Murder, Madness & Love (Detective Quaid Mysteries #1)

by Yolanda Renée

  She looked at Sarah as though she actually expected a conversation.

  “Don’t tell me, I really don’t care,” She laughed, as though recalling some private joke. “You know, between Joe, Jackson, Scott, and poor, sweet Emma, I knew everything there was to know about you, about the case, and all the players. You may not enjoy gossip, but the rest of the world does, and you—well, you’re the perfect subject.”

  She grinned, enjoying her memories.

  “We used to make bets on who’d get closest to guessing your next move. I won most of the time, but Gerry? He loved the game, loved fooling with Quaid. Forensics became his new hobby. Leaving nothing to build a case on was his passion. He couldn’t have you, not the way he wanted, and he was going to make sure no other man could either. I really miss him. Which is why my new goal is to see your precious detective decide to arrest you. I’ll bet you’re wondering how I’m going to do it. Are you, Sarah?”

  Karen circled the kitchen, but did not wait for an answer. “Evidence of your crime, of course, locked in your attic, just waiting to be found. When Mr. Law and Order sees it, he’ll have no choice but to believe in your guilt. I hope I’m there I’d love to see his reaction. In fact, once you’re gone, I’ll volunteer to pack up all your things, and low and behold what will I find. Yeah, it’ll happen. I can see it, be a part of it. Gosh, how delicious, how truly delicious! See, you’ll be dead, but the truth will still come out.”

  She sat down and finished her cup of cold coffee. She seemed to be daydreaming, putting the final touches of her plan together in her mind.

  “Where was I? Sorry, a little absent-minded this morning. Ecstasy, it’s a good buzz, but plays hell with the memory. I could give you some, but it’d probably turn you into superwoman, and I’ll end up picking myself up off the floor.” Karen laughed. “Oh, yeah, poor Gerry, he knew when he saw you with Chase and Quaid, you would never look in his direction. He gave up on the idea of trying to win you for himself and began planning your destruction. Gerry would’ve done anything for you, but you wouldn’t even give him the time of day. He respected you. Hell, the sap loved you. I miss the bastard. He was a good friend, and you must admit, we made a damn good team. He let me do most of the killing, except for Ginger and Patricia—we had to make sure our alibis didn’t match too closely.”

  Karen suddenly started doing squats, then a few shadow boxing moves. She did one final stretch and then shook her head as though shaking cobwebs loose. Karen took the bouquet of flowers off the counter and started pulling the petals off.

  “You know, the funniest thing about all of this, is poor Debra died first because she overheard a pretty incriminating discussion between Gerry and me at the bar. We were just in the planning stages, but Gerry feared her memory would do us in. We made sure we never went out in public again, unless someone else was with us. We had no idea that you and Scott had your first date there. Talk about luck! Then her stupid friend, Ginger, tried to blackmail Gerry. Bitch! Gerry took her out and framed the boyfriend. I don’t think his body will ever be found—bear food.”

  Sarah began heaving, but nothing came up.

  “Ah, what’s wrong? The knowledge that your crime caused the death of two more innocent people bothering you? You’re such a wimp—miss goody two shoes, god I hate you!” Karen threw her coffee cup against the wall. Sarah jumped, and Karen laughed.

  “You and Gerry, I thought Brandon … did the killing,” Sarah whispered in disbelief.

  “No, Sarah, you killed them, all of them, but especially Gerry, because if you hadn’t killed Michael, no one would’ve died. Poor Brandon—he killed no one, yet got all the blame. He took a few trips to Anchorage for Gerry. Gerry wanted him on camera, wanted evidence against him. You know, in the right place at the right time, but Brandon was a lush. A former drinking buddy of Gerry’s. We used him for a bottle of Jack and a warm bed. Hell, he screwed up that episode in Ester and got himself arrested. We were lucky you didn’t press charges; rehab, really Sarah. You’re such a sap. Brandon wasn’t an Iraq war vet, although he did have an ex-wife. She left the lush, but as far as I know he never wanted her back. He was married to the bottle and was barely sober enough catch his flights, but the killings–all me, we’ll mostly me! Just shows you how talented Gerry was, and how stupid your detective is. Poor, love sick Gerry, all he wanted was you, and, from what Joe said, he almost took you with him.”

