Death by beach read, p.21
Death by Beach Read, page 21
She leaned over and put her face close to mine. I pulled myself back as far as I could in my chair, and I could smell her breath, her excessively applied perfume, and something underneath, something dark and disturbing. “I can. And I do. It wasn’t enough for you to ruin my life once, was it? You had to do it again and frame Curtis.”
“I didn’t frame Curtis. He was guilty.”
“I was disgraced. Run out of town. I had legal fees and was forced to sell my house to pay them. Do you know where I ended up? A horrible little apartment near the highway. People pretend to be sympathetic, but they’re laughing at me. Laughing at me! It’s your fault. It’s all your fault.”
I started to stand, but she pushed me back down. “What makes you think you deserve to be happy? To live in this house, with this beautiful view? To keep your cozy job at the library? To marry a nice man? I ran into Jimmy in town a couple of weeks ago. He looked dreadful, simply dreadful. I wouldn’t have recognized him, but he recognized me. Which is more than his stupid sister did. I sat next to her at your childish book club, chatting inanely away, pretending to be interested in that book, and she didn’t even know it was me.”
“You were with Jimmy that night, weren’t you? The night Jo was seventeen and frightened out of the house.”
“What of it? It was a prank. A joke. Jimmy knew she wasn’t supposed to have her boyfriend around, so he dressed up and pretended to be his grandfather risen from the grave to avenge the family honor. Woo-hoo. She was so easy to scare. I put on a long dress and a wig, but I don’t think she even saw me, she up and ran out of the house so fast.” Diane let out a bark of laughter. “Fred McNeil ran too, fast enough. Jimmy and I had a great laugh about what a coward he was.”
“You ruined Jo’s life.”
Diane pulled herself out of my face. “Nonsense. She was a stupid girl, always with her nose in her books, not interested in going to parties or making friends. Jimmy said she’d never amount to anything. Her and Ralph both. He was right.”
I didn’t think Jimmy had amounted to all that much himself, but I didn’t bother to express my opinion on the subject of the Harper siblings.
“You got into the house through the access in the floor of the pantry,” I said.
“Jimmy’s grandfather had made it long before Jimmy was born, but the only one he trusted to know about it was Jimmy. And Jimmy trusted me. I forgot all about it after Jimmy left. Turns out he was no better than the rest of his family. He never should have gotten himself caught with that ring.”
“The ring you asked him to steal for you.”
“I asked him to prove his love for me. He failed.” She stepped back. “Doesn’t matter. That happened a long time ago, and anything between us wouldn’t have worked out. Not while his grandfather was alive. The miserable old man had too much influence over him. He knew I was onto him, and he turned Jimmy against me. A couple of years after his grandfather died, Jimmy came back to town. He wanted us to hook up again, and we had a hoot playing that joke on his sister, but I didn’t want to be stuck with a lowlife like Jimmy Harper for the rest of my life, so I told him it was over.”
“After the incident, after Jo ran out of the house, she said she heard her grandfather’s voice in her head. Was that Jimmy or you, whispering at windows?”
Diane laughed. “It wasn’t me, and I doubt Jimmy had that much imagination. No, she was nothing but a foolish girl who had a nervous breakdown and tried to cover it up by saying a ghost was after her.”
“Did you come into our house those nights intending to steal, or did you only want to scare me?”
“I’m not a common thief, Lucy. Jimmy and I went out for a couple of drinks one night, and he told me his brother had sold the family house without cutting him in on it. He said he wanted to get inside, that his grandfather had left him something valuable. I didn’t much care about that. Jimmy always did have great ideas that never panned out. Ralph would have taken anything he wanted from the house, but then Jimmy said that you and Connor were the new owners. How could I possibly resist coming along after that?” Her giggle gave me the chills. “I was absolutely thrilled to find the secret entrance still in place and working. While Jimmy tried to find the supposed treasure, I poked around a bit. Did you know you snore?”
“I do not.”
