Over Maya Dead Body

by Sandra Orchard

  “I don’t think leaving her here alone is a good idea,” Moore said. “Whether she wants to believe it or not, her brother was seen in the company of known drug dealers. They see her here, they could decide to silence her too.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Carly sobbed.

  “For your own protection,” Moore said coolly.

  The Murder She Wrote ringtone chimed from my phone, and my heart jumped to my throat. “Excuse me,” I said, “I need to take this.” Normally, I wouldn’t interrupt an interview to take a call from Aunt Martha, but what if she’d been hurt by that airbag after all? Or what if whoever cut the brakes had tried something else?

  I clicked on the phone. “Aunt Martha, what’s wrong?”

  “This is Officer Baxter of the Tisbury police department. Whom am I speaking with?”

  “Tisbury? What happened?” I exchanged a worried glance with Nate and then lowering my voice, withdrew to the hallway. “Where’s my aunt? Is she okay?”

  “Yes, and you are?”

  “Special Agent Serena Jones, FBI. What’s going on? Why do you have my aunt’s phone?”

  Nate stepped into view at the edge of the living room, concern etched in his face.

  “A mischief complaint has been filed against her by the local car rental agency,” the officer said.

  “Mischief?” The spike in my voice could’ve cracked an eardrum. I hauled my voice down a few decibels. “What kind of mischief?”

  Amusement twinkled in Nate’s eyes. He was all too well acquainted with how often Aunt Martha got into mischief.

  “Hacking into the local car rental agency’s computer system.”

  “What?”

  “Let me talk to her,” Aunt Martha insisted in the background and then came on the line. “Tell this young man his department investigated your father’s hit-and-run. He won’t listen to me.”

  “It wasn’t the Tisbury department, Aunt Martha. It was West Tisbury.”

  “West. East.” She emitted a frustrated huff. “A simple search should’ve still confirmed my story. He thinks I’m barmy just because my hair is gray.”

  “Where are you?”

  “The rental agency. The manager is shielding the identity of the hit-and-run driver who mowed down your father.”

  “What?”

  “You heard right. The tow truck driver who came and hauled Carmen’s rental away said this was the fourth problem this week for the rental company. And number three came in Thursday morning. A customer returned an SUV with a dent in the front fender. Claimed he hit a deer.”

  The same night as the hit-and-run. “Did you get a look at the vehicle?”

  “No, it’d already gone to the auto body shop for repairs. And the manager wouldn’t give me the customer’s name, so while he was inspecting the new rental with Carmen, I took a looksee myself. The manager had a conniption and called the police. But he won’t give the officer the name either.”

  “Okay, let me talk to the officer.” When he came back on the line, I asked him to contact Officer Lennox with the West Tisbury department and explained why the person whose name Aunt Martha wanted to retrieve should be questioned, along with the technician who fixed the car. If the suspect really hit a deer, the technician would’ve seen traces of fur.

  The officer assured me he would do so and let Aunt Martha go with a warning to leave the investigating to police. I wouldn’t hold my breath on the second part. Not even a couple of thugs duct-taping her hands to her steering wheel and threatening to shoot her had dampened her thirst for a good, real-life mystery for more than twelve days and seven hours. And the fact the creep had cut Carmen’s brakes made it personal.

  Not to mention I was 99 percent sure Aunt Martha thought she was invincible.

  She came on the line again and asked me what Tanner found.

  “Ben. I’ll explain when I get back to the house.” First I needed to grill him on how he was getting around the island. His taxi driver friend had corroborated his hitchhiking claim for the night he came in, but Ben could’ve rented a car the next day. “Are you and Carmen heading back to Preston’s now?”

  Aunt Martha let out an annoyed snort. “No. After the manager caught me on the computer, he didn’t want to rent us another car.”

  I couldn’t blame him. “One of us can pick you up.”

  “Don’t worry, Winston won’t mind coming back for us.”

  “If you’re sure. Please be careful and maybe don’t mention the cut brakes to Mom.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. She has enough to fret over with helping your dad plan tonight’s memorial service.”

