Death at the crossroads, p.1
Death At the Crossroads, page 1
part #2 of A Camelia Belmont Mystery Series
DEATH
AT THE
CROSSROADS
A Camelia Belmont Mystery
PJ Donison
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel (unless otherwise specified) are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Or maybe it’s projection. Or wishful thinking.
None of the material in this book was created by AI, including the cover.
Death At The Crossroads
A Camelia Belmont Mystery
Copyright © 2024 by Pamela J.P. Donison.
www.pjdonison.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews or articles.
ISBN: 978-1-7780387-3-0
First Edition, May 2024
Cover Design: https://100covers.com/
Thank you for purchasing my book!
Get updates and information on
new releases, deals, discounts, and more
when you join my mailing list.
https://pjdonison.com/
Already a subscriber? Thanks so much!
DEATH
AT THE
CROSSROADS
Book 2
Camelia Belmont Mystery Series
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 0 - Dead End
Chapter 1 - Ms. Irrelevant
Chapter 2 - Side-Car Sonia
Chapter 3 - Sandbagged
Chapter 4 -Suzanne’s Deadly Secret
Chapter 5 - True Confession
Chapter 6 - Love Triangle
Chapter 7 - Wrong Way
Chapter 8 - Paper Tigers
Chapter 9 - Home Invasion
Chapter 10 - Head On
Chapter 11 - Rough Road Ahead
Chapter 12 - Breakdown Lane
Chapter 13 - Emergency Exit
Chapter 14 - No Way Out
Chapter 15 - Rest Area Ahead
Chapter 16 - Afterburn
Chapter 17 - Steep Grade
Chapter 18 - Power Play
Chapter 19 - Parent Trap
Chapter 20 - Detour
Chapter 21 - Men At Work
Chapter 22 - Overheard
Chapter 23 - Hope & Charity
Chapter 24 - Scout’s Honor
Chapter 25 - Little White Lies
Chapter 26 - DUI
Chapter 27 - Reduced Speed Ahead
Chapter 28 - Rolling Stop
Chapter 29 - Revelations
Chapter 30 - U-Turn Ahead
Chapter 31 - The Mickey Alibi
Chapter 32 - Night Moves
Chapter 33 - Farewell Tour
Chapter 34 - DQ Drive Thru
Chapter 35 - Getaway Car
Chapter 36 - Home Stretch
Chapter 37 - Bedtime Stories
Chapter 38 - Dangerous Curves
Chapter 39 - Death Knock
Chapter 40 - Crashed
Chapter 41 - Caution: Slippery Conditions
Chapter 42 - Clean Up Crew
Chapter 43 - Tsunami Hazard
Chapter 44 - Just The Facts
Chapter 45 - Lovers and Other Losers
Chapter 46 - For The Record
Chapter 47 - Tick Tock
Chapter 48 - Out Of Order
Chapter 49 - Her Father’s Daughter
Chapter 50 - Drunk at Durant’s
Chapter 51 - Malice Aforethought
Chapter 52 - Daddy’s Girl
Chapter 53 - Unlikely Allies
Chapter 54 - Friends In Low Places
Chapter 55 - Rules of Evidence
Chapter 56 - Collision Course
Chapter 57 - Majority Rules
Chapter 58 - Exit Ramp Ahead
Chapter 59 - ’Til Death Do Us Part
Chapter 60 - The Death Card
Chapter 61 - Road to Freedom
Chapter 62 - Alternate Route
Helpful Links
Author's Note
About The Author
Excerpt from Death Of The Butcher
For in the long run, either through a lie, or through truth, people were bound to give themselves away.
Agatha Christie
Do we loathe our masters behind a facade of love - or do we love them behind a facade of loathing?
Aravind Adiga
0
Dead End
Saturday, March 19, 11:49 pm
Kaitlyn Fischer loosely gripped the steering wheel with one hand, shifting gears with the other, as she sped to Aaron Anders’ home in Paradise Valley. Her belly was taut with anticipation of the night ahead.
Just minutes ago, when she flashed him the keys, Aaron gave her a sly nod and secretive smile, playing it cool in front of everyone at the annual AndersLaw firm party. But she knew what it meant. She wouldn’t have to sneak out on her dumbass husband for much longer. They’d come to the crossroads of their affair, and Aaron had chosen her.
The only thing holding them back now was his wife, but Death was already gunning for the current Mrs. Anders. It was only a matter of time. Especially if—as Kaitlyn suspected—Aaron was actually going to follow through with the Sheridan Gambit, like she’d suggested.
But no matter how it came about, she was ready. Ready to take her place at Aaron Anders’ side in the privileged legal empire he’d created. Ready to flaunt her role as mistress of that fabulous hillside compound instead of hiding out at his downtown condo. With one of the country’s top litigators under her spell, everything she’d ever dreamed of—wealth, power, prestige—would fall around her shoulders like a queen’s mantle. She was made for that life.
Kaitlyn glanced up to the clear, black sky above the glow of the city, where a tiny star winked at her from the bowl of a buttery crescent moon.
A good omen.
