This Old Homicide (31 page)

“Oh,” Jane sighed, and I knew another little piece of her heart had just broken.

“What would you have done if he were married?” I wondered.

She shrugged. “I’d have had to get rid of his wife.”

Of course she would. I didn’t know what to say to that matter-of-fact response.

“Anyway, Jesse told me how pleased he was to receive such unselfish advice.” She snickered. “He also told me how attractive he thought I was. He gave me his phone number. Shortly after that, I called him and our romance began.”

“That was two years ago?” I asked.

“I had a long-range plan,” she said. “We used to stay at my house, but then I started telling him I wanted to come see him in Lighthouse Cove. He was reluctant because he knew people would talk, but I told him I’d come by boat and no one would ever see me.”

“That must’ve appealed to him.”

“You know it,” she said in her self-congratulatory tone. “The man loved boats. And secrets. And me.” She flashed us a coy smile. “He wanted to buy a half interest in my boat, so I let him.”

Jane and I exchanged a quick glance. That was why Jesse had sold off three of the jewels in the necklace. He wanted to pay Althea for his half of the boat.

She told us she began staying at his house and drugging him to sleep every night so she could search for the necklace. She laughed. “Every morning he would tell me how well he slept. But then one night, he woke up too soon. He saw me going through his drawers, so I told him a little white lie, gave him a hug and a triple dose of sleeping pills.” She shrugged. “It killed him. Too bad, too. I liked him. He was a pretty simple guy with his little white boxer shorts and that salty navy language he used sometimes. He treated me right, though.”

I could feel Jane seething. “You will pay for that,” she said.

I didn’t blame Jane for going off, but I needed Althea to stay cool and keep talking. I prayed that Eric would get my e-mail message soon and track me down here. Maybe the police were waiting outside Jesse’s house right now. If only.

I needed more from her. “Once Jesse was dead, you started searching for real, right? You punched a hole in the wall and pulled up the floorboard.”

“I couldn’t very well do that while he was alive,” she said. “And once he was gone, I knew I had a limited window of opportunity. I started with his office because he spent a lot of time in there. And the kitchen was as likely a hiding place as any. I started getting anxious because he’d been dead for hours now. I checked all the bookshelves and the medicine cabinet and I even searched the basement, but I didn’t like going down there.”

Good thing,
I thought, but didn’t mention that the basement was where I’d found the necklace.

“How did you get inside after Jane had the locks changed?”

She snorted a laugh. “It was pitifully easy to lift her keys from her purse.”

Jane gasped. “You stole my keys?”

“Don’t worry, princess,” she crooned sarcastically. “I brought them back after I made copies.”

“Why did you hurt Bob?” I asked. I was desperate to keep her talking.

“Who says I did?”

“Oh, please. His falling into a diabetic coma has
you
written all over it.” Especially after playing the Scooby-Doo game with Mac, I thought.

She patted her hair, apparently taking my accusation as a compliment.

“I was charmed by Bob, despite myself,” she said. “Jesse apparently boasted of our affair to Ned and Bob, and Bob began living vicariously through his stories. At Jesse’s funeral, Bob introduced himself and told me that he’d already fallen in love with me.”

Ugh. Poor Bob. But then, we had all been fooled by Althea’s personable outer shell.

“I had hoped for a little break after Jesse died, and then Andrew suddenly showed up. I just didn’t have time for Bob.” She chuckled again. “I told him I was grieving, and he understood. He said that whenever I was ready, he wanted to court me. Such a sweet, old-fashioned concept.”

She said it derisively and again, I felt pity for Bob.

“Unfortunately Bob became obsessed and started following me. He saw me go into Andrew’s hotel room but never saw me leave.” She scowled. “When he heard that someone had died in that room, he put two and two together and approached me. I seriously didn’t think he had that much on the ball, but there you go.”

“Did he accuse you of killing Andrew?”

She chuckled. “Yes, but he wanted to protect me. He drove all the way to Blue Point to propose marriage. I realized he’d seen too much and I had to get rid of him. I accepted his proposal and then seduced him into his bed. Then I dosed him with a few extra shots of insulin.”

Her words turned my stomach, but I had to ask, “Did you buy him the silk boxers?”

She laughed gaily. “Yes. I just love the feel of natural fibers against my skin. And as long as he was going to be rubbing himself against me, I figured I might as well enjoy at least one aspect of it.”

I had to look away so she wouldn’t see me cringe. Once, I’d thought she was so genteel, but now she sounded like some tacky broad. I suddenly remembered that I’d bought a jacket in her store! Ugh. If we got out of here alive, I would never wear it again.

“I’ll miss the old guy,” she said sentimentally.

I frowned at her. “He’s not dead yet.”

“Not yet,” she quipped. “It’s too bad he doesn’t have money. I’m pretty sure I could convince him to leave it all to me.”

