He nodded. “Okay. Someday.”
“Well, if Vera doesn’t fire me first.”
“She’s not easy.”
“She certainly is not,” I said. I glanced at the peonies, pink, white and fuchsia. “They are gorgeous. Well, Vera has sent me off to the library. See you later. Don’t forget, I want those lessons.”
I felt his eyes on my back as I headed briskly for my parking space. I glanced around as I reached my car. Brian’s battered and dusty Dodge was on one side of my Saab. I tried the passenger door to the Dodge. Brian must not have felt he had much to worry about. He didn’t lock his doors. I bent down and opened the glove compartment. Sure enough, there was his vehicle registration. Brian Underwood. Brian U. The address was 43A Magnolia Lane, Harrison Falls, New York.
Just as I got into the Saab, he rounded the corner of the house and leaned against the wall. He watched me, eyes narrowed as I waved and drove away.
The library didn’t open until ten. That gave me plenty of time to drive by 43A Magnolia Lane. It was a ten-minute drive to an area of rundown semis and scrubby properties. The streets all had flowery names, but the neighborhood had dropped its petals. I cruised along slowly, checking things out. Unlike the houses on either side of it, 43A was pristine and well painted. The lawn was well maintained, and the peonies were doing just fine. A red Ford pickup sat in the driveway, and I thought I spotted another car behind it. I imagined the curtains twitching in every house as I crawled by. I even thought I spotted a shadowy presence in the window of 43A.
As I pulled away, I noticed something in my rearview mirror. Damn. A cop car and a familiar face. But Officer Tyler Dekker didn’t seem to be smiling.
My plan was to drop by Sal’s. But I didn’t want Officer Smiley to know that. I led him through every part of Harrison Falls, up and down residential streets and then toward the roundabout into the downtown area. I am quite sure that he’d begun to get bored when I rounded a corner just ahead of him and made a very sharp right turn. Next I shot down one of the few alleys in our town. I turned left and shot back up the next one, spotting the rear end of the black-and-white swinging down the first alley just as I turned right again and sped along to Uncle Mick’s shop. It was closed today as the uncles were still out of town. But I had the keys. Five minutes later, with the Saab parked in full view in front of the shop, I was off in the very useful black Focus. I’d grabbed a baseball cap (Blue Ridge Diner) as insurance. We all look alike in them.
Sal agreed to meet me earlier than usual. He raised an elegant eyebrow at the baseball cap. It was clear that he didn’t approve. Sal likes his women straight out of 1959.
“Necessary deception,” I said.
“What can I do for you?” Sal said, once we were seated in the green leather chairs. I could feel the receptionist’s puzzled glances as she watched me.
“Brian Underwood. He is Vera Van Alst’s gardener and handyman. I need to know who he associates with and if there’s a criminal connection. In fact, I need to know all his connections. Family. Friends. Neighbors. History. He had an injury at one time or a medical condition. I could probably find out myself if I had time, but I am in a necessary hurry. I appreciate your help. Lives are at stake.”
“What do you know about this person?”
“I believe he is capable of murder.”
Sal frowned. “I will see what I can find out. But you should be careful, Jordan. You told me once you wanted a quiet life of books, not your uncles’ more exciting lifestyle. If this man is capable of murder, how will you keep yourself safe?”
“I have a plan. Of course, I hope I don’t need it.”
“Why don’t you leave it to me?”
Well, because I didn’t know where that would lead. Because there was a satchel of unaccounted-for money in my garret. Because I didn’t mind getting some information from a less-than-pure source, but I didn’t want Sal “solving” the problem. I certainly didn’t want people to start disappearing. Even the people who frightened me. I had a legal plan.
“I will, for sure, if this doesn’t work. Thanks, Sal.”
I left shortly after, wondering if I should add “Big Fat Liar” to my résumé.