“Quite dreadful. I’m sure your young man puts up with it now because he thinks he’s soooo in love, but that won’t last. You’re pretty enough, or so some people think, but you’re no beauty and your girlish good looks won’t last, and before long he’ll be ready to move on.”
I decided this was not the time to get into a discussion of the depth of love I believed Connor had for me. And I for him. “You’re not very good at mind games, Diane. Which is why you had to resort to a childish prank of pretending to be the ghost of Ezekiel Froomer.”
“But Jimmy wasn’t playing tricks this time, was he. He was after something he thought might be in the house, despite it having new owners.”
“What was it he wanted?”
“Some treasure his grandfather had held on to all those years. He wouldn’t say what, but he thought it might be in one of those dusty old boxes upstairs.” Diane shivered. “I didn’t go up there with him. Spiders. I don’t care for spiders.”
It was somewhat disconcerting to think of Jimmy Harper and Diane stealing into our house while Connor and I were snuggled up happily and sound asleep. But Charles had known they were there. Charles had tried to warn me.
“I suppose you’ve closed up the under-floor entrance by now,” Diane continued. “I tried to shut it when I left the last time, but I couldn’t figure out how, and then I heard you and Connor coming in, so I didn’t have time. Doesn’t matter. I have other ways of ensuring you don’t get too comfortable in his house, Lucy. I’ll be back again. Guaranteed.”
“You knew there was no meeting of the historical society at the library yesterday,” I said. “You used that as an excuse to come in to check up on me following the fire, no doubt hoping I’d be a nervous sobbing wreck and you could quietly gloat.”
She smiled at me, and a river of ice ran down my spine. I could see no point in telling her I’d done nothing to harm her, that her misfortunes were her own fault. She’d decided to blame me for her problems. Better, in her mind, than blaming herself.
She straightened up, pulled herself out of my face, and took a step toward the house. She hadn’t said anything incriminating yet. Not confessed to anything more serious than breaking into the house. She hadn’t even stolen anything. I stood up and touched the phone in my pocket, hoping it was still on. “Why did Jimmy die? Did he attack you, Diane?”
She took her sunglasses off and slowly turned around. The light of madness shone in her eyes. She hated me so much, that hatred had overtaken her last reserves of sanity.
“I didn’t believe his story of so-called family treasure, but I let him think I did. I said we could use the money he got from its sale to run away together. Get far away from this miserable town. We could start a new life. Do you know what he did then, Little Miss Perfect, do you know what he did?” Her eyes blazed fire and her voice rose into a screech.
“No. I don’t.” I tried to keep my own voice calm and understanding. “Why don’t you tell me, Diane?”
“He laughed at me. He called me a washed-up old hag.”
“That … wasn’t nice.”
“He said it was my fault he went to jail all those years ago. My fault his life had turned out to be a mess. My fault his mother cut him out of her will so he didn’t get his rightful share of the house. It was my fault!” Her voice rose steadily. “He was going to grab his grandfather’s treasure, and he was going to leave me behind. Once again, he was going to leave me behind!”
I gripped my phone.
“What could I do but kill him?” Charles appeared on the other side of the door. He cocked his head at me and scratched at the glass.
“He thought I was too old. Ha! He couldn’t crawl under this house without moaning about his knees and his aching back and then having to sit down and rest before pulling the ladder to go up the stairs. He was sweating so hard after that tiny bit of exercise, he took off his gloves to dig a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his face. While he was doing that, I showed him who’s too old.” She turned her back to me and grabbed the door handle. I slipped my phone out of my pocket and prepared to push the emergency icon. Diane was losing control. If she was allowed to leave, who knew what harm she might do. To herself as well as anyone who crossed her path.
“There’s that horrible cat,” she said. “I hate that cat!”
Charles snarled at her through the glass.
