“Please take them. Find out who killed Charlotte and my uncle. I think I know whose house you’ll end up at.” Gracie grimaced to find a more comfortable position.
“We’ll do our best to get to the bottom of it. Thanks for your time.” The investigator left with her arms full of paper. Marc waited until she was walking down the steps.
“Gracie, we will find out who did this to you. I promise.” He bent over and lightly kissed her forehead. The brush of his lips gave her a peaceful feeling as she drifted into sleep.
The next couple of days were a blur to Gracie. People came and went. Reluctantly, she took the pain medication and made herself walk around the yard to stretch her stiff and aching muscles. The bruises turned colors, and the cuts scabbed over. She didn’t look good, but she was alive. Her mother’s stylist had come over on the second day and repaired the pink stripe in her hair. At least something was going right. Jim had the agility course put together, and she’d even watched several Border Collies zip through it with their owners.
Even though Marc assured her that everyone was working overtime on her attack, she wanted to bypass law enforcement and confront Isabelle. Gracie was tired of tiptoeing around. Cabin fever was pushing her to take a drive into town, but Jim had taken her keys, so she was effectively under house arrest. He knew her all too well. Her parents were sleeping in the guest bedroom, and the sheriff’s department had a very visible presence day and night. Marc stopped off Thursday morning with a half dozen of Midge’s sweet rolls, and the church ladies came by with soup and homemade bread.
On Thursday afternoon, Jim strode through the screen door without knocking. The door slammed, waking Gracie.
“Are you decent?”
Still foggy, Gracie mumbled, “I guess.”
“Look what I found in the kibble bin today.” He held a rectangular black remote control with two stubby prongs.
“What’s that?” Gracie tried to focus on what Jim wanted her to see.
“You know what this is. It’s a cattle prod.”
“How’d that get in the kibble bin?” Rising from the sofa, she grabbed the device from his hand. “We don’t have any cattle prods.”
“I think we need to ask our former employee, Beth, about that.” Jim’s jaw was clenched, his eyes uncharacteristically angry.
The cobwebs were clearing as she realized what Jim was telling her.
“No wonder Barney bit her, if she used that on him. I don’t have a doubt Frank would have at least couple of these.” Frank and Evie Simmons raised beef cattle as their main source of income. The prod was a useful tool when they were penning and loading the cattle on trailers for the weekly livestock auction. “Beth was pretty intimidated by bigger dogs. I don’t want to believe she’d use that on sweet Barney.” Now fully awake, Gracie was outraged that a dog in her care had been hurt intentionally.
“I’m going to talk to Frank.” Jim left before Gracie could get another word out. She had a feeling Jim would get to the bottom of their lawsuit problem very quickly. Within two hours, Nathan Cooke, Esquire called to inform his clients that the Simmons family was dropping the suit. There were some details to work out, but he’d have the necessary paperwork within a few days. Good job, Jim. Gracie was suddenly feeling much better.
By Friday, Gracie had had enough of incarceration. She’d sent her parents home, and hauled her bruised carcass back to the kennel. Marc called her to let her know there were a couple of real developments in her attack, and he was on his way to talk to her about it. He couldn’t get there soon enough. The phone rang seconds after she’d hung up with Marc.
It was Kelly Standish. Since their mid-week dinner plans had been postponed, Gracie was anxious to pick Kelly’s brain.
“I hope you’re feeling better.” Kelly’s tone was concerned.
“I am, but the bruises have started to turn colors now. I’ll be pretty strange looking for a while longer.” Gracie looked down at her arms, which were yellowy and purplish, mixed in with her generous sprinkling of freckles.
“How are the police doing on finding the person who attacked you?”
“No word yet, although they think they have made some progress. You know, I wanted to talk a little bit more about Charlotte. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure, I’m on a short break right now.”
Gracie was itching to ask if Kelly knew the father of Charlotte’s baby. Although Matthew Minders denied even getting a date with Charlotte, he seemed to be a close friend. Maybe a friend with benefits. And then there was Galahad, the English teacher. Was it possible he was the father?
