“What do you do now? Are you able to travel, or have hobbies?”

  Evelyn draped the dishtowel over the oven handle and Doofus returned it to her immediately. “Such a good, good dog.” She put it back, and said, “Now ‘ou be such a good dog and leave it there.”

  He licked her knee with a whatever you say.

  “I’m a geek,” Bertram said. “An excellent geek, truth be told. Come look.”

  Continuing along the straight line design of the house, the next room beyond the kitchen was floor-to-ceiling tech. PC towers, laptops, touch screen monitors. A bank of servers. I only guessed at that because of an old Sandra Bullock movie.

  “So your hobby is techy stuff.”

  Bertram laughed and called Doofus over for an ear rub. “No, my hobby is Edwin Tyrell.” His fingers pounded the keyboard and six monitors lit up. Nooks, crannies, the planks on the dock, the boathouse. “La Maison Tyrell,” he said. “The outside, anyway. All ninety acres. The other two hundred and ten are woods to the end of his property line.”

  “That’s amazing. Is that legal?”

  “Of course not. But I’m bored, and what’s the harm? I don’t have audio hooked up and that’s the part that can land you behind bars.”

  CHAPTER 35

  “Which are the family room windows?” Maybe I could hurry along the home invasion and fly home with the grumpy, judgmental pilot at the break of dawn.

  More key pounding. “There,” I said. “East wing, first floor corner. The family room. The murders. It’s a famous room around these parts.”

  “I know. Right? Since my accident, that mansion is kind of what I do, especially because it’s across the river from our house.”

  “Like in the Great Gatsby,” Evelyn added. “You can see his dock from our back door on the other side of the Miles. Maybe a hundred yards east.”

  “Can you tell if Edwin’s at home?”

  “No sign of him for the last couple of days. He has a horse farm in Virginia. He could be there, or anywhere in the world he wants to be. Why?”

  “Just curious.”

  “You’re staying over, won’t you?” Evelyn asked. “Say you will. That way I can drive you back in the morning and you can introduce me to that Paul Bracken of yours.”

  Pavlov’s dog broke into a barking frenzy and trotted off searching for the object of his desire along the length of the coop.

  “Doofus thinks Paul’s wowzer, too.”

  “Ooooo, you just have to stay. Great minds and all.”

  Anyone who thought Doofus was a great mind had my vote. “Can’t argue with that logic.” I could study the file and figure out a way to get to Edwin’s after everyone was asleep. Paul had to get his FAA appointed eight hours, so I’d be off his radar. Everything was coming together nicely.

  “I left my glasses in the car,” Evelyn said. “Your pilot got me so turned around—wowzer. I’ll be right—”

  “José! I left José in the car!” I jumped up to follow her out.

  “Stay with Bertie. I’ll bring José in. Poor little guy. But I know there won’t be any bugs left in my car.”

  “Thanks, Evelyn. He’s probably still on the dashboard. He doesn’t bite, or anything.”

  “I’m from circus folk, remember. Lions and tigers and geckos.” She headed out of the room with Doofus close behind.

  “Listen up,” Bertram said after the front door closed. “I know you want to get into Edwin’s—”

  “Why would—”

  “No time,” he said, looking past me to the front door. “Willie called. We play dots over the phone. Don’t ask. He told me he just gave the pretty lady Mr. Meanie’s file.

  “I know about your friend, Jeep. Willie gave him the same folder. Willie doesn’t grasp the concept of secret-keeping.”

  “I see that now,” I said. “Look, Bertram, I’m just searching for answers—”

  “Another talent I’ve honed since landing in this chair is who to trust. Doofus? José Gecko? Come on, you gotta trust a girl like that.”

  He leaned into a monitor. “I don’t see any activity. No guards. The dogs aren’t out.”

  “Dogs?” Not happy about dogs.

  “Dobermans. Just yell, Platz or Aus, and you might be good—and keep your throat protected.”

  “What is that? Platz? German for medic? Coroner?”

  “Just keep your throat under wraps.”

  Circus folk. Chicken coops. Arian dogs. No wonder I felt so at home. The tension in my neck was back.

