Looming Murder (22 page)

W
e
were at the nurses’ station and Susan had just signed the discharge form when Jenny came striding over, wearing a wide smile.

“There you are. What happened to you? I thought you were going to join us.”

“We figured you’d be perfectly fine on your own. Right, Susan? In fact, we thought you’d rather we left you two alone.”

Jenny blushed. “He’s nice.” She shrugged. “But it was only coffee, for goodness’ sake. I’ll probably never see him again.”

Susan opened her purse and dropped in her health care ID card. “Did he ask for your phone number?”

Jenny blushed even deeper. Before she could answer, I elbowed Susan. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me.” I closed my eyes, placing a hand to my forehead. “It’s coming to me. Yes. Yes, I can see it now.” I opened my eyes and pointed at her. “He’s going to call and ask you for a date.”

Jenny guffawed, slapping my finger. “You are so mean. You’re making fun of me.”

“You’re easy to make fun of,” I said, using the same words Matthew had once said to me.

•   •   •

As we headed toward the exit, I filled Jenny in on what Susan and I had concluded. “We still don’t have any physical proof, but we have enough circumstantial evidence to make a pretty good case.”

She pushed open the door, and we stepped outside. “So what are you going to do? Go to the police with what you know?”

We walked to the parking lot, trying to remember where Jenny had parked her car. “After the way Mike dismissed my tip before, I don’t really want to go to him. But I think if Dolores is aware of everything we know, she might decide to turn herself in.”

“There it is.” Jenny pointed to a row of cars. She pulled out her keys, clicked to unlock the doors and we slid in.

She paused, car key in hand. “So what’s the plan?”

I told her.

•   •   •

Ten minutes later we pulled up in front of a house that looked completely out of place on the quaint street. It was a large, modern stone structure that dwarfed all the neighboring houses. Except for that, it could have been on the cover of
Architectural Digest
.

“Her house suits her, don’t you think?” I said, staring at it as I gathered my courage.

In the driver’s seat, Jenny looked at Susan in the rearview mirror. “Are you up to this? We don’t have to do it now.”

“I’m fine. Just a bit cold, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you grab a sweater from the pile next to you?” To me, Jenny said, “I was going through some old uniforms of Mike’s to throw away, and then I thought of doing a new collection, pairing navy wool with sky-blue wool. What do you think?” She reached over the backseat and grabbed a pair of pants.

I fingered the fabric. “It’s nice, perfect for rugs and place mats. I bet it’ll look gorgeous.”

She looked pleased. “I’m glad you think so.” And then she got back to the subject at hand. “Ready?”

A moment later we were on the front stoop. “Her shrubs look as plastic as she does.” Susan smirked, looking at the immaculate landscaping. Bushes were clipped to perfection, flower borders in full bloom, automatic sprinklers spaced optimally. She pressed the buzzer and the sound of bells echoed through the house.

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Sounds like cathedral bells. A bit ostentatious, don’t you think?”

A moment later Dolores appeared, perfectly coiffed and made up. Her gaze landed on Susan. “You! You have no business here.”

Before she could slam the door in our face, Jenny pushed her way in. “We need to talk.”

To everybody’s surprise, Dolores moved aside with no argument. “We might as well get this over with.” She led the way through a foyer that would have been better suited to a hotel lobby than a private home. I looked around, taking in the polished marble floors, the white silk window treatments and the dozens of paintings covering the walls. This was not what anybody could call a cozy home.

She showed us into the kitchen. “I was just about to make some coffee.” She gestured toward the granite breakfast bar. “Anybody care to join me? Have a seat.”

Jenny, Susan and I looked at one another uncertainly. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but this was not it. We sat.

Dolores picked up a bag of Kona coffee and began measuring it into the coffeemaker. My eyes brightened. Kona was right up there with Jamaican Blue Mountain. “So what is it you want to talk to me about?” She did not look frightened as much as amused.

Susan raised her chin determinedly. “We know you killed Jeremy. And we have the evidence to prove it.”

Dolores paused, and for a second I thought I saw her waver. But she continued measuring and then she laughed. “You think I killed Jeremy? Now why would you think that?”

This time Jenny spoke. “You were having an affair with—”

“Jesus!” Dolores cut her off. “Have you got rocks in your heads? I never had an affair with that jerk. I despised him.”

“Then why were you spending so much time with him?”

She turned on the machine and spun around to face us. “Oh, what the hell, I might as well tell you. I’ve been spying on him—tracking the money he conned all those people out of.”

But Susan wasn’t about to be put off so easily. “You stole his laptop.”

“You’re right. I did.” She came closer, not looking guilty in the least. If anything, she seemed proud. “I needed to get into his computer. How else was I going to track the money?” She crossed her arms, giving us a smug smile. “And as of yesterday morning, everything he stole is back in the bank accounts of his victims. Go ahead and check for yourselves if you don’t believe me.”

