“Someone saw me yesterday.”
“The caterer. It seems you were careless.” Hope was taking a risk by instigating, but she needed to keep Kitty engaged as she tried to devise a plan to subdue and overpower the woman. Subdue and overpower. This wasn’t her first encounter with a killer, so she’d learned a few things that had kept her alive twice before. Now she needed to do it again.
“Damn it!” Kitty’s nostrils flared as her face reddened. “You and your reporter friend had to keep looking for answers. I get why he did. But you? I pushed you down the embankment and you still didn’t stop. So, tell me why was it so important for you to find out who killed a horrible person like Lionel Whitcomb?”
“If they convict the wrong person, justice isn’t served.”
“Justice for Lionel? You’re kidding me, right? He used people! He discarded them when he was done. Just like he did to my mother and to Rona.” Kitty tightened her hold on the knife. Beads of sweat formed at her temples and her face slacked.
Hope suspected killing Lionel had been a very different feeling for Kitty than standing in the kitchen holding a knife on an innocent person. But Hope wasn’t certain she wanted to roll the dice to find out if Kitty was indeed capable of being a cold-blooded killer.
“When I called him to tell him who I was, he laughed. He said he didn’t have any children. He called me a liar. He should have called me his daughter!” Kitty stepped forward, the knife still pointing at Hope.
“You’re right. He should have. He was a terrible human being, but he didn’t deserve to be murdered.” Hope backed up, slowly walking along the sofa.
“Says you. You’re not the one who had to live with being lied to and then being humiliated. But I didn’t plan on killing him. I swear. But once I did, I didn’t regret it.” Kitty maneuvered like a cat, her pace slow and precise, with her sight set on her prey.
Those last words sent a chill down Hope’s spine. “Why did you kill him?”
“All the anger and rage I felt erupted! To get him to talk to me face-to-face, I had to lure him to the restaurant by posing as a potential investor. How pathetic. Then I stopped him in the parking lot and told him who I was. He got angry. He yelled at me. Like I’d done something wrong. He abandoned my mother and me and I’m the one who did something wrong?”
“What he did was wrong.”
Kitty lifted the knife. “He said he’d never acknowledge me as his child. What kind of man was he?” Kitty jabbed the knife forward. “A pathetic man who didn’t care about anyone but himself.”
“You’re right. He didn’t care about anyone. Why did you confess?”
Kitty rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “To protect my mother.”
“You believed you’d both be cleared once the murder weapon was found at Elaine’s house?”
“They’d think we were just looking out for each other. It’s what mothers and daughters do.”
“You could have planted the gun earlier.”
Kitty gave a careless shrug. “I needed to make sure I wouldn’t be a suspect first. The best way to do that was to confess and then admit I lied to protect my mom. I didn’t know my mom was going to confess too. She screwed up my plan.”
Kitty’s matter-of-fact tone chilled Hope. She was rethinking her doubtfulness of Kitty being a cold-blooded killer.
“Your plan?”
Hope stepped backward and stumbled on the end of the sofa, but she maintained her balance. She couldn’t let Kitty have any more of an advantage over her.
“Your mother loves you. That’s why she lied to the police and said she killed Lionel.”
Kitty huffed. “She’s used to lying. She lied my whole life. There were plenty of times she could have told me the truth about my father.”
“She was protecting you from Lionel. She knew how he’d treat you. She didn’t want you to go through that pain. It’s not too late. Nobody else needs to get hurt.” Hope kept easing back slowly, and she made a slight turn, bringing Kitty perpendicular to the opening into the hall that led to the foyer. “Put down the knife and we can talk. I’ll help you. I promise.”
“It’s too late. You’re the only person who knows I killed Lionel and the chef.”
“His name was Maurice. Why did you kill him?”
“He saw Lionel and me together in the parking lot. I heard you tell Drew on the phone.”
Hope’s mind raced as she tried to remember, and she did. If her body hadn’t been so rigid, her knees would have buckled and she’d collapse.
I caused Maurice’s death.