* * *
WHAT I NEEDED was proof. I seemed to be the only person who’d even seen the man with the limp. I knew he was connected with Karen, but I was more and more convinced he’d been involved in Alex’s death. There was one way to get some information about that: watch images. Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier? I took a detour to switch the Focus for the Saab and ditch the baseball cap until I needed it.
Next stop: the library.
But the magnificent Lance wasn’t on duty. That was the bad news. The good news was that I found him lounging against his bicycle at the back door of the Van Alst mansion when I got home. By some miracle, he’d scored a couple of lattes from Café Hudson and transported them, along with his laptop, on his bike and with his mobile Internet stick in his pocket. Impressive. I wasn’t so shy about letting Lance hug me.
“Need my help?” he said into the top of my head.
“How did you know?”
“Tiff called me.”
We both laughed. Tiff was always looking out for her friends. We were lucky to be among them. Then I realized we’d better get inside. I wanted to get Lance’s perspective on everything that I’d compiled, but I really didn’t want Brian to spot him.
Lance was laboring under no such paranoia. He looked around as we walked to my door, admiring the scenery, sniffing the air, taking it all in and never spilling a drop of those lattes.
Once the door shut, I was all business.
He said, “This house is amazing. Would you call it Scottish baronial style? Can I have the tour?”
“First we need to confirm a murderer. I promise you, it will be much more exciting than a tour of the back corridors.”
His eyes gleamed. “Confirm a murderer. From the minute I met you, Jordan Bingham, I knew you were trouble.”
“No flirting. You’re going to need that laptop.” I had my own but needed Lance’s skills as an online researcher and his keen eye for details and his large high-quality screen.
“And you really need to see what I’ve turned up on YouTube. It’s going to blow you away.” As we hurried up the stairs to the garret, I tried to bring him up to speed on the strange events of the past few days. Had it only been days? I ran my various theories past Lance, ending with the events involving Brian U, aka the man with the limp.
“Wow, that’s a lot of information to take in.” We both sat cross-legged on the wide plank floor, with the laptops on the Lucite coffee table. I took a deep breath. “Okay, I guess I’d better watch that video with you.”
He said, “Prepare yourself. It’s heartbreaking to watch, but not gory. You can’t see Alex afterward. But it is upsetting. Are you sure?”
“I’m in.”
The cat’s claws caught me by surprise. Lance was very sweet about the latte I spilled down the front of his Abercrombie and Fitch button-down. What a guy. It took a while to settle down again.
When we did, the grainy video gave me the willies. A stooped man in what looked like rags stumbled up behind Alex and pushed him hard, snatching at his satchel at the same time. Alex was there one second and then gone the next while Ashley stared openmouthed. The ragged man elbowed his way past the surging crowd and out of sight. “I can’t believe what people will record and post. Gruesome,” Lance said.
We played every clip we could find over and over. Each time, Lance winced when the arms shot out, sending Alex sailing onto the tracks. Each time, tiny grainy people ran down the stairs and flocked to the edge of the platform, while Ashley swayed, shocked and screaming.
“That is hard to watch, but we still don’t have the proof that it’s Brian. I need to see that guy move.”
“Give me a minute.” Lance’s magic fingers danced on the keyboard until he’d located a few more clips and stills of Alex Fine’s horrible death. “I th
ink I have something.”
I stared at the screen as the shambling ragged man made for the stairs, clutching the satchel. Some quick-thinking person had captured that on a grainy video. A few people tried to stop him, and there was nothing weak or incapacitated in the way he fought them off. But he was clearly limping as he mounted the staircase, pausing to kick at a lone pursuer before vanishing.
“It’s Brian. I know it. Download the subway footage, okay?”
“All taken care of.”
My heart was thumping in my chest. “At least we have something real to show the cops, not just theories.”
He said, “What do we do now? Call the police?”
“Better. We’re going to take it straight to Detective Zinger over in Grandville. But first, we’re going to show Vera.”
“What a way to meet the terrifying Vera Van Alst,” Lance said, pointing to his latte-stained shirt.
