Telling Tales

by Shiloh Walker

  Three murders. Would have been four, except Kim had gotten away. Had it all been about money? Had the scene just been staged so that it looked personal? He felt eyes on him and he looked up, seeing Darci staring at him with a confused, curious look.

  “What?” she asked softly.

  He shrugged. “Nothing.” He pushed his cup away and forced a grin. “You’re right. That coffee will tear up a belly. I’ve got to get back to the station, go over a few things,” he said. Leaning forward, he put his mouth by her ear and said, “Go home. Stay there. Don’t talk to anybody.”

  Arching a brow at him, she opened her lips to ask a question and he reached out and pressed his finger to her lips. “Don’t ask questions. I can’t answer them. But do this for me. I’m going to advise the deputies to be extra careful, but you do not go anywhere.”

  Chapter Seven

  Tricia ignored the knock on the door.

  Bryce’s chauvinistic attitude aggravated the hell out of her, but he knew how to get the paperwork done. Kim could do it, screwed it up in the process, but at least Tricia didn’t have to deal with it.

  So until Kim got out of the hospital and was able to come back to work, Tricia had to do it herself again.

  But the fist pounding on the door just banged again. And again. Finally, she tugged her glasses off and left the office, staring through the door at the grim outline of the Sheriff.

  Opening the door, she stepped aside. “Hello, Sheriff Grant. Gallery isn’t open on Sundays. And I’m behind now,” she said wearily. “So much paperwork. I’ve got a million things to get done, including trying to hire some more employees.”

  “I’m going to have to intrude for a while,” he said.

  She sighed and let him enter, pushing the door closed behind him before she walked back to her office, his feet soundless on the plush carpet behind her.

  “I don’t have much time, Sheriff. Can we make this fast?”

  The Sheriff’s hazel eyes looked blandly back at her through the lenses of his glasses. “I can try. I need to know where you were last night and when Bryce was killed. Then where were you three weekends ago.”

  Air trapped in her lungs and she blinked once, frowning at him, “Excuse me?”

  “Can you answer the question, Ms. Casey?”

  “You’re trying to get my whereabouts for the nights my friends were killed,” she said, amazed, staring at him with wide eyes. She dropped down onto the chair just inside the door, the strength leaving her legs as she stared up at him. “You’re serious.”

  “Ms. Casey…”

  She passed her glasses from one hand to another as she hollowly said, “Last night, I was home. Alone. But the night Bryce died…well, I’ve told you that. I was in Columbus for a dinner meeting with several other gallery owners. I’ve been thinking of expanding and…” her voice trailed away and she realized she wasn’t going to be able to do that right now. All of her plans-this would ruin her. Having a gallery where her employees and contract artists were being murdered was one thing.

  But nobody would want to do business with somebody accused of murder.

  “And I was with Beth the night Carrie was killed,” Tricia whispered. “But you can’t ask her, can you?”

  No. But Kellan did have the reports from the deputies who had done the questioning of Carrie’s friends. Fuck. He flipped his notebook open and jotted down a few notes. “You heard about Kim, right?”

  He watched as she nodded slowly. For once, she actually looked her age. Normally, she never let a line show on her face, but right now, she looked totally shell-shocked. He left the gallery a few minutes later, plowing a hand through his hair.

  He couldn’t focus. First, he had thought it was Kim. Then Tricia. Oh, he’d check her story out, verify it. But already he had a bad suspicion that her story would check out.

  Idiot. He was letting Darci skew his thinking. Worrying about her, so convinced it was about her. “It’s not, is it?” he muttered as he returned to his car.

  Totally unaware of the eyes that watched him.

  Tricia was still sitting there, staring dumbly at nothing when the door opened. Sliding Peggy an evil look, she said waspishly, “Well, your plan is working. We’ve got more business than we could ever dream of, Carrie is out of the way and she can’t cause us any more trouble. Beth’s constant bitching is over with and we’ve made buckets off of the works of our artists who were so tragically killed. But now he knows.”

