by Mary Maxwell
I started to look over at her when the Smith & Wesson hit the window again. I pivoted on the seat again. As I expected, the thug with the inmate tattoos was motioning for me to lower the window.
“I don’t have more than fifty bucks in my purse,” I told him. “If you’re trying to—”
“Shut up,” he said. “Listen to my sister.”
For a split second, the world slid sideways. My heart was thundering in my chest and I could smell Christine’s perfume and the guy with the gun was wrapping one pudgy hand around the steering wheel.
“Your sister?” My mouth felt thick and uncooperative; like I was tumbling into quicksand and they were watching from the shore. “I thought you told me that you didn’t have any siblings.”
Christine smiled. “Isn’t that cute, Ned?” she said gleefully. “Liz believes everything that she’s told.”
I shook my head. “No, but I just don’t—”
“Do me a favor?” She pulled a roll of gray duct tape from her purse. “Stop talking and put your hands on the wheel.”
Her brother snorted. “You’re a natural at this, Chrissy.”
“Don’t you think?” Christine’s voice was gruff and cold. “See what I learned to do all that time you were behind bars?”
“I guess you’re not so dumb after all,” the guy drawled, running one finger down my arm. “You can at least follow simple orders so you don’t get shot.”
“Please don’t,” I whispered, suddenly overwhelmed by the prickly dread of fear and panic. “Whatever this is, I didn’t see or hear anything.”
He pressed the barrel of the gun against the side of my head. “You might hear a big old kabang if you don’t stop blabbering.”
“Don’t worry, Liz,” Christine said. “He won’t hurt you. We’re just leaving town, but you kind of got here at the wrong time. Once we get you taped up tight, we’ll leave you alone.”
Her brother grunted. “Better to be in one piece than a million little ones, right?”
I nodded. “Definitely.”
Christine tore a long strip of tape from the roll. Then she leaned closer and secured my right wrist to the steering wheel.
“One down,” she said.
I watched as she repeated the process. My pulse began to race even faster as she looped a second band of tape around my left wrist. When she was done, I could still wiggle the tips of my fingers, but any movement beyond that was entirely restricted.
“There you go,” she said. “Not too loose. Not too tight. They’re just right.”
Her brother motioned toward my face with the gun. “Do her mouth, too,” he said. “We don’t need her screaming up a storm after we leave.”
“I’m not going to tell anybody,” I said. “First of all, there’s nothing to tell. You haven’t harmed me physically. I don’t know anything about you. And I have no idea where you might be going.”
He smiled, revealing a set of teeth as gray and dingy as dirty mop water. “That’s right, Lizzie,” he said. “And that’s how we’re going to keep it.”
“I wish that you hadn’t poked your nose into what happened to Simon,” Christine said, tearing another piece of tape from the roll. “If you took a survey in Crystal Bay, most people would say that Simon got what he deserved. The guy was a bully and a cheat and—”
“Chrissy!” screamed the brother. “Stop talking!”
“I’m just telling the truth about it,” she said, offering a chilly grin to her brother. “Nobody knows better than you how much bad Simon did when he was alive.”
I glanced at her brother. “Did Wargrave do something to you?”
The guy glowered at me silently.
“Because if he did,” I continued, “there may be extenuating—”
“Extenuating circumstances?” He tapered his gaze, adding another layer of hostility to his already threatening demeanor. “We heard all about that crap back home from the social workers that came and took us after our father decided that he’d—”
The quiet late afternoon was suddenly cleaved by a voice roaring over a loudspeaker.
“Ned Marshall!”
Christine gasped as her brother spun toward the sound of the man calling his name.
“Coral Glen Police!” the voice blared. “We have you surrounded. Put down your weapon, raise your hands and—”
“Did you do this?” he asked. “Were you stupid enough to call the cops?”
“Christine Marshall!” came the voice again. “Put your hands through the window. Then do not move!”
Her hands were already trembling as she dropped the roll of tape and called her brother’s name.
“Don’t say a word,” he told her. “Just do what they tell you and we’ll call my lawyer as soon as we get to the station. They can’t prove a thing, Chrissy. Just keep your mouth shut and hold tight.”
CHAPTER 34
A couple of hours later, I was leaning against a police cruiser parked near the front entrance to the Coconut Reef Inn. The entire property was flooded with uniformed police officers, TV news crews and bewildered guests trying to understand why their quiet afternoon had become a whirlwind of noise and confusion.
“I heard they robbed a bank,” one silver-haired woman said to her companion. “They took hostages and killed at least three before making their escape.”
I walked over and introduced myself. Then I explained that the fracas involved an alleged murderer and his accomplice.
“So she’s lying to me again?” The second woman glared at me. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“No, not at all,” I replied with a smile. “It’s easy for rumors to start in situations like this.”
“Well, what about the time she told me her husband was a millionaire?” the woman demanded. “That had nothing to do with whatever is going on here today, and it was as full of poop as a newborn’s diaper.”
I winced slightly at the image. Then I saw Ethan Shaw inside the motel lobby. I walked over to try and get his attention. When he finally spotted me in the crowd, he gave a little wave and held up five fingers. I returned to my previous location, pulled out my phone and leaned against the car again.
