Never Con a Corgi (Leigh Koslow Mystery Series)

by Edie Claire

  Cara repeated the unladylike term she'd used earlier. "Diana!" she raged. "She told that man something, something she knew would set him against you! Either that you had intentionally hidden Courtney from him, or that you had done something to hurt her, or that you and she—"

  Cara swore a little more. "Oh, Diana would think of that! And it would work, too!"

  Gil cleared his throat. "The bottom line is, if this man is pursuing me, I'm not going to take any chances about putting the rest of you in danger. So what I—"

  "What we're going to do is this," Sergeant Frances interrupted, meticulously adjusting her sleeves from three-quarters length to just above the elbow. Leigh and Lydie stepped back. The transformation was complete. "You and Cara are going to pack up your family's things and move into Lydie's house. Leigh, you and Warren will do the same and come to our house. This Courtney person evidently knows about the farm already, and she could return, which means she could lead this man here. But she has no connection with our houses in West View, and neither will he. It isn't overreacting," she stressed, looking at her daughter. "It's common sense. Now, let's everyone get moving. Chop, chop!"

  Gil's eyes pleaded with Cara's for understanding. "I called your mother because I thought it would be a good idea to get you and the kids away as soon as possible," he explained. "We have a top-notch security system here, and I could hire guards, but I would hate for the kids to go through that, to feel unsafe in their own home. And the fact is, a man like him would have no trouble figuring out where I live, even without Courtney to lead him. And if he wanted to make trouble—"

  "We'll go," Cara answered quickly. "But only if you come with us." She looked at Leigh. "And you guys, too. In this case, our houses are too close together for comfort."

  "Sure," came a deep voice behind Leigh. As familiar as it was, she still jumped a foot. But when Warren's arms came around her she leaned against his tall frame gratefully. "We can camp out in West View for a day or two, no problem. I've been looking for an excuse not to mow the lawn. And maybe, if we're good, Frances will make my favorite sausage casserole."

  Leigh's mother beamed.

  The men exchanged a look, and Leigh's teeth gritted. Once again, clearly, she had been the last one to get the memo.

  Her instinctive impulse to resist a mandatory evacuation order—purely on principle—flared up right on cue, but it was a pathetic little impulse, at best. Had she seen Courtney's mafia man outside her own office earlier? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, the mere possibility had scared the crap out of her. Having such a man in the same city as her children was bad enough—the thought of his coming to their home, with intent to harm, made her physically ill. Nobody messed with her babies.

  She imagined the Pack playing happily at Bess's, fussing over Chewie, trying to talk Bess into making her famous cinnamon chili dogs. All but Allison, whom she pictured looking wistfully into the woods, wishing they could all walk back to the pond again...

  "You start getting everyone's things together, and I'll meet you in West View," she told Warren, breaking away from the group and pulling her van keys from her pocket. "I'm going to fetch the Pack."

  ***

  Leigh pulled into Bess's driveway, hopped out of the van, and cringed as she looked beneath the vehicle, fearing she was bound to see something either leaking out, banged in, or hanging off. She had taken the private road a bit too fast and forgotten to dodge the potholes.

  She had other things on her mind.

  Seeing nothing obviously damaged, she straightened and headed for the house. She didn't plan to tell the Pack anything except that they were all having dinner in West View tonight. She would let their fathers explain the rest of it. Trusting herself not to seem frightened would be pushing it. Particularly with Allison's sharp brown eyes watching her every move...

  Coincidences that big don't just happen.

  Of course they did. Coincidences happened every day. No one else thought that Chewie's bone had anything to do with the murder of Brandon Lyle. She certainly didn't.

  Never mind that the mere thought of the Pack being out here, in the very place where Chewie had found that bone, bothered her so much that she had nearly taken out her transmission getting back to them.

  She was nervous about Courtney's criminal boyfriend threatening Gil. That was all. Wasn't that enough?

  Her hand punched Bess's doorbell.

  There was silence.

