Fatality by Firelight

by Lynn Cahoon

  “Somehow I don’t find that more comforting, since it means someone who lives in Aspen Hills is a murderer.” She closed her eyes, not wanting to say the next idea. “Do you really think Brit could have been mad enough about Christina to kill the guy? I understand betrayal. It’s a hard emotion to deal with, but murder?”

  “No.” Seth’s answer was so quick and forceful, Cat opened her eyes to watch him in the dark. He shook his head hard. “Look, I don’t think Tommy was as good a catch as everyone else did for Brit, but I know the kid couldn’t have killed someone. Especially not someone she thought she loved.”

  “Sounds like you know her pretty well.”

  A sigh came from the driver’s side of the car. “Did I date Brit while you were gone? Yep. We had some fun. But I didn’t marry her.”

  “Not like me and Michael.” Cat added the part of the sentence Seth had left off. “Look, I’ve got a headache and I can see this conversation might go downhill fast. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

  He didn’t stop her as she climbed out of the car, but he did meet her at the other side. Seth handed her the keys after hitting the button to remote-lock the vehicle. “Sorry.”

  She watched from the window next to the front door as he made his way to his truck and after a few minutes pulled away from the front of the house.

  “Uh, oh. Trouble in paradise?” Jeffrey Blank had come up behind her and was now looking over her shoulder at the taillights of Seth’s truck.

  “Not in the least. I’m just worried about him driving in this weather.” Cat shook off the feeling of unease the man caused in her and then secured the locks on the front door. “See you in the morning.”

  She started up the stairwell as the clock struck eleven. The retreat was almost over and in less than a day, she’d have her house back. And hopefully, she’d know how to react to Seth’s revelation about dating Brit. Hell, she knew he hadn’t been a monk, but for some reason the sting was still there. Maybe because she suspected Michael had been involved with the girl too. Although Brit claimed they were just friends, Cat didn’t feel like she could trust the woman’s statement.

  Two out of the three guys Brittany O’Malley had dated that Cat knew about were now dead. Was that a total coincidence or would Seth be number three?

  Chapter 18

  Cat paused as a knock came at her door. Her jeans were half way on and the dress she’d wore earlier lay on the bed next to a dark sweat shirt.

  “Cat? Are you all right?” Shauna called through the locked door.

  “I’m fine. Just tired, and I have a whopper of a headache.” All these things were true, but not why she didn’t want Shauna to see her dressing to sneak out of the house. She felt like she was back in high school and avoiding being grounded for taking off to Denver for a concert. But if Shauna knew what she was going to do, she’d either talk her out of going or, worse, demand to go along. If she was going to get answers, she had to be alone. And for some reason, it felt like it had to be tonight. Tomorrow morning with the bright sun shining through the windows, this mission might seem foolhardy.

  Sometimes doing was better than asking permission. This was one of those times.

  “Do you want me to make you some coffee? Sometimes the caffeine can drive your headaches away.” Shauna was still at the door.

  Cat felt like a real heel. Sucking in a deep breath, she called back. “I’ve got a Coke. I’ll take a warm bath, then head to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She glanced at the clock. Eleven thirty. The bar didn’t close until one. She had plenty of time. But only if Shauna believed her lie.

  “Okay then.” Shauna hesitated, then added, “Sleep well.”

  Cat waited to hear Shauna’s door close, then watched the clock tick by ten more minutes. She finished dressing, pulling on an old pair of boots to wear under her jeans, put a cami under her sweater for extra layers, and then sat, waiting. She’d go out the back door, where her heavy parka hung along with her gloves and hat. By midnight at the latest she’d have walked to Bernie’s and could talk to Brit.

  Cat had already decided not to bring up Michael or Seth in the conversation. No, she wanted to know what Brit and Dante had talked about last night. Bernie’s didn’t seem like the type of bar the well-dressed player would hang out at, even on a business trip. Dante was more likely to have a bottle of expensive Scotch in the fully stocked condo he had probably bought when Martin had started going to Covington.

