Skating Under the Wire: A Mystery (Rebecca Robbins Mysteries) (31 page)

I grabbed the phone and dialed Sean’s number. Direct to voice mail. Damn. My phone had reception, which meant he was in a bad spot. Hoping he’d get the message, I said, “Sean, I know who killed Ginny and who’s behind the robberies. If you’re around—”

The back door on the driver’s side opened and light filled the car, momentarily blinding me. I spun in my seat, expecting to see Sean climbing inside. Instead, I came face-to-face with a Pilgrim-attired Ethel Jacabowski, who was calmly holding a syringe against my neck.

Twenty-four

Shit! Shit! Ow.

“Please don’t move, Rebecca. Otherwise you’ll be sorry. Insulin doesn’t kill instantly, but by the time someone found you out here and got you to a hospital…” Ethel reached over and plucked the phone out of my hand. “Let’s just say it would be best if that doesn’t happen. Trust me when I say I really don’t want to hurt you.”

The syringe pricking the side of my neck was evidence to the contrary, but what did I know?

“Why are you here?” I asked, trying hard to keep very, very still.

“Because I need you to do something for me. I need you to understand what I did.” Ethel shifted, and the needle poked deeper into my neck. Yeouch. I whimpered and bit my lip. My eyes watered, but I didn’t move. Death wasn’t on my agenda.

Trying to think my way out of this, I said, “You’ve been robbing houses for ten years.”

“Technically, eleven, but yes.” Ginny sighed. “Your grandfather was positive you’d figure out who was behind the thefts. I wanted to believe he was wrong. I wanted to believe a lot of things.”

Ethel’s Pilgrim-clad shoulders slumped. Her eyes looked tired. Worn. Incredibly sad. Nevertheless, the needle didn’t falter against my throat. No matter how unhappy and fatigued she was, Ethel meant business. I was screwed.

“You’ve probably figured out most of it by now. Arthur told me you would.” Ethel smiled. “Of course, he didn’t know I was partially responsible.”

“You’re also responsible for Ginny’s murder.”

The smile disappeared. “Ginny was my best friend, but yes. I killed her, and you probably want to know why.”

The needle edged deeper into my flesh. Something wet trickled down my neck. Sweat or blood, I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. A little blood wouldn’t kill me. It was a press of the plunger that would do that job. I had to hope Sean had seen the light in my car go on and would feel inclined to come over and yell at me. Until that happened, I needed to say whatever Ethel wanted to hear in order to keep me alive.

Since Ethel said she wanted to explain, I said, “I would like to know. I assumed it had something to do with the thefts.”

Ethel’s bonnet shifted over her forehead as she nodded. “Twelve years ago, my Paul got sick with cancer. They tried everything, but nothing took away the pain or stopped the disease. A friend gave him a drug to help with the pain.”

“Seth Kurtz. I found the marijuana plants he grows in the basement.”

She let out another sigh. “Paul helped Seth turn those plants into a business that would help other people like him. There’s so much pain in the world. We couldn’t see the harm in growing something that could take the pain away. Seth promised to rent a place with the profits so we could spend the winter together with all our friends in Florida.” Tears shimmered in Ethel’s eyes. “Paul hated the cold. He didn’t want to spend the end of his life in the snow. Only, when the time came, Seth backed out of the deal.”

“So you and Paul broke into the Kurtzes’ house to get what was owed to you.”

She smiled. “Paul read an advertisement in the paper about Pilgrims who would deliver Thanksgiving dinner to you for a fee. He thought that would make the perfect cover, since the Pilgrims have to carry boxes in and out of houses. If someone spotted us, they’d see the costumes and assume we were strangers. None of our friends would ever believe it was us. My Paul was smart. Even when he was in pain, he liked planning for every contingency.” She smiled at the memory. “Paul asked Ginny to make the costumes, and her husband, Walter, sneaked Jan’s spare key out of the silverware drawer when she wasn’t looking.”

Well, that explained the costume Ethel was wearing and the renegade Pilgrims who had been spotted zipping around town today.

The interior light clicked off, cloaking everything in darkness. Suddenly, the needle felt sharper, the possibility of death more real. I told myself to stay calm, but my body wasn’t listening. My heart slammed in my chest. My breathing was shallow, and the rest of me was clammy with sweat. “How did you get past the dogs?” My voice was hollow with fear.

