Deena glanced at the door. Could she make a run for it? She pictured herself trying to get away. How many steps would she take before hearing the gun blast? She froze.
“I had been ready to go to jail after it first happened,” he continued. “I didn’t want to live without Drew. But then everything went back to normal, and I thought that maybe life would go on as usual.”
“Why did you show me the note? Drew wrote it to you, right?”
He shook his head slowly and stared into the rug. “That was a mistake. I thought it could pass for a suicide note. I guess you figured it out.”
“It was Allison, actually. She thought ‘my queen’ was another woman.”
He stiffened. “Allison. She didn’t deserve him. She didn’t even know who he was. He said he only married her to get his father off his back. Once they had married, his father turned over his company to Drew.”
Deena muddled it over. “Are you saying Drew knew about the morality clause in his father’s will the whole time? Is that why he ended the relationship with you?”
“Yes. He said he couldn’t juggle Allison, a baby, and me for another two years. Once he turned thirty-five, he had been planning on getting a divorce. But Allison messed that up when she told him she was pregnant. Such a liar. He said he couldn’t damage the company’s reputation by leaving her right after having the baby. She had ruined everything.”
Deena heard herself ask, “So why didn’t you kill Allison instead of Drew?”
He leaned forward in the chair. “You think I meant to kill Drew? You think I went over there to shoot the only man I ever loved?” He picked up the gun and waved it toward her. “I used my key. I went in. He was asleep on the bed. I knew he kept a pistol in the nightstand. I just watched him for a while.” Lonnie was crying now.
Should she make a move?
He wiped his eyes. “I couldn’t let her have him. Not after all we’d been through.” Jumping from his chair, he came toward Deena. “That’s why I’m here. I want you to put that in your story.”
Deena’s breath caught in her throat as she rolled her chair closer to the keyboard.
“Not on the computer! Use paper!”
He was more agitated now. He leaned over the desk. “I want you to tell everyone that he never loved Allison. He loved me. I didn’t intend to kill him. I just lost it.”
Deena’s hands trembled as she tried to write down what he was saying. The pencil lead broke.
Lonnie grabbed a pen from her desk and shoved it at her, still holding the gun just a few feet from her face. It was the pen she had taken from Dan’s office. “Read it back!”
Her voice shook. “Drew never loved Allison. He loved you. You shot him as an act of passion.”
He nodded. “Act of passion. I like that.”
The hum of the garage door drew their attention.
“Gary,” she said softly.
“Make sure you print that,” Lonnie ordered and took a few steps back. “And tell Gary I’m sorry.” Then he ran out of the office and turned in the direction of the back door.
Deena rushed to the front of the house to meet Gary.
He took one look at her face. “What’s wrong?”
That’s when they heard the gunshot. The police found Lonnie’s body floating in the swimming pool.
Chapter 33
His hand trembled ever so slightly as he picked up the pen to sign on the line next to the red X on the final document. Was it fear or excitement causing the tremor? The small group who had gathered for the occasion waited in anticipation.
Deena put her hand on Gary’s arm. “Wait.” She dug in her handbag, then pulled out her “lucky” pen. “Here, use mine. It’s the one I got from Dan and used to sign my contract with the Tribune. Hopefully, it will be lucky for you, too.”
Gary took it and wrote his name on the final page of the document.
His friend Scott slapped him on the back. “Congratulations, partner, we are now the proud owners of our very own financial services agency.”
“This deserves a toast,” Jake, the loan officer, said. “Too bad we don’t have any champagne.”
Gary smiled and handed Deena back the pen. “Who needs champagne. I’ve got a case of some of the finest Texas wine you’ll ever taste.”
Deena smiled as her husband and his new partner shook hands and asked questions of the bank’s assistant manager. For the first time since the tragedy of Lonnie Fisher’s confession and suicide, she felt a sense of contentment. Her stories in the Tribune had garnered a lot of attention and had even been picked up by the wire services and run statewide. Dan and Lloyd Pryor had immediately offered her a contract and a generous salary, considering she would only be working part-time.
Deena kissed Gary on the cheek and then whispered in his ear, “No regrets about not buying in to the winery?”
“None whatsoever. I can’t wait to move into our new office space. You know how much I’d have missed my suits and ties.”
The frumpy woman sitting next to them overheard the comment and spoke up. “By the way, Mr. Sharpe, I don’t mind picking up your dry cleaning on my way to work. Yours either, Mr. Myers.”
Gary grinned and shook his head. “You’re my secretary, Vera, not my wife.”
Deena put her arm through Gary’s. “That’s right. He’s already got one of those. And she couldn’t be more proud of her husband today.”
Over the chatter and shuffling of paperwork and chairs, Deena heard the ringing of her cell phone and pulled it out of her handbag. It was Dan. “Hello?”
“Sorry to bother you today, cutie, but I need you to come in to the office. I know you’re busy, but it looks like we have another big story to cover.”
