School's Out for Murder (Schooled in Murder Book 2) (11 page)

After a quick stop for donuts, Emily and Tad were ringing Amelia's doorbell. When she had returned to town, she had purchased a pretty, ranch-style home in a well-established neighborhood within walking distance to her practice. Mature maple trees provided pockets of shade on the wide front lawn. The flower beds were empty of flowers though, a testament to the home's workaholic owner.

Trent answered the door. His eyes were shadowed and his hair a tousled mess. He looked utterly exhausted as he motioned for them to come into the sunny living room. Amelia was pacing, reminding Emily of Maclaine's stalking of Susanna's hospital room. As soon as Amelia saw Emily she rushed forward to grab her in a tight hug and then pulled her down next to her on the sofa. "I'm so glad you're here! I've been going stir crazy for information."

Emily was relieved to see that Amelia looked no worse for her time spent in a jail cell. Her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she had even applied a little bit of makeup. She was dressed for work, and Emily wondered if sitting at home was giving her too much time to think. She looked anxious, and underneath her put-together appearance, Emily could see the worry creases marring her otherwise smooth brow and could feel the slight tremor in the hands that gripped hers. "You first," she said, squeezing those icy cold fingers. "Why did the police arrest you? What evidence did they think they had?"

Amelia flopped back against the sofa pillows, and then just as quickly hopped back up to pace some more. "Apparently, a note was recovered from the scene of the crime," she began, not noticing Emily's guilty wince. How could she have known she was providing evidence that the police would use to arrest Amelia? "Due to the rumor going around town that I'm having an affair with Larry McBain, the police wanted to search my home and office. They didn't find anything here, but they said that the paper I carry in my office at the practice was a match to the paper the note was written on."

"How could they tell?" Emily asked, wondering how they could possibly match the simple white paper definitively.

Trent ran a soothing hand down Amelia's back as he returned from the kitchen with a cup of coffee that he pressed into her hands. "Can I get you anything?" he asked Emily and Tad, who both shook their heads. He then took over the story, saying, "Amelia stocks a special kind of paper with a distinctive watermark that the local bookstore orders specifically for her."

"I only keep it at the office for patient correspondence," Amelia explained, settling back down on the couch beside Emily. "I got the idea from a conference I attended. I would never have imagined such a small decision could become a matter of life and death for me."

"Amelia," Emily said, looking her friend directly in the eyes, "I hate to tell you this, but I'm the one who found that note. It was just a scrap, and I didn't notice the watermark. I'm so sorry that I made things worse for you.

Amelia shook her head. "Please don't feel bad, Emily. Of course you had to turn it over to the police. There's no way you could have known that paper came from my office. You and I both know I didn't write that note."

"So who could have gotten ahold of a piece of paper from your office?" Tad asked her.

"That's just it! Anyone. Any of my patients. I don't lock my office. I'm busy with more patients than I can really handle. When one patient is waiting in one room, I'm working on a patient in another. If someone wanted to get a piece of paper from my office, it wouldn't be difficult. And anyone who is my patient would know that I use that special paper."

"Someone like Larry McBain," Trent suggested.

"Exactly," Amelia confirmed.

"Not to add even more complications to things, but I think you should know what happened to me last night." Emily then went on to tell them all about the supposed meeting and getting stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel, along with what Dinah Moore had told her, concluding with her belief that whoever set the fire at Susanna's was the same person who left her stranded.

"Thank goodness you told Greg what you had planned," Amelia told her. "Whoever did this to you would have had no way of knowing you didn't have a phone on you."

"True," Emily conceded.

"I think we should all be very grateful whoever it was didn't try to harm you in any way, Emily," Trent added.

"I've been thinking about that," Emily told them. "It's like they wanted to be sure I was out of the way long enough to set the fire. But why me? What did they think I knew? I had no idea someone was going to set fire to Susanna's house. And they can't be trying to frame me because obviously I couldn't have started the fire if I was stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel. Not that I would have any reason to anyway," she added.

"I'm so lost," Amelia said quietly. "Nothing seems to add up."

"Except for Larry," Trent pointed out. "He had easy access to the paper in your office. And from what Emily's told us, his truck was possibly seen on Susanna's street, and he told Maclaine that's where he was headed."

Emily's attention had drifted as soon as Trent mentioned Larry. Try as she might, she just couldn't come up with a reason as to why Larry would want to hurt Susanna, and she admitted as much to the assembled group. "But what if…?" she started, and then stopped. No, what she was thinking seemed a bit far-fetched, even for her.

"What is it, Pit?" Tad asked her.

"What if someone was actually after Larry? Maybe someone knew he was going by to talk to Susanna, or they saw his truck there, and Susanna was just collateral damage. Maybe whoever started the Ferris wheel wasn't trying to get me out of the way, but rather just trying to scare me. We've been assuming the two events were related, but what if their only connection is the person responsible for them?"

"So maybe what we should be asking," Trent pointed out, "is who would want both Janice
and
Larry McBain out of the picture?"

There was silence as each of them considered the possibilities. "If it all goes back to someone unhappy with some initiative of the mayor's, maybe the news that Larry is going to run for office has whoever killed Janice worried that he will carry on with her plans. Maybe they wanted Larry out of the way to ensure those plans never came to fruition?" Tad asked.

"Or maybe it all goes back to one of the most basic motivations for any crime," Trent said. When they all looked at him, wondering what he was driving at, he added, "Money."

"Money?" Emily asked.

