by A. C. Mason
“I have no doubts about the capabilities of any gun.”
“You shouldn’t,” she said, narrowing her feline green eyes. “Why couldn’t you leave everything alone? I can’t understand why you believe your brother is innocent. The proof is as plain as day.”
“Not to me it isn’t,” I said, trying to sound calm while my heart pounded against my chest like a jackhammer. “Why did you kill Anne?” My lips trembled, but I forced the words out.
She ignored my question and continued rambling. “Steven treated my sister Charlie like scum. He got her pregnant and then he killed her to cover up the affair.”
Her accusation hit me like a bolt of lightning. “What do you mean? Didn’t she commit suicide?”
“The official cause of death was suicide, but the detective who originally investigated suggested her death could be a murder made to look like a suicide. He kept investigating even after the Coroner’s report came out, but eventually the case went cold and he had to give it up for more current cases.”
I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. Charlotte McBride, pregnant and possibly murdered?
The ramifications of this new situation twisted my insides. Had Steven lied to me about his part in the affair? I recalled his statement about not getting her pregnant. Did Steven know she was pregnant with his child? And was the baby even his? Did he kill her?
No, I didn’t believe he could be so callous. A grain of anger sprouted inside me and boosted my courage. “And you know for a fact my brother murdered her and the baby was his?”
She hesitated for a split second. Her pause struck a spark of hope in Steven’s truthfulness.
“I didn’t need anybody to give me evidence. The whole affair was plain to see.” She glared at me for even suggesting her observations were faulty. “To answer your question about why I killed Anne, I wanted him to feel what it was like to lose someone close to him, and to make him suffer for his crime against Charlie.”
“So you murdered an innocent woman just to punish the man you believe impregnated your sister.”
“The baby couldn’t belong to any other man,” she insisted. “She would have confided in me.”
“Your sister wasn’t sleeping with anyone else…like Trey?
In one quick move, Lisa leaned close to me. Cocking the hammer, she placed the tip of the barrel against my cheek. “Not hardly. Steven is going to pay and you aren’t going to stop this from happening.”
The cold steel against my skin sent an icy chill racing through me. This might be my last day on earth.
Twenty-five
“Relax. I’m not going to kill you yet. I’m sure you want to know all the details.” Lisa smiled without humor and withdrew the gun a short distance from my face.
Oh great, she’s going to torture me first.
“After all, it doesn’t matter what you know now. You won’t be around long enough to give the information to your husband and his police buddies.”
I let out the breath I was holding. “Yes, the least you can do is to tell me your version of events.” My voice sounded irrationally calm to me, an amazing feat, especially for a person staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. “How did you manage to leave your party without being missed?”
“You know how it is at parties. After everyone has a few drinks, nobody cares. I simply left, did what was necessary, and returned to my house.”
“Obviously you knew about the lax security at Steven’s home.”
“Anne mentioned the lack thereof once or twice.”
“You weren’t very careful if Trey was able to observe you entering and leaving.”
“I guess not, but if anyone had to see me, I’m glad the person was someone with basically the same agenda. Good thing he wasn’t smart enough to try blackmailing me. From the conversation you overheard, I suspect Trey had a different objective in mind. Steven was his target. Typical male rationale, don’t you think?”
I nodded my head in agreement. “What part did Greg play in your scheme?”
Lisa sighed. “Killing him was a regretful necessity. He didn’t have any part in Anne’s murder nor did he know I killed her.”
“But he accompanied your alter-ego, the blond,, to the house. What were you looking for?”
“The day before the murder, I sent Anne a letter detailing Steven’s marital infidelities. It was never mentioned in any of the articles or on television. I was afraid the letter might still be in the house so I made up a story and talked him into going there with me in disguise. His occupation as a real estate agent made the perfect cover.”
“You know the police don’t always release every little detail to the public. Besides that, forensics has improved a great deal in ten years. The letter probably has your DNA and fingerprints all over it.”
A tiny glimmer of alarm flickered in her eyes, but immediately disappeared. “They have to match DNA and fingerprints with mine first though. Who’s going to tell them I sent the letter?”
“I don’t understand why you shot Greg if he didn’t know you murdered Anne.”
“Because the possibility existed for him to give away some little piece of information that would give you a clue. He’s always been in love with you. I couldn’t take the chance.”
“And his murder provided you with another opportunity to plant evidence to frame Steven.” With the knowledge concerning the true extent of Greg’s involvement out in the open, my guilt over his murder surfaced once again and sat like a rock on my chest.
“Yes it did. Anything else you want to know? ”
“Before I die, you mean?”
“If you want more answers, hurry and ask me. I’m getting tired of this game of twenty questions.”
“How did you get Steven’s gun?”
“I’m a pretty accomplished lock picker, but you know what kind of security system they had on the house. I located the key under the flower pot, went inside, and stole his gun. Weeks later I used it to kill Anne. I brought it out of hiding to shoot Greg and left it at his murder scene to keep the investigation focused on Steven.”
“You know if you shoot me here, the gunfire will bring the police. You won’t get away.”
