Dead Certain (16 page)

“That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“It makes sense to the killer. We just have to be smart enough to figure it out.”

“Do you have any ideas on this?” She folded her arms across her chest as if suddenly cold.

“Well, there’s the pottery. . . .”

“But Marian had nothing to do with that. She never even saw the piece.”

“How about this?” Sean leaned his elbows on the glass counter. “How about if someone was here, going through your shop on Wednesday night, after you closed, looking for the goblet. Maybe Marian saw something—a light, a figure, whatever—and came over to investigate. Maybe at first she thought it was you working late, just as she had been. Maybe she tried the door and found it open, came in. He forces her back over to her place, where he kills her.”

“Maybe. Maybe. She would have come over, if she’d seen something.” Amanda nodded thoughtfully. “Just like I went to her shop when something seemed wrong.”

“Or . . .”

“Or . . . ?”

“I mentioned, I think, that I’d read through your file. The one from last year.”

“The case against Archer Lowell, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, and you found that Lowell had threatened Derek. We knew that.”

“Did you know that he had threatened Marian as well?”

“What?”

“When Lowell was arrested, he made the statement to the arresting officers that if it was the last thing he did, he’d get back at that bitch who’d called the cops on him.” He leaned back against the counter. “Marian was the one who called 911 the day that Archer attacked you outside your shop.”

“Yes.” She nodded, her face grave. “Yes, she did. And she was going to testify against him in court.”

“But then he pled out, and there was no trial.”

“You think somehow this is all connected to him?”

“It’s worth following up on. At one time, he’d threatened both Derek and Marian. And now they’re both dead.”

“But you said the prison officials confirmed that he’s had no other visitors, no contact with anyone other than his mother and his sister.”

“We’re going to have to look a little closer at Mr. Lowell. Maybe there’s a former cell mate, someone he came in contact with—”

Her hands started to shake and her legs went weak. “I don’t want that to be it. I don’t want it to be because of me. I don’t want them to be dead because of me.”

Without thinking, he put his arms around her and let her cry, held her until she stopped shaking.

“Bastard,” she growled. “I thought this was all behind me—that
he
was behind me.
Bastard.
If he had anything to do with this . . .”

“We’ll figure it out. If it’s him, if he’s involved somehow, we’ll find out. If he’s behind this, we’ll find out.”

“It’s so hard to believe. For one thing, I would never figure him being smart enough to plan something like this. I mean, wouldn’t you have to be pretty smart to pull off something like this from behind bars?”

“Maybe he has a smart friend.”

“He’d have to.” She disengaged herself and dug into her purse for a tissue. Not finding one, she went behind the counter and pulled one from the box that sat on the shelf. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose and turned back to him. “Let’s find him. Let’s find Archer’s friend, if he has one.”

“Let’s do that.”
Before Archer’s friend finds you . . .

Her eyes returned to the glass case that stood between them. “Marian bought several pieces of jewelry at the sale.” She leaned down to peer at the items on display. “There are the earrings . . . and there, there’s the bracelet.”

She frowned.

“Something wrong?”

“There was a pendant on a nice gold chain. Emeralds set in concentric circles, quite lovely. She had that in here.”

“Maybe she sold it.”

“If she did, it would have had to have been sometime on Wednesday. I can’t believe she wouldn’t have mentioned it, though. Let me check her receipts for this week.”

She took a few steps in the direction of the office, then stopped.

“Tell me where it is. I’ll get it,” Sean said.

She shook her head. “No, I’ll do it.”

She pushed open the door and went into the small room, which still held the smell of blood and fear. She steeled herself against it and walked around the stain, refusing to let the images in.

In the top desk drawer was the black folder in which Marian recorded her purchases. Amanda grabbed it and returned to the front room.

“You might want this,” she told Sean. “Though there doesn’t seem to be too much sales activity this week . . .”

She scanned through the folder once, then a second time.

“It’s not here. If she sold it, she would have noted it. She was a stickler for keeping track of her sales.”

Amanda went back to the glass case to take another look. “Not here.”

“When had you last seen the necklace there?”

“Late on Wednesday afternoon.”

“And it was in that case?”

“Right there on that black velvet stand. Unless she moved it to another case . . .” Amanda made her way around the shop, studying the contents of each glass case. “It isn’t here, Sean.”

