by Cassie Page
Olivia shooed Tuesday around them. “Quick. Keep going. There’s an exit at the other end of the lot. Hurry and turn right, then turn your lights off. You’ll be on a dark street. He won’t see us.”
By the time the guard got the green light and followed the truck into Paymoor’s parking area, Tuesday had exited the lot and disappeared into the web of quiet residential streets that, in daylight, made Darling Valley the subject of picture postcards and brochures published by sellers of exclusive real estate. Determining that it was safe to turn the truck’s lights back on, Olivia directed Tuesday along surface streets to a back road and eventually the construction site.
Floodlights around the entrance to the site illuminated the road ahead of them. Olivia instructed Tuesday to slow down and pull into a grove of trees across from the site that hid the truck from the street. They were at least a mile from the nearest house or structure. No one could see them, not even passing cars.
The chain link fence surrounding the site had two entrances, one at each end of the property. Tuesday pointed to the guard dog that began pacing the fence at the sound of the approaching truck. “Your welcoming committee?”
Olivia was not concerned. “That’s just Venus.”
Ignoring the dog, she focused on the table at the far end of the road. It was set up right outside the entrance Olivia usually used to get to the parking area. Scott’s trailer was nearby, as well as the abandoned groundbreaking site. A lone figure sat at the table under the bright light. He was reading a book and wearing headphones plugged into an MP3 player. Behind him on the other side of the fence was a dumpster with its lid closed and a slightly taller utility shed. Olivia could see the ghostly outlines of the earthmoving equipment and cranes, but the deeper reaches of the site where Jed had no doubt been killed was pitch black. The dog had apparently gotten used to the man at the table, lost interest in Olivia’s truck and was slumped down near the locked gate, engrossed in licking her paws.
The man seemed unaware that either the dog or the occupants of the truck were watching him. The music that kept his foot tapping blocked out the sound of the truck engine and the dog’s occasional bark.
Olivia grinned at Tuesday. “This is better than I expected.”
Tuesday leaned forward to peer into the gloom to see what excited Olivia. “The man at the table. He’s the bait?”
Olivia pointed to the demonstrator. “It’s Roger Greentree. He’s doing solo guard duty tonight. They need to make sure their set up isn’t sabotaged. As long as he doesn’t remove his headphones, he won’t hear a thing.”
Olivia had been pretty sure that the protesters would have set up shifts to keep the demonstration going. They had made an altar of sorts and held ceremonies during the day. Roger wouldn’t take a chance that someone would tear down the site during the night. Olivia knew demonstrations of this sort went on 24/7. If they became big enough, they turned into tent cities. She needed this situation settled before that happened.
As she guessed, news that the archeological findings were too old to have come from one of the local tribes either had not reached Roger or had not stopped him. He would milk the media attention for one goal or another.
Tuesday, still skeptical of Olivia’s plan, said, “You’re sure he will show up?”
“This group wants to shut down the project. He can’t have that.”
13:3
A few minutes later, after they went over the plan one last time, Tuesday said, “Okay, Wonder Woman. It’s zero dark thirty. How are we going to do this?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
The bumpy ride over potholes had aggravated Olivia’s wounds. Tuesday saw her wince and said, “You need a pain pill.”
“No,” said Olivia. “I have to be alert.”
She scanned the site, then did her thinking out loud. “I have to be practical. I’m not up to jumping him from behind. It will have to be an inside job.”
After fumbling around under her seat, she retrieved the plastic bag she’d packed before they left the house then, retrieved the hammer she kept in the truck.
Tuesday reared away from it. “You gonna bonk him with that?”
“If I have to. This is my insurance policy. I keep it in the truck for safety’s sake in case I run into trouble on a dark night coming home from a remodeling job up in the hills.”
Tuesday nodded. “Smart cookie. But how are you going to get over the fence.”
Olivia smiled slyly. “I have the keys to the kingdom.”
