The Marsh Madness (24 page)

He actually blinked. “How did you know that?”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out. Chadwick must have been attacked upstairs. Not many people would be strong enough to have carried his body up that staircase. Therefore you must have been upstairs first to attack him. If he’d felt he needed help, he’d have picked up the phone and called the police.”

“He came charging like a lunatic, waving that statue at me.”

“Oh really? Chadwick never waved that statue. His prints would have been on it if he had, and there was only one set of prints: Uncle Kev’s. And we both know that Kev didn’t kill Chadwick. You did.”

“Clever girl.”

“That’s right. Thomas—or should I say Tom Kovacs—spotted Kev fondling it and told you before you left. My guess is that, for some reason, you took that statue, wearing gloves, of course. Maybe you were thinking of planting that somewhere too. Then what happened? Did Chadwick show up?”

“I liked that little statue. I thought I’d keep it as a souvenir of our afternoon. But then, that old fool went for me. I was just defending myself.”

“Oh please. Self-defense? But Chadwick was killed while you were committing a felony, so naturally that won’t be worth anything to you during your trial. Did he find things a bit off and go looking to see if someone was in the house?”

“I won’t be on trial, and I’m starting to get bored,” Lucas said with a yawn.

You’re going to keep talking
, I thought.

“So what happened? Did Shelby scream? Did poor Chadwick think he was saving a woman from an attack? No one’s going to buy that.”

“I don’t know what he thought, but he came at me.”

“So let’s see, a forty-three-year-old man, pudgy and out of shape, not used to violence, rushes up the stairs to confront an intruder, barges into the bedroom and attacks you.”

“Yeah, that was a bad break for him. I did what I had to.”

“Except you’d left those gloves on—or put them on again—and hit him on the back of the head. Was he running away at that point? You made sure there weren’t any of your fingerprints, because you were known to the police as a result of my complaint and maybe others. And then, once you’d killed Chadwick, you hurled him down the stairs.”

“The situation got away from me—”

“And of course, Chadwick recognized Shelby when he discovered her upstairs in the bedroom. She must have freaked.”

“She was a silly, nervous thing, not nearly as intelligent as she looked. She started screaming when she saw him. How stupid was that? She should have just laughed it off,
explained and apologized for our romantic interlude in his ‘country house.’”

I wasn’t sure that Chadwick or anyone would have bought that. Not with keys and codes involved. “But silly and nervous or not, she was the person who brought you into contact with Summerlea. She was your entrée into that kind of society. Lots of wealthy young women to plunder, trust accounts to play with once Shelby was stripped clean. And you managed that, didn’t you? Her car was being repossessed. She was being hounded for debts that you’d actually incurred.”

He practically spat. “Spoiled brats. You think they deserve their privilege, these rich bitches? Who cares what happens to them?”

“I’m guessing she wanted out even before Chadwick was killed. She was jumpy and nervous during the whole luncheon scene. But I’m sure you had a hold over her. Did she steal from her parents? Was that what you were holding over her head? Then with Chadwick’s murder, she started to fall apart. She became hysterical when I saw her at the gallery. Now she was in too deep to walk away. Did you decide then to get rid of her?”

He shrugged. “It’s all water under the bridge now. But you have to admit, it’s worked out according to plan in the end.”

“You mean with me, Vera and Kev accused of murder rather than breaking, entering and theft?”

“Exactly.”

“Thank you for calling the police with those tips. That brought us a lot of grief. And then planting stuff on my uncle Mick beforehand. He didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“That was the idea. I thought it was a laugh. And it got to you, didn’t it? As I said, you brought it on yourself.”

The best plan was to play to his massive, twisted ego and give the psychopath in front of me a few ego strokes. “I see you’ve been very clever with all this. I have to admire your entire plan. It was brilliant. You get even, I get blamed. My friends and family get damaged.”

“You don’t have to tell me it was brilliant. I thought it up.”

“Tell you what, Lucas. Because of what we used to have together and because I can’t help but admire your ingenuity with this whole production, I’ll just head out and that’s the last any of us will hear of this. Not a word from me.”

“Get real. Do you think I’m falling for that? With the police crawling all over the county looking for you? You’d blab everything you know about me before the door shuts behind you.”

“But that’s not going to happen. You have some stuff on my family, and that’s enough for me to keep my mouth closed.”

