Dead Ringer (14 page)

“It was,” I agreed. “Are you going home now?”

“Yes.” She bit down on her lower lip. “Thank you for . . . you know, talking to me and everything.”

“You're welcome. Are you going to tell your mom what you told me?”

Susannah glanced over her shoulder at her mother. “Yes. As soon as we get home.”

“Good. It's for the best,” I assured her. I opened my arms and she stepped into them. I gave her a quick hug, still taking care not to use my bandaged hand. “Listen, why don't I give you my number? That way if you ever want to talk about what happened today you can get in touch with me.”

“I'll give you mine too.”

We dug our phones out of our respective purses and exchanged numbers.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” I said once we were done.

She stepped back and gave me a tremulous smile. “You too.”

She returned to her waiting mom, who put an arm around her and led her off down the street.

JT came over then. “Susannah, I take it?” he said, following my gaze as I watched the girl leave with her mother.

“Yes.”

Once they were gone, I glanced around at the quieting scene. The ambulance and one of the fire trucks had already departed, and most of the onlookers had left now too. A fireman led McAllister and his wife inside the building. The sight of the reverend brought all my suspicions back to the surface.

I couldn't help but see him in a sinister light now. Had he strangled Jeremy and then tried to do away with me and Susannah?

Jeremy had blackmailed Hans, and I now believed that he had blackmailed McAllister as well. He'd told Susannah to keep quiet about the video, yet McAllister knew about it. I figured that meant Jeremy had threatened to make the video public, demanding money from the reverend in exchange for keeping the video a secret. Maybe I was wrong, but I didn't think so.

The question was, had blackmail and the threat of exposure driven Reverend McAllister to murder?

 

Chapter 14

“I
THOUGHT YOU
suspected Clausen,” JT said when I told him about Susannah's story and my latest suspicions.

“I did. I do.” I lowered the passenger window of JT's truck so the stench of smoke from my clothes and hair wouldn't overwhelm us. “I guess I suspect several ­people. McAllister just happens to be at the top of my list at the moment.”

JT turned his truck off a tree-­lined street and onto a busy road, heading toward my neighborhood. “So who else is on your list?”

“Well, there's Ray.”

“The guy who just saved your life?”

“Maybe the whole rescue thing was meant to deflect suspicion away from him.”

JT sent me a skeptical, sidelong glance.

“Why not?”

“I suppose it's a possibility,” he conceded. “But setting fire to a church and endangering ­people's lives seems a bit over the top if his sole purpose was to make himself look unsuspicious.”

I tugged on my left earlobe and breathed in the fresh damp air blowing in through the open window. “Maybe he wanted to scare me because I'm getting too close to the truth.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Getting close to the truth.”

“I have no idea.” I rested my head against the back of the seat. “All I've got is a bunch of suspicions. But he might think that I know more than I do.”

“What would make him think that?”

I searched my memory for anything I might have done to make Ray believe I could be a threat to him. “I was asking questions last rehearsal. About whether he'd seen Jeremy in the minutes before his death. But I don't think that would have been enough to worry him, even if he is the killer.” I thought things over for a moment. “And I have no idea why he would want to kill Jeremy. But that's why he's lower down my list than McAllister, who had motive and opportunity for both Jeremy's murder and the fire. He probably wanted to get rid of me and Susannah so no one would find out about the video.”

If I'd had a physical list of suspects, I would have underlined and circled McAllister's name. He seemed to me the most likely culprit.

“You said you suspected several ­people,” JT reminded me. “Who else?”

“Clover seems pretty upset that Jeremy dumped her when he proposed to Shelley. And her boyfriend looks like a grizzly bear on steroids. If he found out about Clover and Jeremy, he might have decided to take Jeremy out of the picture, whether or not he knew that things were over between them.”

“But what about the fire?”

“Clover knows I was asking questions the other night.” I shook my head. “Nope. I still like the reverend for it.” I tapped my fingers on the armrest. “I should tell the detectives about him.”

“Really?” JT didn't sound too thrilled.

“Don't you think they should know? I bet they have no clue that Jeremy was blackmailing McAllister.”

“You
don't even know that he was blackmailing McAllister,” JT pointed out.

I made a face. “Fine. But I strongly suspect that he was, given what Susannah told me. And if McAllister is the killer, isn't it my civic duty or something to put the police on the right track?”

JT let out a breath as he turned his pickup truck onto my street.

“What?” I could sense his exasperation, but I wasn't sure what had caused it.