She pulled out her massive collection and searched until she found what she was looking for. “It pays to have friends in high places. Charles insisted that he and I have access to the site at all times. Scott had to give me a key. It ruffled his feathers, but this is how I get in.”
She gave Tuesday last minute instructions. “You know the signal to make your call.”
“I do. I just hope they can get here in time.”
Olivia slipped out of the truck and eased the door closed. She crept across the road hunched over to protect her painful side. As soon as she was inside the gate, Venus heard her and bounded over, excited by her favorite smell. Olivia looked up but she couldn’t see Greentree at his table from where she was, hoped his music muffled the sound of the dog. She knelt down and quickly slipped the muzzle that had belonged to her favorite Shepherd in LA over Venus’ snout. Though she missed her dog, he had passed away before she relocated to Darling Valley. She had thought she might get another dog once she was settled in DV and had kept the leashes and muzzle. Now she was glad she had.
Venus bumped her nose against her, nuzzling her lap for a treat.
Olivia whispered soothingly in her ear. “Easy girl. I’m the walking wounded. Ouch.” She pushed Venus away from her side. “It won’t be long now.”
Very quietly she walked Venus to the dumpster and shed behind the table where Greentree sat. Thanks to Olivia’s hugging and petting, Venus had calmed down. With her heart pounding and her hands shaking, Olivia loosened the buckle on the muzzle and unlocked the padlock on the gate, being careful not to rattle the metal chain. She began to feel weak, willed herself not to faint or slump to the ground. Tuesday had been right. At the house making the plan, she was energized and raring to go. Now her surgery, her injuries and her fear exhausted her. But she had crossed the Rubicon. She could not go back.
Olivia and Venus sat in the dark watching and waiting. Olivia worried that maybe she had misjudged him and he wouldn’t show up. Time passed slowly, painfully. The crouched position made her cry out once when she lost her balance, but miraculously Greentree, still plugged into his music, had not heard.
After what seemed hours but was probably only twenty minutes, Olivia saw lights approaching from the hills. Was it him? Olivia could not tell. She held her breath.
The car stopped well behind the protester at the table, and the driver doused the lights before Greentree, still immersed in his music and book, could tell he was there.
Still holding a tight grasp on her collar, Olivia whispered to Venus, “It has to be him. No one else would stop this time of night. Oh, Tuesday, I hope you are doing your thing.”
The dog gave her a plaintive look, nudging Olivia for the treat she could smell.
Olivia peered around the shed, watching the man creep up behind Greentree. He held something in his hand. She could not identify it, but he began to raise his arm and she knew that was her moment. She briefly let Venus sniff the treat, holding the leash tight as the dog went crazy trying to get at it. Then in a flash, Olivia ripped off the dog’s muzzle and with a mighty throw that tore a bolt of pain through her side, she sent the last of the pizza Pete had delivered the night before sailing over the fence. With dead aim, it hit Alistair in the nose.
At the same instant, Olivia released the dog’s collar. “Go get it, Venus,” In a flash the dog was up on the dumpster, then the shed and had leaped over the fence before Alistair could wipe the pizza and the shock from his face.
Greentree, finally roused by the commotion, slammed his head phones on the table and jumped out of his chair to see Venus pinning Alistair to the ground, chewing on both Victor’s pepperoni and sausage and Alistair’s hands that were trying to protect his face.
Olivia pushed on the gate. A slight tug on the lock released it. She held the hammer over her head, growling as thickly as did Venus. “Make one move, Alistair and I’ll let this mangy poodle eat you alive.”
Greentree shouted, “What’s going on. Are you crazy Granville? Let him up.”
Olivia pointed to the blunt object near Alistair. “He was going to kill you.”
Within minutes they heard sirens. Matt reached Olivia first, then Tuesday. “There’s your murder weapon,” she said, pointing to the hookaroon, “that spiked thing,” and fell moaning into Tuesday’s arms.
“My pain pills. Now.”
