Death in a Difficult Position

by Diana Killian

  Had this been what she’d seen in the abandoned house in the woods? Was Lance Dally the Jersey Devil? Who was walking around upstairs? Had Dally shot at the Sacred Balance students? Her thoughts tumbled over and over one another, and all the while she listened to that soft, steady approach of footsteps.

  The door at the head of the basement steps swung open, hinges creaking spookily.

  “Anna? Are you down there?”

  She’d recognize that hiss anywhere. A.J. rose. She could just make out the slight figure in black at the top of the stairs. Elysia blended in nicely with the shadows. Nothing went with a life of crime like basic black.

  “Mother, what on earth are you doing here?”

  Elysia jumped, but instantly regained her poise. “I might ask you the same question.”

  “I’m here looking for you.”

  “I’m collecting the evidence I need to prove Dean’s innocence.”

  A.J. quickly climbed the stairs. “Didn’t you get my phone message? You don’t need to prove his innocence. I already know Dean isn’t involved.”

  “Very heartwarming, I’m sure. But what about the rest of the world?”

  “I already told you. Did you not pick up your messages?”

  “I put the ruddy thing on vibrate. Didn’t want to take a chance of getting nicked when it went off at the wrong moment.”

  “Well, if you’d bothered to check your messages, you’d have heard me telling you that this stunt was totally unnecessary. I know how to crack Lance’s alibi.”

  But Elysia was staring past her. “What on earth . . .” She moved past A.J. and went down the stairs to the red costume.

  “Bloody hell,” she breathed. Wide-eyed, she met A.J.’s gaze. “Is this what I think it is?”

  A.J. nodded.

  “Of course,” Elysia said to herself. “Makes perfect sense, I suppose. The reverend found out what Dally was up to and threatened to expose him. Dally had to kill him.”

  “It doesn’t make perfect sense. To start with, why would Dally be impersonating the Jersey Devil?”

  “Because it makes a fabulous story, and he’s in the fabulous story business.”

  “But his newspaper isn’t that kind of paper. Anyway, he was already doing an exposé on Goode. That seems like all the fabulous story anyone would need.”

  Elysia shrugged. “Who can know the workings of the criminal mind? The main thing is, we have the proof right here.”

  A.J. studied the misshapen horse head. Yes, they did have proof of . . . something. What?

  Elysia said with satisfaction, “Now all we have to do is set a trap for Dally.”

  A.J.’s head snapped up. “No, we don’t. We don’t need to set any trap. The fact that Dally rides a bike is enough for the police to take another, closer look at him. That, and the fact that he has this thing hanging here—although I suppose he could always claim someone planted it. But if he’s ever worn it, there will be DNA.”

  Elysia was following her own train of thought. “Rides a bike . . .” Her frown faded and her eyes lit. “Yes. I see. That’s how you plan to break his alibi. Oh very good, Anna!”

  “I’m glad you’re pleased. Now let’s get out of here.”

  “Get out of here?” Elysia looked taken aback. “We still have to find evidence that Dally and Oriel Goode were having an affair.”

  “For the last time, they weren’t having an affair.”

  “You what? But of course they were having an affair. What else would his motive be? You’ve just said he didn’t kill Goode over Goode’s discovery that Dally was impersonating this devil creature. Right. But he had to have some reason for sticking that pen into the good reverend.”

  “I don’t know what the motive was. It doesn’t matter, though. We’ve got enough here to prove Lily wasn’t involved. That’s the only thing I care about. The rest of it is for the police to deal with.”

  Elysia tilted her head, studying A.J. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

  “I’ll tell you when we’re safely out of here.” A.J. had hold of her mother’s arm and was trying to usher her to the exterior basement door.

  Elysia freed herself. “D’you mind, darling? You’ve a grip like a stevedore. I never realized yoga was a contact sport.”

  “Mother, we need to get out of here before someone calls the police. Before we can call the police, I mean.”

  “I can’t leave without my jacket.”

  A.J. looked at her with disbelief. “What jacket?”