I was too busy staring at her in shock to notice whether everyone else in the room had their mouths hanging open like mine was. At last I found my tongue. “Uh, I think she might be telling us the truth. Marnie told Jenny that the entire amount was back in her account yesterday morning.”

The coffee machine beeped and Dolores went to the cupboard, pulling out four mugs. She set them on the breakfast bar. “That, my dear ladies, was me.”

“But . . . how?” asked Susan. I glanced at her, noticing that even wearing one of Mike’s old uniform sweaters she was still shivering.

Dolores preened. “Jeremy Fox was greedier than he was smart. I invested in his project by way of international wire transfer. That’s how I found out he had an account in Belize. Once I knew where the money was, it was easy enough to do the rest. All I needed was his laptop. Jeremy was set up for online banking and, being lazy, he never deleted his browsing history.” She smiled. “He had a file with scans of all his victims’ checks, so I had their bank account information. And then I figured out he used his birthday for his password.” She smirked. “Such a moron! Once I was in, getting the money transferred back to everybody’s account was a piece of cake.”

“But, I heard you argue with him the day before he died.” Susan no longer sounded confrontational—just wary.

“That’s right. He caught me trying to log on to his laptop and he went ballistic. I’m pretty sure he didn’t sleep too well that night.”

There was another long silence. There were still a few things I didn’t quite understand. “Did you call him the night he was killed?”

“I trust you won’t tell the police about this.” And then without waiting for a reply, she explained. “I had to get him out of his house long enough to break in and get his laptop. I called him and told him that I knew where he had hidden all the money, but that as long as he paid me back my own investment, I would destroy the evidence. I asked him to meet with me in that building, and then I hid behind his house, waiting for stupid Marsha to leave.” She rolled her eyes. “I thought the woman would never go. She must have stayed there an hour. Anyhow, I never went near that building that night, so I have no idea who killed him.” And then giving us another smug smile, she added, “But as far as I’m concerned, the murderer deserves a medal.”

Susan cleared her throat. “I don’t understand. You have lots of money. The amount you stood to lose was nothing for you. Why go to all that trouble?”

Dolores picked up the carafe and poured. “Nobody believed me when I said that my husband had been murdered.”

“I believed you,” said Jenny. “I had a feeling all along.”

Dolores glanced at her, then said without pausing, “It didn’t take me long to figure out that Jeremy Fox killed him.” There was pain in her eyes when she went on. “I couldn’t prove it. But if I couldn’t get him for my husband’s murder, I was bloody well going to make him pay somehow. And the next best way to hurt him was through his pocket.”

“Why do you think he killed your husband?”

Dolores carried the mugs over and set milk and sugar on the counter. “Greg was a threat to Jeremy’s project. He had organized a petition to stop it.”

At last Susan said, “But what about the gun? I saw it in your purse.”

For the first time since we arrived, Dolores blanched. “Wh-what gun?”

“That was Marnie’s gun, wasn’t it?” I asked. “Mercedes took it from her closet, didn’t she?”

Dolores plopped down onto a bar seat, looking defeated. She dropped her face into her hands and haltingly explained. “Mercedes went through a bad time last year. She was caught stealing from a few stores. Mike gave her a good talking-to and scared the daylights out of her—or at least I thought he did because she seemed to be coming around. And then I found a gun in her backpack. When I questioned her, she admitted that the gun belonged to Marnie. The last thing I wanted was to get her into more trouble. I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone that she had stolen it, especially Marnie. She’s one of the few people who like Mercedes. So I did the next best thing. I turned it in to the police and told them I found it.”

Next to me, Susan said, “You gave it to the police?”

I swung around and looked at her. All at once my eyes fell on the police sweater she was wearing. I stared at the frayed edges of the collar. Something about the thread—then it hit me. The thread I’d found in the hedge at David’s house— I felt the blood drain from my face. “You didn’t by any chance give that gun to Mike, did you?”

“Yes, why?”

My heart went into overdrive. I turned to Jenny. “Do you know where Matthew is this morning?”

She looked at me, puzzled. “He said he was going to work on his car.”

“I have to get there. Now!” I scooped my crutches under my arms.

Susan and Dolores stared at me, looking puzzled. Jenny ran out ahead of me, opening the passenger-side door and running around to slide behind the wheel. I closed the door and we took off.

Jenny raced down the street. “What’s wrong?” Something in her voice made me think she already suspected. I had to keep my theory to myself until I was absolutely sure. I had never so much wanted to be wrong. “I’ll tell you later.”

We pulled up in front of Matthew’s house and I pushed the car door open before we’d come to a full stop. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

If I was right about this, the last thing I wanted was for Jenny to be a witness. “No, you go on home. I’ll call you later.”