13:4
They conducted the post mortem at Olivia’s, this time in her bedroom. Tuesday refused to allow her entry into the kitchen or living room and told Matt, Cody and Charles they could meet with her for ten minutes. “AND THAT’s IT!”
Charles wanted them to wait until morning and allow Olivia time to recover from her second ordeal in twenty-four hours, but she refused. “I have too many questions that need answers.”
Matt stood by the side of her bed holding her hand. “Okay, but ask quickly because Genghis Khan here is going to kick us out in nine minutes and fifty seconds.”
Olivia was drowsy from her pain pills but forced herself to concentrate. “Okay, I want to know why me, but more important, why didn’t he finish me off when he had the chance. Then you might never have caught him.”
Matt had spent a few minutes interrogating Alistair before the paramedics took him to the trauma center to have his some minor dog bites looked at. Johnson would then take over and escort him to a jail cell.
Matt said, “I asked him that question myself. He said someone interrupted him.”
Olivia and Tuesday gave each other puzzled looks. “Who? Nobody else was out there.”
“He claims he heard a baby crying inside your house. He thought it was a friend of yours who would come running out to see who woke up the kid.”
“Baby,” said Olivia. “There’s no baby here.”
Tuesday put her hands to her face. “Oh my lord. Oh my ever-loving lord. The cat.”
Olivia said, “Huh?”
“It wasn’t a cat that was waking me up, it was a baby. Mrs. Harmon has a baby down there. The diapers in the trash, the crying sounds. It all makes sense now.”
Matt dropped Olivia’s hand. They both said, Victoria Fisher.
Matt ran down the stairs to Mrs. Harmon’s kitchen door, Tuesday flying on his heels.
He pounded on the door. “Mrs. Harmon? It’s Matt. Open up please.”
After a pause, Mrs. Harmon called through her door, “This isn’t a good time, dear. Let’s get together tomorrow. I’m getting into bed. I’m in my night clothes with night cream on my face.”
Tuesday wasn’t surprised she called him dear. She knew their friendship predated Olivia’s arrival in Darling Valley.
“Mrs. Harmon.” Matt was insistent. “I need to speak to Victoria. Please open the door.”
It took a full minute before they heard the lock turn. Mrs. Harmon, in the St. John suit she had worn earlier, hair and makeup perfect, pulled open the door just a crack.
“How did you find out?”
Chapter Fourteen: Pool Party
14:1
Olivia spent Friday in bed dozing, when she wasn’t phoning instructions to Cody and Carrie at the Fredericks’ pool house. While she recuperated, they stepped in to oversee the final arrangements for the anniversary party.
She didn’t fight Tuesday who insisted on waiting on her hand and foot. A trip to the trauma center after Alistair’s arrest assured her that she was healing ahead of schedule, but she needed to take it easy.
The ER doctor had said, “Your head hurts? Big surprise, cookie. You go around bonking people over the head with a blunt instrument less than a day after surgery? Yeah, you’re gonna hurt.”
Olivia protested. “I didn’t do any bonking. I got bonked.”
Tuesday elaborated. “She nailed him with Victor’s special.”
The doctor laughed. “Oh, I’d love to have seen that come in here. Diagnosis: Death by pizza. That would be a new one. Wait’ll I tell my grandson. He’s a fiend for pizza.”
She checked the stitches and applied new bandages to Olivia’s wounds. “I gave him pizza pajamas for his birthday last month. My daughter can’t get them off him to wash them.”
She wrote out a prescription for antibiotics as a precaution. “Six year-olds. If we all stayed that age it would save the world. Here, it’s a Z pack. Two tonight, one every day until you finish all the pills. Five days total.”
Olivia asked about the possibility of attending the Fredericks’ party, explaining the importance.
“Okay. You don’t have to bat your baby blues at me. You can go. But no more than thirty minutes, then I want you home in bed. Seriously, girl. I get that 250 is your resting heart rate and you can do it all, including lassoing the bad guys. But let me spell it out. You’ve just had SURGERY. It’s a big, honking deal.”
