figure out was the fluttering in her stomach that had started when she felt his heartbeat close to her ear.

  THE END

  Betty and her friends will be back watch for “Dancing With Death”