“Okay, okay. Speaking of DNA, anything?”
“Another misconception. DNA results don’t come back from the lab in TV time, only real time. Like a week or two. They have to be sent to Riverhead.”
“You’ve made your point. But would you tell me if you did get results pointing to anyone?”
“Now you’re pushing it, Ms. Barrett.”
“Why is finding his phone important? He lost it the day before Roland Cahill was murdered.”
“I have a feeling whatever is on it will shed an unfavorable light on our Mr. Holden.” She took a piece of gum out of her mouth and tossed it in the shrubbery. “Barb tells me that I smack my gum too loud, what do you think?”
“I never noticed.” Not true. But my mother always taught me that sometimes a white lie isn’t really a lie, especially if an unimportant truth would hurt someone’s feelings. “You’re right, though, the guy’s no Bill Murray.”
Morgana stopped on the gravel drive, looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Is that a reference to the movie Ghostbusters?”
“Yes. I’m just sayin’, he’s no paranormal investigator. He doesn’t even know any of the lingo or equipment names.” I told her about my meeting with Mac Zagan. “And get this, Frank drives a silver Lexus, probably the car that Jenna saw in the fog when she thought her husband was trying to run her off the road.”
“She what! I know nothing about this. Are you withholding key information to protect your friend?”
“Morgana, you have to trust me. I know Jenna didn’t kill Roland.”
But did I?
I braced myself for a good talking-to; instead, Morgana grabbed my wrist and pulled me to her. “Stop!” she whispered.
“What the heck?”
“Shush. Look.” She pointed in the direction of Shepherds Cottage.
Sure enough, a light glowed in the cottage’s northern window. It wasn’t coming from a moving flashlight like last time. It was from the electrified oil lamp I’d placed on the bedside table for the showhouse tour.
“Let’s go,” I said, moving toward the path.
“No. I’ll check out the cottage, you go search the area where you saw Mr. Holden on Friday.”
“I already did that.”
“There’s a lot of bushes and underbrush. Here, wear my headlamp.”
She handed me a high-powered flashlight attached to a headband. “So, basically, I should be crawling on my hands and knees back here, while you check out the cottage without backup?”
“Exactly.”
“Don’t you want me to lead you through the maze? I did good last time.”
“I’m not going through any maze. I’m walking straight toward the cottage with my gun drawn. Now scoot!” she said in a low growl.
“But what if while you’re over there Roland’s killer gets me. Safety in numbers, remember?”
“With your track record, I’m not worried about you. More about them!”
“Well said.” I wasn’t really being a ninny or a whiner, I just wanted to be around when she caught whoever it was. What was in Shepherds Cottage that was so important? Again, Frank was the only one who had ties to Jenna’s grandfather, who had lived in the cottage before his death. Maybe Jenna’s not-quite-right-in-the-head grandpa had told Frank’s father about the link to Captain Kidd and the cottage. Maybe Frank’s father had been shot by Thomas Eastman not as a trespasser but as a possible thief? All these thoughts funneled through my brain as I turned to go back toward the gate.
“Should I call for backup?” I said over my shoulder.
“No. You aren’t supposed to be here. Remember?”
“Got it. Be safe.”
“I’ve got this. Stay where I told you.”
“Text me.”
“Meg, let it go.” She did look pretty formidable holding her Glock in front of her as she advanced toward the cottage. I waited until she disappeared into the dusk.
Instead of checking inside the property for Frank’s phone, this time I went back out the gate and checked the area outside the fencing.
The night was warmer than it had been in days. Stars twinkled and a crescent moon looked like one from a child’s fairy-tale book. To the west, there was still a thin strip of pink sky, giving hope that our gloomy weather pattern had moved away for good and tomorrow would be fog-free.
I didn’t turn on the headlamp until I was on my knees about five hundred feet from where I’d helped Frank get his arm unstuck. Luckily, no gardeners had come since Friday. The rhododendrons and hydrangeas were spaced evenly in front of the wrought iron fencing. Most of the big estates in the Hamptons had tall privet bushes blocking views from the road. Jenna felt differently, she’d wanted whoever was passing by to get a glimpse of Stanford White’s renovated masterpiece.