“I don’t plan to kill you here. Breaking into your home to search for the charm, knowing an alarm existed was living dangerously, but this time I intend to take it easy and not screw up.” She inched the revolver close to my face once more. “Oh, I know what you would be interested in knowing. Was the windmill charm mine?” She nodded her head as if agreeing with her own brilliant question. “Yes it was mine, but I didn’t buy it at the same time the others did. The story about my charm is too long and doesn’t have anything to do with the subject at hand.”
“So you wore the bracelet as part of your disguise and lost it in the house.”
“I started to place my purse on a table in the foyer and it didn’t quite make it onto the table. When I grabbed for the purse to keep it from hitting the floor, my bracelet got caught on something. I looked for the charm, but couldn’t find it. We decided to leave before the lawn care people got wise and called the police.”
The psychic’s words came back to me. The house doesn’t belong to them so they’re nervous. “So you came back later after the funeral and found me searching for the other piece.”
Lisa nodded and didn’t comment on the rest of the story. Admitting she’d struck me and knocked me out would’ve been nice, but her statement wasn’t necessary. I knew what she’d done. Too bad I couldn’t record this conversation. If I managed to survive this ordeal I could report her admissions to the police all day long and she would deny every one of them. Her word against mine. But I kept on asking the questions.
“Did you make all those phone calls to me?”
“You really suspected a man, didn’t you?”
“Until I realized a woman caller could use a voice-altering device to sound like one.”
She smiled and nodded with approval.
“Did the polic
e lab run a DNA test on Charlotte’s baby to determine the identity of the father?”
Lisa tilted her head to one side. “Not that I know of. The police and the district attorney bowed to my family’s wishes to keep the whole affair quiet. Charlotte’s divorce, suicide, out of wedlock pregnancy, plus her promiscuous lifestyle would have been a humiliating experience for Mom and Dad. They hardly acknowledged her existence, much less such scandalous events. There’s no chance for DNA testing now because Charlotte and her baby were cremated.”
I hoped someone in the Coroner’s Office had the forethought to save a blood sample. In which case, the possibility for more problems existed. What if the baby turned out to be Steven’s? I didn’t want to think about the likelihood.
“Okay,” she said, tapping the fingers of her left hand on the arm of the chair. “One more question and then we leave for a little trip across the lake.”
Across the lake referred to Lake Ponchartrain and could mean any number of places. I closed my eyes briefly and tried to steady my nerves. “Was there really a break-in at your gallery and the party list stolen?”
Lisa looked amused. “I wondered when you would get around to asking about the stolen list. The answer is no. Everything was staged right down to smashing my artwork.” She rose from the chair and nudged me with the gun. “Time to go.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“First hand over your cell phone,” she ordered extending her hand palm up.
No cell phone meant no chance of calling for help. A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach brought a bitter taste to my mouth. I don’t have a chance. Then I remembered. With the new phone safely tucked in my pocket set on vibrate, I pulled the old one out of my purse and handed it to her.
“Let me have the whole purse,” she said giving me a suspicious look.
I hesitated on purpose, knowing she suspected a trick since I handed over my cell so readily. “Sure.”
She rummaged through the bag apparently searching for another phone. I prayed she wouldn’t decide to check my pockets.
Not locating any other phones, she smiled confidently. “How does a visit to the Honey Island Swamp sound?”
My insides froze.
Twenty-six
A thousand images flashed through my mind with alligators and water moccasins prevalent in my imagination. Honey Island Swamp was as the name implied—a swamp. The heavily wooded area laden with marshes and bayous lay along the Pearl River, a waterway on the Louisiana-Mississippi state line. People have been known to get lost in its unforgiving expanse and never be seen again. Depending on how far into the woods I ended up, who knew whether I would be able to use my cell. No reception was a distinct possibility.
Lisa nudged me with the gun. “Let’s go.”
Unless I could come up with a way to contact 911 or Jim soon I’d be marched out into the swamp and shot down like an animal. But what could I do? My panicked state of mind blocked any kind of rational plan.
Heavy footfalls sounded on the outside stairs. Lisa and I both made a quick glance toward the door.
“Did you call the police?” she demanded, pressing the gun harder into my face.
I shook my head. “When did I have the opportunity?” Even if they planned to storm the place they would’ve been a lot quieter coming up the stairs.
“Get up,” she said in a low voice, withdrawing the revolver slightly. “Come with me to the door.”
I did as ordered and rose from the chair. She shoved me in front of her and stuck the gun in the small of my back.
“You look out the peephole and tell me what you see.” She pressed the revolver harder against me. “And don’t lie to me.”
The dusky light outside made it difficult to see especially through the tiny hole. A male figure moved back and forth in and out of my sight. Abruptly the visitor stopped pacing and presented me a full view of his face. Oh my God. “It’s Trey.” My voice cracked.
“What’s he doing? “Lisa whispered.
“He’s standing there trying to decide whether to knock, I guess.” My breathing sped up, coming in short bursts in concert with my thumping heart. Even if I managed to get the upper hand with her, I’d never be able to escape from Trey. He’d make sure no one in law enforcement knew the identity of the real killer.
