Cast Iron Alibi

by Victoria Hamilton

  She stared at Gabriela, waiting. When the woman didn’t respond she goaded her. “You did it, didn’t you?” she said, her nerves shivering through her body, fear a slow trickle that would become a flood any minute. Her voice had a hysterical edge to it that sounded foreign. “You blew out all the pilot lights and left your husband in the house, hoping he’d die. Or that the house would blow up and . . . and he’d die. You didn’t care about him, you didn’t care about Fenix, you didn’t care about how it might kill an innocent bystander, you just cared about you.”

  “Do you hear yourself right now? You’re talking crazy, Jaymie,” Gabriela said, her eyes narrow.

  Hoppy, who had been taking advantage of his unusual middle-of-the-night freedom to explore the bushes, yipped softly. “Hush, Hoppy,” Jaymie said, putting out one hand. “I’m right, aren’t I, Gabriela? And then, here . . .” She stopped dead, her eyes widening. She looked down beside the firepit and prodded the burnt object, what she now recognized as a cheap red wig. “You’re the hot redhead who came here to meet up with Mario several times. You said you had to travel sometimes for work, even overnight. You have to check in with different stores around Ohio and Michigan. This is the wig you wore to meet up with Mario, or HawtMarineBoy, as he was known to you.”

  Gabriela’s eyes flickered, widening, then narrowing. She glared at Jaymie. It looked like she was trying to figure something out.

  Jaymie had never before been in this exact position. Had one of her friends committed murder? Why? It didn’t make a bit of sense.

  The wig. The slipping out at night. “You said you sat in the dark by the Ice House, but if you’d done that, if you were actually on the Ice House patio in the middle of the night, you’d know, it is ablaze with lights to discourage vandalism. There is no dark spot on that patio or anywhere around the Ice House.” And the phone. The phone!

  Horror was growing as she moved from uncertainty to growing conviction. “You knew Brandi was seeing Mario too!” Jaymie said, her voice choked with fear and sorrow. “You knew it. You stole Mario’s phone and planted it behind Tiffany’s stuff, to be found later. You were hoping to implicate Brandi with Mario’s phone. But then when Tiffany showed up . . . wow.” Her mind gathered all the little details together. “You picked up his phone the first night we were at the Ice House, didn’t you? Oh!” A stray thought solidified her suspicion. “You went back in to retrieve your own cell phone, you said, but I remember you putting it in your purse before we left the table! You went back in and somehow slipped past them and stole Mario’s phone.”

  “Now you’re being idiotic,” Gabriela said angrily.

  “I know I’m right.”

  “You should write books, like Melody,” Gabriela said dismissively. “If anyone had a plan, it must have been Tiffany and Logan, you know? First they say I tried to kill Logan, then they came here and killed Mario while blaming me! It’s a conspiracy.” She was going for an expression of wounded sorrow, but she looked evasive. And growing in her behavior was an agitation, an uneasiness that sharpened. “It’s outrageous that my own friend wouldn’t get that! You’re all about being supportive to women until you get to me, is that it? I don’t get the benefit of the doubt? I don’t get any sympathy?”

  Jaymie fidgeted with the stick in her hand, wondering what to do next. This was her old friend. What she was thinking, conjecturing, was outrageous, but . . . it pieced together tidily. Gabriela must have shifted the plan a couple of times. Facts, events, the timeline: it all lined up to confirm what she already knew. Gabriela thought Logan would die of gas inhalation, or at least she was hoping it. Jaymie’s eyes watered up. Gabriela would have murdered her baby’s father. It was a shocking blow.

  Jaymie watched her friend, who appeared elaborately unconcerned. And yet . . . seeing her darting gaze, her curled fingers, her jerky movement . . . knowing she was trying to figure out what to do next, what move would get her out of a fix, Jaymie’s heart pounded, a sickening thud in her chest. Now she understood. That’s what Gabriela’s fretfulness the first night was about. At first she was pretending to expect a text or call from Logan that didn’t come . . . that she knew would not come, if her plan worked. She must have been on edge, waiting, expecting to get a “devastating” call from home that there had been a tragic accident and that Logan was dead. That was the real reason behind her growing agitation: the call that never came that night, and didn’t come the next day either, as she got more and more worried.

