The Gossiping Gourmet: (A Murder in Marin Mystery - Book 1) (Murder in Marin Mysteries) (24 page)

With each new sentence he
added, Rob could feel the weight of the mystery lifting off of him. His final
deadline would be late Tuesday afternoon. Even with news of the arrest of Chris
Harding most likely breaking the day before the
Standard
would be
in-home, he was more certain than ever that only his paper’s readers would get
the full story.

He was so busy banging away
at his laptop that he hadn’t realized it was going on nine. He decided he would
wait until ten before giving Holly a call. Whatever else, he was certain of
this thought,
Holly’s going to flip when she hears that Warren Bradley’s
killer is one of Sausalito’s finest.

Rob called Holly’s home
number at ten. Having no luck, he tried her cell, but there was no answer there
either.

He was disappointed, but it
was okay; he had his hands full anyway. All of Sunday, he shaped, changed, and
re-edited his story.

Shortly before five in the
afternoon, Karin returned home with the children. Rob kissed her like she had
been gone for a month, and then excitedly said, “I’m going to put on
a
movie for the kids. You and I have to talk.”

When he told her, he wasn’t
surprised that she was speechless.

“Well, I knew the butler could
not have done it, Karin said. “Warren could never afford one.”

Karin was happy for Eddie,
thrilled for Rob, and pleased that the shadow of doubt would soon be removed
from Grant Randolph. “Holly was certainly right about one thing,” Karin
murmured. “She’s said for years that Warren Bradley was a creepy guy. Boy, she
nailed that one! I guess she’s a pretty good judge of character. Speaking of
Holly, what does she think of all this?”

“I’ve been trying her since
ten this morning, but I’ve had no luck.”

“Maybe she finally got smart
and she’s hiding out. You can’t blame the poor thing for wanting a little peace
and quiet, given how hard she works all week.” Karin, having done Holly’s
exhausting weekly routine, knew this better than most.

After dinner, Rob asked Karin
if she objected to his heading down to the office. “I have to clear some items
off my desk. I want to be able to spend most of Monday and Tuesday before press
time getting the Bradley story ready to go.”

“Of course I don’t mind,
honey,” Karin said. “I know what a huge week this is going to be for you. I’m
very happy for you, and I’m proud of the way you and Eddie worked together.
You’re quite a team.”

By seven on a Sunday evening
in downtown Sausalito, nearly all of the day-trippers have traveled back to San
Francisco, leaving the town once again to its citizens.

Rob walked along Bridgeway
toward his office on Princess Street. He passed cafes busy with diners, street
cleaners sweeping up after a busy weekend, and bike rental kiosk operators
closing up for the night. As he walked by the No Name Bar, he stopped for a
moment.

“What the hell, it’s worth a
shot,” Rob thought, as he turned to walk inside.

The place was just starting
to fill with the usual locals. Rob did a quick look around, and was disappointed
to not see Holly.

“Rob,” he heard a voice say.
He turned and saw Alberto standing behind him.

“Got the night off?” Rob
asked.

“Just finished the day shift.
You looking for Holly?”

“Yes. I was hoping she might
be here.”

“No, I haven’t seen her since
she was in on Friday. It was pretty funny.”

“What was?” Rob asked
quickly.

“She and the new cop in town
were sitting at the bar, making goo-goo eyes at each other. I think she’s
landed a good guy for a change. Anyway, they both beat it out of here—must have
been around nine, haven’t seen him or her since.”

Trying to remain calm, Rob
asked anxiously, “You don’t mean Chris Harding, do you?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Seems like
a really great guy,” Alberto called out in a loud and happy voice as Rob rushed
out the door.

A few minutes later, Rob was
seated at his desk. “This could be really bad,” he thought, as he took a deep
breath. He hoped to collect himself before picking up the phone to call Eddie.

“What the hell do you want?”
Eddie said, only half joking.

“Are you sitting down?”

“No, but I could be. Spill
it.”

“I’ve been trying to find
Holly all day, with no luck.”

“That’s no big deal, given
that it’s the weekend.”

“I just saw Alberto down at
the No Name. He last saw Holly Friday night. She left the bar—with Chris
Harding.”

“That’s not good. Where the
hell are you?”

“Down at the office.”

“I’ll be right down.”

After checking in with Rob,
Eddie went to Holly’s apartment on Caledonia Street. He got no answer when he
rang her doorbell, so he knocked on the neighbors’ doors at either side of her
unit. Both neighbors came to the door, and both reported they had not seen
Holly for the last two days.

Eddie had gotten Chris
Harding’s address earlier on Sunday, when he began his paperwork for the arrest
warrant. He drove over to Easterby, and parked on the opposite side of the
street from Chris’s cottage. He made sure that the unmarked car was away from
any street light that could illuminate the interior of his vehicle; he then
watched the house with binoculars. There was a light on in the kitchen. Before
long, he saw Holly walk in, stir a pot on the stove, and taste whatever it was
she was cooking. As she stirred once more, Chris, shirtless, came up behind
her, pulled her hair to one side, and nuzzled her neck. Holly turned and they
kissed.

