Whispering hills murder, p.9
Whispering Hills Murder, page 9
“Mr. Ells—”
“Is the killer Susie?” Toby asked as his eyes became dark and narrowed. “It’s Susie, isn’t it? I should have never allowed Foster to bring her onto our team. I assumed the girl was innocent—”
“The killer isn’t Susie,” Patricia assured Toby. “There was a time, earlier in the day, when my mind wondered if she was the killer, but she isn’t.”
“Then the killer is Karan. That’s the only person who is left,” Toby insisted.
“There’s Foster.”
“No!” Toby snapped to his feet and pointed a hard finger at Patricia. “My son isn’t a killer.”
“Calm down, Mr. Ells,” Patricia ordered in a brave voice. “I know Foster isn’t the killer.”
“Then who?” Toby demanded. “Tell me.”
“Not yet,” Patricia replied and then simply pointed to the window. “In time, Mr. Ells, the killer will come out of the storm again—and then you’ll know the truth. In the meantime, all we can do is watch…and wait.”
Chapter Six
It was time to find out what Karan’s story was. Patricia slipped into the creepy kitchen and spotted the woman standing next to an old kitchen sink peeling potatoes with a…knife. Better not make her mad, Patricia warned herself. Even though Trent was standing close to the back door and Ben was preparing what appeared to be a meatloaf on a separate kitchen counter, Patricia had no desire to see if Karan could stab her to death before anyone could stop her.
“Smells good,” she said, smiling at Ben.
Ben kept his eyes on the ground hamburger meat that was sitting in an old green bowl. He picked up a bottle of garlic and added a few sprinkles. “We’re having potato meatloaf,” he explained in a tired voice. “Once Karan gets the potatoes peeled, I’ll shred the potatoes and add them to the ground beef.”
Trent felt his mouth begin to water. The guests lodging at the Dead and Breakfast weren’t the only ones that were hungry. Donuts and sandwiches just weren’t very filling. “Where is Mr. Ells?” he asked Patricia.
“Here,” came Toby’s gruff voice as he appeared in the kitchen doorway. Toby immediately spotted Foster and Susie sitting at the kitchen table together. Foster had his nose shoved into a cell phone. Susie was reading a book. “We’re all accounted for,” he told Trent, rotating his eyes over to Ben. Ben paid him no mind.
Patricia leaned against the kitchen counter that was now Karan’s work station and waited for Toby to sit down. How can I get this woman alone? I need to question her. Patricia looked at Trent. The young cop was busy watching Ben work on the meatloaf. That kid isn’t going to let anyone leave this kitchen…I need to think. “Karan?”
Karan shot a sour eye at Patricia. “What?” she asked in a voice dripping with ice.
“There is something I would like to discuss with you,” Patricia said in a low voice. When Karan narrowed her eyes, Patricia drew in a deep breath and pretended to sound nervous. “You see, last night I had a…dream.”
“A dream?” Karan asked without implying any element of interest.
“A dream.” Patricia nodded, realizing she was catching everyone’s attention. Foster looked up from his cell phone. Susie stopped reading her book. Ben stopped working on the meatloaf. Toby looked at her. Trent tossed a curious eye in her direction. Perfect. “I dreamed of a…murder. I…before I tell everyone my dream, I would like to see what you think first. Maybe we can talk in the hallway?”
“No one leaves this kitchen,” Trent warned.
“The hallway that leads to the bathroom,” Patricia clarified and pointed to the door that was hiding that short, shadowy hallway that led to the diseased bathroom she had reluctantly called Brian in. “I want to see what you think of the dream, Karan. I might…add the dream to the article I plan to write. Or who knows, maybe you can use it?” Patricia made a scared face. “I don’t normally put much stock in dreams, but this one was so…spooky…and so real.”
Karan lowered the knife she was holding. To Patricia’s relief the woman nodded. “It’s possible that you may have dreamed a real occurrence. After all, you are staying in the room Veronica Drakes was murdered in.”
So, you do know a few facts, Patricia thought to herself. You’re not as innocent as you seem. “Officer Trent, can we speak in the hallway? There is no exit.”
“I…guess,” Trent caved. “Make it quick. Gary will be here in about twenty minutes or so.”
“You know us girls…chatter…chatter…chatter,” Patricia said and then hurried to the closed door. “Karan?” Karan glanced around the kitchen and then followed after Patricia. Patricia opened the door and stepped into the dim, cold hallway. This place is enough to make Herman Munster want to take a vacation.
