Death Comes to a Retreat (Book 4 Molly Masters Mysteries)

by Leslie O'Kane

By the time Lois was to the fence that separated her property from Allison’s, Celia was halfway back to her own yard.

  “Cut the crap!” Lois snapped. “Friends, my ass! Who do you think you’re fooling?”

  “Whom,” Celia said triumphantly, then turned and kept going toward her own property, nose in the air.

  I watched all of this in stunned silence. I’d always assumed my children would outgrow their immature squabbling. Here were two women in their forties acting like four-year olds.

  At the fence, Lois stopped and turned toward me. “Are you all right now, Molly?”

  I was surprised she even remembered I existed. I looked at my skinned calves and forearms. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

  Lois stepped awkwardly over the fence, saying, “All the same, come over to my house and we’ll dress those scratches for you.”

  I hesitated, the thought of being with Lois unappealing. However, this would be a rare opportunity to talk to the woman alone. Physically, I was not up for climbing over the short fence and told Lois I’d ring her doorbell.

  Maria Chavez’s car, I noted as I reached the front yard, was gone. Her bolting under these circumstances gave me all the more cause to suspect that her reasons for ‘being in Allison Kenyon’s house weren’t aboveboard. My getting mauled by dogs would likely have led to her having to explain her presence to the authorities.

  Lois’s house and its extraordinary electrical system were still impressive on second visit. I assured her I could minister to my own injuries, if she could just provide the supplies. She sat on the fuzzy black toilet-seat cover and watched as I swabbed my minor scratches with alcohol.

  “Has Maria Chavez been living in Allison’s house for long?” I asked in a matter-of-fact voice.

  Without hesitation, Lois said, “She’s not living there.”

  “But I saw her drive out of Allison’s garage late last night.”

  Lois nodded. “I spotted her there, too, just after the funeral. In fact, I called to ask what she was doing. She claimed to be closing up the house, on Allison’s behalf. That sounded reasonable enough. I hadn’t stopped to wonder about why her car wasn’t in the driveway, though.”

  “Because she didn’t want the neighbors to see it there at that hour,” I said. “Which still leads me to suspect she has another reason for being there, late at night, which she’s keeping secret. Do you know much about her?”

  “Not a thing, except Allison raved about her and obviously trusted her. And, again, that she speaks good English.”

  “Do you know how Allison found her?” I asked, hoping Lois would name some service company that I could simply call up and inquire about her.

  “No idea,” she answered. Beneath those thick eyebrows of hers, Lois’s dark eyes were fastened right on mine. Unlike my earlier, similar conversation with Celia, I was certain she was telling me the whole truth.

  “I saw your son, Max, at Allison’s funeral,” I said, testing her reaction. “He’s very handsome.”

  “Yes,” she said through a tight jaw. “Allison thought so, too. As you’ve no doubt heard by now.”

  “That must have been awful. I have no idea how I’d handle it if a friend of mine were to…form an attachment to my teenage son.”

  “That’s right,” she snapped. “You don’t know. You couldn’t possibly know. I was so mad, I wanted to—” She broke off, then began again, “The truth is, there was a time when I used to lie awake at night, plotting ways to kill her. That is, when I wasn’t busy being barraged with images of Allison and my son together. But I didn’t kill her. Did try my damnedest to seduce her husband, though. Seems his dance card was overflowing.”

  “With Celia, you mean?”

  Lois laughed and nodded her head. “Celia had the hots for Richard the very first day she and her husband moved into the neighborhood. That’s what drove Celia’s husband away, in fact. They didn’t last six months here, and, boom, he moved out. Never saw him again. Moved to Michigan, I think.”

  “Did Allison know about Celia’s crush on Richard?”

  “How could she not know? ‘Course, it’s not as if there was anything she could do about it. They didn’t exactly have an equal opportunity marriage. That’s probably what drove her into Max’s arms…her urge to get good and even with Richard, I mean. What better revenge against an estranged husband than making it with the kid next door?”

