Shear Trouble (16 page)

Beatrice continued. “What choice did you have, when Frank was being so unreasonable? Maybe the fact that Frank sounded so slurred and unsteady made you feel better about pushing him down the stairs. He was practically falling down the stairs on his own, wasn’t he? He
was so intoxicated that it might even have passed as an accident.”

Beatrice noticed the pie that Phyllis brought over was still on the counter next to the heavy food processor. She rested her hip against the side of the counter and put her hand casually on her hip. “But then I started getting a little close, didn’t I? It must have been worrying you both, having me go to Lenoir to talk to Eric there. The slashed tires were a warning, weren’t they?”

“One you didn’t heed,” grated Phyllis. “Why couldn’t you simply have backed off? There was no need for you to get involved in this at all. It wasn’t any of your business.”

She moved closer and Beatrice took a deep breath. She knocked the pie to the floor and instead of watching the pie’s movement, Beatrice watched Phyllis watch the pie. Phyllis leaned over just a little as if to catch the pie . . . and Beatrice awkwardly twisted to grab the heavy food processor, pull it to the edge of the counter, and drop it on the back of Phyllis’s head and neck.

Phyllis was definitely not knocked out, but she was hurt. She dropped the knife as she fell—it skidded toward the kitchen door leading into the living room and front door. Beatrice ran to grab it but knew that there were plenty of other potential weapons in her kitchen—she needed to get out of the house. Where were her keys?

Phyllis groaned in the kitchen and Beatrice shot a harried glance her way . . . and saw her struggling to her knees. Beatrice spun around frantically. Her keys? Where were they? Finally, shaking, she spotted them on a table near the front door, partially obscured by the Dappled Hills newspaper. She grabbed them, fumbled them, grabbed them again as Phyllis rose to her feet and staggered her way.

Both dogs were barking outside the front door. Beatrice yanked the door open and they bolted inside,
spotted Phyllis, and started snarling at her. “Come on, guys,” called Beatrice, “let’s go for a ride.”

But the dogs wouldn’t budge. All the calling, all the begging, all the promises of treats wouldn’t move them. Beatrice hurried toward the car. They loved to ride—maybe they’d hop in the car if they heard the motor running and her calling them. She had to believe that if Phyllis was determined to kill her, she wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of Boris and Noo-noo.

Beatrice tried to hit the unlock button but couldn’t see which one it was in the dark. She ended up hitting the panic button on the key fob instead. The car fell into a frenzy of honking . . . just as two different sets of headlights pulled into her driveway. Could it be Eric returning? And someone else?

She hit the button again and the doors unlocked. Beatrice yanked open the car door, climbed inside—and heard, “Mama?”

Beatrice was looking into Piper’s worried face and heard Ash call behind them, “Piper? Beatrice? What’s going on?”

Phyllis exploded out of the house, waving one of Beatrice’s kitchen knives in front of her. Noo-noo was nipping at her heels in true corgi herding fashion and Boris leaped around her, making it difficult for Phyllis to move forward.

“Phyllis?” breathed Piper, staring disbelievingly at the wild-looking figure in front of them.

“She tried to kill me,” said Beatrice simply. Her hands trembled as they wrapped around the steering wheel for support.

“Did she?” asked Ash, glaring at Phyllis through narrowed eyes. Phyllis made a slashing gesture with her knife. “Oh, I think we’re shutting this down right now.”

“Ash, be careful. You don’t know what she’s capable of,” said Beatrice.

“Or what I’m capable of,” said a calm voice behind them, and they whirled around to see Eric standing behind them with a gun. “I saw the two cars headed in this direction and thought I should make sure everything was okay.”

“Oh, Eric,” said Phyllis tearfully. “It’s not okay. Can we tie them up and leave town real quick or something? What’s the best thing to do?”

“We
could
do that. Except that as soon as they were discovered, they’d have every cop in North Carolina following us . . . the son of a police chief, after all. I’m thinking we shut them up more permanently.”

Phyllis didn’t look so sure. “What? Three people and two dogs? Because I don’t think the dogs are going to be happy about this.” She gave a nervous glance at Noo-noo and Boris, who were still snarling at both her and Eric.

“I don’t think
I’m
going to be too happy about this,” came Ramsay’s stern voice behind them, and Beatrice turned to see him training a gun on Eric’s back. Miss
Sissy, looking rather wild, and Wyatt were right behind him. “Don’t turn around, Eric. Drop the gun. Drop it. Then put your hands up as far as you can.”

Relief flooded Beatrice’s body and suddenly she felt as if her legs wouldn’t support her any longer. She slumped in her car and Wyatt hurried over to pull her into his arms as Noo-noo and Boris bounded joyfully around Ramsay while he took Phyllis and Eric into custody.

