A Devious Lot (Antiques & Collectibles Mysteries Book 5) (27 page)

“I’m sorry to hear that happened to you,” Molly said, taking another tiny step toward her. She knew she had to disarm Brenda, but how was she going to do that without getting herself shot? “Did Giles know?”

“Of course, I had to tell him, he’s my heir,” Brenda said. “I’ll never forget that sad day. It was the fifth of November, a beautiful day, sunny and bright. I told him the news, and he took it quite bravely, told me not to worry, and promised he’d find a way out for both of us.”

Molly could see how everything happened after that. Brenda had told Giles the family was going broke in November. In December, he met Dora at the estate sale in Chelsea. Dora proceeded to tell him about Penelope and all her millions, and that’s when he knew exactly what he had to do.

Brenda confirmed it. “When he met Penelope, we thought it was fate coming to the rescue,” she said. “Only one thing stood in our way.”

“Tiffany,” Molly said.

“I told him to break up with her immediately,” Brenda said. “But Giles always did have a soft spot for her. He thought he could ease into it, but waited too long. Penelope found out about Tiffany before he could break things off, and instead of being willing to wait for Giles, she broke up with him.”

“Did you know Dora wasn’t the real Penelope when he brought her to the village?”

“No, I did not,” Brenda said firmly. “I only found out about her today, when Giles’s lawyer informed me.”

“Did Giles help you kill Tiffany?”

Brenda looked shocked. “Of course not. I would never put my son in that position. I recruited Reggie to assist me.”

Molly felt her heart sink. Tessa would be devastated when she heard Reggie was involved. Unless she never did hear about it, because Molly would be dead and wouldn’t be able to tell her.

“Who’s idea was it to poison her with hemlock?”

“That was my idea,” Brenda said, sounding proud of it. “I told him to find one, or plant one, it was his choice. I didn’t know he was going to plant it in Tessa’s garden. I never meant to upset her. She’s such a dear friend.”

“You do realize, if you kill me your friendship will come to an end.”

“Why? She’ll never find out.”

“Yes, she will,” Molly said. “Inspector Boyle will figure it all out sooner or later. But I want to know more about Reggie. Did he know when he planted the hemlock you meant to use it to kill Tiffany?”

“I told him I’d let him know what I wanted him to do with the plant when the time was right. He was happy to take my money and not ask any more questions. I wasn’t even sure I’d have to use it. I was hoping Tiffany would be sensible and go back to London.”

“When did you tell him what your plans were?”

“The morning of the day I met you,” Brenda said. “Penelope called from the shop and told Giles that Tiffany was demanding money. From that point on, everything moved very quickly.”

“So you knew Tiffany was blackmailing Dora. I thought you said you didn’t know who she was.”

“I didn’t know. Giles told me that Tiffany had gone to see Penelope and promised she would leave Marlow Crossing if they paid her two million dollars.”

“Why not let that play out? Let him pay her. Why did you have to kill her?”

“Now you’re sounding very much like my son,” Brenda said. “He wanted to give her some money, but I knew she couldn’t be trusted. I told him she’d keep coming back for more. That’s when I knew I couldn’t risk it. Penelope might change her mind about marrying Giles, and we needed her millions for Channing Hall.” She sighed. “Giles is such a dear boy, but he does like to spend money. He bought a new Jaguar recently, and I need to fix the plumbing, and the roof is in desperate need of repair. It all costs so much, you see.”

“And Reggie?”

“He was here that morning to plant some flowers,” Brenda said. “I told him I would pay him a lot of money if he’d grind up the hemlock leaves and mix them into Tiffany’s tea.” She smiled that wicked smile again. “He tried to appear shocked, but I could see the greed in his eyes. If only he’d been satisfied with what I’d paid him.”

“He came back for more?”

“Oh, yes, quite a lot more, and I couldn’t have that.” Brenda’s eyes lowered to the stain on the floor. “I really couldn’t take the chance he’d tell the police.”

“That stain,” Molly said. “Is it his blood?”

Brenda’s dark eyes met Molly’s. They were empty and without remorse. “I had no idea the human body could bleed so much,” she said. “I must’ve hit an artery.”

Molly knew there was nothing she could say that would change Brenda’s mind. If she didn’t act soon, she would become another one of her victims. “What did you do with his body?” she asked.

“I buried him in the garden,” Brenda said. “It will be lovely in the spring when the tulips come up. No one will ever know. Giles buried him.”

Molly couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Giles helped you kill Reggie?”

