Murdered in the Man Cave (A Riley Reed Cozy Mystery) (21 page)

"I am certainly grateful that Emily and Tony
will be set free, absolved of any guilt for Brent's murder," I told
him sincerely. "I'm just a bit shaken that Karla, who seemed to
have her whole life ahead of her, would end it this way."

"That's the point," the detective muttered.
"She didn't have her whole life ahead of her, at least not as a
free woman. Ms. Terrell must have come to this conclusion and
reacted in a way that she felt may have been in her best
interest."

Again, I was tongue-tied trying to make sense
of it, even though I had once believed Karla was possibly Brent's
killer. Was it wise to have second thoughts now? Or were they
completely justified, given the questions swirling in my mind?

"You said Karla left a suicide note. Was it
handwritten?"

"Typed," he responded matter-of-factly.

"Doesn't that strike you as odd?" I
asked.

"Why should it? No one writes anything these
days. Typing a suicide note makes perfect sense, since you can make
sure everyone understands exactly what you're trying to say."

"It's also quite convenient if she was pushed
off the balcony," I told him.

His brows stitched. "There you go again, Ms.
Reed, playing armchair detective. Or, perhaps, thinking of murder
mysteries in scripted television series. There's no indication that
Ms. Terrell was a victim of foul play. It is what it is, I'm
afraid."

Though I felt he was patronizing me, I
couldn't really blame him, given that I wasn't in the business of
solving real life mysteries and he was. I supposed that I had to
accept the fact that Karla Terrell had murdered Brent and, consumed
with guilt or fear of detection, chose to take her own life as
well.

"I appreciate you dropping by with this
news," I told him candidly.

"I thought you deserved to hear it from me,"
Whitmore said. "Well, I'll let you get back to what you were doing
while we wrap up the rest of this case so Brent London can rest in
peace, knowing his killer will no longer harm anyone else."

I showed him out the door.

No sooner had I done so and before I could
give further thought to this latest twist in the murder of Brent,
my cell phone rang.

It was Emily. "Tony and I are being set
free," she said ecstatically.

"Yes, Detective Whitmore just shared the good
news with me," I told her.

"Thank you so much for believing in us when
no one else seemed to."

"You're welcome. Having the wrong people in
custody would have been an injustice for everyone, particularly you
and Tony."

"They're saying that Karla Terrell confessed
to killing Uncle Brent."

"Yes, I heard that," I said.

"How could she do such a thing?" Emily asked
angrily.

I considered the question and came to a
painful but realistic conclusion. "Assuming she did kill Brent, we
may never know what drove her over the edge." Though I could think
of some reasons, none of them seemed to rise to that level, even if
I knew most killers did not think rationally when perpetrating
homicides.

"At least it's over now and we can home and
return to our lives."

"Would you like me to pick you up?" I thought
to ask.

"Thanks, but Mr. Resnick will be driving us
home," she said. "But please drop by the house, Riley, and help us
celebrate," she requested.

"I'd be happy to," I told her. They were
entitled to a celebration after being released from what could have
only been an unpleasant detention.

I just wished I was in a celebratory mood. As
it was, with Karla now dead, I definitely had more questions than
answers as to why, and whether or not a killer might still be on
the loose.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

I spent an hour at Brent's house, which Emily
had inherited. She felt enormous relief at being set free, as did
Tony, both of whom had been vindicated, thanks in large part to
Karla's suicide and confession. Though I shared their satisfaction
at no longer being considered the prime suspects in Brent's murder,
I must confess that I still had lingering doubts that Karla had
killed Brent, even if I had nothing to justify those qualms that I
could put a finger on. The pieces of the puzzle simply didn't seem
to add up, though I had once believed Karla might have been guilty
of the crime.

But for Jonathan Resnick, having his client
cleared was more than enough to cause him to do a little dance as
Tony played his guitar triumphantly. Jonathan even went so far as
to offer me a job as an investigator for his law practice, giving
me full credit for compelling the police to reopen the
investigation into Brent's death. Though certainly flattered, I
respectfully declined, quite happy to be an authority on home décor
and renovation.

That night, I tried to take my mind off
Karla's confession and death by getting back to reading Pierce's
latest mystery novel, which was quite intriguing. The more I read,
the more it struck me as having a familiar storyline and use of
words. It was early in the morning before I completed the book,
which was exceptional and suspenseful right to the very end. But
the feeling that I had read it before persisted. Was that even
possible? If so, how? Pierce had not sent me an advance copy.

On a whim, I began leafing through the first
edition collection of Brent's novels, looking for a similar plot. I
found none, though the similarities in writing style were hard to
ignore. I wanted to chalk this up to the student mimicking the
teacher, given Brent and Pierce's relationship. But there seemed to
be something more disturbing.

Then a light bulb went off in my head.

I remembered that a couple of years ago Brent
had e-mailed me a copy of a rough first draft of a mystery novel. I
had given it a cursory glance, made a few notes, read some more,
and gave him my preliminary appraisal.

He had apparently had a change of heart and
moved on to an entirely different story.

I hadn't looked at the rough draft again
since.

I went to my computer and pulled up the novel
titled
Killer on the Prowl
. I'd kept it in a folder with
other digital copies of novels Brent had sent me.

Looking through it, the titles, names, and
setting were different, but comparing it with Pierce's novel,
Before He Strikes Again
, it was pretty clear that it was the
same novel. Through some means, Pierce had taken Brent's mystery
novel and plagiarized it as his own.

Had he honestly felt that changing the
character names and town would mask the fact that it was not an
original work of fiction?

Had Brent, burdened with the early effects of
Alzheimer's disease, somehow discovered the theft of his work?

Did this lead to murder when Pierce, long in
Brent's shadow, realized he was caught and would be ruined if he
didn't silence Brent for good?

