Death of the Couch Potato's Wife: Cozy Christian Mysteries (Women Sleuth, Female Detective Suspense) (23 page)

Chapter 29

I passed Hillary’s house on the way home and saw that the party was still in full swing. Silhouettes congregated behind the window shades, cars lined the street, and nearly every window was lit.

I had to get those record books before I went to the police station with my claims. Paul and Babe were already on their way there to back up my story.

I threw my car into park in my driveway and ran into my house. I didn’t bother to turn the lights on. I had one goal: get the ledgers and leave. I had no time to waste.

My fingers ran over the table by my entryway, the place where I’d deposited those records. I felt the rough edges of a terracotta pot and the feathery wisps of the fern spilling over its sides. I felt the smooth line of the candy dish, filled with chocolate. But no books.

“Are you looking for these?”

I gasped at the strange voice in my house. Hillary.

I looked up and saw her form in the distance, waving the books in one hand and firmly grasping a gun in the other.

My throat went dry. I had to play it cool. “Hillary, what are you doing here? I thought you were at the spa party.”

She stepped closer and narrowed her eyes. “I saw you leave and followed you. That’s when I overheard your conversation with Babe. Figuring out who killed Candace took you longer than I anticipated. You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

I held my hands in the air, feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything. I was just about to go back to the party.”

Hillary scowled. “You’re an awful liar. You were going to the police. I can’t let things end like this. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am.”

I’d try the give-it-to-her-straight method now. “You did work hard to get to where you are. Why blow it by stealing from the treasury?”

“I have a certain standard of living, you know. How were we to know the housing market would dry up? Lenders—like Paul Willis—won’t give us the money to develop new neighborhoods. Everyone thinks I’ve got it together. I couldn’t let them know that we don’t have the money to even pay our bills.”

“But you’re all about following rules. It’s no wonder I didn’t guess you killed Candace. How could you? Murder, Hillary?”

“She found out I’d been doctoring the books and began blackmailing me.”

Blackmail? I didn’t expect that.

“I couldn’t let her go to the cops, but I couldn’t afford to pay her anymore, either. Killing her was my only choice. I tried to make it as painless as possible. The little witch didn’t even deserve that. She made my life miserable.”

“There’s no way you can cover up killing me, too, Hillary. Babe and Paul know you did it. They’re probably telling the police now.” Please, God, let them be telling the police now. I needed to buy more time. “I thought you were up in Indy on the day Candace died. The police said you had an alibi. People at the banquet saw you there.”

“You certainly do your homework, now, don’t you? I just made an appearance at that banquet. Then I slipped out, stopped by Candace’s house to discuss a few things. I made sure she munched on those pork rinds while we spoke. Very few people knew she loved the things as much as she did—she’d just started a low-carb diet, and they were one of the few snacks she could eat. As soon as she slipped into sleep, I made sure she never ran her big mouth again.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I made sure it looked like Donna did it. That was the easy part, as much as she always talked about those stupid cleaning cloths. She even gave me a sample, hoping I’d like them as much as she did. Little did she know I would really like them—as the murder weapon.”

“How’d you know she used sleeping pills?”

Hillary shrugged. “I didn’t. That just so happened to work out in my favor. About half of the population in the U.S. uses them at some point, so those statistics really worked in my favor.”

“How’d you poison the pork rinds?”

“Easy. My husband had a master key made to all of your homes when he built this neighborhood. I could get into anyone’s house whenever I wanted. Convenient, isn’t it?” She sneered. “Any more questions, Mrs. I-can’t-mind-my-own-business?”

“Why’d you stick the letter in Donna’s mailbox instead of mine? I know you knew the difference.”

She smiled as if I’d complimented her. “Easy. I wanted Donna’s fingerprints to be found on the letter in case you turned it into the police.”

“And the videotape? The bugging? They just don’t make sense, Hillary.”

Her smile slipped. “I wanted to make you paranoid. I wanted to make as many people as possible look guilty so I would look innocent. I studied to be a private detective several years ago. They taught me all about how to spy on someone.”