  Leigh took in a shaky breath and held it. She looked over her shoulder at Bess's car. It was parked in the garage, as always. There was no one outside. No shouting boys. No squealing girls. No dogs barking.

  "Bess?" she called, letting out the breath in a croak. There was no response. She put her hand on the door and turned the knob.

  A cat mewed at her plaintively as the door swung open. Many more cats looked up at her, with varying degrees of disinterest, as she stepped inside. Everything looked perfectly ordinary, perfectly in place. The television was on, but the sound was muted. There was not a soul in sight.

  "Ethan?" she called up the stairs. "Allison? Are you guys here?"

  Silence.

  Leigh pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed her Aunt Bess. They had to be around here some—

  From its position on the coffee table, her aunt's phone chimed "The Entertainer." Leigh swore out loud and hung up.

  She had to think. So Bess had left the house with the kids and both dogs, doors unlocked, television still on, no phone. Most likely, they had all gone on a walk. That's what they always did at Bess's, didn't they?

  A walk to the pond.

  Leigh shoved the idea from her mind. No. The kids knew they weren't allowed to do that now, and Bess would never let them. As much of a nut as Bess could be, she was a perfectly trustworthy babysitter. Maura had told them all to stay out of the area until further notice, and Bess would never go against a direct police order.

  Or would she?

  No. By herself, maybe. But not when she had the Pack.

  Leigh felt an unpleasant tightening in her chest. So where were they?

  She cast another glance around the living room, and the television screen caught her eye. It didn't look normal. The colors were flat; there was too little motion. She took a closer look.

  Her blood froze in her veins.

  She wasn't watching television. She was watching Bess's motion-activated camera at the pond. And some motion was happening right now.

  Dirt was flying. It was an odd angle; the source of the movement wasn't in the frame. But moist dirt was hitting the muddy bank of the pond, one clump at a time. As Leigh watched, the tip of a shovel came in and out of view, as someone—clearly a human—dug a hole just off camera.

  Her heart pounded in her chest. Bess and the children could not be out at the pond, digging. That was crazy. It was someone else.

  Who?

  Leigh leaned in closer to the monitor, wishing desperately to pan the camera, just a little. But it was no use. Whoever was wielding the shovel remained just out of sight.

  Digging what?

  Her heart beat faster.

  Coincidences that big don't just happen.

  Could Chewie have found the bone right there, beside the pond? Of course he could have. She and Bess had been busy talking and camouflaging the camera. They hadn't paid the least attention to him.

  She forced herself to take a breath. But Chewie had found an old bone. Old! What could old bones possibly have to do with Brandon Lyle? Or with some mobster from Chicago? The digger was most likely some random adventurer, goofing off with a new metal detector. It had nothing to do with her. The kids and Bess were nowhere near...

  Another shovelful of dirt hit the bank. In the midst of this one fell something else. Something firmer.

  Something shaped like another piece of bone.

  Leigh stomach heaved. It was true. She wasn't imagining it. She wasn't imagining any of it.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket again, her fingers trem
bling as she struggled to push the quick code that would connect her to the help she needed.

  The kids wouldn't go to the pond. They wouldn't. Not even Allison. Not even Bess.

  Unless they, too, had been standing here, watching the monitor, when suddenly the screen flickered on...

  "Koslow? What's up?"

  "Maura!" Leigh cried, holding the phone to her head with one hand even as she tore through the house and out the back door. "Send police to the pond! I can see someone on the monitor digging out there—and the kids and Bess are out there, too! There are bones buried there—it's real... Please hurry!"

  Maura said something back to her, but Leigh did not know what. At a casual walk, it took about ten minutes to reach the pond. She had no idea how long it would take at a run, or how far ahead of her the Pack might already be.

  She shoved her phone in her pocket and set off to find out.

  She didn't know whether to be silent or to scream. A thousand scenarios ran through her head, each requiring a different plan of action. If she called out, she might be able to stop the kids before they got there. But if they were already there, in the clutches of God only knew who, it would be safer for them all if she could approach undetected...

