Shelley Freydont - Celebration Bay 03 - Independence Slay (10 page)

“Chaz!” For a second, Liv couldn’t get her feet to move. “Chaz!” The second scream released her and she rushed to the edge of the parapet, adrenaline, compounded by fear, coursing through her.

She barely felt the rough stones scraping her hands as she dragged herself across the stone wall and peered over.

Only to let out a wordless scream as she came almost face-to-face with a grinning Chaz Bristow. Her breath whooshed out. “What?” was all she could get out.

“Aw. I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t, you jerk. You scared me to death. That was an awful thing to do.” And to her dismay she felt her eyes fill with tears. Only to be displaced by red-hot anger as she realized he was standing on a ledge not five feet below her.

“It would have served you right if that damn ledge had given way and you’d plunged a hundred feet to your death. And I would be left up here staring down at your mangled body.”

“And you’d have to go down those creepy stairs all by yourself.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Or, heartbroken, you could have thrown yourself after me.”

“Don’t count on it. How did you know that was there?”

“Used to climb up here when I was a kid. It was our secret clubhouse.”

Liv looked down at him and tried to imagine him as a kid. Probably one of those smart-aleck boys who was always in trouble.

“Don’t you want to know what we did up here?”

“No,” she said, peering down at the stone ledge. Now that her heart rate was returning to normal, she saw that, even though it was probably four feet wide, wide enough to catch anyone’s fall—she swallowed hard—it would still have been very easy to overshoot and lose one’s balance and… It was a sheer drop below.

Pushing the possible consequences from her imagination, her rational mind began to understand that the murderer must have known about the ledge, maybe even practiced the drop in case his normal means of escape proved unusable, which it must have done when Leo came to the roof.

“And how do you plan to get back up?”

“Well,” Chaz said, as he bent over and appeared to be scrutinizing the wall, “I could keep going the way I started.”

Liv leaned farther over and looked past him.

“Careful.”

It wasn’t a sheer drop to the ground, as she’d thought. There was another ledge another few yards below, and another one below that, offset just enough that a person could jump from one to the other. Still, it was a pretty difficult exit route. It would take time, and one misstep could leave a person dead or seriously injured.

“I think you’d better climb back up.”

“Nah, I’ll just do this.” He disappeared again.

“Chaz.” This time Liv was more annoyed than frightened. She waited until Chaz’s head appeared from out of the stone wall, and he grinned up at her like the Cheshire cat.

“Let me guess. There’s an open window.”

“Yep,” he said. “I’ll meet you back on the street.”

“The heck you will. I’m not going down that way by myself.” She pulled off her shoes and held them down for him to take.

“This I gotta see.”

“No, you don’t. You’re going to come back out here and help me down. And don’t back off the ledge by mistake.”

He hesitated. “Liv, really, it’s too dangerous. I’ll go down and let you in the house.”

“And risk running into Hildy? I don’t think so.”

“I’d rather you take on Hildy than drop from the roof like a bale of hay.”

“I’ll remember you said that.”

He grumbled but crawled back out the window and onto the ledge.

“And no smarmy comments,” she said as she tried not to think about what she was doing and how far it was to the ground. She just kept reminding herself that it couldn’t be worse than breaking an ankle and having to hop down that awful staircase, across the yard, and through the underbrush on one foot.

No. She’d take her chances with Chaz.

“And pay attention to what you’re doing.” She hiked her skirt up.

“Yes ma’am.” But his smile faded as she threw her leg over the stone wall.

And she didn’t complain when his hand grabbed her butt and lowered her to the second ledge or held on to her a little longer than necessary when she was on her feet again.

Neither of them spoke until they’d both climbed through the window and were standing safely on the inside.

Chaz closed the window and turned to her. “What a view.” Then he grew serious again. “I shouldn’t have let you do that.”

Liv, who was pulling her dress down to where it belonged, frowned, confused. “You couldn’t have stopped me. Now, where the hell are we?”

“One of the storerooms. And scene of many teenage trysts.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Ignoring him, she looked around. It was a real junk room. Cast-off furniture, stacks of old magazines. Trunks and cardboard boxes, filled with God knew what. And all of it dusty. “Do you think the killer escaped this way?”