Before she could argue, I hurried to the house and let myself in, closing the door softly behind me. I leaned against the doorframe for a second, willing my heart to slow down. I took a deep breath, praying I was just being paranoid. And then something came charging at me and I almost screamed.

“Winnie,” I whispered, as he covered me with slurpy kisses. “You nearly scared me to death. Is Daddy here?”

He titled his head, giving me a perplexed look.

“Shh. You stay here.” I climbed the stairs as quietly as I could—which was not very, considering the crutches—followed by a disobedient Winston. That dog never was any good at taking orders. In Matthew’s bedroom I got on my hands and knees and fumbled through the closet until I realized the gun was gone.

I stumbled back down the stairs with no idea what I should do. On my way to the door I spotted my stick shuttle. I grabbed it, jamming it in my pocket. It was as good a weapon as a gun I had no clue how to use. “Okay, Winston, let’s go catch ourselves a killer.”

I
made my way between the house and the garage without any semblance of a plan. Was I going to hit him over the head with my crutches? Or would I stab him with my shuttle? Or hide it behind my back, pretending it was a gun, and try to bluff a confession out of him? As I got nearer, I noticed the garage door was ajar. I moved closer. “Quiet, Winnie,” I ordered in a low voice.

Winnie stared back at me, and I could have sworn he was nodding.

“Sit,” I whispered. He dropped his butt to the ground with a thump, his eyes following me as I edged closer and closer to the door. I caught the end of something Matthew was saying.

“—you know I would never do that.”

And then Mike’s voice—“I have to hand it to you. You really had me fooled, but you can’t talk your way out of it now.” I gasped. Was Mike accusing him of murder? But Matthew’s next words put a different spin on what was going on.

“I’m not living
with
her. I’m only using the guest bedroom. And don’t worry. If it bothers you, I’ll move out.”

“Don’t take me for an idiot. You told me yourself, back in January, that you were in love with someone.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t talking about Jenny! Why don’t you put that gun away before somebody gets hurt?” My heart nearly stopped. Had I just heard correctly? Mike was holding a gun on Matthew? This time my heart nearly stopped.

Mike chuckled eerily. “You’re not fooling me one bit. Jenny is just like my mother. I don’t know how she guessed it, but as soon as I got sick, she started fooling around with every Tom, Dick and Harry—except in this case it was Greg, Jeremy and Matthew.”

There was a brief silence, and then, sounding strained, Matthew said, “Medicine has come a long way since your father’s cancer. There are brand-new treatments. You’ll probably—” I edged a few inches closer, my heart drumming madly in my chest. I dared a peek, but my eyes were unaccustomed to the dark inside the garage.

Mike cut him off sharply. “It’s too late for me. My cancer has metastasized. It’s in my bones and in my brain now. I’m going to die—and so are you. Now get on that dolly.”

Greg, Jeremy and Matthew.
Jenny had told me that Mike had suspected her of having an affair with Greg Hanson, and then he had turned up dead. She’d given Jeremy a reading at a restaurant. Could Mike have spotted them and jumped to one of his paranoid conclusions? And then
Jeremy
had turned up dead.

And now Matthew was living with Jenny. He was next, unless I saved him.

“Hold on,” Matthew argued, an edge to his voice. “You don’t want to do this, Mike. You’re an officer of the law. You’re not a killer.”

“You brought this on yourself. You all did! What have
I
got to lose? Get on that dolly. Now!”
But why does Mike want Matthew to get on the dolly?

My eyes were growing accustomed to the gloom. I could make out Mike, his back to me, pointing a gun at Matthew, as he obeyed Mike’s order. Just behind him, the left front wheel of his TR6 had been removed and the car was jacked up.

In a flash I knew exactly what he was planning. He wanted Matthew under the car so he could kick the jack out of place. The car would fall and crush Matthew to death—another tragic accident, just as Greg Hanson’s death had been.

I had to do something, but what? Point my shuttle from inside my pocket and pretend it was a gun? Or hit him over the head with it? Whatever I did, I would surely end up dead.

Suddenly Mike lifted his foot, placed it on the edge of the dolly and gave it a shove. Matthew rolled under the car. And then everything happened very fast.

I screamed, “No!” at the top of my lungs. Mike swung around, pointing the gun at me. Next to me, Winston growled and lunged for Mike’s wrist, clamping his teeth down hard. The gun went flying.

Matthew rolled out from under the car, leaped to his feet and grabbed Mike’s other arm, twisting it behind him.

I dropped my crutches and limped over. “Thank God you’re all right!”

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I’m fine. Could you please call the cops?” He winked at me, and his golden eyes made my fears melt away.

“Yeah,” I whispered, not minding one bit that he’d just called me kiddo again. “Right away.” I went inside and dialed 911.