by Louise Clark
"Probably because that's how he saw them."
Christy sighed. "So what now?"
"I believe the cause of Brittany's death is here, in Peiling's program. I'm not sure what it is yet, or how the details fit, but my gut tells me it's all tied together."
"Grad students, the professor, the donors, the steering committee. That's a lot of details."
Quinn squeezed her waist. She turned her head to look up at him and he smiled. "Guess we'd better get started."
Chapter 20
"Mrs. Jamieson."
The school door was still swinging closed behind her when Christy heard her name called. She identified the voice as coming from the parking lot and turned in that direction. She saw that Detective Patterson was striding toward her. Behind her, Christy saw the detective's familiar, unmarked car. Even as she wondered why the cop would seek her out at her daughter's school, she was straightening cautiously.
"Detective," she said as Patterson neared. "Is there an emergency of some kind?"
"No." Patterson hesitated, then said, "Is there somewhere we could talk? A café, for instance?"
Christy could have invited her to the townhouse and offered coffee, but she wasn't feeling particularly sympathetic toward the detective since Ellen's arrest. "This is a residential area. The closest coffee shop is over at the mall. We'd have to drive there."
Patterson raised her brows. Her car was in the lot nearby. Driving to the local mall wouldn't be a problem.
But Christy didn't want to get into Patterson's vehicle and drive anywhere with her. Patterson was dressed in her usual slacks, a sweater, and leather jacket, so she didn't officially look like a cop, but Christy knew what she was, and what her car represented. She would never willingly climb into Patterson's car, not here, near Noelle's school with all those potentially watching eyes. Not even at her townhouse, where there might be more watching eyes.
Nor did she want to hustle home, get her own car and follow the detective to a destination. She was upset about Ellen's arrest, and the stresses it had put on her and her family. The fears it had roused. The danger it embodied. She didn't intend to make anything easy for Detective Patterson.
She tilted her head, indicating the wooded area behind the school with a gesture. "There's a walking trail just over there. It's quiet and pretty much unused at this time of day. Would that be private enough for you?"
Patterson gazed at her for a moment, then she nodded. "Lead the way."
In this section of the path, trees grew thickly on either side of the trail. Salmonberry bushes edged it, growing profusely. At this time of year their raspberry-like fruits, a soft peach in color, were gone, but a few weeks ago the bushes had been loaded with berries and after school one day Noelle and Mary Petrofsky had come on a giggle-filled harvesting trip. This was her turf and here she felt ready to deal with whatever Patterson sent her way.
The detective waited until the trees surrounded them and the school was well behind before she told Christy why she'd sought her out. "Aaron DeBolt is being released today." Patterson stared straight ahead as she made the statement. Her expression was unreadable.
Christy's stomach knotted and her breathing hitched. "This can't be," she said, even as she accepted it was true. Ever since she'd heard about Brittany's alibi she'd known that it was only a matter of time before Aaron was freed.
Still...
"My God. He helped kill my husband! You can't just let him go!"
"He has an alibi for the night in question, Mrs. Jamieson." Patterson's voice was even. Her expression was still blank.
Christy rarely swore. Her upbringing and her years in the spotlight as the wife of the Jamieson heir had made her careful about her choice of words. But this was different. Outrage gripped her. Anger tripped off her tongue. "That's bullshit! Brittany was lying. Aaron lured Frank into that alley and then pushed him into the car that drove him to his death. Aaron is guilty as sin. Damn it, the judge wouldn't even grant him bail! And now he's going free?"
They walked on in silence. Christy struggled with her temper. Patterson gave her time to regain control.
Eventually the detective said, "For what it's worth—and right now that's not much—my gut tells me that you're right. Aaron DeBolt was an accessory in your husband's death. I haven't been able to shake the alibi Day gave him, though, and that's why I have to turn him loose."
Christy pursed her lips and stared anywhere except at Patterson. Ahead of her a chickadee danced in the thicket of low growing salmonberry. She recognized the bird's familiar call. Chickadees were abundant in the area and she heard their song every day. Usually she found the sound soothing. Now she was too upset to notice.