  Karen seemed lost in her thoughts, and then suddenly jerked back to her story.

  “I’ll never forget the night Gerry shared his drunken attack on you. He actually felt bad for abusing you. He was convinced if he’d just waited until after Michael’s death, you would have fallen into his arms without any hesitation. Did you know the morning after Gerry attacked you, Michael showed up at his place to see if he was all right?” Karen poured herself another cup of coffee.

  “Gerry said, when he opened the door, he was sure Michael was there to kill him. Instead, Michael came into the apartment, saw the destruction, and felt sympathy for Gerry. I guess you put up one hell of a fight. He saw your underwear on the floor and picked them up. He thought they were Barbara’s, and when he noticed they were torn, he claimed he would’ve done the same thing. He said, if you ever left him, he’d destroy everything you left behind out of the same kind of rage and grief.”

  Sarah shook her head and said, “No, no, no.” Tears cascading down her face.

  “I’m not lying, why would I lie to you?” She was enjoying Sarah’s reaction. “Michael went into the kitchen and found the coffee you made the night before. Sludge, because Gerry never bothered to turn the coffee pot off. He just kept drinking Jack until he eventually passed out. Michael made a fresh pot of coffee, all the while telling Gerry no woman was really worth giving up his life for. He talked Gerry into going back to AA. Gerry hasn’t had a drop of alcohol since. Such a brave man.”

  Karen got a bottle of water from the fridge and popped two pills into her mouth. “Little hair of the dog, coming down is never fun. Funny, isn’t it? Michael picks your torn underwear off the floor of Gerry’s apartment and never even realizes they belong to you, or that his best friend ravaged you there the night before. I love this story. Gerry shared every detail.”

  Karen looked exultant; Sarah’s tearful responses were the perfect reaction.

  “When Gerry discovered you’d left town, he was gone. When you didn’t tell Michael or call the police, he was so gone on you. Head over heels in love, and he never looked back. He even married Diane to keep the police off your back. He knew you were guilty, but love can turn the smartest man in the world into a lovesick, murderous beast. Don’t you agree? When you moved to Alaska and left him behind, he never understood why. You made him president of your company and then just left town, left him. He thought, really thought, at least at first that you loved him. You broke the man’s heart. He called his plans For the Love of Sarah, but when he realized you would never love him the name changed to The Destruction of Sarah. You don’t believe me, do you? I’m telling the truth; he actually had planning boards with those titles. Honest to god, cross my heart and hope you die.” She laughed so loud the sound grated on Sarah’s nerves. “Gosh, this is fun.”

  “Gerry was smart, though. He planned each step, down to the tiniest detail, and he knew all about the forensics. Plans that covered almost every eventuality. His alias, he let me pick, Palmer King. Has a real classy ring. We wanted to honor Michael. You killed him, Sarah. You should’ve just shot the man in the heart when you left Seattle, because he was dead. Then, he came up with new plans to take all the blame, so I could start over, but his real goal was to spirit you out of the country. That’s why he went over the cliff—he couldn’t live without you.” Karen’s tone was thoughtful. She relayed the information as though amazed by the facts.

  “But his second biggest failure was the night he failed to kill your detective. He knew life was over for him. He thought he’d killed you. Took too much time trying to stop the blood flow.
That night was about Steven not you. He always figured he’d end up with you, if not in life, at least in death.” She beamed in triumph when Sarah dry heaved once more.

  “He knew he just had to wait for your special anniversary. He knew you’d be at that church. Reading you was the easiest thing about all this. Did you realize how predictable you were? You have to admire a man like that. He knew what he wanted. It’s such a shame he wanted you,” she said wistfully. “Don’t you get it?”

  Karen grabbed Sarah’s chin tightly forcing her head up.

  “Don’t you understand, you stupid fucking bitch?”

  Karen slapped her hard from the left.