Lisa pushed me aside. “Here, let me see.” She peered through the peephole.
My cell vibrated in my pocket. I started to reach in and grab it, but Lisa turned back. Blood pulsed in my temples and roared in my ears. I prayed she hadn’t seen my attempt to get to my phone.
“Do you have any idea why he would be here?”
She didn’t seem to notice anything. Safe, for the moment anyway.
“He probably wanted to make sure I didn’t overpower you and turn you over to the police.”
She smiled. “Maybe we should invite him in. He could come in handy in case you do try something foolish.”
I shrugged. “He does see your point of view.”
Lisa unlocked the door and peered outside, exhibiting her gun with a wave. “Come on in, Trey. I might need your help.”
I didn’t hear a response from him.
“Don’t be shy,” she said. “I hear you’re on my side.”
With Lisa occupied with the uninvited guest, I saw my chance. Slipping the phone from my pocket, I pressed the number set for Jim’s cell and shoved the device back into its hiding place. Whether or not anyone would be able to trace the call remained to be seen, but it was a chance I had to take.
Trey stole a nervous glance at the revolver in her hand and edged past her into the room. His face clouded with uneasiness and confusion as to exactly why Lisa pulled him into the mix. Maybe he thought the invitation was a trick. Apparently he hadn’t expected to be in the thick of things—only to make sure his secrets, what-ever they were, remained safe.
“Looks like you don’t need my help.” He gave Lisa a tentative smile.
“Actually, I don’t, but I invited you in to satisfy my curiosity.”
He frowned.
“Why did you keep quiet about my actions that night?” she asked.
“You made my job a lot easier. In fact I didn’t have to do anything.” His obnoxious smile set my teeth on edge.
“So you were there to teach Steven a lesson just like me, except your plan was a little different,” Lisa said, amused. “You were going after him.”
“Absolutely,” he said.
Lisa tilted her head slightly to one side and searched his face. “Where’d you get the scratch?”
He shrugged. “Just cut myself shaving.”
Very funny, Trey. I would’ve laughed if I hadn’t been so scared.
“I don’t blame you one bit for wanting to get back at Steven,” he said, changing the subject away from his injury. “Your sister was such a sweet girl.”
What a liar. “You’re trying to cover your butt now. The earlier description I heard from your mouth didn’t match that one,” I chimed in, his lies emboldening me. “How about slut? Trashy? You must have known her quite well, intimately even. Maybe you were the father of her baby.”
What was that old saying about looks killing? I’d be dead now, murdered by the furious glare he shot at me. Lisa wouldn’t even have to use her gun.
She turned her attention back to me. A spark of anger smoldered in her eyes. “Was that part of the conversation you overheard?”
“As a matter of fact, it was,” I said calmly while silently reminding myself not to get overconfident.
“Tell me more.”
Trey ran his hand through his dark hair. “Are you going to believe her? She’d say anything to protect her damn brother.”
“She would, but I want to hear what she has to say. Go ahead, Susan.”
“He referred to her as a slut and also trashy. There was also a round-about admission he’d slept with her.”
“Explain round-about,” Lisa said.
“Michael questioned Trey about his
reference to Charlotte in those uncomplimentary terms and indicated he hadn’t spoken about her like that, as he put it, back then.” I paused a moment, taking a glance at Lisa’s face. She didn’t look happy. I motioned with my hand toward Trey and quoted his response. “Sounds like a sexual experience to me.”
Lisa tightened her grip on the gun and aimed the weapon toward him. Her jaw muscles tightened. “You slept with her,” she accused through clenched teeth.
He raised both hands in front of him in an act of defense. “Susan’s lying. I never said any of those things. I didn’t sleep with her.”
“You’re the one who’s not telling the truth,” she said. “I can see it in your eyes.”
Trey’s body tightened like a big cat coiled and ready to spring on its prey. A second later he lunged toward Lisa.
Her hand jerked slightly as she fired the gun. The shot reverberated like an explosion of dynamite in the small room.
His face twisted with surprise and pain. Clutching his arm, he fell back against an antique cabinet with a clatter.
“Did you kill her?” she screamed.
He didn’t answer.
Paralyzed with fear, I could hardly breathe. Never in my life did I expect to be an eyewitness to a shooting or even have a gun pointed at me. How could Jim stand to witness the deadly aftermath of such horrible events?
Lisa fired once more, the bullet striking him in the shoulder. Flecks of blood splattered on his neck and shirt.
Breathless, he finally uttered a response. “I had to. She lied to me. Said she was on the pill.”
Lisa aimed the revolver directly at his genitals. Trey curled into a fetal position.
Adrenaline took over my body.
“Stop!” Without thinking I started toward her. She intended to kill him. I wanted him to pay for his crime by spending the rest of his life in prison.
Lisa turned the pistol toward me and fired. A deafening blast echoed in my ears. A lamp on the table next to me exploded into a million pieces. Fragments of glass went sailing in all directions. I felt a stinging sensation in my arm and on my face. Even in the haze of unreality surrounding me I realized the pain came from flying glass and not a bullet.