Tressed to kill, p.22
Tressed to Kill, page 22
Ive got her cell phone number somewhere, from the committee, I said.
We cant call her, Mom said, giving me a reproving look. Something like this needs to be done face-to-face. Shed just hang up on us if we called and accused her new husband of being a gold-digging murderer.
The sins of the fathers will be visited on their children, Althea said. The DuBois family is coming by its just desserts.
I never did think much of that particular passage, Mom said with asperity. Gods not punishing Simone because her father did something wicked a quarter century ago. Thats not the way He works.
Wed better get going, then, Althea said, pushing herself slowly to her feet. Damn, Im too old to be sitting on the floor. My behinds gone to sleep. She rubbed the afflicted area.
I helped her up. Rachel bounced up with the flexibility of youth and gave my mom a hand.
We should call Special Agent Dillon, I said.
Rachel can call him and wait here for him so he can see the photograph she took, Mom suggested. We dont have time to fill him in on everything. We need to warn Simone now.
Rachel pushed her lips out in a rebellious pout. Youre not going to let me come with you, are you? You think Im too young. Well, Im not. Im going to graduate, like, next year. Im old enough to join the military and almost old enough to vote, so why cant I come?
Momentarily distracted by the thought of goth Rachel in a military uniform, I recovered quickly as Mom said, Rachel, honey, how would I ever explain it to your folks if something happened to you? We may be completely wrong about Mr. Hutchinson, but if were not, and hes with Simone when we arrive, he might get angry.
Well, like duh, Rachel said. If you call him a two-timing murderer to his face. She rolled her eyes.
I didnt take the time to explain that accusing Greg of murder to his face wasnt our preferred approach. Well try to get Simone alone, I said, hatching a plan. Ill tell her I have to talk to her about committee business.
Thats good, Althea said. You can call her while were driving over there. Well take my car.
Leaving Rachel sulkily dialing police headquarters, we hustled out the side door and climbed into Altheas old Ford LTD. Formerly maroon, it had been faded by the sun to a dismal pinkish color. The car must be nearly as old as I was, I thought, thunking the heavy back door closed and fastening my seat belt. Mom had barely shut her door before Althea gunned the engine and reversed down the driveway. We bumped off the curb and onto the street with a scraping sound and sparks from the front bumper. It was wise to have your life insurance paid up when riding with Althea behind the wheel. She seemed to view traffic laws such as speed limits and stop signs as loose guidelines and had a habit of facing whoever she was talking to so the car veered from one side of the road to the other. She was exceeding the speed limit by a good twenty miles per hour, but both Mom and I knew enough not to distract her by commenting on it. At least she wasnt trying to talk, so her eyes stayed on the road.
We were three-quarters of the way to the DuBois house when a thought struck me. Didnt Philip inherit the house? I asked. What if Simone and Greg arent living there?
Well, nows a fine time to bring that up, Althea said, craning her head around to frown at me. The car headed for the opposite curb and a man walking two beagles. His eyes widened at the sight of death coming at him in the form of a runaway LTD.
Mom grabbed the wheel. Althea, pay attention, she said, wrenching the car into its proper lane.
I let my breath out and realized I was gripping the seat so hard my fingers were cramping. Ill call Philip and find out. Damn. I dont have his number.
Were almost there now, Mom said as I dialed directory assistance. Well just knock and ask him.
Yeah, he wont think thats strange, Althea muttered.
Two minutes later we pulled into the circular drive fronting the DuBois family home, a mini-mansion that looked like it belonged in the English countryside. Althea crunched over a border of Johnny-jump-ups and pink ice plant lining the oyster-shell driveway, and I leaped out of the back seat before she came to a full stop. Ill be right back, I flung over my shoulder.
Racing up the front steps, I rang the bell and pounded on the front door.
It opened to reveal Susan DuBois, an attractive blonde whose bee-stung lips looked fuller than they had at Constances wake. She must have had them plumped. Grace! What on earth? Her raised brows expressed her disapproval of my knocking technique.
