by Rachel Grant
“Was the researcher named Angela Caruthers?”
“How on earth did you know that?”
“Actually, it’s her research I’m following up on. I would love the address.”
She stopped long enough to jot down the Richland, Washington address. After disconnecting, she dialed Eastern Washington information for the number. A Simms still lived at that address. She called the number and an answering machine picked up. An elderly female voice spoke very carefully, “You have reached the Simms residence…”
Her heart beat loudly as adrenaline flooded her system. She was on the right track. She could feel it. She left a message.
She’d promised Mark she’d keep him updated and dialed his work number, and then hesitated. Throughout the day, her feelings for him had bounced between gut-wrenching pain and euphoric hope. Maybe they could work things out. But could she trust him to stand by her, or was he like her father?
She both regretted responding to his kiss and savored the memory. She screwed up her courage and hit the call button. She was relieved when her call went straight to voicemail. She left a message and continued walking to the Montgomery house.
James greeted her warmly when he answered the door. He led her to the sitting room and went to find Earl. She walked to the shelf where Earl displayed his artifact collection. An empty space where the Elko-Eared point had been made her wonder what Laura had done with the tool. Had the artifact found its way to Eli’s crime scene in hopes of implicating her further?
Her excitement at having located Nathan Simms and her mixed feelings for Mark had distracted her, and for a moment she’d forgotten the danger she was in. She couldn’t let that happen again while she was in this house, with these people. Especially because Alex hadn’t arrived yet.
“Looking for another artifact to add to your collection?” Earl said as he entered the room.
“Archaeologists don’t collect artifacts. We aren’t thieves—like pothunters.” She instantly regretted her words. This had to be the worst start to an interview, ever. Regardless, she didn’t want to miss a word of their conversation and held up her tape recorder and hit the record button. “Can I tape this?”
“Go ahead. Then you can have it on record that I didn’t steal any of those artifacts. Those were all collected from my own land or with the landowner’s permission.”
“Most of these points are from Eastern Washington. You have property there?”
“We have a fishing cabin on a large property in Pasco. After rainstorms, I like to hike around to see what artifacts have washed to the surface.”
She studied several diagnostic points. “These points are datable. You could use them to estimate the age of the site on your land. This point base in particular,” she said. She lifted a caramel-colored CCS point base from the tray. “The ears are a distinctive style popular about two thousand years ago. Too bad you don’t have the rest of the point.”
“That one was broken when I found it. Cattle probably.”
Grazing cattle often stepped on artifacts and broke them. Of course, cattle graze on federal land—it wasn’t likely they were grazing on his property—and the federal government didn’t give permission to artifact collectors. She smiled at his gaffe. “That point isn’t a style you find very often east of the Cascades. You should fill out a site form for your property. Finding a point like this out there is exciting—you could have an example of trade goods.”
He looked distraught for a moment. “I think I found it on land we sold nearly twenty years ago. Besides, I don’t want any site form filled out. Then there would be all sorts of restrictions on the property.”
She flipped the point in her hand. Something about it seemed familiar. “Whether a form is on file or not, knowingly destroying an archaeological site is illegal.”
Earl glared at her. “I know that. I just don’t want the state getting involved with my property.”
She set the point base back on the shelf. She still hadn’t found out anything useful but she’d managed to thoroughly antagonize him. Was she a good interviewer or what?
“Alex, one of my employees, will be joining us, but he’s running late so we may as well get started.” She sat on the couch and placed the tape recorder on the coffee table. She wasn’t going to get anything useful about Coho anyway. She decided to bring up the subject that really interested her. “It must be quite a shock, to have your niece found after all these years.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything.
She needed to get him to talk. “Do you think finding Angela will help Jason with closure?”
“Jason will only get closure if his no-good father ends up in jail.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“Are you a moron? The man killed my niece. Yet you ask why I want him punished?”
“You think Jack killed Angela?”
“Everybody thinks Jack killed Angela.”
“Everybody isn’t always right.”
“You’d better hope everybody can be wrong with the trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.” His grin was pure malice.
Libby shivered. Earl moved to the top of her suspect list.
Her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. Eastern Washington area code. During a normal interview, she’d never answer her cell phone, but she already needed a break from Earl, and this was the call she’d been waiting for. “I’m sorry, Mr. Montgomery. I really need to take this call.” She stood.
“Stay here,” he said and left the room.
She sat and answered the phone, craning her neck to make certain he wouldn’t hear the conversation. She watched him climb the stairs on the other side of the vestibule.
“Hello, Ms. Maitland. This is Enid Simms. I just got your message.” The elderly voice sounded kind. One thing Libby had discovered over the years, people loved to talk about their past. They liked feeling as if their experience was important.
“Thank you for returning my call.”
“My pleasure, dear. I understand you’re interested in finding out about my late husband, and the union in Coho?”
“Yes, I am. I wasn’t aware your husband had passed away.” Disappointment filled Libby; he was her only viable lead.