  “He doesn’t know. He may suspect, but if he knew, you’d be on your way to the station,” Peggy snapped. Her salt-and-pepper hair hung in careless ringlets around her face as she tossed her head, rolling her eyes at Tricia.

  “I want to know about Bryce.”

  Peggy arched a brow, her mouth flat. “Excuse me?”

  “Why did you kill Bryce? And Kim? That’s what is causing the trouble. Damn it, if you had just stopped-”

  Peggy sneered. “Oh, don’t go acting like you had nothing to do with any of this. Don’t forget who killed Beth. You’re just as much involved in this as I am. And Kim, hell, she’s a whiny whelp. Useless. What does it matter?”

  “What about Bryce? He wasn’t in the plan. And he was just as annoying as Kim is,” Tricia snapped, control fading fast. She wanted to shout and scream and pummel Peggy’s face. Damned irrational bitch had gotten her into this mess.

  “Bryce was not annoying.”

  Tricia lifted her head, studying Peggy’s face. “Damn it. You were fucking him,” she whispered, narrowing her eyes.

  Peggy moved away, her motions jerky and stilted. “Bryce and I were lovers for a time.”

  “Then how could you kill him?”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks as she collapsed to the floor. “I wasn’t going to. I missed him-he pushed me away, told me I was too clingy. I went to his house that night and we…we…”

  “You fucked,” Tricia said snidely.

  Peggy’s face flushed and she snarled, “I loved him. It was more than just fucking.” Her eyes took on a glassy look as she stared at her hands. “But then he called me Darci again. I hate it when he does that. Hate it. I saw the knife. And he was just sitting there with his back to me, ignoring me…always ignoring me. He’d started fucking that bitch, Kim. I saw them together, damn it. Fucking her as though she actually was something special. She didn’t appreciate him. She just wanted somebody to fuck her sorry ass.”

  Tricia closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Damn it, you let emotions get in the way. You attacked Kim because you’re fucking jealous.”

  Peggy sneered at Tricia. “No. I did it because it was good to keep going and because I didn’t like her. Sooner or later, I’ll finish the job.”

  Tricia pressed her fingers to her temples and muttered, “You’re nuts.”

  She never heard Peggy stand up as she herself rose, walked around the small office, and tapped a finger against her lips. “We have to get everything hammered out. Kellan knows I was home alone. I think he believes me. You need to come up with an-”

  She stopped in mid-sentence as the cold pain sliced through her. She stared down at the silver glint of the knife piercing her chest. Blood bubbled out of her lips as the knife was withdrawn and she slowly sank to the floor.

  “I’ve already got it hammered out,” Peggy said to the still body at her feet. She nudged her ex-partner with her foot and said, “I’m going to be remembered. I may not be the best artist in the world. But at least my art will be remembered.”

  Chapter Eight

  Kellan parked at the station, drumming his fist on the steering wheel.

  His cell phone rang and he tugged it off his belt, recognizing Grady’s number and frowning. Kim was stable. He’d made sure of that.

  “This is Grant.”

  “You need to get down here,” Grady said shortly. “Peggy Ralley just walked in and she’s got blood all over her.”

  “She’s been attacked?”

  “Ahhh…boss, I don’t think it’s her blood.”<
br />
  Understanding dawned in his mind and he threw the car into drive. Peeling out of the parking lot, he said, “I’m coming, but County is about twenty minutes from me. She got a weapon?”

  “Can’t tell. The nurses are talking to her…she looks kind of weird in the eyes.”

  Shit. “Keep her out of that room, Grady. Do not let her in there,” he snapped.

  “Well, gee, I kind of figured that out,” Grady drawled and Kellan could almost see the sarcastic roll of his deputy’s eyes.

  “Son of a bitch.” Not Tricia. Peggy. The quiet, colorless woman who faded into the background, except for her art. He punched the gas and shot through the red light, hitting the lights and sirens, swerving to go around the pickup in front of him. The two-lane highway opened up ahead of him as he sped for the hospital.

  “Boss. I think I should get off the phone. She’s heading my way.”

