by CeeCee James
“Oh, you’d heard from her recently?” That went against the information Frank had given me, that they hadn’t been speaking for several years.
“Yes. It was kind of out of the blue. We hadn’t talked for quite some time. You see, she was having an affair. Frankly, we disapproved. It led to an ugly falling out that neither of us seemed to be able to bridge. And then one day, she calls. Naturally, the fact that she wanted financial help didn’t please my husband. Unfortunately, with today’s economy we weren’t in a position to do much.” Mrs. Spalding made a helpless motion with her hands.
“I completely understand.” I nodded.
“Then, Veronica called me back a few weeks ago and told me not to worry. That she had everything figured out. I asked her how, and she said she had some good news, that she was breaking off the affair, and that someone would be giving her a check at the charity dinner she’d be attending soon. She actually sounded hopeful. It was such a different tone then I was used to hearing from her. She was usually so”—Mrs. Spalding seemed to be searching for a word—“condescending.”
I took a deep breath and bobbed my head again. Time for the big guns. I clenched my hand to strengthen my courage. “Do you know who Veronica was having an affair with?”
She glanced at me in surprise. “What? I thought everyone knew. I figured that’s why she was so disliked in this town.”
“Disliked?” I licked my lips that had gone paper-dry.
“I thought you knew. She died at his house, you know.”
My blood ran cold. From this morning, I had suspected, but I honestly was still shocked at having it confirmed. Veronica Vanderton and Mr. Miquel. Of course. I remembered the way he touched her cheek at the dinner, and how, after she’d died, he’d said he’d lost everything. At the time, I thought he was feeling passionate about the loss of his sword. But now it all made sense.
But I still didn’t know who killed Veronica. Was it Mrs. Miquel? She had the strongest motive. What was this about Veronica getting money to cover her defaulted loan? And who stole the sword?
The questions whirled in my mind. We chatted for a few more minutes, with our conversation ending with me again extending my condolences. I tried to leave her my phone number in case she should need help in some way, but she assured me that her brother was flying in that week.
Back out on the sidewalk, I tried to digest everything I knew. My thoughts were thick and spinning, and I wanted to get hold of Frank right away.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk, still deep in thought. A dog barking snapped me out of my reverie and I looked up.
There was a car hurtling straight at me.
Chapter 24
The driver in the car twisted the wheel and the car jumped onto the sidewalk. I dove toward the grass and landed on my side. The fall knocked the air out of me. I felt a gust as the car’s tires passed within inches of my feet.
The driver spun the wheel, and the car’s tires chewed up the dirt as it flew back to the road, narrowly avoiding impact with one of the maple trees.
I lay there with my mouth gaping like a fish, struggling to breathe. Have to. Move. Have to. Move. I rolled to my side and tried to crawl toward the porch.
Squealing tires signaled the car disappearing around the corner. I heard its engine revving as it sped away.
“Good heavens! Are you okay?” Mrs. Spalding crouched next to me. I hadn’t heard the front door open.
I couldn’t nod. I struggled to breathe. Relax, this will pass. Like a syphon, suddenly I was able to suck in a breath. Greedily I gasped, arms splayed out on the grass.
“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Spalding fretted, two wrinkles deepening between her eyebrows.
I glanced in her direction, still gasping in relief. But I nodded and gave her a thumbs up to alleviate her worry.
She patted my arm. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Slowly, I shook my head and then rolled to my side. I sat up, still sucking in air. My ribs ached, and each breath felt like fire.
The effects of the adrenaline kicked in then, and my body started to tremble. Somebody just tried to run me over! I plucked my phone out of my pocket, hoping I hadn’t crushed it.
It was fine, but a bruise on my hip from where I’d landed on it made me yelp when I drew my phone out. I dialed Frank. No time for texting now.
“How ya doing, Short Stuff?” he answered, sounding somewhat cheerful.
I cringed, knowing I was about to ruin it. “Uh, Frank….”