She couldn't think of anything to say to Patterson that wasn't ripe with frustration and anger. She got the picture. Brittany Day claimed Aaron had been with her on the night Frank was murdered. Brittany had also been murdered, and the person the police suspected had committed the crime was Ellen Jamieson, Frank's aunt. Why would Ellen kill Brittany? To keep her from testifying and to negate that damned alibi.
"Do you have any hard evidence I can use to prove that the alibi is false?" Patterson asked after a few minutes of silent walking.
Christy shook her head. "Quinn and I have been digging into her background, but we've found nothing that you could use in court." They'd been focused on finding other suspects to use in Ellen's defense, though, not disproving the alibi Brittany had given Aaron. Maybe it was time to change priorities.
Patterson shrugged. "Then there's nothing I can do."
"What would happen if I could prove that Brittany was lying?"
"It would have to be pretty good proof," Patterson said sharply. "Day swore an affidavit before she died and she's no longer here to defend herself. Evidence that she'd lied would have to be rock solid."
"And if it was?"
"Then I'd re-arrest Aaron DeBolt."
Christy nodded. "Okay. Thanks for the heads-up."
The purpose of the meeting achieved, they turned and headed back the way they came.
"With Aaron's release you need to stay away from the DeBolt family, Mrs. Jamieson. It doesn't look good, particularly now that your aunt has been granted bail. Nathan DeBolt is tight with a lot of powerful people and he knows how to manipulate the media. He won't hesitate to go after you, your friends, and your family if he thinks you are a danger to his son or his reputation."
Christy appreciated the warning, but the DeBolts' power and their wielding of it wasn't new to her. "Ellen won't be staying with me once she's released. Now that her condo is no longer an active crime scene, she's going to be going back there."
Patterson looked surprised. "She suggested that? Not something I would have expected of the woman."
"She's not going to like it, but I can't let her stay. I don't have the option. She has to go."
"Why?"
"Not because I think she's a cold-blooded killer. I don't. But the child care worker assigned to Noelle's case was horrified that Noelle might be residing in the same house with someone accused of murder. She all but told me she'd take Noelle away from me if I let Ellen stay. If I have to choose between my daughter and Ellen, my daughter wins hands-down."
They were almost at the parking lot as Patterson nodded. There was compassion in her eyes and a certain amount of frustration as well. "I understand. Please contact me if you find out anything new that might relate to the case, Mrs. Jamieson."
"Sure." A fine fall drizzle started as Christy watched the detective stride to her car.
Great. Now not only did she have to deal with the uneasy guilt that nagged at her conscience because she was banishing Ellen back to a crime scene, but she was walking home and she'd be soaked by the time she arrived.
She shoved her hands in her pockets, hunched her shoulders and started moving.
* * *
By the afternoon, Christy's bleak mood hadn't softened. On her way over to the school to pick up Noelle, she shut her front door with a sn
ap and slid the key into the lock. Then, behind her, she heard the purr of an expensive engine as a car neared.
Uh-oh. Here comes trouble, Frank's voice said in her mind.
"What kind of trouble?" she asked, looking down at the cat to see he was staring intently at the car coming down the road. His tail swished back and forth, a cat clue that he was angry and prepared for anything. She threw the lock as quickly as she was able, then turned around to see for herself.
Frank was right. This was trouble with a capital T.
The car, a sleek Mercedes, belonged to Natalie DeBolt. It came to a quiet stop right in front of Christy's front walk. There were three people inside and they were all preparing to leave the vehicle.
Christy ran down the porch stairs and strode purposefully toward the car.
The cat stayed on the stoop now settled into his favorite position—seated on his haunches, back very straight, rear paws tucked under him, front legs straight and close to his body, tail curled around his feet.
"Don't get out," Christy said, as Ellen, seated in the front passenger seat, put one hand on the open door frame and angled a foot out of the car.
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
By this time Natalie had emerged from the driver's side and the third person—Aaron DeBolt—was half out of the rear seat, passenger side.