  Right. I glanced at my watch. Still had three hours. I wished Special Agent Jackson would hurry up and get here.

  As I stepped back into the living room, Moore said, “I think it’s time to take this interrogation to the police station. I’ll see the young woman gets home safely.”

  Carly rose abruptly. “I need to use the bathroom.”

  I motioned her to go ahead and watched down the hall until she closed the bathroom door behind her.

  Moore moved to my side and spoke in a low voice. “I hope your trust in Ben is an act because from where I sit, he looks good for the whole shebang.”

  “Carly is hiding something. Anyone with two eyes can see that.” But I turned to Ben and, hoping to catch him off guard, asked him point-blank, “Why’d you switch out your rental vehicle?”

  24

  Ben sat on the sofa in Charlie’s living room and stared at me dumbfounded. “Huh?” He leaned forward, a move that might’ve been contrived to encourage me to believe him, but I already believed the confusion on his face. “I’ve never rented a vehicle in my life. I’m not even twenty-five.”

  That didn’t make it impossible, just more expensive. “How have you been getting around the island since Lisa took you in?”

  Ben raked his fingers through his hair. “After I walked down to Jack’s Wednesday afternoon and overheard Carly’s accusation, I was whirling. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if he’d gotten hold of the feds or had talked to the local cops. I figured I needed to lay low until I could read some reports and find out what the cops were saying, so I headed back to Lisa’s, staying in the woods so I wouldn’t be spotted.

  “I trolled the news sites for hours. When I saw the text from Ashley asking if I missed my plane, I realized saying yes could be my ticket to being invisible. I figured Charlie was bound to hear and I’d be able to watch his movements with no one the wiser.”

  Moore folded his arms and locked a cold hard stare on Ben.

  “It wasn’t how that sounded,” Ben backtracked. “I figured he had a partner in this smuggling scheme he was working. I thought I might spot them meeting.”

  “How’d you watch his movements without wheels?” I pressed.

  “I borrowed a pickup from a friend of mine who’s off the island.”

  “Borrowed or stolen?”

  “Borrowed,” Ben said firmly. “I had a standing offer to use it. He’s an island guy. The keys were under the mat. I didn’t steal anything.”

  “When was that?”

  “Wednesday night.”

  I glanced down the hall to check up on Carly, but the bathroom door was still closed. “What time?” I asked Ben.

  “Not long after sunset. I’d been waiting for dark to go back to Jack’s to grab my backpack. I figured I couldn’t pull off the I missed a plane angle if you guys found my backpack.”

  Nate pinned Ben with a laser-like glare. “Where’s the truck now?”

  Ben swallowed, his gaze bouncing from Nate to me.

  Because he was guilty of running my dad down? Or because Nate looked primed to tear him limb from limb? I squelched a chuckle at how cute Nate looked going all protective over me, even if ‘pickup’ didn’t fit the description of the vehicle that had clipped Dad. I nodded to Ben. “Answer the question.”

  “Around the corner. The black Ford.”

  Nate rose. �
�Excuse me.”

  Detective Moore started after him, probably worried Nate would contaminate possible evidence.

  I grabbed Moore’s arm. “Let him go. Tanner’s out there,” I reminded him, then returned my attention to Ben. “You never got the backpack. What happened?”

  “The road was crawling with cops when I tried to go back later that night. By the time I finally got my chance with no one around, the backpack was gone.”

  “So why didn’t you go see Ashley then and there?” I said to Ben. “Didn’t it occur to you if we’d found your abandoned backpack, we’d be worried you’d been killed too?”

  His eyes widened. “No, I never . . .” He scrubbed his hand over his face and, hunching over, sunk his elbows into his thighs. “I didn’t mean to scare Ashley. I was trying to keep her safe.”

  “And how did you think you’d accomplish that?” Moore spoke up.

  “By figuring out who Charlie was working for. Jack told me Charlie would be getting back from a trip to South America the same day I was supposed to get in, so I followed him. I figured he’d set up a meeting with his buyer to get paid for whatever he’d mailed.”

  “Did he?”