  That was one rhetorical question I hoped to never experience the answer to for myself: the you-hurt-me-so-I’ll-hurt-you-even-worse game that all too many bad marriages seemed to deteriorate into. I was curious as to how this romance between Max and Allison could have developed. “You home-schooled Max, didn’t you?”

  “Once he hit his teen years, I sure did. I wanted to keep him away from high school students’ preoccupation with drugs and sex.” The pride that was obvious in her voice faded as she scoffed and shook her head. “Lot of good that did. He had all that extra time to hang out with the neighbors. Pretty ironic, wouldn’t you say? I’d made an arrangement with Allison. She’d agreed to tutor him in science in exchange for his doing yard work. So I’m the one who brought them together.”

  “He wound up living there, didn’t he?”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. “Max and I were having a few spats. Just typical family problems. Nothing we couldn’t have eventually resolved, if only Allison had kept her butt out of the picture.”

  She spoke with so much rancor, it was hard to believe she hadn’t had a hand in Allison’s death. I also couldn’t get over the image of the way the dogs had looked at her, as if awaiting a reward for performing their task. If Lois had let them out of the fence…. Then again, surely she couldn’t have guessed I was going to cut through Allison’s yard to get back home.

  “Where does your son live now?”

  “He’s eighteen. Thinks he’s an adult. He’s got a small apartment on Walnut.” After a pause, Lois said, “If I had it all to do over again, I’d still home-school. At least I know I’m a decent person with wholesome family values. Take Katherine, for example. She’s still teaching, despite her past.”

  “Despite what past?”

  She gave me a sly grin, her thick eyebrows drawn together. “Ah, so you don’t know everyone’s deepest secrets, after all.” The smile turned into a snarl, and she added, “Just mine.”

  “I barely know anything about Katherine. Even less about Nancy. What did Katherine do?”

  Lois winced a little as she rose. “Damned trick knee,” she muttered. “You wouldn’t have to ask, if you’d known Allison better. Katherine told her in confidence, but, of course, she blabbed about it to everyone. You’ll just have to find out about it on your own. Maybe that’ll make you keep your nose out of my affairs.”

  Damn! She’d been forthcoming during our conversation. Now all of a sudden, she seemed to resent my questions, even though she was the one who brought up Katherine’s past.

  She started to walk out, then hesitated at the bathroom doorway. “You’re not going to keep assisting Joe, are you?”

  “No, I’m not. I seem to keep myself plenty busy, between getting locked in saunas and chased by Dobermans.”

  She put her hands on her ample hips and studied me, slowly smiling. “The police came by here last night. You’ve been having a bit of a bad time of it in Colorado, haven’t you? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe it’s time for you to leave?”

  She didn’t wait for my response, which would have been rife with four-letter words. She merely turned on a heel and left the room.

  I caught sight of my reflection in the bathroom mirror and scared myself. My hair was tangled, the rough tree bark had rubbed one cheek raw, my eyes were bloodshot. “That’s it. I fold,” I murmured to myself, wondering what mad man had dealt me these cards in the first place.

  A cartoon about poker occurred to me. Maybe, if I never came up with any good ideas for the university press editor, she’d be into poker and would go for this one. Four people, thei
r eyes tightly closed, are sitting around a table. In the center of the table is a deck of cards and four chips. Three of the people say, “I fold.” The fourth thinks: Drat! And I had three aces! That’s going to be my only good hand all night! The caption reads: Psychics playing poker.

  I limped out of the bathroom. Lois Tucker was sitting in her living room. To my utter surprise, she was crying quietly, tears running down her cheeks.

  Chapter 13

  Violets are Purple. Hence the Name

  Feeling awkward at witnessing the normally combative Lois’s fragile emotional state, I pretended I hadn’t noticed. I headed for the door as fast as my sore, injured legs would take me, saying, “Thanks for …the antiseptic. I’ll let myself out.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to do now? I love my son. I also love a married man. Neither of them thinks I’m worth crossing the street for. I gave up everything to raise my boy to the best of my ability. And I was a good mother, Molly. Now he’s turned his back on me. He won’t even let me know his address or phone number.”