  But when all her plans went south, why kill Mario? It made no sense.

  Hoppy yipped again. “Not now, Hoppy,” Jaymie said, but caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Val was at the top of the rise above them, as was Melody, whose eyes glittered with tears. Gabriela had said enough that it was plain she had some involvement. But how much? Jaymie swiveled her gaze back to Gabriela, who was fortunately still facing her, her back turned to their friends on the rise. There was comfort in her friends—her true friends—being so close. It gave her courage and confidence. Jaymie used two fingers in a subtle movement to try to stay her friends until she heard what Gabriela had to say. “Tell me the truth,” Jaymie said loudly. “You’ve been seeing Mario for some time.”

  Gabriela was silent.

  “I’m confused, Gabriela,” Jaymie said, shooting for a casual tone that didn’t sound casual even to herself, especially as loud as she was now talking, her words echoing back to her. “Let’s go back to the book you’re writing. What is it about?”

  “You’ll see,” Gabriela said.

  “The book is about murder, Gabriela, isn’t it? About killing someone?”

  Gabriela’s eyes widened again. “Why would you think that?”

  Jaymie’s mouth dried out. She licked her lips. She needed Gabriela to tell the truth, now, while Mel and Val were there to hear it. “I’ve figured a few things out,” she said. “But I don’t know some other things. Like . . . did you always intend to kill Mario, or was it a spur-of-the-moment idea? A plan you came up with on the fly?” The idea solidified into knowledge. “That’s it, isn’t it? Logan didn’t die like he was supposed to. You wanted out of your marriage, but you wanted Fenix to stay with you, and you were afraid Logan would get custody, is that it? But then, because of your stupidity about household appliances,” she goaded, “Logan didn’t die. He and Tiffany showed up instead.

  “I remember that night; you went sheet-white with shock when you saw her. You had been play-acting for two days, worried about Logan. You must have been sweating when no one from home called to tell you the awful news that your dear hubby had died in a gas leak, or house explosion, or whatever. And then Tiffany showed up, and being the cruel witch that she is, instead of accusing you, she decided to torment you. And . . . blackmail you.” She remembered the words Mrs. Stubbs had overheard, Tiffany saying to Gabriela to give up and let go . . . “I suppose her motive was to get you to divorce Logan and give him custody of Fenix, but I’m not sure if Logan was totally on board.”

  Gabriela shook her head. Her expression was changing from fear to loathing. Jaymie could see Mel’s shocked face in a slice of light from the cottage kitchen window, but she shook her head to keep the two from moving.

  “So, was your second plan to kill Mario and put the blame on Logan and Tiffany?” She couldn’t believe the things she was saying about her friend. Surely Gabriela would have some explanation, some alternate theory that was true.

  But vague hope was destined to die.

  “You should keep your mouth shut, Jaymie,” Gabriela said, a huffy tone of self-righteousness creeping into her voice. “It’s much simpler than that.” She paused, her eyes flicking back and forth as she thought. “My husband and his sister found out about me fooling around on him and plotted to kill Mario and make me look guilty,” she said finally, with an earnest manner. “It’s weird that the police haven’t figured this out, right? I thought they would have by now.”

  “Come on, Gabriela, stop lying. Aren’t you tired? I know I am. Wh
at you’re burning is no toy of Fenix’s,” she said, prodding the smoldering blackened heap. “It’s a wig, a cheap polyester red wig.” A memory flickered into a visual. “Cheap red polyester . . . like the long red threads I pulled off your sweater and threw in the fire the first night. You must have worn that wig often, when you met up with Mario. You don’t need it now. He’s dead.” Her last word caught on a sob. “Why? Why kill him, Gabriela? I don’t understand. He was going to leave his pregnant girlfriend for you!”