  “My Tommy Hilfiger leather jacket. Never mind the fact it cost me three hundred quid, it’s got my DNA all over it.”

  “Mother.”

  “Besides,” Elysia said with aggravating calm, “if Dally finds that jacket—and he can’t miss it—he’ll know that someone has been snooping around and he’ll get rid of every bit of evidence before your precious inspector can get his search warrant together.”

  “Where did you leave this jacket?”

  “In the bedroom. I was searching for love letters.”

  “I’ll get it. You get in your car.”

  “It’ll be faster if I get it.”

  A.J. looked heavenward for guidance, gave up arguing, and sprinted up the staircase. She could hear her mother following leisurely in her kitten heels. Yes. B&E in heels, black leather jeans, and a cashmere turtleneck. Elysia must be channeling Honey West this week.

  The basement opened onto a kitchen. A.J. had a brief impression of old-fashioned appliances and gingham curtains and then she was in the hall, looking for the bedroom.

  The hall ended in a long living room with hardwood floors, built-in cabinets, and walk-in bay windows. A.J. did an about-face and started back the other way, past a bathroom with a marble-topped cherry vanity, and a large dining room with no furniture.

  Her cell phone vibrated and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She snatched it up without looking to see the number.

  “Jake?”

  “It’s me,” Suze replied buoyantly. “A.J., I had to tell you. Mocha sent a Thanksgiving basket to the studio. It’s full of fruit and flowers and it’s got this great big felt turkey with the funniest face. And there’s the sweetest thank-you card. It’s addressed to all of us. She says—”

  “Suze, that’s great. It’s totally a credit to you and Jaci. Can you call Jake?”

  “Can I . . . huh?”

  “Can you call the police department and try to get hold of Jake? I called earlier but he hasn’t called me back. I really need to talk to him. I’m over at Lance Dally’s house.”

  “Why?”

  “Long story.” There were two staircases, one front, one back, leading to the second floor. A.J. started up the front staircase. “Can you tell Jake to get over here?”

  “To get over to Lance Dally’s house?”

  “Right.” A.J. reached the second floor. Another staircase led up to the attic. She eyed it uneasily. God only knew what Dally might have hidden in there.

  “Sure,” Suze said doubtfully. “I’ll tell Jake. What time are you coming back to the studio?”

  “Er, soon. I hope.” A.J. hurried down the narrow hall past a family room, a bedroom that had been turned into an office, and came at last to a large master bedroom. Elysia’s black leather jacket was lying on the blue chenille bedspread.

  “Okay. See you then.”

  “See you.” A.J. dropped her phone in her coat pocket, snatched up Elysia’s jacket, and ran down the hallway. She was starting downstairs when she heard the front door open.

  A.J. froze. She looked across and saw Elysia on the back staircase also motionless and listening.

  For an instant the rushing of blood to her head kept her from hearing where the intruder was. She heard a cabinet open. She looked at Elysia. Elysia sat down on the steps, making herself as small as possible in the shadows. There was just a chance she might get away with it. Anyone coming in would go automatically to the front staircase in order to go upstairs.

  The front staircase
where A.J. currently stood frozen in place like a misplaced lawn ornament.

  A.J. heard a drawer slide open and a rattling sound. What was the intruder searching for?

  Oh wait. She was the intruder.

  A.J. took a cautious, careful step backward. If she could get back upstairs and down the hall, she might be able to get to the back staircase, too, and then they could make a try for the mud porch entrance. Or perhaps she could hide in one of the rooms until Jake or the police showed up.

  She inched back and up another step.

  A floorboard squeaked. A.J. looked down. A shadow fell across the wooden planks in the hall below. Lance Dally stepped into view. He gazed up at her for a long moment.

  A.J. gazed back though her attention was focused not so much on Lance as the rifle he held. It was pointed straight at her.

  Twenty-three

  “Come down.” Lance’s voice was flat.

  A.J. found her voice. She tried to say with confidence, “I’ve already called the police.”

  “Really? Did they get caught in traffic?” Lance called to Elysia, “You, too. I see you crouched down over there. Get down here.”

