Never Tease a Siamese: A Leigh Koslow Mystery (32 page)

Surely it wouldn’t matter what she signed, she assured herself. If she ran straight to the police afterward, Sheridan would be arrested before the ink was dry.

Or would he? Suddenly, her stomach felt like lead. Neither she nor Warren had done a thing they could be prosecuted for, it was true. But for that matter, was there any hard evidence against Sheridan?

If she walked away tonight safe and sound, charges of kidnapping would be a hard sell. And without proof of his involvement in either the threats or the murders, any accusations she made would be her word against his. She didn’t have a criminal record per se, but her name had been in the papers a few more times than she would have liked.

Sheridan, on the other hand, was a man of the law. His record could very well be squeaky clean. And given so much as an hour in his office, he could undoubtedly destroy all evidence of both his previous and impending fraud. He probably had an alternative "sealed" envelope just waiting—complete with Nancy Johnson’s name. How could he be prosecuted then? There would be no visible motive for him to harm Mrs. Murchison. As for Peggy Linney, there was no evidence she had ever been murdered in the first place.

Leigh breathed deeply, trying to steady her nerves. She had two things on her side that Sheridan didn’t have: the truth, and Maura Polanski. And that wasn’t even counting her Aunt Bess, who seemed to have more than a little influence with the county homicide squad. The police would find
some
evidence against Sheridan, she was certain. And in the end, justice would prevail.

But the smart-alecky SOB was right about one thing. It would not take much embellishment on his part for the media to have a field day with Councilman Harmon first.

And retractions never made page one.

Leigh gathered her nerve. She had set up this scheme and she would see it through. It was the only way.
When
, not
if
, she managed to get away, she must make absolutely sure that William Sheridan became dog meat.

Instantly.

They both fell silent as the Town Car tooled over rain-soaked roads back into the main part of the park. The storm was letting up, and her spirits rose. She didn’t know where he would take her to "sign," but almost anywhere would be safer than the deserted picnic grove they were leaving. And should it begin to look like the whole signing thing was a ploy, she could always grab the wheel and wreck the car.

She reached over and fastened her seat belt.

They were partners now, or so he thought, she mulled. If he had truly bought her story, perhaps he would let his guard down. There was still a lot she didn’t understand, and the police would need specifics.

But she couldn’t tip him off, either.

"Are you sure you can get the money?" she asked critically.

His lips pursed with insult. "Of course. That’s a stupid question."

"No, it’s not," she responded sourly. "I have a lot invested here. I don’t want you to screw it up."

His face grew red again. "I assure you I was doing quite well without your interference."

"Oh, really?"
she pushed. "The police know that both of us visited Peggy Linney just hours before she died. If you poisoned her, they can still find traces, even though she’s been cremated. Did you think of that?"

"Don’t be ridiculous," he growled. "They can’t pull poison from ashes."

"Shows what you know," she bluffed. "You have no idea what they can do with PCR these days.
I
know my forensics. Now, what kind of poison was it? Some are traceable, others aren’t. You didn’t use the traceable kind, did you?"

She kept her tone as condescending as possible, rather like one child informing another that his underwear was on backwards. Much to her delight, the younger child bristled nicely.

"I didn’t use poison, you idiot!" he fumed. Then he caught himself. "But if I
had
wanted to off the old witch, I would have smothered her with a pillow. I would have called and asked to see her, said hello to a neighbor on the way in, had a nice chat with the woman, then—as far as she knew—left."

Aha
. "So, you opened and shut the door while her back was turned?" Leigh surmised, feigning admiration. "Pretty good. Then you hid until someone else showed up. Someone who could attest to the fact that you weren’t there. Someone like me."

He smirked.

"Then you took off for real, being careful this time that no one saw you."

The smirk widened. "You’re a genius," he said facetiously.

"Thank you," she answered sincerely. "The only problem is, you didn’t need to risk it at all. She didn’t tell me a thing."

The smirk disappeared. "I know
that
, Ms. Koslow. But that doesn’t mean she
wouldn’t
have starting yapping if she lived long enough to see Dean lose his money. She was a low risk, granted, but silencing her was a much lower risk, all things considered. One’s options have to be weighed."

Leigh was silent for another moment. Sheridan had driven out of the park and onto Perry Highway, one of the North Hills’ main corridors. With any luck, he was on his way back to Avalon, and his office.

She smiled a little. He
did
believe her.

"I can’t believe you hid there in that dinky little apartment for hours," she continued conversationally. "I’d be bored out of my gourd."

His chest practically puffed with self-regard. "I’m a very patient man, Ms. Koslow. You would do well to exercise that skill yourself. Everything I have accomplished so far has been accomplished through consummate patience."

Leigh thought quickly, then gave a rude snort. She needed something to link him to Lilah’s murder, and she couldn’t help but remember Adith Rhodis’ ribald comment at the will reading. Could Sheridan and Lilah have been involved romantically? If so, it could only hurt his case. "Oh, please," she said disdainfully. "Patience had nothing to do with it! Lilah Murchison just happened to pick your firm—the opportunity fell right in your lap."

Sheridan took his eyes off the road just long enough to stare daggers at her. "Nothing
fell into my lap
, Ms. Koslow. I assure you, I had been working for months to get the Murchison account away from Lang and Madia."

She smirked. "Right. A little wine, a little soft music…"

The car swerved violently, and Sheridan’s face flushed to an odd purple color. The man was a multicolor marvel. "I’m going to say this one time, and one time only," he began, his tone deadly serious. "I was
not
involved with Lilah Murchison that way.
Ever.
She saw what she wanted to see."