  Her ears strained for the sounds of children and dogs, feet thrashing through old leaves, carefree laughter, even cranky grade-school bickering... but there was nothing. The only sound was that of her own heavy breathing and the stomping of her feet as they pounded on bare ground, brush, and thorn bushes alike.

  She had to get there fast. She just had to.

  The pond drew nearer. There was still no sight nor sound of the Pack. Fearfully, Leigh slowed her steps. They must have reached the pond already. She could not explode onto the scene like a maniac, unarmed and completely helpless. She had to think.

  She stuck tight to the trail, careful now to step only on bare ground. Her lungs were struggling for air, but she tried her best to keep her breathing quiet. The pounding of her heart, she could do nothing about.

  Silence. It was so brutally silent. If the Pack, Bess, and both dogs were at the pond ahead of her, surely they would be making some sounds. Unless...

  Stop that!

  Leigh crept forward as rapidly as she dared. One more twist of the trail ahead, and the pond's banks would be in view.

  The police would be here soon. Maura would send the nearest unit, no matter where she herself happened to be. Leigh had only to stall the person somehow—and that she was determined to do. Whomever she was about to encounter had almost certainly murdered before... were they not digging up an unmarked grave mere yards from where another man was shot to death just days ago?

  Coincidences that big don't just happen.

  The thought struck her like a blow. Brandon Lyle hadn't been just any businessman, had he? He had been the one, very determined man who on the day he died had informed an entire churchful of people that he fully intended, by fair means or foul, to bulldoze the very ground in which those rotting bones lay secretly buried...

  Of course. She should have fit the pieces together before, not been so deceived by her preconceptions. Maura had been halfway there, but the detective hadn't known what her Aunt Bess knew...

  Leigh blinked back furiously at tears that squeezed out the corners of her eyes. Allison. The girl had less information than any of them, yet she had been able to intuit so much more.

  Leigh reached the bend of the trail, and the foliage thinned. She stopped herself awkwardly, her chest heaving for breath, her body thrown off balance. Her eyes roved the banks of the pond.

  A figure stood before her. One figure alone, holding a shovel. One slim, petite figure who would almost certainly appear harmless, were it not for the presence of the handgun that lay ready on the ground by her side, within inches of her right hand.

  Leigh's eyes widened. Her heart stopped. But it was too late to be quiet. The figure had already seen her.

  The woman's eyes looked squarely into Leigh's. Her head gave a nod.

  It was Anna Krull.

  Chapter 27

  "Stay there," the woman said without expression. "Don't come any closer."

  Leigh shook her head. There was no risk of that. Her eyes surveyed all that she could see around the pond, and her heart leapt as she realized that they were alone.

  "I was looking for the kids," Leigh said, her voice sounding like gravel.

  "They're not here," came the response. Anna's affect was flat; her face utterly without expression. She lifted the shovel high and thrust it down in the hole like a spear. The head caught in the mud; the handle stuck straight up.

  "Damn tractor," she muttered. "Stupid bones stayed put for fifty years. What moron thought they could drive a tractor on the bank of a pond after a solid day of rain? Look at those ruts! Broke everything to bits, churned it up. Not so you could see any of it, but your pup wasn't fooled." She rested her arm on the shovel's handle and sighed. "I'm sorry you're here. I thought your little search team had quit for the day. I could have waited until after dark, but I figured bringing a light out here would be even more foolish." She glanced back down at the hole. "Oh well. What's done is done."

  Satisfied that the children were nowhere near, Leigh weighed her risk in turning tail and running. But before she could act, Anna reached down and swooped up the handgun. Leigh swallowed. She had seen before how spryly the older woman could move, but the scene before her was still surreal. Leigh was standing in the middle of a beautiful woods, in late afternoon on a hot summer's day, with a white-haired woman in her mid seventies who weighed less than a hundred pounds. A part of her refused to be afraid—told her it was all ridiculous. But another part knew better.

  To Leigh's surprise, Anna chuckled. "I know what you're thinking, young lady," she said wryly. "You're thinking that a little slip of a thing like me couldn't possibly hurt anybody. And I wouldn't, of course. Not ordinarily. But desperate situations call for desperate measures."

