The Marsh Madness (23 page)

“Sorry to disturb you when you’re right in the middle of all this.”

“Bad timing,” Doug hollered from some unseen corner.

“I enjoyed your company and talking about the books the other day. I don’t have your new address and I wanted to stay in touch.” I added for the unseen Doug, “I won’t stay long.”

I heard a grunt of approval.

“I’m so glad to see you again. I forgot to ask your name and phone number in the confusion the other day,” she said,
pointing a finger in what I assumed was the direction of Doug. “We don’t have that many friends in this area, and it’s been a tough week.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, with a weak grin.

She blinked when I told her about Shelby Church, a young actress found dead this week.

She pushed back her auburn hair. “That’s so sad. Was she a close friend?”

“More of an acquaintance, but I need to try to find some of her colleagues to let them know about a memorial we’re planning.”

She shook her head, puzzled. “I’m not sure what I can do.”

“If I remember correctly, you go to a lot of live theater and you keep your playbills. Or did they get thrown out the other day?”

“They did not!”

“If I could go through them, I’m sure I could find the names of some people she’d acted with and track them down. That would help a lot.” I felt bad not telling Larraine the whole truth, but I couldn’t risk complicating things any more. There’d be time later if we got out of this in one piece.

She didn’t question it. “They’re upstairs and they’re organized by year. I’ll bring the box with the last couple of years’ playbills.”

Doug thundered past her on the stairs. He was carrying some electronic equipment. He stopped and said, “Some of us are busy getting the job done. I’ll be over at the condo hooking things up.”

She smiled and waved, and I thought I heard her say, “Good, I need a break from the grumbling.” But he was already out the side door with a slam.

Three minutes later she came downstairs with a banker’s box.

I called after her, “I don’t want to keep you from anything. I can certainly do this myself.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” she said, carting the box
to the dining room and thumping it on the table. “Call me if you need another box or have a question. Good luck.”

Under normal circumstances I would have loved going through those playbills. But now the stakes were too high. If I didn’t find what I was looking for, I’d be in a tough spot.

A half hour later, I got my first break. I read each cast list carefully, in case Shelby was calling herself something different. I also scanned for familiar names, but no luck.

Last year’s production of something called
Dirty Monkey Blues
, off-off Broadway, listed Shelby Church among the actors on a cheaply reproduced playbill. I put it aside.

I continued back in time. Larraine had seen a lot of plays. Some sounded better than others.

Shelby turned up again in the cast for something called
Beware the Treehouse
. I chuckled. I hadn’t heard of any of these. I checked dozens more before I found Shelby’s name again. This time the production was called
Morgue: The Musical.

With three playbills, I started to look at the other cast members. Sure enough, two names—Brent Derringer and Tom Kovacs—showed up on
Dirty Monkey
and
Beware the Treehouse.

Only one name was on all three. Ward Lucasky.

Larraine came puffing down the stairs. “Any luck?”

I kept my voice even. “I think so. I’ll try to track them down now.”

Larraine said, “If they’re Equity, you should be able to find them. I can help.”

“Thanks. First, I’ll try to see if these are the people I’m looking for. I’ll search for their images online and then circulate them to some other friends of Shelby’s. I’ll get in touch if I need more help.”

I worried that Larraine might question my very odd story, but she was happy to help. “Too bad Doug took our printer over to the new place. I could have printed them out for you. You’re taking my mind off this move.”

“No problem. I can get it done. Mind if I borrow these playbills?”

*   *   *

I COULD NOT relax at all until I got back to Cherie’s. Cherie was out, apparently on a call. Maybe she did have a real job. Once I was in the house, I went to work to find what I could about Brent Derringer, Tom Kovacs and Ward Lucasky. Google Images paid off quickly.

Brent Derringer surfaced in a number of casual and promo stills. He was big and beefy. Kev leaned over my shoulder and whistled. “Yowza, Jordie. You found Thomas, the butler.”

I tried Tom Kovacs next. “Whoa,” Kev said. “That’s Chadwick, only not the real one. So these guys killed Chadwick and then killed Shelby to keep her quiet, right?”

