Stay Sharpe Box Set

by Lisa B. Thomas

  “Mrs. Sharpe!” Guttman roared. “You’re not helping.” He heaved a sigh. “Linndorf, go to your office and stay there until I call you. Do some paperwork. I’ll deal with you later.”

  Linndorf put his hat back on his head, opened the door, and looked back at Deena. “You’re a real smart lady. You should have been a cop.”

  “Thanks,” Deena said awkwardly. She felt a little sorry for the guy since he was probably about to be fired. Hopefully, Ian wouldn’t end up hiring him to replace her as an investigator.

  As the officer stood there, he shook his head. “You know, I can see how you found out that I was having an affair with Allison, but what I can’t figure out is how you knew I staged the crime scene to look like a suicide.” With that, he walked out and closed the door behind him.

  * * *

  FOR A MOMENT, GUTTMAN and Deena just stared at each other. Then Guttman stood up and yelled, “Linndorf! Get back in here!”

  The officer returned looking more hopeless than before. He held out his hands. “What did I do now?”

  “Explain yourself.”

  Linndorf shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Like I said. I thought Allison was cute. She had a smokin’ hot body—”

  “Not that!” Guttman looked as though the veins on his head would burst any minute. “What do you mean you staged the crime scene to look like a suicide?”

  “I thought I told you,” he said. Then to Deena, “I thought she told you.”

  Deena pressed her lips together and stared wide-eyed. She was afraid if she said the wrong thing, Guttman might have a coronary right there at his desk. She wondered where they kept the defibrillator just in case.

  Guttman plopped back in his chair, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his top shirt button the way Dan did the other day.

  “Let’s all just sit down and figure this out.” Guttman forced a smile and waved his arm for Linndorf to sit in the chair next to Deena.

  “Thanks,” Linndorf said. “My feet were killing me.”

  “Are you comfortable now?” Guttman asked with exaggerated sarcasm. “Can I get you anything to drink? Something to eat?”

  Linndorf didn’t get it. “Actually, I could use—”

  “Shut up! I have a mind to call the DA right now and have him lock you up and throw away the key.”

  A stare-down between the two men ensued, with neither seeming to budge. Deena decided to give it a try. “Officer Linndorf—Larry—why don’t you tell us exactly what happened that night you found Drew dead.”

  He turned to her and nodded. “I got the call, recognized the address, and headed right over. When I went in, the victim was laying on the bed with what looked like a gunshot wound to the head. Nothing was out of place, so I could tell it hadn’t been a robbery. I saw the gun in a chair in the corner of the room. I panicked.” He looked down at his hands.

  “Why?” Deena asked. “What did you do next?”

  “I closed the blinds so no one could see me—the bedroom was on the side of the house. I didn’t want that lady next door and her husband to see what I was doing. I wiped down the gun with a bathroom towel, then pressed it in the victim’s hand to get his fingerprints. Then I laid it next to him on the bed. I learned during my police training that some people do that. It worked perfectly, all right.”

  Guttman took notes the whole time even though he had turned on a small tape recorder. It was probably his way of keeping his emotions under control. Without looking up he asked, “And how long was it until Hitchcock arrived?”

  “Four, maybe five minutes.”

  “What did you tell Hitch? Was he in on this with you?”

  Linndorf sat up straight. “No, sir. He didn’t know anything about it.”

  Guttman glared at him. “And now for the sixty-five thousand dollar question. Why?”

  Linndorf squinted his eyes. “You mean, why didn’t I tell Hitch what I did?”

  “No,” Deena said, intervening before Guttman went ballistic. “Why did you stage the scene to look like a suicide? Were you trying to protect someone?”

  “You bet I was.”

  After a pause, she asked, “Who?”

  “Myself, that’s who. It was my fault he was dead. I never should have let it get that far. I’ll know better next time, that’s for sure.”