  Leigh's already overstressed brain attempted math. Fifty years ago, Anna Krull would only have been in her twenties. "I'm sure it was self defense," Leigh offered weakly. "Or an accident?"

  Anna smiled. "How charitable of you, dear. But I'm afraid not. The bastard had it coming, simple as that."

  "Your husband?" Leigh croaked.

  Anna smirked. "He wishes he'd got to Brazil. He did succeed in cleaning out our joint account, and there were other women. But sadly, his plans to travel met a bit of a snag."

  Leigh's blood ran cold as Anna stroked the muzzle of the handgun lovingly with her mud splashed, bony fingers.

  "I got some of my money back," Anna continued, her voice proud. "Eventually. Had to pay a passel of lawyers to find it and then wait seven years until he was declared legally dead, but it was worth it."

  Leigh had a fleeting image of a sun-tanned model on a South American beach. "The postcard?"

  Anna chuckled. "Nice touch, don't you think? Coming up with a good story is one thing, but it's the juicy details that keep tongues wagging."

  The faintest of human sounds drifted through the trees. It was far away, but to Leigh's ear it sounded like the high-pitched squeal of a young girl.

  Lenna. No, no, no! Where were the police?

  "You can just leave it," Leigh said, running her mouth as she tried to think. "No one will know whose body it is."

  Anna's lips twisted. "Now, that's foolish. It's my property. I have a husband I hated who went missing fifty years ago. It's the teeth that give it away, as I understand. So I thought, if I couldn't dig up the whole thing, maybe I could find his skull." She reached out with her left hand and rotated the shovel in the hole a bit. "But it's a moot point now."

  "No, it's not," Leigh insisted. She strained her ears, but heard nothing further. "You could make up some explanation. No one's going to put a woman your age in jail!"

  Anna frowned. "You know, people are stupid that way. That's what made this so damned easy in the first place. Oliver knew how well I could shoot
; he just didn't think I had the guts. And that idiot"—she tossed her head carelessly toward a spot farther along the bank—"was no more scared of me than he would have been a toddler in a tutu. Ridiculous."

  Leigh's stomach took another heave. Brandon. This harmless little old lady had killed Brandon, too.

  "Came to my house that night, threatening me!" Anna bellowed. "I would have gone on to bed and left him banging all night, if he hadn't started in about eminent domain." Her voice dropped. "I'd heard that term before. I know what happens. Damned government comes in and takes your land, and you don't have a say. All to build some fool shopping center or some other fool thing. Well, that wasn't happening to me. I wasn't going to prison for putting Oliver out of my misery and I sure as hell wasn't going into any old folks home after that SOB bulldozed my life away for pennies on the dollar!"

  Anna fiddled with the gun and flipped something. Leigh didn't know squat about guns, and didn't want to, but she had heard of a safety and she figured the development wasn't good.

  "No one thinks a woman my age is capable of defending herself," Anna continued, watching Leigh steadily. "If a man had told that Lyle idiot that he was afraid to let him in the house, but would be happy to meet him up at a church—never mind that it was night and no one was even there—do you think Lyle would have bought such a fool story?"

  Leigh assumed the question was rhetorical. Another sound—the shout of a young boy—made her heart leap up into her throat. No, Ethan. Don't come any closer!

  Anna huffed out a breath. "Hell, no. But when a hysterical little old lady tells him that, he thinks he's getting everything he wants. Even when that little old lady doesn't drive up to the church at all, but calls to him from a dark woods and tells him to follow her flashlight!"

  Anna shook her head. "Cocksure, that's what he was. I told him then that I'd rather die than sell—but he didn't believe me. He didn't believe I'd rather kill him than sell, either. Not even when he saw my thirty-eight! I don't believe he thought I knew what to do with it. Well, he found out otherwise. Funny he should fall so near where I carted Oliver. But then, there's a certain justice to that. They were both handsome, charming scum."