“What’s wrong?” Immediately his voice became tight.
I swallowed. “Someone just tried to run me over.”
“What? Where are you?”
I grimaced as I sat up straighter. Grass and leaves stuck in my hair. I started to pluck them out. “Outside Veronica Vanderton’s place.”
“What kind of car? Describe everything you remember.” His voice was pure business.
“Yellow. Two door. Small. A spoiler on the back. Last three digits of the license plate are D44”
“Got it,” he said. “Don’t move, I’m sending help.”
I hung up and looked at Mrs. Spalding gratefully. “Thank you so much. I’m sure it’s because he saw you that he left. Help is on its way.”
“I saw the car too,” she said. “I can describe it to them if you want.”
It was about five minutes before I heard sirens. Officer Jefferson was the cop who showed up. He took our statements, but before he finished, he had a call on his mic. He listened and then keyed back, “ten-four.”
He had a big smile as he faced us. “They caught him.”
“Really? That fast?” I said.
“Yeah, we had him pulled over just a few nights ago, so we had an idea of who he was and where he was heading. They caught him with dirt and grass still crammed into his fender.
I laid back in the grass in relief. And then I told Jefferson, “Send someone to Miquel’s house. Denise Miquel might be trying to make her escape.”
I’d forgotten I wasn’t talking to Frank. Officer Jefferson smiled at me in the most pacifying way. “You just rest. You’ve had a lot of stress this morning.”
Frustrated, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Frank. —Please, go to Miquel’s house. She’s the one who killed Veronica Vanderton.
My phone rang.
“Give me something,” Frank said. His voice was still stiff and unemotional. I could imagine his colleagues were with him.
“Denise killed Veronica.” I heard a gasp and realized Mrs. Spalding was still standing next to me. But it couldn’t be helped. I needed to make sure they caught Denise before she left.
“She never went to her mother’s, or at least she went later than she said. Miguel and Veronica were having an affair. Veronica went to Denise to make a deal, probably in exchange for leaving her husband alone. Veronica was desperate to save her house from being sold to her arch enemy, Gayle. Denise made a plan to meet Veronica in the study during dinner to give her the money. Instead, Denise stabbed her with the tainted pin.”
“We’re already on our way to pick her up. Her alibi timeline was off by four hours from when she’d said she’d been with her mother. There are some pieces missing, but we had enough to bring her in for questioning.” He cleared his throat. “You done giving a statement?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Mrs. Spalding saw the car, so she corroborated the color and style.”
“Oh, I don’t think we’re going to have any trouble with this guy. He’s singing in tune with the color of his car. Just like a canary.”
“Who was it?” I asked, hesitant to find out.
“Robert the valet from the other night. And let me tell you, he’s got a story to tell.” His voice softened. “Go back to the B&B so I don’t worry about you. I’ll stop by when I’m done.”
I wanted to reassure him not to worry about me, but my ribs hurt too badly for that. Instead, I found myself more than willing to agree.
Officer Jefferson helped me to my feet, and I l
imped over to my van. Apparently, I’d twisted my ankle in my dive for safety.
“Excuse me, Georgie?” Mrs. Spalding’s anxious face appeared at my opened van door. I cringed, remembering what she’d overheard.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m so, so sorry. I never meant for you to hear that.” I couldn’t imagine what the poor woman was going through.
“No, it’s all right. I mean, it’s not all right, but I’m glad I know.” She breathed heavily, her narrow nose flaring. “You know, it’s ironic. I always warned Veronica. I told her she was playing with fire. I just had a feeling something like this would happen.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say.
Her bottom lip trembled, and I reached out a hand to pat her arm. Ever so slightly, she pulled away, and straightened her spine, composing herself. “You lay with dogs, you’re bound to pick up fleas.” She gave an emphatic nod.
“They’re not going to get away with it. Justice will be done.” I said.