“Here, I’ll get you a T-shirt.” I rummaged through the bottom drawer of the walnut dresser. “I’m afraid this will have to do.” I held out a Twilight T-shirt that said, “I like boys who sparkle” in glitter. Uncle Danny was a huge Twilight fan. It was not his best Christmas purchase.
Lance said, “But…”
I said, “No time to be a fashionista.”
Lance headed to the bathroom to get cleaned up. I said, “I’ll go on ahead and find Vera and the signora. They have to see this. It’s almost lunchtime. They’ll be in the conservatory. At the bottom of the stairs turn left. Take the corridor past the kitchen and go through the dining room. You can’t miss it.
My skin was still tingling from the excitement of our find (and maybe a bit from Lance) as I headed down the stairs with the laptop with the image still on the screen.
I’d just turned into the east corridor when I heard the back door creak open. I whirled. Brian stared at me and then at the laptop screen. Could he tell what I had? Was he aware that I knew? Apparently yes. I felt a boom as he smashed my head into the wall. After a shocked second, I screamed. He snatched the laptop before it could hit the floor.
Where was Lance? Studying his handsome face in the mirror?
Brian’s normally pleasant features were pinched in rage as he stared at the laptop screen. I backed down the hall away from him as fast as I could. “Brian, what are you doing?”
“I’m putting an end to your snooping.”
Playing for time, I stammered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Surely someone must have heard my scream.
“You think I’m stupid? Just ’cause I didn’t go to some fancy college like you? Just because Vera doesn’t pay me what she pays you to chase after her useless books?” He was thundering closer. The coveralls he wore still smelled like fresh-cut grass. I’d never smell that again without shuddering. “You think you’re better than me?” His hands gripped my biceps. With every word, he shook me violently. I did my best to keep backing up.
“I don’t think you are stupid!” I think you’re terrifying.
He grabbed my neck, whipped me around and started to squeeze. At the same time, he was pushing me toward the cupboard. A good place to dump a body. Little black dots swam in my eyes, getting thicker, closing in.
I caught a movement by the back door. Eddie. Was Eddie in on it after all? I was being slowly dragged by my neck. Where was Lance?
I heard Uncle Mick, my self-defense teacher, shouting in my head. Fight! Feet! Eyes! Groin! Was I screaming that out loud?
My hands clawed wildly at my attacker’s eyes. He roared in pain but didn’t let go of me. Letting one hand leave my neck, he groped for the knob with me struggling and scratching. As I gasped the air into my burning lungs, my vision cleared, for a second.
This is your only chance.
Brian swung the door open and tried to drag me into the closet by my throat. I gasped just enough air to function. His feet were safe in those work boots, but I drove one kitten heel into his shin and caught him off guard. He loosened his grip on me and bellowed.
Hoping there was a witness, I screamed, “You attacked Karen Smith, you killed Alex Fine!”
“Yeah, I did and now I’m going to kill you too.” He snarled and lunged again. The cat that dashed in front of him was just the distraction I needed.
Using all my skills, I aimed for his eyes and missed. His hands flew to his damaged nose. I turned and ran. As I raced by the kitchen door, I heard a clang. I turned to see the signora standing over Brian with a cast iron frying pan.
“No, no, no!” she said.
Lance arrived breathing hard, because he was shaking with laughter. “Feet! Eyes! Groin!” he croaked.
Brian didn’t stay down long. He was smart enough to make a break for it. He lurched toward the back door. He made good time for a man with a limp who had just been beaned with a frying pan.
“Call 911, Lance!” I rushed after Brian, even though I didn’t really want to catch this maniac. But by the time I reached the door, Brian lay facedown in the pea gravel. No sound. No movement. Eddie stood over him, a shovel gripped in his fists. Vera rolled slowly forward toward the open door, brandishing a fire poker. She looked disappointed that she wouldn’t have to use it.
Somewhere a cat yowled.
