Murder on Sagebrush Lane (24 page)

68

Harrie watched Katie giggling as Alexis nuzzled her neck, and she knew this was the best possible outcome for the little girl. As soon as that thought came to her, another realization dawned—it made her happy to see Katie so happy. She looked over at Ginger and smiled.

Ginger mouthed the words, “Are you okay?” Harrie nodded and gave her a thumbs up sign.

Caroline sat beside Alexis. “We would be delighted to have you join us for dinner, Alexis. We’d enjoy the chance to get to know you better.”

“That’s so nice of you, Caroline,” Alexis said. “Maybe I could have a rain check. For now, I’d like to get Katie back to my apartment and settled in her room.”

Harrie focused her attention on Alexis. “Will you be taking her back to Denver?”

“No, we’ll be staying at The Landmark. I need to find out what happened to Michael. When we find him, he is going to need my help for quite a while. My apartment has three bedrooms, one of which I furnished for Katie. She spent a lot of time there when Laura was sick. Of course, when Bonnie started to be a problem, Katie and I went to my home in Denver.”

“Speaking of Bonnie, do you mind if I ask you a question?” Harrie chose her words carefully.

“Not at all.” Alexis sat back in one of the easy chairs.

“Did you know Bonnie uses another name?”

For a moment Alexis’ face took on a puzzled look. Then she seemed to realize what Harrie meant. “Oh, right. I’d forgotten about that.” She shook her head and smiled ruefully. “I felt kind of sorry for the girl when her big dream fizzled.”

“So you knew she was also Monica Chambers?” Harrie sounded surprised.

“To be honest, I knew she’d decided to use a different name while pursuing her acting career, but I’m afraid I didn’t remember what it was. In fact, it never occurred to me to tell you that. I didn’t think she still used it.” Alexis looked sheepish. “I suppose that doesn’t speak very well of me. She is, after all, my late husband’s only daughter.”

Harrie smiled. “I don’t blame you at all. Bonnie, or Monica, or however she’s known, is quite a piece of work. I can see why you’d want to distance yourself from her.”

“You know, it bothered me a little when Laura told me about the surrogate arrangement. I was concerned that Bonnie couldn’t be trusted to do what she needed to do. But in the end, she came through.” A faint smile touched her lips. “I guess it couldn’t last, though. Not with Bonnie.”

“Well, she’s in trouble now.” Harrie explained about the mysterious phone calls from Bonnie’s boyfriend, and the sting operation they’d conducted this morning.

“I didn’t think she’d actually go that far.” Alexis stood and picked up her handbag. “I guess it was inevitable.

Ginger spoke up. “From what I understand, her boyfriend dreamed up the idea, and she went along for the ride.”

“Don’t be too sure of that. I gather he’s not the brightest bulb in the pack. I’d be inclined to think Bonnie hatched the scheme, but made him think he came up with it.” Alexis picked up one of the suitcases.

“Caroline, I want to thank you, Harrie and DJ for taking such good care of our Katie this week. She’s obviously quite comfortable with all of you, and I’m so grateful you kept her from entering the foster care system.”

“It was our pleasure.” Harrie picked up the bag of toys. “She’s such a little sweetheart. We enjoyed getting to know her. I hope you’ll let us visit with her sometime.”

“Of course,” Alexis said. “As soon as we find out what happened to Michael . . . .”

Harrie shook her head. “I have a strong feeling we’ll be hearing good news very soon.”

“I hope you’re right.” Alexis had a wistful look on her face. “I can’t believe Katie will lose both parents.”

“Don’t even think that.” Caroline opened the front door. “Listen to Harrie. She gets these feelings often, and we’ve learned to pay attention.”

They all walked out to the curb, and Harrie stopped short. “What a beautiful car.”

Alexis opened the trunk of her sleek, white, BMW. She put the suitcases inside. “Thank you. I guess it’s a bit extravagant, but I wanted something to drive when I was in town. I leave it at the Landmark when I’m in Denver.”

Harrie ran her hand over the car’s satiny finish. “Doesn’t Michael have a dark blue BMW?”

Alexis stopped and looked at her. “Yes, he does. Why do you ask?”