“Right. It’s not going to happen because you are going to be dead.”

I injected a little shake into my voice. “Come on, Lucas. We were in love once.”

“Don’t think so.”

“That would make three people you’ll have killed, Lucas. Is it getting easier?”

I heard a small rustle in the darkness. I only prayed he hadn’t heard it too. Apparently not. He was too focused on me. And not in a good way.

“You know what? It is getting easier. And you don’t know the half of it.”

A cold shiver ran over my body.

Lucas kept talking. “And don’t bother trying to trick me. The conversation’s over. It doesn’t matter what you say. You’re too much of a risk to keep around. And I have so many reasons for my revenge.”

“You don’t mean that!” I was hoping against hope that everything was in place as it should have been.

“I do. But feel free to beg. I think I’m entitled to that after all the trouble that you brought me.”

“Trouble that I—? Wait a minute. Please think about this. You don’t want to hurt me. I could even help you. And if they find another body here, it’s just a matter of time before someone breaks down and fingers you.”

“They won’t be finding another body here. And they’ll never find your body where you’re going.”

“What are you talking about? They found Shelby where you dumped her corpse.”

“That was different. I didn’t plan that. I had to do what I had to do to shut her up. But at least I was able to point the finger at you.”

“You phoned in another police tip, I suppose?”

He smirked again. “You really shouldn’t have chased her out of that gallery and then followed us. You and your pet librarian were the obvious suspects. You make it too easy for me. You forgot that I’d seen you in every imaginable wig when you were onstage. I know the way you move, the way you walk. You couldn’t fool me with that getup.”

Time to manipulate his vanity. It was the only tool I had left. “You’re a despicable human being, a psychopath. You’ve caused a lot of misery to many people. You’ve murdered two, and you’ve just threatened to murder me. Furthermore, you’re not as good-looking as you used to be. You’re getting a little jowly. Put on a bit of weight. I see that your hairline is receding. You won’t be able to play the leading man for much longer the way you’re going. But the other inmates may still find you attractive in prison when you get there.”

I needed him off balance, emotional. I guess I succeeded. “But I’m not going to prison, Jordan.” This time he raised the gun.

I shouted “NOW!” and dove to the side, rolling toward the open mahogany pocket doors that led to the parlor. When I stuck my head out a minute later, Uncle Kev had Lucas in a headlock. Uncle Lucky was sitting on his back. Soon, they moved out of view, and Officer Tyler Dekker fastened handcuffs on Lucas while doing a great job of reading him his rights. Quite a multitasker, our Smiley.

Lucas wasn’t planning to go without a fight. He kicked out hard at Smiley’s knee and connected hard. Smiley gave a grunt of pain but got those handcuffs on. Lucas tried to
arch his back without success. Uncle Lucky is no lightweight. I knew I could count on him.

Lucas swore and bellowed, “I’ll kill you! You’re dead, every one of you.”

“Sheesh,” said Smiley, standing and rubbing his knee. “Assaulting an officer of the law? And then a death threat? Make my day.”

“Hey,” I said, with a wobble in my voice. “And threatening me isn’t bad enough?”

“With all due respect,” he shouted over Lucas’s raving, “this was a crazy idea for you to meet a killer here, Miss Bingham. It was just lucky for you that I got an anonymous call on my cell phone while I was off duty not too far away.”

“But who could have called you? No one else knew I was coming here.” Unlike Smiley, I had been very good on the stage.

He shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll trace the call.”

They wouldn’t, because the burner Kev used would have already been tossed into the lake. Even if they brought it to the surface, it wouldn’t tell them a thing.

“A tip? And what did the tip say?”

“The caller told me if I came in through the back door, I’d find Chadwick’s killer and maybe save another life. From the look of things, I got here just in time.”

Kev was flushed with pride. He’d managed to make that prearranged call to Tyler without screwing up. Of course, Kev hadn’t been able to resist coming into the house instead of remaining outside as agreed. Good thing that Tyler Dekker had been in on the sting. I was glad he wasn’t the kind of guy who let his mail pile up and he’d opened the envelope I’d sent him. And he’d trusted me.

I hoped Smiley’s career in the police took off, because he sure wouldn’t make it as an actor. But he didn’t need to. While Smiley called for backup, I skipped around the corner and found Cherie with a huge candy-pink grin splitting her face.