Tuesday came into the bedroom. “Hungry, honey bunch?”
Olivia said yes, “But I don’t want to see a pizza for at least thirty-seven years.”
Tuesday rolled her eyes. “Yeah, thirty-seven and counting.”
She ordered Hugo’s salmon salad for both of them, delivery in half an hour.
Olivia’s phone rang as Tuesday was bringing in their lunch. She took the call while making room on her lap for the tray. It was Marguerite Fredericks, her third call that day since she discovered she had been the target of Hamish’s scam, as Olivia had warned.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you, dear.”
“Of course not, Mrs. Fredericks.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s Marguerite. Listen, I’ve decided to send my driver to pick you up for the party. The back seat of the Bentley is very comfy. You can leave at the first twinge of pain. Okay?”
“That’s not necessary, Marguerite.”
It took Olivia a second to get used to calling her client by her first name. She felt somehow that she was breaking a taboo, but nevertheless allowed Marguerite to roll off her tongue.
“My friends will drive me. You remember that Detective Richards, Charles Bacon, Tuesday and Cody are coming. Vittorio told me you also invited him. That’s very generous of you.”
Marguerite was effusive. “Nonsense. I’m thrilled to have your friends and associates join us. After all, Olivia, look what you’ve done for me. Saved me from a disastrous fraud and all the publicity that would have created. I would have looked like a fool. And then there is the divine pool house. I can’t wait to show it off.”
“I’m so glad you’re happy with it.”
“Oh, indeed. But as long as I have you on the phone,”
Olivia laughed to herself. No way would Marguerite waste her time on a purely social call when she could get a snippet of Olivia’s professional time, free.
“You know those lamps you had Vittorio install?”
Of course Olivia remembered. They cost an arm and a leg and that didn’t include the price of the lightning fast repairs Cody had been able to arrange.
“Richard said you’ll need to replace them. The shades are an inch too short. Throws off the symmetry of the room.”
Olivia sighed. “Whatever you say, Marguerite.”
After lunch Tuesday tiptoed in to announce she had a visitor if she felt up to it.
“Who is it?”
“Elise.”
“I don’t know an Elise.”
“Holy pendulum, Ollie. Of course you do. Your tenant, Elise Harmon.”
Olivia fell back on her pillows. Elise, Marguerite. This would take some getting used to.
“Sure, sho
w her in.”
Mrs. Harmon sat on a slipper chair next to Olivia’s bed. Olivia waited for the usual how are you, I was so worried about you, the litany of concern shown by her friends, and which she found so comforting after her frightening ordeal.
But her tenant passed over the pleasantries and stated her business forthwith.
“I want to explain why I offered Victoria some seclusion, you know, in case there are legal consequences. I felt I should keep it a secret from you because you get so flighty about things like this.”
Olivia wondered at her karma at being saddled with interesting, testy women. She ignored the veiled insult, though not understanding how her behavior was flighty. Tuesday complained she was too serious.
“Why would there be legal consequences, Mrs. Harmon?”
She waited, but her tenant did not insist she use her first name. Just as she thought.
“After all, Mrs. Harmon, Victoria was not guilty of a crime, though it was all over the news that she was wanted for questioning. It would have saved the police some effort if you had told us you had invited her to stay with you. You know how strapped they are for resources.”
Olivia knew how to give a backhanded compliment, as well.
Mrs. Harmon softened a bit as she explained. “Its just that she seemed so defenseless at the ceremony after her husband was found. I remember the shock I felt when my husband’s body was discovered and the hooha the press made of it, never giving me a moment’s peace. And having to deal with the police to figure out how he died and, oh let’s not go into that. You know all about it.”
Indeed, Olivia did. She and Tuesday had confirmed that her husband had been murdered and even helped nail the culprits.
“Well, she was in a state of shock and had the baby to care for and all. And I had room for her, so I just spirited her away. We’ve been having a fine time except in the night when the baby fusses. I let her walk outside in the garden and that always calms the little one down.”