“Walter and Ginny had steak laced with sleeping pills in their delivery boxes. When the dogs fell asleep, Paul and I went downstairs and took the cash from marijuana sales that Seth had yet to deposit. It wasn’t as much as Paul had expected, so we filled the empty boxes with other things to make up the difference. We didn’t think Seth and Jan would call the cops, but Jan mentioned the theft to her son and he insisted. Thankfully, by the time we returned from Florida, the police had stopped investigating the case. Paul was so sick by then I doubt they would have considered questioning us even if they’d thought of it.”

Okay, I almost understood the first theft … but the second? “Why did you rob Mr. Donovan’s house the next year?”

“Because Paul wanted to. Planning the theft of the Donovan farm and reading books about picking locks were the only things that kept him going. I still have the tools he ordered. He loved helping me learn how to use them.” Ethel wiped a tear off her cheek. “When he passed that October, the rest of us decided to go through with the robbery as a tribute to his memory.”

That was both screwy and sweet.

“We created an account for money we received after selling the things we took. Ginny and I worked it out so that every year a different member would access the account and pay the rent on our winter condo. That way no one would wonder how any one person could afford to pay so much. Social Security isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, you know.”

The needle shifted, and I let out a small yelp.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” Ethel said. “I can’t remove the syringe or you’ll run away, but I’ll try to keep still so I don’t hurt you any more than necessary.”

Call me crazy, but that didn’t make me feel any better.

“If you and Ginny were in this together,” I asked, “why did you kill her?”

“Because after all these years, Ginny wanted to end the club.” Ethel sniffled. “Ginny’s granddaughter began having nightmares about the robberies. She was scared someone was going to come into her house and hurt her family. Two weeks ago, she wrote an essay for her English class about how the Thanksgiving thief had not only taken possessions but also stolen the warmth and joy of the holiday from everyone in this town. Ginny’s granddaughter got an A on the paper, and Ginny told me we had to turn ourselves in. She wanted the town to feel safe spending Thanksgiving with their families again.”

Wow. After a decade of crime, that had to have been one heck of an essay.

“Ginny didn’t care that we’d go to jail. She wasn’t scared, but I was. The idea of being confined in a cell terrified me. I asked her to wait a few days before talking to the others, just in case she changed her mind. I knew she wouldn’t, though.” The syringe trembled against my neck. “She didn’t have the right to make that kind of choice for all of us, but she was going to. Unless I stopped her. I slipped three sleeping pills into her cranberry juice before we walked over to the center for Danielle’s shower. She started feeling woozy during one of the games, and I convinced her to go down the hall and put her feet up. She was asleep when I went to check on her. If she’d been awake, I wouldn’t have done it. I couldn’t have. But I was scared and ashamed, and I put the needle in her arm and gave her the shot of my insulin. I thought I was making everything better.” Ethel’s voice hitched. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dim light, I could see the tears streaming down her face as she whispered, “I was wrong.”

My heart squeezed with sympathy even as it pounded with fear. “So now what?”

Ethel took a deep breath and sniffed back tears. “Now you can tell the sheriff what I did and why. You should also tell Jimmy not to leave his keys in the car and that it’s not his fault you were hurt.”

“You ran me down?” Why that should surprise me after what I’d just heard, I wasn’t sure, but it did.

“I didn’t intend to do more than scare you. You were supposed to recognize the car and think Jimmy was behind it all. The sheriff would eventually let Jimmy off the hook, and by that time the rest of us would be in Florida. Only I’m not supposed to drive at night, and I misjudged the distance. The one thing I actually did right was picking your lock. My Paul would have been proud of me for being able to do it so quickly.” Her hand trembled. “He would be so disappointed in everything else. I should have thought things through before acting. That’s what I’ve been doing the last couple of days—thinking. Which is why I know I’m doing the right thing. The truth won’t bring Ginny back, but it might give her family peace of mind.”

“What about you?” I swallowed hard. “Will confession help you find peace?”

“No.” Ethel shook her head. “But this will.”

Before I could register her movements, Ethel lifted the syringe from my neck, pushed it against hers, and depressed the plunger.