“Did you get everything?” I said.

“I got it all right. And it’s beautiful. Even better than beautiful. You know, I think a person could enjoy doing this for a living. I edited out the bit that shows Kev and Lucky. No point in complicating things. And even if the cops might notice the video’s been edited, it’s not likely they’ll be able to get it back.”

“Good thinking. You sure have the gift for taping evidence. I’m not sure how many opportunities there will be for business, but my money’s on you,” I said. She was truly a perfect fit for my family. Perhaps we should make her an honorary Kelly.

As the adrenaline in my system faded, I wanted the night to be over and Lucas Warden to be safely behind bars. I needed to know he wouldn’t outwit the police, because he was capable of it. I wanted to be free to go home and to tell Vera and the signora that we were no longer suspects in a murder case. I wanted to tell Mick he didn’t have to worry anymore about being charged with possession of stolen goods and Lance that his job and freedom wouldn’t be threatened.

But of course, there were hours of interviews to get through first. It was just as well that Uncle Lucky, Kev and Cherie were able to melt like ice cubes into the dark night. They wouldn’t have been at their best under those circumstances. Good thing they’d all worn gloves too.

For once I was happy to hear sirens in the driveway.

W
HEN THE DUST settles, there’s no place like home. Not that Van Alst House had been my home for long or would be home forever, but I was back again, and it sure felt like home to me. I had barely stopped myself from kissing the floor when I finally returned at two thirty in the morning after our great adventure.

Vera met me at the back door, in her tartan dressing gown. If it wasn’t totally out of character, I might have thought she’d been nervously hanging around for my arrival. I couldn’t help noticing that she’d brought a book to read while she waited for me.

Walter scampered merrily to me.

“Your police officer friend dropped him off earlier today. He said you’d be missing him.”

“Hmm. Well, the big news tonight is that they’ve got the person who killed Chadwick, and Shelby Church. In case you don’t know, Shelby was the woman pretending to be Lisa Troy. We have good recorded evidence—audio and video—
against him. It adds up to a confession, really. And more to the point, we are all off the hook.”

“About time,” Vera sniffed.

“Agreed. I’ll fill you in with the details in the morning if that’s okay.” I wasn’t looking forward to telling Vera that my former boyfriend was the reason we’d all been dragged through this hellish week. More to the point, that relationship was why Vera had been of interest to the police. My head would be clearer in the morning. Vera was always in a bad mood at breakfast, and maybe I would think of a decent spin to put on it.

Vera said, “Mr. Kelly gave us quite a play-by-play before he left to visit a friend. He’s staying over at the friend’s place tonight.”

“Oh, is he?” And what had he told Vera? Accuracy isn’t Kev’s best thing. He probably came out as a hero.

“Yes. You were lucky to have him with you when you did.”

“Indeed,” I said and left it at that.

All the time we were talking, the signora was beckoning me to the dining room. I was dead beat after the days we’d had and the relief of Lucas’s capture. My black clothes were muddy from the ravine. My hair was a mess from the balaclava. And I was pretty fried from the encounter with Lucas and his gun.

“Stop fussing, Fiammetta. Let her take a breath. We are not going to the dining room. Have a bath, Miss Bingham,” Vera said. “Relax. Fiammetta will bring your meal to your room. This once we can dispense with protocol and, please, don’t feel you must eat anything.”

The signora crossed herself.

Vera added, “But I should warn you: Fiammetta will not rest until you do.”

“Thank you, Vera.” I was proud that I didn’t make a single remark about the fact it was three in the morning. Not
a time to eat, you might think, but then you might not have quite the same delivery service.

She added, “I don’t think it will be necessary for you to arrive for breakfast at eight. Whenever you’re ready will be fine.”

I managed not to fall over at that. But it was good. I decided that Uncle Kev hadn’t filled Vera in on the particulars of my connection to the killer. Just as well. I’d have to own up soon enough, once I’d had some sleep. At that moment, all I could do was grin like a fool.

“And Miss Bingham.”

“Yes, Vera?”

“You know, I really do believe that this all calls for a party. Fiammetta has enough to feed the multitudes between one freezer and the other.”

Maybe I was already dreaming.

*   *   *

THE EVENING MOOD was festive, in the way that the dropping of criminal charges and getting a murderer locked up can lift the spirits. I’d had a happy week to recover, catching up on my sleep with Walter, Good Cat and—although that may have been a dream—even Bad Cat.