  Elysia rose and, with surprising dignity for a woman who had just been discovered cowering behind the banisters, started slowly down the stairs. A.J. said, “Lance, shooting us would be incredibly stupid. There’s no way you could explain it.”

  “It would be,” Lance agreed. “And you wouldn’t enjoy it much either. I suggest you don’t force me to pull the trigger.” As Elysia reached the bottom, he glanced at her. His brows rose. “Who are you supposed to be? Diana Rigg?”

  Elysia made a very British and very rude gesture.

  Lance looked briefly taken aback. His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I know you.”

  Was it the vulgar gesture that gave her away? A nervous laugh nearly escaped A.J. She swallowed it and said with a semblance of calm she didn’t feel, “How did you know we were here?”

  “My neighbor called to tell me the star of Golden Gumshoes was running around my yard, peeking in my windows and trying my doors. It wasn’t hard to put it together with the two phone calls this morning asking for Oriel. Obviously someone was hoping I wouldn’t be home today.” He gestured with the rifle. “Get down here. I won’t ask nicely again.”

  Elysia said briskly, “Since you’re obviously going to kill us, you might as well tell us everything.”

  Lance laughed. “Really?”

  “Yes,” Elysia stated as though it had been a genuine question. “Granted, we’ve already figured most of it out ourselves. We know you cycled across town to kill the Reverend Goode and then cycled back here.”

  “Big deal. I don’t know how that escaped anyone’s attention as long as it did. It doesn’t prove anything. The fact that I could have biked across town doesn’t mean I did. No one saw me.”

  “So you think.”

  “I don’t think. I know. Where are the witnesses? There aren’t any. No one pays attention to cyclists—except as a traffic nuisance.”

  “We know you were the one who shot at my group in the woods,” A.J. interjected.

  “How do you figure that?” Lance asked.

  “Well, first clue is you’re pointing a rifle at us.”

  He snorted. “You’re kidding, right? Every other person in this hick town owns a gun of some kind.”

  “But I bet every other person in town doesn’t have a gun with ballistics that match yours.”

  He shrugged.

  “The only thing we don’t know,” Elysia said, with a glance at A.J., “is why you did it. Was it because of your affair with Oriel? Or because you wanted to avenge Jill?”

  “Jill? What are you talking about? Who’s Jill?”

  “Jill Smithy-Powell,” A.J. said.

  “Oh. No.” Lance blew out a long, unsteady breath. “Can you believe that? All those months I was working for that ass, building my story, and he turns out to be on the FBI’s wish list.”

  “So then it was the affair with Oriel,” Elysia said. She couldn’t help a triumphant look in A.J.’s direction.

  “Lady, what are you smoking? No, it wasn’t an affair with Oriel. She’s practically old enough to be my mother.”

  That annoyed Elysia no end. “Then why did you kill Goode?” she demanded. “What was the motive?”

  Lance’s face tightened to bones and hollows. “I didn’t have a motive. It wasn’t planned. It was . . . mostly an accident.”

  A.J.’s cell phone, tucked in her pocket, vibrated again. She surreptitiously reached her hand in as Elysia said with hauteur, “Like this, I suppose?”

  Lance’s face darkened. “No. Not like this. This isn’t what I wanted, but . . . it’s out of my control now.”

  A.J. felt the face of her phone and pressed what she hoped was the flat incoming call button. “That’s not true,” she told Lance. “There’s a big difference between killing someone in the heat of a fight and cold-bloodedly, deliberately murdering two people to conceal the first crime. You know that.”

  “What I know is, I’ve told you to get down here three times. If you don’t come down now, I’m going to hit Her Majesty in the head with my rifle butt.”

  A.J. didn’t fail to note that Lance did not say shoot. She began to suspect that one reason he hadn’t hit anyone when he fired on their group in the woods was because his heart wasn’t completely committed to murder.

  A.J. slowly walked down two more steps. “What did you and Goode fight about if it wasn’t anything to do with his past? Why did he fire you?”

