If Hooks Could Kill (25 page)

C
HAPTER
36

Detective Heather walked across the backyard while the film crew and actors watched. “I don’t understand,” the director said. “It’s a piece of garbage. A broken plastic bottle.”

“Do you want to explain or should I?” I said to Detective Heather.

“I’ll handle this,” she said stepping in front of me. “This piece of garbage proves that Stone Thomasville shot his sister. She pointed out the label, which though damaged still clearly showed that it was the coconut water energy drink, Stone was touting. “It wasn’t available for sale anywhere, so the only way the bottle could have gotten there was if he’d brought it.” She pointed to the missing bottom and explained he’d used the juice bottle to make a homemade silencer, which was why nobody heard the shot. It must have flown off the gun and gone out through the open sliding glass door and lodged in the row of poplar trees.

“If I hadn’t seen a photo from a murder book,” I said, “I wouldn’t have know what it was.”

Detective Heather stepped in again. “Since he probably was drinking from it, we’ll be able to get DNA evidence to back it up. Through ballistic fingerprinting we were able to ascertain that the gun used to kill Kelly Donahue was also used to kill the liquor store employee. If we can tie Stone Thomasville to Kelly’s murder, we can tie him to the other as well.” Then Heather did something that completely surprised me. She gave me a high five. “With this piece of evidence, I am sure the charges will stick.”

“Is this scene ever going to get finished?” Nanci said. Detective Heather bagged the evidence and stepped out of the way. The whole process of settling the crowd started again and the director yelled for action. This time it went through without a hitch. At the end of the scene, Jeffrey rode his bike across the driveway as North took off down the street.

“That’s a wrap,” the director called with relief in his voice.

Mrs. Shedd was so excited about all the business the production had brought to the bookstore, she was more than happy to have them throw the wrap party there. It was late, well after our regular closing time. Bob had made treats and they even brought in my son Samuel to work as a second barista.

When the party began to break up, my cell phone went off in my pocket and for once I heard it. It was my son Peter. “You have to take North home with you,” he ordered.

I went over into a corner. “I’m not doing it unless you tell me what’s going on.”

Peter groaned and then finally spilled the story. It seemed North had a bunch of phobias connected with cars. He didn’t drive and he only could ride on certain streets. Anything with too much traffic sent him into a panic. Good luck on that one in L.A., even in the Valley. He was always driven to and from the set in a limo, but he would only ride with a certain driver who knew his problems. Every now and then, there was a screwup and that driver didn’t show up.

“Then he calls me,” Peter said. “So, now you know. Please take him home with you and I’ll pick him up.”

The drive home with North gave me a chance to ask him why he had lied about knowing Kelly. His answer floored me. He hadn’t lied. It was almost worse. He had no memory of their relationship. All he said was something to the effect that there were so many women, it was hard to keep track.

C
HAPTER
37

Since I’d been the one to find the piece of evidence that positively tied Stone to his sister’s death and the liquor delivery guy’s, Detective Heather let me watch when they confronted Stone with the news. He didn’t even ask for his lawyer, but had begun to talk and talk. It seemed like he thought if he explained what happened, the cops would understand and make some kind of deal.

As if that was going to happen.

I was in an outer office viewing it all on a screen. “You don’t know what it’s like,” he complained. “One minute you’re a professional athlete with sponsors dumping money in your lap, winning tournaments that dump more money in your lap and then you get a little older and it all disappears. You end up signing surfboards, being the surfer pro at some beachfront hotel and struggling to keep afloat.

“But then you discover there are people who like to hang out with movie people and athletes, like the guy in Northridge. He thought it made him look like a big shot. He had so much stuff and so much money. The whole place was done in expensive antiques. He had tons of jewelry, a huge coin collection, and all kinds of expensive doodads. He never paid much attention to any of it as far as I could tell. I was sure he wouldn’t miss a piece of jewelry here and there and some coins from his collection so I began supplementing my income by taking something now and then. Eventually he did notice some things were missing, but he blamed it on the maid and fired her. I was just going to make one last score and figured if he noticed the ring missing, he’d think the maid took it before he fired her. It was before the guests were to arrive on party night and the guy from the liquor store had made a delivery and was looking for our host. Instead he caught me going through a drawer.”

Stone took a deep breath before continuing because this was the big moment that changed everything. The delivery guy realized what Stone was doing and decided to help himself to a piece of jewelry, too. The problem was their host walked in on them. In a moment of panic, Stone had picked up the huge geode and knocked the host on the head. As he fell, he’d hit his head again on the corner of a table. When they checked, he had no pulse.

To make it look like a robbery gone bad, Stone and the liquor store delivery guy had taken a bunch of stuff. They’d taken the whole coin collection, the Tiffany lamp, a bunch of other collectibles and the watch off the guy’s arm. The plan was to stash all of it in a storage unit and leave it there. Stone rented it, but the guy insisted on having one of the keys. Stone had felt safe when the cops seemed sure the maid had killed her boss as revenge for firing her. There was nothing to tie him to the murder.

