by Bell, Cindy
“That may all be true, Vicky,” he said calmly as he studied her with a hint of resentment for the trouble that she was putting him through. “But what you don't understand is that even the rumor of me being involved in my son's death would ruin me. It would ruin the reputation of my entire family,” he added and then sighed as he leaned against the wall of the shed. “And really, how is that fair?” he asked as he tilted his head to the side and studied her. “I mean, do we all have to suffer because of Simon's screw up?”
“It wasn't Simon's fault,” Vicky growled with frustration. “If you're going to kill me, fine, but there is no excuse you can use to justify killing me. Just as there is no excuse you can use to justify killing your own son.”
“Simon was a good kid,” Lawrence admitted with a mild shrug. “He had a lot of potential, and a lot of spirit. But he had terrible taste in women. If he had simply listened to me, then he might have saved his own life. I warned him against Jane. When he refused to comply with breaking up with her, I started an affair with her, with the purpose of showing Simon just how foolish he was being.”
“I bet you were very proud of yourself,” Vicky said quietly. “Did you know that Mike knew about your little fling with your future daughter-in-law?”
“Mike knows?” Lawrence asked with surprise. “Well, that's one juicy tidbit that I didn't know about. Maybe your nosiness came in handy after all. I bet Mike wasn't too happy about it,” he chuckled. “No, I'm sure he wasn't. Mike always babied Simon.”
“You mean raised him?” Vicky pointed out. “That's why he and Mike were arguing, because Mike knew about the affair and couldn't bring himself to tell the truth about who Jane was having an affair with. You know, I think the strangest part of this entire story is that your sons loved you, in spite of who you are.”
“And Mike still does,” Lawrence pointed out. “And he always will as long as you never have the chance to tell the truth.”
Vicky braced herself for what she knew would come next. She was certain that there was only one thing loud and strange enough to alert someone to her predicament. But getting her hands on it was going to be very difficult. Luckily she spotted something that Lawrence wasn't paying any attention to. It was a large metal rake, and it was leaning across a stack of old pots. The end of the handle was just close enough to Vicky that she could step on the end of it. She waited until Lawrence raised the gun again. Then she stepped hard on the handle, sending the metal rake up into the air. It smacked Lawrence hard in the elbow of the arm that was holding the gun.
“Ouch,” he yelped and jerked his arm upward as Vicky had hoped he would. As his hand jerked upward the gun went off, very loudly. Lawrence got control of the gun and glared at Vicky.
“Wrong move,” he growled at her and then pointed to a piece of landscaping wood. “Sit down,” he commanded her. “Your little stunt won't get you anywhere. No one is going to think much about one gunshot. They'll think it was a car backfiring, or someone playing with fireworks. No one is going to come looking for you,” he insisted as Vicky reluctantly sat down. “So, now you and I, we're going to wait here until it gets dark. Then I can shoot you and bury you, and be ready for my flight home tomorrow.”
“I wouldn't count on it,” Vicky countered, her eyes narrowed as she met his gaze boldly. She wasn't going to allow him to frighten her, even though she couldn't stop her heart from racing.
Chapter Eight
The shot that rang out over the manicured grounds of the inn was not one that could be easily dismissed. Not when someone who lived in the inn had started her very own murder-mystery book club. As soon as Ida heard it, she gasped. She looked over at Wilbur whose eyes had widened. They had been inside the inn for about five minutes looking for Vicky after Lawrence had indicated that she needed to speak with them. But there was no sign of her, other than her purse and phone being behind the front desk.
When Ida heard the shot ring out her stomach churned. She hoped that it had nothing to do with Vicky, but deep down she knew it did. As she started to walk towards the sound, her cell phone began to ring. She still had a hard time managing the thing, but now at least she could tell that it was Mitchell calling.
“Ida, I'm so sorry if I disturbed you, I've been calling Vicky for the past fifteen minutes and she hasn't answered. I just wanted to make sure she was safe.”
“Oh dear, Mitchell, I don't think she is,” Ida replied in a shaky voice. “I believe I just heard a gunshot.”