Abruptly she stopped pacing and stared hard at me. “I’m going to need your key.”

I looked up at her. “I don’t have a key.”

“Oh, really? You don’t have your house key with you? You leave the doors unlocked? Good to know.”

I had my kitchen door key in my jeans pocket, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. “What do you want with my house?”

“Little Miss Jane tells me the necklace is at your bank, so I want your safe-deposit key.”

I snorted a laugh. “You can take the key, but the bank won’t give you access to my safe-deposit box.”

She didn’t like being laughed at and slapped me again.

I hated her for that. If I got out of this, I was going to give her one sharp smack across her arrogant little face.

Maybe two.

“Then you’ll just have to come with me to the bank,” she said, waving the gun to get my attention.

But now she needed me. Maybe I had some leverage. “What’re you going to do if I don’t go with you? Kill me?”

“No, I’ll kill her.” She turned and trained the gun on Jane.

“Stop!” Crap! I hated that she was one step ahead of us. I had to fight back. “If you kill Jane, you’re not getting anything from me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Without warning, she slapped Jane’s face so hard her chair fell backward. I screamed and so did Jane, who was unable to stop the momentum as she tumbled to the floor.

“You make me sick,” I shouted over the hubbub.

“Oh, cram it.” She moved behind me and ripped the tape off my hands. “We’re going to the bank. If you try anything, I’ll make sure Jane dies.”

Suddenly there was a loud pounding on the front door.

“Who the hell is that?” Althea said.

“The police?” I suggested.

“I know you’re in there, Shannon Hammer!” somebody shouted from outside. “Open this door right now!”

Holy crap. I recognized that voice.

“Whitney?”

Jane groaned at the sound of Whitney’s shrill yelling.

“Who is that?” Althea asked sharply.

“She’s a… a woman I know.”

“Get rid of her.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered.

“Make it happen,” Althea snapped, and slipped behind the front door, still aiming her gun right at me.

“Go away, Whitney,” I yelled, hoping that for once she’d take a hint.

Much to my shock, the door burst open instead and Whitney stormed in. Interesting to know it hadn’t been locked all this time.

“There you are!”

“Whitney, what are you doing?” I shouted in her face. “Get out of here!”

“Stop yelling!” She shook her finger at me. “You have pissed me off for the last time.”

Did she have a death wish? Sometimes I wondered. I tried to stay calm. “I said get out—now.”

“I’m not leaving until I tell you exactly what I think of you.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I drove up just as you walked into this house, so I’ve been parked outside waiting for you to come out. And then Jane shows up with that old lady. And you still didn’t come out. What’re you all doing in here?”

I almost laughed at her term for Althea, but this wasn’t going to end well. I could imagine Althea growing more enraged as she waited behind the door for Whitney to leave.

“We’re playing a game,” I explained. It was lame, but maybe she’d buy it.

“I don’t have time for games.”

“Then go home,” I said evenly. “I can’t talk to you just now.”
Please get out of here and call the police,
I thought, trying to send her a mental message. But her head was too thick.

“How dare you?” she said, fisting her hands on her hips in irritation. “You’ll listen to me and like it.”

Could she not see the duct tape around my ankles? Or Jane strapped to a chair and lying on the floor? The woman was so self-centered, nothing else existed but her world and her problems. But since Althea had gone ahead and unwrapped my hands a minute ago, and since Whitney was blocking Althea’s view of me, I took the opportunity to cautiously reach down and remove the tape around my ankles.

“Fine,” I said, as I tried to rip off the duct tape without making noise. “Say what you want, and then you can leave.”

Her eyes narrowed in fury. “How dare you tell Mrs. Perry about that cheap, ugly version of her sculptural masterpiece? She’s heartbroken. Why do you have to be so mean?”

“Me?” Was she for real? This was the reason she was here? “I didn’t tell Mrs. Perry anything. I haven’t seen her since the party.”

“Who else but
you
would hurt her like that? It’s what you do. It’s so typical of you, to not be able to tell the difference between trash and art.”

“Oh, please. You thought it was trash, too. We both lied to make her think her ugly fountain was beautiful.” I sat up straight, having managed to pull off the tape while Whitney blocked my view. “Never mind. I didn’t do what you think I did, so you can go ahead and leave now.”

Unfortunately she was on a tear, flouncing around and blathering about my thoughtless behavior. And now Althea could see me again. I sat rigidly in the chair so the woman wouldn’t realize I was free to move. She still had a gun pointed in my direction, after all.

“You ruin people’s dreams,” Whitney cried. “Isn’t it bad enough that you’ve been trying to steal my husband for years?”

“Oh no.” I started laughing. “You’re crazy—you know that? I don’t want Tommy. I couldn’t steal him away from you if I tried. He’s madly in love with you, heaven only knows why.”