  The cell phone went silent and Kellan threw it down, swearing viciously. Blood… A snarl escaped his lips and he grabbed the phone again, punching in Darci’s number. Three rings…four rings…five… A sick fear bloomed in his gut, duty warring with the need to make sure Darci was safe.

  The relief that flooded him when Darci answered the phone on the seventh ring was unlike anything he had ever felt.

  “Damn it, what in the hell took you so long to answer the phone?” he demanded. “Are you okay? Where is Hank?”

  Her voice, low and amused, came over the line. “Nice to talk to you, too. I was in the studio, developing some negatives. I’m fine and Hank is sitting in his car, singing along with some cry in your beer music.”

  “Thank God.” Damn it, he wanted to see her, touch her. Kellan hadn’t ever been that afraid before and he suspected his heart wouldn’t start beating normally until he had touched her, held her close against him and felt her heart beating against his, the way it did when he had her naked and wrapped around him.

  “Listen to me. Do not let anybody in your house other than me or Hank. Nobody, you understand me?” he said intensely. “Stay away from the door, stay inside. Got it?”

  She was silent for a long moment and then she said, “What’s going on, Kellan?”

  “No time. I’ve got to go.” His hand clenched around the phone and he bit back the words that were dancing on his tongue. “Do what I said, okay?”

  “Sure. Are you-”

  He took the turn into the hospital at fifty miles an hour, tires squealing. “I’ve got to go… Darci, I think I’m in love with you.”

  Then he hit the end button and tossed the phone down, slamming on the brakes in front of the emergency room. He ran through the automatic doors, down the hall that led to ICU, fear and anger a metallic taste in his throat. Whose blood?

  Grady’s voice rang out down the hall. “I will not tell you again, Miz Ralley. Step back or I will shoot.”

  The laughter that came from her was unlike any he had heard before. High, maniacal, and wild. He slowed to a stop as he veered around the corner, staring at Peggy’s back. No blood… But then she turned around and he saw the chilling smile on her face. Bright red blossoms stained the front of her paint-splattered shirt.

  “Peggy.”

  She smiled at him, a brittle smile. “Things are all messed up. I should have killed Darci that night, and then maybe Bryce would have stopped thinking about her all the time. I wasn’t going to kill him. Not until he called me Darci again. The bastard.”

  He flicked Grady a glance, but then looked back at Peggy when he saw that the deputy was slowly moving closer to the woman’s back.

  “Bryce?”

  Peggy laughed. “I thought you were smarter than this,” she said, shaking her head. “Took you long enough to figure it out. I thought you might put it together after Beth, but you were too busy fucking Darci. Della was going to be next. But then Tricia started to freak out…” her voice trailed off and she wiped a hand down the front of her shirt, lovingly caressing the blood splotches. “Well, she made me mad.”

  “Mind if I ask why you did all this?”

  Grady was just a few feet away now, gun raised. “Well, not for money. I know that’s why Tricia did it. All the great artists died tragically,” she said with a wide smile. She started to reach inside her shirt.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them!” Kellan barked out.

  But she didn’t stop and when he found himself staring down the business end of a Beretta, he finally figured it out. All of it. She wanted them to kill her. She wasn’t here to kill them, but to force them to kill her.

  Suicide by cop, the coolest way to kill yourself… He drew his gun because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let some crazy-ass self-important artist kill him.

  “Put the gun down, Peggy.”

  She laughed, but whatever she was going to say died as her eyes went wide and then fluttered shut. There was a thud as Grady’s gun came down on her skull, a soft thump as her body crumpled to the floor, and then all fell silent.

  Kellan sucked in air, blood roaring in his ears as he lowered the gun, watching as Grady kicked her Beretta away and knelt down, tugging out his cuffs and securing her hands before touching his fingers to her throat. He rose and blew out a breath, his mahogany skin gleaming under a thin coat of sweat, his eyes wide.

  “Son of a bitch. This woman is nuts,” Grady whispered, shaking his head.