“You were a private detective?”

“No, but I figured the information would come in handy one day. And it did. After I videoed you and set up that bug I just sat back to enjoy the show. The way you went all over town, searching for evidence, jumping at every little sound. People were beginning to think you’d lost it, Laura. That was all a part of my plan.”

“And you wanted to make Donna look guilty? After the police had arrested her, you ransacked the pharmacy. Why would you do that?”

She shrugged, her eyes absent of emotion. “That’s was just my way of trying to get you and your husband to leave town. I didn’t realize how much fun I would end up having as I tried to ruin people’s lives. I’m pretty good at it, it turns out.”

“Killing me won’t make anything easier for you, you know.”

She nudged her gun in the air. “Everyone can see you’re unhappy living in a small town, Laura. You tried to support your husband’s dreams, but just couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t wait for your house to sell to get out of town. You had to leave now. That’s what the note will say.”

“What note?”

“The note you’re going to write before I kill you and make you disappear.”

I swallowed. The action hurt. “Even if you cover up my murder, you’re still going to be charged with Candace’s death.”

“They can’t prove it. Besides, a sudden job opportunity will mean that Mark and I have to move. I’ll be long gone before this police department pieces together everything. When they look at the books, they’ll see that you started doing them a few months ago—you should have read that paper I had you sign more carefully. All the evidence will point to you as the person responsible for her death. You were coming unhinged, dear. Everyone can see that.”

I was coming unhinged? Everyone in the neighborhood knew that I’d just started as treasurer. I didn’t bring that up, though. Instead, I stared at that gun. “You’re making a mistake. No one’s going to believe that.”

“I guess I am. You said you were bad with numbers. That was the only reason I asked you to be treasurer. And the only reason I became your friend was to throw suspicion on other people. I underestimated you.”

“I was voted most likely to succeed in high school.”

She sneered. “That’s not going to take you very far now, is it?”

“We can figure something out, Hillary. It doesn’t have to end this way.”

She walked past me, grabbing my arm as she did. “Come on. Let’s go. To your car.”

I couldn’t get in the car with her. I’d learned enough through watching TV to know that I should never get in a car with someone with a gun. I’d likely die.

My only choice was to keep stalling.

“What about the note?”

She stopped, and her eyes narrowed. “You’re going to email it.” Her fingers clinched tighter into my arm. “Now come on, let’s move. We don’t have that much more time until the game is over.”

Again, I’d be done in by football.

I tried to think of more reasons to stall, but my mind blanked. She jerked me toward the front door. “Say goodbye to this boring life you hated so much.”

Suddenly, life in Boring seemed better than ever.

“Wait!”

Hillary’s fiery gaze locked with mine. “What?”

Just then, the front door flew open, hitting Hillary in the head and pushing her toward me. I seized the moment and tried to grab her gun. Her grip was tight.

“Hello? Laura?”

Kent? What was he doing home? The game had to be in the last inning, or quarter, or whatever they called it.

Hillary regained her posture.

“Help!” I called.

“Hillary?” Confusion tinged Kent’s voice.

Hillary almost had her gun back. Her finger played dangerously close to the trigger.

“Help, Kent!” I yelled again.

He grabbed Hillary. I twisted her arm until the gun began to slip from her grasp.

But not before a loud bang echoed in the foyer.

Chapter 30

“Kent?” My voice sounded as tiny as a mouse.

“Laura?”

He didn’t sound too far away. And he sounded alive, which was even better. Thank you, Lord. I reached forward until I felt his shirt and then pulled him closer, close enough that I could see his face in the inky darkness.

“Are you okay, Laura?”

My head throbbed, but other than that I appeared to be in one piece. I praised God again as I nodded. All that happened flashed back into my memory. The gun. Where was the gun? Where had the bullet ended up? “Where’s the gun, Kent?”

Hillary groaned below us. Kent bolted toward the front door and flipped on the lights. As soon as he did, I spotted the pool of blood on the floor beneath Hillary’s hand. I kicked the gun out of her reach, although I suspected she was in too much pain to grab it. Better safe than sorry, as the expression went.

