Death by Surprise (Carolyn Hart Classics) (25 page)

“I’m sorry,” Greg interrupted, his voice good-humored but tinged with impatience, “I came here tonight to discuss political positions. Although I can sympathize with Carlisle and his family on his current difficulty, I don’t think this is the proper forum to hear about it.”

“These people,” and I waved my hand toward the audience, “want to know what happened. I’m going to tell them now how Francine died. Francine had arranged for various members of the Carlisle family to come to her apartment. She had demanded fifty thousand dollars from each of them and in return she promised not to publish various unpleasant things she knew about them.

“All of the Carlisles except Edmond and myself made preparations to pay Miss Boutelle. Meanwhile, Mr. Wonderful had arranged for Miss Boutelle herself to obtain from Mr. Kenneth Carlisle’s office the scarf which was used to strangle her.

“At six o’clock Wednesday night, Grace Carlisle brought a shoe box with cash. She paid Miss Boutelle and left. Between then and six-forty-five when Miss Priscilla Carlisle arrived, Francine Boutelle was killed. Priscilla took the Carlisle manuscript and tapes. Then Kenneth arrived. Imagine his shock when he finds Miss Boutelle dead with his scarf around her neck. How would you feel if that happened to you?” I paused and it was utterly quiet.

Greg lounged back behind his lectern, a look of boredom on his face. Harry Nichols watched me intently.

“Kenneth made a mistake. He loosened the scarf, took it with him, and, when it was found in the trunk of his car, it resulted in his arrest.”

I walked from behind the lectern, closer to the edge of the stage.

“Do you see now how it all happened? It was most marvelously set up. It was, from the killer’s viewpoint, a fantastic success. Then yesterday afternoon his telephone rang. Christy Nelson called, saying she knew how close he was to Francine.”

I grimaced for this was the coldest, most vicious act of all.

“That kindness of Miss Nelson’s caused her death. She drove to La Luz Thursday afternoon and met our killer, who had carefully arranged to decoy Megan Carlisle out of her house so that Kenneth would have no alibi. The killer strangled Miss Nelson and dumped her body in La Pluma Park. Then he was sure he was safe.”

Slowly I turned, walked back to the center of the stage, then again faced the audience.

“But he isn’t safe. He stands here tonight, a man who hated the Carlisles, who wanted to make the Carlisles suffer.”

Greg and Harry looked at me sharply.

“The murderer made one big mistake. Greed prompted it. As I mentioned earlier, Grace Carlisle brought fifty thousand dollars in a shoe box. The killer took that shoe box.”

I walked toward him and looked into his face.

“It was clever, Greg, damned clever. But the police have a search warrant now and they are looking into your safety deposit box, your car, your campaign headquarters and when they find the money, you are finished. You didn’t keep the box, of course, but Grace’s fingerprints are on the bills.”

“How did you know?” Farris demanded.

“She died before seven o’clock.”

“So?”

“Don’t you see, the whole evening was arranged, and arranged long before that night, the scarf obtained, the Carlisles lined up like ducks and, finally, Harry Nichols set up to find the body and sic the police on Kenneth. If it had all gone on schedule, Greg would have had two hundred thousand in cash. If the original scenario had worked, Francine would have raked in the money from all of us then been killed just before Harry Nichols arrived.”

“Instead she died before seven. Why?” Farris asked.

I looked at him ruefully. “I hope I don’t go to jail.”

“I’ll be goddamned. The tape recorder.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I planted it. Only three people in the world knew it was going to start recording at seven o’clock, John Solomon, me, and Greg.”

It took a long time to sift it all out, tell Farris where to look for evidence. Then they found Grace’s fifty thousand, stuffed in ski-boots in his closet.

It was long after midnight when Harry and I left the police station.

We drove without talking until we reached my apartment house. Then Harry said abruptly, “So you and Greg were . . . pretty close.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“Is it really?”

I thought of Amanda and Kendra’s mother. “Yes, Harry,” I said steadily, “it really is.”

He parked the car, started to get out.

“You don’t need to walk me to the door.”

“Of course I do.”

I didn’t say anything, just smiled a little in the darkness. Harry would always do it his way.

I wondered what he would think if I told him I had thought, at one time, that he might be Francine’s Mr. Wonderful?

I didn’t plan to tell him that. It’s never good practice to tell everything you know.

CAROLYN HART
is the winner of multiple Agatha, Anthony, and Macavity Awards. She is a cofounder of Sisters in Crime. Her prolific career has included the enduring Death on Demand series as well as the Henrie O and Bailey Ruth books. At Malice Domestic, she received the 2012 Amelia Award and, in 2007, a Lifetime Achievement Award.