Christy ignored Ellen and rounded on Aaron. "And you! I don't know how you dare to show your face here! All of you, away." She made swishing motions with her hands. "You're not welcome here."
Over the top, Chris. Ellen's family.
The voice, sounding nearby, was grudging. Christy looked down and saw that Stormy had left his post on the porch and was standing beside her. His back was arched, his fur stood on end and his eyes were narrow slits. As Christy watched, the cat crouched, ready to pounce.
Aaron on the other hand, is a good call. If he won't get back into the car, I'll help him along.
"Shit," said Aaron, looking down at the cat.
"Language," said his mother.
The cat growled, a low ominous rumble that promised danger.
"It's that crazy cat." Aaron flung himself back into the car and slammed the door.
"Aaron, what are you doing, darling? Ellen has invited us for tea," Natalie said. She ignored Christy and started round the car, clearly heading for the house.
Christy shot one look at Natalie, then focused on Ellen. "Did you talk to Trevor?"
"Yes," Ellen said, frowning. She was wearing the same clothes she had on when she left the house two days before. She looked rumpled and drained. Christy resisted the urge to give her sanctuary and let her come inside. "Then you know that your presence here puts Noelle's future in jeopardy. Trevor and Roy have been getting your place in order so that it would be ready for you when Trevor posted bail." She glanced at Natalie, now around the car and standing by Ellen's open door, then looked back at Ellen. "Why are you here with her, anyway?"
"Natalie looks after me," Ellen said. "Friends do that." She sniffed. "Family should too."
You have got to be kidding. There was disgust in the voice and some resignation too. It reminded Christy that Frank had spent much of his childhood being hassled and manipulated by Ellen Jamieson. Right now she understood what he was feeling. Ellen's refusal to see anything but good in the DeBolt mother and son made it easy to banish compassion and guilt.
"Uh-huh. And how did Natalie look after you?" Okay, her hostility was rude and maybe over the top, as Frank had said, but Christy couldn't help it. Aaron DeBolt, a man who had always treated her like unwanted trailer trash and who had helped to kill her husband, was sitting not three feet from her and Ellen was accusing her of behaving badly?
"She posted the bond to secure my release," Ellen said. Her voice was cold, but underneath there was a quaver. "She knew how desperately I wanted out of that place."
Christy could understand that desire. No one wants to stay in jail any longer than they have to. But to allow the mother of the man accused of killing your nephew to post bail? What was Ellen thinking?
Why is Aaron here?
Christy voiced Frank's question.
Natalie opened her eyes wide and her mouth curved into a delighted smile. "Aaron is free! Even though Brittany Day is no longer with us, her affidavit has been accepted by the justice system. Aaron is no longer charged in Frank's murder." The smile broadened, if that was possible. "I was at the police station picking Aaron up, and I asked about Ellen. When I learned that she was still incarcerated I couldn't let my dearest friend languish behind bars any longer. So I got her released too!"
The statement ended on a squeal that made Natalie sound like a brainless bimbo who had just maxed out her sugar daddy's credit card buying a new wardrobe. But Christy knew Natalie wasn't brainless. What was up? She narrowed her eyes as she said to Ellen, "Trevor arranged the bail money with your bank this morning. He planned to get you out today. In fact, he may even be down at the police station now."
Ellen, still seated in the car, now had both feet now on the pavement and her body angled out the door. "I knew his intentions," she said. "But Natalie was there and—"
Natalie reached down and grabbed her hand. "Come on. Let's go inside and celebrate!"
Aaron opened his door again. The cat growled, then hissed as he once rose into an angry pose, back arched and ears flattened.
Aaron shut the door with a snap.
Christy put her hand over Natalie's and said in a low voice that was her version of the cat's growl, "Celebrate somewhere else. I want you gone."
And if they didn't depart soon, she'd have to leave them behind, free to do whatever they wanted, because she had to be over at the school to pick up Noelle.
"I don't understand why you are being so hostile, Christy," Ellen said.
Christy looked down and sympathy tugged at her. Ellen's face was a frozen mask, but there was misery in her eyes. She was holding herself together, but at a tremendous cost. Christy sighed. "Do you remember Joan Shively, the child services worker?"