“No, no, no,” Brenda said. “He had nothing to do with it. But after I killed him, I realized I needed help burying him. I had to tell Giles what I’d done. The man weighed far too much for me to do it alone.”

Under her jacket, Molly could feel the sweat soaking her shirt. “Brenda, did you tell Giles you killed Tiffany too?”

Brenda licked her lips. “Well, yes, I had to, didn’t I? He was so upset when I told him about Reggie. He demanded to know if I poisoned Tiffany. I thought he’d be pleased, since it was the sensible thing to do, but he took the news a lot harder than I thought he would. My son’s always been a rock for me in times of trouble, but that day he cried like a little boy.”

Molly was glad to hear it. Maybe Mr. Robotic had a heart after all. “Does Dora know you killed Tiffany and Reggie?”

“I have no idea. I certainly never told her. And Giles didn’t seem inclined to speak of it ever again, to anyone,” Brenda said. She looked Molly over slowly from head to foot. “You’re a big girl, aren’t you?” She frowned. “I don’t know how I’m going to manage getting your body to the garden on my own. But I have no choice, with Giles away. I can’t leave you to stew in the greenhouse too long. The smell . . . well, you know, but we won’t talk about that. I’ll make it as quick and painless as I can. I owe that to Tessa, and to you. You might not believe this, but I really don’t want to upset you any more than necessary.”

Molly said calmly, “You’re not upsetting me.”

Brenda looked surprised. “I’m not?” She laughed. “I’m going to kill you and you’re not even the least bit upset?”

“On the contrary,” Molly said. “I’m really pissed off.”

Before Brenda could respond, Molly lunged forward and grabbed her hand, twisting her wrist so the barrel of the gun pointed to the ceiling.

“No!” Brenda screamed as the gun went off.

The sound was deafening. The bullet broke through the glass roof and sharp needles of glass rained down on them. Brenda tried to fight back, but Molly was younger, bigger, and stronger. She held on fiercely and twisted her wrist back until the bones cracked. Brenda’s face instantly paled and she dropped the gun to the floor. Molly kicked it under the table.

With tears streaming down her face, Brenda cradled her broken wrist. She swayed on her feet, on the verge of passing out, but her eyes were still angry. “I’ll kill you!” she yelled, and despite her injury flung herself at Molly.

Molly easily sidestepped her. Brenda turned and tried again.

“Enough already!” Molly shouted, and punched her in the gut. A whoosh of air escaped Brenda’s mouth, her eyes rolled back in her head. She dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

Molly stood over her, breathing hard, fists clenched, ready to go another round. But Brenda didn’t move. She was out cold. Molly brushed glass from her hair and clothes. Her hands were shaking, but she felt oddly calm. She knew she had to call the police, but realized her cell phone was in her purse and her purse was in the trunk of the car. She quickly patted down Brenda’s pockets. No phone. She had to find something to tie her up with, but as she started down the aisle she heard voices coming from outside and suddenly the door swung open.

Chapter 32

“She had a gun,” Molly said. Her adrenaline high was fading fast, and her legs felt wobbly. “I kicked it under the table.” She held on to the table, afraid she might fall over. “She was going to kill me.”

Inspector Boyle instructed a uniformed cop to find the gun and another to tend to Brenda. But his voice sounded muffled. Molly’s ears were ringing from the gunshot. It felt like someone had stuck cotton balls in her ears. Boyle made a phone call, and she heard the word “ambulance.”

When he hung up, she said, “I think I better sit down.”

He took her by the arm and led her outside to the patio behind the house. A table and chairs were damp from the rain, but he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the water off one of the chairs and sat her down on it.

“I think I broke Brenda’s wrist,” she said.

“An ambulance will be here shortly,” he said. “They’ll take a look at her.”

“You have to speak up,” she said. “The gun went off, and it was so loud I’m not hearing clearly. How did you know I was here?”

“Your mother called me,” he said in a louder voice. “She went out for a walk and saw Tessa’s car parked on the side of the road by the trailhead. When you didn’t answer your phone, she tried me. I was worried you might have come here, since I’d told you about the hemlock we’d found and its proximity to Channing Hall. And since I’d just finished interviewing Giles, I knew I better get over here.”

“Why? What happened in the interview?”

“He decided to talk, despite his attorney’s warnings. He told me his mother killed Tiffany.”

“I can’t believe it. He turned his mother in?”

“It’s called self-preservation,” Boyle said. “He doesn’t want to go to prison for murder. It wasn’t a pretty sight, I can tell you that, watching a son turn on his mother. He cried a lot as he told me she bribed Reggie to kill Tiffany, and when Reggie demanded more money to keep quiet, she killed him, too.”