I took a step back, not wanting to believe
Pierce would take such drastic measures, all in the name of selling
copies of a novel, along with fame and fortune. But the facts
certainly seemed to suggest this was more than just a possibility.
Pierce would have had access to Brent's computer and his house. He
could have stolen the draft practically right under Brent's nose.
Then when he was caught red-handed pretending the novel was his own
and, under threat of exposure and humiliation, he entered the home
and bludgeoned him to death. Moreover, Pierce could have taken
Brent's laptop so the manuscript could not be retrieved by the
police or anyone else; having already covered for it missing from
Brent's house by suggesting that he was known for misplacing and
losing his laptop at restaurants and other places where Brent often
worked.

Then I thought about Karla allegedly
confessing to killing Brent before taking her life. Had she really
murdered him? Or did someone just want it to look that way?

I wondered if there was a connection between
Pierce and Karla. Had they known each other before or during her
relationship with Brent? Had Pierce used her to go into Brent's
computer and steal the draft of his novel without him being the
wiser until Pierce tried to pass it off as his own?

I tried to recall Karla's words when I saw
her at the Smooth and Mellow lounge.

"Men can be such jerks sometimes. Especially
writers—they're so full of themselves."

Could she have been referring to Brent
and
Pierce? Had she been seeing both of them at the same
time? Or was she cheating on Brent with Pierce?

I then remembered Karla saying at the lounge:
"We all have things to hide—some of us are just better at it
than others."

Had she been referring to the fact that
Pierce had stolen Brent's novel while he pretended to be the
legitimate author?

Or could she have meant something even more
nefarious, such as Pierce murdering Brent to keep him quiet?

If so, could Karla have somehow discovered
Pierce's secrets and perhaps threatened to expose him, thereby
making her expendable?

But why would Pierce have created Karla's
fake confession to Brent's murder when Emily and Tony were already
in custody charged with the crime?

The various scenarios and questions were
starting to give me a headache. But I couldn't let it go. If Karla
did not kill Brent or herself, then the real killer needed to be
revealed and brought to justice.

However, since Pierce had likely covered his
tracks well, were he the killer, and he was friendly with members
of the police department—it was doubtful that the police would
consider him a suspect in Karla's murder, or even Brent's murder
for that matter. Not without strong evidence to that effect.

I did have the original draft of Brent's
novel that would prove, at the very least, that Pierce had
plagiarized it under the guise of his own masterpiece. But that, in
and of itself, wouldn't prove he had killed him. It certainly
wouldn't connect Pierce to Karla and her apparent suicide.

I wanted to call Detective Whitmore and talk
about my fears and theories, but was afraid he would reject them
summarily, given what now seemed like an open and shut case with
Karla Terrell as the culprit in Brent's death as well as her
own.

It seemed like the only way to trust my
instincts was to find a way to connect the dots that may lead right
to Pierce O'Shea's door.

* * *

I drove to the apartment complex where Karla
lived, having gotten the information from a news report. Luisa was
able to give me her apartment number, which she had located amongst
Brent's belongings.

The building itself was five stories and was
a relatively new development on the east side of Cozy Pines. Karla
lived in apartment number 375. I walked up three flights of stairs,
bypassing the elevator.

When I came to Karla's apartment, I noticed
that some flowers had been left by the door. It seemed like a
fitting way to honor her memory for someone who had cared about
her. But I couldn't help but wonder if they had been left by her
killer who likely believed he was free of suspicion.

I knocked on the apartment next door, not
sure if it was the right one or not. When the door opened, I had my
answer.

An elderly man stood there with the aid of a
cane. "Can I help you?"

"Mr. Frazier?" I asked, even though I
recognized him.

"Yes, do I know you?"

"My name is Riley Reed. I do volunteer work
at the Senior Center. I served you there last Friday when you came
with Karla Terrell."

"Oh yes, I remember you," he said, touching
his glasses.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you for a
few minutes...about Karla."

He nodded and invited me in. The place was a
bit cluttered, but tidily so.

"I can't believe she's gone," he said
solemnly.

"Neither can I," I admitted.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked,
sitting on a well-worn couch.

"Thank you," I said as I sat down beside him.
"I could tell that Karla really cared about you."

He nodded. "It worked both ways. She said I
reminded her of her grandfather. And she was like the granddaughter
I never had."

"Did Karla strike you as someone who would
take her own life?" I asked pointblank.

Mr. Frazier removed his glasses and wiped
away tears. "I never would have thought she would kill herself, and
I can't believe she had it in her to kill anyone else. Sure, Karla
had her problems, but she was full of life and had too much life
left to live to end it all this way."

"What types of problems did she have?" I
probed.

He shrugged. "The usual ones for young
people: money and relationship problems."

Neither of these took me by surprise,
considering the fact that Karla's relationship with Brent had
ended, along with his generosity, no doubt, before his death.

"Was she currently seeing someone?"

"There was a young fella she had been
spending time with," he responded. "And it seemed like they really
liked each other. But, similar to her previous involvement with the
writer who died, this one seemed like it was going nowhere."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

Mr. Frazier sighed. "They started arguing a
lot. My hearing isn't what it used to be, but the walls around here
are thin enough to pick it up. Can't say what the arguing was
about, but Karla didn't seem very happy."

I turned toward him. "Can you describe what
this man looked like?"

"Sure." He gave me a description that sounded
a lot like Pierce O'Shea.

I took my cell phone out of my purse and
pulled up a photo that I had taken with Pierce. "Is this the man
Karla was dating?"

Mr. Frazier peered at the image through his
glasses. "Yep, that's him."

I gazed at the weathered face of Karla's
neighbor. "Are you sure?"