  Deena felt her last nerve start to catch fire. “Larry, who did you think shot and killed Andrew Granger?”

  “Oh, I thought you’d figured it out. Allison, of course. I didn’t want her to go to prison and drag me down with her. She wanted me to marry her. Told me she was pregnant. The last thing I wanted was to end up married to a jailbird and have to raise a kid. I know it was wrong, but now that you know, I guess you should go ahead and arrest her.” He looked up at the detective.

  “Um, just one problem with that, Einstein. You destroyed the evidence!” This time Guttman actually came out of his chair as he yelled.

  “But it was obvious. It was Andrew’s gun and it was in her house. She shot him right before she headed to the motel to meet me for...well, you know.”

  Guttman looked at Deena, his eyes pleading for someone with a little common sense to intervene.

  She turned back to Linndorf. “Larry, you wiped the fingerprints off the gun. Now you can’t prove who they belong to. Unless she confesses, you have no case.”

  “She didn’t have to confess. I told her after the funeral that I couldn’t see her again. It was pretty obvious she knew what she’d done. She said, ‘So it was for nothing.’ I said, ‘That’s right.’ Then I left.”

  Guttman rubbed his forehead with his hand, and spoke slowly through gritted teeth. “Look, Linndorf, I want you to go lock yourself in the holding cage until I figure out what to do with you. Give your keys to the guard.”

  Linndorf gave him a hang-dog look and started toward the door.

  “Give me your gun first.” Guttman held out his hand.

  Linndorf did as directed and closed the door behind him as he left.

  “Do you really think he’ll do it?” Deena asked.

  “Of course. He’s the dumbest officer on the force.”

  “So, what now?” She empathized with the position Guttman had found himself in.

  “I need a favor. I need you to give me twenty-four hours before you put anything in the paper. I know it’s a big story, but I need this. I’ll owe you.”

  Deena shifted in her chair. “Do you really think Allison killed her husband?”

  “I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’ve got a lot of people to talk to. It’s going to take hard work to prove a circumstantial case toward whoever committed this crime. The one thing I have working in my favor is the element of surprise. If you publish the news that it was definitely a homicide, I lose that.”

  “I understand. I’ll wait until tomorrow, but that’s it. I don’t want it to look like I was involved in a cover-up.” Deena stood up. “But where on earth are you going to start?”

  Guttman opened the folder and pulled out a piece of paper. “Looks like I’m going to have to talk to that crazy cat lady.”

  Chapter 27

  It didn’t seem fair that Deena got to have all the fun, Gary thought as he changed from his suit to his work clothes. She got to flitter around town chasing criminals while he was stuck behind his desk in an office all day. This thought had driven him to leave work at lunchtime for a rare afternoon off.

  He walked out the back door and sucked in a deep breath of cool Texas air. This was more like it. Deena didn’t think he was serious about getting his hands dirty and working in the soil. The idea of running a vineyard had taken hold in his brain and wouldn’t leave. He’d start with their backyard and prove how serious he really was.

  Admittedly, he hadn’t been tending to the landscaping lately, but it had been football season. His weekends were busy. The colorful pots where they’d planted tropical hibiscus plants and climbing Mandevilla were now homes to bare sticks. He went to the garage to fin
d some work gloves. No use messing up his nails. Deena had just buffed them for him. He pushed around a bottle of antifreeze and another of bug spray to find the gardening supplies. Unlike his regular tools that hung neatly in rows on a pegboard wall, Deena kept her gardening paraphernalia in an old bucket.

  Gary was quite proud of his garage and its organization. The tools looked pristine. If Deena needed a picture hung or a drawer handle tightened, he could go straight to the garage and find the right tool for the job. If his car needed servicing, he took it to Henry’s Automotive. For cleaning, Doug’s Detailing. And if a job around the house required a professional, Russell was just a phone call away.

  He found the bucket and the gloves, checking them for spiders or other crawly critters before putting them on. He made quick work of the dead plants, putting them in large plastic garbage bags, and then carried the bags out to the curb for trash pick-up.