Ellen nodded.
"She's made it very clear that she will take Noelle into care if she is living in the same house with you. I have to decide between you and Noelle. There is no choice."
To her credit, Ellen nodded. At that point another car came down the street. This time it turned into the Armstrongs' driveway. Roy and Trevor were back.
Stormy bounded toward them. Evidently Frank intended to fill them in on the action. Good thing too, Christy thought. She could use the support. "Please get back in your car, Natalie," she said as politely as she could. "There will be no tea party this afternoon."
"Nonsense!" Natalie said. She smiled down at Ellen. "Ellen, tell her."
"Christy, Noelle isn't even at home yet. Natalie has done me a great service and I am so very grateful..."
Roy reached the Mercedes a few steps ahead of Trevor and the cat. "Ellen!" he said. "What are you doing here?"
"She's with me," Natalie said. She smiled.
Bared her teeth, more like, Christy thought, eying her. She looked at Roy and Trevor. "I have to go pick up Noelle. I don't want them here when I get back. Can you handle it?"
Roy nodded.
Trevor looked into the back seat. "So this is Aaron DeBolt."
Roy and Christy froze. Stormy hopped up onto the planter box beside the walk. Standing on the wooden frame he was just about eye level with the window in the car door. He hissed and arched his back in a threatening way.
Trevor was now bent over so he too was eye to eye with Aaron. "The cat doesn't seem to like you," Trevor said affably. "I wonder why?" He straightened, then stared at Natalie, assessing her. "Can't say I blame him."
Natalie's mouth tightened into a thin line. Temper flashed in her eyes.
On a roll, Trevor extended both hands to Ellen. "Come, fair lady. It's not a wise idea for you to be consorting with a DeBolt—"
"But we are such dear friends," Natalie said. The temper was gone and now he
r mouth was screwed up into a teasing pout.
"Really?" Roy said.
Ellen accepted Trevor's hands and eased out of the car until she stood in front of him. Trevor smiled approval. "Come over to Roy's house. I need to talk to you about your case." He shot a cool look at the still pouting Natalie. "This needs to be a private consultation. I know you understand, Mrs. DeBolt."
Impulsively, Christy leaned over and kissed Trevor on the cheek. "Thanks!" She looked at him, then Roy, and finally Ellen. "I've got to go. I'll see you later."
Roy patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry about anything. We'll be at my place when you get back."
Christy nodded. As she hurried down the hill to the main road, she heard Roy say cheerfully, "You're a sinking ship, Natalie. Better get out while you still can."
There was a moment of silence, then Natalie said, "I know when I'm not wanted," followed by the slam of a car door.
As the engine roared into life, Christy chuckled.
Chapter 21
With Christmas fast approaching, Christy decided that this weekend was the time to take Noelle shopping. She wanted to choose presents for her parents and mail them early enough to ensure they would be delivered in time for Christmas. It was important, too, that Noelle take part in searching for the gifts. With her grandparents living across the country, she saw them only occasionally. Any link Christy could foster to bring them closer was important.
The mall was festively decorated and in the central court, outside the venerable Hudson's Bay Company store, Santa Claus presided over a snowy compound staffed with photograph elves, organizing elves, and cashier elves. Noelle was entranced.
Jamiesons didn't visit shopping mall Santas. Mainly because Jamiesons didn't shop at the local mall, but also because Ellen Jamieson considered mall Santas tacky. Noelle's annual visit to Santa always took place at the Jamieson Ice Cream family Christmas party. There, in that clean and protected environment, she was the first child to sit on Santa's lap and tell him her secret wishes.
Surrounding the Santa enclosure was a miniature train ride. The cars were the perfect size to fit a small child, though the sturdy engine was able to haul the weight of adventurous adults as well. Sitting at the front of the train, on the cheerfully chugging engine, was the engineer. Dressed in traditional striped shirt and cap, he waved cheerfully to the children lined up to visit Santa. The regular toot of engine's horn added to the buzz of voices and the squeals of excited children.