When Secrets Die (37 page)

Authors: Lynn S. Hightower

BOOK: When Secrets Die

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“I don't have it,” Tundridge said. “I paid off the loans on the clinic. But I did bring one hundred thousand dollars in cash, and I have it with me in my car.”

Amaryllis stood up suddenly and looked out the window.

“I'm in the RAV, not the Volvo,” Tundridge said. “The money is in the front seat.”

“It's not enough,” Amaryllis said. “It won't last. You got
millions
.”

“That's for research,” Tundridge told her.

“Give her your house,” I suggested. Syd had filled me in on the way over, about how much Amaryllis hated her, how much she envied her.

Tundridge glared at me. “That's ridiculous.”

I wasn't sure if he was acting or annoyed. “I don't think it's ridiculous. She's got a point. You made four million dollars, and I'm not going to let you put my client's daughter at risk because you're cheap. Give her the house in Heartland and your car, and make it legal. Put them in her name, and pay them off firstâ” I glanced over at Amaryllis. “You don't want any liens. Amaryllis, you get the house in Heartland and the Volvo and the cash.”

Tundridge winced. “Okay. The house, the cash, and my wife's car. I'm keeping the Volvo.”

“She gets the Volvo,” I said.

“No. I want Syd's car.” Amaryllis stood up. “Go get the cash and the title. Right now, as good faith.”

“Then we get Blaine,” I said.

Amaryllis didn't answer. I wondered if Blaine was still alive. I did not like the feeling I got in this house.

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” I jumped up and headed down the hallway, moving fast. I heard the recliner creak and Amaryllis moving behind me. I noted a bathroom off the hallway but kept on going, and behind me, the hall light went on.

There were three bedrooms. The doors were shut on all except the one on the left, the master. I took it in immediately, the doorknob and plate unscrewed, the door swinging open.

“Don'tâ”

I turned on the light. The bed was unmade. The window was open, the screen popped out. The bedclothes were tangled. It smelled as if someone had been sick in here. I saw vomit on the floor. And shoes. Two muddy platform shoes.

Amaryllis faced me from the hallway. “What are you doing?”

The sound of the front door slamming open made both of us jump. Footsteps beat like drumrolls in the hallway, and the room was suddenly swarming with large men and women bulked out in navy blue flak jackets that had “FBI” stenciled on the back. Amaryllis raised her right hand suddenly. The agent who grabbed her thought she had a gun, but when she dropped the towel, I saw that it was a syringe. It hit the floor and rolled under the bed.

I heard the sound of garage doors going up, the thundering of more feet on the stairs. Amaryllis had gone very limp, rag-dollish, weirdly smiling.

I looked up and saw Joel in the doorway.

“I left you a message,” I said.

Joel led me out into the hall, but it was crowded with agents. “This way,” he said, pointing. He bent close to my ear, whispering. “You should have seen them all trying to cram through the front door.”

We heard the ambulance, and two minutes later saw the pulse of light from the window. It was followed by police cars, and the small street began to fill with neighbors. I followed Joel out of the back kitchen door, and around to the front of the house.

The garage doors were open.

Charlie Russell's silver Nissan was parked on the left-hand side, trunk open. Blaine Marsden was on her feet, wrapped in a blanket and enveloped in hugs from Emma and Marcus Franklin. One of them was crying, maybe both.

The ambulance crew was bringing out a stretcher, and they bypassed Blaine Marsden and headed straight for the open back door of the car.

Janine, Russell was crying. McKay bent close to her; he looked like he was reassuring her.

“Janine?” I said.

She heard me and looked up. “He's unconscious, but alive.” She brushed tears away and gave me the thumbs-up.

McKay pointed a finger at me. “Stick around. You and I need to talk.”

“You can thank me later,” I said, and looked at Joel. “I don't like his tone.”

“How about I take you home?” Joel said.

“Sounds good.”

“We just need to make one quick stop, if you're not too tired.”

“What, are we out of milk?”

“No. But I saw a jewelry store on the way in that has one-hour sizing. And then I thought we might go celebrate at the Fox and Parrot. McKay can find us there, if he wants to talk.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-THREE

I watched the court listings for months but never saw any sign of a divorce filing between Syd and Theodore Tundridge. The last time I passed the Tundridge Clinic, they were building a new addition.

Charlie Russell and Blaine Marsden made full recoveries with the assistance and care of Dr. Theodore Tundridge, who was, after all, an expert on liver toxins. Marcus Franklin moved in with Emma and Blaine in the house in Athens and planned to commute to his job in Frankfort until Blaine graduated from high school. The last time I talked to Emma Marsden, she and Franklin were planning a wedding and trying to talk Great-Aunt Jodina into living with them.

Judith said yes to Rick, and they flew to Jamaica and got married on the beach. They showed up at our door with their big news and were incensed to learn that we had beaten them to the altar.

Four days after we got back from Tennessee, just after dark, Joel and I drove into the Kentucky countryside near Versailles to the Pisgah Presbyterian Church on Old Frankfort Pike. Someone had lit candles, and I could see them flickering in the windows when we drove up.

The minister was young and broad-shouldered, and he had a friend with himâa girlfriend, I thought, from the way they smiled at each other. She was there to witness the ceremony and sign our marriage license. She sat in the front pew, until we invited her up to the pulpit with us. The girlfriend turned the sanctuary lights off so we could have the ceremony by candlelight.

I wore a white sheath silk wedding dress, elegant and simple, and Joel wore his best suit. We'd stopped at a florist to buy roses just that afternoon, and the girl behind the counter had put together a spur-of-the-moment bouquet.

The minister had a nice voice, and he was unhurried and clearly pleased to be marrying us. Joel and I said our vows in the flickering candlelight, and in just a few minutes we were man and wife.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My thanks to Patricia Patrick for technical advice and medical insight.

To Jon Brock, for his wonderful stories.

To Alan, Laurel, Rachel, and Rebecca, for all the usual reasons.

And last but not least to Robert, for enough reasons to fill another book.

About the Author

Lynn Hightower grew up in the South and graduated from the University of Kentucky, where she studied creative writing with Wendell Berry and earned a journalism degree. She is the author of ten novels, including two mystery series, one featuring homicide detective Sonora Blair and the other featuring private investigator Lena Padget.
Flashpoint
, the first Sonora Blair mystery, was a New York Times Notable Book.
Satan's Lambs
, the first Lena Padget mystery, won the Shamus Award for Best First PI Novel. Hightower has also written the Elaki series of futuristic police procedurals, which begins with Alien Blues.

Hightower's novels, which have been translated into seven foreign languages, have appeared on the
Times
(London) bestseller list and have been nominated for the Kentucky Literary Award, the Kentucky Librarians First Choice Award, and the Mary Higgins Clark Award. She teaches at the UCLA Extension Writers' Program, where she was named Creative Writing Instructor of the Year in 2012. The author lives with her husband in Kentucky.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Andrea Worthington

ISBN: 978-1-5040-3753-2

This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

180 Maiden Lane

New York, NY 10038

www.openroadmedia.com