In the test kitchen, she’d stepped out to the hallway to talk to Drew. She told him what Maurice had said about the night of Lionel’s murder. She’d lost the signal and couldn’t tell him Maurice never saw the person with Lionel. Kitty killed him for nothing. A wave of nausea rolled through her like a tsunami.
She met Kitty’s hard stare, and her fear disappeared. Anger throbbed through her and her fingers balled into fists, her fingernails cutting into her flesh. “You won’t get away with this. You’ll go to prison for murder.”
“Ha! You really think I don’t have a plan? I wasn’t sure if you’d find out. But you know now. It’ll look like you died in a home invasion. A shame. My statement to the police will go something like this—I came here to apologize for my rudeness the other day and I found your body. Stabbed to death. The house a mess.” Her eyes deadened as she lifted her arm to plunge the knife into Hope. She stepped forward and then her eyes bulged. She yelped before her body crumpled to the floor and pieces of blue-and-white porcelain rained down over her body.
“Nobody’s gonna hurt my sister!” Claire lowered her arms and locked gazes with her sister, then tore across the room to the table and grabbed Hope’s phone. She called for help.
Hope lunged for the knife. It’d been knocked out of Kitty’s grip when she fell to the floor. With a shaky hand, Hope picked up the knife. Leery of approaching the woman, even though she appeared unconscious, Hope kept her distance. She doubted the vase hitting Kitty over the head had knocked her out, but hitting her head on the pumpkin-pine floor could have.
Claire hurried to her sister’s side. With rasping breaths and trembling hands, she tugged her sister close to her. “The police are on their way.”
“She killed Lionel and Maurice.” Hope wrapped an arm around her sister’s waist. “Did you hear everything?”
“No. I only came down a minute ago, and that’s when I saw what was going on. How did she get in?”
“I let her in. I thought she came here to apologize, but then I realized she was the killer, and, well . . . this happened.” Hope pointed to Kitty with the knife.
“Are you okay?”
Hope nodded. Her grip on the knife was unsteady, but she was okay, thanks to her sister acting quickly and stealthily.
Broken shards of porcelain were scattered around Kitty. A twinge of sadness pricked at Hope. The vase had been the first antique she’d ever purchased. She’d saved for months to afford it. Now, it was broken into bits and pieces, but it had saved her life.
“Sorry about the vase.” Claire seemed to read Hope’s mind.
Hope shrugged. “Maybe I can make a mosaic.”
Claire smiled. “Of course you can.”
Blaring sirens approached the house. Once again, Hope’s home was a crime scene. She must’ve set a record for the number of times the police had to respond to her house for help.
Claire pulled away from Hope. “We really should check to see if she’s alive.”
“Let the police do it.” Hope stepped back to the island and set the knife on the countertop, all the while keeping an eye on Kitty. She wasn’t experiencing an overwhelming desire to help the confessed murderer. A loud bang on the front door announced the arrival of help. Claire motioned she’d let the police in and carefully made her way around Kitty’s unconscious body. She returned a moment later with a uniformed police officer, who rushed to Kitty. He confirmed she was alive and called for a
n ambulance.
Claire moved back to her sister and wrapped her arm around Hope’s waist. “I can’t believe she killed two people.”
Hope shrugged. “I guess we never really know someone.”
Another uniformed officer entered the kitchen and escorted them to the living room. He suggested they sit.
Hope first removed the drop cloth from the sofa and quickly bundled it up and discarded it to the side. She sat on the middle cushion and Claire sat next to her. She stared out the window. When would the full impact of the incident hit her? An hour from now? Next week? Would it come unexpectedly? When would it hit Claire? She grasped her sister’s hand and squeezed. She hated the fact that her sister had been in danger and ultimately put into the position of having to defend them.
The officer took their initial statements before exiting the room when the EMTs hurried through the front door to tend to Kitty. He reappeared to check on Hope and Claire, and both assured him they didn’t need medical attention. He looked concerned but didn’t push the matter and left when his radio squawked.