  The swimming pool was another matter. He paid a service to come out regularly to check the water, keeping the chemicals balanced and the equipment functioning properly. But Gary had chosen to take care of the cleaning himself, which essentially meant sweeping out the leaves and emptying the skimmers once or twice a week. However, he’d gotten behind, being that it had been football season and all.

  He pulled back the lid on the first skimmer basket timidly, knowing that the occasional field mouse or frog could have drowned and gotten swept up in there. He picked up the basket. Just leaves. After emptying it into the garbage, he repeated the task with the second basket.

  Next, he pulled the long pole with a net on the end off the wall and began fishing out the floating debris. Thinking about how pleased Deena would be for his taking the initiative to tidy up the backyard, he walked over to a garbage bag to empty the net. When he turned it over, not one, but two small grass snakes wriggled out of the net and onto the patio.

  If there was one thing Gary Sharpe was afraid of, it was snakes. It didn’t matter that they were no bigger than your average earthworm, to him they were the same as rattlers and were out to sink their venomous fangs into his meaty flesh. He threw down the metal pole and ran around the house to the safety of the garage, where he stood in the corner trying to catch his breath.

  He had to make a plan. What would happen if Deena came home and found him cowering in the garage? If he waited long enough, they might crawl away. But then they’d be in the grass. Hiding. Waiting.

  A shovel was the answer. He went over to the storage bin that held all of his yard tools and picked up the shovel. When he did, he spotted a wasp nest in the corner of the ceiling. Shovel in hand, he reached up to knock down the nest, and out came a swarm of angry insects. He was outnumbered. Before he could get away, one got him on the hand. That’s when he threw down the shovel, closed the garage door, and went inside to put ice on his throbbing hand.

  And that’s how Deena found him when she got home from the police station. He was sitting in his recliner, nursing his sore hand, watching basketball on TV.

  * * *

  HURLEY BARKED AS DEENA came through the door, which only intensified her anxiety. She couldn’t imagine why Gary was already home from work unless he’d gotten sick or something had happened to a family member.

  She gave Hurley a scratch on the top of the head to calm him down and rushed straight to the den. When she saw Gary in his recliner with an ice pack on his hand, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. You’re okay.” She took off her jacket and set down her purse. “What happened? Did you and the copy machine get into another fight?”

  “Not exactly.” He held up his hand. “I got stung by a wasp.”

  “A wasp? At the office?”

  “No. In the garage.”

  She walked over to examine his hand. Without her reading glasses, she couldn’t even make out where the sting had occurred. “I don’t understand. Weren’t you at work?”

  Gary placed the ice bag back on his wound. “I took off early to work in the backyard. I thought you’d be happy.”

  She glanced out the French doors leading to the patio and spied the garbage bag. “I am, but I’m sorry about your hand.” She plopped down wearily on the sofa. “While you were out playing in the yard, you’ll never guess what happened.”

  Deena gave him the whole rundown. She told him about the suicide note Lonnie had found, her talk with Allison, and Detective Linndorf’s confession to Guttman.

  “Wow.” Gary shook his head. “Sounds like you had a productive day.”

  Deena noted the lack of enthusiasm in his voice. “Okay, what’s wrong now?”

  He got up from the chair and walked over to the patio doors. “Nothing. While you tracked down leads, I pulled up weeds. That’s all.”

  Deena sat back and crossed her legs. “Is this about the vineyard again?”

  He nodded without turning around.

  “Look,” she said, “I’ve been thinking. You’ve been supportive about all my career moves, and I want to be supportive about yours. If you want to start a new business or get a new job or whatever, I’m fine with that. Just make sure it’s something you really want to do. Trust me, it’s no fun starting over every six months.”