  “Ouch, that smarts. But we want the bruising to be uniform, don’t we?” Karen said, shaking her hand to lessen the pain. She pulled out a chair and straddled it. She examined her art and spoke in a quieter, more thoughtful tone, “I wanted to see you suffer just the way I suffered.”

  She lifted Sarah’s head again.

  “I could’ve taken your life at any time, and anywhere, but I wanted you to know fear, pain, and loss. I wanted you to cry the way I did when my baby died. I wanted you to see your future fade away like fog on a sunny day.” She dropped her hands and stood again, her voice louder. “I wanted you to regret ever having been born. Somehow, your death will give me back my life. It’s simple, Sarah. Very, very simple!”

  Sarah fought for clarity as the world spun out of control, and the agony started to get the best of her. She worked hard to pull herself together, to push the pain aside, and to use her strength to fight, to live, because no matter what else happened, she was not going to let Karen or Gerry win. Karen had clearly lost her grip on reality, and Sarah knew the time was near. She had to be ready.

  When Karen tied her hands behind her, Sarah had tried her best to make them larger by curling her fingers and making the space between them as wide as possible. She’d fought Karen’s attempt to pull the rope tightly. She’d read in Houdini’s biography that he used the method to ensure he could easily loosen the ropes, and now she would have the chance to test his theory. Any minute, her hands would be free.

  Outside, the storm picked up in intensity. Sarah reeled, struggled to stay conscious. She did not want to disappear into a blackness she could not escape. Thunder and lightning exploded across the sky—an unusual sound for an unusual day.

  Sarah thought of Steven, how hard he tried to solve the case, how they all thought the case ended with Gerry and Brandon, but Karen, a woman they both trusted, someone who came and went with impunity, because no one, least of all Sarah, would have considered a woman capable of such brutality. Steven would not save her this time—she had to save herself.

  Sarah did not have to pretend to be the conquered victim; she looked the part. Her white, cotton gown was red with her blood, and she knew her face was battered, bruised, and swollen. She feared her ribs were broken, but no matter. She was not going to make Karen’s aspirations any easier. She kept her head lowered, and her eyes closed to feign unconsciousness, to keep Karen from realizing the truth—Sarah’s hands were free.

  Karen shook her by the shoulders. “Don’t go black now, Sarah. I need you awake. I’m not finished telling you about all my accomplishments. Of course, the biggest accomplishment was getting you to make me the CEO of Michael’s Foundation. What a shock. I had no idea you thought so highly of me.” Karen laughed so hard and so long, she had to wipe away tears. Then she began rambling again, her back to Sarah.

  Sarah exploded from the chair. She pushed Karen; picked up the chair she had been sitting on and swung, knocking Karen into the kitchen island. Karen caught herself, but Sarah ran outside. The rain fell in straight sheets. Even though thunder sounded overhead, Sarah ran for the safety of the trees. Her bare feet, her open wounds, and her lack of appropriate clothing all forgotten. She raced for sanctuary.

  Karen was quick, if not quicker, and Sarah could hear the rage in her voice as she gave chase. Run, just run. Sarah kept telling herself, but for some reason she did not listen to her best asset, her intuition. She kept looking back to assess what kind of lead she had, but she lost her lead when Karen tackled her again. Karen’s boots gave her the benefit, but Sarah’s spill in the mud gave her an advantage, too. Partially naked, and slippery with the rain and mud, she was now more able to fight.

  Sarah slipped free from Karen’s hold and now, instead of Karen sitting on her back, she was sitting atop Karen’s chest. She struck furiously at Karen’s face and landed several blows. Karen screamed, but Sarah took Karen’s head in her hands and pounded her skull into the ground. The softness of the wet ground did little damage, but Karen appeared to be losing consciousness, and Sarah took the opportunity to get up and run again.

  Karen grabbed Sarah’s ankle and pulled. Sarah landed hard. Karen had the letter opener in her hand, and she stabbed Sarah in the back, but Sarah kept kicking and clawing. Her hand located a branch, and twisting around she hit Karen on the side of the head. The blow knocked Karen senseless, and she let go of Sarah’s leg, and became still.