Karan stepped into the hallway behind Patricia and closed the door. “Let’s talk in the bathroom,” Karan ordered.
Patricia hesitated and then agreed. She doubted Karan would try to kill her. Besides, Patricia was pretty certain she knew who the real killer was. The only problem was…she didn’t know if anyone here was connected to the killer. “Sure.”
Karan followed Patricia into the dark, rotted bathroom and closed the door. “Okay, Ms. McKay, you brought me to talk. So. let’s talk.”
Patricia eased close to the bathroom sink. “I did have a dream, Karan,” she confirmed. “I dreamed of Veronica Drakes. That’s the truth. The dream was very scary and very vivid. But…yes, before I tell you about the dream, I would like to talk.”
“You want to know if I killed Lara Braceton?” Karan asked Patricia in a flat tone. She folded her arms and leaned against the closed bathroom door. “Your little act this morning didn’t fool anyone. I know you’re an undercover cop.”
“An undercover…cop?” Patricia asked in a shocked voice and then broke out laughing. “Karan, I’m not a cop. I’m dating a cop…but me…a cop?” Patricia imagined herself pulling over an old granny and writing out a parking ticket. “Too funny.”
“Don’t try and deceive me,” Karan snapped. “Your claim to be a travel writer is weak—”
“I am a travel writer,” Patricia insisted.
“I saw you arrive with Officer Horne last night. I saw you from my room window.”
“That’s because I was lost,” Patricia explained. Boy, was I way off with this one. She thinks I’m an undercover cop. The question is…why? “Karan, why are you really here? Why did you travel to Ohio?”
“I’ve already told you I am a paranormal researcher—”
“That’s what you claim,” Patricia interrupted. “Are you really a paranormal investigator?”
Kara’s eyes became dark and filled with cruel anger. “Yes.”
“I can find out the truth. As a matter of fact, the cop I’m dating is hard at work as we speak digging into everyone’s past,” Patricia warned the other woman. “I have to make a call to Georgia in the next hour or so. I’m sure by then he’ll have some very…interesting…information waiting for me to dice up.”
“So, you’re really not a cop—”
“I’m not a cop!” Patricia snapped. “Lady, my name is Patricia McKay. I’m a travel writer. For crying out, get online and look up the travel magazine I write for. My photo and name are under each article I write.”
“My laptop…unfortunately…is missing. I haven’t reported the theft…not yet” Karan confessed. “I assumed Foster took it.”
“Why Foster?” Patricia asked.
“Foster has been snooping around ever since the murder last night,” Karan explained. “He came to my room after Susie went to your room. He wanted to know if I had talked to Ben. I demanded he leave my room. A while later I decided to walk down to the kitchen and have a cup of hot tea before bed. When I returned to my room my laptop was missing.” Karan’s face loosened a little. A little hint of confusion and despair appeared. “Foster is young and handsome. I…assumed he was interested in me…personally. When I realized the truth, I kicked him out of my room.”
Patricia glanced down at her hands. So, Karan suffers from age-fright. Inside of her heart the woman still wants to believe she’s young and beautiful. Not that she’s a dog; she’s a pretty woman, but it’s clear age is taking its toll on her. “Karan, why would Foster steal your laptop? Did you have any information stored on it that might have been…sensitive?”
Karan released an uneasy breath into the bathroom. “You’re a cop—”
“I’m not a cop. I’m a travel writer—”
“Who has the mind of Nancy Drew. Yeah, and I was born yesterday, Ms. McKay,” Karan snapped.
“You didn’t seem to believe I was a cop earlier this morning. As a matter of fact—”
“Why would I let on that I know the truth?” Karan attacked Patricia. “If the killer realizes I know the truth I’m a dead woman. Can you understand that?”
“You know who the killer is?”
“Toby Ells!”
Patricia stared at Karan with clear, stern eyes. “Why do you believe Toby Ells is the killer?” she dared to ask.
“Toby Ells works for the mafia. He’s here to locate a priceless chest of stolen jewels that’s worth more money than your feeble imagination can understand,” Karan said, feeling her voice become shaky.
Patricia steadied her mind. “You’re aware of the history of this manor?”
“I know the facts, yes.”