I pulled up Ward Lucasky’s photos.

Kev glowered. “I don’t know that guy, Jordie. Go back to the others. They’re the guilty ones.”

I pointed at Ward Lucasky. “This is the guy who’s behind it.”

Kev stared at me. “What are we going to do about him?”

“We are going to fix him, but good.”

Kev nodded.

I said, “He’s the reason you’re on the run. He set you up.”

“But I don’t even know him.”

“It’s okay. I know him. Let’s get the printer going.”

*   *   *

THE MEMORY STICK with the images from the security tapes was fingerprint free and wrapped up. In the same print-free package were copies of the playbills with Shelby and Ward Lucasky’s name on them. I’d used highlighter to mark their names and the names of the other two. I’d printed out images of the three actors and added the name to each.

I addressed the package:

OFFICER TYLER DEKKER

Harrison Falls Police Dept.

1 Center Street

Harrison Falls, N.Y.

URGENT

Now, on to the next step.

On our way to that, we stopped the cable van and I took the package to a local delivery company. The dispatcher didn’t give me so much as a look as she took the package. Within the hour that evidence would be at the Harrison Falls Police Station.

*   *   *

CHERIE WAS MAGIC. There was no doubt about that. She also had the security staff of the Country Club and Spa wrapped around her sparkly blue fingernails as she engaged their help to find her adorable mini dachshund, Starlight, who had apparently wandered onto the property. The security staff followed Cherie like puppies themselves after she waved the photo of the alleged dachshund and batted her eyelashes. Braydon looked like he’d been hypnotized. A few of the club members prepared to join in the search.

I was close enough to watch and marvel.

“She needs her meds too,” Cherie said, ramping up the dramatic impetus. “And she’s terribly susceptible to hypothermia. It could kill her in less than an hour.” As much as I wanted to see how long she could keep them distracted, I ducked into the club. I was pretty sure that the cops would have given security my picture, as I was still a suspect—even with my “kidnapping.” But with Cherie at her finest, nobody noticed me slip by and hurry down to the admin offices. Kev had done a decent job of confirming that the admin staff was in the office before we started our little act.

Miranda’s eyes widened as I pushed my way into the
office. Even though I was wearing the plain, dark hoodie and sunglasses, she knew who I was, all right. She grabbed for her phone. I said, “I need to speak to Lisa Hatton. The police are closing in on Chadwick’s killer, and she’ll want to know who it is. There’s good news.”

In her office, Lisa got to her feet. Miranda left her phone and followed.

I said, “Lisa, I am Jordan Bingham. You may have been led to believe that I am responsible for Chadwick’s murder, but I’m innocent. I need you to believe that. I feel so terrible about his death.”

Lisa’s face crumpled. “What do you want? Everyone’s looking for you.”

“That’s just a ploy to lure the real killer. I’m here, you’ll notice, walking around. Free as a bird.”

“How did you get past security?”

I smiled reassuringly. “It’s all going to be okay. I’ve just heard from my boyfriend, who is a cop in Harrison Falls, that they will be bringing a new forensics team tomorrow to go over the upstairs rooms at Summerlea again. They’re looking for DNA in one of the bedrooms. There’s something else. He wouldn’t say what, but it was found on the scene and they believe it will link to the real murderer.”

Lisa’s forehead creased. “But they must have checked everything already.”

“This is a pretty small place. We don’t have the top teams here, but this new detective Castellano—did you meet her?”

Lisa nodded.

Miranda stared.

I said, “Lieutenant Castellano is very thorough. She called in a crack forensic team. She’ll get this guy. Trust me.”

Lisa sank back into her chair. “I hope they do.”

Miranda gripped her desk. Her knuckles were white. “This guy?”

“Yes. Apparently there’s a suspect they’ve been looking at for fraud and some other financial crimes, and his DNA
showed up on stolen items that were planted on innocent people and also at the site where they found Shelby Church’s body. The cops have reason to think they’ll be able to wrap things up after they do this analysis.”