“A gunshot?” Mitchell asked with surprise. “Ida, stay where you are, I'll be there in a few minutes.” Aunt Ida agreed but she had no intention of staying put. She knew that Vicky needed her help.
“Wilbur, will you do me a favor?” she asked as she turned to look at the man who was quickly becoming a close friend.
“Anything for you, Ida,” he replied with a soft smile.
“Will you please wait here for Mitchell? I don't want him to be worried if he arrives and can't find us,” she explained.
“Sure,” he nodded and then hesitated. “But Ida, make sure you don't get yourself into any kind of trouble.”
“Oh honey,” Ida smiled as she kissed his cheek swiftly. “It's trouble that needs to look out for me.”
As she walked out of the lobby towards the garden, she wondered where exactly the gunshot had come from. She had initially heard it inside the inn so it was hard to place. What wasn't hard to place was the garden shed being closed and locked. The new gardener was a bit of a slob, and not very good at remembering to lock up the shed. It certainly struck Ida as odd that it would be locked. As she stepped closer to it she could hear voices inside. She was relieved to hear Vicky’s voice but she could tell by the tone of it that she was in trouble. Ida looked for the key to the padlock, but it was nowhere to be found.
“You'll never get away with this,” she heard Vicky growl from inside the shed.
“That's where you're wrong,” Lawrence chuckled in response, and then growled his words. “I already have.” Aunt Ida was shocked to discover it was Lawrence Carter holding Vicky in the shed, but she didn't allow that revelation to distract her. She had to find a way to get Vicky out of that shed.
Ida crept up to the side of the shed. There was a window that was closed on that side of the shed. She rose up on her toes and peered through it. She could see Vicky towards the back of the shed, and Lawrence towering over her. Then she noticed the gun in his hand. So, that was where the gunshot had come from. Aunt Ida shuddered at the idea of Vicky being held at gunpoint.
Ida looked around for something she might be able to use as a weapon. She spotted a trowel laying on the ground beside the shed and for once was grateful for the gardener's disregard for cleaning up his tools. She picked up the trowel and then walked up to the window. It was just slightly higher than her line of sight. She reluctantly tipped over a clay flower pot that was filled with daffodils into a bucket that was filled with water. “Sorry for the drowning,” she said to the daffodils and then she climbed on top of the clay pot.
Aunt Ida was high enough then to open the window slightly. She opened it just far enough that it wouldn't be noticed by those inside the shed. She didn't want to alert Lawrence to her presence and have him do something to hurt Vicky before she could protect her. She aimed the trowel carefully at the back of the man's head. Then, using all of her might she flung it towards the back of his head. Lawrence gasped in pain when the metal trowel struck his head. He reached up and knocked the cap off he was wearing. He grasped the back of his head and groaned in pain.
Vicky moved quickly and snatched up a nearby shovel. She swung it hard against Lawrence's head. Lawrence cried out in pain again and stumbled backwards. He tripped over a pile of bags filled with fertilizer and fell backwards landing hard on his back. In the same moment Aunt Ida climbed through the window and into the shed. She jumped down into the shed just in time to see Lawrence fall.
“Good shot, Vicky,” she said with genuine admiration.
“Than
ks,” Vicky winced as she kicked the gun from Lawrence's hand. He was not quite out cold, but he was dazed. She carefully picked up the gun off the floor and then looked at Aunt Ida with relief.
“Let's get out of here,” Ida said quickly and turned back to the window. But as she had climbed inside she had knocked it out of place with her foot. It had fallen closed. When she tried to open it again it was jammed.
“It's stuck,” Aunt Ida growled. Vicky joined her in trying to pry the window up but it wouldn't budge.
“We can just break it,” Vicky suggested and picked up the trowel that had fallen on the floor. She struck the glass hard with it, but it didn't even leave a scratch.
“It's no use,” Aunt Ida sighed and then looked towards the door of the shed. “Let's see if we can get the door to bend open far enough.”
Both she and Vicky pushed hard on the door. But it wouldn't budge even an inch. Aunt Ida stopped to think as Vicky continued to shove against the door.
“Oh no,” Vicky frowned as she pushed hard against the door of the shed. “There's no way out of here!”