Harrie shot a look at Ginger. “Well, we discovered Michael’s BMW is missing from his garage. It hasn’t turned up yet, and I wondered if you have any thoughts about where it might be?”

Alexis frowned and shook her head. “Not a clue. But he loves that car. He’s the reason I bought this one. I can’t believe he would let it out of his possession.” An alarmed looked passed over her face. “Do you think this has anything to do with what happened to him?”

“There’s no evidence of that,” Harrie said, and quickly added, “Please don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll have good news soon.”

When all the things were loaded, Harrie put Katie in her car seat and goodbyes were said all around. The three of them—Harrie, Caroline, and Ginger—stood at the curb and watched the white BMW drive away. Even after the car went around the corner, they continued to stand for a moment, looked at each other, and then went back inside.

Harrie said, “I’m glad Katie has a family. It was so sad when we thought she was all alone in the world.”

Ginger hugged her, and Harrie grinned. “It’s okay, really.”

“Hi, I’m home.” DJ called out from the kitchen, and Harrie went to greet him.

“Alexis came and took Katie,” she said. At his look, she shook her head. “No, it’s okay. Really. I’m fine. It’s so obvious Katie should be with her grandmother now.” She smiled at him.

He leaned over and kissed her. “Have I told you that you’re wonderful?”

She stroked his cheek. “No, not today.” She returned his kiss.

She backed away from him as she remembered what she’d been dying to tell him. “There’s something I haven’t told you.” She became animated as she began her story.

“I know who the—”

DJ’s cell phone chirped. He held up his hand. “Hold that thought. This is the office. I have to take it.”

Harrie blew out her breath in frustration and turned to Ginger. “I’m going to explode if I don’t get to tell him what we found out.”

“Correction, Lucy, this is
your
theory—not mine.”

“But—”

Ginger held up her hand. “Wait until DJ gets off the phone. I already heard it, and I don’t buy it.”

Harrie frowned and plopped herself down in a chair. “He’d better hurry.”

The doorbell rang and Ginger, with obvious relief, said, “I’ll get it. I’m betting it’s Steve.” She rushed out of the room to forestall further discussion about Harrie’s murder theories.

When she returned, she had both Steve and Swannie in tow. “The rest of our dinner guests have joined us,” she announced triumphantly.

Before the new arrivals had finished their greetings, DJ returned from his phone call.

Harrie popped up from her chair. “I know who the murderer is.”

Swannie and DJ looked at each other. DJ said, “By all means, tell us.”

Harrie folded her arms and sat back in her chair. She related the conversation she and Ginger had with Winnie Devlin that afternoon.

“Hold it,” DJ said. “Why did you go see her? You are not supposed to be anywhere near the murder scene. We talked about this, didn’t we?”

Harrie’s eyes narrowed. “Give it a rest, will you? My stalker is in jail, and I see no reason that I should avoid our neighborhood.”

DJ shook his head. “All right, putting all that aside for the moment, tell us who you think the murderer is.”

“The CIA guy. Colin Crider.”

Swannie and DJ exchanged glances again.

“What?” Harrie frowned.

“Sit back and listen to what I have to tell you. Then you’ll understand.”

By the time DJ and Swannie had related their activities that day, Harrie’s enthusiasm for her theory had dissolved.

“I guess you should have gone first after all.” She put both elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her upturned hands.

DJ reached over and rubbed her shoulder. “Sweetheart, you let your fertile imagination get the best of you. You love a puzzle, but this time you didn’t have all the pieces.”

Harrie leaned back. “Okay then. One of you tell me who the murderer actually is.”

Swannie looked around the table at everyone. “I wish I could. Unfortunately, that remains a mystery.”

69

Friday, June 13

Harrie awoke before the alarm and thought of Katie. She knew she was in the best of hands, but for this entire week, her first thought had been about checking on the little girl. She remembered being a teenager when her grandparents came to visit them from Texas. They would stay a week, and on the morning after they left, Harrie always experienced a pang of emptiness, knowing when she went in for breakfast they wouldn’t be sitting at the table. The similarity between that experience and the one with Katie struck her now.