In a tight voice, Miranda said, “What did they say about the suspect?”

“He didn’t tell me much. He’s not supposed to be in touch, but he knew I’d be happy. That’s it, Lisa. I just wanted to let you know. I know how awful this has been for you.”

I left her sitting there staring. Of course, I’d been weird, but, as long as the plan worked.

As I headed through the door, Miranda was already back at her desk, hand on the phone. Looking good.

I hurried out of the building and over to the vehicle. At the sign, Kev burst from car and went racing toward Cherie and the search party with the happy news that little Starlight had been found and was ready to be picked up. I could see him gesture in the direction of Starlight’s unseen rescuers.

All was right with the world.

S
UMMERLEA WAS DARK.

Not only dark, but quite dangerous. I knew how perilous it was going to be and gave a shiver as I thought of Chadwick Kauffman’s tragic end at the top of the wide mahogany stairs.
Never mind,
I told myself.
We’re here because we set this up.
There was definitely more than one way to manage a bit of theater. We entered the stage from the back door, and only after we’d hoofed it through the wooded ravine on the far side of the property. The center stage was intended to be empty for the most important player. In this case, one who thought he was in a one-man show. And the one who was probably keeping an eye on the front entrance, in case it was a trap.

I knew our cast was larger. One person had gone ahead, and two more would be creeping after me. We had to assume that we might be observed if we arrived from the front or used flashlights in our approach from the back. I imagined muffled curses as they stumbled over some unexpected rocks and picked their way up the steep, wooded bank. I always
worry when Kev’s involved. After the rain, last night’s sky had been bright and clear with sparkling constellations and a crisp moon. Even though the moon was full tonight, the sky was murky and overcast. The few breaks in the cloud cover were welcome, though, and possibly kept some of us from plunging into the ravine. We’d wanted that overcast sky as we ran, one at a time, bending low so we wouldn’t be spotted, even though our clothes were dark and we wore balaclavas.

I wished I’d thought ahead about how to manage the squeak of some of the old doors in Summerlea as I tiptoed into the back of the building. Already, after a few days, you could feel the property decline. The dark and the chill air combined with Chadwick’s death all played a part in the desolate mood. I left the door slightly ajar so that the others could enter. When the alarm didn’t sound, I knew that Cherie had been successful in the first of her tasks. The alarm system would be rearmed as soon as we were in.

As long as they could keep it quiet. When he arrived it was essential for our star player to believe he was alone and unobserved. He needed to be convinced that he had a job to do and that time was not on his side.

If the scene at the Country Club and Spa had played out properly, he would indeed believe that. If it hadn’t, I was going to be in more trouble than I’d ever been in before.

“Ouch.” Someone didn’t catch themselves in time, and the sound escaped. Behind me I heard a sharp gasp. Not Kev, though. I’d suspected it would be a mistake to bring Kev along and therefore he had a task of his own. Outside and alone, but essential.

I figured I knew who the gasper was, but this wasn’t the time to lay blame on one’s relatives. No one wore scent. We wore soft soles that wouldn’t squish. Any light bits on the soles had been blackened with marker. It had been essential to do this right. No one had a device that would beep, emit light or otherwise give us away. With Kev, there would have always been that risk.

Our challenge was the number of possible exits. Summerlea was awash in French doors, sliding partitions, cleverly hidden staircases for servants, closets and so much more. I needed my watchers to make sure our key player didn’t vanish into the night if he spotted us. We needed to have every eventuality covered. Apparently, we also should have been able to see in the dark. Or at least count steps accurately.

Seconds later, we were all feeling our way along walls, counting steps and in some cases praying. There was no way to know if everyone was in the right place. All we had to do was wait.

When it’s important to keep quiet and not twitch, itch, squirm, moan, yawn or otherwise betray your presence, your body will do its best to blow your cover. The damp sent chills through my spine. I felt a sneeze coming on. I was pretty sure the others were fighting burps, flatulence and sudden spasms. Life’s like that.