"Yes, money. Think about it. Maclaine Forrester comes home and gets a job with the school district. Maybe she needed more money than that job could provide. What if she got rid of her aunt, thinking that she would be the sole inheritor of Janice's estate if her aunt had written him out of the will because of his affair? And then, maybe she decided to get rid of Larry just to be sure there was no one left to contest the will. I mean, what do we really know about Maclaine anyway? She could have seen the paper Amelia uses lying around the house since she still lives at the McBain home. You said you do pretty frequent mailings and Larry was a patient, right?" he asked Amelia. When she nodded, he added, "And she could have set the fire last night."

"Actually," Tad corrected him, "I was with Maclaine last night at the time the fire started." Emily perked up, waiting to hear what else Tad had to say about his time with Maclaine. "We were working up at the school on the Mathletes budget until late. When we both headed out, we saw the fire and heard the sirens. So unless she can be in two places at the same time, Maclaine's not our culprit." Emily tried to suppress the little niggle of disappointment that Maclaine was definitely not the one responsible for these horrible and convoluted acts.

Trent shrugged. "It was just a thought. Nothing else seems to make any more sense."

"Frankly, I'm tired of thinking about it. I just want my life to go back to normal," Amelia said with a sniffle.

"I know, baby," Trent told her, giving her a quick shoulder rub.

"I think I'm going to go into work for a little while for a change of scenery," she announced. "Thank you guys for coming by," she told Emily and Tad.

Emily grabbed Amelia in a tight hug. "Whatever I can do for you, you know you just have to ask," she told her dear friend.

"I know, and believe me, I'm grateful," Amelia assured her.

"We're both grateful she has such great friends," Trent added.

Promising to call if they found out anything new, Tad and Emily let themselves out. Back out on the sidewalk in the sunshine, Emily asked, "What now?"

"Well," Tad said slowly, looking out at the quiet street, "I know you already tried to talk to Larry, but it seems like things just keep circling back to him. If we're truly determined to get to the bottom of things, then I think we need to talk to him again."

"Do you think he's home from the police station yet?" Emily asked him.

"Only one way to find out."

*   *   *

Thirty minutes later, after another stop for caffeine fortification and a quick call to check in with Gabby and Greg, Emily found herself once again on the McBain front porch admiring the beautiful double doors. As she reached to press the doorbell, she noticed that one of the doors was slightly ajar. Pointing out the open door to Tad, she asked, "Should we ring the doorbell or go on in?" She was suddenly fearful of what they might find on the other side. With all the catastrophic events that had occurred in the past couple of days, she was on constant high alert, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Could something have happened to Maclaine?

Tad reached around her and pushed the door open wider, calling out, "Maclaine? Larry?"

Hearing nothing, they leaned in the open door and called again. Tad was pulling out his phone, ready to call for help if necessary, when Emily thought she heard the sound of someone crying. She held up her hand for silence and eased her way into the foyer. Calling out again, she headed toward the hallway Maclaine had led her down the other night, the one leading to the kitchen. This time she was certain she heard the sounds of sobbing. Grabbing Tad's hand, she hurried forward to the kitchen.

Skidding around the corner, Emily spotted Maclaine curled up on a bench in the breakfast nook, her head on her arms as she cried disconsolately.

"Maclaine?" Emily spoke softly, not wanting to startle her. Still, Maclaine sprang up like a jack-in-the box, her hand going to her throat.

"Hey, you okay?" Tad asked, moving toward her. Emily stood back and gave him room, figuring Tad would be able to calm her better than she could.

"I'm sorry. You scared me," Maclaine said shakily, pushing at her hair, which was falling forward, long blonde strands sticking to her tear-wet cheeks. "How did you get in?"

"The door wasn't closed all the way," Tad told her, reaching for a paper towel on the kitchen counter and handing it to Maclaine.

"John must not have shut it completely when he left," Maclaine said, scrubbing at her face. She collapsed back onto the bench in the breakfast nook, dejection evident in her every move.

"Who's John? Your boyfriend?" Emily asked, sliding onto the bench across from her. Maybe she'd finally learn something about this boyfriend of Maclaine's.

"No. John is my aunt and uncle's lawyer," Maclaine said, then began to cry again.

Of course. That would've been too easy
, Emily thought to herself.

Tad moved to the refrigerator and came back with a cold bottle of water. Opening it, he pushed it into Maclaine's hands. "Here, drink this and catch your breath. Then you can tell us what happened and maybe we can help."

Instead of drinking, Maclaine began to turn the bottle in circles on the table, leaving ring upon ring of moisture behind. "I'm afraid no one can help at this point," Maclaine said, not looking at either one of them.

"We can try," Emily told her, reaching over to pat one of her hands. "Really, we're here to help." She kept her gaze steady on Maclaine until she finally turned her tear-drenched eyes to Emily's. Maclaine gave an imperceptible nod.

"After leaving Susanna's, I came back here to see if Uncle Larry was home yet. But when I got here, John, John Swartz, was waiting on the front porch. He wanted to talk to me about Aunt Janice's will." Tears began once again to make their silent way down her cheeks.

"What did he tell you, if you don't mind my asking?" Tad said.

She shook her head and swiped at her eyes with the now ragged paper towel. "I just don't understand," she said, as if imploring them to make things clear to her. "He told me that Aunt Janice came to him a week ago and wanted him to help her rewrite her will."

"Why?" Emily asked, though she was afraid she already knew the answer.

"Apparently she'd bought into those ridiculous rumors that have been circulating about Uncle Larry having an affair with that dentist. She said that if proof was found that Uncle Larry was cheating on her, then he wouldn't be entitled to a penny of her estate. She wanted to leave everything to me. I—" Her words trailed off as if she was too exhausted to carry on. She put her head back down on the table, her silky hair curtaining her face.

"But did she have proof?" Tad asked, pushing back a lock of hair so he could see Maclaine's face.