“Then she must have sold it after you saw it on Wednesday.”

“There’d be paper on it.”

“Maybe she planned on taking care of that when she got in yesterday. Maybe it was late in the afternoon . . .”

“No. She would have done it there and then. There was no mañana to Marian. She would have written a receipt at the time of the sale.”

“Did you happen to notice any customers going in or out of her shop on Wednesday?”

“Only earlier in the day. There was a busload of shoppers from Maryland who came in around ten and left around three.”

“But you saw the necklace after that. Later in the day.”

“Closer to four.”

“So if the necklace was in the shop on late Wednesday afternoon, where is it now?” Sean rubbed his chin. “A souvenir, maybe . . .”

“I’m sorry?”

“He could have taken it as a souvenir. Do you remember what it looked like?”

“Yes.”

“Enough to make a drawing?”

“I can try, but I’m afraid I’m not much of an artist. And I may not remember all of the details. I only saw it once close up.”

“Maybe you can sketch out what you remember, then we’ll pass it on to Dana and maybe she can work something up. She’s a pretty fair artist. Would you have time to sit with her for a while today?”

“Sure. I have all the time in the world.”

She looked across the cobblestone walk to where her own shop sat, locked up and dark. She had no desire to so much as unlock the door.

“Ready, then?” Sean stood near the door.

“Sure,” she sighed. “Why not?”

Her two best friends were gone, her business—once her sanctuary—now a sad and silent reminder of all she’d lost over the past few weeks.

She might as well spend the rest of the day at the police station. She had nowhere else to go.

Now, where was the bitch? Honest to God, you turn your back on a woman for twenty-four hours and she disappears.

Vince had tramped through the woods that bordered the open field behind Amanda’s house, climbed a tree he’d used for this exact purpose several times before, and, binoculars in hand, studied the house for the past three hours. There’d been no movement. No lights on at dawn, no music, no TV chatter, as was her usual routine.

Maybe she’s in mourning,
he thought wryly, then glanced at his watch.

Till nine-thirty in the morning? Not likely. Not her. She was the original early to bed, early to rise girl.

He should know.

So far this morning, he’d watched the neighbors on either side of the little Victorian house leave for work. Amanda should have followed them by now.

“Oh, what the hell . . .”

He swung his legs over the branch below and dropped effortlessly to the ground. Cautious, just in case someone in the neighborhood was still at home, he approached the house along the shrub line, bent over at an angle so that his head never rose above the shortest of the shrubs. When he got to the back of her garage, he straightened up and stealthily inched along the wooden structure until he had an unobstructed view of the driveway.

Her car wasn’t there.

Well, well, well. Wonder where Missy Amanda slept last night?

He crept along the drive, then made a dash for the back of the house. Once near the porch, he knew he was safe. The steps blocked off the view from the neighbors on the left, even if anyone had been home at that hour. He dropped to his knees and ever so carefully pushed out a pane of glass in one of the basement windows. He placed it on the grass, out of harm’s way, and pushed in the sash. He lowered himself through the opening and dropped quietly into the basement, as he’d done so many times before.

“Let’s see what Miss Amanda has been up to,” he muttered.

He went directly to the far end of the basement and into the small room where a washer and dryer stood on a raised pedestal of concrete. He opened the washer and looked in. Empty. He peeked in the dryer. Empty as well. No laundry yet this week, Amanda?

Disappointed, he went up the stairs. Last time he’d lifted a pretty thong made out of a pale pink fabric and stuck it in his pocket. No such prize today.

He wondered if she’d even noticed it was gone.

Maybe she thought she’d left it someplace else, he snorted as he used a credit card to unlock the basement door.

The house lay still. Even the air seemed to be undisturbed until he made his way through it. He looked through the refrigerator and helped himself to a handful of strawberries, which he munched while he rifled through her mail and selected a magazine. He popped the tab on a beer and took it with him up the steps to her bedroom. Pausing in the doorway, he looked around the room.

Nothing had changed since his last visit a few days earlier.

He placed the beer bottle on the magazine on the bedside table, then lay down on the bed and stretched out. Catching her scent, he followed his nose, then buried his face in the pillow. It smelled clean, slightly lemony. It turned him on. He’d have to check her dresser and see if he could figure out which of those bottles held this perfume. He’d buy some for Dolores and make her wear it when they went to bed.