“Vicky?” a familiar voice called out from outside the shed. “Are you in there?”
“I'm in here,” Vicky called back as she pounded on the door. “It's locked. We can't get out. Lawrence is in here with us, he's the one that killed Simon!”
“Don't worry, I'm here,” Mitchell said quickly and tugged at the door of the shed.
“That's it, I've had enough,” Lawrence gasped as he regained his senses. Only then did Vicky realize she had made the grave mistake of leaving the shovel beside the man. As she turned around she saw him swinging the shovel down towards Aunt Ida's head.
“No!” Vicky shouted and raised the gun to shoot at Lawrence but before she could he struck her hand with the shovel, knocking the gun out of her grasp.
Mitchell could hear the struggle from outside and was determined to get inside to protect Vicky and Ida. Mitchell leaned his weight against the door of the shed. He could feel it give enough that he knew he would be able to get inside with one well-aimed bullet. But he had to be cautious because Ida and Vicky were inside. Inside the shed Vicky and Lawrence were both scrambling for the gun that had skidded across the floor. Lawrence got to the gun first and grasped it tightly.
“Vicky?” Mitchell called through the door. “Vicky can you hear me?” he shouted again.
“Yes,” she growled as she tried to bend Lawrence's hand backwards far enough to force him to release the gun while Aunt Ida climbed on his back trying to wrestle him to the ground. Her arms and legs wrapped around him.
“Stand back,” Mitchell commanded from outside the shed. Aunt Ida managed to get Lawrence to the ground and then the three continued to wrestle for the gun. Aunt Ida reached out and grabbed a handful of fertilizer from an open bag. Then she flung it into Lawrence's face.
“Ugh,” he sputtered and lost focus on the weapon for a moment. Vicky managed to get the gun from his hand but as she started to stand up, Lawrence grabbed the shovel again. Before she could say a word about it Mitchell had fired a bullet through the locking mechanism on the door.
“Mitchell, watch out!” Vicky cried out in an attempt to warn him about Lawrence and the shovel. Mitchell slammed his weight into the door and it sprung inward just in time to strike the shovel that Lawrence was raising, and knock it backwards into his own face.
“Ow,” Lawrence groaned as he sunk down to his knees and held his nose which had been hit by the door. Mitchell immediately wrenched the shovel from his grasp and tossed it aside. He pinned Lawrence to the ground, handcuffed him, and read him his rights. As Vicky watched his sharp and well-practiced movements, she was reminded of just how good he was at his job. If he hadn't shown up at that exact moment, who knew what might have happened. Lawrence certainly had no intention of ever letting them out of the shed alive.
“Thank you, Mitchell,” Aunt Ida said quickly, covering Vicky's silence as she stared at him. “I would have managed to take him out soon enough though.”
Mitchell pulled Lawrence to his feet. He didn't spare the man a single glance as he guided him out of the shed, but his eyes did lock briefly on Vicky's. Vicky held his gaze in return, and he searched her green eyes until he was satisfied that she was okay, before he pushed Lawrence out of the shed. Vicky felt her heart flutter as he walked out the door. She had so much that she wanted to say, but wasn't quite sure how to say it. As Mitchell walked Lawrence down the path, around the pool, and back towards the inn, the older man began to speak.
“He was going to ruin everything,” he muttered with absolute disdain. “He was going to give his fortune, my fortune, away to some girl,” he growled in disgust.
“Some girl?” Jane snapped as she stood between Lawrence, Mitchell, and the inn. “Is that what you're going to say?” she asked with tears in her eyes. She must have overheard some of the commotion and had come outside to see what was happening. “You were the one who came to me, Lawrence. You seduced me, you told me that you loved me! You said that Simon was sleeping around, that he didn't know how to value a real good woman. You put so many horrible thoughts into my head,” she sighed as she wiped at her eyes. “But it was my own fault for believing them.”
“I just wanted to prove to my son what a whore you really were,” Lawrence sneered and then raked his eyes across her from top to bottom. “The worst part is, even when I told him what you and I had been doing, he still came to your defense. Claimed that I must have forced you, or manipulated you. I never did understand that boy. I guess all of Mike's babying of him finally ruined him,” he shook his head as Mitchell gave him a firm shove towards the sidewalk that led to the parking lot.
