How Secrets Die (24 page)

She abruptly reclaimed Nikki's attention by grabbing her arm.

“Tell me again exactly what was said today by Mr. Sheldon and by Bart Gordon.”

Nikki obviously found the current drama far more interesting. “I already told you everything.”

“So tell me again. You might remember something else.”

Nikki gave an elaborate sigh and apparently decided to humor her. Unfortunately, she didn't add much of anything to the story, just repeating what she'd already said. Mr. Sheldon was insistent on talking to Bart, Bart tried to avoid him, and the bit about Sheldon saying he'd told the chief that Jason was innocent.

Innocent of what? And how did Mr. Sheldon know? If it was true he'd been failing in those last months, would he have even noticed?

Kate rubbed her temples. A headache was building, fueled by the incessant noise and the cigarette smoke. She felt as if it throbbed in time with the beat coming from the jukebox.

Why hadn't Mac told her? It was always possible that the whole episode was a figment of the elderly man's imagination, she supposed. He might not have even talked to Mac, or it might have been so garbled Mac hadn't understood.

One thing was sure—she had to straighten it out, which meant she had to talk to Mr. Sheldon again, no matter who stood in her way.

“Ms. Beaumont?”

Kate looked up to find the young patrolman, Foster, looking down at her, still a bit flushed from the excitement of the arrest.

“Yes?”

Before he could answer, two burly characters who'd been propping up the bar all evening were pounding him on the back, congratulating him for his efforts and insisting on buying him a drink.

Foster, red with embarrassment, succeeded in shaking them off after several attempts. “Sorry about that.” Even the tips of his ears were red when he turned back to Kate. “The chief sent me to see you safely home.”

She might have known. “That's not necessary. I have my own car.” Her smile seemed to further complicate his embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he said again. “But it's the chief's orders. I'm to follow you home and check the cottage for you.”

He would obviously not take no for an answer. She shrugged, laying a bill on the table to cover their tab.

“Thanks, Nikki. I didn't intend so much excitement, but I'm glad we had a chance to talk again.”

“Anytime.” Nikki was already turning back to her interrupted conversation, the presence of Foster at their table apparently giving her something else to talk about.

Kate rose. “Maybe we should go before anyone else tries to buy you a drink.”

“Good idea.” He looked relieved. “My patrol car's right outside. I'll walk you to yours.”

Again, she didn't think it necessary, but arguing was pointless. Assuming Bolt was the author of everything that had happened here, she was in no danger with him locked up. But Mac no doubt believed in going the extra mile.

Kate drove back down Main Street to the place that, oddly enough, had started to feel like home. When she pulled in the driveway, Foster was right behind her, and as they approached the door, he took the key out of her hand.

“Stay back, please, ma'am. Just until I tell you it's clear.”

Everything was just as she'd left it, and Mrs. A. was already peering out her back window and waving, but Kate nodded agreement. She waited patiently as lights went on in kitchen, bedroom and bath. Then Foster came back to the door.

“All clear.” He handed her the keys as she stepped inside.

“Thank you. That makes me feel very safe.”

He flushed again. “No wonder if you're upset, after everything that's happened. But we've got Bolt safe under lock and key now. Just sorry you had to see it.”

“I'm glad I did.” She looked at him speculatively, wondering how much he'd be willing to say about Mac. “I was surprised at how calm everyone was. In the city, there would have been sirens wailing and guns drawn.”

Foster shook his head. “Not on Chief Whiting's watch. He says anytime you have to draw your weapon, it's like an admission of failure that you couldn't do it any other way.”

“That seems like a unique attitude for a police officer.”

“Chief says we have to remember we're peace officers. He says you don't draw your weapon unless it's the only option, and then you have to be prepared to use it.”

Foster obviously had a case of hero worship for Mac. “Have you ever seen him draw a weapon?”

“Just once since I've been on the force.” He seemed to withdraw a little, as if thinking he'd been indiscreet. “I'll say good-night, Ms. Beaumont. You be sure to lock up now.”

“I will. And thanks.”

Foster nodded, stepping outside. He waited until she turned the dead bolt, and then she heard his footsteps receding.

Kate wandered to the kitchen, restless. How long until she could talk to Mac? She glanced at the clock. It wasn't all that late, but he'd be busy. Not soon, she supposed. And Sheldon? Maybe in the morning.

Rubbing her temples again, Kate decided some caffeine was in order. She started some coffee, then downed a couple of aspirin.

Kate had no sooner swallowed a mouthful of coffee than her cell phone rang. Frowning at the unknown number, she answered.

“Kate Beaumont here.”

“Kate, I'm sure glad I had the right number. This is Sheila. You know—Mr. Sheldon's caregiver.”