* * *
THE HARRISON FALLS Police were puzzled, but Detective Zinger of the Grandville force seemed satisfied in his deadpan way. Why not? It would clear up the Karen Smith case without a tap of work on his part. Once he could lay charges, that is. Of course, the Harrison Falls guys might make a solid case for attempted murder and theft. So it was a good day all round.
The main thing was that Karen Smith would be safe, I was alive and Brian Underwood was in custody and would probably be charged with Alex’s murder as well, although that was yet another jurisdiction. It was all coming together.
* * *
VERA AND THE signora were both a bit glum at dinner, the signora uncharacteristically quiet and Vera dead white. Served them right for trying to shield Brian when I was asking about the man with the limp. I, on the other hand, felt elated over Brian’s arrest. Hungry too.
Vera had trouble dealing with Brian’s guilt. “I suppose,” she said with a glower, “that he’ll get bail sooner or later. I don’t intend to post it for him. What a betrayal.”
Betrayal? That was an understatement. I said, “If he gets bail, I’m out of this house, and I think you should be too. He has keys. He has access. He’s vicious. He hates you. He hates Eddie. He hates me. Signora Panetone is the only one who might get out alive. Although after that frying pan, that’s not a sure thing either.”
“Eat,” the signora said sadly.
“Sure thing.” I was happy to accept the heaping plate of veal scaloppini in white wine sauce. It went beautifully with the linguine, and I tried not to wonder what pan she’d used. Eddie had joined us for the first time.
I don’t know why I waited to tell Vera about the pile of Grants. Was there just too much Kelly in me? Did I want to hang on to the loot for just a bit longer? I was trying to come to grips with what should be done with it. The money was Vera’s. But so many people had been damaged by this, that I couldn’t help but think it would be fair to share it with them. What about Karen? With her terrible injury, would she ever be able to go back to the Cozy Corpse? Then there were the Fines, who had lost their only son and would always be grieving. Of course, Ashley had lost her fiancé and been attacked. Didn’t these people deserve something? I was considering a Robin Hood routine: depositing serious stacks of fifties in each of their mailboxes.
But those thoughts reminded me that I needed to call Ashley and tell her that the man who’d killed Alex was now in custody. Of course, the no cell phone rule at dinner was still observed, no matter what.
* * *
AFTER DINNER I took a stroll on the grounds and finally answered the four thousand frantic texts from Tiff: First, I’m okay. Second, I hope you have time for a chat. It may be an expensive call. Luckily, I found 50 grand in my apartment, so the
call is on me. Talk in an hour. XO
Pressing send, I laughed at the thought of Tiff pulling her hair out with curiosity.
Then I gave Ashley a call. The garden was gorgeous. It was hard to believe that all this beauty had been maintained by someone who had such a vicious character. I reminded myself that people are not always what they seem. As I expected, Ashley was very emotional when she heard the news. I gave her time to pull herself together. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Sorry. Tell me everything again.”
“The man who killed Alex and attacked Karen is Brian Underwood. He works for Vera Van Alst.”
She gasped. “Was she behind everything?”
“Not at all. She’s a victim too. He did it to get to her originally.”
I heard her blow her nose. “Sorry, sorry. It just came as a surprise. But will they be able to prove that he did it?”
“He gave himself away in front of five witnesses today.”
There was a long pause, and I imagined the expression on Ashley’s battered face as she struggled to get her head around what this would mean. Finally she said in a choking voice, “I can’t believe it.”
“It’s good news, Ashley. I think that Brian Underwood was probably the man who attacked you too, even though in the shock of the moment it was hard to get a good look at him.”
“I didn’t really see his face.”
“And I think that we will find out more about what really happened. Police from three forces will be grilling him. He’ll already be facing very serious charges in the attack on Karen Smith. Along with Alex’s death, this guy is not going to see the light of day.”
“Jordan, I have to get off the phone. I feel very emotional.”
I couldn’t quite keep the excitement out of my voice. “There may be news about the missing money too. I’ll fill you in when I know more. I hope to see you soon.”
The Christie Curse Page 25