But she wasn’t listening. She was leaning around to see what was on the floor. “Jane? Is that you? What’re you doing down there?”

“Whitney,” I whispered. “Go now.”

She frowned at me. “What?”

“You’re in danger.”

“Will you speak up? I can’t hear you.”

She’d never been the sharpest arrow in the quiver, but her inability to comprehend a threat was mind-blowing.

“Get out of here!” I whispered as loudly as I could without alerting Althea.

But instead of running, Whitney stopped and sniffed the air. “Is that Valentino? I love Valentino.” She lifted her snooty nose higher to breathe in Althea’s flowery fragrance.

“You are ridiculous,” I muttered.

“Who’s wearing Valentino?” She glanced around. “Don’t tell me it’s you.”

“Just kill her,” Jane muttered, and I was ridiculously happy to know she still had her sense of humor.

Whitney heard her and gave her a puzzled look. “Jane, what’s going on? Is this part of the game?”

“Shannon, get her out of here,” Jane whispered.

Jane was right. I had to make a move. Without warning, I jumped up from my chair and grabbed Whitney, pulling her into the kitchen. She screamed and tried to slap my hands off her.

“No, you don’t!” Althea shouted, and darted out from behind the door. She caught up with us in the kitchen and yanked a syringe from her pocket. Good grief, what else did she have in her pockets?

“Whitney, run!” I grappled with Althea, trying to avoid that needle. But now Althea had a firm hold on Whitney’s arm.

“Get your hands off me!” Whitney shrieked. “Who are you?”

In one swift move, Althea managed to stab Whitney’s arm.

“Ow! What’re you… uuuh…” Whitney’s eyelids fluttered closed and she crumpled to the floor.

“What was in that?” I cried, horrified to see Whitney inert. My mind flashed on Andrew Braxton, murdered by deadly injection. Had she killed Whitney?

“Relax. It’s just a tranquilizer,” she said, waving away my concern. “At least it shut her up. You and Jane are annoying, but that woman just about pushed me over the edge.”

“What is wrong with you?” I shouted. “You’re like the doctor of death with your gun and your drugs and your lies.”

“I’m forced to carry a gun, but I rarely use it. I prefer a nice clean syringe.” She patted her hair back into place. “I think they’re more ladylike.”

“You are not a lady,” I said, then cringed inwardly. As if insulting her would work in my favor.

“And you’re starting to get on my last nerve. As I said, I prefer needles, but I’ll use a gun if I have to.” She pulled her gun out again, but before she could train it on me, I grabbed the first thing from the kitchen counter I could get my hands on and swung it at her. The toaster knocked the gun out of her hand and she went scrambling for it. I leaped after her and we both fell to the floor. Luckily I landed on top of her. She struggled beneath me, stretching her arm out to reach the gun. I was at least six inches taller, so I was able to get my hand on it enough to sweep it farther away.

I might’ve been taller, but Althea was more ornery and she easily bucked me off her back. As she clambered to get her footing, she smacked the side of my head so hard I felt my ears ring. I reached out and grabbed her ankle and tugged, causing her to fall to her knees. She screamed in pain.

“I hope that hurt,” I said, then winced. Damn, it hurt to talk. My head ached from that blow to my temple. I couldn’t wait to return the favor.

She was still on her knees as she turned and glared at me. “I’ll show you a world of hurt.”

I believed her. She was a mean, scary bitch, and who knew what else she had in her pockets? Another syringe? A knife? But I could see the strain in her eyes and realized that Whitney was right—she was an old lady. I almost laughed, but it would’ve been too painful.

“You won’t hurt anyone again,” I said, and shoved her in the chest as hard as I could. Her arms flailed out, but she couldn’t get her balance and fell backward. She let out a guttural scream as she lay helplessly on her back with her legs bent at the knee and splayed.

I jumped up and grabbed the gun, pointing it at her. “Don’t move.”

At that moment, I heard shouts from the front porch as a small army of cops stormed into the house. Heavy footsteps stomped through the foyer and dispersed into the living room and down the hall.

“In here!” I shouted. “Help!”

Despite having a gun pointed at her, Althea stretched out her leg and slammed her foot against my shin, causing my knee to buckle. I slid down and leaned against the kitchen cabinet, my leg throbbing.

“What is wrong with you? I’ve got a gun!” I didn’t know if she was brave or just stupid, but she was definitely lucky I didn’t shoot her.

“I need help in here!” I yelled again.

Tommy dashed into the kitchen and his alert gaze went straight to Whitney lying motionless on the floor.

“What’s happened to her?” he demanded, his face pale with fear.

“Althea injected her with a strong tranquilizer,” I said. “She passed out. You’d better get an ambulance.”

He swore loudly, shouted to the others to get in here. Then he knelt and picked up his wife as gently as he could and whisked her out of the house.