“This looks more like a scene
out of
Love Story
than
Psycho
,” Eddie thought. “Boy, is she going
to be disappointed when I have to take her new sweetheart away.”

Eddie knew he had options,
all of which had to be considered. There was a very good chance that the arrest
scheduled for seven thirty the next morning would go off without a hitch. Holly
wasn’t in immediate danger. Perhaps a love slave, but not a hostage.

Still, if anything went
wrong, Holly was, after all, shacked up with a man who had committed a brutal
murder. Eddie could find himself in serious trouble, and worse than that, one
of his favorite people, crazy lovable Holly, could wind up being harmed. Eddie
sat in the dark and kept an eye on the cottage as he thought about his next
steps.

He decided, as he often did
in his work, on the middle path between being overly cautious and reckless
disregard for safety. His first step was to have a deputy in an unmarked
sheriff’s department vehicle park across the street for the balance of the
night, and remain there until Harding’s scheduled arrest.

As Eddie’s relief arrived,
also in an unmarked vehicle, he headed home for what would undoubtedly be a
fitful night’s sleep.

Rob arrived home and was
greeted by Karin, who immediately asked, “Why do you look so worried?” Rob came
so close to answering honestly, sharing his concerns about Holly, but then he
changed course.

“Oh, just trying to get this
story in the best shape I possibly can. After this, it’s back to reporting on
guest speakers at the senior center and upgraded street lighting.”

“Oh, honey,” Karin said, as
she reached up to kiss him on the cheek, “maybe you’ll get lucky and in a few
months someone else will get murdered.”

“You mean, like one of the
Ladies of Liberty?”

“If nosy chefs are getting
knocked off, I suppose anything is possible.”

Just before they turned off
their lights, Rob got a short text message from Eddie:
Easterby 7:30
tomorrow morning. Come halfway up the block and then hang back
.

Neither Rob nor Eddie slept well
that night.

Rob got to Easterby before
seven-thirty. He walked into the 7-11 at the corner of Bridgeway and Easterby,
and got a cup of their usual burned and nearly tasteless coffee. As he stood
outside the old wreck of a building, he looked up the block just as a large
black vehicle with four large white letters printed on the side turned and
headed up Easterby.

The SWAT armored vehicle
stopped halfway between where Rob stood and Chris Harding’s rented cottage. No
police personnel got out; the vehicle just waited there. One minute later, two
Sausalito police cars went up the block and pulled up alongside the SWAT
vehicle.

Two residents came out on
their stoops and said in near unison, “What’s going on?” The patrol officers waved
them back inside. As they went in and shut their doors, Eddie’s old unmarked
black Plymouth rode past and stopped in front of Chris Harding’s cottage.

“So far, so good,” Eddie
thought, as he walked up the small rise of the driveway and went around back to
the cottage’s only door. It faced in the opposite direction of the street.
Placing his hand just inside his jacket, Eddie unsnapped his shoulder holster
and removed his gun, but kept it hidden from sight.

Just as Eddie was about to
knock, he heard the top bolt unlock, Eddie took a deep breath, and thought
about, as he so often had, going home later to Sharon. He was stunned to see
Holly standing in the doorway alone, brushing her hair, and greeting him with a
smile.

“Hi, Eddie, what are you
doing here?”

“Is Chris here?”

“Yeah, but sleepyhead is
still snoozing. He doesn’t have to go in until one. Meanwhile, I’ve got to get
moving. I’m sure it’s going to be another busy week for Rob and me.”

Eddie put his index finger up
to his lips and signaled her to come outside. She did so with a look of
complete bewilderment. “Stay right here, and don’t move.”

Eddie slipped inside and
cuffed Chris’s right hand to the side of the old iron rail headboard, and to
his amazement, Harding continued his light rhythmic snoring.

He then went back out, and
Holly said, “What’s up?”

Eddie took Holly by the arm
and walked her around to the front of the driveway, where two SWAT officers
swept her away.

Rob was standing fifty yards
down the road, talking with both of the Sausalito patrol officers. “We’ve got
her from here, fellas. We’ll take her back to her place,” Officer Hansen said.

Holly, looking utterly
bewildered, said to Rob, “What in the hell is going on?”

“They’re arresting Chris
Harding for the murder of Warren Bradley.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Oh, no!
That can’t be! He’s—he’s so sweet, Rob.”

“Come on, Holly,” Rob said,
as he slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I have a few things to tell you.”

Chris woke up a few minutes
later to find Holly gone, and his bed surrounded by a SWAT team, two Sausalito
patrol officers, and Eddie.

“Not good, I guess,” were
Chris’s first words as he pulled on his cuffs.

“No, not good, buddy,” Eddie
responded.

“Where’s Holly?

“Back out looking for Mr.
Right.”