  “Not that I saw. He dropped by Jack’s office, but Frank wasn’t there.” Ben glanced toward the hallway and lowered his voice. “That’s probably when you saw Carly talking to him like you said before.”

  I nodded encouragingly, although I had to wonder if he was weaving a story around the tidbits I’d fed him. I snagged Detective Moore’s gaze. “You notice a black pickup tailing Charlie?”

  Moore shook his head and that worried look returned to Ben’s eyes.

  Outside, gunshots erupted.

  I dove for Ben and pushed him to the floor, shielding his body with mine.

  “Shots fired. Shots fired,” Moore shouted into his radio and relayed the address. He dove to the side of the window and peeked out the bottom corner.

  “Can you see Tanner and Nate? Are they okay?” My heart galloped a hundred miles a minute.

  “No, no I can’t see—” He gasped.

  My blood chilled. “What?” I scrambled to the window.

  “Duck!” Moore screamed above the squeal of tires.

  Something crashed through the window, and the room ignited in flames.

  “We need firefighters,” Moore shouted into his radio.

  “Go, go, go,” I shouted to Ben, scrambling out of the way of the spreading fire. “Out the back. We’ll be right behind you.” I bobbed my head just high enough to scan the scene outside. No sign of our gunman. Or Tanner and Nate. By the time I turned back to the room, the flames had licked up the sofa.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Moore said.

  Staying hunched low, we ran for the hallway, the intensity of the heat doubling by the second.

  Smoke clawed my throat as I looked for Ben and Carly. “The back door’s open,” I said, racing past the kitchen doorway to the still closed bathroom door. “Ben must’ve gotten out.” I pounded on the bathroom door. “Carly, fire! We have to go!”

  No answer.

  I tried the knob. “It’s locked.” I pounded harder. “Carly, open up!”

  Moore kicked the door in, scanned the room, ripped the shower curtain from the rod to look in the tub. The window over the tub was open. “She went out the window.”

  Moore pushed me toward the back door. “Go! But be careful. The shooter could’ve circled around.”

  We dashed out, still hunched low. “Ben? Carly?” I hissed, loud enough for them to hear me but hopefully not loud enough to attract the attention of our gunman. The yard was small and empty. I glanced through a slat of the cedar fence separating Charlie’s yard from the yard behind. “No sign of them this way.”

  “Here either,” Moore called from the right.

  “Surely they wouldn’t have run to the front,” I said.

  “Unless they had a death wish,” Moore agreed grimly.

  “Find them. I’ve got to check on Tanner and Nate.” I vaulted the side fence and skirted between it and the neighboring house for cover.

  Sirens wailed in the distance. My gaze swept the street and my breath stalled.

  Ben’s truck was in flames. No sign of a gunman. I dashed to the street. “Nate! Tanner!” Oh, Lord, please let them be okay.

  A large man sprayed a fire extinguisher at the flaming truck. A dark-haired woman appeared behind him and waved me over, pointing me to the yard on the other side of the truck. “They’re here!”

  I raced toward her.

  Tanner stood, his eyes meeting mine, looking unharmed, and relief rushed through me like a tsunami.

  Until my gaze dropped and I saw Nate’s still form sprawled on the grass at Tanner’s feet.

  I took in his blackened face and promptly lost my breakfast.

  Nate pushed to his feet. “Never seen her do that before,” he said, his tone punchy.

  “I’ve seen her come close a time or two,” Tanner countered.

  “I would’ve tried to get myself killed before, if I’d known how much you cared,” Nate said with a loopy grin.

  Tanner rolled his eyes while I covered my mouth, blinking back tears. I took a swig from the water bottle the dear woman who’d flagged me over offered and got my emotions back in control. Then I swiped the moisture from my lips and faced the pair. “Can you identify who did this?” My gaze dropped to Nate’s chin, because I wasn’t ready to let him see what might be in my eyes.

  “A guy in a dark blue Jeep,” Nate said.

  “It was a black Tahoe,” Tanner corrected.

  Nate shook his head. “It was a Jeep Cherokee. No front license plate.”

  Tanner mimicked the head shake but didn’t repeat his opinion.