“I need to call Andy so he hears about this from me.” Claire patted Hope’s hand before she stood and exited the room to get her phone.
Hope leaned back. Now alone, her gaze fixated on the fireplace and her recent paint job. Admittedly, it wasn’t the right moment for her to analyze her handiwork, but it kept her from dissolving into a puddle of tears.
She focused on the color. The cool gray tone was soothing. She looked to her trembling hands. She pressed her palms on her lap to steady them.
Time to get a grip.
She leveled her gaze back to the fireplace wall. Bare. She still hadn’t decided what to hang over the mantel. A wreath? A painting? Ethan had suggested a flat-screen TV. She’d vetoed that in a heartbeat.
A heartbeat.
Her heartbeat was thrashing in her ears. The adrenaline rush from being threatened at knifepoint was still pumping through her.
“Hope.”
Her head snapped around at the sound of her name. Ethan rushed into the room and she jumped up from the sofa. She went to run, but he was too fast. He’d pulled her into a tight hug. A whoosh of relief exhaled from his body. She’d worried him again. Once more, he’d gotten word she’d come this close to being his next murder victim. This close.
“Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”
Hope shook her head as she buried her face into Ethan’s chest and inhaled his woodsy cologne. No, she wasn’t okay. She’d been terrorized in her home, fearful her sister would be killed, and responsible for a friend’s death.
“Kitty killed them both. Lionel and Maurice! She pulled a knife on me.” She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to stop the replay of the confrontation, to end the nonstop loop in her mind.
“Thank God you’re safe.” His voice was thick with concern and his hold on her tightened. But she wanted it tighter. She needed it tighter to feel safe.
“Claire came up behind Kitty and hit her with a vase. She smashed it over Kitty’s head.” Tears streamed down Hope’s face. The coldness in Kitty’s eyes left no doubt that if Claire hadn’t done what she did, she would’ve had to fight for her life. Kitty had wanted her dead.
She sucked in a sharp breath and her body quaked, prompting Ethan’s hold to tighten. Thank goodness. She lifted her head and looked at him. “I am so glad you’re here,” she whispered before he dipped his head down for a kiss. Her lips parted and welcomed him. Her eyes shuttered closed as their kiss deepened, wiping away all the ugliness she’d faced. Her body calmed. Finally, she felt safe.
Someone had entered the room and cleared his throat. Ethan looked over his shoulder. “Sorry,” he said, looking back at Hope.
“Go on. I understand.” Hope let Ethan go and he walked out of the room with his officer.
He promised to come right back. She dropped onto the sofa and wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the coldness that filled the void left behind without Ethan’s embrace.
She leaned back and stared at the fireplace again. Maybe she could work with a flat-screen TV.
“Hope, I have to ask you a few questions.”
She turned her head toward the sound of Detective Reid’s voice. Of course he had a few questions for her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“What do you think?” Claire pushed open the door of the cottage on Shady Oak Lane and stepped over the threshold with her sister following behind.
A week had passed since Kitty pulled a knife on Hope and Claire came to the rescue with her protectiveness in full force with Hope’s precious vase. Kitty had been arrested and charged with two murders and one attempted murder—Hope. Chills still skittered up her spine when she thought back to that night. Getting out, being among people and seeing her sister’s newest handiwork helped ease the lingering anxiety over the incident.
Once inside, Hope was certain she’d been there before. Then she remembered. She’d delivered Girl Scout cookies with her mom. The homeowner had been a kind, older woman who owned a cat similar to Princess.
“It’s beautiful,” Hope said.
Claire had freshened up the space with white slipcovers on the upholstered furniture and added throw pillows. A short stack of hardcover books and an assortment of candles were gathered on a tray that sat on the dark-wood coffee table. The mantel above the stone fireplace had been given a breath of life by a cluster of topiaries in small pots and a familiar landscape painting hanging on the wall.
Hope had an urge to light a candle, grab a book, and sink down onto the sofa. Too bad it was another hot humid day, or else she’d love nothing more than to light a fire. She stepped farther into the living room toward the mantel.