Hi, Susan. I need to see Simone, but I dont have her address. Can you tell me where shes staying?
Whos that in the car? she asked, peering over my shoulder.
My mom and Althea Jenkins, I said. The address?
Suspicion lurked in her gray-green eyes. Why are you so all fired up about finding Simone? Its not like you were ever best friends.
Its about the mayors committee, I said. Ive got some data I need to give her to put in the PowerPoint presentation.
Well, I dont see how thats such an emergency, Susan said. But she rattled off the address.
Thanks, I yelled over my shoulder, trotting back to the car.
Well! Susan stared after us as the tires spewed oyster shells and Althea slewed onto the road like a moonshine smuggler trying to outrun the revenuers. I waved through the back window.
Simone and her new husband were renting a Cape Cod- style house that backed to the river at Sea Mist Plantation. It was at the west end of the Plantation, in an area just being developed. The Hutchinsons had no neighbors yet, only the framed shell of a house on the opposite side of the culde-sac. The construction workers had knocked off for the day, and the area hummed with crickets, owls, and other critters beginning to stir as dusk descended. The three of us were grimly silent, infected by an urgency that was hard to explain. Althea stopped the car with the passenger-side wheels on the sidewalk. We all piled out and hurried up the walkway to the glossy blue front door. When I pushed it, the doorbell ding-donged deep in the house, and we fidgeted on the small stoop. No one came. I rang again, trying to peer in the narrow windows that flanked the door. Blinds prevented me from seeing much except a strip of oak floor. Althea cut across the grass and stood on tiptoe to look into the garage. Then she walked around the side of the house and stood on tiptoe to peer over the fence.
Car is there, she announced, rejoining us. Cant see over the fence.
Whose car? Mom asked.
She shrugged. Dark green Camry with New York plates.
Since none of us knew what Simone drove, we didnt know if it was her car, but I thought it must be, since Id seen Greg driving a BMW when he picked her up at the town hall.
Here, let me, Althea said, shouldering me out of the way. She banged the brass knocker hard enough to startle two squirrels chasing each other in the yard. They scampered up a dogwood sapling.
Footsteps sounded inside the house, and a mans disgruntled voice said, Coming.
We stepped back as the door swung open and Greg Hutchinson stood in the doorway, looking casually elegant in belted khaki shorts and a crisp white shirt with the top button undone to show a spritz of chest hair. His shoulders almost filled the doorframe, and the look on his face hovered between welcoming and exasperated. When he saw me, he forced a smile. Hello, Grace. He looked from Mom to Althea but didnt say anything.
I introduced them, worried by the look of hostility on Altheas face. Were looking for Simone, I said. Is she in?
Im sorry. She isnt here right now. Ill tell her you came by.
He started to close the door, but I stopped it with my hand. Its kind of important, I said with an apologetic smile. I have some data she needs to include in the PowerPoint slide show shes making for the mayor. Do you know when shell be back?
Oh. He hesitated, his hand still on the knob. Im not sure, exactly. She went shopping. You know how women are when they smell a sale. His grin faded as the three of us glared at him. Look, just give me the stuff, and Ill see that she gets it when she gets back.
I scrambled for a way around his reasonable suggestion. Uh, its in the car.
Ill fetch it, Mom said, taking her time about returning to the car and pretending to search the back seat. Greg tapped his foot.
And I need to explain some of it to her, I said.
Good thinking, baby girl, Althea murmured.
Then leave your number, and she can call you, he said impatiently. He raked a hand through his brassy gold hair. Im sorry, but Im working on a real estate deal
Ill call her now and maybe we can meet up with her, I said, pulling out my cell phone. Im sorry we bothered you. Finding the entry for Simone Cell, I dialed.
Wait, Greg said, reaching for the phone.
I jerked it back out of reach as the strains of My Way sounded from inside the house. We all stared at Greg. Before he could react, Althea had pushed past him, saying, Sounds like shes still here after all. She raised her voice. Simone-honey! Weve got that paperwork you needed.
Hey, he said. You cant
Greg grabbed at her shoulder, but Mom and I bumped against him as we crowded into the foyer. Simone! we called.