“Do you remember Matthew Minders or any other guys hanging out with Charlotte that summer through October?”
“Well, Matt was around a lot. He was like a puppy dog following Char. Nice guy, but a little too tame for her, I think. He took her home almost every day. There were guys from our class who were interested, but I don’t think she was.” Kelly paused, “You know, Char did talk about a guy, but she never said his name. She called him Lancelot or maybe it was Galahad, but she wouldn’t tell me his real name. She had a pretty big crush on him when cheerleading practice started, but by the beginning of October, she didn’t talk about him at all. Char told me she was pregnant about a week before she was killed. She hadn’t been herself, and she was sitting the bench with a sprained ankle or something. I remember her sister coming to practice, and they got into a big scene.”
“What were they fighting about?”
“I don’t know, but Char’s sister said something about doing the right thing for the family, and Char said, well, something not so complimentary about the family.”
“Did you ever talk to her about that ‘discussion’ with her sister?”
“Never got the chance. That was the night she was killed.”
“Oh.” Gracie swallowed hard. “Do you know who Charlotte went home with that night?”
“It was Matt. Charlotte left the locker room without talking to anybody. I ran after her to see if she was OK, but Matt was walking her to his car. He had his arm around her, and I could tell she was crying.”
Why hadn’t Matthew mentioned that to Gracie? Maybe he knew a few more details, and he wasn’t telling for some reason. He found Charlotte. He saw the license plate. Just maybe the preacher’s son didn’t want her to find out all the details. The trail to Charlotte’s killer was taking a new path for her. A rap on the office doorframe startled her and she looked up to see Marc.
“Hey, Kelly, a deputy is here, and I need to go. I’d like to talk with you some more if you have time.”
“Sure, Gracie. Give me a call tonight.”
Gracie motioned for Marc to come in as she hung up the phone.
Chapter 30
Marc’s “developments” were unsatisfactory to Gracie. The sheriff’s department believed Gracie was most likely attacked by a man and not a woman. There had been a report of an attempted rape at the Lower Falls cabin area the previous weekend and a peeping Tom report at another area campsite. Their theory was the unknown male attacker and/or peeper was still lurking in the park. Isabelle’s alibi of taking her children to the airport for out-of-state camps had checked out. Greg was in Massachusetts at a football camp, and Anna was in Virginia attending an exclusive D.A.R. History camp. Poor Anna. It was unlikely Isabelle had time to get back from the airport and find Gracie in the park to try and kill her. Apparently, they didn’t know her cousin like she did.
“How would Isabelle know where you were anyway?” Marc was obviously irritated that Gracie wasn’t joyful about the possibility of her cousin’s innocence.
“Most likely, my mother. My parents live just down the street from Isabelle, and they talk all the time. Plus, keeping a secret in Deer Creek is like collecting rainwater in a sieve. No one’s life is all that private.” Gracie got up from her chair and paced the living room.
“Apparently, there are some secrets in this place.” Marc’s face was unreadable as he stood to leave.
“We haven’t found that connection yet, but like I said, we’re still working on a few other pieces of information. The insurance report and—”
Gracie cut him off.
“I appreciate that, but I think you should talk to Dr. Kelly Standish at the vet clinic. She told me some things today that could help you.”
Gracie wasn’t ready to name any more names. She wanted to see for herself if Matthew Minders was still in town, and if no one was taking her seriously, then she’d do her own investigating. She also needed to try and find Bryan Murdock. What if Matthew was Galahad or even Lancelot? What had her cousin been doing with all these guys? If Marc talked to Kelly, then maybe he’d start connecting the dots, as she had.
“OK then. How do I get in touch with her?”
Gracie quickly scribbled the clinic’s number on the message pad by the phone.
“Here’s the number. I just talked to her a few minutes ago.”
“All right. I’ll call her. And by the way, you are looking better, even if you are multi-colored.” He grinned and swept up his hat from the dining room table, placing it on his head.