Even though it was Saturday night, the more respectable Paradise Valley residents were already safely tucked behind their security gates while she raced down the hill, top down, wind whipping her hair against her face. Buzzed on French wine, she downshifted the vintage baby blue Triumph, slowing for the yellow traffic signal in the empty intersection ahead.
The lights flashed to green.
Another good omen.
She smiled as she upshifted to third, accelerating, feeling the little lurch of forward momentum as she approached the intersection.
A burst of light on her left.
Headlights loomed.
Too fast. Too close.
She braced herself against the seat, her foot jammed on the brake.
Too late.
Chunks of glass fell around her as the truck hit the driver-side door.
Metal screeched as pain knifed through her shoulder.
She gripped the steering wheel, but the car was out of her control.
In a tiny, slow motion sliver of time she registered the traffic lights.
Green. All green.
The dump truck folded the Triumph around the light post on the northwest corner, crushing her into the steering wheel. The impact sent gravel flying all over the intersection.
Kaitlyn’s mouth filled with the coppery tang of blood.
Her cell phone was ringing, the sound drifting further and further away.
Saturday, March 20, 12:23 AM
Detective Sergeant Jose “Moony” Luna mapped out the accident scene in his head as he gathered up bits of paper fluttering around the intersection.
Car headed south. Truck headed west. Driver side impact. Passenger side crushed against the light pole.
Damn shame, too. Looks like a sweet old TR4.
Nothing here to warrant putting pants on for, but it was Paradise Valley Police Department protocol to be called out on a fatality. Even just a routine car accident. He swiped a calloused hand across gritty eyes to focus on the deceased, cataloguing identifiers in his notebook.
Blond hair, red dress, and a blood soaked mess.
Not much else to go on. He stepped around to the driver’s side and peered into the wreckage—yep, they were for sure gonna need dental records.
Moony crossed himself and muttered a quick Hail Mary.
Shuffling through the papers in his hand, he found the car registration. Suzanne Anders. He let out a low whistle.
“Shit, man. Who’s gonna do the death knock?” he said, to no one in particular. “No way am I gonna be the one to tell Aaron Anders his wife just died.”
Waylon “Tank” Sherman, freshly promoted to the Criminal Investigations Unit and Moony’s new partner, placed another cone in the intersection.
“What’s the big deal?”
Moony shook his head. “Anders. He’s the big deal. AndersLaw? Ever heard of it? The guy is a legendary asshole. So, if you wanna be the one to knock on his door at,” he glanced at his watch, “oh-dark-thirty to tell him the missus is scattered all over the intersection, be my guest.”
Tank muttered something.
Moony cocked his head and held up his hand. “Hang on. I hear a cell phone. Where is it?”
One of the fire department crew pointed into the wrecked Triumph.
“It’s in there somew
Moony pulled his wallet out of his hip pocket, licked his thumb, and fished out a ten-dollar bill. He turned to Tank and handed him the money.
“Grab us some coffee,” he said. “And find out if they’ve located the dump truck driver. We need to talk to that guy ASAP.”
“There’s a lot of desert between these houses.” Tank looked up the hill. “Chopper’s on its way, but he could be anywhere up there. I’ll go grab that coffee now, Boss.” Tank took off at a jog.
What I wouldn’t give to have that energy again.
Moony turned back to the wreck, assessing the painstaking job ahead of him.
It was going to be a very long night.
1
Ms. Irrelevant
Monday, January 11
Monday. Uggh. Here we go again.
Camelia Belmont sipped her third cup of coffee while she skimmed her notes. Suzanne Anders, wife of one of the most powerful lawyers in Arizona, was waiting in the conference room, ready to retain. But it wasn’t a compliment. She knew what it meant: all the top tier divorce litigators had declined. With good reason.
Back in December, when she’d briefly met with Suzanne to initiate her divorce from the notorious Aaron Anders of AndersLaw fame, Camelia hadn’t committed to represent her. She’d only agreed to file the Petition and attend a preliminary hearing right before Christmas vacation, based on the understanding it was a limited appearance. Because who in their right mind would want to face off with Anders and his bulldog, Spencer Ashcroft? But then, before the hearing even began, Anders had a heart attack right in the courtroom.
Was that only a month ago?
Now, the hearing had been rescheduled and Suzanne wanted to retain. Camelia headed to the conference room, balancing her coffee along with the file and a fresh pad of paper. She pushed the door open with her hip and dropped the file on the table before settling in.
“Good morning, Suzanne, and happy new year. How was your holiday?”
“It was a mess, no thanks to Aaron. I have got to be divorced as soon as possible,” Suzanne tapped a coral pink fingernail on the conference table for emphasis, “or my good nature is going out the window. Along with Aaron, if he doesn’t watch it.”
“That good, huh?” Camelia said.
“I know it’s not as easy as it sounds, but I want this over with.” Suzanne pressed her fingertips to her temples. “The whole thing just gives me a headache.”
“Did something happen over the holidays?” Camelia’s mind flickered back to her own sad, stressful holiday: her Auntie Freda's unexpected death, alienating her extended family, and, ultimately, contributing to her cousins’ arrest.