  “When I bought this place, there was a beat up kayak in the boathouse out back,” he said, still tapping away at the keyboard. “Maybe it’ll get you to his dock, if you insist on doing this. Let me check the GPS on your phone. I’ll set the coordinates of Edwin’s boathouse in case you get turned around.”

  I handed him my cell. “Mind if I have a looksee out back?”

  “Help yourself.”

  Edwin’s mansion was a mansion. Two hundred years old, made of solid brick and probably stolen money. Most generational fortunes grew from pirated goods or land grants handed out by English aristocracy while Mother England still had a handle on the rambunctious colonies.

  The Tyrell mansion was dark and the grounds quiet which could mean the dogs were kenneled, or they were eating their handlers.

  “It looks like a mausoleum,” I said to Bertram as I closed the door.

  “It is a mausoleum.” He wheeled into the kitchen and set my phone on the table. “You’re all set. I installed an app on your home screen—orange with an anchor logo.”

  “Here we are,” Evelyn said as she entered the kitchen with Doofus at her heels. She pinched José by the tip of his tail like a used tissue, holding a gun to his head.

  Not to worry. She turned the gun on me.

  CHAPTER 36

  There are things you see right in front of your eyes that are so bizarre you can’t grasp what it is you are seeing. Like the A on your report card in trigonometry. The car with a bow on top because it’s your birthday. Or like Mrs. Borden screaming around the upstairs bedroom because Lizzie wants to give her forty whacks.

  It was like that.

  Bertram spoke first. “Evelyn? Evie?”

  “Bertram?”

  My turn. “Evelyn, you’re hurting José.”

  My little guy was twisting in the wind. He tried to grasp her thumb and pull himself up but she was twirling him by the tip of his tail and he couldn’t get leverage. His flap was on full alert.

  “My guess is you want something.”

  “And you’d be right, Miss Hollywood Big Shot,” Evelyn said coolly, spinning, spinning my helpless lizard.

  “Give me José and then we’ll talk about what it is you want.”

  I took a step toward her and Doofus came with me. He sat and watched his friend trapped in the spin cycle of the crazy lady’s hand. He fidgeted and whined, confused.

  “Evie, give Jaqie her gecko. What’s wrong with you?”

  “You’re what’s wrong. Bertram.” Twirling. She crossed to the sink and suspended José inches over the garbage disposal. “It’s your money, your house, your stupid, sorry, pathetic back. This one,” she toggled the gun at me, “is my ticket out. Madrille Keiser will pay a king’s ransom to get her back.

  “I know everything about you, Jaqie Shanahan. Local girl hits the big time. I’ve wanted to go to Hollywood since I was little. I was going to be a movie star, not some circus freak. I even mailed you a script but you never bothered to write me back.”

  “Evelyn, I get so many scripts, especially after Murder at Manderley. But I hand all the scripts over to my agent in case something catches her eye.”

  “Doesn’t matter now. I know all about Puerto Rico, Jeep McBain, how the cops are looking for you. And whadda ya think? Madrille Keiser puts you on her hotshot plane with the gorgeous pilot and drops you right in my lap.”

  “I’ll call Maddie as soon as you give me José.”

  “Bertram will call Maddie.”

  Dead calm oozed up my spine. Was I willing to go to prison over a gecko? I laughed to myself. A gecko, no. José? Oh, my, yes.

  “You won’t be laughing in about a minute. Tell Bertie the number. Can you dial, Bertie? Or do I have to do that for you, too?”

  “Move José away from the sink,” I said. “No José, no phone call.”

  She did do that. Evelyn stepped away from the sink. She stopped and held José in the air like a tree ornament. “He’s fine. Make the call.”

  I said, “Bertram, Maddie’s calls are routed through a coded number. Go to Contacts, select MK and text 5-2-7-4-3. Hang up and she’ll call right back. 5-2-7-4-3.”

  “Aren’t you all that?” Evelyn sneered. “Secret codes to Hollywood movie stars.”

  “I can get you a meeting,” I said trying to calm her down. “Maddie and I are working up a new treatment. I will write a part specifically for you.”

  The pink hair that fooled me into thinking she was so sweet quivered like barbed wire. “Not now. Now, all I want is money.”