“She told me the same thing,” Molly said. “Did he tell you he helped bury his body?”

Boyle scowled. “I knew he was holding something back,” he said. “Of course, he conveniently left that detail out.”

Molly rubbed her temples. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Tessa about all this,” she said. “She liked Tiffany, and believed in Reggie, and Brenda’s been her friend for twenty-five years. How do I tell her she killed Reggie and was going to kill me? How do I tell her Reggie was in on killing Tiffany, and Tiffany blackmailed Giles and Dora? My God. It’s going to devastate her.”

“It’s a pity Reggie didn’t turn Brenda in when she first approached him,” Boyle said. “He could have been the village hero.”

“Yeah, instead he chose to be the village idiot,” she said.

An ambulance came around the corner of the house. Two emergency responders got out and one of the uniformed cops went to meet them. Boyle’s phone rang and he looked at the screen. “It’s your mother,” he said. “I’ll be in the greenhouse. Wait here, okay?”

“Sure,” Molly said. He handed her the phone, and Molly answered, “Ma, it’s me. I’m okay.”

“Oh, honey, I was so worried about you,” Clara said. “Where are you?”

“I’m at Channing Hall.” She paused to take a breath. “Brenda killed Tiffany and Reggie.”

“Oh, dear God,” Clara said. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Molly said. “I’ll give you all the details when I see you, but for now you might want to break the news to Tessa before she hears about it on the television or someone calls her.”

“I’ll do that, dear,” Clara said. “Matt called. I fibbed and told him you were still at the police station with Boyle. I didn’t want to scare him.”

“Will you do me a favor and call him back? Tell him I’ll call later and tell him everything, but that I’m perfectly fine.” Her mother wasn’t the only one who could fib. In truth, she knew she wasn’t perfectly fine. She felt shaky and nauseous, but they didn’t need to know that. “While you’re at it, could you call Lombardi? He’s not taking my call right now, but I know he’ll talk to you, and he should know what’s happened.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Clara said. “Is there anything else I can do? Do you need a ride home?”

“No doubt Inspector Boyle will want me to go back to the station with him to give a statement,” she said.

“Another one?”

“I know, it’s crazy, two in one day. It’s a record, even for me. I’m sure he can arrange for someone to give me a lift back to the car.”

“All right. Stay in touch. Let me know.”

“I will. And Ma?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Thanks for being such a wonderful mother.”

“Oh.” Clara sounded surprised. “You’re welcome, dear. But may I ask where this is coming from?”

“My close encounter with Brenda,” she said. “I realize how lucky I am to have you as my mother. You raised me to appreciate what I have in life. You taught me that hard work and integrity are worth more than fancy cars and a big mansion in need of a new roof.”

“My practical girl,” Clara said. “Kisses, darling. I’ll talk to you later.”

Boyle came out of the greenhouse and walked over. “Molly, do you want an EMT to look at you?”

“No, thanks, I’m fine,” she said, handing him back his phone.

“You don’t look fine. You’re pale as a ghost.”

“I’ll be okay,” she insisted. “How’s Brenda?”

“They’re checking her vitals, but they think she has a concussion and a broken wrist,” he said. “She’ll live.”

“Good. I want her to live a long life so she can spend it rotting in prison,” Molly said. “She told me she shot Reggie in the greenhouse. You’ll find a bloodstain on the floor by the strawberry bushes in the back. Giles helped bury him in the garden, and I think I know where. There’s a garden room with freshly tilled earth, and it smelled bad.”

“Forensics is on the way,” he said. “Can you stick around to show them?”

“Sure,” she said. “What else have I got to do?”

London, England

December 19, 1922

Malcolm Eversley’s childhood home was an elegant townhouse in the upscale neighborhood of Chelsea. Two weeks before Christmas, it should have been decorated in wreaths with red ribbons and a big fat tree shining in the bay window with colorful lights. But on that gloomy December morning, the house looked cold and empty from the street. Stepping into the foyer, the gray stillness reminded him of how it had felt when his father had died in 1916, and then his brother, Michael, only two years later, in the 1918 flu pandemic. Michael’s passing was particularly difficult. Malcolm thought there would never be any joy or laughter in the house again. But of course, he’d underestimated his mother. Margaret Eversley was a strong, optimistic, cheerful woman. She refused to give in to the demons of death. She carried herself, and Malcolm, through that terrible time with grace and dignity.