“Although you do have your uses, don’t you?” Diane said to him. “That cute little leash. Such a practical thing. Jimmy sat down, saying he had to rest his old heart before he went upstairs and finished searching. It was a matter of seconds to grab the leash off the hook, throw it around his neck from behind, and pull. He was right about one thing—his heart wasn’t in good shape. That showed him, didn’t it? And now I’ll be on my way. Guard your back, Lucy, you and that horrid cat. You’ll never know when I’ll be watching you. But rest assured, I will be.”
My skin crawled. Diane had killed Jimmy Harper because he’d insulted her, and she was so blasé about it she was continuing with her plan to get her revenge on me by frightening me. I could only assume her goal was to scare me out of my house and hopefully out of Nags Head altogether. When that failed, as it would have, what did she plan on doing? I didn’t dare consider that.
She turned around and took a step toward me, perhaps not wanting to go into the house and pass Charles. She saw the phone in my hand. “What are you doing?”
“You need help, Diane. Let me call—”
With an unworldly screech, she was on me. She flew at me, her hands reaching for my neck. Started, I scrambled backward across the deck, trying to keep my balance. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and jerked my head toward her. One hand grabbed my throat while the other held my head. All I could see was her wild eyes and open, screaming mouth. I pulled myself backward and crashed through the unsupported railings of the deck. I lost the grip on my phone and it flew out of my hand.
I fell hard onto the sand. I landed flat on my back; my head struck the ground, and stars whirled through my vision.
Diane hadn’t let go, and she’d fallen along with me. She’d had a softer landing, and by the time I recovered enough of my wits to realize I had to get up, she was on me, sitting on my chest, pinning me down with her weight. Her fingers found my throat again, and she stared into my face as she squeezed. Colored circles danced in front of my eyes. In the far distance I could hear people calling. I tried to yell for help, but not a sound came out. I scratched and pulled at her hands, trying to get them off me, but she was too strong and I was losing consciousness too fast.
Connor, I thought. We’d never finish our beautiful house together. We’d not have a lifetime to live in it.
I lost my grip on Diane’s hands as my lungs screamed for air. My own hands fell to my side. I felt the soft warm sand beneath my fingers. Gathering up the last residues of strength I could find, I grabbed a fistful of the stuff and flung it into Diane’s face. She yelled, pulled back, and let go of me as she instinctively fought to clear her eyes. I sucked in great lungfuls of welcome air, scooped up more sand, and threw it. I shoved at her and tried to roll to one side.
And then people were with us. Lifting Diane away from me, holding her tight, while she fought and screamed and kicked and yelled.
“Police. Police,” a voice shouted. “We need the police here!”
I scrambled to my feet. My throat ached and I couldn’t gulp down the fresh sea air fast enough.
A circle of faces watched me, wide-eyed.
“Let me go,” Diane screamed. “It’s her fault. It’s all her fault.”
“We’ll let the police sort it out,” a woman said.
The man holding Diane relaxed his grip, and she pulled herself free. Screaming, she lunged for me, and I leapt backward, my feet scrabbling to find purchase in the soft, shifting sands. The woman who’d spoken stepped between us and put both her hands up to Diane. “Whoa there!”
The man grabbed Diane again, and another woman took my arm. “Do you need to sit down, dear?”
“I rather think I do,” I said, as Butch Greenblatt and Holly Rankin came running around the house.
Chapter Nineteen
“Charles,” I croaked. “I have to go to Charles.”
The poor cat was attempting to throw himself through the living room door.
“He can wait,” Holly Rankin said. “You need to stay here. The detective’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”
I changed tactics. “I’m feeling faint. I need to lie down. My throat hurts. I need a … cough, cough … glass of water.”
She eyed me suspiciously and then said, “Oh, all right.”
A second police car had arrived moments after the first, and Diane, screaming that it was all my fault, had been hustled away, hands cuffed behind her back. Butch was taking statements from the onlookers and Holly stayed with me, helping me search for my phone. We eventually found it, trampled underfoot and half buried in the sand.