“Other than Aaron milking his heart attack for all it was worth, and making me out as some kind of heartless monster?”
“So, he’s recovered, I take it?” Camelia asked.
“Rather quickly, if you ask me. He was back at work within days. And if the kids weren’t on his side to begin with, they are now. I’m the mean old mommy thrashing dear daddy for a divorce when he almost died of a heart attack.” Suzanne rolled her eyes. “Of course, Aaron’s saying the stress of the divorce led to the heart attack. It’s complete bullshit, but they bought it.”
From what Camelia knew of Anders, it wasn’t a surprise he would use his heart attack to get their adult children on his side. The timing couldn’t have been better. Not that he’d planned the heart attack, but it was sure as hell convenient.
“I’m sorry. That has to be frustrating.” Camelia paused as she recalled Aaron’s purple-tinged face, but that wasn’t all she’d noticed that day in Court. “I have to ask, does Aaron have a history of drug use?”
“What?” Suzanne laughed.
“I’m serious. I saw the Narcan box on the stretcher when the medics were wheeling him out of the courtroom, Narcan is only used for—”
“I know what it’s used for. I spent 25 years in healthcare. But I don’t think . . . I mean, Aaron?” Suzanne shook her head. “He’s way too uptight for that kind of thing.”
“Just the same, if Aaron’s using your money for his addiction, it gives us leverage,” Camelia said.
Suzanne’s perfectly arched eyebrows shot up. “Addicted? Aaron? Not unless it’s old Scotch and Viagra.”
“His face had the purple tinge, a classic sign of fentanyl overdose. And then there’s the heart attack. Opioids increase the risk of cardiovascular events. That, along with the Narcan package, makes me think we should subpoena his medical records. If we can prove he’s using something, it gives you the upper hand.” Camelia would need to press any advantage she could get.
Suzanne shook her head again, more adamantly. “There’s no way Aaron is using fentanyl or anything like that. He’s done a line of coke now and then, just like everyone else down at the courthouse, but that’s not what drives him. It would be completely out of character.”
“If you say so.” Camelia shrugged. “But based on who we’re dealing with, your divorce won’t be a slam dunk, so any little bit of leverage would help. Even with a bargaining chip, you’re in for a long, hard battle. Are you up for it?”
“I . . . um.” She twisted a tissue in her hand, her clear blue eyes welling with the promise of tears.
Camelia let the silence expand, pressing against the teak paneled walls and floor-to-ceiling windows. The hush deepened. Usually, given an expectant opening and a bit of time, truth came gushing out like blood from a bone-deep cut. All of Suzanne’s sins and faults, everything Camelia could imagine—and many things she had never dreamed of—would eventually come to light if she could just hold out.
But just when she thought Suzanne was ready to reveal the dirt beneath the veneer, Camelia watched her prospective client rein it back in, blinking back shiny tears, pulling down the shades on her vulnerability.
Suzanne gave Camelia a knowing smile. “I know who I’m up against. The real question is, are you ready for the fallout if you serve him with those discovery requests? Because if you go after Aaron’s medical records based on a suspicion of drug abuse, he’ll completely flip out.”
Camelia didn’t bother to soften the edge in her voice, hoping it would make Suzanne think twice about retaining. “Probably, but that’s his problem, no matter who represents you. My problem—if you want to call it that—is to get you the best settlement possible. Assuming you’re willing to let me run the case the way I see fit.” Camelia flipped to a page in her file. “I see Tina Halston referred you. If I may ask, why are you here instead of Sherman Wright or one of the other big firms?”
Suzanne took a deep breath. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but no one will touch my case, thanks to Aaron. I called Tina for a referral because we’re friendly and I’ve known her for years. She thought we'd be a good fit because guys like Aaron don’t intimidate you, and you don’t have a problem taking down powerful men with bad attitudes.” Suzanne smiled and leaned back in her chair.
It was true. Camelia did relish bringing men like Anders to heel. But she wasn’t keen on what came with it: testosterone-fueled posturing and an avalanche of paper. Because that’s what lawyers like him did. And Anders didn’t just have money to burn, he had an entire firm at his beck and call. He would drown Camelia in legal bullshit. But Suzanne wanted to retain and, despite all the downsides, even knowing she was the last choice, Camelia was going to take the case. All because it could be the tipping point to make partner. And, with any luck, she’d get to dish out a bit of comeuppance to the Almighty Anders.
“So, I’m Ms. Irrelevant?” Camelia laughed.
“Of course you’re not irrelevant!” Suzanne protested. “I need your help.”
“That’s football talk for the final draft pick.” Camelia smirked and tapped her pen on her legal pad.
“Oh,” Suzanne laughed in response. “I get it. So, are you up for a long, hard battle?”
“I’m not intimidated by old warhorses like your husband. But he doesn’t need to know that,” Camelia said. “Seriously, though, my job is to get you divorced as efficiently as possible. And that means finding common ground, getting some basic cooperation and concessions from your husband and his attorney. There’s no reason we can’t settle this. But if Spencer Ashcroft and Aaron Anders can’t be reasonable, they’ll regret the day they met me.”