Epilogue
Lonnie Fisher’s parents held a small graveside service for Lonnie in Dallas. Vera Clausen and a few of the men who had worked at the winery attended. Gary and Deena went, too, although Deena told Dan she wouldn’t be writing anything about it for the newspaper. It was enough that her story started the investigation into the murder in the first place. And her detailed account of Lonnie’s suicide brought a close to the terrible saga.
She had struggled with her conscience when it came to including Lonnie’s final message to Allison and the public. Lonnie had wanted everyone to know that Drew was a cheater who valued his business more than his wife and the child she claimed to be carrying.
Dan had drilled into Deena’s head that the public had a right to know the facts. But she also remembered something Russell once told her. He said, “Sometimes the facts hurt more than they helped.” In the end, she decided that as a reporter, she would always have to walk a fine line between justice and humanity.
After talking things over with Ian Davis, she was convinced that what Lonnie had said was hearsay and would not have been admissible in court. Therefore, she left the last part out of the story, that Lonnie said Drew had never really loved Allison. She knew all along she wouldn’t print it, but getting the legal perspective made it easier.
As predicted, the district attorney dropped the charges against Allison since she was not involved in her husband’s death. She got her husband’s life insurance, the winery, and the money he had kept hidden from her in a secret savings account. But here’s where it gets interesting.
Allison had no intention of running a winery or staying in the house she’d shared with a man who had been living a lie all those years. She sold the business—lock, stock, and wine barrel—to Owen Walsh for a fair price, although she did make one stipulation: he had to name one of his finest wines after the Sharpes. After all, she felt she owed them for all their help. And thus “Sharpe Sauvignon” sprang forth and went on the market in early summer.
In another surprise twist, Allison took some of the proceeds from the sale of the winery and made a sizable donation to the Boys Wilderness Ranch in Nevada. Nina was thrilled when the ceremony was held to present the check to the board of directors. Dr. Patton even dug into his own pocket to bu
y new chairs for their little conference room. The shabby card tables stayed, however.
Vera, as you know, went to work for Gary and Scott at their new agency. Owen Walsh had tried to get her to stay on at the winery, but Deena had convinced her husband that Vera would be a loyal employee. Besides, Deena knew she could “network” with Vera anytime she wanted to know the dirt going on behind the scenes at the office.
No charges were ever filed against Woody Davenport, Nina’s ex-husband, although Detective Guttman threatened to throw him in jail if he did anything the slightest bit off the books in Maycroft again. After the divorce, Woody ran off to Houston with the cute redhead from Texas Tea & Tap. No one in Maycroft heard from him again.
Officer Larry Linndorf got fired, as expected. He served a few months in jail for covering up the murder. His lawyer got him a reduced sentence when he voluntarily agreed to give up his right to ever work in law enforcement again. Apparently, he moved up north and planned to try out for a minor league baseball team.
And as for Deena, that phone call she got at the bank from Dan turned out to be a doozy. It was a case like none she’d ever dealt with. But you’ll have to wait for the next book if you want to know about that!
THE END
SHARPE WIT
Copyright © 2019 Lisa B. Thomas
Cozy Stuff and Such, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Prologue
Clara hoped Renee, the new cook they’d hired at the diner, wouldn’t be late again. It was hard enough getting everything ready for the early trucker crowd at five in the morning without also getting slammed with a barrage of customers when the kitchen was understaffed.
She checked the four pots of coffee she had brewing. One of the burners had been on the fritz and she wanted to make sure it was working. Touching the glass carafe, she was pleased to find it getting hot.
The back door opened and Renee rushed in.
Whew. It was going to be a good morning at the Highway Café. She walked over to the front window that faced the highway to pull back the checkered curtains and watch the sun peek up over the small hills in the distance. Not surprisingly, an early bird customer sat in one of the rockers out front, waiting for them to open. She couldn’t see his face because of the ball cap pulled low over his brow. Clara glanced around for the man’s rig, wondering if he was one of their usuals.
Not seeing a truck, she decided to take mercy on the man and let him in a few minutes early for a jolt of her super-caffeinated hot coffee. Who knows, maybe he was a big tipper. She tapped on the window to get his attention. When he didn’t move, she assumed he was asleep. She banged on the window a little harder and called out, “Hey, mister. We’re open.”
Nothing.
Just then a strong wind gust whipped by, stirring up dust on the dirt-covered parking lot. When it settled, the man’s cap had shifted to the side and she could see his face. Unfortunately, this wasn’t Clara’s first experience with death, and she recognized it right away.
She yelled back to the kitchen, “Renee! Call 9-1-1.”
Chapter 1
Sometimes Dan had the worst timing. Deena Sharpe couldn’t believe her editor at the Northeast Texas Tribune had called her away from the bank where her husband, Gary, and his business partner, Scott, had just signed the final papers on their new joint venture. Sharpe & Myers Financial Services had gone from a midlife crisis dream to the real deal. Sure, there was that brief interruption where Gary wanted to be a farmer and own a vineyard, but luckily, he’d gotten over that when the reality of actually working outdoors in the Texas heat with his own hands finally set in.