  Unable to think of a better response, I suggested, “Couldn’t you go back to work?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, right. I’m sure the world of high tech is chomping at the bit to hire a forty-three year old first-line manager. It’s fortunate that, between my husband’s life-insurance payoff and investments, I don’t need to work to survive.” She crossed her thick arms. “It was so much better and easier when Allison was alive. Then I had somebody else to blame. And to hate.”

  “Lois, take it from a woman who’s just been chased up a tree. Hang in there long enough, and things will turn around for you.”

  Before she could give some demoralizing response, I reached the front door and said, “Goodbye, Lois. I’ve got to head home.” And hug my children.

  Having lost my eagerness for shortcuts, I left by the front door and started walking down the block. At the end of Lois’s front walk, I did a double take at a sedan. The driver was either Professor Katherine Lindstrom or someone who happened to have an identical short auburn bob.

  Had Katherine seen me talking in Celia’s front yard and let the dogs out, hoping that they would attack me? That was such a stretch. Nobody could have guessed my decision to take a shortcut through Allison’s yard and beat me there with the dogs. Only Julie could have controlled those dogs that well, and she was either a very good actress or innocent. Maybe it was just a case of bad luck on my part.

  A car was slowing down right behind me. My heart started thumping. It was either an old friend who’d spotted me or, with my luck, some maniac who would be aiming an Uzi at my head.

  The car pulled up beside me. “Moll,” a familiar male voice called, “get in.”

  I sighed with relief. Tommy, in his rental Escort” was gesturing at me. I gladly eased myself into the passenger seat. “Where were you half an hour ago when I needed you?”

  “Uh-oh,” Tommy muttered. “Been gettin’ yourself in a fix again?”

  “I was nearly eaten alive by Dobermans.”

  He sighed, then signaled, pulled the car onto the shoulder, and set the emergency brake. “Come again?”

  “I was taking a shortcut across Allison’s yard, and Julie’s Dobermans were there. Julie says somebody opened her gate and let them out. I had to climb a tree. I might never be able to—”

  “Is Lauren okay?”

  “Lauren?” I repeated irritably. “She’s at my place, waiting for you to call. Not to be self-obsessed or anything, but somebody’s trying to kill me! That is, when they’re not busy trying to frame me for murder. I could use some help, you know.”

  Tommy blew out a slow breath. “What all do you need?”

  “A bodyguard, for one thing. I also need to know more about Katherine Lindstrom. Apparently she’s got a shady past.”

  Tommy nodded. “I had my people back in Carlton run some background checks on all the suspects. Your English lit professor used to teach at some little-known university in Massachusetts. Her name was Katherine Bennington then.”

  “Is it true that she used to be married to Julie Murphy’s brother?”

  He nodded. “Bennington was his last name. Thing is, though, she legally changed her name to Lindstrom. Prob’ly because of her criminal record. Seems your professor had quite a drug problem.”

  That was a surprise. She had such stuffy, affected mannerisms, it was hard to imagine she was once a druggie. And, come to think of it, this was the second time someone was said to have had a drug problem. Professor Katherine herself had claimed that Allison had a substance-abuse problem. “She has a criminal record as Katherine Bennington, I take it?”

  He nodded again. “She was into heroin.”

  “My God. How could she get hired at C.U. with that kind of a track record?”

  “Hard to say, My guess is she got herself cleaned up and maybe pulled some strings.”

  “I’m pretty certain I saw Katherine Lindstrom drive by here just a minute ago. She could have been in the neighborhood, spotted me, and tried to feed me to Julie’s dogs.”

  Tommy swiped a dot of perspiration off his brow. “Or, more likely, it don’t mean diddly. She lives just off Forty-seventh.”

  I glanced over my shoulder in the direction of Forty-seventh Street, trying to get my bearings. This had been a possible route for her to take back to her house, though not a direct one.

  “What makes you suspect her?” he asked.

  “If I had to give my best guess right now as to who locked Lauren and me in that sauna last night, I’d say Katherine. We’d just exchanged words, and she implied I should watch myself, or else.”