“Yes, of course I remember who you are, Sheila. Is something wrong?”

“Well, yeah. I'm at the hospital. I had to bring Mr. Sheldon in earlier this evening.”

“Why? What happened?” Surely he hadn't been attacked, as well.

“He had a bit of a fall. Nothing serious, the doc says. They want to keep him, though, because he's really agitated, and they don't know why.”

“I'm so sorry.” Sorry for herself, too. Given the state of his health, Mr. Sheldon might not be able to tell her whatever it was he'd told Bart.

“That's really why I'm calling. He keeps asking for you. We can't get him to settle down. He insists he has to tell you something. So I figured, if you came in and talked to him, maybe then he'd relax and go to sleep. If you're willing, I mean.”

“Of course I will,” she said quickly. She glanced at the clock. A little after nine. “But will they let me in this late?”

“I talked to the nurse. She said it's okay. I guess she wants him to settle down as much as I do. We're in the Special Care Unit, third floor, room 320. Just come right up. If anyone stops you, say the nurse asked for you to come. Okay?”

“Wait, before you hang up. I'll come right away, but what happened? What got him so upset to begin with?”

Sheila hesitated for a moment. “I guess it's okay to tell you. Bart Gordon came over. I guess Mr. Sheldon called him, but I didn't hear it. I was in the kitchen,” she added hurriedly, lest Kate think she was slacking off. “Anyway, Gordon was in a rare taking. Upset and demanding to see Mr. Sheldon. I had half a mind to turn him away, but Mr. Sheldon heard him and insisted he come in.”

“Did you hear what they said to each other?”

“No.” She sounded as if she regretted it. “But they went at it hammer and tongs for about fifteen minutes before Gordon slammed out. That was when Mr. Sheldon was so agitated. I knew I should have kept Gordon out.”

“I don't see how you could have stopped him.” She grabbed her bag and her keys. “Listen, I'm on my way. I'll be there in a few minutes. Maybe, when he's told me what he wants to say, Mr. Sheldon will feel better.”

Maybe. She hurried out, locking the door. And maybe she'd feel worse. Maybe she was reaching the heart of what had caused Jason's death.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

T
HE
HOSPITAL
WAS
quiet at this hour of the evening. Kate expected to be challenged when she came in, but the woman at the desk just smiled when Kate headed toward the elevator.

It was only when she reached the Special Care Unit that anyone spoke to her. An RN came hurrying to greet her, as if she'd been watching for Kate.

“Are you Ms. Beaumont?” At Kate's nod, the woman hurried her down the hallway. “I certainly hope you can calm down the patient. He's been upset and agitated since he arrived, and he hasn't let us give him anything to help him sleep.”

“I'll try,” Kate promised, with an inward quake at the responsibility thrust on her.

“He has something he's determined to tell you.” A very human curiosity peeked through the woman's cool professional facade. “We're hoping getting it off his chest will quiet him.” She paused, one hand on the door to the room, beyond which a voice could be heard. “You do realize that with his mental condition, what he says may not make much sense.”

“Should I ask him questions?” Kate was beginning to get as impatient as Sheldon sounded.

“If you want. But just let him feel that he's getting through to you. That should help.”

She pushed the door open, and Kate followed her into the hospital room.

Mr. Sheldon was in the first bed near the door, with Sheila sitting beside him and attempting to hold his hand. He flung it out, banging it against the metal bed rail, and Kate winced. That must have hurt.

“Here's the person you've been asking for.” The nurse spoke in such a cheerful voice that it set Kate's nerves on edge. “You can talk to Ms. Beaumont, and then I'm sure you'll feel better.”

Sheldon sat up, peering at Kate suspiciously. Then, apparently satisfied, he nodded. “You two go out. We want some privacy.”

Given the imperial tone, it was a good thing there was nobody in the other bed, or Sheldon would probably have wanted the roommate out, as well. She sent an apologetic glance toward Sheila.

But Sheila nodded, her round, ruddy face relieved. She got up quickly. “Here, Kate, have my chair. I'll just go out in the hall and stretch my legs.”

As Kate sat, the nurse twitched, unnecessarily, it seemed, at the bedcovers. Then she followed Sheila out into the hall with what looked like a warning glance at Kate.

“I'm so sorry to hear about your accident. I wouldn't have intruded, but Sheila said you wanted to see me.”

“You came. They said I shouldn't bother you.” The figure in the bed was a far cry from the courtly, well-dressed gentleman Kate had met in his home. He seemed wizened in the faded print of the hospital gown, and his white hair was ruffled.

“It's no bother at all. You wanted to tell me something. Is it about my brother?” She couldn't help the eagerness in her voice.