  “He fired me because he found out I was a reporter and I was gathering enough information on him to put him out of business permanently.”

  “Why would that matter to you?”

  “It didn’t. Except . . .”

  “Except what?”

  “In order to get the goods on him, I had to go along with a couple of things that I probably shouldn’t have gone along with.”

  “I knew it!” Elysia exclaimed. “Didn’t I say this from the beginning?” She looked from Lance to A.J.

  Neither Lance nor A.J. responded. A.J. was thinking of the costume in Lance’s cellar. “You mean you went along with things like impersonating the Jersey Devil?”

  “No. That is . . .”

  “Yes,” Elysia said uncompromisingly.

  Lance’s face twisted. “Yes, have it your way. That and other things. It’s a fine line between covering the news and becoming part of it.”

  Let alone fabricating it. But A.J. knew enough to keep her mouth shut. “So Goode threatened to reveal your part in the Jersey Devil hoax?”

  “My part?” Lance grew indignant. “He was going to claim that the whole idea was mine. That I’d come up with it to discredit him, that he knew nothing about it. That when I couldn’t come up with a legitimate story, I resorted to smear tactics and fabricating my facts. It was crazy, but I’d seen him in action. I knew how persuasive he was. And I had let myself get in too deep.” He stopped.

  A.J. said, “John Baumann’s cows.”

  “I didn’t touch those cows, but . . . I was there. I saw Goode slaughter them. It was the most sickening thing I ever saw. But afterward I helped him rig that scene to look like a wild animal attacked them. I had to do it to preserve my cover. I didn’t have a choice, but it made me an accessory.”

  “You were an accessory to killing a cow. That was certainly preferable to being guilty of murder,” Elysia said.

  “I know! I didn’t mean to kill him. I didn’t even intend to talk to him that morning. I was out riding, clearing my head, and I decided to stop by the church and talk to him. See if I could . . . I don’t know. Defuse the situation. I didn’t want to be involved in a huge lawsuit and I knew what my editor would think of some of the things I’d done in pursuit of my story. So I thought I’d try to talk to him, reason with him. Maybe strike a compromise.”

  Movement outside the bay windows caught A.J.’s attention. Her heart leapt in relief. The police. It ha
d to be the police. The cavalry had arrived.

  Lance was saying, “But Goode was worse than he’d been the day before. His ego couldn’t take the idea that he was going to be exposed as a fraud. He was ranting and raving about my betrayal. He called me a Judas. He attacked me. Physically, I mean. He grabbed me and, I’m telling you, there was murder in his face. It was there. I’ve never seen any human want to kill anyone as much as he wanted to kill me. And he would have. But I grabbed the pen off his desk and I jammed it as hard as I could in his throat.”

  “Then it was self-defense,” A.J. said. “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “Because I’m a reporter! I know how it works. I’d have been ruined. Everything would have had to come out. Everything I worked for would be lost.”

  “As opposed to now?” Elysia inquired.

  At the same time, A.J. said, “Is your career really worth committing murder? Why did you try to kill Oriel?”

  The rifle wavered for an instant. “I didn’t know how much she knew, how much Goode had told her. At first I thought I was safe. She apologized for suspecting me of murder and asked me to stay on for a while at the church office. I thought it would be smart to hang around long enough to make sure I’d covered my tracks with the police. Then she started acting funny. I think she’d begun to suspect me. But I couldn’t be sure. I decided the only thing to do was make it look like it was some antireligious nut out to destroy the church.”

  “Completely the wrong approach!” Elysia objected. “What you should have done wa—”

  But Lance would never know how a criminal mastermind would have handled his situation because the front door crashed open, hinges shrieking, doorframe splintering. The whole house seemed to shake as uniformed officers burst into the living room.

  Lance turned, bringing his rifle up, but he was knocked to the floor before he could fire. He went down under a pile of uniformed law enforcement. His muffled curses could be heard beneath the shouted warnings to not move a muscle.

  Elysia sagged back against the wall. “It’s about bloody time!” Her irritation faded in the wake of the attentive young officers rushing to her side.