“Oh my God.” I fumbled to release my seat belt and scrambled between the seats into the back of the car. Ethel gave me a sad smile as I felt around the seat for my phone. It had to be here somewhere. Insulin took a while to hit the bloodstream. If I called for help now, there might be a chance to save Ethel. She might not want to live, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her die. I needed my phone.

Got it. More important, I had a signal.

I dialed Doc’s number, begged him to get here fast, and then called Sean. Doc lived just over a mile down the road. Sean was parked up the block. As I waited for them to arrive, I tried to coax Ethel into drinking some of the soda I’d left in my car last week. It was flat and probably tasted terrible, but it had sugar in it. Ethel needed sugar to counteract the insulin. No matter how I begged or the tears I shed, Ethel refused. Taking my hand, she gave me a small smile and told me everything was going to be okay now. I heard the echo of sirens and hoped she was right.

*

My hair was molded to my scalp. My purple taffeta dress was hideous but fit perfectly. Standing across the room, Annette adjusted the veil on Danielle’s head while Erica the Red sniffled. The smile on Danielle’s face was brighter than the rhinestones that glittered at her neck and ears. She looked perfect. Everything looked perfect. It almost made it possible to forget everything that had happened less than twenty-four hours ago.

Annette had waved her makeup magic wand and made the red syringe mark on my neck vanish, but she couldn’t take away the ache from the wound or the concern that Ethel wouldn’t pull through. Doc said there was a chance she’d come out of the diabetic coma, but all the medicine in the world couldn’t give a person the will to live. Maybe knowing the rest of the Winter Migration Club had gotten out of town before Sean and Sheriff Jackson arrived to arrest them would ease some of the guilt she was trying to escape. I planned on filling her in when I visited tomorrow. Today was about Danielle and Rich.

It was standing room only in the sanctuary as I gave Danielle’s hand a squeeze, took my bouquet of daisies, and walked slowly down the aisle behind Erica the Red. Rich was beaming. When I turned to watch Danielle walk toward him, I smiled, too.

I blinked back tears as Danielle and Rich exchanged vows, and I saw lots of people reach for tissues when Rich slipped the ring on Danielle’s finger. Only Mother Lucas looked unmoved by the ceremony. Her lips formed a thin, almost disinterested smile throughout the service. Until, of course, she looked at me. Then she frowned. Oy! I had no idea what her problem was, but it was starting to irk me.

When the ceremony ended, the guests went to the reception hall. The rest of us stood for a seemingly endless number of photos. As Stan posed Danielle and Rich, I noticed Mrs. Lucas glaring in my direction and decided to find out why.

“I don’t like you,” she said, adjusting the daisy corsage on her beige dress. “You’ve pushed your taste, or lack of, onto my son’s wedding and encouraged Danielle to defy her new family at every turn. I don’t appreciate that kind of behavior.”

Personally, I didn’t appreciate her trying to make Danielle feel bad for having friends and opinions, but I decided to keep that to myself. Danielle was going to get enough grief being related to this lady. Instead, I said, “Danielle’s my friend. I had her best interests at heart.”

Stan asked for Mrs. Lucas to come up front for a photo op. She smiled at him and then turned back to me. “Danielle isn’t what I wanted for my son. He deserves the best, but he fell in love with her. I can tell she’s trying to be a good pastor’s wife, so I will do my best to accept that she is one of us.” She stood, adjusted her skirt, and smiled. “I don’t, however, have to accept you.”

The woman’s attitude was irritating but strangely refreshing. It was nice to have someone dislike me without threatening to kill me.

When Stan finished clicking the final photo, we trucked down to the hall for the cocktail hour. With lights dimmed and candles glowing, the room looked lovely. Lionel greeted me at the door with a glass of wine.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, brushing his fingers against the wound on my neck. His gentle touch made my heart flip.

“I’m fine.” Or I would be after I finished this glass of wine. “This is a happy day. Did your parents go back home? I feel bad I didn’t get the chance to say good-bye.”

“They left this morning, but they plan on coming back for Christmas. You’ll have your chance to see them again.” Lionel shifted his weight. “Before they left, my mother said she was worried she might have upset you. She said…” His handsome face flushed as he reached for the right words. “She thought I’d told you…”

“That you started planning one of these bashes for yourself.”