Much Ado About Murder (Double Barrel Mysteries)

by Barbara E Brink

  “Summer shoes go in the rack at the back of the closet.”

  “Ah, yes. Arranged by seasons. Have you ever thought that if you have to arrange your shoes by seasons, you may have too many shoes?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “You’re so funny.”

  “How come all my shoes are in one spot?”

  “You only have four pair.”

  “Exactly!”

  “Let me finish putting them away. You’re probably mixing them all up,” she said, frowning.

  “What’s that?” Blake tilted his head, listening.

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  He went to the window and pulled it open an inch. Cold air rushed in along with the high whine of a motor. “Shut off the light.”

  Shelby hurried to flip the switch. When the room was dark, he stepped behind the drapes, looking out. The vehicle was closer now. It sounded as though it were on B&B property. She whispered, “What is it?”

  “A snowmobile.”

  Blake pushed the window down and pulled the drapes closed. He opened the desk drawer and took out his Glock. “Stay here. I think our friend Guthrie came by to turn himself in.”

  “Wait a minute. You can’t go out there alone. What if he’s armed?”

  “So am I. And I guarantee I’m a better shot than a roofer.” He grabbed his coat and hat. “Maybe you should go downstairs and get Alice. Hang out in Oliver’s room until I give the all clear.”

  “Blake, wait.” She slipped her arms around him and kissed him. “Be careful.”

  One side of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “Always.”

  <<>>

  Blake turned off the front porch light before slipping out the door. He kept close to the trees and bushes, moving stealthily across the yard, gun in hand. The quarter moon seemed bright tonight, along with the thin layer of new snow. He stopped beside the car and listened. If Guthrie left his snowmobile in the trees somewhere and hiked back to the house he should be able to hear the crunch of snow beneath his boots. Nothing.

  Moving toward the back of the house, he thought he heard a dry cough. He turned toward the sound, facing the lake. Could Guthrie be down by the boathouse? A snowmobile could gain access to that area if they went through the woods to the south and crossed the inlet, which would probably be frozen over. It was possible.

  He carefully maneuvered each step down the hill, keeping his eyes peeled for trouble. Some of the wood planks were slick with ice and he hoped he didn’t have to move fast because he’d probably end up falling on his butt.

  Another cough.

  He froze. It definitely came from the direction of the boathouse. Pete always made sure to lock the deadbolt after he quit work for the day. If Guthrie were trying to break in, it would be easier for him to go through a window. Blake moved across the sand, crouching low, looking for movement on the dock. There! He raised his gun and flipped on the laser sighting. A red beam pinpointed his target. A man bent over a dark bulky object. As Blake moved closer, the man straightened and looked up. He must have noticed the little red dot on his chest because he raised his hands in the air.

  “Don’t move!” Blake yelled. He stepped up on the dock, keeping his laser on Guthrie. As he left the shadow of the boathouse and stepped into the full light of the moon he realized his mistake. “Jack?”

  The man, hands raised high, was his grandfather. At Jack’s feet was what looked like a huge duffel bag with legs. Eyes wide with fright, Jack stared toward Blake like a rabbit ready to run. The duffel bag moved and groaned.

  Blake lowered the gun. “Jack, what are you doing? Who is that?”

  Jack slowly lowered his arms, still unsure what was going on. “Don’t shoot.”

  “I’m not going to shoot you. It’s me. Blake.”

  “Blake?” He moved toward him, straining to see. “It is you. Well, what in the blazes are you doing trying to kill me?”

  “I wasn’t trying to kill you, Jack. I heard a snowmobile and came out to investigate.”

  Jack pointed at the man behind him slowly sitting up, a hand to his head. “You’re too late. I already did the investigating. He was trying to break into my boathouse.”

  Blake noticed a crowbar on the dock a few feet away. “Did you hit him with that?”

  “He was gonna ruin that brand new door Pete put in. You said this was my home now, so I had to do somethin’. I took the crowbar away from him and when he came at me, I hit him with it.”