“Thanks, I think. And thanks for the report. I do appreciate what you’re doing.” Gracie grinned back.
It still hurt to smile. There was a moment when she wished he would grab her and kiss her hard, but then she winced inwardly, deciding it would probably be painful. That would have to wait for another day. Now she wanted to get to town and do a drive-by of the parsonage.
When she saw Marc’s cruiser disappear over the small knoll on Simmons Road, she grabbed the keys to the SUV. Haley was already at the door, panting and wagging.
“All right, I’ll take you. I probably need the protection, although I don’t think killing raccoons qualifies you.”
Gracie drove slowly from the yard, hoping the dogs wouldn’t alarm significantly to get Jim’s attention. She really didn’t need a chaperone or any more safety speeches for single women. Looking in the rearview mirror, she determined that she’d made a clean getaway.
Main Street was quiet for a Friday afternoon. It was right before the bank and the other scattered businesses would be closing for the weekend. Midge’s only had a few cars, but within an hour, there would be a line out the door. Haley was already sleeping on the back seat. Not a sign of a great guard dog. Labs weren’t known as reliable protection anyway. They’re just not built that way. Gracie drove toward the Village Park, taking Maple to swing around the block, rather than turning off Main onto Park. That way, she could cruise a little less conspicuously past the parsonage.
She struggled with the thought of Matthew stalking Charlotte and possibly fathering her baby. It wasn’t the Matthew she’d known growing up. But then she didn’t think he’d withhold information about Charlotte after all these years either. How could he live with himself? He had a family. He was the minister’s son, but maybe he had gone off the deep end for some reason. Had he been tired of rejection? Had Charlotte pushed him, or was there another trigger?
Gracie drove slowly down Park Street. Matthew’s minivan was parked next to his parents’ sedan. She could see two children playing in the shady backyard of the parsonage. The old rusty swing set she remembered playing on as a kid, with its red and white striped poles, was still in use. Matthew hadn’t left town after all. Her stomach felt queasy. Why was he still here?
Gracie’s cell phone began ringing. While she dug in her tote bag to find the phone, she made a quick U-turn and parked around the corner on Maple, out of sight of the parsonage. It was Marc.
“Gracie, where are you? I’ve been trying to call your house.”
“I got a little cabin fever, so I’m just driving around.”
“Gracie, you really need to go home. I’ll meet you there.” His voice was tense and humorless.
“All right. All right. Is this about my cousin? Do you finally have something on her?” Gracie was actually hoping that it was about Isabelle and not Matthew.
“It’s not what you think. Just go…. now.” Marc’s voice faded, and the connection ended.
“Figures, the call would drop.” She threw the cell phone back into the bag and pulled out into the street. Haley sat up on the backseat and pressed her nose against the closed window. She panted in Gracie’s ear as the SUV headed for home.
The kennel was already closed when Gracie pulled into the driveway. With no pickups this afternoon, Jim had given the dogs their supper early and sent Marian and Cheryl home. He had an important date with Laney. They were going to Rochester for a fancy dinner and then to a concert. Jim must be truly smitten to get dressed up and actually get out of Deer Creek.
The house was quiet as Gracie dropped her keys on the kitchen counter. Now she’d have to wait for Marc. This had better be good. Haley bounded to the patio door, begging to be let out.
“Hang on, girl. I’ll let you out in just a second.”
She opened the door, and Haley ran onto the lawn, stopping to roll on the grass before heading toward the hydrangeas. Before Gracie could close the door, a strong hand covered her mouth and dragged her backward into the living room. She twisted and tried to swing around to see her attacker, but the other arm caught her by the throat and pulled her away from the door. Gracie’s body was in overload with pain and fear as she struggled to pull the arm away from her throat. She tried to get a deep breath, but it was impossible. With a violent jerk, she lunged, put her chin down, and bit the strangling arm.