Whatever this new story Dan had, it had better be good or else she’d be joining the others at Las Abuelas for a celebratory brunch. Dan had called it a “doozy” and he wasn’t known for hyperbole. She’d made her apologies to Gary and Scott and gone out to the parking lot. That’s when she remembered Gary had driven them in his little red sports car. She knew he could get a ride with Scott or Vera, so she got in and started it up. She’d only driven it a few times, preferring her big SUV over the little Mercedes.
She hadn’t been able to talk in the bank, so she dialed Dan’s number on her cell phone to get the details. He answered on the first ring.
Without even saying hello, he told her she needed to get over to the Mortimer Funeral Home right away.
“The funeral home? Why?” Annoyance crept into her tone. Her beat was major crimes, not obituaries.
“There’s a guy down there trying to steal a body. Came over the scanner.”
Now her curiosity was piqued. This could be something. “Anything else?”
“He’s armed, so be careful.”
She heard the other end of the call click off. If Dan had known more, he would have told her. She pulled out of the parking lot and headed down Elm to First Street, wondering what the police presence would be like at the scene and how close she’d be able to get.
Most of the incidents she’d investigated were not active crime scenes, so this one would be more dangerous. She was glad she hadn’t known this before she left Gary or else he might have sensed something was up. It seemed the longer they were together, the more in tune they’d become with each other’s moods. Almost forty years of marriage will do that to you.
As she turned down First, she listened for the sound of sirens but heard none. Was she too late? It wasn’t like the Maycroft Police Department to be that efficient. She made a right on Ivy and pulled up to the funeral home. There was one squad car without its lights on and Detective Guttman’s unmarked vehicle. Somewhat disappointed, she headed inside.
“We’re closed right now,” a black-clad woman in her forties said with a nervous twitter in her voice. “Would you like to make an appointment?”
The woman was pencil-thin and had her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Deena recognized her as Jeanie, the funeral director’s wife. The couple’s faces were plastered on several billboards in town.
She pulled her press pass from her purse. “I’m Deena Sharpe, a reporter with the Tribune.” It still gave her a thrill to introduce herself as a reporter. After teaching journalism for thirty-plus years, she finally felt like she was playing in the big leagues. Okay, well maybe the minors. After all, Maycroft was just a small town in Northeast Texas. But it was just the right size for her. “I understand there was a . . . um . . . robbery here this morning?”
“I wouldn’t call it that. But if you’ll make an appointment—”
Voices preceded the opening of an office door, and out came Detective Guttman followed by Officer Hitchcock and an older gentleman in handcuffs.
“Edwin Cooper?” Deena was shocked to see her next-door neighbor being led out by police.
“Mrs. Sharpe! You have to help me. Tell these men I’m not dead!”
“Quiet down,” Guttman said and rolled his eyes. He turned to Deena. “I’m surprised to see you here, Mrs. Sharpe. I thought you only reported on the big cases these days.”
“And I thought you were a detective. If this isn’t a big deal, why are you here?”
By the crimson color working its way up his neck, she could tell she’d gotten to him. And why was her neighbor being hauled off by the police? “What’s going on, Mr. Cooper?”
“Back off, Deena,” Guttman said. “You don’t work for an attorney anymore. You have no business with this suspect while he’s under our custody.”
Before Deena could answer, Edwin Cooper called out, “They said I was dead! It’s in the newspaper. Tell them I’m not crazy.”
As Hitchcock put the man in the police car, she not
iced the officer had a plastic bag in his hand containing something black. He opened the trunk to put it inside. It must have been a gun. Cooper’s gun?
Jeffrey Mortimer, dressed in a blue suit with a red silk pocket square, hurried out of the office just as Deena reentered the funeral home. He looked pale, which was surprising for someone who dealt with death day in and day out.
“I’m sorry for the delay,” he said to Deena and tightened the knot on his tie. “How can we help you today?”
Jeanie stepped out from behind her desk. “She’s a reporter, not a client.”
Jeffrey blew out a breath and his shoulders sagged. “Oh. I see. I suppose you want to know about the madman who just tried to kill me.”
Even Jeanie rolled her eyes at that one.
“Well, yes.” She showed him her press pass. “I’m Deena Sharpe from the Tribune, and I understand there was some kind of disturbance here today. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Sure. Just step into my office, and I’ll tell you all about it.” He nodded at his wife, who returned to her desk.
The funeral director’s office was sparsely decorated with a few framed diplomas and certificates hung on beige-colored walls. Nothing screamed death or dying. Deena took a seat in a black leather chair across from Jeffrey and got out her notepad and pen.
“What exactly do you want to know? I suppose you saw that lunatic being hauled off in the paddy wagon.” Jeffrey was clearly still shaken.
She dismissed the lunatic comment, knowing how frightening it must have been to be held at gunpoint. “Just start at the beginning and tell me what happened.”
“Jeanie and I were going over next month’s calendar when that . . . gentleman comes crashing through the door demanding to see the person in charge. We are used to dealing with all sorts of grieving people here, so I calmly asked him to come to my office. He refused.” Jeffrey stuck out his chin as though he’d been slapped across the face.
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