“Isn’t that the painting from Dad’s study?” She pointed.
Claire nodded. “It looks perfect there, doesn’t it?”
“I didn’t know you had it. Where has it been?” Hope inched closer to the painting. Their dad wasn’t an art collector, but he’d fallen in love with a local artist’s work, and one Christmas, their mom had purchased the painting for him.
“In storage.”
“Storage?” Hope spun around and propped a hand on her hip. “What storage? You’ve been holding out.”
Claire gave a little lift of her shoulder and grinned. “I have a unit where I keep things. I guess I always knew I was going to be a home stager.”
“I’m very proud of you. This place looks amazing, and Kent will sell it in no time, thanks to your work.”
“Want to see the kitchen? I spruced up in there too.” Claire led Hope through to the tiny kitchen and then continued through the rest of the house. Back outside, Claire locked up, and they headed for their cars.
“How did Alfred take the news you weren’t going back to the agency?”
“Okay. He’s excited for me, but he hates that I left the agency. I’m still keeping my license.”
“Smart. Speaking of real estate, do you know what’s happening with the Parson horse farm?”
“The condo deal? Not happening, at least not yet. Looks like old Hildy rules that roost.” Claire laughed.
“Looks like it. What are you doing for the rest of the day?” Hope dug in her purse for her key fob.
“I have to order inventory for the shop and then get it ready for its opening. I’ll be taking a day trip down to the city for merchandise. You have to come with me. Oh, and before I forget, what are you doing tomorrow?”
Hope thought for a moment. “I have a recipe to make and photograph. Why?”
“I could use help in the shop. You are, after all, the expert on all things clean. Come by with your rubber gloves and dust wipes.”
“When you put it like that, how can I refuse? Call me later and we can set up a time.” Hope opened the door to her vehicle.
“How’s Iva working out?”
“Good so far. She cleaned out that overgrown garden by the barn. I think I’ll plant a vegetable garden there next year.”
“Have
you had more time to work?”
“I’ve been more productive and I feel less stressed.”
“Who would have thought Iva Johnson would mean less stress for anybody?” Claire slipped behind the wheel of her car. “See you at the shop tomorrow.” She flashed a thankful smile and drove away.
Hope waved and then headed for her vehicle. She had a stop to make before heading home to film a video for her website and get ready for date night with Ethan.
* * *
“You do spoil us, dear.” Jane wasted no time in taking possession of the pastry box from Hope and opening the lid. From her smile, Hope could tell her friend was pleased with the contents. Frosted brownies with sprinkles. Who wouldn’t be happy with them?
Sally ambled over to the reception desk and peered over her sister-in-law’s shoulder. “They look sinfully delicious.”
“They are, trust me. I had to get them out of the house.” Hope’s recipe development process included making a recipe three times before she posted it on her blog. The upside was, by the third time, she was confident the recipe would work. The downside was, she had dozens of brownies in her house. While she could easily eat them all, she had to be a responsible adult and share, because there wasn’t enough running she could do to work off the calories.
“Good morning, Hope.”
Hope looked over at the staircase. “Rona, I thought you’d be gone by now.”
Rona came off the last step and walked toward Hope and the Merrifields. She wore linen trousers and an eyelet top. Her hair was spiky again, and her makeup was bright.
“I’m leaving this afternoon. I had things to wrap up. Have you heard? I was interviewed by a news program, and a magazine too. I was wondering if you could give me some advice on how I can parlay my fifteen minutes of fame into something bigger, like you have.”
Hope wasn’t offended by the fifteen-minutes-of-fame comment. Many people considered her stint on The Sweet Taste of Success as nothing more than an attempt to garner attention. They didn’t realize how grueling it had been to be on a constant state of alert against backstabbing, racing to finish near-impossible challenges, and to be separated from your family. She wouldn’t lie and say appearing on the show hadn’t impacted her new career as a full-time blogger. She definitely had cashed in on her fifteen minutes of fame. And, frankly, she wasn’t ashamed of it.
Three Widows and a Corpse Page 26