“Ahh, you stupid…”
The adrenaline rush helped her momentarily forget the throbbing pain coursing through her arms as she grunted and broke free. Tim Baker faced her, panting and rubbing his bleeding arm. He lunged and grabbed her long hair, slamming her to the floor. Gracie felt disoriented staring into Tim’s dark, enraged eyes. He was a man who’d lost control. She didn’t know this Tim Baker. His breath was heavy with liquor as he glowered over her. She noticed a V-shaped gash on his right cheek. Blood was smeared toward his hairline. His hands were pressed on her windpipe, and she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness. Gracie knew she didn’t have the strength to fight back. It was useless. She heard Haley growl, and the pressure on her throat suddenly lessened. Tim struggled to get off Gracie. Haley had nailed the seat of his pants. Tim pushed away from Gracie, kicking and cursing Haley, who yelped and jumped away as Tim’s foot landed on her flank. Gracie rolled toward the coffee table, frantically looking for any kind of weapon while Tim was distracted with the dog, who nipped at his leg. He punched Haley’s chest, knocking the dog’s front legs out from under her. The big dog dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
“Get up, Tim.” Isabelle’s voice was measured and calm.
Gracie got up on all fours to see her cousin standing over Tim, holding a pistol at his head.
“I said, get up.” Isabelle’s face was cold, and her eyes glittered with anger. Every blond hair was in place, and the expensive, hand-embroidered blue shorts outfit looked freshly pressed.
“Isabelle, you don’t want to do this.” Tim’s voice was suddenly penitent as he sat rubbing his right leg, examining the tears in his pants.
“I’m doing something I should have done long ago. You seduced my sister, got her pregnant, and then killed her. I’m tired of your threats, and I’m tired of keeping promises to my mother. You killed my father, coerced me into covering for you, and now you’re trying to kill my cousin. You’re not going to get away with anymore. I don’t care what I have to do.”
Gracie gulped for air, horrified at the scene unfolding in her living room. She could only croak weakly for Haley. The dog was breathing, but not getting back up. Tim’s arm suddenly struck like a snake and grabbed his wife’s well-tanned leg, pulling her off balance. Isabelle squealed in surprise and tumbled backward to the carpeted floor,
the gun falling from her hand. Tim stood, a frightening smile smeared across his face.
“Your mother thought she was protecting you, not me all these years. You’re the one who had an ‘accident’ the night Charlotte died,” Tim gloated. “I set her straight the day she died. She was pretty upset.”
He picked up the gun and shoved it into his pants. His left foot was pressed against Isabelle’s throat. Isabelle grabbed Tim’s left leg with both hands. He shook her off, and then with a flourish, pulled her up.
“Stand up, my dear. There are a lot of things you don’t know, and now you and your sweet cousin will leave this world without finding out. What a shame. If Gracie had minded her own business, we’d still be living the good life, so you can blame her.”
Tim pulled the gun out of his pants and pointed the barrel at Isabelle. He motioned to Gracie to join her cousin on the sofa.
“Put the gun down, Mr. Baker.”
Marc was somehow standing in the living room, his Glock aimed at Tim. Gracie hadn’t heard even the squeak of the screen door.
“Well, ladies, I guess the cavalry has arrived.” Tim laughed and swung the pistol toward the deputy.
Chapter 31
Gracie spread a red-checkered tablecloth over the rough-hewn picnic table and looked toward the Middle Falls, spilling in beautiful ferocity down into the Genesee River. A perfect day, and from all appearances, a normal one too. Families played Frisbee, and kids chased each other on the broad lawns of the Middle Falls picnic area in Letchworth Park. Haley slept soundly on her back under the shade of the picnic table. The sturdy Lab had recovered from her nasty encounter with Tim. She had a deep chest bruise, but otherwise seemed to be fine. Haley sported a new shiny tag on her collar that read “World’s Greatest Dog.”
A small caravan of vehicles pulled into the parking lot—her parents, Jim, and then Marc. They were lined up in a neat row next to Gracie’s RAV4.
Family Matters (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 1) Page 21