“Oh yes, my Nathan died in 1972.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Simms had died before Angela found the will; maybe Enid was the key. “Were you married to him when he lived in Coho?”
“Oh no, I was in my teens then. I didn’t marry Nathan until 1952, when I was twenty-one.”
“That must’ve been quite an age difference between you and your husband; wasn’t he about thirty when the union formed?”
“Yes, he was fifteen years older than me. He worried about that—that I’d be all alone in my old age. Turned out he was right, but I was widowed much earlier than I should have been. I’m only seventy-one and I’ve already been a widow for thirty years!”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“I had twenty good years with my Nathan. For that I’m grateful.”
Libby smiled. Definitely a glass half-full sort of woman. After dealing with the harshness of Earl Montgomery, Enid Simms was a relief.
Remembering where she was, Libby said, “I hate to say this, but unfortunately, I can’t take the time to interview you right now. Can I call you back later, say, in an hour or so?”
“Certainly, dear, I’ll be home the rest of the day. I love having a chance to talk about my Nathan. I just hope you’ll call me back—not like the last person who interviewed me about Nathan and the union.”
Libby jolted. “Was this recent?”
“No, no dear. It was a long time ago. Sometime in the seventies.”
She caught her breath. Enid was referring to Angela. And Angela hadn’t contacted her again. “Pardon me, Ms. Simms, but was the person who interviewed you named Angela Caruthers?”
“That’s it! Such a lovely girl, do you know her?”
“I’m following up on her res
earch.” Libby glanced again at the doorway through which Earl disappeared. She kept her voice low.
“She came to my house,” Enid said. “We had tea and went through Nathan’s papers. She was very excited by something she found and wanted to take the papers with her, but I couldn’t let her. So we agreed she would come back in a few days and we’d go make copies together.”
Surprised that she could speak at all, Libby attempted to maintain an even voice. “Ms. Simms, this is very important. Do you remember when Angela came to your house?”
Enid was silent for a moment. “Let’s see.” Libby could hear her tapping the phone. “It was sunny. We sat out on the veranda after she carried the boxes down from the attic. No, I’m afraid I can’t pinpoint the date.”
“How about the year?” Her knuckles gripped the phone until her fingers ached.
“I’m pretty sure Carter was president. Oh yes, I remember. The summer of the second gas shortage. I remember asking her how she could afford to drive all the way to Richland, with gas prices so high. She said she didn’t mind the cost. She was just glad the gas lines had disappeared and she didn’t have to wait for hours to fill up. What year would that be, dear?”
Libby closed her eyes, remembering the headlines on the random newspapers she’d found in Angela’s boxes. “Seventy-nine,” she answered, her throat dry. “Do you remember why you didn’t make copies that day?”
“Hmmm. There was something—she wanted another witness when she opened the envelope—I think it was something like that.”
“Why didn’t she come back the next day?”
“Oh! I remember! She wanted to surprise her son. He just had a birthday, and was with his father in Moscow or Spokane—someplace near the state line. She decided because she was already in Richland, she’d surprise them. She said she would stop in again on her way back a few days later. But she never returned.”
That didn’t sound good for Jack’s alibi. It was possible Angela had gone to see him and he’d killed her. But somehow she still didn’t believe Jack killed his wife. “Ms. Simms, I need you to do me a really, really important favor. I want you to call this number.” She pulled out Mark’s business card with his personal cell phone number written on the back. “Do you have a pen?”
“Yes, dear.”
She gave the number and added, “Tell Mark Colby—he’s the police chief of Coho—everything you’ve just told me. I have bad news about Angela. She was murdered in 1979. It’s possible you were the last person to see her alive. Will you please call him?”
“Oh my, yes.”
“One more thing, Ms. Simms. Do you know where Angela was headed that night after she left your house? Was she going straight to Spokane or staying somewhere else?”
After a lengthy silence, Enid Simms finally spoke. “It was so long ago. I can’t be sure, but I seem to remember something about a family cabin in Pasco.”
Enid’s words fit with what Libby believed. Jack was in the clear. Earl was the most likely suspect. “You had a lot of Mount St. Helens ash out there in the Tri-Cities, didn’t you?” she asked.
“The ash was a few inches deep in some places. It looked like we had a big snowstorm.”
Libby heard a noise and looked up. Earl stood in the doorway. “When you call Mark Colby, tell him I’m 10-34.” She disconnected and then dialed 9-1-1.
Earl raised a gun and aimed it at her head. “Drop the phone.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
MARK PACED THE INVESTIGATION ROOM. “Okay,” he said to Sara and Luke. “According to the 1979 investigation, Earl was at the family cabin in Pasco when Angela disappeared. Laura was in Seattle. James and Lyle were here in Coho. Let’s suppose Earl is our killer because he was in Eastern Washington, which was covered in St. Helens ash.”
“So now we need to place Angela in Pasco,” Sara said.
“Placing Angela in Pasco doesn’t clear Jack,” Luke said. “He still claims she called him and said she was in Coho. She could have called him from the Pasco cabin, then he could have driven down and killed her.”