As the stairs to the deck hadn’t been installed yet, I had to throw my upper body onto the planks and wiggle myself up.
“Feeling faint, are you?” Holly said as she, stronger than me, used her arms to hoist her body.
I opened the door and scooped Charles up. He licked my face. “One more time,” I said, “the … cough, cough … hero of the day.”
“Considering he was inside and you were outside,” Holly said, “I don’t see how that worked.”
The back door crashed open, footsteps pounded down the hall, and Connor yelled, “Lucy!”
“Here.” The words came out as a broken squeak rather than the confident shout I’d intended.
And then I was in his arms, Charles’s solid body being crushed between us.
“Sorry.” I pulled myself away and put the cat down. He leapt up onto the windowsill to watch sea gulls swoop over the beach. I melted into Connor’s arms again. Behind us, I could hear Holly Rankin shifting her feet.
“What on earth happened this time?” Connor said into my hair. “When I saw cars tearing out of the police station lot and then my phone started ringing, I knew it had to be about you.”
“Sorry about that,” I mumbled. “Diane Uppiton tried to make me think our house was haunted, and then she killed Jimmy Harper and tried to kill me.” I coughed. My throat felt like it had been rubbed down with a good quantity of beach sand.
“Why?” Connor said.
“Why indeed?” Sam Watson had followed Connor in. “First, Lucy, are you all right? Do you need to go to the hospital?”
I touched my throat. I took a deep breath and sucked in fire. “I’m … cough, cough. Sore, but no harm done.”
“If you’re sure,” he said. “Officer Rankin, get some pictures of that throat. It’s already bruising up.”
Connor growled.
“Try not to talk too much. I’ll get a statement from you when you’re ready,” Watson said. “You and Connor go into the kitchen. I want to check what’s happening outside, and then I’ll join you.”
Holly followed Connor and me into the kitchen. She made me stand under the lights and snapped pictures of my throat while Connor put the kettle on and got the teapot out.
Pictures taken, Rankin went back outside, and I dropped heavily into a stool at the island. I hoped never to see those pictures. Charles soon lost interest in the activities outside and wandered into the kitchen to settle into his cat bed for a nap.
“Diane Uppiton,” Connor said, as he put a cup of hot, fragrant liquid in front of me. “I never would have thought it. Why did you—” He lifted one hand. “No, don’t talk. Save it for Sam, and if you can’t talk, tell him he’ll have to wait.”
“Paper,” I croaked. “Pen.”
He got them for me. I put my phone on the table and said, “Recording.” I jotted down a quick outline of what I’d guessed and what Diane had told me.
Watson soon came in and pulled up a stool. He read my notes and nodded grimly. I indicated the phone, and he said, “Let’s hear it, then.”
I pressed the buttons. The recording wasn’t good, but it should be good enough, particularly when Diane’s voice started rising with her rage. Watson’s face remained impassive, but when she confessed to killing Jimmy with Charles’s leash, his eyebrows rose a fraction.
“Pretty open-and-shut case,” Connor said, when he could speak again.
“She’ll plead diminished responsibility, most likely,” Watson said.
She’s crazy, I wrote.
“Fortunately,” Watson said, “that will not be up to me to determine.”
Through the kitchen windows, I’d seen a constant stream of people coming and going—not only police and forensics people but neighbors and curious passersby. A loud rap sounded at the side door, and Connor opened it. My aunt Ellen and uncle Amos stood there, mouths agape.
“Lucy,” Aunt Ellen said, “We heard what happened. You were attacked by Diane Uppiton? Why on earth?”
“Allegedly attacked,” Uncle Amos, a criminal defense attorney, said.
“Attacked,” Connor said firmly. “The news traveled fast.”
“As it does,” Ellen said. “I was volunteering at the library today, and a patron called to tell us she was on the beach near your house and there was a significant amount of police activity and Diane Uppiton, of all people, had been taken away in handcuffs and Lucy was observed being assisted by police.”