They were both talking just above a whisper, though Liv doubted if anyone could hear them, even if they were standing in the next room.

“Possibly. If Leo’s version can be believed.”

“You have doubt?”

“Always. About everything. Leo thought he saw the ghost. Maybe it was the killer, maybe it was his expectations of seeing the ghost…” He trailed off as he began looking around. “Don’t move and don’t touch anything.”

Normally she wouldn’t, but she hardly had space to turn around. Which meant the killer would have been cramped, too. Even to make a getaway, especially if he had to hide for any length of time. She couldn’t even see the door from where she stood.

She looked around. Boxes and crates rose to the ceiling. Everything was covered with unrelieved dust. And then she saw something. Maybe it was nothing, but…

“Chaz,” she whispered. “Look at this.”

He squeezed in next to her. She pointed at a cardboard box that stood about knee-high. “Something disturbed this dust.”

It was an uneven disturbance in the dust surface. As if someone had quickly and ineffectively passed a dust cloth over it. Which Liv recognized because she was pretty ineffective with a dust cloth herself.

“A dust cloth or… . Leo said he wore a cape. Do you think—?”

“No.”

“Why not? The hem of the cape might be just this height, depending on the length of the cape and the height of the killer, and the ratio of the two.”

“But he would really have to be a ghost.”

“Why?”

“Look.” Chaz pointed to the floor. “Dust, dust, and nothing but dust. Not even the ham-footed evidence of a bungled police investigation.”

“Surely Bill had his men search.”

Chaz cut her off. “Nope.”

“In other words, all this has proved nothing,” Liv said, disappointed.

“At least it might cut down on the possible escape routes. Because, unless this guy could fly, he didn’t come through here.”

“Are there other windows?”

“Lots of them—and ledges and roofs.”

“Great. We’re right back where we started. No suspects.”

He patted her on the back. “You give up too easy.”

“But why not just go back the way he came? No, never mind. Leo. Leo cut off his escape. Except Leo was so petrified. He probably could have run right past him and down the stairs. But he didn’t, so it still means he was someone who knew about the ledge.”

“Well, don’t look at me.”

“Don’t be absurd,” she sighed. “But who? How many people knew about the ledge.”

“Everybody who grew up around here knows about the ledge.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Jumping off the roof was a rite of passage, and it really impressed the girls.”

Liv huffed out a breath, sat down on a dusty trunk, and began brushing off the bottom of her feet before putting her shoes on. “Who would go to all this trouble to kill Jacob Rundle? Surely there are more convenient places to kill a gardener.”

“Maybe they weren’t after Jacob.”

“You think they were after Henry Gallantine?”

“Or maybe Henry was after Rundle.”

“On the roof?” She swung her shoe by the strap. “Unless he killed him because he was on the roof.”

Chaz choked out a laugh.

“No, really. Hildy said Henry told Rundle that if he caught him in the house again, he’d fire him.”

“That’s interesting.” Chaz scratched his head and sat down beside her. Watched her slide her foot into her shoe.

“What?”

“Nice ankles. Maybe they killed Henry, too.”

“So where is the body?”

Slowly, Chaz looked down into the space between them.

Liv jumped to her feet. “You think he’s in the trunk?”

Chaz shrugged. “Let’s see.”

Liv stepped back, forcing herself not to close her eyes.

Chaz leaned over the trunk, squatted down, and tested the lock. “It’s not locked.”

“Maybe you should wait and call Bill.”

He opened the top. His breath caught.

“What? What is it?”

Chaz gave her a long hard look. “If I tell you, I’ll have to…”

“Kill me?”

“No.” He held up his hand. Crooked his little finger. “Pinky swear.”

“Aargh. Let me see.” She leaned over and came face-to-face with what looked like a crate full of old velvet curtains.

“Not just curtains,” Chaz said, when Liv told him so. “Stage curtains. Back from when Henry decided to try his hand at directing and opened a little theater in town. Alas, we’re not a very cultured lot.”

“We’re wasting time.”

“But who would you rather waste time with?”