The door closed hard behind us, and I heard the deadbolt shoot home. I turned to see Greg pocketing the key, an ugly look on his face. I dont know what you think youre he started when Altheas voice interrupted him.
Oh, my God!
Ignoring Greg, Mom and I hurried in the direction of Altheas voice. We skidded to a stop where the wood floor of the hall gave way to the greenish slate tile of the kitchen. A maple table with four lyre-back chairs dominated an eating nook. The back door to the left of the table was open a crack, and the wet smell of the river drifted in. Simone lay on the floor by the door I assumed opened to the garage, Althea kneeling beside her. Peaches was licking her mistresss face and whining. Two wineglasses sat on the granite counter beside a nearly empty bottle.
Is she? Mom asked.
Shes alive, Althea said, her fingers pressed to Simones neck. But she needs help. You poisoned her, she said to Greg, her gaze flashing from the wineglasses to his face.
Just a little Rohypnol, he said.
He herded us closer to where Althea huddled over Simone, trying to wake her by pinching her cheeks. With a growl that sounded like it came from a dog twice her size, Peaches launched herself at Greg and latched onto his ankle. Get off, you rabid flea, he said, kicking out so hard that Peaches went flying, thumping into the pantry door and lying still.
I caught my breath at the brutality as Mom went to the little dog and stroked her, glaring at Greg.
Rohypnol? The date rape drug? I asked, bewildered.
It has many uses, he said, his eyes cold. Usually it makes women pliable. I must have given her too much, he said, staring at his wifes inanimate form.
Call a doctor, Althea ordered. Its not too late.
He barked out a laugh. A doctor? That would mess up the plan. My poor, dear wife, distraught over her mothers death and our first marital spat, is going to have a car accident tonight. He feigned distress. And Ill be the heart-broken husband
Who inherits Sea Mist Plantation, I said.
So you figured that out, did you? he said, narrowing his eyes. I knew you were getting too close when that girl from the Records division called to say you were looking for my birth certificate. He laughed at my astonished look. Oh, yes. I paid her twenty bucks to let me know if anyone else came around. I told her it had to do with identity theft.
Well, arent you the clever one, Althea said sarcastically. Simone moaned, and Althea chafed her hands.
Not clever enough to discourage this one, he said, nodding toward me. I thought the Molotov cocktail would scare you off, but no, you kept poking your nose in. Even when I planted the sword and egged Simone on to get the salon shut down, thinking it would distract you, you kept chasing after me.
Well, I didnt know it was you until today, I said, but I had nothing better to do once I didnt have a job to go to. I edged a bit away from Mom, thinking that if we were spread out, hed find it harder to control us. Whatever his plan was, I didnt think it included letting us all walk out of here whenever we felt like it. I saw Mom eyeing the back door, probably calculating our chances of reaching it before Greg did something. She inched toward it.
Why did you kill Constance? I asked, trying to distract him so Mom could make a run for it.
Why do you think? he said roughly. It took her a few days, but she recognized me. She suspected I was shamming it with Simone and that I was only after the money. Sea Mist, specifically, because it should have been mine. Mine! Philip DuBois cheated my father. He stole the land from him and then he killed him. His voice rose and he stepped closer, fists clenched at his sides. I was only eleven, but I remember.
Remember what? Althea asked.
He looked down at her as if hed forgotten she was there. Him coming back from that poker game, telling my mom he was going to have it out with Philip DuBois. Him and that other guy.
William, Althea said in a carefully controlled voice. William Jenkins.
Yeah, him, Greg said dismissively.
I didnt think Greg got the connection. And . . . I prompted.
And when he never came home, I knew DuBois had killed him.
Why didnt you ever say something? Althea asked, her upper lip poking out so the lines around her mouth deepened.
My mom, he said. I was afraid that if I said anything, Philip DuBois would kill the rest of us, too. He came by later that week and talked to my mom. I didnt hear it all, but I heard him say we might all be safer if we moved away. He gave her an envelope.
Money, I said.