  Okay, so this was all conjecture, but that was her job. As a fiction writer, she filled in holes, and this story had more holes than a pasta strainer. Dante was the key to this whole thing. Her uncle wasn’t able to ask the hard questions since there wasn’t a speck of evidence pointing to the man—but she wasn’t law enforcement, now, was she?

  She could hear her uncle saying that same thing when he found out what she’d done. “You’re not law enforcement, Cat, I am.”

  Maybe he wouldn’t find out.

  *

  She passed by Mrs. Rice’s house. A single light burned in the second level, and Cat couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw the woman standing in the window. Great. Now by morning, everyone would know that Cat left the house alone the night before. Probably most of the gossip would be about her sneaking out to sleep with Seth.

  She pushed through the what-ifs, and by the time she’d reached the bar, her head was clear. She opened the outside door to find the bar dark and almost empty. She checked the clock on the wall; it had just turned midnight. Brit stood at the bar, watching her.

  “Where is everyone? It’s Saturday night, right?” Cat pulled off her gloves and her hat and stuffed them in her pocket.

  “The storm has everyone hunkered down. You know it’s supposed to snow five to eight inches tonight, right?” She waved to the last couple who were at the exit now. “See you guys next time.”

  “I won’t be long,” said Cat.

  Brit grabbed her pack of cigarettes and took one out. She held out the pack to Cat. “Want one?”

  Cat shook her head. “I don’t smoke; besides, it’s illegal, isn’t it?”

  “What, are you going to tell your uncle? No one’s here but you, me, and George.” She nodded to the man sleeping at the bar as she lit the cigarette, drawing in a long, deep breath. “You’re like that song: You don’t smoke, you don’t drink, what do you do, Cat?”

  “I drink.” She glanced at the pool table. “I’ve had a few in here since I got back.”

  “Fine, you have some vices. How long do we have to do the polite chitchat before you ask me what you want to know?” She leaned against the other side of the bar, watching Cat. “I’m betting it’s about Seth. I think you’ve been over Michael for a while.”

  “Surprise: It’s not about either.” Cat noticed the coffee pot on the side of the bar and inclined her head toward it. “Can I have coffee?”

  Brit poured her a cup and set it in front of her. “Well, then, what has you walking to my bar in this snowstorm? Can’t sleep? Need a friend so you can cry on their shoulder?”

  Cat sipped the hot liquid. “I want to know how you know Dante Cornelio.” The shock on Brit’s face reinforced Cat’s feeling her intuition was spot on.

  “Why do you want to know?” Brit looked around the bar, but except for a man sleeping at the end of the bar after, apparently, one too many, they were alone.

  “I think he has something to do with Tommy’s death.” Cat laid her cards on the table. For some reason, right now, she trusted Brit. At least she didn’t think she’d have Cat killed for asking. Not like Dante.

  “What’s between me and Dante has nothing to do with Tommy.” Brit crushed the half-smoked cigarette into an ashtray. She didn’t look at Cat.

  “I don’t believe you. I guess I’ll just have to ask Dante why he was here last night.” Cat stood.

  Brit waved her down. “I don’t think you want to do that. Dante’s complicated.”

  “You mean connected.” Cat sat back down on the
stool.

  Brit laughed as she poured a cup of coffee for herself. “So you aren’t as naïve as you look. Yes, Dante’s connected. I had to pick up a package for him yesterday, so he came to collect it from me. No big deal.”

  “What was in the package?” When Brit didn’t answer, Cat watched her face to see if she’d give anything away. “It was a book, wasn’t it?”

  “Isn’t there a law saying I don’t have to incriminate myself?” Brit shrugged then set down her cup. “Look, my dad had agreed to get something for Dante because he owed him money.”

  “Gambling?”

  Brit’s laugh was short and hard. “If you call running a business gambling. No, Dante lent my dad some money when the bar was having a downturn. So when he couldn’t pay back the loan, he offered a barter of sorts.”

  “And it wasn’t Tommy’s death?” Cat couldn’t even imagine why Dante would want to have the ski bum bumped off.

  “No. Tommy messed up the original barter and, yeah, Dante was steamed, but I guess someone else was just as mad and Dante’s hired guy came too late.” Brit considered her. “If you’re wired, I don’t think I’ve said anything that would hold up in court.”