He just wouldn’t let up. But for once, her relief at having him back on the job, and as smarmy as ever, trumped her annoyance. It made her think maybe he would get involved. For Leo’s sake.

“I’d rather someone caught the murderer.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing.”

“It’s useless. There are too many possibilities and all of them absurd. Jacob Rundle killed Gallantine so he could take his place on the roof. Or Gallantine found out Rundle was impersonating him and killed Rundle. But could that old man actually jump up to the parapet, much less jump backward off the parapet and land without breaking every bone in his body? Scale the walls to the ground or climb in the window and teleport over this junk and let himself out the door?”

“Henry’s not that old. And he’s pretty good about keeping himself in shape. These actor types.”

“Or it’s someone we haven’t discovered yet,” Liv suggested. “With their own priorities, their own motives, and their own means of escape.” She did a quick three-sixty turn in the narrow space.

Chaz shook his head. “It’s amazing you get anything accomplished, ever.”

“Why?”

“The way your mind flits all over the place.”

She sank into one hip. “Among intelligent people, it’s known as multitasking.”

“Huh.”

“So, what do we do now?”

Chaz looked around. Surveyed everything once more. Liv thought she could see him memorizing the room. Or maybe she was just hoping that he really did have an idea.

“I say we have lunch.”

Great. She should have known better than to think he would show a continued interest in the case. Even for Leo.

“You have lunch. I’m going to do something to help Leo.”

“Don’t forget your shoes.”

Liv snatched her shoes from the floor. Now her feet were all dusty again.

Chaz crossed his arms and frowned at her. “You know, you dragged me out of my slough of despond, where I was very happy, badgered me into talking to Leo, and now you’re yammering on about I don’t know what. I need sustenance. Now, be quiet.”

He walked past her and turned the knob to the door.

“Chaz, no,” Liv whispered urgently. “What if someone catches us?”

He grinned. “I’ll throw you in front of me and hope for the best.”

He opened the door and stepped out into a hallway, Liv on his heels.

“Stop right there.”

Liv recognized the voice, but it wasn’t until Chaz froze and she peered around him that she saw what had caused his sudden reaction. Hildy Ingersoll was standing not five feet away, frown on her face, feet apart, and pointing what looked like a double-barrel shotgun right at them.

“Hands up.” She shoved the shotgun in the air.

Liv lifted her hands.

“Now, Hildy…” Chaz began.

“I said hands up.”

Chaz slowly raised his hands. “You’ve been watching too much television, Hildy. You know I’m always welcome here.”

“Not when Mr. Henry ain’t home.”

“Where is he?”

“I’m the one asking the questions.”

“Definitely too much television,” Chaz said out of the side of his mouth.

“Chaz,” Liv whispered. “Stop it.” She was beginning to shake. Would Hildy actually shoot them? Liv supposed she would be within her rights, especially in Celebration Bay, where more people than not owned guns.

“What were you two doing in there? How did you get up here? And none of your tricks, Charlie Bristow.”

Chaz winced. And if Liv hadn’t been frozen in terror, she would have enjoyed his discomfort.

“I already called the sheriff. People traipsing in and out at all hours with no respect, no respect at all, and on the Lord’s day. He shall smite those who…”

“Aw, Hildy,” Chaz said in his best good-old-boy drawl. “You know we always liked playing up here.”

“I know what you boys were doing up here. Smoking and drinking and having your way with the girls.” She turned her beady eyes on Liv. “No good white trash, that’s what I say.” Looked Liv up and down. “And you. You oughta be ashamed of yourself. And you representing the community like you do. Shame on you and your filthy city ways.”

Liv started to protest that they weren’t up to any… what? Smoking, drinking, or having their way with each other? She couldn’t think of a term that wouldn’t set off the righteous Hildy on a new tirade. On the other hand, neither could she tell the housekeeper that they were looking for a murderer.

And Chaz was no help. He just grinned at Hildy like he’d been caught out. And he hadn’t. At least not with Liv.

“Hildy, it’s not what you think,” Liv began.

“It’s worse,” Chaz said. “Now, come on down and let us out the front door before the sheriff gets here.”

Hildy jerked the shotgun toward the staircase leading downstairs.