by Susie Gayle
“So that would mean…” I don’t get to finish my thought as, through the window, I hear a car pull into the driveway. “I have to go, Georgia. Thanks for your help.”
CHAPTER 15
* * *
I head downstairs, once again hoping it’s Sarah and once again being disappointed. Melinda and Max come through the door, the latter with a few plastic bags of takeout food.
“I hope you all like Thai,” he says as he makes his way to the kitchen. “How’s Lindsay doing?”
“She’s doing okay,” I tell him. I turn to Melinda and say, “You left your phone behind. The police called about your stolen necklace while you were out.”
“Where’s Sarah? I need to speak with her,” she says by way of reply.
“She had to… run out for a bit.”
Melinda frowns at me and mouths a word, but I don’t pick it up.
“What?”
She rolls her eyes in exasperation. Max puts the food on the counter and starts taking containers out. “Let’s see what we have here…”
Melinda taps me on the shoulder and points to her right wrist. I shrug at her. If she’s trying to tell me something, I have no idea what it is.
“Would you like to talk in private?” I ask her.
She scowls at me venomously, like she wants to smack me. Max turns toward us and she quickly smiles.
“I was just telling Melinda how much I appreciate your help in this difficult time,” he says. “I think that after we eat, Lindsay and I will get going. I’ll bring her back to my house until she feels ready to go home.”
“There’s no rush,” I assure him.
He turns toward the food again, his back to us. Melinda smacks me on the shoulder, points to Max, and then points to her own wrist.
I shrug again. Why can’t she just say what she’s trying to tell me?
Frustrated, she marches to the dining room and snatches her cell phone from the table, angrily punching keys. A moment later, my own phone chimes. I check it.
God, you are dense. What does my daughter see in you?
Now that’s just uncalled for.
Another text comes through: Look at his right wrist, you idiot.
I sigh. “Max, do you need some help with that?” I ask, approaching the counter.
“I think I’m okay here, thanks Will. But where do you keep the forks?”
I take a look at his right wrist.
My breath catches in my throat.
There, on the right wrist of his suit jacket, are two pearls stitched onto the fabric.
“Will, did you hear me? Forks?”
“Oh, uh… here, let me get them.” I reach across him and open a drawer on the other side—just to get a look at the left sleeve.
There are three pearls.
He smiles. “I could have gotten that, but thanks.”
It was Max.
I don’t know how, but he got into my store and he killed his nephew. It’s his pearl that I have in my pocket. He probably hasn’t yet noticed that it fell off.
I turn to Melinda, whose face is ashen. She must have noticed while he was driving, while his arms were aloft on the steering wheel.
“You know, I think I’m going to use the little boys’ room real quick before we eat. This way, right?”
“Uh, that’s right,” I tell Max. “Actually, why don’t you use the one upstairs? It’s top of the steps, to the left.”
“Sure.” I figure sending him upstairs will give us an extra minute or so.
As soon as he’s gone, Melinda lets out a long, loose, jagged breath. “Oh my god, Will! It’s him! He killed his own nephew!”
“Shh!” I say harshly. “Not so loud! Let’s think about this.”
“What’s to think about?” she hisses. “Call the police!”
“I can’t.”
“Why on earth not?!”
“Because I took that pearl from the crime scene. Not only did I mess with evidence, but you and Sarah and Lindsay all know about it. Just the fact that I’m investigating this at all could spell a lot of trouble.”
Melinda throws up her hands in exasperation. “Then what are we supposed to do? Sit down and eat Thai food with him?”
“Just let me think for a second.” Max filed the beneficiary agreement two days ago, but since neither Adam nor Lindsay signed it, chances are good they never even saw it. That means that Strauss is probably right; it’s likely that the Barkers had no idea their collection was that valuable. Max, on the other hand, knew. If he killed Adam, everything would go to Lindsay. But…
“Melinda, we can’t let him leave here with Lindsay.”
“You want us to keep the murderer around?” she asks incredulously.
“If he leaves with her, he’s going to kill her.”
She lets out another jagged breath. “I don’t think I can handle this.”
“Yes you can, because I’m going to need your help.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because he likes you. You’re our best bet to keep him around until I can figure what we can do.” I hear Max’s footfalls coming down the stairs. “After everything that’s been said and done between us, I think you owe me this one. Do whatever you can to get him to stay.”
Melinda scowls at me deeper than she’s ever scowled before. It instantly becomes a smile when Max rounds the corner.
“There you are!” she says brightly. “How about I set the table, and we’ll all sit together and eat?” I guess that split-second change of personalities that she’s honed has finally come in handy.
“That sounds wonderful.” Max returns her smile.
“I’ll get Dennis and Lindsay,” I offer. I head to the living room and tell the two of them, “Hey, Max is back and food is here.”
“Not hungry,” Lindsay murmurs.
“Me neither,” Dennis agrees.
“All the same, you should try to eat something.”
“Not hungry,” Lindsay says again.
My teeth nearly gritted, I say, “Fine, then I would appreciate if you would at least join us in the dining room.” Kids these days.