“Justice?” She turned and eyed the house, and then crossed her arms over her chest. “Justice has never brought someone back. Veronica made her choices. Nothing I said could ever make her see that she was going the wrong way.” And without another word, Mrs. Spalding walked up the driveway and entered the house.
I felt sick. I really did. The world could get so dark and dirty. Sometimes, it was hard to see the light.
My ribs throbbed, reminding me that I needed to get to the B&B. Heaven help me if Frank arrived there before I did.
I started the van and drove to Baker street, feeling emptier than I had in a long, long time.
Chapter 25
Frank had filled Cecilia in, and she’d pampered me and fussed over me from the moment I pulled into the driveway. Soon after I walked into the house, she had me settled in the living room in front of the fire with a quilt drawn up over my lap. Soft music played in the background. I leaned my head back against the chair and closed my eyes, loving the down time.
The valet had tried to run me over. Crazy. But it made me remember how I’d caught him talking angrily into his phone that night. I wondered now at what his involvement was. I couldn’t wait to talk to Frank.
It turned out it was going to be a while before he came over. But he’d promised to call me from the station, after they finished the interview with Robert Evans.
After an hour of relaxation, I decided I needed some fresh air. Maybe I could take Bear for a walk. I poked my head into the kitchen to let Cecelia know. She wasn’t happy with me leaving.
“Frank told me to keep my eye on you!” But having just ascribed to the medical restorative powers of fresh air not more than a couple hours earlier, she probably felt she couldn’t say no. With a swoosh of the dish towel in my direction, she shooed me out.
I walked over to Oscar’s place, hoping he wouldn’t be too put out if I just showed up. He was a stickler for a schedule, that one.
He answered the door with his usual gruff frown, his hair sticking up in the back.
“Did I wake you?” I asked.
“What? No. I never nap.” He followed my gaze to the hair tufts on top his head, and sent an arthritic hand up to go smooth them down. “Just checking my eyelids for pinholes is all.”
That caused a chuckle to come out of me, followed by a groan as the pain in my ribs flared.
“You okay?” His eyes flicked to where my hand clutched my side.
“I’m fine. Just almost got run over by a car. Hurt my ribs diving to safety.”
“Mm,” he said noncommittally, but his eyes sparkled with a bit of respect.
“Remind you of your FBI days?” I asked, hinting. I really wanted to ask him why Derek’s name had caused such a reaction. Maybe Oscar had chased someone with the same last name at one point?
“You liked that tidbit, did you?” He smiled and rubbed his white whiskered chin, obviously pleased with himself that he’d been able to surprise me. Then, his eyes narrowed. “Now, why are you here?” Back to gruff as usual.
“I was wondering if I could walk Bear,” I said, waggling my fingers at the Pomeranian who jumped up against my leg at the sound of my voice.
“Walk her? Confounded thing does anything but walk. She flies, jumps, rolls, twists, and gets stuck. Wish the little fluff ball would walk.” His smile betrayed his complaining as he glanced at the dog.
I started to chuckle again, but quickly cut it off.
He noticed my grimace. “And you, Missy, are in no shape to tackle a monster like her. She’d tear you apart and leave you for dead.”
The monster in question smiled up at me, her pink tongue panting. “I very much doubt that, Oscar.” Slowly I eased myself to sitting on his top step. The wood creaked under my weight, reminding me of how Frank and I were soon going to replace the treads. Bear set her two front feet on my leg and licked my cheek. Then, she sprang down the stairs, yipping wildly. I looked to see what she was chasing.
Another robin, which quickly flew up into the tree.
Robin, my sign of spring. My sign of hope.
As if sensing what I was thinking, Oscar muttered, “Trees are like people, you know that? Some trees bring shelter to helpless creatures. Some bring shade, some food. But it’s only the strong ones that can weather the storms. Their roots grow deeper and their branches wider. They grow stronger. And they are able to give even more.”