Tuptim stirred, yawned, and stretched long. Harrie stroked the cat’s ears and kissed the top of her soft, furry head. Then she swung her feet over the side of the bed. No time now for what her grandmother used to call “woolgathering.” She went through her morning routine faster than normal. DJ returned from his run just as she started preparing their breakfast.

“I’ll load the suitcases and bags into your car before I leave for work.” He reached for a coffee mug and filled it.

“I can do that myself,” Harrie said as she buttered the toast. “You have lots to do today, and I think you should get at it as soon as you can.”

“Oooh, you are a tough task master!”

She put the toast on the table, and they sat down to eat. Caroline came in and reached for the coffee pot. “What’s this? You’re being abused?”

“Mother,” DJ said, “have you ever noticed that petite women can be pretty bossy?”

Harrie almost choked on a bite of toast. “I beg your pardon?”

Caroline chuckled. “Never mind him, Harrie. He was single too long and doesn’t appreciate how a wife has to keep her husband focused on the task at hand.”

“Ouch,” DJ said with fake dismay. “No fair ganging up on the downtrodden male.”

They all laughed, and Caroline joined them at the table. “I’m perfectly capable of helping Harrie load her car. You just concentrate on finding this murderer, whoever he is.”

“What makes you so sure it’s a ‘he?’ DJ asked.

“Let me try to answer that one,” Harrie said. “Considering the condition of the body Monday morning, whoever did this had serious upper body strength. The average woman, unless she’s one of those Russian prison-guard types, probably couldn’t have delivered that kind of damage.”

DJ nodded. “Point taken. I see you’ve thought this through. So I guess we can eliminate Bonnie Bellows and Winnie Devlin?”

Harrie shot him a startled look. “Winnie Devlin? I never even considered her. Do you really think she could have murdered that guy?”

DJ picked up his dirty dishes and put them in the sink. “You never discount anybody who falls within the parameters of conceivable suspects. While your observation is excellent, there are factors that could explain a woman’s unusual strength and ability to deliver those kinds of blows. However, speculation at this stage is unwise.”

Harrie grinned at Caroline. “He does that well, doesn’t he?”

Caroline nodded. “He excels at doublespeak. Typical for a lawyer.”

DJ shook his head as he walked out of the kitchen. “Sticks and stones.”

After DJ left for the office, Harrie and Caroline headed out—Caroline for Southwest Editorial Services, and Harrie to deliver their belongings back home before heading to the office herself. She drove east on Academy, glad she was headed that direction and not in the swarm of westbound rush-hour traffic. She tuned her car radio to the Classic Rock station, and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, keeping beat to the old Eagles tune, “Take It Easy.”

By the time she arrived in her driveway, she felt lighthearted and ready to tackle whatever the day held. She pulled into the garage and unloaded the car.

Within half an hour, Harrie had put away their clothes and toiletries, gathered up the laundry, and finished an inventory of her pantry. She completed her grocery list and decided to call Ginger. They were supposed to go shopping this afternoon and she wanted to verify the time

When she picked up the phone, she noticed she’d missed a call earlier that morning. Damn, she missed her answering machine. She’d have to get a replacement soon. She scrolled through the Caller ID list and found the one she’d missed was from an “H. Devlin.”

Devlin? Winnie Devlin?

What possible reason did Winnie Devlin have to call Harrie? Her initial reaction was to simply ignore it. It was probably about the stupid DNA test again, and frankly, Harrie was tired of the entire subject. But as soon as that thought left her head, a strong feeling came over her. She didn’t know how or why, but she knew something was terribly wrong.

She pressed the number on the Caller ID and heard the other phone ring. After ten times, Harrie was ready to hang up. But the ringing stopped abruptly, and she heard what sounded like somebody breathing on the other end.

“Winnie?” Harrie strained to hear a voice.

“Winnie, is that you?” The nerves in the skin of Harrie’s arm tingled.

A voice so soft Harrie could barely make out the words said, “Help me. Someone’s in my house.”

“Who’s in your house, Winnie? Where are you?”

“The bedroom closet.”

“Did you call 9-1-1?”

Harrie heard scuffling sounds and then Winnie’s frightened voice. “Please—no—don’t!” The phone went dead.

A shiver racked Harrie’s entire body, and she stared at the receiver, still dead in her hand. Her senses kicked in, and she dialed 9-1-1.