  José’s toes stuck out like spokes on a wheel. He folded and unfolded his bright red flap like a NASCAR flagman. Danger ahead. Doofus wanted to sniff his buddy but Evelyn held him higher out of reach so Doofus presented her with the kitchen towel like before. She had called him a ‘good, good dog’ the last time he’d done it.

  When Evelyn kicked the towel, José’s last straw broke. His body fell away from his tail and he landed on his old friend’s back and scurried to Doofus’s collar and wrapped all four legs around it in a death grip.

  Evelyn took one look at the piece of leftover lizard still gyrating between her fingertips, screamed blue-bloody murder, tripped over the dish towel and crash-landed on the floor. So much for tough circus folk. The tail hit inches from her face, and I swear, it was doing the conga straight to her ear canal.

  In college, for some inexplicable reason, I excelled in the broad jump. Hats off to muscle memory because I was on her like white on rice. Rolling, grunting, arms and legs. She had a thirty-pound advantage, but I had Dead Calm and three-inch heels.

  “Hold Doofus,” I hollered at Bertram from a deep recess of Evelyn’s armpit. “Be careful of José.”

  “I’m calling the cops.”

  “No. Call Maddie.” The pink chick had me in a respectable head lock. “Maddie. 5-2-7-4-3. Trust me.”

  José’s tail had passed to lizard heaven. It wasn’t moving, so I couldn’t use that against her. I slithered across the floor toward my pointy shoe.

  Evelyn fired a shot into the ceiling. “Oh, no, you don’t.” She aimed the gun at her brother and snarled in my face. “Do as I say or I’ll put him out of my misery.”

  I crawled over to Bertram’s chair and screwed my skirt back to its original mid-thigh shape. Evelyn would have to shoot her lottery ticket before she got to Bertram.

  “Mind if I sit in your lap?”

  He grinned at me in the middle of the madness. “I am required by law to warn you that it’s only my legs that don’t work.”

  The kitchen filled up with a tangerine glow that throbbed off the walls. A seven-foot column of yellow-and-blue flame spit fireworks to the ceiling then vanished.

  “Cool, huh?” Jeep said. “Can I turn this chick into a toad? Puh-lease let me turn her into a toad.”

  “Can you do that, Mr. Day Late and a Dollar Short?”

  “Always with the chip on the shoulder.”

  Evelyn pulled herself up by the oven door handle. “Shut up and get off Bertram.” Since she had no reaction to the presence of the late, great Jeep McBain in her kitchen, I assumed the pleasure was mine alone.

  Bertram rolled us in his chair in front of her. “You’re not going to hurt anyone, Evelyn. I’ll give you all the money you want, but let Jaqie go.”

  “I like this guy,” Jeep said. “I won’t turn him into a toad. Now, don’t you have a mansion to burgle?”

  “Can I just go?” How does a tangerine glow guarantee anyone’s safety, especially if the crazy lady can’t even see it?

  “No, you can’t!” she squawked, channeling a chicken from the other side.

  “I’ve got your back, Jaq.” Jeep pounded the table and the salt and pepper shakers fell over and rolled off the edge. “I have always wanted to say that.”

  The tumbling condiments took Evelyn’s mind off the gun for a shadow of a second. I wrapped my hand around the arm of Bertram’s wheelchair for support and caught his baby sister with a colossal right hook to the solar plexus. The gun went flying and I flew after it.

  We soon had Evelyn nicely trussed to a chair and sitting at the table where an hour before we’d been a cozy group dipping our toasted cheese sandwiches in tomato soup. Time flies.

  Doofus took José for a ride into the quiet safety zone of the living room. I set his jewelry box under the coffee table with a jelly jar lid of water and a lettuce leaf to hide under in case he wanted some alone time.

  My other guys were still in the kitchen. Bertram was staring at Evelyn like she was somebody he should know.

  “Bertram, don’t make any decisions until I get back. Evelyn’s stressed out. I’m not going to press any charges.”

  “Nice skirt, Legs,” Jeep said. “You never wear skirts. And killer shoes. Wait just a minute. Is that a handsome pilot outfit?”

  “Goof. Is that still a word?” I was so glad to see Jeep. He looked sharp for a dead guy. “Keep an eye on the clan, would you? José’s hiding on Doofus. He needs to rest until I get back.”