  He spun around. “Good, because I’ve already started working on a business plan. I haven’t worked out all the numbers yet, but I think it’s doable. I’m sure I can get the financing, although I might want to consider taking on a partner. Someone who already knows the business.”

  And just like that, the conversation turned from murder to money. By the time they had finished dinner, they already had a list of possible names for their new winery.

  Deena picked up her purse to take it to the bedroom when she spotted the note from Drew. She hadn’t bothered to show it to Detective Guttman.

  Gary walked by and saw her reading. “What is it? A love letter from Dan?”

  “Of course not. Why would you say that?”

  “Because he has a crush on you.”

  Deena made a sour face. “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Sure he does,” Gary said. “That’s why he calls you cutie.”

  Deena followed Gary into the bedroom. “He calls me ‘cutie’ because he’s sexist and he likens himself to the old beat reporters from the fifties. I’m surprised he doesn’t wear one of those Jimmy Olsen hats.”

  “And because he likes you.” Gary snatched the note out of Deena’s hand. “So, what is it?”

  Setting her handbag on the dresser, she pulled off her earrings. “It’s Drew’s suicide note.”

  “But you said he was shot by someone else.” Gary read the note.

  “I know. I wonder if he was thinking of killing himself, but someone beat him to it.”

  Gary handed it back to her. “I think you need to read this again. It’s not a suicide note. It’s a ‘Dear John’ letter—or ‘Dear Jane’ letter, in this case.”

  “What?” She pulled out her reading glasses to give it a good look.

  He chuckled. “Hey, I know a breakup letter when I see one. I got several of them before I met you.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she pushed him away.

  “Oh my gosh! I think you’re right.” She felt the hair on her arms stand up. “Drew wasn’t about to kill himself, he was leaving his wife.” She looked back at Gary wide-eyed. “You know what this is, right?”

  Gary nodded. “A breakup note. Like I said.”

  “Yes, but it’s also a motive. This could be the reason Allison shot her husband!”

  She grabbed her keys. “I need to show this to Guttman.” But just then, her cell phone rang. “It’s Dan,” she told Gary. “I should take this.”

  As usual, Dan skipped the pleasantries. “You need to get down to the jail. There’s been a new development in your story. It just came over the police scanner that Allison Granger has been arrested.”

  Chapter 28

  Deena knew she didn’t have to rush. The booking process at the jail would take some time. Hopefully, she’d be allowed to see Allison or at least speak to
her attorney.

  Going to the jail had always been a depressing experience for Deena. The place was almost as cheerless as the emergency room at the hospital. Both had sad-colored walls and worry-worn carpet. The only real difference was that the lighting was a little brighter at the hospital.

  As she sat in the waiting area, Deena wondered what new evidence the police had uncovered that had led to Allison’s arrest. Did they really have enough to bring a murder case against her? How would this affect Drew’s estate? Surely Allison wouldn’t end up with it after this. Eric Lyons would have to find a loophole the size of Texas to be able to swing that.

  Speaking of Eric Lyons, Deena wondered if he would be representing Allison in this matter. He generally handled family law and civil cases. It would be interesting to see if he would pass her off to someone else in his firm, especially since she probably was no longer worth a lot of money.

  As though Deena had called forth his spirit, Lyons himself came walking out from the administration area of the jail.

  “Mrs. Sharpe,” he said as he spotted her. “Can’t say I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “Are you representing Allison Granger in her murder case?”

  “She wasn’t arrested for murder. She’s been charged with making false statements to the police. That’s on the record, by the way.”

  For a minute, Deena had forgotten about the story. She was used to working with Ian Davis to defend indigent clients. “Really?” She took out a pad and pen. “Do you think they are just trying to find some reason to hold her until they get evidence to charge her with murder?”

  “No comment.”

  Deena shifted to her reporter persona. “How does she plan to plead to the current charge?”

  Lyons swapped his briefcase to the other hand. He must have come from home because he was wearing jeans and a polo shirt. “Not guilty, of course.”