“I’d like to know who invited all the lookie-loos,” Ethan grumbled a few minutes later when he came out of the lobby. “They’re making this a hundred times more complicated.”
“It wasn’t me,” I said. “I’ve been quiet as a church mouse since the first two cars arrived.”
He smiled. “That’s good to know. I’d hate to think that my best sidekick lost her cool.”
“Your best sidekick?” I squinted at him. “Does that mean I passed the audition?”
“Nope. It means I just called you a sidekick. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Well, thank you, detective. It’s better than what Aunt Dot and my mother call me half the time.”
“I can’t believe that, Liz. Those two characters don’t strike me as the hard and jaded type.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Wait until you spend some more time with them,” I said. “Then you’ll be singing a different tune.”
He offered a tired sigh. “I won’t be singing anything for a while.” He checked the time on his phone. “I’ve got another couple of hours here before I head back to town. Once I’m in the office, there will be a mountain of paperwork and interrogations to conduct.”
“But it must feel good,” I replied. “Knowing that you have a couple of prime suspects.”
“Not to mention quite a bit of compelling evidence,” he said. “I talked to Emerson and Woolrich back in Crystal Bay a few minutes ago. They got warrants to search Christine’s home and office as well as her brother’s place in Jacksonville. Would you guess that Ned Marshall’s the type to keep a diary?”
I snickered. “It would be more surprising if you told me that he was into scrapbooking. When I lived in Atlanta, I knew a few guys that kept journals. It’s a pretty useful way to work through some of the curve balls that life throws.”
/> “Really? Did they write in it every night before bed?”
I smirked at him. “Don’t be mean. These guys were all cops or EMTs.”
“Huh. I guess you really do learn something every day.”
“If you’re open to it,” I said.
“Well, I don’t think Ned Marshall falls into that category,” Shaw said. “His journal was a little on the dark side. He mainly recorded fantasies about killing Simon Wargrave, and his writing makes the Marquis de Sade look like Dr. Seuss.”
“Pretty bad, huh?”
He nodded. “The guy’s mind is more twisted than a pretzel.”
“When did you get a chance to read that?” I asked. “He’s only been in custody for a couple of hours.”
He pointed up at the motel. “It was up in their room, along with three handguns, eight hundred rounds of ammo, two machetes, a pair of brass knuckles and a copy of Emily Post’s Etiquette.”
I laughed. “The last one’s a joke, right?”
Ethan shook his head. “Afraid not. But I think that belongs to Christine, not her homicidal brother.”
“Allegedly homicidal,” I said with a wink. “Innocent until proven guilty, right?”
He made a face. “Did you know Christine could swear like a sailor?”
I shook my head. “Can’t say that I’ve heard her utter even one curse word before.”
“Lucky you,” he said. “She tossed out a few things that were one-hundred percent new to me.”
I smiled. “Such as?”
“Nope. My mother taught me that profane language is for lazy and ignorant minds.”
“Don’t tell Aunt Dot,” I said. “She’s neither lazy nor ignorant, but she loves salty language.”
CHAPTER 35
There was a playful glimmer in Aunt Dot’s eyes when she walked into the Big Dipper office around noon the next day. I was enjoying a cup of iced coffee while I paid the bills and balanced the checkbook. Luckily, my aunt and late uncle were both fastidious with finances, so things were in tiptop shape when I took over bookkeeping for the shop.
“There’s a boy on the phone,” she said.
I waited, smiling patiently and demonstrating my resolve not to fall into such an obvious trap.
“And he’s calling for you,” she added a moment later.
“Any idea what he wants?” I said.
Her forehead creased. “Don’t you want to know who it is?”
“Oh, sure. Who is it?”
“That boy from Coral Glen,” she said. “The hunky one with the deep voice.”
“Are we talking about Jason Baxter?”
My aunt grinned. “I don’t know,” she said with a wink. “Are we?”
I grabbed the phone on the desk and punched the blinking white button as she snickered merrily and left the office.
“This is Liz,” I said.
“Hey, Lizzie,” Jason said. “It’s me.”
The sound of his voice brought a warm rush to my cheeks. Even though I hadn’t told anyone since I saw him a few days earlier, I’d been thinking about Jason constantly. My friends and I used to call it The What If Game in high school, but now I tried not to obsess. Don’t get all wobbly and squishy, I told myself. Keep it light and casual.
“How the day going?” I asked. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
Lizzie! Stop! Cool it!
“You have?” There was a hint of delight in his voice. “Is it because Smokehouse has the best barbecue in the state?”
I laughed. “Yep! That’s it. My mind made the leap from burnt ends and baked beans to you.”
“I get that a lot,” he teased. “Mostly from my sister when she wants me to cover one of her shifts.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Oh, you know Em,” he said. “She’s doing great. I swear to you, that girl never has a bad day.”
“Jealous?”
“Nope.” He sent a boisterous laugh down the line. “I know it’s all smoke and mirrors. Everybody has bad days. My sister’s just one of those people who pretend to be above all of that.”