A police siren sounded in the distance. Good. Help was coming. Babe and Paul had called the chief in time.

Kent’s glance lingered on me. “What’s on your face?”

I shrugged. “Just a beauty mask. I want to look pretty for you.”

“You always look pretty to me.”

I beamed, though he couldn’t see it through the green on my skin. “That’s so sweet.”

“You stupid, stupid people,” Hillary mumbled.

“I don’t really need to explain who the stupid one here is, do I, Hillary?” I actually felt sorry for her. She’d been desperate, and desperate people did stupid things. Now she’d be paying for her decisions for a long time.

Hillary sneered at Kent, all the while grasping her injured hand. “You knew the whole time, didn’t you? You were just playing games with me.”

“Why would I know that you killed Candace? I don’t ever talk to you.” Kent’s arm went around my waist, and he pulled me close.

“All those niceties that you kept saying to my husband and me whenever we went into your pharmacy, about how everything would be okay. God will get us through the tough times. Sharing your feelings can be freeing.”

“I knew your husband was having troubles with his work. I wanted to encourage you both that things would work out eventually.”

Her eyes squeezed shut in pain but, when she opened them a moment later, bitterness had saturated her gaze. “How’d you know we were having financial problems?”

“He shared it with me one Friday after Fantasy Football. Apparently, he’s been having a hard time. Your complaints have done nothing more than emasculate him.”

She gasped. “He did? He shared that information? We both agreed to keep it quiet.”

“He said he had to tell someone. Even men have to share their feelings sometime.”

My mouth dropped open. “Fantasy Football? That’s where you’ve been sneaking off to every Friday?” I couldn’t help it—I laughed.

At least Kent had the decency to look embarrassed—and slightly confused. “It was actually a Fantasy Football group we formed. When we were doing our picks at the beginning of the season, we all had a great time together. We decided to meet every week for lunch at Harry’s house. If your team lost, you had to bring the food. You knew about it?”

“Jasmine said you went somewhere every week.” I shook my head. “The scenarios that went through my mind—”

“I’m sorry, honey. I should have told you. I just didn’t think you’d approve.”

Chief Romeo burst through the front door, gun drawn and sweat dripping from his face. Yeah, this was danger. Real danger. Not the video game sort. I wondered if Romeo had ever experienced that kind of fear in the line of duty while working here in Boring.

His eyes widened when he saw Hillary on the floor. “Hillary Kaye, you’re under arrest for breaking and entering—and that’s only to start with.”

“I need a doctor!” She grasped her hand. “I’ve been shot. By Laura Berry. She’s the bad guy here. I’m just a victim.”

“I doubt that. Maloney, get her outside to the ambulance.” Chief Romeo turned toward me and squinted. “What’s on your face?”

I threw my hands into the air. “Have none of you ever seen a woman in a facial mask before?”

Romeo grunted. “Guess not. Now, let me get your statement.” His gaze drifted to Kent. “In the meantime, you think you could turn the game on so we can find out the score?”

As soon as Chief Romeo and Officer Maloney left, Kent turned off the TV—right in the middle of the fourth quarter. The score was tied and even I, who knew so little about football, knew the game was good.

Kent pulled me into his arms and kissed the top of my head, although my cheeks were now clean and welcoming since I washed the mask off. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

I squeezed him tight. I was glad to be alive also. Very glad. It’s true what people say about your life flashing before your eyes when you’re faced with death. The truth is that I didn’t like what I saw as I relived my life’s highlights. I could use everything that had happened over the past several months to make me a stronger person, or I could be defeated. Lately, I’d been letting myself give in to misery.

I was Mrs. Determined. Why was I letting myself be conquered so easily? I had to start making decisions for my future instead of moping about my past.

Speaking of my future—which I was so thankful to still have—how had Kent ended up back at the house? With my head still buried in his chest, I mumbled, “Why did you come home tonight in the middle of the game? Did Babe call you?”

I could feel him shaking his head. “No, coming home early was part of my plan the whole time.”