  I noticed that Bertram did not react at all to any of my conversation with the invisible man. Maybe he thought I’d flipped out along with his baby sister. Evelyn’s mouth was taped shut so if she had an opinion, it was moot.

  “Jeep is here,” I said straight out to Bertram, “in the room with us.”

  “I can hear him. We had gypsies in our family.” He waved a wax-on wave. “Hey, man.”

  “Great!” Jeep said. “Guy talk! A man cave. A girl who can’t join in. Doesn’t get better than that. Hey, Bert, I can turn your sis into a toad, if you want.” To me, he said, “Now, go solve this case and be done with it. Take your phone. If you need me, call me.”

  I whispered in Jeep’s ear, “I know you got my back. Think you can do anything for Bertram’s?”

  “I’ll check in with Raoul. He’s the one with the wizard book. So go trespass and I’ll pop over later.”

  CHAPTER 37

  I lined up sheaves of paperwork on Bertram’s back porch picnic table, backward, according to date. I always worked mazes the same way so I couldn’t lose. The porch light was handy, but I could’ve used José’s expertise with the canopy of bugs dive-bombing my face. But my little soldier was currently on R and R.

  I digested it all. The Butcher’s police reports were long and dry, devoid of drama, they said the same thing. No forced entry. The family members were bound hand and foot, which might suggest more than one killer. Three victims were shot once in the forehead. The girl’s fatal shot was to her temple. The coroner stated the shootings were the cause of death.

  Four casings, but only three bullets recovered. The ballistic tests did not turn anything up, so the lack of a fourth bullet didn’t seem to matter much back in those days.

  Mercifully, the dismemberment came after. Father, mother, sister, brother. That was the order of the killings according to the medical examiner, based on reasons I didn’t understand.

  I shoveled the papers together and crammed them back into the folder and crammed the folder into my bag. Most of what I’d heard rumored over the years was in there and, surprisingly, not exaggerated. It would be hard to exaggerate what had happened in that room.

  What I did not return to the folder was an envelope marked Crime Scene Photos. There was no getting around it. A picture, a thousand words. I knew the drill, but did I have the stomach for it?

  I undid the clasp and removed the eight-by-tens, face down. I stood. I sat. I stood. Movie set blood, dead people who raced to the catering truck as soon as the director called ‘cut,’ that’s what I knew. Not the nice lady who bought my Thin Mints and ended up with her head lopped off.

  Jeep and Bertram were in the kitchen having a blast. No two men deserved a good time more than those two.

  I looked at the pictures.

  I threw up.

  Time to find me a kayak.

  A journey starts with the first step.

  ~~^~~

  It wasn’t a high porch, so I didn’t fall far. But I got a skinned knee and a broken shoe so I threw it at the back door.

  Jeep slid through the back wall. “You still here?”

  “I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I said from the stoop. “I read the reports and saw the pictures. Anything, do you have anything at all that can help me?”

  Jeep stared at the ceiling, the shadows of moths. “You know,” he said, “they paint porch ceilings blue to cut down on bugs. This is more green than blue.”

  “Blue ceilings? Do you even care about this case? Do you want to be with Clarice, or have you pulled a McBain and are ready to move on to the next? Oh, wait. You can’t move on—”

  “Shush.” Jeep sat on the table. “Toss me the crime scene pics. You do have those?”

  I waited on the cold cement without moving, barely breathing, not batting at the thing biting my big toe. If Jeep was having any sort of breakthrough, I did not want to distract him at all. He spent a minute on each yellowing photograph, examining them at different angles, holding them closer to the light. Jeep dealt them into four piles and studied the top photo of each pile. Finally, he chose one picture.

  It was of the little girl, Abigail. He held it up so I could see. It was her head. Only her head, propped up in the fireplace, eyes open, as if marveling at her family strewn about the room like carpet samples.

  “There is something about green,” Jeep said. “That particular shade of verdigris is from oxidized bronze, I think.” He shook off a body chill. “That’s it. All I got.” He handed me the pictures. “Don’t forget your shoe.” He melted through the door back to the man cave and l was on my own.

 

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