“Well, you'll have plenty of time to think about it,” Mitchell promised as he walked him the rest of the way to the police car that was waiting. Vicky and Ida followed after him, with Jane trailing a few steps behind. As Mitchell pressed his hand to the top of Lawrence's head to help guide him into the back seat of the car, a crowd began to gather outside the inn. It was Mike, and his wife, along with his cousins and their husbands. Lawrence's brother and his wife were also there. Alina was the last to step outside. Alina turned to face Jane and narrowed her eyes as she studied her.
“Well, how do you feel now, Jane?” Alina asked. “You still want to act like you're better than me?” Jane glanced away as a blush rose in her cheeks. It was clear that she was troubled by how things had unfolded. “Maybe now you'll know better than to fall in love with a man who has only ever loved money,” Alina smirked and shook her head as she studied Lawrence with absolute disgust.
“Why are you arresting him?” Mike shouted as he approached the police car. “What are you doing? Do you have any idea who my father is?”
“I know exactly who he is,” Mitchell replied as he turned to look at Mike. His shoulders spread and his chest puffed out as he waited to see if Mike was going to become violent. “Your father is under arrest for murder,” he said sternly. “The murder of Simon Carter.”
“What?” Mike gasped his eyes wide. “Dad?” he peered into the police car, but Lawrence refused to look at him. “Dad! Tell him it's not true,” he demanded. “You would never hurt Simon. You wouldn't, would you?” he pleaded, and despite the fact that he was a grown man it sounded as if he was begging his father as a child would. “You didn't do this, did you?” he murmured as Charlene walked up behind him and gently placed a hand on his back.
“Mike, let him be,” she coaxed him.
“No,” he cried out in a strangled voice. “I want him to tell me the truth! I know he was sleeping with Jane, and I know that was bad, but murder, Dad? Did you really kill your own son?”
Lawrence kept his head turned away from his only remaining son. His nieces were gasping and whispering to one another as well as to their spouses. It was obvious that none of them had ever expected that Lawrence could be capable of something like this. Mitchell closed the door to the police car and looked at the group of people gathered toget
her.
“They’re going to take him down to the station. If any of you know his lawyer, it would be best that you contact him.” They all watched as Lawrence was driven away in the police car, leaving Mitchell standing in the parking lot.
Mike hung his head as Charlene slid her arm fully around his waist. She held tightly to him as she guided him inside.
“I can't believe he did this,” Mike said quietly as he looked up at his cousins and uncle. “I still just can't believe it.”
“I can,” Alina muttered as she followed them inside. “A man who only respects money doesn't know the value of his own child.”
Jane remained outside, her hands shifting from her pockets to being clasped behind her back, as if she had no idea what to do with them. She looked so sad with her mascara streaked across her cheeks, her eyes puffy from crying, and her expression dazed with shock.
“I never thought he would kill him,” Jane whispered more to herself than anyone else. “How could I have been so foolish?”
“Are you okay, Jane?” Vicky asked as she walked towards her. Aunt Ida was talking quietly to Mitchell. Vicky had sympathy for Jane even though she had been having an affair with Lawrence, she had still lost the man who actually loved her.
“It was my fault,” Jane whispered, her shoulders trembling with tears that had not fallen. “Lawrence convinced me that Simon didn't really love me. He said he was just marrying for looks, that Simon had insisted on a pre-nuptial to make sure I wouldn't get anything. He warned me that in ten years Simon would be trading me in for a younger model, just like Lawrence had his first wife. I didn't believe him at first, I loved Simon so much, but the more he told me these things, the more I guess, I just couldn't imagine someone like Simon actually being in love with me. I can't believe I believed Lawrence,” she groaned and closed her eyes.
“Now, you know that what Lawrence said was not true,” Vicky said quietly as she reached out to gently touch the woman's shoulder. “Simon did love you, and he wanted you to have everything he could offer you. But it was not your fault that he died. That was Lawrence's choice to commit such a horrible act.”