“If you feel you should tell the police, then go ahead. But then can you please leave the investigation to them?”

I rolled my eyes as I raised the passenger window. “Haven't we had this conversation before?”

“Yes. Without effect, apparently.” He pulled into a parking space across the street from my apartment building.

“You can't blame me for wanting to know who the murderer is. Especially since he or she was likely behind the fire that almost killed me and Susannah.”

“I don't blame you for wanting to know who the killer is.” JT shut off the engine and pulled his keys out of the ignition with more force than usual. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “But if the murderer set the fire to silence you, or to scare you into backing off, that means you could still be in danger. If you keep poking around and asking questions, the killer might try to harm you again.”

“Possibly,” I said. “But it's also possible that the fire was set by some random pyromaniac or maybe as a foolish prank. Or maybe it was aimed solely at Susannah for whatever reason, and I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I don't know what to believe,” I confessed.

“Exactly.” The muscle in JT's jaw twitched again. “So can we please err on the side of caution?”

I opened my mouth to argue but then shut it again. “I guess that would be the smart thing to do,” I said after a moment.

“It would.”

Even though the truck's engine was off, JT gripped the steering wheel. I wasn't used to seeing him so uptight.

“I'm sorry, JT. I didn't mean to exasperate you.”

He relaxed his hold on the wheel. “I'm more worried than exasperated.”

He unbuckled his seat belt and I followed suit. We climbed out of the truck and waited for a car to pass before crossing the street.

“I think you should go visit your parents for a few days,” JT said as I dug my keys out of my purse.

I stopped and stared at him. “Why?” My parents lived out of town, four hours away by car.

“To get out of harm's way.”

I shook my head and resumed my search for my keys. Once I had them in hand, I unlocked the front door of my apartment building. “I can't take off. I have to work.”

JT held the door open for me. “A few days off won't kill you.”

“No.” I led the way across the lobby and up the stairs. “But they'd hurt my bank account. If I don't teach, I don't get paid.”

Even though I earned some money from playing in the orchestra, I depended on my teaching income to keep me afloat. I'd already canceled my Saturday lessons to attend Jeremy's funeral. I didn't want to cancel any more if it weren't absolutely necessary. And in my mind, it wasn't.

“Then come stay with me for a few days. That way you can still work.”

We reached the third floor and I unlocked the door to my apartment. “This isn't like you, JT.”

“Caring about the safety of my best friend isn't like me?”

I sighed and opened the door. “Okay, so that is like you.” I entered my apartment and tossed my keys and purse on the coffee table. “But I'm used to you being so calm. When you worry, I worry.”

“Maybe you should be worried.”

I put my hands on my hips. My burned hand protested vigorously. “Ow!” I cradled it against my stomach and frowned, partly at JT and partly at my painful injury. “Are you trying to scare me?”

“No, I'm trying to get you to take things seriously so you don't get hurt again.” He nodded at my gauze-­wrapped hand. “Things could have turned out a lot worse today, Dori.”

“I
know
that. I'm the one who almost got charred.” I sighed again, the tension that had been building in my shoulders now slipping away. “I'm not sure why I'm arguing about this. I'm as worried as you are. I just don't like to admit it because . . . because that makes it real. I mean, maybe the fire was random, but what if it really was aimed at me?” A quiver of fear jittered up my spine. “It's too scary to think about. So I'd rather not.” JT was about to say something, but I cut him off before he had the chance. “I know, I know. Denial won't stop something like that happening again.”

“So you'll stay at my place?”

“For a few days.”

JT relaxed and rewarded me with a half smile. “Good.”

I slipped out of my blazer and grimaced at the smell of it. “I don't think I can wait any longer for a shower.” I headed for the closet in my bedroom and rummaged around for some clean clothes. “I guess I messed up our movie plans,” I said when I emerged back into the living room. “Feel free to have a snack if you're hungry.”

“What have you got?” JT asked, heading for the fridge.

“Some stuff for sandwiches. Not much else. Have a look while I de-­smoke myself.”

I grabbed some plastic wrap and a garbage bag from the kitchen and left JT with his head in the fridge. After I shut myself in the bathroom, I removed all my clothes and stuffed them into the garbage bag. I wasn't sure if they could be saved with washing or dry cleaning, but for the moment I didn't want them stinking up my apartment.

I wound the plastic wrap around my bandaged hand, careful not to hurt myself in the process. I didn't want to have to replace the bandage already, and I also didn't want any water pelting against my burn. Once I'd created what I hoped was a waterproof wrapping, I turned on the water and climbed into the shower.