I head to the den and close the door almost the whole way and try to ring Sarah again. Frustratingly, it goes to voicemail again too. “Sarah, I really, really hate to do this over a message, but… I was wrong. It wasn’t your mom; it was Max. If we let him leave here, he’s going to try to kill Lindsay. I don’t know what to do and I could really use your help. Please come home as soon as you can.”
I hang up, sigh, turn, and nearly jump out of my skin. Lindsay stands in the doorway, staring at me.
“Jeez! You really need to stop doing that.”
“Let him try,” she says softly.
“Say what?”
“If that’s the best way to catch him, then let him try. Give him an opportunity.”
“Lindsay, there’s no way I’m going to put you at risk like that.”
“You’re not putting me at risk. I’m putting myself at risk. Let him try, and catch him in the act.”
I shake my head.
“Is there another way?” she asks.
“Not one that doesn’t potentially involve me going to jail as well.”
“Alright then.” She turns and walks toward the dining room without another word on the matter.
“I guess I need to come up with a plan,” I mutter to no one.
CHAPTER 16
* * *
At dinner, we try to act as normal as possible—all except for Lindsay, who’s pretty far from normal at the moment. I find that I also have almost no appetite, but I force myself to eat anyway, as not to arouse suspicion.
About five minutes into our meal Sarah comes home, smiling brightly as she enters the dining room. “Sorry everyone!” she announces. “I just had to run a few errands. Smells delicious in here!” She takes a seat next to me and serves herself a plate. I try to catch her gaze for some indication that she got my vo
icemail, but she gives me none.
“Well, Sarah,” Max speaks up, “I was just telling your family here that after we finish eating, I think Lindsay and I are going to head home. You’ve all been more than hospitable, but I believe we’ve worn out our welcome.”
“Nonsense,” Sarah says, waving a hand in the air. “We’re happy to have you.”
“Even so, there will be a lot to attend to after today’s… unfortunate incident,” he says somberly.
“Because you have to alter that beneficiary agreement, right?” I say loudly.
Max blinks at me a couple of times. “Yes. That’s correct.”
“Oh,” Lindsay says softly. “I didn’t know you finished.”
“Well, yes, I did,” he tells her. “I was going to tell you and Adam about it today, in fact, but—”
“How much did it come out to?” she asks, cutting him off.
“Um…” He smiles and pats Lindsay’s hand. “I think that maybe we should table that discussion for later. It’s been a trying day.”
“I’d like to see it,” Lindsay tells him.
“And you will, as soon as I’ve rewritten it to accommodate—”
“Tomorrow,” she says abruptly. “Morning.”
I understand what she’s doing; she’s forcing Max’s hand by demanding to see the agreement, making it all the more likely he’ll act out of desperation.
“You know, Max,” Melinda says, “I bet you’re a scotch guy.”
“Why yes, as a matter of fact I am.”
“If I’m not mistaken, I believe Will has a bottle of something around here. Perhaps when we’re finished, you’d be interested in a nightcap?” Melinda is obviously grasping at straws here; not only do I not keep liquor in the house, I can’t stand the taste of scotch.
“As much as I’d love to, I do have to drive tonight,” Max says with a smile. “Perhaps I can take a rain check on a drink with you, though?”
“Sounds great.” Melinda smiles, and then frowns as she turns toward me.
“Excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” Dennis announces, rising from his chair.
***
About fifteen minutes and at least five more attempts to get Max and Lindsay to stay later, they head out the front door, the former insisting again and again that they really must go and thanking us profusely for our hospitality.
“Well, best of luck with everything,” I tell him as I shake his hand.
I close the door behind them and the four of us—me, Sarah, Melinda and Dennis—stand stock-still in the foyer and wait.
About twenty seconds later, there’s a knock on the door. I open it to find Max and Lindsay there.
“Back so soon?” I joke.
“It’s the darnedest thing,” Max tells me, “but my front tire is completely flat.” At dinner, when Dennis excused himself to go to the bathroom, he actually went outside and let all the air out of the tire on Max’s car (at my request). “I don’t have a spare.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” I tell him, hoping I sound genuine.
“I hate to impose again, but… perhaps one of you could drive us home?”
“Or you could just stay the night,” Sarah suggests.
Max frowns. “But Bridgeton is only twenty minutes away.”
“Even so,” I shrug, “it’s late, you know…”
“It’s seven-thirty.” He sighs. “I was really hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”
“Sorry?” I ask.
“But you people just keep pushing.” Max reaches into his suit jacket, not noticing the missing the pearl on the right sleeve, and pulls out a small revolver. “You couldn’t have made it more obvious that you’re trying to get me to stay.” He motions down the hall with the gun. “Come on. Everyone into the kitchen.”
Melinda gasps and puts both hands over her mouth. Dennis’s eyes widen in shock. Lindsay’s demeanor doesn’t change, unsurprisingly.
“Let’s go.” He marches us all into the kitchen and then demands, “Phones out and on the countertop, please.” We do as we’re told. “So, how did you figure me out?”