“Well, what about you? Having a good day?”
“It’s been okay,” he replied. “Even better now.”
I knew what he meant. I also knew that I agreed completely. The spark that we’d shared so many years before had never been extinguished. I felt it the moment I saw him in the Smokehouse office. I suspected that he felt it, too.
“That’s good,” I said. “Are you guys busy down there?”
“Steady,” Jason told me. “Pretty typical day.”
“Same here,” I said. “We had a fairly intense rush around noon, but between Aunt Dot, my mother, Theo, Gina and me, we handled it without missing a beat.”
“Cool,” Jason said. “But that’s never been in doubt.”
“What’s that?”
“You handling things well,” he said. “I saw you on the news the other night. Looking pretty badass standing there with the cops in the Coconut Reef parking lot.”
My face went bright red. “Oh, yeah?”
“C’mon, Lizzie,” he said. “You know I’m right.”
“To be honest, I wasn’t really thinking about how I looked,” I said. “I was just grateful that we caught the bad guys.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I wanted to ask; is the woman from Crystal Bay?”
“She is,” I answered. “That’s Christine Marshall. She worked for a real estate agency across the street from the man who was killed.”
“Wasn’t he also in real estate?’ Jason asked.
“That’s right. He called himself The Real King of Real Estate.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember you mentioning that. His logo had a castle or something, right?”
“Close enough,” I said. “It was a crown and royal crest.”
“That’s it, sure,” Jason said. “And I—”
Aunt Dot whistled from the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt you two love birds,” she said, “but the bank is on the other line with some urgent questions about one of our automatic debits.”
“Can you handle it for me?” I asked.
She smirked. “If I do that, who’s going to scoop ice cream and make milkshakes for the gaggle of tourists that just walked in the door?”
“Give me a sec,” I told her. “I’ll finish this conversation, take the bank call and then come up to help out on the counter.”
She rolled her eyes and hurried out of the office.
“Jason?” I said. “I’m sorry, but I need to take care of something with the bank.”
“So I heard,” he said with a laugh. “Your aunt’s voice is hard to miss.”
“That’s very true!” I said. “And she’s in rare form today.”
He chuckled again. “So I heard.”
“So everyone heard,” I said.
“Can I ask a quick question?” he said. “Then we can talk later.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“How about Café Colombo in Crystal Bay for dinner on Saturday? Would that be okay? Their lasagna is out of this world! I wanted to ask so I can call and make reservations.””
“That actually sounds perfect,” I replied. “And then maybe walk down the beach to Sugar Mama’s for dessert.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jason said. “I’m really looking forward to it, Lizzie.”
“Ditto,” I said. “It’ll be nice to catch up and talk about something besides my aunt’s bunions or my mother’s arthritis!”
CHAPTER 36
It was nearly five o’clock when I met Ethan Shaw at Coffee Cove. He was already sitting at a table when I arrived; one hand wrapped around a paper cup with a black plastic lid and the other tapping out a steady beat on the tabletop. A week had passed since Ned and Christine Marshall were arrested at the Coconut Reef Inn. When I’d called earlier in the day to see if Ethan had time to discuss the case, he readily agreed and suggested the coffee shop instead of his office for a change of scenery after putting in long days on the
case and subsequent paperwork.
“Afternoon, detective.” I slid into the chair across from him. “Am I late?”
He looked at me with a relaxed smile, his gray eyes full of amusement.
“Why do you ask?”
I motioned at his drumming fingers, which instantly stopped the unhurried rhythm.
“Bad habit,” he said. “When I was a kid, my mother described it as ‘fuel to burn.’ She actually took me to the doctor once to see if I needed medication.”
“And what did the doc say?”
Ethan shrugged. “He prescribed a mild sedative for my mother. Said that she needed to get more rest.”
“Because that’s what happens when you have four boys?” I asked.
“Pretty much,” Ethan said. “Things got better for her once my older brothers left for college.”
“How’s she doing these days?” I asked.
His casual grin blazed into a dazzling smile. “Happiest woman in Charlotte,” he said. “She’s retired, but still works twenty hours a week at Target. She also has book club, bridge club, four grandchildren, two Labradoodles and my father.”
“He comes in last on the list?” I teased. “That probably wouldn’t please him much.”
Ethan shook his head. “He wouldn’t mind. My dad’s one of the most chill guys you’ll ever meet. Retired Marines can be like that.” He pointed at his cup. “Do you want some caffeine?”
“I’ll go for decaf at this point in the day,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
He motioned for me to stay in the chair. Then he took his cup up to the counter, placed my order and asked for a refill. When he returned to the table, I went right to the question that was buzzing around my brain like a pesky gnat.
“Did Ned Marshall give you a full confession?”
Ethan drank some of his coffee. “Pretty much,” he said. “But I suspect old Ned’s like a lot of people who do bad things. He’ll never quite divulge every last detail.”
“So he’s withholding evidence?” I asked.
“It’s more like he’s giving us ninety percent of the truth,” Ethan replied. “As if holding back a few bits and pieces of information gives him some sense of control over his destiny.”