Although we usually dine at eight (and not one minute later, Miss Bingham), tonight we were in a formal mood. Our dinner would take place at nine, and we were enjoying what Vera referred to as preprandial libation in the rarely used parlor next to the dining room. The evening light added a glow to the proceedings, as did the blaze in the fireplace. Tonight Vera had pulled out all the stops. As a rule, on a cool April evening, we’d be bundled up in Van Alst House, but you’d never have known it on this occasion.

Vera seemed marginally less grumpy than usual, which is her way of showing euphoria. It seemed that the executor of the estate had agreed to let Vera have the Marsh books once they were no longer required as evidence. The executor felt this
would be an appropriate expression of gratitude for our part in catching Chadwick’s killer and his accomplices. Vera had on the blue silk blouse I had purchased for her to celebrate an earlier narrow escape. I think she was wearing it to send a message to me. The message was received with pleasure. The fact our troubles had been caused by a person from my past was not a problem.

“Let us not forget Muriel Delgado, Miss Bingham,” she had said by way of absolution.

I was not likely to forget our nemesis from last fall.

Kev was buzzing about like a demented wasp. He’d just finished showing Cherie every nook and cranny of the house. I was pretty sure she already knew the place, but why rain on his parade? I hoped she’d enjoyed the dumbwaiter and the spiders in the attics.

The signora pirouetted into and out of the parlor, beaming and apparently speaking in tongues. I peered through the crack in the oak pocket doors that separated us from the dining room. Every time she returned that way, she fiddled with the place settings and adjusted the crystal glasses to the point where I wondered if she’d been binge-watching
Downton Abbey
.

As for the guests, we were all standing somewhat stiffly, sharing cocktails that Cherie had prepared. She’d found some interesting recipes. I was pretty sure that the “grappa” that was billed as an ingredient in my favorite of the cocktails—the one called I Have No Fear of Death
—
was actually a product of Uncle Kev’s dismantled still. A more timid person might refuse a moonshine cocktail with a name like that, but I’d been through the wars and felt some residual bravery.

Everyone in the room seemed to believe that they were personally responsible for solving the mystery that had led to Chadwick Kauffman’s murder.

Drea Castellano wore a simple scarlet silk shift dress. Under normal conditions, she would already have hypothermia, but tonight, near the fireplace, it was perfect. She looked so good that I feared Uncle Mick would have a coronary. His
face was the color of that dress. His gold chains glinted at her from the luxurious bed of ginger chest hair that all the Kelly men are so proud of. He gazed up at her with something like awe. She tilted her head and watched him much as a scientist might watch a lab rat, with silent but worrisome interest.

I wasn’t thrilled that Vera had decided to include Castellano and Stoddard in our grand celebration dinner. They were well aware of my family connections, and who knew what they’d try to ferret out about the Kelly clan while they were with us. Another worry was what might turn up about Cherie. Cherie was a treasure, practically my favorite person in the world lately. I would have hated to see this party bring her trouble. Never mind. I shook my head. We were all adults, it was a great night and we had plenty to be happy about.

Meanwhile, Uncle Mick had clamped his hairy Kelly paw onto Castellano’s toned arm. I tried to telegraph a warning to him. She was probably capable of flipping him across the room where he’d crack his hard Kelly head on the marble fireplace surround and that would be the end of him. But she seemed to be having a good time. I only hoped Uncle Mick wasn’t so besotted that he dropped hints as to the nature of his current enterprise, whatever it was. However, on balance, his fascination with her was a good thing, as it took the pressure off me and my relationship with Smiley.

Speaking of Smiley, he was still working on getting that smile back after his first glug of the moonshine cocktail. Maybe he did have a fear of death. Oh well. I was sure he’d get his grin and his voice back eventually.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” was my only comment.

Vera might have gotten dressed up and even clipped on one of her Art Deco diamond brooches, but I noticed she was still working on a crossword in the corner. Uncle Lucky was standing next to her, and that would have suited both of them just fine. I shook my head at Uncle Lucky just in case he’d thought the clasp on that brooch was a bit loose.

Near the bow window, Lance had struck up a conversation
with Cherie. They had a certain theatricality in common, and I shouldn’t have been surprised. Both were talking with their hands and sharing. I did my best not to be jealous. After all, what would I do without either one of them?