Five minutes later I hadn’t found anything but a 1957 copper penny and was about to give up. I was also worried about Morgana. She hadn’t texted me as promised. Nor had she returned to her car. I stood up and glanced toward Shepherds Cottage. What was that? A figure passed in front of the bedroom window, and it wasn’t someone dressed in an East Hampton Town Police uniform.
Something akin to a premonition told me to abandon my search and instead go seek out Officer Moss. Not that I believed in premonitions. I just knew what living, breathing humans were capable of. I took a step toward the gate, then changed my mind. It would only take a second to check one other place. Instead of searching for the phone where I’d freed Frank’s arm, I got back down on my hands and knees and crawled toward where I’d seen the ghosthunter van parked. Voilà! The headlamp’s beam caught the shine of a cell phone’s glass screen. I scooped it up, stood, then bolted toward the gate. I aimed my remote and watched the gates slowly open. When there was just enough room for me to pass through, I sprinted toward the cottage.
Now that my mission was complete, I needed to help Officer Moss with hers.
I wasn’t worried about the crunching of my sneakers on the stone and shell path because as I got closer to the cottage, I saw that the door was flung wide open. Weak light spilled onto the small porch. I tiptoed inside, whispering, “Officer Moss? Are you here?” then more fervently, “Morgana! Where the heck are you!”
The cottage was empty, still a mess from the carnage on the night of the cocktail-party-that-wasn’t.
Defeated, I looked around for a weapon. I grabbed a weighty copper bed warmer attached to a long wooden stick and went back outside.
I checked the gazebo. No Morgana. I scurried to the pavilion, my breath raspy and labored as I ran. When I reached the steps, I noticed that the yellow crime scene tape had been broken, its ends flapping on the ocean breeze, more terrifying than if it was intact. I shined the headlamp around the interior before bolting to the railing. Holding my breath and saying a prayer, I directed my light onto the rocks below.
Thankfully, nothing.
The only place left to check was Enderly Hall. I walked toward the house, turning my head left and right, scanning the terrain for any clue to Morgana’s whereabouts. When I reached one of the entrances (or exits) to the boxwood maze, I stepped inside, holding the bed warmer in front of me like a sword. For all I knew, Morgana could be lost inside—like Jenna had been when she was a child—or worse.
Morgana wasn’t in the maze. I made my way out the exit closest to Enderly Hall.
There, on Enderly’s back veranda, I saw a dark figure dressed the same as me, in a black hoodie, pants and sneakers. The person was crouched over Morgana’s unmoving body. She was laying on her side with her back to me. I punched in 9-1-1 on my phone and whispered our location.
Adrenaline and anger took over. I turned off the headlamp and crept toward them, holding tight to long handle of the bed warmer. The hooded figure held something in his right hand. As I got closer, I saw it was a pair of eighteenth-century iron sheep shears that I’d left as a prop on top of a basket of shorn wool inside Shepherds Cottage.
I stepped cautiously. When I was fifty feet away, I hea
rd a male voice saying something to Morgana. He had no clue I was behind him.
Morgana wasn’t moving. I charged forward, brandishing the bed warmer. I brought it down full force on top of the man’s head. Whack! He fell facefirst to the veranda floor, flopping like a fish out of water, jerking his arms and legs like he was having a seizure—which hopefully he was. Even in his flailing, he held tight to the shears. I waited a few seconds in case I had to deliver another blow. Finally, he lay still.
Putting the bed warmer out of reach, I pried the shears from his hand. They weighed at least fifteen pounds. Then I bent next to Morgana and took her pulse. Thank God, she had one. Crowning from the back of her head was a large bump the size of an egg, a goose egg. Her hair was matted with blood. “You son of a bitch!” I cursed as I took off my hoodie and made a pillow for under the left side of her head. Her eyelids fluttered.
“Help’s on the way, Morgana. Hold tight. I won’t leave you.”
Holding back tears, I turned back to her assailant, worried that Roland Cahill’s murderer might rise like a phoenix for one last assault like in every horror movie I’d ever watched.