Sheldon clasped Kate's hand in a hard grip. “Jason.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “He was a fine boy. Smart, honest. A hard worker. Don't believe anyone who tells you otherwise.”

“I never have.” She managed a smile. “After all, I knew him better than anyone did.”

Sheldon nodded. “He talked about you sometimes. His clever big sister. He said you always took care of him.”

“I tried.” Her throat grew thick. But when it had counted, she'd failed.

“Don't blame yourself for what happened. You're not to blame.” His grip tightened painfully. “It was our fault. My fault.”

“I'm sure you didn't—” she began, but he cut her off.

“Bart said some of the client files were a mess. He said money was unaccounted for. He thought Jason was to blame.”

“No!” The very idea was repellent. “Jason wouldn't steal.”

The old man didn't seem to hear her. His eyes were wide and a little frightening in their intensity. “Bart accused Jason of embezzlement. He wouldn't listen to any defense. Lina tried to correct him, but he was determined. He thought he knew it all. But he didn't. He didn't.”

Sheldon's chin quivered. Tears started in his eyes. He looked like a hurt child. “It wasn't Jason. It was me.”

Kate could only stare at him. “You? But why?”

“My mind.” He pressed his clenched fists to his head. “It's not working right anymore. I muddle things. But Bart Gordon was so sure. He told Jason he was fired—said he'd make sure no company would hire him. Sent him away.”

And Jason, seeing nothing but failure in his future, had succumbed to a way out of his pain. Whether he'd intended to or not, he'd taken his own life. But...

“You said Bart thought there was money missing. No matter how muddled you were, you wouldn't steal from the company you'd built.”

Tears were streaming down his face now, and his lips trembled. Her heart twisted, but she had to know all of it, once and for all.

“That's what Chief Whiting said when I told him. But how do I know what I would do when I can't make my mind work?” He hit his knuckles against his head.

Kate grasped his hands, holding them in hers. “It's all right. It was probably all a mistake.” It was the only thing she could say that might comfort him a little.

But what was going to comfort her? Jason had been driven to his death by false accusations. Mac had known the truth, and he hadn't told her.

She'd not only lost her brother. She'd lost the man she might be beginning to love.

* * *

I
T
WASN
'
T
UNTIL
the next afternoon that Mac managed to take a breath and get away from the station. Bolt had done the smart thing and remained silent, only speaking to ask for a lawyer.

But once his car had been searched and the evidence began to roll in, he'd looked increasingly uneasy. Finally he'd consulted his attorney and agreed to a plea bargain. He'd give them the information they wanted in exchange for a break on the charges. Once the DA was satisfied, he'd headed off to his office, exultant at having something positive on his record.

In the meantime, Mac could shift his attention to something else. Or rather, someone else. He wanted to talk to Kate about what had happened with Bolt. And incidentally, find out what she'd been doing at the Lamplight last night.

He took a chance that she'd be at the cottage, rather than going in to work today. Sure enough, Kate opened the door to his knock. She'd shed the sling but held her arm a bit awkwardly, as if any unwary movement might cause pain.

“Mac.” She didn't seem overjoyed to see him. “Come in. I wanted a word with you.”

“I've been tied up with the case against Bolt.” He walked inside. “I see you're doing without the sling. Are you sure that's a good idea?”

She gave a slight shrug and then winced. “The doctor said I could start moving it more today. But I'm not attempting to haul any boxes of books around just yet.”

Barefoot, in jeans and a loose shirt, she looked as if she might have been resting, but he saw that the computer was on, with Jason's face frozen on the screen.

He nodded toward it. “Kristie's notes—are they helping?”

“Yes. She did a good job.” Kate's fingers hesitated over the keys, and then she clicked the file closed. She turned to face him. “Has Bolt admitted to anything?”

“He's too much an old hand at this game to admit to anything until he saw a chance to make a trade. But we have the evidence to put him away on drug charges as well as the attack on Larry. His car trunk looked like a pharmacy warehouse, and the baseball bat he used on Larry had enough trace evidence to convince a jury. So he decided to cooperate in exchange for some consideration from the DA.”

“What about Jason? Does he admit to supplying him with the drugs?” Her fists clenched until the knuckles were white. Obviously this was the only important factor to her. She hadn't even asked about the attack on herself.

“No. He denies it.” He hated disappointing her—hated not being able to give her the answers she so desperately needed.

Anger flared in her eyes. “But...if he confessed to the rest, why would he hold back on that?”

He leaned against the back of the sofa, trying for a casualness he didn't feel. “I wish I knew. It's possible he's afraid of even more serious charges being brought if he supplied the instrument of Jason's death. Or it might just be true.”