Eric raced into the room. “I’ll take the gun,” he said, easing it out of my hand. That was when I realized my hand was shaking.

Eric turned to the cop right behind him. “Cuff her, read her rights, and get her out of here.”

The cop yanked Althea up off the floor and handcuffed her wrists in one smooth action. Another officer joined him and the two of them led her out. She couldn’t go without a fight and wriggled to get free while squealing that she didn’t do anything, all the way out of the house.

I looked up at Eric. “Jane.”

“She’s okay. We’ve got her.”

My knees wobbled with relief. Eric lifted me up from the floor and into his arms. It was the second time in a few months that a handsome man had swept me off my feet. Sadly, I was too shaken to enjoy it.

“Are you going to be all right?” he asked.

I tried for humor, but it was lame. “You mean, besides the post-traumatic stress of being tormented by a psycho killer?”

“Yeah, besides that.”

I nodded. “My leg is throbbing a little and my head hurts, but I’m fine otherwise. You can put me down.”

“I’m not sure you’re ready.”

“I am, really.”

He set me down on the floor reluctantly.

“Are you sure Jane’s okay?” I asked. “When Althea pushed her chair over, I think she hit her head.”

“We’ll have her checked out at the hospital, but she’s feisty. She’s going to be fine.”

“Okay, good.” I was so relieved to know that Jane would be all right I gave in to the dizziness and the throbbing leg and slumped over. In one smooth move, Eric lifted me into his arms again and carried me out to the living room.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, but my words sounded slurred. I was sure it was just a delayed reaction to the horror show we’d just experienced a few moments ago.

“Of course you are,” he said quietly. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d humor me.”

“Okay.”

He set me down on the big chair next to the couch. Even though I was perfectly fine, really, I decided to stay put until I got my bearings back. Eric stood close by and we watched as two of the cops finished removing the duct tape from Jane’s ankles and wrists and helped her up.

Mac rushed into the house, glanced around, and found me. I smiled, grateful to see him. But then I remembered seeing him with the supermodel and my smile faded. I wanted to cry, but that was probably just a delayed reaction to Althea’s attack.

Mac’s eyes narrowed in speculation, but he said nothing as he turned to Eric. “Is she all right?”

“She fainted,” he said gruffly.

“No, I didn’t.”

Eric and Mac exchanged a dubious look.

“Really, I’m fine.” I gazed at Eric. “You got my e-mail.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And if you ever leave me a message like that again without contacting me personally, I’ll kill you.”

Jane stood and Eric reached for her when she swayed.

“I’m fine,” Jane said.

“I’m hearing that a lot,” he said, glancing back at me. “But do me a favor.” He led Jane over to the couch. “Sit here for a minute until you’re better than fine.”

Mac was still staring at me, his forehead furrowed with concern. Was he worried? Angry? Confused? I couldn’t tell. Did it matter?

It
did
matter, I decided. Even if he was involved with someone else, I still wanted to be his friend. And although that thought was incredibly depressing, I would simply have to muddle through and live with it. I gave him a weak smile that he returned with a broad grin.

The pain was subsiding in my leg and I felt less dizzy, too. So after a few deep breaths, I pushed myself out of the chair, crossed to the couch, and gave Jane a hug. “I’m so proud of you, but you scared the hell out of me.”

“Likewise,” she muttered.

As police officers worked in the background, Eric explained that even before he read my e-mail, he’d heard back from the police chief in Long Beach, who answered his question about Andrew Braxton’s next of kin. “He told me that besides his wife and kids, Andrew had a stepmother. Her name was Althea Braxton. It couldn’t be a coincidence.”

Eric had been about to go and arrest Althea when Mac called to tell him that he’d seen me walk next door to Jesse’s house.

I looked at Mac. “Thank you.”

He flashed me another grin but said nothing.

“By then,” Eric continued, “I had uncovered most of Althea’s murky background. Your e-mail filled in the blanks. My men and I raced over here to save the day, but it seems that you two were able to save yourselves.”

“I guess we did,” I said.

Jane smiled wearily. “Sort of.”

Eric frowned. “I’ve just got one question. What was Whitney Gallagher doing here?”

“You really don’t want to know,” I muttered.

I figured I owed Whitney my gratitude for barging in the way she did, but I was pretty certain she wouldn’t return my thanks.

*   *   *

A few hours later, after Althea was processed and thrown in jail, Eric caught up with me, Mac and Jane to commiserate over pizza and wine at my house. We were joined by Emily, Lizzie and Hal, and Marigold, who had all been worried sick about us after hearing through the grapevine that something awful had happened at Jesse’s place.

Knowing the grapevine would travel with the speed of sound, I gave my father a quick call out at Uncle Pete’s winery to let him know I was safe and sound.