As I scrubbed away the smell of smoke, I thought over everything JT and I had talked about since leaving the church. There were too many puzzle pieces to make much sense of the whole situation. Few of the pieces seemed to fit together, and for all I knew, the most important information could still be missing. Even so, I still had the reverend pegged as my prime suspect, and I felt sure that the detectives needed to know about Susannah's video and the fact the McAllister had threatened her.

With any luck, the police would tell me they were way ahead of me and about to make an arrest. I'd be more than happy to put this whole thing behind me. Jeremy's murder, my disastrous relationship with Hans, my brush with death—­it was all getting to be a bit much. And I really didn't like the thought that I could still be in danger.

As I massaged shampoo into my hair with my uninjured hand, I decided to get in touch with the detectives that afternoon. If McAllister was indeed the murderer and the arsonist, the sooner the police took him into custody the better.

I wanted to stop worrying. I wanted JT to stop worrying. And for that to happen, Jeremy's killer needed to be safely locked away.

O
NCE
I
WAS
thoroughly scrubbed from head to toe and smelling pleasantly of citrus body wash rather than smoke, I dressed in jeans and a T-­shirt and joined JT in the kitchen. While I showered, he'd made sandwiches using the deli meats, cheese, and tomatoes I'd purchased the day before. I was hungry despite the amount of food I'd eaten at the reception, maybe because of the stress I'd been through since then. As we ate, we chatted about JT's latest music projects and a ­couple of our mutual friends. It was nice to talk about something other than murder and arson, but those subjects were never far from the forefront of my mind.

JT needed to be back at his studio by late in the afternoon to work with a trio of musicians, so we didn't hang around my place long after we finished eating. On his way home he dropped me off at the police station, and I waved to him as he pulled back out into the Saturday afternoon traffic.

I hesitated before entering the station, wondering if I should have called first. Maybe Detectives Bachman and Salnikova weren't even in. But since I was already there, I figured I might as well try my luck.

I entered the reception area and approached the woman behind the glassed-­in reception desk. When I asked to speak with either Bachman or Salnikova, she directed me to take a seat. I did so, staring at the gray walls adorned with crime prevention posters as I waited.

Several minutes ticked by. When I finished reading all of the posters on the closest wall, I pulled out my phone to check for text messages. I had none. I opened a game of solitaire on my phone and was halfway through it when a female voice spoke my name.

“Ms. Bishop?”

I looked up. Detective Salnikova stood near a corridor leading away from the reception area.

I shoved my phone into my purse and stood up. “Hi. Thanks for seeing me.”

Salnikova nodded. “Come this way.” She led me down the corridor to a small room with a table and four chairs. “Take a seat.”

I settled into one of the chairs, a rickety old wooden contraption that creaked beneath my weight. I hoped it wouldn't break on me. A burned hand was enough injury for one day.

Salnikova chose a seat to my right, at the head of the table, and set a notebook out in front of her. She rested her pen on top of it and sat back, regarding me with her blue eyes. “I hear you were involved in a scary incident earlier today.”

“So you did hear about that. Do you think the arsonist and the murderer are the same person?”

“Is that why you're here? Because you think there's a connection?”

I didn't miss the fact that she answered my question with more questions. I tried not to let it annoy me. “Kind of. I thought you should know what I learned right before the fire.”

“Which is?”

Once again I related the story about meeting Susannah and learning about her connection to Jeremy, as well as the incident with Reverend McAllister. “I think blackmail could be the reason for Jeremy's death,” I said once I'd finished my narrative. “I would have told the officers at the scene of the fire, but I figured it would be easier to explain everything to you.”

Salnikova made no verbal comment, but wrote something down in her notebook. I tried to read her notes without being obvious about it, but her writing was too small for me to make out from my position.

“Susannah didn't say she was aware that Mr. Ralston was blackmailing Reverend McAllister?” the detective asked after she finished writing.

“No. But it makes sense, doesn't it? We already know that Jeremy was blackmailing Ha—­Maestro Clausen. Surely once he knew about the video, he'd have seen dollar signs in front of his eyes.” I sat forward as I got into the groove of sharing my theory. “And it's possible that McAllister overheard me and Susannah talking. If he did, he had motive to set the fire. Even if he didn't overhear us, maybe he was afraid that Susannah would post the video online, or at least tell someone else about it, which she did. The purpose of the fire could have been to get rid of both of us, or just Susannah, depending on what was going on in McAllister's head.”