“Then where...” Kate stopped, shoving her hair back with a frustrated gesture. “I suppose I'll have to be satisfied with less than the full story.”

“You haven't even asked about either of the attacks on you.”

She rubbed her shoulder. “I haven't forgotten. It just...doesn't seem to matter so much.”

“It matters to me. We questioned him thoroughly about both incidents, but he insists he wasn't involved. He claims Larry's been moving a few pills for him, and Larry tried to run you down that night at the Lamplight. Says Larry was scared out of his wits when you started asking questions.” Bolt hadn't put it quite that way, but Mac saw no reason to quote him.

“But why?” She seemed honestly puzzled. “How was I a threat to Larry? And we know he can't have attacked me at Blackburn House, because he was in the hospital.”

“It didn't make much sense to me, either, until Bolt said that Larry was afraid Jason might have said something about Larry pushing pills on his video journal.” At her startled gaze, he nodded. “Yeah, Bolt says Larry knew all about the journal. Apparently Jason didn't make a secret of it.”

“So anyone could have known.”

He nodded. “But the laptop with the diary on it disappeared when the place was cleared out. His father had packed everything up and taken it even before the funeral. It wasn't accessible until you came back to Laurel Ridge.”

“Larry must have been the one to wipe my computer then.”

“That's what I figure. He's being released from the hospital tomorrow, and he'll be coming straight to the station to make a statement. Not even his doting mother can protect him this time.”

Kate nodded, looking down at the photograph of Jason that stood next to the computer. It almost seemed she'd lost interest in both Bolt and Larry, and he didn't understand it.

“Look, this is good news, isn't it? So, what's wrong?” He moved closer, wanting to pull her around to face him but afraid of her reaction. “You're holding out on me, Kate. What is it?”

Her head came up at that. “I'm holding out on you? Don't you have that the wrong way around?”

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“Russell Sheldon.” She said the name with heavy emphasis, her eyes hard as ice. “I had a call last night from Sheila. He's in the hospital. Did you even know that? But he wouldn't rest until he'd talked to me. Maybe he didn't trust you to let me in on what he'd told you. He'd have been right, wouldn't he?”

“Look, Kate, I don't know what he told you, but...” She'd found out, and in the worst possible way.

“He told me what he'd told you. That Bart Gordon accused my brother of theft. He threatened to ruin his future. And he did, didn't he? Because after that, Jason didn't have a future.”

Mac took a breath, struggling to keep his voice even. “Look, I admit, Russ did tell me that story. He also claimed that Jason was innocent and that he'd done it.”

“You should have told me!” She flung the words at him.

“You know as well as I do that Russ's mind can't be relied on. His senility could be prompting him to come up with all kinds of things. And as for believing that he'd steal from his own company—well, that's downright crazy.”

“Obviously. Since he's a pillar of the Laurel Ridge community, he couldn't possibly be guilty of anything. Not if there's a handy outsider to blame.”

Her words were laced with a bitterness that scoured his soul. Mac saw every bit of the relationship that had begun between them crumple into dust at his feet.

“I don't blame Jason. I'm not even sure there ever was any money missing from the accounts. You've seen enough of him to know that Bart's the type to blame first and find out the facts later, if at all.”

“So you're taking the easy way out. Ignore the whole thing. After all, Jason's dead now, so what difference does it make? Well, it makes a difference to me! It makes a difference to that badge you wear that's supposed represents justice. Where is Jason's justice?”

Mac's jaw hardened. “I've been trying to find out the truth. But not by running off half-cocked throwing accusations at people. I'll investigate Russ's claims, no matter who is involved. The law doesn't play favorites.”

“It looks like it to me. It looks like you're doing what you always do. Protecting your town and your people, no matter who else gets hurt.”

Her anger hadn't abated in the least, and his own flamed to meet it.

“At least I'm not trying to find someone else to blame to make up for my own failures.”

He stopped, appalled that he'd lost control of himself. But Kate didn't flinch.

“Get out.” She spoke quietly. “Just get out. I came here to do a job, and I'm going to do it. Alone. I don't need your help, and I don't want it.”

They'd left themselves with nothing else to say, it seemed. Mac turned and walked away.

* * *

K
ATE
SPENT
MOST
of the night wondering if it was time to give up and leave Laurel Ridge. She'd put on a show of bravado with Mac, but the truth was that there seemed little else she could do.

Bolt was in police hands. They'd find out what they could, but obviously the DA would be interested in putting Bolt away, not in satisfying her need to know why Jason had done what he'd done. And Larry was in a similar state. She didn't cherish any belief that she'd be able to question him before the police did. Probably, like Bolt, he'd say whatever he could to get the least sentence for himself.