He lay still. The sound of sirens came closer. I knew I should wait for them. Instead, I went back to Morgana and took her gun from her holster. It felt strange in my hand. I’d never used a gun before. It wasn’t one of those things on my bucket list. But I’d be sure to use it if I had to. I released the safety and moved next to the man. Just by the shape of his body, I thought I knew who it was.
With the gun in one hand, I used the other to push him over.
It was no surprise that I was looking down at Frank Holden.
He smelled of pipe tobacco and sweat.
“I’ll take that gun, Ms. Barrett,” a deep voice said from behind. Chief Pell stepped onto the porch, his grim features illuminated under the porchlight.
“Gladly,” I answered, handing him the gun. “Where’s EMS?”
“They’re right behind me.”
A pair of attendants carrying a gurney scurried up the porch steps, lowered it, then rolled Morgana’s limp body onto it. They each took an end and went down the steps. When they reached the shell and gravel walkway, they extended the gurney’s wheels.
As they pulled away, I shouted, “I’m going with her!”
“You’re not going anywhere, Ms. Barrett,” Chief Pell commanded. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
I went up to him, nose to chest. My knees were shaking, but not from Pell. More from worry about Morgana. “Don’t you want to handcuff Mr. Holden? Look, I think he’s moving.” I pointed to him.
When the chief looked over at Frank’s still body, I took off after the stretcher.
Chapter 27
“Well, I guess it’s no big deal that Vicki took off, seeing we have Frank Holden in custody.”
“We?” Morgana said from her hospital bed. “I suppose I can give you that one, owing to the fact you saved my life. But you’re still in a lot of hot water with Chief Pell for leaving the scene. You didn’t have to ride with me in the ambulance. But I’m glad you were here when I opened my eyes.”
“Does that mean you’re so grateful that you can share what Frank Holden said when he was interrogated? What his motive might have been for killing Roland, trashing Shepherds Cottage and stuffing monopoly money in the polar bear’s mouth?”
“I can only tell you that he did confess to the last two things. But he claims he didn’t murder Mr. Cahill.”
“Are you pressing charges for what he did to you?”
“You betcha! Attempted manslaughter. If it wasn’t for you, he’d probably be up on murder charges.” She winced and moved her hand to the back of her bandaged head. “The lump seems to be going down, but they want to keep me for another night,” she said. “I’m ready to go now. I want to be there for the press conference.”
“Doctors know best. Listen to them. Thank God Frank only used the handles of the shears to wallop you, he could have used the blades. If that had been the case, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now. Do you have any idea what he was looking for in Shepherds Cottage?”
“Kind of. Please hand me my tablet,” she said, pointing to it on top of the nightstand.
I passed it to her and asked, “Can I get you anything else? Water?”
“I’d kill for a Diet Coke and a cigarette, but I suppose a piece of gum inside that drawer over there would do.”
After I gave her the stick of gum, she said, “Shut the door. Make sure you’re out of view of the window. I’ll let you read the transcript from Mr. Holden’s interview. He had a public defender with him, but I’m sure the guy will get a top lawyer soon. We’ve looked into his bank accounts, he has almost a million in savings and CDs.”
“Jenna told me that after her grandfather shot Frank’s father as a trespasser, he paid a million in settlement money.”
Morgana typed in her password, then handed me her tablet.
“Thanks for sharing,” I said with a smile. “Wow, I’ve never been handed police files legally before. I usually find other means. This is so much easier.”
“I think you’ve earned it. I just don’t know if anyone else will feel the same way if they find out. Especially Chief Pell. I think we’re both in the doghouse. He wasn’t even listening when I sang your praises last night. Quick thinking with that bed pan. He was slightly appeased when you turned over Mr. Holden’s phone.”
“Bed warmer,” I corrected.
“I think the chief’s threatened by you. However, when this does go to press in a couple of hours, we need to give him full credit for capturing Frank Holden. It will make both our lives easier.”
“You’re okay with that? I wouldn’t be. This is your first big case.”
“I am. I shouldn’t have brought you along. It could have been you at the end of those prehistoric sheep shears.”