His words brought tears to my eyes. I knew he’d weathered some storms, and he knew some of mine. We sat there in silence. After a moment, he whistled through his teeth. “Bear! Come here, Bear.”
The little Pomeranian ignored him.
“Bear!” He snapped his fingers.
The dog turned and panted, pink tongue lolling out.
“Come here you little fuzz ball,” he growled.
The dog’s dark eyes watched him as if deciding if her owner was serious, before a grasshopper caught her interest. She immediately sprang after it.
“Confound it. Peanut! Come here.”
The dog abandoned the insect and came bounding over toward Oscar. She scampered up the stairs, her nails scrabbling against the wood. He caught her in his arms with a wheezy grunt and lifted her to his chest. Mumbling words I couldn’t understand, he returned into the house, shutting the door behind him.
Well, okay then. I guess the conversation was over. I smiled, despite myself, wondering what else I was going to do until Frank called.
My phone rang. Easing to my side ever so carefully, I gently slid it out.
“Hello?” I gasped.
“Georgie? Are you okay?” Frank’s voice was full of concern.
“I’m fine. Just a little bruised. Tell me how the meeting went!”
“Well, this will be Robert Evans’ third strike. He was ready to make a deal.”
“Oh, great!”
“You were right. Denise Miquel did murder Veronica Vanderton for having an affair with her husband. And, you were right, Veronica did try to extort money from Denise to pay off her house loan.”
I leaned against the stair tread. I’d been right. I knew it. “I remember him crying when she died. He touched her cheek. He looked so lost and devastated. He didn’t know Denise’s plan, did he?”
“We brought Steve Miquel in too, and he fully cooperated. He says he expected his wife at the dinner, and had been blindsided when Denise said she was with her sick mother.”
I nodded. That must have been the phone call I’d overheard when he was in the foyer. “What was Robert’s role? Was Gayle guilty?”
“Robert got roped into it because Denise gave him the bail money for his drug trafficking charge.”
I remembered Frank mentioning the charge when they pulled the valet over the other night.
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “But how on earth did Denise get connected with him in the first place?”
“The Marshall’s Bickford Enterprises shipping company was used for the drug smuggling crime that Robert got arrested for. Of course, Gayle c
ame to Denise to commiserate when it happened. Denise kept the information in her back pocket. She’d been planning this for a while, and knew she’d need someone willing to commit a crime. At some point, she searched who’d been arrested and approached Robert, offering him money for a lawyer in exchange for help. ”
“Got it.”
“So Robert described the charity night like this. Supposedly, he didn’t know that Veronica was going to be murdered. His role was supposed to be simple. Denise needed him to keep a look out, and to later sell the sword. After Denise stabbed Veronica with the pin, she went into the conference room and swiped the war relic. She must have dropped the peacock pin there on accident when she picked the sword up. Her motive for stealing the sword was to muddy the waters, hoping to get the police interested in the stolen party, rather than dig too deeply into how Veronica had died.”
After that, Denise snuck out the back door and slipped through the forest service land, maybe using the same app you did, to where she’d left her rental car. From there, she’d simply taken off and driven to her mother’s. Which was why her time line was four hours off from what she’s given to the police.”
“Got it,” I said, following.
“Robert was supposed to fence the sword for her. When we caught him the other night, he’d just dropped it off at that house that sells stolen goods.”
“Wow. Can you track it?” I asked.
“Detective Kirby is on it. The fencers are being surprisingly cooperative in the face of the threat of having their computer records being torn apart.”
“That’s good news. By the way, I know who shot at me.”
“Are you going to say Gayle Marshall?” Frank asked.
“I thought it was her for a hot minute, but then realized it couldn’t have been. It was Denise. See, I’d been so focused on Gayle, that I’d forgotten that Denise had also been in all those sharp-shooting competitions. She was an expert shot. But what really sealed it for me was the fact that only Denise or Miquel had access to their gun safe where the Winchester was kept. It just made sense.””