Minutes later when they were all back inside the house, Miss Sissy’s eyes were full of a fierce pride. “I called Wyatt and the police! Called them!”

As Ramsay booked Phyllis and Eric, Beatrice and the others gathered in her small living room. She’d brought out wine for everyone and they were all gratefully drinking a glass—even Miss Sissy, who was reliving with enjoyment the fact that she helped save the day.

Piper, who had collapsed, shaking in Ash’s arms, the moment that Ramsay took control of the situation, said, “What made you decide to call, Miss Sissy? All the cars coming down the street?”

Miss Sissy pointed a skinny, bent finger toward Boris and Noo-noo, who were now eating rawhide treats. “Them! Barking! They were scared . . . terrified! Called the police!”

Beatrice threw Boris and Noo-noo another treat and gave Miss Sissy a hug. Piper continued shivering in the protective circle of Ash’s arms.

*   *   *

It wasn’t long before Meadow joined them, clucking over them all—but shooting pleased looks at the reconciled Piper and Ash. “Ramsay called me,” she said breathlessly as she ran in and hugged everyone. “What a horrid, horrid person that Phyllis is! And Eric . . . a monster. A monster. In our own Dappled Hills!” Meadow was so anxious that she seemed physically incapable of sitting still. Finally, unable to stand doing nothing, Meadow said, “I’m going to make us all something to eat. Wait. Ash, what happened to the food I sent you over here with?”

Ash looked puzzled, and then said, “Ah. That’s right—you wanted me to bring over food. I left it in the car, Mom. You know—after I saw that Phyllis was holding a knife on Beatrice and Piper. It kind of slipped my mind.”

Meadow waved her hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. It’s cold enough outside for the casserole to have kept. I’ll heat it up real well and then we can have a little something to eat.” She bustled out the front door, nearly running into Ramsay as he was on his way in. Meadow gave him an especially tight hug.

“It’s okay, Meadow; it’s okay,” said Ramsay tiredly. “Everyone is safe. Now I need to get a statement from everybody.”

It didn’t take very long for them to relate the events in the order they happened. Miss Sissy interrupted every now and again with “wickedness!”

Once they’d finished, Ramsay snapped his notebook shut. “All right. Guess I’d better get back and start processing this.”

Meadow, working to warm the food up in the kitchen, stepped out into the living room, face red. “You certainly will
not
! You’re going to fill us in on what’s going on. I’ve just spent ten minutes cleaning pie off Beatrice’s floor—pie she had to throw there to get away from the maniacal Phyllis. Tell us what they’ve said.”

Ramsay sat back down again. “Well, they did confess. That’s something.”

“What choice did they have? After all, you caught them red-handed. And Phyllis basically confessed to Beatrice, right?” said Meadow.

“A full confession is still much better than working with someone who is uncooperative. Besides, we didn’t have any actual evidence against them, otherwise.” Ramsay rubbed his forehead as if he was getting a big headache.

Beatrice said, “How about the fact that Phyllis’s story didn’t add up . . . or kept changing? She told me that she left the back room at the retreat. Then she admitted that she hadn’t. She was the one who set up the crime with her shears. And she and Eric are already married—could you prove that? Look it up in the records somewhere?”

“It’s no crime to get married,” said Ramsay gently. “But you were good to pick up on the fact that her story
wasn’t adding up. And you’re right—the fact that those two got married gave them some additional motive. Eric and Phyllis believed that, with Jason out of the way, they’d end up living a more financially comfortable life.”

Beatrice said quietly, “I think we might find there was more than one motive here. Phyllis basically came out and said it was all financial. But Eric is a different story. Eric was more about revenge. He seemed to blame Jason for their mother’s death . . . that she’d died of a broken heart. He and Phyllis had a lot in common, though, and I think that’s what powered their relationship.”

“Who slashed your tires?” asked Wyatt. “Did you find out which of them was behind it? Was it a warning to you, like you were thinking?”

“That was Phyllis. Which was why Noo-noo got so upset when Phyllis visited tonight. And yes, it was a way for her to warn me off.”

Meadow came out of the kitchen with food and plates. “And then Boris followed Noo-noo’s lead. Brilliant!”

“Actually,” admitted Beatrice, “that was very intuitive of Boris, I have to say. It might also have helped that he was on the scene of Frank’s murder. He might have caught Phyllis’s scent there. He changed from a completely placid, happy dog to a menacing brute.
And then for both dogs to keep barking and scratching and making a racket outside the front door . . . well, they saved the day, didn’t they? They made Miss Sissy call Ramsay.”

Miss Sissy looked pleased with herself. “Called the police. Called them.”

Beatrice saw that Wyatt was being very quiet. She reached over and held his hand and he gave her hand a tight squeeze.