He wondered when he’d gone from wanting to kill Amanda, to wanting her.

He wondered if it mattered. His plan hadn’t changed. He’d still kill her. But if he could have her for a while first, if he could indulge himself in her for a time, why shouldn’t he have that pleasure?

He closed his eyes and thought about having spent the night in Dolores’s bed. He felt himself start to grow hard, remembering the enthusiasm with which Dolores had thanked him for his gift. He slid the zipper down on his jeans and freed himself, stroked himself, an image filling his mind’s eye.

Dolores’s body, Amanda’s face.

Amanda’s face. Amanda’s body.

Everything he wanted to do to her. Everything he
would
do to her.

God, he couldn’t wait.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

“Was it more rounded like this, do you think, or was it more oval-shaped?” Dana slid the sketch pad across the table to Amanda.

Amanda studied Dana’s efforts. “I’m not sure,” she said, and shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t remember. I really didn’t study the pendant all that closely. Marian had bought several pieces at the same sale and was showing them off all at once. I do remember that the general shape was round, that there were concentric circles in the middle there, just like you’ve done, but I don’t remember what kind of bale was at the top and whether or not it had stones in it, and I don’t remember if there was some sort of gold fretwork around the outside. I seem to think there was, but I can’t swear to it.”

She looked up at Dana and exhaled slowly, one long tired breath. “I’m so sorry. That’s the best I can do.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. You did just fine. We have a fairly good description of the pendant, enough that should alert the dealers throughout the county that we’re looking for a similar piece.” She stood, smiling. “I’ll run this past the chief, then maybe we’ll put it out to the press and the pawnshops throughout the county.”

Dana bit her lip, examining her work. “Maybe we should send it out a little farther. Down to Philly. No, all of Pennsylvania. North Jersey, New York.” She looked up at Amanda as if just remembering that she was there. “Though I’m betting we don’t find it. I’m thinking he’s going to keep it. A pretty souvenir. Which would be good for us, you know?”

“Because when you find the pendant, you’ll know you’ve found the killer.”

“And then”—Dana scooped up her drawing and headed to the door—“we’ll hang him with it.”

“Nice work.” Sean looked over Dana’s sketch. “Very nice. I’ll get someone to send out the faxes right now.” He glanced at the clock. “And if I hurry, I can get a press conference in before the early news begins, show it off. Get the local papers to run the sketch.”

“You don’t believe he’s pawned it, do you?”

“Not a chance.” He shook his head. “He’s holding on to this or keeping it someplace close to him, where he can see it.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

“But there’s always that one-in-a-million chance that he’s decided to dump it. We’d be foolish to operate only on assumption here. There’s too much at stake.”

“Maybe we’ll get real lucky. Maybe he’s shown it to someone.” Dana glanced at her watch. “It’s well past noon. I’d like to leave for lunch. Do I take Amanda with me?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind, but I know that my spending time with her takes an officer away from the investigation.” She leaned against the doorjamb. “Last time I looked, we only had five other officers in the department.”

“Nothing we can do about that. We can’t take the chance that he’ll move in on her if she’s alone.”

“Have you thought about asking for help from the FBI?”

“For all of about thirty seconds,” he snapped.

“Sorry.” She took a few steps back, surprised by the sharp tone of his voice. “I just thought . . . It’s just that we have such a small department. Maybe we could use a little help, that’s all.”

“We have some fine officers. We’ll do just fine.”

“Sean, I didn’t mean . . .” Dana sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Take Amanda to lunch. The department will reimburse you.”

“Chief, your sister is on line two,” Joyce announced through the speaker.

“Thanks.” He hit the button and waved to Dana as she turned her back and left the room. “What’s up, Greer?”

“Did you really sleep in your patrol car out here in front of my house last night?”

“And top of the morning to you, too.”

“Did you? Kay across the street mentioned it when I went out to my fitness class this morning. Wondered what was going on.”

“Actually, I slept on the sofa in your den last night.” He shuffled through some papers on his desk, looking for the reports on an armed robbery suspect they’d transferred to the county prison two days earlier. “And you’re just figuring that out? Hell of a detective you’d have made.”

“And here I thought you just showed up early for breakfast.” Greer paused. “You plan on doing that again tonight?”

“Most likely.” Where the hell was that ballistics report?

