Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 01 - Murder by the Old Maine Stream (31 page)

Click. Click. Click.

Percy’s arm went around her shoulder, all lovey-dovey. Picture perfect. I couldn’t have posed it better myself.

Click and double click.

She shoved him away.

Case closed.

Piece … of … effin’ … cake!

THIRTY

Nick burst into the emergency room and shoved my privacy curtain aside while the nurse was wrapping my foot in an ace bandage. No sense of decorum. Gee, I was glad to see him. If I could have, I would have hopped off the Gurney and thrown myself into his arms. I felt like crying again. But I showed some control.

“Nora. What happened to your foot? Is it broken?” His gaze darted from ace-wrapped ankle to my splinted finger. “Oh, God. Your finger?”

“Yes,” I sniffed as the doctor breezed back in. “Broken. In battle.”

The doctor was a short man with huge glasses and a white flowing medical coat. “Very much so,” he told Nick. “Compound fracture. Came right through the skin. Bad break, very painful. But this is a brave lady. You can be proud of her.” His brows shot up in question. “You’re her husband, right?”

“No. A good friend.” Nick smiled at me. “A very good friend.”

I felt warm inside.

The doctor nodded. “Police told me she subdued two drug dealers out back of the bed and breakfast.”

The doctor yanked the blue striped privacy curtain open the rest of the way, and handed me a prescription for painkillers and an antibiotic. “You take better care of this woman. Hear?”

“I will,” Nick promised, ignoring my smirk as I stuffed the prescriptions in my pocket. Looking at me, he repeated softly, “I will.”

“Please call Ida for me. Let her know I’m all right. I haven’t called her all day, and I know she’s worried about me. Heck, I was worried about me.”

“I’ll call outside. Be right back,” he said as the nurse secured the bandage.

When Nick returned, he scooped me up in his arms, and carried me out to his vehicle with Silver Stream Sheriff emblazoned on the side. He set me in the front seat and fastened my seat belt. “Stay put. Promise?”

“Promise. But Hannah’s SUV?”

Placing his hands on either side of my face, he kissed me gently, possessively. “I’ll handle it. Miller’s with me, and he’ll drive it back.”

I fell asleep on the way home and didn’t wake until we pulled in Ida’s driveway.

“JT is involved,” I mumbled, as he unhooked my seatbelt. “He let Amy use his woods. Marijuana.”

“I know,” Nick said. He turned off the engine. “A hydroponic operation. Underground tanks. An underground garden. Each tank held about a hundred plants and there are tanks all over the place.”

“But he didn’t kill …”

“Al Collins? I know that, too. Amy killed him.”

“You know a lot,” I said. “How’d you find out?”

“I’m a cop.”

“I found out, too, Mister Head Honcho.”

“And if you ever pull a stunt like this again… . ”

Ida opened the front screen door and stepped out onto the porch, her hand over her heart. Even from here I could see she was upset. Behind her, Hannah and Agnes were no less upset. Agnes’s hands went to her mouth as soon as our eyes met and I could see she was trying to hold back tears.

When was the last time anyone cried over me?

Nick by my side, I limped up the front steps, glad to be home. This place felt like home. I was hugged and led into the front room. After I was seated in the best overstuffed chair in the room, Nick on the hassock beside me, Ida went to get me hot chocolate, Hannah tucked a plaid throw around my shoulders, and Agnes set up a tray with cookies and cakes on it.

I loved how they fussed over me. I knew they were dying to hear what had happened, so when they were all seated, I gave them a brief sketch, leaving out the most violent parts.

“The Gray cops called my cell phone on the way home, while you were asleep,” Nick said. “Amy knew she was going down and opted for a deal. She talked. She had convinced Percy to meet her contacts at the auctions. JT wanted out. He was afraid. Thought the operation was getting too big, too risky.”

“She was going to kill him,” I said. “I think he knew that.”

“Ellie found out about this several days ago. She told us this morning,” Ida said.

I explained, “Amy killed old Percy. She was a scared kid. He’d raped her.”

“I know. She had a lot to say once she was in custody. Evidently, after she murdered old Percy she went to Al Collins, her high school friend. He took her bloody clothes and gave her clean ones. Al said he’d burn hers. He didn’t. He buried them in a plastic bag,” Nick said. “Then a few weeks ago he told her unless she cut him in for a bigger profit, he was going to see that the right people found those bloody clothes.”

“Blackmail,” Ida said, shaking her head.

“She tricked him into the woods at the beginning of hunting season,” Hannah finished. “No one hearing the shot would think much of it.”

“Right,” Nick said.

Ida asked, “She told Al to meet JT in the woods and instead she was there with a gun?”

“Yes, Ida. That’s part of what you overheard.”

“My father’s name will be cleared,” I said. “Finally, he can rest in peace. I’ll call Howie in the morning to tell him.”

The aunts were nodding.

“We’re so glad,” Agnes said.

“So glad,” Hannah and Ida echoed.

“What’s going to happen to Percy?” I asked Nick.

