Triple Shot (18 page)

‘And Gabriella was already in the pool?’

Sarah nodded. ‘At first I didn’t understand what I was seeing, then she –’ pointing to Smith – ‘came up behind me, screaming. And who are you, anyway?’

‘Sarah, Jane’s one of our customers at Uncommon Grounds.’ Though, given I’d served the woman for a year without knowing her name, I didn’t have the right to register proprietary indignation at my business partner. ‘Jane Smith.’

I turned to Smith. ‘So Gabriella and you were both already here when Sarah arrived?’

The brunette blinked. ‘No. Why would you think that?’

‘Because there’s only one car and it’s parked in front of Sarah’s. I assumed you made plans this morning at tennis to come here together.’ I was pretty proud of my clear reasoning, given I was shivering from a combination of the cold and the dissipating adrenaline rush.

‘The last time I saw Gabriella was in your shop, when she left to meet a client.’ Smith’s eyes kept flicking sideways toward her friend surrounded by EMTs. ‘Besides, I walked over.’

I let the supposed 'client' pass. ‘Walked? Where do you live?’

Smith blushed. ‘Just on the other side of Poplar Creek Road.’

‘So you’re a neighbor.’ Sarah was searching her pockets, presumably for cigarettes. ‘What did I tell you, Maggy?’

Nosy neighbors poking around open houses were the least of our worries right now. Sarah’s main business competitor was dead, evidently of unnatural causes. In that, Gabriella Atherton joined three other women in the field, which included one who had reported her boss – my coffee shop partner – to the real estate licensing board.

I didn’t think Sarah was ridding the world of agents.

But someone sure was.

The sheriff’s department followed on the heels of the EMTs. They taped off the area and moved us back, then interviewed each of us separately. I was first, and now Sarah Kingston and Jane Smith were talking to their respective deputies.

Pavlik arrived just as the crime-scene investigators started their work.

He came over to me. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Fine,’ I lied. In truth, I was freezing, but I was damned if I was going to leave as the deputies had told me I was free to do.

‘I’m just sorry I was late, so Sarah had to find –’ I pointed to the gurney that held Gabriella Atherton’s body bag – ‘this alone.’

‘Honestly?’ Pavlik said. ‘It would be good for Sarah if there were another witness, but I’m glad you were late. The less you’re involved, the better.’ He tugged the blanket tighter around me.

‘You can’t think Sarah did this.’

My partner’s gun had been confiscated – or better, voluntarily surrendered.

‘Ms Atherton and the other two shooting victims had wounds consistent with a much smaller caliber bullet than that .357 Smithy pocket cannon your friend was packing.’

I brightened. ‘So, she couldn’t have done it.’

‘Not with that revolver. For now, though, that’s all I can say.’

For now, it was enough.

‘My Lord!’ a woman’s voice said from inside the house. ‘What in the world is going on?’

MaryAnne Williams swept into her backyard, a sheriff’s deputy guiding more than guarding her.

Pavlik left me to introduce himself.

MaryAnne extended her hand. ‘Of course I remember you, sheriff. You were Maggy’s escort for our little fundraiser here. And a very dashing one, as I recall?’

But the Southern courtesy of our former Atlanta belle proved to be short-lived. ‘I don’t understand, sheriff. The deputy who met me at the door said there has been a shooting?’

Before Pavlik could answer, MaryAnne registered my appearance. ‘Maggy, whatever are you doing here? And looking like a drowned rat to boot?’

‘Umm . . . well . . .’ I pointed to Pavlik. ‘You’d better ask him.’

But MaryAnne had seen Sarah, interview apparently over. Jane Smith seemed to be finishing up with her deputies, as well, all the while throwing worried looks toward MaryAnne.

Who, in turn, was crushing my surprised partner in an embrace. ‘Sarah, honey, thank God. I was afraid this crazed killer had gotten you and it was somehow all my fault.’

Sarah didn’t crush easily. And she responded to hugs even less. ‘I’m fine. And, if I had been shot, why would that be your fault?’

Not a bad question.

‘Because I insisted you handle my open house personally?’

‘I didn’t have much choice.’ Sarah spread her hands out wide. ‘These days I’m a one-woman operation.’ She glanced over at me. ‘At least the realty side of my life.’

I was genuinely touched by Sarah’s evident relief at having me around for backup. In oh-so-many ways.

MaryAnne began looking around. ‘But if you’re unhurt, then who . . . ?’

‘Gabriella Atherton,’ Pavlik said. ‘She was found dead in your pool.’