  She watched her friend, wishing she’d tell the truth, and yet wishing it wasn’t the truth. But Gabriela was now stubbornly silent. “I found the phone, you know that. It was on the floor behind Tiffany’s duffel of hair appliances. You could have put it there at any point; you were in the cottage many times alone. We were supposed to find it after she was gone, right? Was that the plan? I was supposed to find it and turn it over to the cops and they were supposed to suspect Tiffany and Logan?”

  Gabriela’s face had darkened. “You had to figure it out, didn’t you? You couldn’t leave it alone.”

  “You do know that the police will be able to trace your phone calls and texts to Mario, right?”

  “I used a fake name.”

  “That doesn’t matter; that’s not what they’ll trace. They’ll trace your actual phone!”

  “But I used a burner!” she blurted out. Then her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

  So that was how she planned to evade the police finding out she was one of Mario’s conquests. “But you sent him a picture of your tattoo,” Jaymie said wearily. “The tattoo on your breast of a phoenix.”

  She gasped. “He said he erased it! He promised—” She clapped a hand to her chest.

  “What did you expect?” Jaymie said, anger and hurt and betrayal sending scalding pain shooting through her. There was no going back from this knowledge, no faint hope that she was wrong. “You believed a promise from a guy like that, an online lothario who kept prize tokens of his conquests? Of course he’d keep that picture!”

  Gabriela shook her head, the first genuine fear Jaymie had seen in her eyes.

  “Why did you come here, of all places, knowing I’ve figured these things out before?”

  “I didn’t think you’d figure this out,” she said, her voice wobbling and teary. “I was going to have the last laugh.” Gabriela paced, slashing the grass with the piece of wood as Hoppy backed away, yipping unhappily. “Or at least . . . damn you! Once I realized that Logan had lived, I went to plan B. You were supposed to figure out that I had tried to kill Logan and failed, and that he and his sister came here to kill Mario and incriminate me!”

  She grimaced and stopped slashing, the piece of wood dropping at her feet. “Mario wasn’t supposed to die. But he kept bugging me!” She smiled, an eerie mocking smile. “He said I was the love of his life. I wish I could have told Logan that. I would have liked to see his face . . . hah!” Her smile died. “Mario wanted me to come live in his craphole of a cottage with him.” She threw up her hands. “He was being a freaking nuisance. The guy was dumb as a stump. He actually thought if I divorced Logan and moved here with him, my illicit lover, a thieving handyman, I’d get custody of Fenix! I was never going to move here with him. I wanted some fun. This vacation was supposed to be goodbye to both my problems, Logan and Mario. Once Logan was dead I could move on with my life, take Fenix and move to Ann Arbor. I have a job offer; my little girl and I could have a new life away from Logan’s interfering horrible family. But Logan didn’t die when he was supposed to, so I killed Mario instead. Logan is going to take the blame.”

  “But . . . how . . . how did you kill Mario? I don’t understand?”

  “Ohmigawd, it was easy!” she said with disdain. “He was so trusting, the idiot. He was an idiot, you know,” she said with earnest emphasis, conversational and relaxed now that she had admitted the worst. “He was one of those dudes who think they’re smarter than everyone else. He deserved whatever he got. He was fooling around with other women while telling me he loved me so freaking much!” She shook her head. “I hate to say it, but Brandi’s right. Men are pond scum. We were supposed to meet up. If Logan was dead it all would have gone as expected. I would have broke it off that night.”

  “I don’t buy that.”

  “Think what you will, it’s true. I would have dumped him. He was tiresome. And that night he was worse than before. I went to see him and told him I couldn’t stick around because my husband had showed up. I thought he’d back off but nooo,” she said. “Instead he said he was going to go to the inn and confront my husband, tell him I was leaving Logan to move in with him.”

  “But Gabriela, you took the pie iron with you.” Gabriela, as usual, was all over the place, admitting guilt but trying to backtrack from it at the same time.

  Blinking, Gabriela stared. “Yeah. Okay. So maybe I did plan it out beforehand. I told you . . . plan B kicked in when Tiffany showed up.”