  Blake couldn’t help grinning. His seventy-two-year-old grandfather had taken down a muscled ex-con without breaking a sweat. He stood over Guthrie and nudged him with his boot. “You okay?”

  The man glared up at him, a grimace of pain in his eyes. It was Guthrie all right. He actually looked like his mug shot: shaved head, wide forehead, broad nose, thick neck. He reminded Blake of a Neanderthal… or a professional wrestler.

  He moaned and asked, “Who are you?”

  “I’m the one with the gun, so I’m going to ask the questions.”

  <<>>

  When Shelby heard the front door open, she hurried through the kitchen, stopping short at the sight of Blake shoving a huge man into the dining room. He directed him to pull a chair out from the table and place it in the middle of the floor, then ordered him to sit, all the while keeping his gun trained on him. The man reluctantly obeyed, his gaze shifting to the doorway where she stood. She could tell he recognized her. His eyes widened and then quickly dropped to the floor.

  “Take off your coat,” Blake said.

  He shrugged out of his coat and dropped it on the floor.

  “Sit on your hands.”

  “What?” his lip curled.

  “Just do it.” Blake glanced her way. “Shel, could you come over here?”

  Shelby moved tentatively closer, keeping her eyes on the man’s hands. His fingers were thick and strong looking. Clasped together, she knew they had the power of a sledgehammer. She remembered how quickly he moved for such a big man. She had no desire to get within his reach again.

  “Get his coat. Slip it backwards over his chest and zip it over the back of the chair.”

  “You can’t keep me here!” Guthrie growled, his face a mask of anger. But he didn’t move off the chair with Blake’s gun inches from his ear.

  Blake gave Shelby a reassuring nod. She moved behind the chair and pulled the two sides of the coat together, zipping it closed.

  “This is unlawful imprisonment!”

  “This is for your own protection, Mr. Guthrie.” Blake bent over the man and tied his coat sleeves together in a knot, tightening the material around him so he wouldn’t be able to lift his arms. “If you aren’t restrained you might choose to act aggressively and then I would have to reciprocate in like manner. Trust me. I can shoot faster than you can move.”

  Alice appeared in the kitchen doorway, her father close behind. He leaned on his walker, pressing in to look over her shoulder. His face was lit up like a kid on Christmas day, obviously enjoying the excitement.

  Guthrie glanced their way, a snarl curling his lip. “What am I, a circus animal?”

  “Alice, could you make us some coffee? This might take a while.”

  Her eyes clouded with worry but she returned to the kitchen.

  Oliver remained in the doorway watching. He scratched at his bearded cheek and chuckled. “This is like watching Real Cops ‘cept without rules.”

  “Mr. Booth, I think you should go back to your room,” Blake suggested, taking off his coat and setting his gun on the table behind Guthrie.

  Instead of turning around, Oliver moved his walker toward the table. “Are you kidding me? This is the best show in town.”

  “Oliver…”

  “Forget it. I’m staying. After all, this is my home too.”

  Blake sighed. “Fine, but no talking.”

  Shelby helped Oliver into a chair and hovered nearby, wondering what Blake would do next. He was still furious with Guthrie for hurting her and she was
afraid his actions, although understandable, might compromise his past record of upholding the law.

  “Now,” Blake stood in front of Guthrie in a military at ease position; wide stance, hands behind his back, “Mr. Guthrie, you have a lot of explaining to do. First of all, you are out on parole, so breaking and entering is an absolutely perfect way to get thrown back in the joint indefinitely.”

  “I didn’t…”

  “Stop! You listen and try to come up with the right answers when it’s your turn. The other day at Sadie’s house you threw my wife into a dresser mirror and put her in the hospital with a concussion. As you probably noticed,” he tipped his head toward Shelby, “she also has multiple cuts and contusions and had to have stitches in her forehead.”

  Guthrie expelled through his nostrils and dropped his head, refusing to look at Blake.

  “You took a packet of money when you fled and went straight to Heath Flintlock’s place to pay him what you owed him. Isn’t that right?”