“I’ll leave you some proper bedding then. Honestly, Sean, why didn’t you say something?”

“Didn’t think about it. Got tired of sitting outside, started thinking about that sofa, figured, hell, what difference did it make if I was outside or inside, as long as I was there.”

“True enough, though why you thought you should be sleeping outside is beyond me. By the way, did I think to tell you this morning that I have the Karmas monthly pot luck dinner tonight? It’s at Mary Beth’s.”

The Karmas was the official name of the group Steve referred to as Greer and the Do-Gooders. Each month they met to discuss who in town was going through a hard time and what they could do to help out in a small, anonymous way. The ladies had chosen Karma as the name because they believed that you got back what you gave out, and by giving out a little kindness into the world, the world would give them kindness in return.

“No. You hadn’t mentioned that.”

“I’ll be home by ten or so, but you might want to make other plans for Amanda, if you think she still needs watching. Unless you think she might want to come along.”

“I’ll let you know. Thanks, Greer.” He wasn’t sure Amanda was ready for the Karmas.

He hung up the phone and walked down the hall to the reception area.

“Dana go through here yet?”

“She and what’s ’er name—the Crosby woman—just left,” Joyce said without looking up from her keyboard. “You can probably catch them in the parking lot.”

He caught up with them just as Dana was backing out of her parking place. Sean walked toward the car, motioning for her to roll the window down.

“Dana, what time do you go off today?”

“My shift is up at four, why?”

“Got plans for the evening?”

“Preview night at school for Courtney. She starts kindergarten next week, and tonight’s the night when the parents bring the kids in to check out the classroom and the teacher. Get them familiar with the whole deal. Why, what’s up?”

“Well, I’d thought Amanda would be having dinner with Greer tonight, but she just informed me that she has a previous commitment. It’s the Karmas’ night to have dinner.” He leaned into the window just slightly. “Amanda, looks like you’re stuck with me for a while tonight.”

“Who are the Karmas?” Amanda frowned.

“Group of friends Greer gets together with to do good deeds and spread positive vibes through the cosmos. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to tell you about it.”

He heard someone call his name and turned to see Joyce waving from the doorway, indicating that he had a phone call.

“Look, I could probably—”

“No, you probably could not.” He smacked the palm of his hand against the side of the car. “Dana, you’ll bring her back to the station after lunch.”

“Why can’t we go to my shop for a while?” Amanda asked. “I want to try to get in touch with Marian’s niece, and the only place I have her phone number is on the Rolodex in my office.”

He thought it over for a moment, then said, “I guess it doesn’t matter where you are, as long as you’re not alone. Just keep in touch, though. Let me know your plans.”

“Will do.” Dana rolled up her window and put the car in drive.

Sean jogged back to the building, his mind on making the phone call to the D.A. to discuss a possible press conference. He wanted that sketch of the pendant out today. Someone might have seen it. Maybe they’d be willing to tell him where.

“Do you mind stopping at my house for just a minute?” Amanda asked as the police cruiser pulled out of the parking lot of Broeder’s one and only fast-food restaurant. “I wasn’t prepared to spend more than one night at Greer’s. It looks as if I might be there for a few more days.”

“Not a problem. It’s down Jackson, if I remember correctly.”

“Right.”

“This is a nice neighborhood,” Dana noted. “I like how you have such big lots, and those fields and woods behind. It feels like you’re out in the country, but you still have sidewalks and other houses along the street. When Kyle and I first moved to Broeder, this was the neighborhood we wanted, but there was nothing on the market at the time. I love these old houses. They all look so trim and homey. Like a neighborhood in a magazine.”

“I was lucky, I admit. Derek’s aunt had owned the house, and she had decided to sell it right about the time I’d decided to look for one.” Amanda pointed to their right as a reminder to Dana that they were almost to her house. “There, it’s three down from here.”

The car came to a stop, and Amanda opened the door. “I’ll be right back. This won’t take but a minute.”

“Uh-uh.” Dana shook her head. “I’m with you. White on rice and all that.” Dana followed Amanda up the drive. “Front or back?”

“We’ll go in the front.” She turned up the cobbled walk. “And I’ll just grab the mail while I’m here.”

Amanda reached into the box and pulled out a stack several inches thick. “Magazines, junk mail, and bills. And a new Publishers Clearing House thing. There’s something to look forward to. . . .”