Leigh’s eyebrows rose. It was hardly the reaction she had expected. "Fine," she said more amiably, none too anxious to plow into a fire hydrant. Not unless absolutely necessary, anyway.

They moved down Perry Highway at a good clip, then crossed over the interstate toward Avalon. "I knew that Mrs. Murchison was alive after the plane crash," she bragged, still fishing. "
You
didn’t know that."

"I had no way of knowing," he huffed. "Speaking of which, how did you? She insisted no one could have known she was alive. She rushed straight from the plane to some veterinary emergency clinic, and after she heard about the crash, she kept out of sight intentionally because she wanted to know how her daughter would react. The she-devil had a grand entrance all planned for her memorial service."

The last conversation Leigh had had with Sheridan at his office came flooding back to her, along with a fresh wave of mortification. It was all
her
fault. She was the one who had tipped off the lawyer about Lilah’s return. And that very night he had gone to the Murchison mansion…

"She brought the sick cat back to the house with her," Leigh answered dully, feeling a little nauseous again. "And it didn’t hide."

Sheridan swore under his breath. "I should have known it would be something like that. She was such a fool."

Trying hard not to let her guilt get the best of her now, Leigh baited him further. "Lucky for you she was."

"Pardon?"

"If you hadn’t gotten a heads-up from me,
you might not have got to her before she talked to somebody else," Leigh managed to brag. "And once she found out what you did to her will, it was all over."

"One can’t plan for
every
contingency," he said humorlessly. "The woman was supposed to be dead. In any event, Ms. Koslow, it isn’t over until it’s over. As I told you before, I’m a patient man."

Sheridan’s law firm was only a few blocks ahead now, she told herself, and soon she would be free. He would have to unlock the cuff to let her walk inside; he would have no reason to assume she would run. And even if he had been calling her bluff all along, he couldn’t possibly kill her in broad daylight in the middle of his driveway.

Of course, once she did run, he would instantly start to cover his tracks. And in the time it might take for Maura to get a warrant, he had a very good chance of succeeding. More nausea rolled up strong. Her only other alternative was to willingly accompany him into his office, and hope that he felt confident enough in her
not
to bother destroying any evidence afterward. But how could she be sure of that? If he had even a shred of reservation about their "deal," he could doctor the relevant documents temporarily, just in case. Then there would still be no good evidence against him—but he would have plenty of new, falsified evidence against her.
And
Warren.

A block and a half. She had to run. She had to run straight to the Avalon police station, and she had to have something credible to offer them when she got there. "Well, I’m
not
patient," she groused, thinking quickly. "What kind of time frame are we talking about here? When do I get my share?"

"When I say so," he responded flatly.

"Forget that!" she complained. "I need it within a year."

He laughed mirthlessly. "Ms. Koslow, don’t insult me. You’re in no position to be calling the shots; you are entirely dependent on my plan. And my plan requires several years for the hubbub over the murder and threats to dissipate." He paused a moment. "Besides, my mother has to die."

Leigh stared at him, horrified. "You’re going to off your own mother?"

For some reason, he seemed to find that comment hilarious. "My mother has been in a nursing home for years, Ms. Koslow," he said when his chortles had diminished. "I assure you she’ll manage to die without any help from me."

He exhaled dramatically as his office came into sight. "Now, Nancy Johnson is another matter. She may require some assistance."

Leigh’s own breaths were coming fast and shallow. She was nauseous as hell, he was talking nonsense, and she had to be ready to bolt. "I thought you said Nancy wouldn’t talk," she said weakly.

"Not until the real heir comes forward," he said with a smirk. "Then I suspect she might consider it. But by then, she’ll be too dead to consider much of anything. Time will have passed, you see, Ms. Koslow, and time is a patient man’s weapon. When the real heir inherits, no one will even think to connect the dots."

"And who is your 'real’ heir?" she asked quickly. "Their cut had better be coming out of your share and not mine. And you’d better have your ducks in a row. There is such a thing as DNA."

He steered the Town Car into the tiny lane that served as his office’s driveway. "Oh, don’t worry Ms. Koslow," he said tonelessly. "You’ll get what’s coming to you."

Time is a patient man’s weapon.

And in a few years, no one would connect her own death to the Murchison money either.

The car stopped. He switched off the engine and threw her a warning look. "I hope you know that running now is pointless. Anything you
think
I might have said in the last half hour is entirely hearsay, and you have no evidence whatsoever that I brought you here against your will. I met with you at your request, you claimed that your car had broken down, you asked me for a ride to Avalon, and you said you wanted to use my phone. I have no idea why you should do such a thing, unless, of course, it would be to sneak a peek at my files. Which, I might add, can be entirely in order in a matter of minutes. Are we clear, Ms. Koslow?"

Leigh didn’t answer. She sat still.

"Well?" he asked again, opening his car door. "Are you coming with me, or aren’t you?"

He didn’t manage to say anything else. The second his door opened, a pair of strong arms heaved him up, out, and face-down on the hood.

"You have the right to remain silent," Maura began, stealing a quick glance inside the passenger compartment as she quoted.

Leigh breathed out with a smile.

"Anything you say—"

"This is preposterous!" Sheridan ranted, fighting to make eye contact with Leigh through the windshield. "I’m afraid you’ve made a terrible mistake." His eyes bore into hers with menace. "
Haven’t they
, Ms. Koslow?"

Two uniformed officers had appeared with Maura, and one of them opened the passenger door. "No, Mr. Sheridan," Leigh answered, lifting her still-shackled leg into view. "
You
have."