He nodded. To help with the moving costs, he said. She took itshe had me and my sisters to protect, you knowand we moved. She said she couldnt stay in St. Elizabeth where there were so many bad memories. But I knew the truth. And I vowed that one day Id get back what was rightfully mine.
Even if you had to kill someone to do it, Althea said.
I didnt plan that, he said. He paused, as if listening.
I heard it, too. A scrape of sound out back. Special Agent Dillon! I didnt let my relief show on my face. But you did kill Constance, I said loudly, thinking to cover up the sounds the police made as they approached.
She was going to put an investigator on me. Thats what she said that afternoon outside the salon. That she was hiring a PI. It wouldnt have taken him a day to find out I was already married. Shed tell Simone, and years of planning would go up in smoke. Not that marrying Simone was the original plan. But when I saw her name on the list of attendees for the speed-dating event my friend Bob was setting up, I knew I had to seize the opportunity. My wife agreedshe knew I had to do this. Simone and I hit it off, and things sort of snowballed. At first, I planned to marry her and divorce her, taking Sea Mist in the divorce. But then Constance . . . He frowned, twisting the wedding ring around his finger. After the town hall meeting, I tried to talk her out of investigating me, persuade her that I loved Simone for herself and that the money meant nothing to me, but she wasnt buying it. When she pulled that damned sword out of the car, I lost it. I grabbed it from her and . . . It was self defense.
Hm. A two-hundred-pound man couldnt defend himself against a woman half his size without running her through? I wasnt buying it and I didnt think a jury would, either.
Youre married? Mom asked.
She had sidled much closer to the back door. Run, I urged her mentally, run.
She was too appalled by Gregs confession to make a break for it. To someone other than Simone? Youre a bigamist?
Not for long, a new voice said. The back door opened wider, and Amber stood there, the waitress from Doralynns. With her blond hair slicked back into a ponytail and dressed in black jeans and a hoodie, she looked older somehow. It was hard to think of her as Gregs wife. She stepped into the kitchen and closed the door with a kick of her heel. She now stood between Mom and the door, cutting off the escape route. She held something squat and black in her unbandaged hand. A gun, I thought, with a nervous flutter in my stomach.
Chapter Twenty-three
WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY DOING HERE? AMBER asked Greg.
They just Greg started.
Youre Gregs other wife? Althea asked, her whole face pursing with disapproval.
Im his real wife. Before we could guess her intent, she shoved the gun into Moms back. It crackled and Mom yelped, trying to jump away. Amber kept the device pressed into her back for another few seconds until Mom crumpled to the floor, twitching and moaning.
Mom! I cried, horrified. I started toward her, but Greg grabbed my arm.
Stun gun, Amber said, holding up the device. Shes not dead. Yet. Her cold eyes took in the scene. This is going to be harder, she said to Greg. Get the duct tape.
You cant get rid of three of us, Althea said triumphantly. You cant make three people disappear without any questions.
Questions we can handle as long as theres no evidence, Amber said. One long stride brought her closer to Althea, and she pulled the trigger on the stun gun again. Altheas eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped down atop Simone.
Stop! I yelled, tears starting to my eyes. I wrenched myself away from Greg and ran to my mothers still form. She moaned softly, and her hand spasmed. Greg yanked open a kitchen drawer and rummaged through it. He held the duct tape roll aloft, and Amber gave a satisfied nod.
Tape their hands and feet, she said, pointing to Mom and Althea. You can help us carry them, she said to me, nudging me away from my mother with one knee.
Carry them? Where? My gaze scanned the kitchen as I sought desperately for a way to keep all of us from dying.
To the boat.
Youre going to dump the four of us at sea? A knife block held four wicked-looking blades on the counter. Could I lunge for it and grab a knife before Amber shortcircuited my nervous system with the stun gun? Unlikely.
Not Simone, Greg said, wrapping tape efficiently around Moms wrists. He tore the end with his teeth and started on her ankles. Her foot flicked out like she was trying to kick him, but the electrical charge had robbed her of coordination and power, and he caught the foot easily.