  “Implied it?”

  “Yes. I don’t recall her exact words, but there was a lot of menace there, believe me.”

  “And we gotta figure that the person who locked you in there also killed your friend. Right?”

  “Right.” I’d answered automatically, but now stopped to reconsider. “Actually, I wouldn’t want to risk my life on that assumption.” A shiver went down my spine at the thought of how close I’d come to having a Doberman’s jaw chomping me. “The thing is, we know whoever killed Allison also tried to frame me. Yet I’m not as viable a suspect now that the police know somebody locked me in that sauna. So it’s possible someone other than Allison’s killer wants me dead. But that’s a real stretch. My greeting card retreat wasn’t that bad.”

  “Depends on how many of your lectures they had to sit through,” Tommy said. “Tryin’ to off you while the police are investigating a murder would be unbelievably stupid, though.”

  “People do stupid things all the time. Such as insulting the best friend of the loved one you’re currently on the skids with.”

  He winced.

  “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t tease you about Lauren, except that I’m absolutely certain things will work out between you two.” He gave me a subject-is-closed glower. “So you have no idea who could’ve killed Allison, right?”

  “Right. But I do know this: Lois is slightly wacko and hated Allison for sleeping with her son, yet she also hoards things that belonged to Allison. Lois claims that Allison blabbed to her about something shady in Katherine Lindstrom’s past, maybe about her drug use. Katherine’s grad assistant warned me to stay away from Katherine, because she has a tendency to destroy her competition.” I cleared my throat, and went on with what else I knew about my greeting card retreatees. “Celia Wentworth used to be head-over-heels for Richard, Allison’s late ex-husband. She could have killed Allison to avenge his death. Julie and Nancy don’t seem to have any motive, but Julie keeps popping up in the nick of time, so there could be something there I haven’t discovered yet.”

  We sat in silence, then Tommy said, “Glad to see that, once again, you’re keepin’ a low profile ‘n’ allowin’ the police to do their jobs.”

  “Hey, you asked me if I knew who did it. I’m just giving you a complete answer.”

  Tommy released the parking brake. “Tell you what. I’ll drop
you off at home and go pay Katherine Lindstrom a visit.”

  “She’s only met you once. She won’t even talk to you.”

  “Good point. May as well stay out of this.”

  “Look, Tommy. We both know I’m going to talk to Katherine. So why don’t you save us both a lot of grief and take me with you now?”

  After some lame protestations, Tommy pulled over again. He whipped out a notepad onto which he’d scribbled addresses and phone numbers, and a cellular phone, which he explained he had rented yesterday. He claimed our incident in the mountains had convinced him to do so, but I’m sure his suddenly finding himself operating from a hotel room had something to do with the decision as well.

  Tommy dialed, and a moment later said, “Ms. Lindstrom?

  This is Sergeant Tommy Newton, Molly’s friend from New York.” After a pause, he said, “No, she’s fine now.” Again, he listened, smiled, and said, “You have no idea. In fact, she’s had another incident. She’s asked me to lend her some professional expertise. I was hoping we could stop by and ask you a couple questions.” Tommy then went on to say “Uh-huh”three times, then thanked her, hung up, and pulled a U-turn to head toward Katherine’s house.

  “Aren’t you going to call Lauren?” I asked.

  “Maybe later. Not while I’m driving.”

  I snatched the phone and dialed my home. Jim answered, and I explained how I was with Tommy and would be home in an hour or so; then I asked for Lauren. As soon as she was on the line, I said, “I’m in Tommy’s car.”

  “What are you doing in his car?”

  “He ran into me on my walk. Not literally, though. I think he was circling the house, looking for you.”

  Tommy glared at me. I told her to call Tommy’s cell if she needed to reach me, because I’d left mine at the house. Fortunately. Now I’d given Lauren a good excuse for her to call Tommy, if she was so inclined.

  “Where are you going?” Lauren asked.

  “He’s taking me over to Katherine Lindstrom’s house, though I didn’t exactly tell Jim that, in so many words.”