  “I ain’t got nothin’ to say.”

  “Really. ‘Cause we were just out to see Heath this afternoon and he had quite an interesting story to tell.”

  Blake’s bluff was so good Shelby nearly believed it. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and watched, wondering exactly what he was up to. Beside her at the table, Oliver Booth leaned forward eagerly as though he was about to interrupt things, but she caught his eye and put a finger to her lips to shush him.

  Guthrie, frustrated by his inability to move his arms, shifted awkwardly. “You can’t believe anything that little twerp says. He’s a pathological liar.”

  “I’ve had some experience with Heath in the past. We played for rival football teams in high school. I know how he likes to twist the truth, but there’s usually a nugget hidden in the lie.”

  He responded with a grunt.

  “He said you worked for Linder Construction but you really worked for him and Bart. When you fell in love with Sadie you wanted out, but they wouldn’t let you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I? I know you gave Sadie an engagement ring. A very special ring. It obviously had sentimental value… to someone. You came here looking for it.”

  His chin came up and he met Blake’s eyes. “Yeah, okay. It was my grandmother’s ring. When Sadie disappeared, I figured it was gone for good, but then I heard you two talking about finding it. So I figured I’d come and reestablish ownership.”

  “That’s an interesting way of putting it. You trashed our room. And tonight my grandfather caught you trying to break into our new offices.” He slowly rubbed a hand over his jaw stubble, eyes slanted. “You might be unhappy to hear that your grandmother’s ring is in the evidence room at the county police station.”

  Guthrie’s nostrils flared but he remained silent.

  “Tough news, right? That ring could get you thrown back in prison.”

  Shelby caught Blake’s eye and threw up her hands. What in the world? He motioned her over to face the man in the chair. She had no desire to look in those cold eyes, but she put on her best façade of bravery and moved beside Blake.

  Guthrie sneered. “She doesn’t look any worse for wear to me.”

  “Insecure bullies beat up on women,” Shelby said, her voice tightly controlled. She felt a little Julius Caesar coming on. “Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once.”

  “What the…?”

  “I’ll give you the Cliffs Notes version,” Blake said, crossing his arms. “She called you a coward and a bully. Let me guess. You beat up on women because you have low self-esteem. Am I right?”

  “I don’t beat up on women!” He jerked his chin toward Shelby. “She had my money so I took it. I didn’t mean to hurt her. It was an accident.”

  “An accident?” Shelby moved closer, getting right up in his face. She pulled her hair back to reveal the stitches on her forehead. “Is that what you call this?”

  “Did you accidentally kill Sadie Dugan as well?” Blake asked.

  “What? No! I loved Sadie! I didn’t know what happened to her. She just disappeared. One day she was there, the next she was gone. Without a trace. Without a word. Without saying goodbye.” He shook his head, mouth clamped tight.

  Shelby was shocked to see moisture building in his eyes. He was either a better actor than she or he really loved Sadie. She glanced at Blake. His expression was set in stone. He wasn’t ready to let his suspect off the hook so easily.

  “You want us to believe a career criminal like yourself fell in love and suddenly wanted to go straight? Sounds like a Hallmark movie. Except for the part where your fiancé was murdered and conveniently buried under her ex-husband’s woodpile.”

  “I had nothing to do with that. I warned Sadie to stay away.”

  “Stay away from whom? Pete Dugan?”

  He refused to answer.

  Alice brought in a plate of chocolate chip bars with the coffee tray and set them on the table. She hesitated, unsure if she should stay or leave. Her father reached for a cup. He whispered loud enough for all to hear, “Sit down, honey. The show’s just getting good.”

  “Dad, this isn’t a show.”

  “Sure it is. It’s like one of them reality shows on cable TV.”

  Guthrie suddenly stood, chair and all, and lunged, throwing himself at the far wall. He was obviously hoping the chair would splinter apart like they always did in Hollywood movies, and he would be loosed from his coat bonds. Ironically, the dining set was made from solid oak and built by hand. He hit the wall with a loud thump and crashed to the floor, still attached to the chair. Unable to put out his arms to soften his fall, he landed facedown on the hardwood flooring and was knocked out.