  “What was the target?” I interjected, oddly comforted to see them back to disagreeing with each other.

  “Looked as if Nate was the guy they wanted,” Tanner said. “He strode out of the house and told me he was inspecting Ben’s truck. I was in the middle of answering a text from headquarters, so it was a good ten seconds before I turned to follow him. When I did, I saw the Tahoe turn onto the street and a flaming bottle fly out the rear window toward Nate.”

  “I didn’t see it coming,” Nate said. “I dove for the dirt at the gunshots and rolled under the truck for cover, but got winged by a hunk of glass.”

  “Did you see the shooter?” I asked Tanner.

  “I was the shooter,” he grumbled. “I was trying to stop them. They whipped the second bottle toward the house, then sped off.”

  “He got burnt trying to help the other one out from under the truck,” my water bottle lady added.

  A fire truck pulled up and two firefighters made short work of ensuring the flames were smothered as firefighters from a second truck went to work on Charlie’s house.

  I introduced myself to the pair manning the truck fire. “Is an ambulance coming? We have a cut and a second-degree burn that need treating.”

  “Should be here any minute.”

  Moore stalked across the street. “Your old family friend saw his chance to escape and took it. I called in a BOLO. Carly’s bike is gone. She shouldn’t be difficult to spot. I’m going to start looking.”

  “Do you think one of them orchestrated the hit so they could get away?” Nate asked.

  “Frank could have, after he left,” Tanner said. “Where’s your agent who was supposed to be here?”

  “I don’t know what’s keeping him,” I said, the myriad of potential connections between our suspects swirling through my mind.

  The arriving ambulance bleeped its siren and parked a safe distance from the fire.

  “At least the paramedics are here,” I said to Tanner and Nate.

  “This”—Moore motioned to the charred truck—“looks like the work of drug dealers to me. Face it, Serena. Whatever Charlie was into, Ben was too.”

  An image of Ben running in his tight-fitting jeans flashed through my mind, and my chest tightened. He’
d spun a believable yarn that put him on the good-guy side. But what if instead of him going to Jack, Jack found out about Ben’s little side business and threatened to turn him in if he didn’t turn himself in first? After all, Ben toured the world just as often as Charlie. Could Ben have killed Jack in cold blood?

  My stomach roiled at the thought.

  “You’re sure they both got out of the house?” Nate asked as a paramedic steered him toward the ambulance.

  “Yes.” I folded my arms against a shiver. “Carly slipped out the bathroom window, maybe even before the commotion. And the back door was open, so we know Ben ran out ahead of us.”

  Tanner grimaced. “I may’ve left the back door open when I ran after him the first time.”

  I shot a panicked glance at the now fully engulfed house and then raced toward the fire chief to alert him.

  “Serena!” Ashley, far down the street, on the other side of the fire truck, sprinted up the sidewalk toward me. Her voice pitched higher as her gaze bounced from face to face. “Where’s Ben?”

  25

  Preston followed Ashley at a more sedate pace, his grim expression shifting from the burning house to me.

  “Your aunt Martha said Ben was here,” Ashley shrieked as police officers intercepted her.

  “Ma’am, you need to stay back.”

  “My brother. Where’s Ben?” she wailed.

  I shot a pleading look to Preston, who seemed to guess we couldn’t produce Ben. He clasped Ashley firmly about the shoulders and whispering in her ear, coaxed her back.

  Ashley’s gaze fixated on the burning house, her face white, and my heart went out to her.

  The minutes dragged. Tanner pulled me aside, his arm covered in goop. A pace behind him, a paramedic impatiently looked on. “Did Ben have a phone on him?”

  I squinted at Tanner, taking a moment to deduce what he was really asking. “He didn’t arrange this stunt, Tanner. Why would he?” I slanted a glance back at Ashley. “Taking off now only makes him look guilty.”

  “Good point,” Tanner conceded, “but maybe he needed to destroy evidence. That, or someone tipped off Charlie’s buyer.”

  “You think?” I snapped, not proud of myself for it, but Ashley’s sobbing pleas for her brother—the only family she had left—had me mentally kicking myself for the way I’d handled the whole interview.