  “I’m not wired. My uncle doesn’t even know I’m here.” Cat’s gut twisted. If she’d guessed wrong about Brit, she’d just told her that no one would stop her if she decided Cat knew too much.

  “Michael tried to keep you safe, and now you just walk straight into the fire. Can’t you just be satisfied that I didn’t have anything to do with Tommy’s death?”

  This time, Cat was the one not to answer the question.

  “I’ll tell you one more thing, then I’m closing up the bar. I’ll drive you home if you want.”

  “I can walk.” Cat took her gloves out of her pocket. “So what are you going to tell me?”

  A horn sounded outside. Brit turned off the bar lights and walked over to rouse the sleeping man. “Your cab’s here, George.”

  After he was gone, she stood at the door, motioning Cat to leave as well. “Michael taught me how to get a book out of the library without a valid card.”

  *

  Cat thought about Brit’s last statement all the way home. Did it mean what she thought it did? Brit had stolen the book? Both books? But why steal a book, just to return it? Her mind was reeling, and she had more questions now than she had before she’d left to visit with Brit.

  As Cat opened the kitchen door, she saw a movement at the table. Stifling a scream, she flipped on the overhead lights. Shauna sat at the table, a bottle of whisky, and a shot glass sitting in front of her.

  “You aren’t as sneaky as you think you are.” She held up the bottle. “Want a shot while you tell me why you snuck out of the house tonight? I’m pretty sure it’s not to see Seth since he called here a few minutes ago and wanted to know if you were awake.”

  Cat closed the door behind her, got her own shot glass, and sat next to her friend. “You’re right. I didn’t go to see Seth. I went to Bernie’s.”

  Shauna poured her drink. “We had alcohol here.”

  “I went to find out why Dante was there last night.” Cat took the glass and quickly threw the liquor down her throat. She shivered as the liquid burned all the way down to her stomach.

  “Did you?”

  Cat nodded. “I think so.”

  “Do you want to share?” Shauna’s eyes twinkled in the dim light.

  “Brit took the Hemingway book. At least the second one. I can’t prove it, and she knows that, but she took the book and gave it to Dante to pay back her father’s debt to him.” Cat shook her head. “And Tommy probably stole the first one, but he got the wrong book. So Dante killed him.”

  “I don’t think Dante’s the type to do his own dirty work.” Shauna swirled the amber liquid in her small glass.

  The wind started up and Cat listened as the shutters outside the kitchen window threatened to blow off their hinges. Finally, she nodded. “You’re probably right about that. And since we know he was talking to the hit man the day after Tommy’s death, we know he knows people.”

  “John. The guy who tried to kidnap Christina is named John.” Shauna smiled when Cat stared at her. “Your uncle let it slip yesterday. He will chatter about anything when he’s eating a slice of my pumpkin pie.”

  “You’re sneaky.” Cat rolled her shoulders. “I guess I better get to bed for real this time.”

  “No more sneaking out, at least not tonight.” Shauna took both glasses and rinsed them at the sink.

  “Yes, Mother.” Cat paused at the door. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  Shauna put the bottle away in the cabinet and turned off the lights. “You might not realize this yet, but you’re not alone any more. You have me, and Seth, and even your Uncle Pete. We all care about you.”

  “It was pretty stupid to sneak out.” Cat flushed. She didn’t like admitting she was wrong, but at least this failure of logic had gained her some new information. Just not about Tommy’s death. “This investigating thing is harder than I thought it would be.”

  “Things will look clearer in the morning, Nancy Drew.” Shauna followed as Cat went upstairs. “They always do.”

  *

  Cat rose before five on Sunday. She looked at the red-eyed woman in the mirror and patted down the cowlick that always appeared on the right side of her head in the morning. She turned on the water for the shower and mumbled, “Last day of the retreat.”

  By the time she’d gotten dressed and headed downstairs, her mood had improved and she had a plan. One that didn’t involve trying to figure out why a book would go missing or who would kill a local ski bum. Today all she was going to focus on was saying good-bye to the guests. But first on the schedule, after grabbing a mug, a carafe of coffee—and maybe a muffin—would be writing time.