Meadow clapped her hands together. “I almost forgot. Did you hear that Martha is setting up an art auction? John’s been helping her put it together. They really do make a nice couple, now that Martha has capitulated and everything. She’s renting out that empty store in downtown. Frank had tons of completed paintings and sculptures, apparently. Who knows why he was so funny about sharing it with the world? Anyway, she’s holding an auction and the proceeds are going to charity.”

Wyatt smiled at her. “That’s a great way to celebrate his life.”

“Isn’t it? I thought that was really nice. And we all wondered if he were just totally mooching off his mother and not really accomplishing anything in his studio. All the while, he was actually working pretty hard.” Meadow shrugged and took a big bite of her casserole. A dark look passed over her face. “Phyllis
and Eric won’t get Jason’s money now, will they? That wouldn’t be right.”

“No, criminals can’t benefit financially from their crimes,” said Ramsay. “But those two wouldn’t have, anyway. They made assumptions that were completely incorrect. Counted their chickens before they hatched.”

Beatrice said, “Jason didn’t leave Eric his money?”

“Well, the will is being executed right now. What will surprise Eric and Phyllis is that Jason left only a smattering of money to his brother, anyway. In fact, we just notified Tony Brock this afternoon that he was the recipient of the bulk of Jason Gore’s assets. Along with some other people that Jason had some shady dealings with in Dappled Hills.” Ramsay grinned at the stunned look on their faces. “That’s right. Looks like Jason was trying to set things right with people he took advantage of. And Tony was surprised and gratified to learn this.”

Now a smile was pulling at Wyatt’s mouth. Beatrice said, “So maybe people
can
change for the better. They can have real regrets and move on and become better people.”

“But what if . . .” Wyatt hesitated. “What if Jason hadn’t died so suddenly? Or what if Tony had predeceased him? Would Jason have continued living off Tony’s grandfather’s money?”

“As a matter of fact, I believe that Jason was working on a way to repay Tony. We found a letter in Jason’s
home . . . a letter that sounded as if it was going to accompany a check of considerable size.” Ramsay smiled at Wyatt, who seemed to be more at peace every second in Beatrice’s small living room.

Ramsay snapped his fingers. “Beatrice, are you enjoying
The Brothers Karamazov
? Meant to ask you about it the other day.”

Beatrice nodded. “Very much. Can I hang on to it for a while longer?”

Ramsay looked pleased. “Of course you can, Beatrice. I’m glad you’re getting as much out of it as I have.” He glanced over at Meadow, who was still beaming at Piper and Ash sitting close together on the sofa, holding hands. “We should probably head on home, Meadow. It’s been a long day . . . for all of us.”

Ash asked Piper, “Want to go grab an ice cream downtown? I think we’ve got an hour before they close.”

Piper smiled at him. “Sounds great.”

Meadow teared up a bit, watching them, and fumbled in her pocketbook for a tissue. “All right, Ramsay, I’m coming. I’ll join you in a second.” Ramsay left and Meadow said, breathlessly, “That went better than I thought! Oh, Beatrice, I’m so thrilled they’re back together!”

Remembering that their two different sets of headlights had arrived simultaneously, Beatrice asked, “Did you arrange for them to get here at the same time?”

“It was easy. I asked Ash to bring you some food,
since you admitted you were having cheese and crackers. And I called up Piper and told her that I’d talked to you and I thought you were uneasy from the tire slashing incident and needed some company.” Meadow was practically dancing in her excitement. “And now they’re off to get ice cream. It worked. It really worked.”

“Maybe a little life-threatening incident was the perfect catalyst to show them life is too short for misunderstandings,” mused Beatrice.

“Maybe so. Well, I guess I should catch up with Ramsay. Oh, Beatrice, did you get the information on the rescheduled quilt show?”

Beatrice said dryly, “Yes, I think I’ve got all the info I need. Phyllis brought me plenty of flyers.”

There was a small toot of the horn outside and Meadow said quickly, “Better run. See you tomorrow, Beatrice.” She grabbed Boris, now back to his happy-go-lucky self, and left.

Only Wyatt remained and he stood to leave, as well. “I’m going to leave you to get some rest. After the day you’ve had, I think you need it.” He enveloped her in his arms, giving her a tight hug and a kiss on her temple as he pulled away. “Say, what book was Ramsay referring to?” he asked curiously. “I’m always looking for something else to read.”

Beatrice grinned and pointed to the tome on the end table near the armchair. Wyatt picked it up, hefting it because of its weight, and flipped through it, eyebrows
raised. “What makes
The Brothers Karamazov
so good?” he asked.

“The fact,” said Beatrice with a smile, “that it helps put me to sleep.”