‘Gabriella?’ MaryAnne tilted her head. ‘What in the world would she be doing here?’

Smith, who’d been heading toward us, made a U-turn and quickstepped out the gate.

‘You mean Jane Smith?’ I asked.

‘Jane? No.’ Apparently MaryAnne hadn’t seen her neighbor. ‘I meant Gabriella.’

‘We were hoping you’d know why Ms Atherton might have come by,’ Pavlik said. ‘I understand you played tennis together. Might she have just . . . dropped in?’

‘I very much doubt that. We didn’t really see much of each other outside of tennis? And, besides, why would she be in my backyard?’

‘Looking at the property?’ Pavlik ventured. ‘Maybe she was interested in taking over the listing.’

‘Interested? Well, I guess that’s certainly possible,’ MaryAnne said. ‘But I made it clear to her – and to just about
every
body – that my listing was staying with Kingston Realty, so long as Sarah owned it.’

‘So long as she owned it?’ I repeated, turning to Sarah. ‘Have you been thinking of selling?’

‘Not until –’ an expansive wave that included both MaryAnne’s pool and Gabriella’s gurney – ‘now.’

MaryAnne shrugged. ‘Perhaps I misunderstood. Gabriella said something about the difficulty of remaining licensed in the realty area when you had irons in other fires? I assumed that she meant Sarah was concentrating on the coffeehouse.’

My partner’s eyes narrowed. I felt Sarah and I were weathervanes pointing in the same direction: Brigid Ferndale and Gabriella Atherton had been in cahoots. Maybe getting Sarah’s real estate license revoked was the dowry Brigid was bringing to the imminent business marriage. With Sarah off the board as a competitor, all her clients would be up for grabs.

For the first time, I wondered whether Sarah’s employee, Theodore, really had sexually harassed Brigid, or if that was just another part of her master plan.

Nah. Theo was a pig.

‘Did Gabby Girl mention Brigid by name?’ Sarah was demanding.

‘Gabby Girl? Oh, you mean Gabriella.’ MaryAnne’s expression, puzzled at the nickname, now slid toward a grin. ‘I’d pay money to see her face if . . .’

MaryAnne trailed off self-consciously, probably approaching the same painful, brain-cramp territory that Deirdre Doty had last night when talking to Pavlik about Brigid Ferndale.

Moving the recently deceased from our present tense and into the past.

I cleared my throat. ‘I think what Sarah was asking was whether Gabriella ever mentioned Brigid to you.’

‘No, but she still worked for you, Sarah, so—’

Pavlik jumped in. ‘Ms Williams, did Ms Atherton’s realty have a key to your house?’

‘No, of course not. Kingston has the only key.’

Now Pavlik to Sarah. ‘And you used that to gain entrance today?’

‘I did, though I didn’t bring the key with me. We keep it in a lockbox on the front door.’ Sarah seemed to sense something from the sheriff. ‘And that’s standard practice throughout the industry.’

Pavlik nodded. ‘Anyone else have the combination, then?’

‘No, I—’

‘Brigid would have,’ I interrupted. ‘And maybe she gave it to Gabriella.’

‘But why ever would Brigid do that?’ MaryAnne asked.

Her guess was as good as mine and, seemingly, neither of us had even that. ‘I don’t know, MaryAnne, though maybe it’s neither here nor there. Gabriella wouldn’t have needed the key just to access the backyard.’

MaryAnne looked puzzled and turned. ‘But she had to come through the house, Maggy.’ A turn back. ‘I always keep my gates locked, and that fence is six-feet high. I doubt Gabriella scaled it.’

‘Sorry, but that gate –’ I gestured – ‘was unlocked. It’s how I got in. I assumed the pool cleaners or somebody left it open.’

‘Impossible.’ MaryAnne was shaking her head emphatically. ‘Both my yard and pool services came by this morning to do a spruce-up toward the open house. I checked that gate when I stopped home after tennis, as I always do after they’ve been here. Their men do a wonderful job on the grounds, but they’re not as security-conscious as one might hope.’

Pavlik addressed me. ‘Yet you’re certain the gate was unlocked?’

‘Positive. It wasn’t even closed completely. MaryAnne, opposite question: someone could have gotten
out
of the yard, even if the gate
was
locked, right?’

‘Yes, yes – the lock is to keep people out, honey, not in. And my attorney told me I couldn’t prevent egress from the property, in case of fire or whatever. Are you thinking the killer escaped that way?’