What felt like a week later, our play began. Well, it was probably half an hour.

The front door rattled. We heard what sounded like a lock turning. The door squeaked a bit too. Good, if anyone had dozed off, that should have jolted them awake.

The soft pad of footsteps was next, getting closer. My heart was racing. If our plan was successful, we’d be face-to-face with a murderer.

As the footsteps stopped by the security console and someone presumably keyed in the secret code, I switched on the grand chandelier.

The hallway flooded with light. Frozen in front of us, was our target. “Jackpot,” as the uncles would say.

“Hello, Lucas,” I said. “Or should I say Ward Lucasky?”

His jaw dropped. That gave me a lot of satisfaction, but I knew better than to let down my guard. The glow from the chandelier highlighted the face that could break a heart and empty a bank account before you could blink. A handsome and dangerous face.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I added jauntily. I leaned against the mahogany paneled wall. I was hoping to convey an air of insouciance, but really my legs were about to buckle. Lucas could always have that effect on me. Okay, maybe some of it was because he had a gun in his hand. Guns and legs are a bad combo.

He found his voice. “I hear the police are about to catch up with you.”

“I have the best lawyer anywhere,” I gloated. “Too bad he’s mine, because you’re going to need someone exceptional when they get through charging you.”

He snorted. “Charging me with what?”

“Where to start?”

“Why not start with what are you doing here?”

“Nice one. I like the arrogant touch, as if you owned the place. The real question is what are
you
doing here?”

“I followed you. You had no business coming to Summerlea. I wanted to warn you off. There was a time when we were very fond of each other. I would hate to see you rot in prison.”

“Nice attempt at a save,” I shot back. “But I will now be able to inform the police that you are here, as I told them you would be.” I lifted my iPhone and started to key in 911.

He shook his head. With the slightest of sneers, he said, “I don’t think so. Unless you want me to shoot you.”

I let the hand with the phone drop to my side, dramatically.

“It’s a shame,” he said, “really. You’re beautiful but you’re a real pain in the—”

“Lucas, I don’t believe you would really shoot me.”

“I’m afraid I have to. You know too much, and, as you said, you’ll lead the cops to me. I can’t have that.”

I said with a calm I did not feel, “You brought it on yourself. Why did you drag me into this in the first place? What was the purpose of the whole elaborate setup with the luncheon and the books and all that?”

“Well, it
was
April Fool’s Day, and you know I love a good joke.”

“Right. You love any joke at someone else’s expense.”

“What’s the point of a practical joke if it’s not at someone else’s expense? Sometimes you’re a bit dim, Jordan.”

“No doubt, but why pick on me?”

“You really shouldn’t have tried to turn me in after that misunderstanding about your bank account.”

“You mean when you cleaned out my savings?”

“You know what happened when the college found out? That was it for me. Out the door. You’ve ruined my career. You put an end to my education. The cops spoke to my parents. No one in my family will speak to me now. Are you happy? You really twisted the knife. You did everything you could to ruin my life. I’m going to make absolutely sure you never try anything like that again.”

I stood there, openmouthed and astonished. How could he twist my actions that way? How could he ignore his role in what happened? How was I the bad guy?

I sputtered, “But you were the one who stole from me!”

“We were in a relationship. What happened to sharing?”

“All the sharing was one-way. And what about my credit cards? You maxed them out. My credit rating ended up in the toilet.”

He shrugged. That was not the response I wanted. I added, “That was just nasty and . . . unsporting.”

“Oh, grow up. These things happen.”

“I was in love with you.”

The beautiful lips smiled. Not a nice smile. “Whatever. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours. Don’t you remember saying that?”

“It doesn’t sound like me.” In fact, it didn’t sound like anything a Kelly would say except for the “what’s yours is mine” part. “I never told you to help yourself to the money I needed for grad school. You forged my signature. That was a crime.”

“Well, you had your bit of revenge, didn’t you?”