“I don’t think Pell’s got it out for me. It has more to do with Elle’s fiancé and the fact the chief hasn’t solved one Hamptons homicide in the last couple of years, while Detective Shoner has been front and center for the last five.”
“Along with you right next to him,” Morgana said, chomping her gum. “Owie, chewing hurts my head.”
“So, stop chewing.”
“Are you going to read the transcript or not?”
I got up, locked the door and pulled my chair against the wall. After making sure I was out of sight of anyone looking through the window in the door, I sat back down and started reading. In Frank Holden’s quasi-confession, he admitted to breaking into Shepherds Cottage looking for a yellow diamond that his father had told him about, which Jenna’s grandfather had claimed came from Captain Kidd’s treasure on Gardiners Island. Frank’s father befriended Jenna’s grandfather, who at the time was out of his mind. Then slowly, over the course of a year, Frank’s father pilfered small items from the main house: sterling, small statues, and even a few pieces of Jenna’s grandmother’s jewelry. But when Grandpa Eastman claimed that somewhere he’d misplaced an uncut yellow diamond, Frank’s father made it his life’s mission, or in this case, his death’s mission, to find it.
In the interrogation, Frank said he had no idea why Jenna’s grandfather shot his father. Maybe he wasn’t so crazy after all and found out that Frank’s father had been stealing. Frank went on to say that when he heard about the showhouse, he planned revenge against Jenna for the sins of her grandfather. He wanted to scare her away so he could continue the search for Kidd’s yellow diamond. That’s why he’d signed up as a paranormal investigator, so he’d have access to the estate. He was the one that scared Jenna with his car, claiming he never came close to hitting her. He also confessed to stuffing Monopoly money in the bear’s mouth as another scare tactic. But he was adamant about not killing Roland.
“You’re right he claims not to have killed Roland,” I said.
“Well, what else is he going to say?” Morgana said. “We don’t have forensic evidence tying him to the murder, but I’
ll make sure to be there when the judge sets bail.”
“I don’t blame you. I just don’t understand why he would kill Roland. If this was a revenge plot, wouldn’t he go after Jenna, not Roland?”
“Maybe Mr. Cahill caught Mr. Holden snooping around. It doesn’t matter, we have enough to keep him for a while. You should be relieved. Your friend Jenna is off the hook. Especially after you let it slip that she thought her husband was trying to kill her, giving her a motive to kill him.” Morgana yawned.
“I think you need your rest. I’ll come back later. Need anything before I go?”
“I would like a sip of that ice water from that pitcher over there. All these painkillers give me cottonmouth, and maybe you can fluff a few pillows behind my back.”
“Of course.”
I served her the water, adjusted the pillows, then dragged my chair closer to her bed. I handed back her tablet in the nick of time because the door opened. Thankfully, it was a nurse who walked in, not the chief. “You need anything, Officer Moss?” the nurse asked.
“No. We’re good. Thanks, Nurse Marie.”
Nurse Marie winked at me. “We like to keep our officers well taken care of. Just like they take care of us. Lunch should be here in a half hour, I noticed you didn’t fill out your preference card.”
“Surprise me,” Morgana said.
“Will do,” Nurse Marie answered.
When the nurse turned her back, Morgana grabbed her throat and mimicked she was having the gag reflex. I stifled a laugh. The nurse took Morgana’s temperature, checked her fluids in the IV bags, and said, “Don’t overdo it. You have a nasty bump on the back of your head, and you look quite pale. It might be from your low iron and vitamin D levels. You have to eat your spinach, take vitamin D, or even better, get twenty minutes of sun every day.”
We all looked out the window that overlooked a forest of pines. All we saw was a milky opaqueness. Yes, this morning the fog and chilly temps had returned. Thankfully, last evening had been clear or I might not have found Morgana in time.
Nurse Marie added, “And every morning, have a bowl of Total cereal. It’s rich in iron.” She refluffed the pillows behind Morgana’s back. Doing a better job than I did, she tucked her blankets tightly under the mattress and said, “I’ll be back with lunch in a half hour.”
A Design to Die For Page 18