  “Good morning,” she called out to Shauna when she entered the warm kitchen.

  Her uncle turned around and looked at her. “Glad you’re up. We have some things to talk about.”

  Cat tried not to groan as she went to the coffee pot and poured a normal-size cup. She side-eyed Shauna who stood at the counter putting warm pumpkin muffins in a basket for the retreat guests. In turn, Shauna shrugged a nonverbal answer to her unspoken question: She hadn’t called her uncle. This impromptu visit was all on him.

  “Don’t think I don’t see you two communicating over there.” Uncle Pete chuckled. “I swear, you are turning into an old married couple who can talk without even opening their mouths.”

  Shauna held out a muffin, and Cat took it and the coffee to the table. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Shauna didn’t call me to come over, but now I’m wondering what I don’t know.” He peered at her. “You haven’t been out investigating again, have you? Or is Dante just showing up here at the house, feeding you information?”

  “Is Dante a person of interest?” Cat peeled off the paper wrapper on the muffin and took a bite. A cream-cheese filling topped off the pumpkin muffin and almost made her sigh in pleasure.

  “Wherever Dante Cornelio goes, he’s a person of interest. So stay away from the guy. I hear he’s been putting the moves on you.” He studied her over his coffee cup. “Besides, I thought you were dating Seth. I’m in the pro-normal-guy camp.”

  Cat set the muffin down on a napkin. “So Dante isn’t a normal guy? Huh. And I thought all he had going for him was his immense wealth and crazy good looks. Billionaires are popular in the romance genre right now; maybe I’m doing research for a new book.”

  “Cut the crap. I wasn’t born yesterday. You know Dante’s connected.” Her uncle set his cup down a little too hard. “I’m worried about you.”

  “The rumor mill is going way too crazy on this one. I’m not interested in the rich mob guy, okay?” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you came over this early just to ask me about my love life.”

  “Actually, I didn’t. I got a call from Miss Applebome at four this mornin
g asking me to come over to the library. Apparently she wants to amend her statement on what was stolen.”

  Shauna brought over the coffee pot and refilled their cups. “They’re missing more books?”

  “No. She wants to rescind the entire report. Apparently, she says there was just a misunderstanding about the book. It’s on a special loan program.” He leaned back into his chair. “Honestly, I think she’s been coerced into changing her statement. So now I have to figure out if she really means to drop the case, or if I need to look into someone strong-arming her. It’s never easy around here.”

  “At least she doesn’t think it’s me anymore. That woman can hold a grudge forever.” Now, with this revelation, maybe she didn’t even need to mention what Brit told her last night. She wanted to get the subject off her and the non-relationship with Dante. “What about the murder? Do you have any suspects yet?”

  “I’ve confirmed our hit man wasn’t in the area when Tommy died, so he’s going down for the attempted kidnapping and a few other murders. Seems like he’s a trophy killer and likes keeping his memories close. He had a briefcase full of items that we’ve matched back to at least five murders all over the country. It’s above my paygrade, that’s for sure. The feds are coming to take him into custody on Monday.” He sipped his coffee. “I hate to say it, but I doubt the kidnapping charge will even go to trial. We’ve got a few people ahead of us that want the guy for worse activities.”

  “Doesn’t seem quite fair, but I get it. Was he your only suspect?”

  He shook his head. “You’re not getting much more out of me. At least not this morning. Let’s just say I’m looking at a few additional people of interest, and no”—he held up a hand—“before you ask, it’s not one of your guests.”

  “Christina’s a good kid. There’s no way she could have done this.” Cat relaxed back into her chair. “I feel bad about what’s been going on in her life lately. She doesn’t have it easy.”

  “I’ve talked to the police chief in Seattle. They’re going over the evidence in the stalker case now, just to make sure they didn’t miss something. It’s a good time since she’s out of harm’s way.” He looked at the clock. “They told me they’d give me a call if anything hit, but I think that was more a professional courtesy. I’ve got to get over to the library and see if I can change Miss Applebome’s mind about withdrawing the complaint.”