  Jaymie stared at her. “How could you kill a man? Bash him over the head and leave him for dead.” Her eyes widened. “And you set fire to the cottage knowing there was a pregnant girl inside!”

  Gabriela’s eyes glittered. There were tears . . . actual tears that welled and spilled over. “You have to believe me, Jaymie,” she said, hands out, palms up, a pleading gesture. “I didn’t know she was there. When we set up the meeting he said he was going to send her to stay with her mom for the night! I knew that girl would be better off without Mario in her life. All he’d do her whole life would be to make her feel bad about herself. I know how guys like that operate. He’d cheat on her, bring home diseases, and finally dump her. Honest, if I had known she was there—”

  “But you set it on fire. Why? If you were going to kill him, why set the cottage on fire too?”

  She shrugged. “I knew Logan was borrowing Terry’s boat to go fishing that night, so—”

  “Wait . . . how did you know that? No one else knew Terry was here. How did you know?”

  Her gaze was secretive, and sly. “I saw his boat in the marina. I’d recognize that thing from a mile away, the number of times I had to go out with Terry, Brandi, and Logan.” She grimaced. “When I found out Tiffany and Logan were here I texted Logan, asking him what was going on. He is such a coward. He never once said anything about the gas in the house then. He was real casual at first. He told me he was going night fishing, borrowing Terry’s boat.” She smiled and tapped her head. “I told you, I’m way smarter than anyone realizes. I adjusted my plan accordingly. I figured . . . Mario would die, the cottage would go up in blazes, and I could play the wounded wife for a few days, then reluctantly admit that Mario was my lover and horrors . . . Logan found out! What had he done?” she cried, hamming it up. “Logan, you despicable monster, killing that man!”

  Jaymie was thunderstruck, but the million times Gabriela had been sly and sneaky came back to her. “Borrowing” clothes and getting them ripped or stained and returning them to someone’s closet without acknowledging it until caught. “Borrowing” money from the petty cash they were all supposed to contribute to. Jaymie remembered blaming Brandi for that. Brandi had, at first, said Gabriela did it, but when no one believed her she took the blame and apologized. Gabriela’s cunning in this instance should not come as a surprise. What had started as a simple plan at first—kill Logan from a distance and get Fenix and her freedom all at the same time—had become complex when Logan lived and followed Gabriela to Queensville. But she had rolled with it, adapting. It just may have worked.

  “You know . . . there’s always an extra can of gas in Terry’s boat,” Gabriela said. “Logan will be blamed as long as you keep your mouth shut, Jaymie.”

  Thunderstruck, Jaymie said, “Or Terry will be blamed; the police will find out Brandi’s been with Mario and blame her jealous ex. We’ll all attest to his confrontation in Grand Bend. You covered all bases, didn’t you?”

  “It pays to be prepared.”

  “And all along
it was you. Where did you get the fuel?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jaymie. People are always thinking I’m dumb, or that I lack common sense. Don’t be a putz. Mario had a boat dock. He had a boat. He had to have fuel right there in the shed.” She looked rather pleased with herself. “I can’t believe you didn’t figure that part out. It’s so easy!”

  It all made a terrible and warped sense. And now what? Jaymie didn’t have any more questions, though she was sure she would later. The future was not bright for her friend. Whether she paid the full price for her grave crime or got a lesser sentence on diminished responsibility, her life as she knew it was over. And yet . . . she seemed to assume Jaymie would stay quiet for her. “Gabriela, you have to know we can’t walk away from this,” Jaymie said gently.

  Tears gleamed in her eyes. “Don’t take me away from my baby girl,” she whimpered. “I had no choice, you have to see that. Logan was going to take Fenix away from me!”

  “Because you tried to kill him!” All her life Gabriela had been getting people to let her off the hook, pleading her sad life, her lack of knowledge, or whatever excuse she could concoct. But this was the end. “We’re going to have to talk to Vestry. Gabriela, you know this is it; you have to turn yourself in.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “I said no.” She was circling the fire. “I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”

  “I’m not giving you a choice, I’m . . . oof!”