  Blake had the gun in hand before Guthrie smacked into the wall, but he couldn’t stop stupid. He stared in horror at his unconscious prisoner lying in the middle of the room. Thankfully, Shelby reacted quickly and was on her knees checking for the man’s pulse within seconds. She directed Alice to bring an ice pack and smelling salts.

  “We’ve got to get this coat off him, Blake. He could have broken bones or worse.”

  Her words set him into action. He holstered his gun and knelt beside Guthrie, unzipping the coat holding him to the chair. The big man crumpled completely, his arms beneath his chest. They worked together to turn him over. His nose was bleeding and possibly broken and there was a gash on his right temple.

  Oliver was so engaged by all the excitement that he’d gotten up from the table and now leaned on his walker at Shelby’s side. He shook his head. “That man’s dumber than a box of rocks.”

  “Luckily, his head is harder than a rock.” Shelby put her ear close to his face. “He’s still breathing.”

  “Thank God.” Alice handed Shelby a damp washcloth to wipe away the blood. “This is a nightmare. We can’t afford another lawsuit. You need to get him out of here.”

  “Could you take your father into the back room and make sure you both stay there?” Blake directed, his face a mask of calm control. He took the smelling salts from her hand. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  Alice glanced from Blake to Shelby, breathing too fast and looking paler than usual. She grabbed Oliver’s arm. “Come on.”

  “I don’t want to go to my room,” he argued, his brows pulling together as he stood his ground.

  “Mr. Booth, your daughter is ready to pass out, so if you want to help, go in the back and have her breathe into a paper bag.”

  Oliver looked at Alice, his eyes filled with concern. When she hurried toward the back room he followed, pushing his walker faster than he was prone to.

  “Should I go help her?”

  “No. I need you here, Shel.”

  The smelling salts brought Guthrie around immediately. He moaned and put his hands to his head, eyes still closed. Blake had the gun trained on him and Shelby stood out of reach. When he finally opened his eyes and looked up, he went c
ompletely still.

  Blake motioned for him to stand. He struggled slowly to his feet. Unsteady and still dizzy from his collision with the wall, he swayed slightly. He favored his left arm, holding it to his side.

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Why would we do that? We’re private investigators, not hit men.”

  “I heard you talking with the other two. You’re worried I’ll sue.”

  “I guess we didn’t need the smelling salts after all.”

  “You don’t have to worry. I swear. Just let me go. I’ll leave town and never come back.”

  “Personally, I’m less worried about you filing a lawsuit than I am about letting a murderer go free.”

  Guthrie swore through clenched teeth, “I didn’t kill Sadie!” He turned to Shelby, regret and sadness pooling in his eyes. “I really am sorry I hurt you. I’d just come from Heath’s place that day. He told me about Dugan finding Sadie’s body and I lost it. I jumped on one of the snowmobiles and rode back to her house as fast as I could. I guess I thought… she’d show up and none of it would be true.”

  Blake holstered his gun.

  Guthrie stared at him for a moment, obviously weighing his options. Finally his shoulders relaxed and he expelled a breath. “You mind if I sit down and have some of that coffee? I’m feeling a little weak in the knees.”

  When they were all sitting, Shelby poured him a cup and handed him the plate of cookie bars. He made three disappear so fast she thought he’d inhaled them.

  “Thanks. It’s nice being in a house with a family. People who care about each other. I haven’t had that since I was twelve.” He spread his hands on the tabletop. “That’s when my mom died and they stuck me in my first of six foster homes. I’d hoped Sadie and I could be a family, but now…”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Guthrie. For your mother and for Sadie.” She reached out and put her hand over his big meaty paw.

  Tears welled in his eyes and he dipped his chin toward his chest. “No one ever said that to me before.”

  Blake cleared his throat. “There is a way to show how much you loved Sadie. Help us bring her killer to justice.”