Huh? “What are you talking about? You planned to come home early from the Super Bowl party? What sense does that make?”

“I was coming home early to surprise you with dinner. I mean, you’d never expect me to leave the Super Bowl to make a romantic dinner. It was all a part of my grand plan.” He stepped back and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a jewelry box. “Happy anniversary, honey.”

My eyes widened as my heart raced. “You remembered!”

A smile grin brushed his lips. “Of course, I did.”

I took the box from him and flipped the lid up. A gold necklace with a key charm dangling from it rested against the velvet. “It’s beautiful.”

“I thought you might like it.”

“Why a key?” I fingered the charm and wondered if I was missing something obvious.

“I thought a key was appropriate. You hold the key to a lot of things. My heart, for one.”

I could have just melted right then and there. “Even after seven years?”

“Especially after seven years.” He nudged my chin. “You also hold the key to your own happiness. It’s a choice. I know these past few months have been hard on you. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to bring a smile back to your face. But I also realize that I can never truly make you happy. Happiness comes from inside.”

He was right—I had to start looking on the bright side, starting with the fact that I was still alive.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so miserable lately. I’ve never been one to easily adjust to change. And the fact that I wasn’t adjusting as well as I’d like only made me more miserable.”

“You’re a perfectionist.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Not unfortunately. That’s the way God made you. You just have to stop being so hard on yourself.”

I rested in his arms again. I wasn’t good at not being hard on myself. Maybe, with God’s help, I could change that. Right now, I felt eternally grateful for Kent and for God’s intervention in sending him home early tonight of all nights. As I fingered the necklace between my thumb and index finger, my mind replayed the events of the evening.

“I knew you’d never expect me to plan something during the Super Bowl.”

“I can’t believe you were going to give up the biggest game of the year for me.” I felt like ice-cold water had been splashed in my face.

“Of course. There are more important things in life than football.”

I pulled back so I could look him in the eye. “Kent, I want to stay here in Boring. I want to help you with the pharmacy.”

His eyes brightened. “You do?”

“I do. I know it’s taken me awhile to adjust, but I do like it here in Boring. As long as our marriage is okay, I’m okay. Really, I don’t miss the fast-paced life in Chicago. It was too easy to keep myself so busy that I didn’t even know who I was, nor did I have time to really spend with God. I’ll take Boring over busyness. I think God brought us here for a reason.”

Kent grinned. “I think you’re right.”

He pulled me into a kiss.

“I’m now proud to announce the results of our election.” Karen Jones opened an envelope. “The new president of our Homeowners’ Association is Laura Berry!”

It had been three months since Hillary was arrested. I stepped up to the podium as everyone cheered. I’m not quite sure how this had all happened. After Donna was released from jail, she’d decided a career in politics wasn’t for her after all. She just wanted to be a mom. And with Hillary behind bars, someone had to fill the position. The whole neighborhood had come together and written my name on the ballot, electing me against my will. I didn’t mind.

“Thank you, residents of Dullington Estates. I’m very grateful to be serving as your new president. I want to thank you all for your support, and I want to let you know that I’m here to serve and to make this neighborhood the best it can possibly be. In my opinion, Dullington Estates is a place where anyone is lucky to live. I want to continue that tradition.”

I wouldn’t have nearly the time that Hillary had to put into the position, especially now that I was going to work at the pharmacy. It was the perfect situation: Kent and I would get to spend time with each other, he would get the help he needed with the business, and I’d have something to keep me out of trouble.

Besides, I needed something to keep me out of trouble. Kent and I had just found out we were pregnant.

I think the townspeople were right—Boring was going to be the perfect place to raise my child, yawns and all. It’s just too bad that I almost had to become a desperate housewife to see the town’s value.

“Residents of Boring, you are what America is all about. You look out for one another, you care about your community, and you value the morals that have made this country great. You are the epitome of all that is good and decent, and I’m honored to serve you.”

And you know what? I meant every word of it. Boring, Indiana, was the best thing that could have happened to me and to Kent. I was grateful to be a part of this community.

There was just one thing: I would never, ever eat pork rinds again.