  Sarah ran, barely aware of where she was running. The mud, blood, and rain practically blinded her, but she did not look back this time and ran with good speed. On the knoll, she fell to the ground at the big oak tree, clutching the branch for safety. She prayed Karen was dead or unconscious; she could see most of the property around her, and watched the horizon for movement. Even though she was sure Karen was disabled, she did not want to lose her advantage. She just needed to catch her breath. Once she could breathe, she would run to the house, for the car keys, and real safety.

  While Sarah was fighting for her life, Steven and Terry pulled into the driveway of Cliff House, and saw Ted Grubber slumped over the steering wheel of his car. They both jumped out to investigate. Terry opened the door and recoiled at the sight. Ted was a big man, but with his throat slashed, he had died without a struggle, brutally and swiftly. They jumped back into the car and Terry spun the wheels when he tried to leave the rain-soaked ground too quickly.

  “Damn it, Steven, we’re too late. She’s probably in South America by now.”

  “Sarah couldn’t do this.”

  “You’re crazy, man. You saw the proof, and what about Ted back there? I suppose he cut his own throat? Wake up, Steven, or you’ll be marrying the bitch while she waits on death row. Is that where you want your children born? In prison? I know she’s beautiful, but quit thinking with your penis. Use your brain.”

  “Shut up, O’Conner. I tell you, you‘re wrong. It’s circumstantial, all of it. She’s the one in danger; put your foot on the gas!”

  Terry did, and, when they pulled up, Sarah’s red Mustang sat next to the house.

  “Well, Steven, she’s still here. Come on, we have an arrest to make.”

  They discovered the door locked, so Terry gave it a good kick, but the door didn’t budge. Steven drew his gun and shot the lock out. The door swung open. Terry drew his gun, but waited for Steven to lead the way. Steven hurried inside, and took off up the stairs to Sarah’s room. She was nowhere in sight, but he kept yelling her name. Terry followed him, and, in Sarah’s room, he picked something up off the floor.

  “Hey, Steve, look at this. A letter to Karen from Gerald Kessler. It’s dated the day he died.”

  “Well?” Steven demanded.

  “He says he wants Karen to know the truth. He knows Sarah killed Michael, because Michael wanted a divorce. He never turned her in, because he wanted her all to himself, but when he realized she didn’t want him, he lost all reason.”

  Steven took the letter from his hands. “No!”

  “See, I was right. Michael would have told his best friend if there was a problem in the marriage. We have our confirmation. She’s guilty as hell! Come on. Let’s find the bitch.”

  Steven grabbed his arm, desperately trying not to hit him. “Confirmation from a known murderer, really? You’re not looking at this objectively.”

  “And you’re impartial? The man who’
s been sleeping with her from day one. Don’t talk to me about objectivity! Hypocrite!” Terry ran back downstairs. Steven followed.

  In the kitchen, they immediately saw the broken chairs, the blood, and ropes. They followed the trail to the porch doors, which were wide open. The storm had washed away the trail, so Steven searched the property.

  “It’s obvious there’s been a struggle. Come on. She’s out there somewhere, and she’s going to kill Karen this time. Maybe we’re not too late!” Terry yelled.

  Steven ran along the path and, at the highest point, he searched the horizon for any sign of her. The evidence finally made sense. Karen was Gerry’s assistant. But during the investigation, Karen was simply a good friend to Sarah. She had put on an act that fooled everyone, even Joe. Oh, god, this is going to kill him!

  He hurried down the path, and from the top of the next rise, he saw Sarah curled up under the oak tree. He was not sure if she was dead or alive, she was too still, but he noticed movement in the high grass. Someone was approaching from behind.

  He yelled “Sarah!” but his voice did not carry over the storm. He hoped that it was Terry coming from the other direction, but he knew Terry couldn’t have made it that far in the short time they’d been running, Sarah was in danger. Hold on, Sarah, please hold on. You’ve come this far, give me just a few more minutes.

  Sarah sat up. Something had startled her. Thunder? She was soaked through, but surprisingly not cold. She had planned to rest a minute, but she must have fainted. She stood up with great effort—weak, and in severe pain from wounds she could not remember receiving. She surveyed the area, grabbed the branch for safety, and started the long walk back to the house.