  ***

  Tricia’s body was already cool by the time Kellan and two of the deputies broke down the door to the gallery. Peggy Ralley had had some fun before she left. None of the art in the gallery that wasn’t done by her hand had survived her rampage intact. Sculptures lay smashed on the floor. Canvases sliced by a knife, and a few, the two closest to Tricia’s body, had bloody splotches.

  “She used the knife she killed Tricia with,” Kellan murmured quietly.

  Grady knelt by the door, studying the shattered pieces of a rich purple vase. “Why didn’t we see it before now?”

  “No rhyme or reason. We were looking for something that made sense.” Kellan shook his head, straightening over Tricia’s still body. He met the coroner’s gaze as Drake Stillman stepped inside, looking around the gallery with vague surprise in his eyes.

  Things like this didn’t happen in their county.

  Kellan suspected that this past month had been the busiest of the county coroner’s life. He gestured to the bagged knife lying on the table.

  “I’m fairly certain that’s the murder weapon,” he said. “I think she used it to slice up the paintings. We found it on the floor by Tricia’s body, like she’d tossed it away before she walked out. Then she showed up at the hospital with blood on her clothes.”

  Drake’s question was cut off by the ringing of Kellan’s phone. He checked out the number and said, “It’s the hospital,” as he thumbed the talk button. “This is Grant,” he said, turning away from the curious gazes.

  He listened to the low murmur of the nurse on the other end of the line and then hung up the phone, turning back to meet Grady’s eyes. “She’s awake. I’ve got to get back there.”

  ***

  Darci paced the floor, shooting evil looks at the silent phone. Four hours had passed since Kellan had called and she hadn’t heard another thing from him.

  She stood at the window in the dining room, staring out at the silvery moonlight reflecting off the river. I think I’m in love with you…

  “Jerk. How in the hell can you say that and hang up, and not call back?” she muttered, running a hand through her already tumbled hair. It stood up in messy spikes and curls from a hundred nervous passes of her hand. She rested her forehead against the cool pane of glass, closing her eyes and murmuring, “Where in the hell are you?”

  Worry was a gnawing thing in her belly, making her gut churn, tightening her shoulders, aching in her head. Her fingers itched to pick up the phone and call, but she forced herself not to. Calling him, interrupting him…what if he was finding out who the killer was?

  What if…if…what if th
e killer had gotten to him?

  Panic blossomed in her mind and she turned around, bypassing the phone and heading out the front door, jogging down the steps. She heard Hank’s door slam and he met her on the sidewalk.

  “What’s going on, Miss Law? What’s wrong?”

  “Where’s Kellan?” she demanded.

  “Darci, he wants you to stay inside,” Hank said flatly, taking her arm and trying to guide her back up the walk.

  She jerked her arm away and planted herself in Hank’s face, poking him in the chest as she demanded, “Tell me where Kellan is. What in the hell is going on?”

  His face softened and she felt a flush rise in her cheeks as the sympathy darkened his faded gray eyes. “He’s probably back at the hospital. Talking to Peggy Ralley.”

  Darci’s jaw dropped and she felt her shoulders slump. “Not another one. Damn it, what is going on?”

  Hank patted her shoulder. “Maybe I didn’t make that clear, Miss Law. He’s questioning Peggy Ralley. She showed up at the hospital this afternoon, blood splattering her shirt. Pulled a gun on the Sheriff. Turns out the gun wasn’t loaded. Possible that she wanted him to shoot her. They disarmed her somehow-I don’t know the details. But I’d say it’s over.”

  The phone finally rang. Five and half hours after he’d told her that he thought he was in love with her, and then hung up on her. Oh, it had rung a few times before, just shortly after Hank told her about Peggy.

  But it had been everybody but Kellan. Becka, Clive, Brittany…each time, she’d gotten off the phone with a curtness that bordered on outright rudeness, not wanting to talk to anybody but Kellan.

  The phone rang again and she grabbed it, the strength leaving her knees as Kellan’s low voice murmured in her ear, “Wasn’t sure if you’d still be awake.”

  She laughed shakily and said, “Well, I could have tried to go to bed. But I doubt I would have gotten any sleep, considering what you said right before you hung up on me.”