“Sort of. But it was two years ago this month, and you
haven’t been prosecuted. There’s been more than enough time to move on.” I’d dropped the charges at my uncles’ urging. No point in drawing any attention to our family, they’d said. A good defense lawyer could turn up the odd embarrassment. At the time I’d wondered if some of my educational savings might have had suspect origins. Not that it mattered, because Lucas had made sure they vanished into his pocket.

I glared at him as he said, “There would never be enough time for me to forget what you did to me. And now I will get my revenge. No one messes with Lucas Warden.”

It was time to pick up the pace if the unfolding drama was to have its denouement and if our final big scene was not to involve me in a bleeding heap on the floor.

“Fine. I regret reporting it to the police in the first place. I cared about you. I guess I still do.”

He actually sniffed. What an ego.

I piled it on. “But why was it necessary to involve Vera Van Alst and Uncle Kev in your scheme? You could have pulled the stunt with just me. I could have carried Vera’s money.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” he chuckled.

“I don’t get it,” I said.

He grinned. “It wasn’t enough to get the money. I wanted your life turned upside down. Like mine was. This was the perfect setup. Chadwick would discover the books missing. Then the police would be called. There would be plenty of evidence that you were at Summerlea. The police would come calling. You would spin this ridiculous story of an invitation for Vera, you, the lowly researcher, and your uncle with the criminal record. Chadwick would recover his property from Vera Van Alst. She would hold you responsible for the loss of her ten thousand dollars. Being the witch she is, you’d lose your job. Your uncle would be immediately under suspicion for theft.”

“That explains the loot from Summerlea you tucked behind the bush by the driveway at Van Alst House. I guess
you wanted to make sure that Uncle Kev was charged no matter what.”

“It’s your own fault. You never should have told me all your family secrets and that you were the first one to go straight.”

“Explains a lot.” I wondered for a second if it explained why I’d fallen for this monster.

He laughed. “Your new life, which, face it, is not that great, living in an attic and taking orders from that ratty old harridan—”

“I love what I do.”

“And all that would be gone. And you asked for it, didn’t you?”

I hadn’t asked for anything, but I needed to keep playing along. “What made you think of me, Lucas, after all this time?”

“I saw your name in the local paper when Shelby dragged me to this area to meet her stupid parents. There you were. Little Miss Hero. Solved a murder, saved her boss. Full of herself. It gave me a great idea for making you pay.”

“I’m beginning to understand. And that bouquet of dead roses? Was that just a finger in my eye?” I wondered how much of his connection to Harrison Falls was a coincidence. He’d obviously burned with anger at what he saw as my betrayal. Had he picked Shelby because of that?

“Got to you, did they? That was the idea.”

“I see you went to quite a bit of trouble to make it creepy. What happened to you, Lucas? What changed you from a charming scoundrel to a murderer?”

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“That’s right. I did say ‘murderer.’ Did Chadwick show up unexpectedly?”

His nostrils flared.

I needed him to talk, not nod, shrug, smirk or flare his nostrils. “Did Miranda let you down? She had it bad for you, didn’t she?”

He smirked.

“She had access to Chadwick’s keys. It was easy for her to get a copy made. She could find out the code. Of course, she knew when he’d be away.”

“Stupid girl. She told me he’d gone to Manhattan for a meeting. She claimed the house was empty.”

“But she lied. Why did she do that? Had she found out about Shelby? Did she realize you were just using her?”

“Yes, she lied, and it’s on her that he died.”

“And Chadwick died because he found you on his property?”

His mouth twisted.

“Oh,” I said, “let me think how that could have happened. You had to be there, of course, watching your production. You wouldn’t have been able to resist being at Summerlea during the luncheon. Must have been fun. Did Brent Derringer and Tom Kovacs—your old acting buddies—depart the minute their parts were played? Did you pay them? Are they a couple of scam artists too? Or did you have something on them?”

“You always did think you were smarter than everyone.”

I kept talking. “When they took off, did that leave you with the new woman in your life here in this grand house to celebrate your windfall? Were you ‘celebrating’ with Shelby in one of those luxurious bedrooms upstairs?”