“They got him on selling weed. Eighty pounds. The eight and the zero are from your mystery list, Nora, the one that mentioned Gray. That minor detail you decided not to mention to me? The chief investigator? The head honcho?”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry? Hmm. Another lie tumbles from your lips.”

“Well, I’m sorta sorry.” I held up my splinted finger and my bandaged ankle in a bid for sympathy.

“I hope this ends your detective career.”

“I almost never lie, you know.”

“I didn’t know that.”

I nodded. “It’s true.”

“About your detective career? It’s over?”

“Ended. Absolutely.” I held up my right hand as if I were taking an oath.

The aunts watched all this with great interest, but no one said a word.

The following morning I slept late. After a speedy shower in cold water—damn water heater—I went downstairs, knowing my time here had come to an end. I’d had a long visit, gotten to know some wonderful relatives, proved my father’s innocence, caught a killer, helped a friend get evidence against her cheating husband. Nothing to sneeze at. I’d never accomplished half as much in a year in New York.

I heard Ida talking to someone in the front hall as I came down the stairs.

“Mary Fran?” I said, smiling, hobbling over to her. “The case is wrapped up.”

Mary Fran’s hand flew to her mouth. “You’re hurt. I heard that and came to see. I feel responsible.”

Since I’d already taken a pain pill and was feeling absolutely no pain, I brushed it off. “No problem. I feel fine.” I steered her to the kitchen, the source of the wonderful aroma of blueberry pancakes and bacon.

“Percy called and wants me to get a lawyer for him.” Mary Fran’s face was one big smile. “I told him to get his own. I have one for myself. Then I hit him with his coming divorce. But held off mentioning the prenup. I want to spread out the bad news. Savor it. Did you get the pictures?”

“I did. Nick’s having them developed.”

I told her what I’d witnessed yesterday as Ida dished out pancakes. Mary Fran declined the food and said she only had time for a cup of coffee. As I was pouring, Nick arrived with the pictures. Mary Fran laid them out on the table and we all looked.

“My word,” Ida commented. “Looks like those two were in pretty bad shape when you got finished with them, Nora. Aren’t you the one.”

“Thanks. These are perfect,” Mary Fran said. “Love the one with his arm around her.”

Mary Fran opened her purse and counted out a pile of twenties. “This isn’t nearly enough for what you went through. You should charge more.”

Behind her, Nick rolled his eyes.

The phone rang and Ida answered.

I walked Mary Fran to the front door and told her I’d try to see her before I left Maine.

“I have to be going, too,” Nick said a few minutes later, his arm around my shoulder. “How’s the finger today? And the foot?”

“I’m on pain medication.”

“Good.”

We stood at the screen door, awkwardness like a third person between us.

Ida called from the kitchen, “Nora, Vivian’s on the phone. Wants to know when you’ll be able to finish up her case? The Pomeranians? What shall I tell her?”

Nick grinned at me.

I wasn’t one of those people who breaks her word easily. Of course, the Pomeranian problem didn’t involve computers or photos, so I wouldn’t know what I was doing if I took the case. At least I didn’t think I would.

I said to Nick, “I have to teach you about colors.”

He put his hands on my shoulders. “Colors?”

“Umm.” I felt a chill shiver its way up my spine as he drew me closer. “The difference between lime green and plain old green.”

His brow laddered as he thought about this. “The green fibers?”

“The fibers.”

He nodded his understanding, then kissed me.

“There’s lots I don’t know about colors,” he whispered, his mouth so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. “It may take a while.”

“I realize some folks are slower than others. I make allowances,” I said.

The man had a lecherous look in his eyes. I loved it.

He kissed me again, more thoroughly this time, then asked, “You willing to stay until the job is done?”

“I’m tenacious. You know that.”

He brushed my lips, a light kiss that left me wanting more.

“Nora?” Ida called. “About Vivian?”

“Tell her I’ll see her in a few days,” I called.

“Have to go,” Nick said. “Duty calls. Dinner tonight?”

“Sounds good.”

Another kiss and he was out the door. As he took off down the driveway, I stepped out on the porch and breathed in the crisp morning air. September air. Maine air. The sun was coming in at a different angle now, lower, the rays more slanted as the earth tipped toward winter. Fall was settling in with all its glory. Leaves were splashed with golds and reds and purples. Of course, I didn’t intend to stay forever, make Silver Stream, Maine my permanent home or anything. I was a city girl, after all.

But I had things to do here. There was the hot water heater to fix, for one. The money from Great-grandmother Evie would come in handy. Howie could put up his share. I’d tell him later how much he wanted to contribute.

And I still hadn’t decided about the land. And I had to get Mom and Howie back into the fold. And …

Oh, I had lots to do. No way I could leave yet.

I hobbled off to get paper so I could make a list.

THE END

Author’s note

Although I live in New York, I visited my cousin Madeline when she and her husband retired to Maine. I could picture myself having all sorts of adventures there, but also having a problem with the inhabitants of the woods. And so the setting for this story was born.

I’m presently working on a sequel to MURDER BY THE OLD MAINE STREAM. It has no official title, but here’s a clue: it’s got something to do with Vivian and her Pomeranians.

Bernadine Fagan