Very carefully and very slowly I reach into my pocket, pull out the pearl, and place it on the countertop. Max glances at his sleeve and shakes his head.
“Ah. I see. Well, I’m glad you picked that up instead of the police, or I’d be in a very different situation.” He chuckles a little. “Now let’s talk. You all seem like nice, reasonable people, so hear me out. My brother’s collection,” he turns to Lindsay, “and it was my brother’s collection—is valued at a pretty impressive amount.”
“Two-point-three million,” I mutter.
Max arches his eyebrows. “I’m impressed. Friends in high places, Will?”
“Exactly. And they’ll know this was you.”
“Oh, I don’t want to kill any of you. Except her, naturally. No, no—I want to buy your silence. A hundred grand each, cash, and none of this ever happened.”
“It’s not about the money,” Sarah murmurs.
“It’s always about the money,” Max counters.
“It’s usually about the money,” I correct him.
“You’re making my head hurt.” He closes his eyes and sighs. “That’s my offer. If anyone doesn’t want to take it, we’ll get into Will’s car and we’ll drive somewhere nice and quiet.”
“We would have shared,” Lindsay says softly. “You know we didn’t care about all that.”
“You didn’t even know what you had!” Max exclaims. “Neither did your father, or your mother. They had a ‘collection.’ Big deal. I spent months of my own free time cataloging every item and having it appraised. The out-of-pocket expenses I’ve incurred are ridiculous!”
“Like I said, we would’ve been very generous. It was never about money with us. Not me; especially not Adam.”
“Well, that makes you both as foolhardy as your parents were.”
“How?” I ask him. “How’d you pull it off?”
He shrugs. “It wasn’t that hard. As the only family they have left, we talk. They told me about the opportunity you gave them at your pet shop, and I kept a watchful eye for my chance, even a slim one—which is exactly what I got. I slipped in, locked you out, did what I needed, and got out.”
“So you weren’t coming from Bridgeton at all. You were nearby the whole time.”
“That’s right.” He raises the gun so that the barrel is pointed at the ceiling. “So, any takers? A hundred grand. Or are we all going for a nice drive?”
No one speaks.
“Okay then. Everyone into the garage.” He ushers the five of us out to my car, taking a position in the center backseat. “You drive, Will. I’ll direct you where to go.”
My heart racing, I start to back out of the garage. Without a phone, none of us can call or text anyone. I could try to drive somewhere else, ignore his instructions, but the guy does have a gun, and he did murder his own nephew, so I don’t want to find out what he’s capable of.
Turns out I don’t have to worry for long, because two police cruisers with their lights flashing and sirens blaring suddenly speed up out of nowhere and block the end of our driveway.
CHAPTER 17
* * *
Things got a little bit tense there, but Max Barker gave up without a fight. Sarah did indeed get my voicemail, and in her infinite wisdom gave Patty Mayhew a call before she headed back home, and told her that Max shouldn’t be allowed to leave our house with Lindsay in tow. The police had been waiting less than a block away for about a half an hour before we made our exit through the garage.
Patty Mayhew cuffs Max and stows him in the back of a cruiser before she takes statements from each of us. When it’s my turn, she doesn’t even bother asking any questions, except one.
She shakes her head at me and asks, “What am I going to do with you, Will?”
“I know, I know. This is only the umpteenth time I got involved in something you tol
d me not to. And I’m certain there’s going to come a day when it’s going to bite me in the rear.”
She chuckles a little. “Well, it’s not today. I’ll see you around, Will.”
I have to admit, I breathe a pretty big sigh of relief. She doesn’t ask about the pearl or how I found out about the beneficiary agreement or anything else. Maybe that’s where our relationship is headed; I do what I’m going to do and it’s probably better that she doesn’t know how I did it.
Officer Tom drives Max down to the police station, but Patty hangs around for just a bit longer—specifically to talk to Melinda. She reaches into a pouch on her police belt (utility belt? Whatever they call that) and pulls out a string of pearls.
“I believe these are yours,” she says, handing them over.
“My goodness,” Melinda gushes. “How did you find them?”
“You were right. That store clerk did steal them from you. The idiot was caught on security camera.”
I wince. I’ve got a big, big “I told you so” coming my way, and from more than one person, I’m sure.
Once Patty is gone, Sarah puts her arm around Lindsay’s shoulders. “What do you want to do?” she asks.
“Honestly?” And much to my surprise, Lindsay laughs a little. Granted it’s a very, very light laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “Can I stay here tonight?”
***
Melinda spends two more days with us, and I have to admit—they’re tolerable days. She’s not overly sweet towards me, but she’s not condescending or spiteful either. We’re almost amiable, I’d say.
On the morning before she leaves with Sarah to head to the train station, she corners me alone in the kitchen.
“Will,” she says, “I don’t like you much.”
“Good morning to you too.”
“I don’t like you, and I don’t like this town. I especially don’t like that you suspected me of killing someone. But… I understand what Sarah sees in you. I get why Dennis likes you. And ultimately, you did come through—with a lot of my help, of course—for that poor girl. So I suppose we can be… friendly.”