Kev was busy attempting to refill drinks. Most of us managed to cover our glass with our palms before he descended with the cocktail pitcher. Stoddard was the exception. With one hand he held his cocktail, and with the other Stoddard managed to snag the
prosciutto crudo
canapés that the signora was currently circulating with. He also eyed our special guest, Larraine Gorman, who was looking glamorous with her wild and wavy auburn hair and a deep-purple dress with a low neck. Without her playbills, we never would have found Lucas and his accomplices. Larraine didn’t seem to notice, but Doug, suddenly possessive, gave the detective a dirty look.

Our last guest to arrive was Sammy Vincovic, who blew into the room like a tropical storm. Even before dinner, his suit was straining at the seams. He seemed to be in great spirits, considering the amount of money he might have made from a trial.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, generously. “Things have a way of workin’ out. You’re looking good, by the way.”

“Thank you,” I said with pleasure. I was wearing my raspberry dress again.

Sammy glanced down to see that Walter and both the Siamese were advancing toward him. Good Cat sidled up and managed a silky caress against one leg. Bad Cat headed for the other.

I gasped. “Look out!” But it appeared that Sammy was invincible, a nice trait in defense counsel.

By the time we all sat down at the long Sheraton table, set with gleaming silver and glittering crystal, more than one truce seemed to have been struck. I was seated between Smiley and Sammy. Everyone watched with interest as Uncle Kev poured the wine. Vera had produced several bottles that had been aging expensively in the Van Alst wine cellar since her father placed them there, back in the day.

Sammy broke the silence that settled over our odd little group. He nodded at Castellano and Stoddard. “So, Detectives, I understand you’ve both received commendations for your work on the Chadwick Kauffman case.”

Castellano nodded gravely, although she did narrow her eyes a bit. Probably wondering what Sammy was up to. Stoddard just showed most of his teeth in a grin. I attributed much of that grin to the moonshine cocktail.

Castellano added, “As did Officer Dekker.”

Vera said, “Good for Officer Dekker. Perhaps he’ll become Detective Dekker after this.”

Stoddard merely slouched a bit more. You could tell he didn’t care for that idea.

Castellano said after an embarrassingly long minute, “Unfortunately, we have no openings for detectives for the foreseeable future.

Naturally, the telltale pink blush transformed Smiley’s face.

Sammy helped deflect our attention by leaning back in his seat and saying, “So everything’s cleared up now?”

Castellano said, “Pretty much. We’ve turned up the delivery driver who saw Miss Van Alst, Kevin Kelly and Jordan Bingham leave Summerlea. He confirms that there were still people in the house after you left.”

I blurted, “I told you he was real. But after Lucas admitted on tape what he’d done, why do you need to keep checking with witnesses?”

Stoddard said, “We have to dot every i and cross every t. We even found the caterer who delivered the food for the luncheon, and we can connect her to Shelby Church, not that we can charge the caterer with anything. She appears to be above board.”

I knew that it was Smiley who’d done that footwork, even though there was no way he’d be breaking in as a detective.

Castellano gave Stoddard a poisonous look. “More important, Miranda Schneider broke down under questioning and
admitted her roles in the crimes, including planting stolen goods in Michael Kelly’s Fine Antiques.”

“You had evidence of that.”

“Everything matters. Lawyers can make everything look different in court. We needed to nail down her testimony. Lucas Warden had dumped her once he got what he wanted. After Chadwick Kauffman died, he convinced her that she’d been an accessory to murder for providing the key and the security code. She was trapped, but now she’ll testify against him in return for a deal. She is terrified.”

“Rightly so,” said Lance.

I wondered about Miranda. How different were we? We’d both been deceived by a psychopath. I was the lucky one. He only got my money and he gave me a few scary days. He hadn’t involved me in someone else’s murder.

Vera raised her crystal wineglass. “To our detectives, for a job well done.”

Castellano and Stoddard were a bit more respectful when it came to Vera. After all, they had been involved in a concerted attempt to prove that she’d been complicit in Chadwick’s death, based on phony tips from a killer. That sort of thing can mess with a career. I believed that what are known as the “higher-ups” may have whispered in their ears about making nice. Now, apparently, all was forgiven, and this meeting of the mutual admiration society was proof.