“But Earl was in Pasco,” Sara said. “Jack couldn’t have killed her if she was with Earl.”
“We follow all leads, but will start with Earl,” Mark said. “I want phone records for the cabin for that night.”
Mark’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway.
“Mr. Colby? My name is Enid Simms. I was just speaking with Libby Maitland, and she asked me to call you and tell you about a conversation we just had. She said that Angela Caruthers, that lovely young woman, was murdered. Such a shame. And that I might be the last person to have seen her alive.”
The woman had his full attention. “I am very interested in what you have to say, Ms. Simms. Please, tell me, when did you see Ms. Caruthers?”
“SO YOU FOUND THE WILL,” Earl stated. “Is it in Pasco? I tore the cabin apart looking for it. She couldn’t have hidden it there.”
Libby didn’t take her eyes off Earl or his gun. “It’s not in Pasco.” She could feel her purse with her foot. The pistol was there. If only she could get it. She didn’t dare look down.
“I heard everything. Sound travels well through the vent.” He pointed to a grill in the wall above her head. “I know you were talking to a Ms. Simms. I remember the name Simms. A union leader. She must be his wife. So my mother gave the will to the union leader.”
Libby didn’t respond. Her feet were hidden from his view behind the coffee table and a large vase of flowers. With her foot, she slowly inched her purse closer.
“Now all I have to do is find Simms to find the will.” He picked up her cell phone. “Caller ID is so useful.”
Libby leaned toward her purse.
“Stay exactly where you are.”
“You won’t get away with killing me.” Libby could feel adrenaline pulsing through her. Every sound, every sensation, every moment was magnified. “Ms. Simms is calling Mark right now.”
“Ms. Simms is a crazy old woman who’s gonna break her hip and die very soon. She called the chief at your request. Everyone knows you’re crazy. You’re going to fake another attempt on your life, but something’s going to go tragically wrong. This time, you’ll die.”
“Mark knows everything—about the will, about the stalking. He’s on to you.”
“Oh, sure. Even if you were stupid enough to go running to the chief when you learned about the will, he would never believe you. No one in this town would believe you if you said the sky was blue.”
“He believes me,” she said, fear, anger, and adrenaline mixing together.
“I’m sure you were a nice piece of ass. But he’s not going to risk his career over you. Soon you’ll be indicted for the Banks murder.”
She couldn’t get to her gun. She had to stall for time to give Enid a chance to relay her message to Mark or for Alex to arrive. And maybe, just maybe, James was innocent. Maybe he’d come to her rescue. “Exactly how did you set me up for that?” she said.
“You haven’t noticed? We took your hairbrush and your knife the night you were attacked.”
“We?” she asked, losing hope.
“James and I.”
Disappointment hit her with a sharp jab. Stay focused. Her purse was open and she could see the handle of the gun. Keep him talking. “Who killed your mother? Was it Lyle?”
“Of course,” he answered, as if it were of no consequence. “Who cares? The bitch deserved to die. She was giving my mill away.”
“But the mill was never yours. You only rubber-stamped your daddy’s decisions.”
Her cell phone rang. He ignored it. She had to get a reaction out of him, to distract him. “When did you first realize your father killed your mother?”
“The day she died,” he said. “He came home smelling like gasoline. He’d run her off the road, then doused her car with fuel and lit a match. He delighted in telling me that. I washed his clothes for him.”
She felt sick
ened a twelve-year-old could so blithely cover up his mother’s murder. “Why did you kill Eli?”
“He couldn’t keep his story straight and he wanted more money.”
Libby glanced down to the tape recorder. The wheels were turning. Mark would come. He’d be too late to save her, but he’d have his evidence against Earl.
“You’ve been very clever. Your plan to frame me was flawless. How did you know about Aaron Brady?”
“James offered to check your references for Jack. We’d hoped to find an incompetent archaeologist for the dig, but you were even better. You had past financial troubles and a cop who supposedly stalked you. That was when James got the idea to stalk you and make you look crazy.”
“Did you and James plan to attack and frame me from the beginning?”
“No. With your credibility problems the first few ‘stalking’ incidents should have been enough to discredit you. Who’d have guessed Mark Colby would fall for you?”
“So you escalated the stalking. You know, Aaron called me. He also called Mark. How did you get him involved?”
Earl laughed. “You got Colby to investigate him again. I bet that pissed him off. Guess he came gunning for you. Couldn’t have planned that better myself.”
“How did you manage to start the rumor I was in financial trouble?”
“James did that. Based on your past trouble with Brady, he knew you’d be vulnerable. We floated the idea that you wanted to get out of the project. The reporter ran with it.”
“Was Laura involved? Is that why she said I stole the artifact?”
“Laura knew about the will and about Angela. She had to help me get rid of Angela’s car. But we didn’t think we could trust her to keep her story straight with you. She said you stole the artifact only because you pissed her off.”
“What about Jason? Was he part of this?”
“Jason doesn’t know shit. He’d probably try to give the mill away, just like his bitch of a mother.”
“Then how did his arms get scratched?”