‘If the person was in a hurry,’ I said, ‘he or she might not have pulled the gate closed behind them, meaning the lock wouldn’t have engaged. It explains my being able to go through the gate, even though you’d secured it earlier.’

It also indicated that someone was on the scene before Sarah. A good thing, since my partner could be forgiven for having murderous thoughts about both Brigid and Gabriella, who now appeared to have been conspiring against her.

Except Sarah hadn’t known about their scheme. Or, at least, I assumed she hadn’t.

I rubbed my forehead with the heel of both hands.

Pavlik noticed the gesture. ‘Maggy, you and Sarah are free to go. I would like to talk to you for a moment, though,’ he said, nodding toward MaryAnne.

I put my hand on the older woman’s shoulder. ‘Are you going to be all right here alone tonight? I have a guest room.’

Though she’d have to share it with a sheepdog.

‘Thank you, Maggy, but I’ll be fine. And if I get the heebie-jeebies, I’ll call my sister or maybe Elaine. I have to say though –’ her eyes slid toward the gurney being lifted for transport – ‘I think I’ll leave the crime-solving to you, from now on.’

She gave off a shiver.

###

If MaryAnne followed either option, she must have reached her sister, because I arrived at Uncommon Grounds the next morning to find Elaine Riordan with Tien in our storeroom.

It was Saturday, a relatively slow day for a business like ours that catered to the commuter crowd. We’d even experimented with abandoning weekends altogether, but had finally compromised on short hours – 7 a.m. to 12 noon – on Saturday, closed on Sunday.

‘What do you think, Maggy?’ Tien asked. ‘Should we serve the cold beverages today in Styrofoam or clear plastic cups?’

‘Styrofoam,’ I said, without missing a beat. ‘Our logo will show up better against the white background.’

‘That’s genius,’ Riordan said, looking up from the yellow-lined pad of paper on which she was jotting notes. ‘Oh, and both Deirdre and Ward want you each to get as much product-placement value as possible, given that we’re just paying out-of-pockets.’

‘I’ll be finished here at noon,’ I said. ‘What can I do to help?’

‘We’re setting up the buffet in the Ristorante’s dining room,’ Tien said. ‘I haven’t had a chance to get over there, but Elaine has described it and also says the kitchen is in fairly good shape.’

Our anorexic blonde was nodding. ‘I wouldn’t want to cook a gourmet meal there, certainly. But there is reliable running water and working appliances as well.

‘We’ll need to feed the film crew around four?’ Riordan continued. ‘That way they can be back to work by five, so we can begin to take care of our guests.’

‘How many locals have you invited?’ I asked.

‘Not all that many – perhaps ten or fifteen. The show is live, so we’ll all need to trail after the hand-held cameras through the Ristorante, the slaughterhouse and God knows where else. Still, Ward wants to thank those who’ve helped us the most – you and your partner, the sheriff and his public information people, a few county and town officials. Oh, and Kate McNamara and the rest of the print reporters, of course.’

‘No television?’ I asked, a little disappointed. A logo on the cups wouldn’t do any good if no one was there to film them.

‘Heavens no. WTVR, the local affiliate airing the show, wouldn’t hear of it. They want exclusive first dibs on whatever Ward might find.’

The excitement of being involved with the production seemed to agree with Riordan. There was a flush of excitement on her hollow cheeks and even her reedy voice was stronger.

‘Live at seven, right?’ I needed to set my DVR. I was also trying to figure out how I could help with food and wander through a slaughterhouse, all the while wearing my red slut dress.

Maybe there’d be time to go home and change after the show, but before the party.

‘Seven to eight, and then Sapphire is opening early for us right after that. Although if all goes well, we may be delayed by the rest of the media clamoring for interviews to air on their ten o’clock news shows.’

Elaine probably had a triumphant Ward Chitown in mind, brandishing a big satchel of money. I was thinking more Maggy Thorsen in her stunning red dress, holding up an Uncommon Grounds cup, logo toward lens.

Maybe I’d stick the dress and shoes in a bag and change en route. Regardless, at the stroke of noon I planned to rush home, let Frank out and shower the caffeine from my hair and pores.

‘So if I arrive around one thirty, is that OK?’ I asked.

‘Sure,’ Tien said. ‘Jacque is going to help, too. He’s made some wonderful stuffed clams and mini crabcakes we’re going to serve along with a clam chowder.’

If I thought Elaine had been glowing, she was a dim bulb compared to Tien.

‘Yum,’ I said. ‘What about your dad?’

A subtle shake of the head, with her eyes slewing toward Riordan. ‘He’s busy, so that’s why Jacque is helping.’