She unlocked the front door and stepped into a silent house. Setting the mail down on the small oak hall table, Amanda paused, her head tilting slightly to one side.

“What?” Dana asked softly, straining as if listening to the house sounds.

“Nothing, I guess.” Amanda still stood in the same place near the table.

“Something off?”

“Something . . .” She laughed self-consciously. “You’ll think this is strange, but something smells off. Must be something in the trash.” She walked down the hall toward the kitchen. “Though I could have sworn I’d emptied it before I left the other day. . . .”

Dana’s hand was on her gun as she checked the first floor, room by room, on the way to the back of the house.

“Well, I’m not crazy. I did empty the trash.” Amanda opened the refrigerator and scanned its contents. “Nothing going bad in here. . . .”

“What exactly do you think you smell?”

“Can’t put my finger on it. Just something that shouldn’t be here. Cologne or something.”

Dana sniffed the air. “I don’t smell it.”

“I don’t either, not in here.” Amanda nodded. “Just there in the front hall. Maybe it’s my imagination.”

“Maybe not. Maybe someone was here.” Dana drew her gun. “Let’s go on upstairs. Stay behind me.”

They crept up the stairs and into each room, each closet. Behind the shower curtain, through the small attic, back down to the second floor.

“Anything look out of place?” Dana asked.

Amanda shook her head. “Not that I can tell. Let’s get my stuff and get out of here. I’m feeling spooked.”

She grabbed an overnight bag from a peg on the back of the guest room closet and went into her bedroom, pausing in the doorway to look around.

“Anything?”

“I guess not. Let’s just get out of here.” She laid the bag open on the end of the bed and proceeded to go through a few drawers, pulling out some underwear here, a few shirts there, another pair of jeans, tucking all into the oversized bag. Another pair of shoes from her closet, a small leather case holding her few good pieces of jewelry from a shelf under her bedside table.

She hesitated, frowning.

“What?”

“I must really be losing it. I don’t remember bringing this magazine up here.” She gestured toward the bedside table. “I guess I’m just letting my imagination get the best of me. Let’s just go.”

Amanda noticed that the light was blinking on the answering machine in the hallway when they came back down the stairs. She hesitated, then pushed play. Her dentist’s office, reminding her to call to make an appointment for a checkup. One of her young stepsisters calling to see if she wanted to be involved in plans for a sixtieth birthday party for their father. A hang-up call. Several colleagues who’d heard the news about Marian. Another hang-up. She hit the speaker and dialed the number for last incoming call.

“The number of your last incoming call is unknown.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, then gestured to Dana to go on out the front.

Dana paused at the door. “You going to set that alarm?”

“I can’t, not until I have the entire house rewired, which I haven’t been able to afford to do,” she said, thinking that now would be a good time to have it working. “It sure would come in handy, but unfortunately, the old wiring just sets it off. The alarm company started charging me for false alarms, so I disconnected it.”

Amanda locked the door and started across the porch, then stopped. “I meant to pick up a book while we’re here,” she told Dana. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Well, here, give me that and I’ll put it in the car.” Dana reached up for the bag and caught Amanda’s easy toss.

Unlocking the door, Amanda stepped back inside. The house was still as a tomb. The unfamiliar scent lingered in the air. Was it more pronounced now? Stronger? Amanda shook her head. Impossible. She and Dana had just been all through the house. There was no one there.

She ran up the stairs and quickened her pace as she went into her bedroom. She went straight to the chair near the window and picked up the book she’d been reading before all of this started. Maybe she’d have time to read a little tonight while Greer was out. Maybe it would take her mind off—

Without warning, an arm snaked around her throat and tightened, abruptly cutting off her air. A rough hand covered her mouth and she bit down hard on a finger. Something hissed in her ear, and the hand that she’d bitten punched the side of her head once, twice.

Gasping for breath, blinking against the bright lights that exploded inside her head, she gathered all her strength and bucked forward, far enough to create space between her body and that of her assailant. One elbow sent sharply to his midsection surprised him, caused his grip to slacken enough that she could throw him off. He bounced backward and she spun on one foot, her weight and force centered in the leg and heel that landed a direct shot in his jaw. He howled, shoving her hard, and spun backward through the door, then took the stairs two at a time. She heard him hit the landing on both feet just as her head struck the side of the dresser.