“Just before I moved to Hawaii, I went to check on the locker and saw that some stuff was missing. That jerk had the authentic Tiffany lamp on a card table. He was wearing the Rolex. When I objected and said we had to keep the stuff hidden he started threatening me, saying I was the one who had killed the wealthy guy. He could go to the cops and turn me in and look like a hero.” Stone stopped talking at that point. Detective Heather had to fill in for him.

“You knew he had a gun, didn’t you?” she said. “You took the bottle of orange juice the guy was drinking and used it as a silencer. Pretty clever of you to know how to improvise like that.” When Stone didn’t say anything, she prodded him. “Isn’t that what happened?”

Stone was looking down and finally mumbled a yes and said that the guy’s gun was sitting in plain sight on a table. “He worked in a liquor store,” Stone said by way of explanation to why the guy had a gun. “And the silencer was nothing. I worked as a production assistant in props. You’d be amazed at the things we had to find or make.” Stone’s voice had grown very soft. “He went to the bathroom and when he came back I had the juice bottle taped on the gun. I shot him before he realized what was happening. I roughed up the apartment and took the Rolex and the lamp, along with some of his stuff, so it would appear he’d been a victim of a home invasion robbery. I dropped the stuff in the storage unit. Then I moved to Hawaii and put it all behind me.”

There were no dimples or smiles as he talked. The expression on his face was hard and I couldn’t believe he had ever seemed adorable. “I was never going to touch any of it, but then the opportunity for this energy drink came up. I didn’t want to be just the face on the bottle. I wanted to be a partner. But that meant investing in the business. Time had passed and I didn’t think any of the coins were traceable.”

When he got to the part about what had happened at Kelly’s it was the same story I’d heard before. He’d killed her because once she knew the leaded glass lamp connected him with a murder, it left him too vulnerable.

By now it seemed as if Stone was in a trance, letting the story fall from his lips. “I used the energy drink bottle as a silencer. It flew off somewhere. I couldn’t find it and figured nobody else would, either. I grabbed the lamp and rushed back to the storage place and put it and the gun in the locker. I got back to the plane just as they were going to shut the door.”

Even though I’d heard some of it before, I was dumbfounded by his confession. How could it be that the self-deprecating surfer was really a serial killer? Everything was resolved, but I couldn’t say it made me happy. A few minutes later, Detective Heather came over to where I was sitting. I thought she was going to thank me, but she was back to her usual self.

“Don’t get any ideas, Nancy Drew. It worked this time, but if I find you mucking around in my business, I’ll nab you for interfering with a police investigation.” She jangled her handcuffs to emphasize her point.

*   *   *

A few days later, I was rushing to get dressed. My suitcase was packed and ready to go. I looked at the big thick envelope with my name, hand done in calligraphy. There was no address on it. In addition to the verbal invitation, Mason had hand delivered a printed one and gotten me to confirm the trip to Carmel.

I’d gotten a new dress. It was peach-colored and ruffly and not at all the kind of thing I usually wore. I’d even gotten some matching heels. It had been down to the wire, but Mason had invited me to his daughter’s wedding. He’d finally opened all the doors to his life. It was what I said I wanted, wasn’t it? I checked myself in the mirror and then grabbed the suitcase before heading to the greenmobile.

The plan was that as soon as the wedding was over, we were leaving to drive up north.

The location Mason and Jaimee finally agreed upon had been staring them in the face all along. Mason’s backyard. Though as I drove up in front, I could see it had been transformed. The whole backyard was tented. I knew they’d put a floor down over the lawn and pool. And that the tent was air cooled and done up as elegantly as any ballroom in the finest hotel.

A valet opened my door when I stopped the car. I got out and for a moment took in the scene. One valet slid in the driver’s seat and another glanced toward the suitcase in the backseat. “Shall I put that in Mr. Fields’ car?” The question hung in the air. What was it that made me turn and look to the other side of the street. I swallowed hard when I saw Barry leaning against his SUV. He was dressed in jeans and a dark green pocket tee shirt.

“Could I talk to you for a moment before you go in?” he said.

I finally knew what I wanted to do, and waved the valet on. He drove past us with the suitcase still in the car. Before Barry could say anything, I spoke. “Mason and I are just going to stay friends—like you and me.”

A look of relief flooded Barry’s face, but it was short-lived as we heard what sounded like a bloodcurdling scream coming from the wedding tent.

*   *   *

Click here for more books by this author.

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Betty Hechtman

HOOKED ON MURDER

DEAD MEN DON’T CROCHET

BY HOOK OR BY CROOK

A STITCH IN CRIME

YOU BETTER KNOT DIE

BEHIND THE SEAMS

IF HOOKS COULD KILL