“Because you work for the private investigation company Toby hired to locate his mother,” Patricia pointed out and then waited patiently for Karan to respond.
Karan looked as if Patricia had slapped her across the face. “How did you…I mean, I…”
“And if you believe I’m an undercover cop, that means you’re worried that the company you work for has sent someone to track you down. Why? Did you violate company policy, Karan…by, say, stealing sensitive information?” Maybe the game of Clue isn’t so bad after all. This case seems to be pulling together…so far. But there’s no telling what sharp edges I might run into later on.
Karan stared at Patricia with shocked eyes that quickly turned dark and vicious. “Mr. Hayster stabbed me in the back. I did all the work. All the research. I located Ben Grands. Me…. I searched out the truth. Months and months of tedious searching…countless hours…me. Not Mr. Hayster.” Karan gritted her teeth. “Mr. Hayster found my work, and he betrayed me.”
“How?” Patricia asked, pretending she knew who the mysterious Mr. Hayster was.
“He contacted Toby Ells and told him all about the missing treasure,” Karan snapped. “Only the treasure he told Toby about was his brother, Ben Grands. He left out the part about the jewels. After all, Toby only wanted to find his brother…or did he?” Karan shook her head. “Toby is a very dangerous man. I believe he killed Lara Braceton because she knew the truth. Maybe Ben knows the truth too. Maybe Ben is next in line to die.”
“Toby works for the mafia.”
Karan’s eyes grew large. “You…know?”
“I’m not a cop, Karan, but I do have my ways,” Patricia explained without confessing that Toby himself had confessed his secrets to her. Sometimes a gal was blessed enough to find a few golden nuggets lying on the floor without having to dig for them. Life, after all, was never as neat and scripted as a murder game. No. Life was messy, disorganized, and full of unexpected twists and turns.
Karan pressed her back against the bathroom door. “Yes, Toby Ells does work for the mafia,” she admitted. “The man is a vicious killer. He uses his position at the college he teaches at to smuggle in drugs and weapons.”
“And I’m certain Foster assists him.”
“Yes.” Karan nodded.
Patricia felt a bad feeling creep into her heart. “Karan, you came here to steal the jewels, didn’t you? You followed Toby Ells.”
A look of absolute defeat struck Karan’s face. “Ms. McKay, I was once a cop…a very good cop. But unfortunately, I began taking bribes. I suffered from an addiction—gambling, to be precise. My debts kept growing. I needed money.” Karan lowered her eyes. “An undercover cop found me out. I was fired and put in prison for three years. When I left prison, no one would dare hire me…except for Mr. Hayster.”
“Which tells me that Mr. Hayster isn’t exactly an honest man.”
“He’s a killer,” Karan said. “He uses his company to kill, threaten, and intimidate powerful people. I was hired to investigate the lives of corrupt politicians in order to create a systematic operation of blackmail.” Karan’s face began to drip with disgust. “Mr. Hayster suffered from a gambling addiction just like me, and he had very high debts.”
“That’s why he wanted the jewels?”
“Yes,” Karan said. “Mr. Hayster may be a powerful man, but there are people who are far more powerful than he is.”
“I’m sure there are.”
Karan studied Patricia’s face. “Because Toby Ells is a dangerous man, he was forced to seek help from Mr. Hayster instead of hiring an honest investigation firm.”
Patricia slowly folded her arms. “I can understand that,” she assured Karan and then took a second to gather her thoughts into an organized file. “So, you really believe Toby is the killer?”
“Who else could it be?” Karan insisted and then added, “I knew your little act this morning was fake.” Karan glared at Patricia with careful eyes. “Mr. Hayster sent you to bring me back…after you kill Toby Ells.”
“You’re way off base, sister,” Patricia assured Karan. “I don’t know who this Mr. Hayster guy is, but I will. I’m not an undercover cop. And Toby Ells isn’t the killer. You’re striking out big time. But that doesn’t mean that Mr. Hayster hasn’t been able to reach his tentacles through this storm.” Patricia leaned back against the bathroom sink and rubbed her chin. “This is a real mystery,” she confessed, “but I think I might have a solid path to follow…maybe? I need to call my boyfriend.”
Karan watched Patricia rubbing her chin. “Okay, smart girl, if you’re not a cop…if you’re a travel writer as you claim…then tell me why you just so happened to show up when everyone did. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Neither do I…sadly,” Patricia sighed. “Neither do I.” Patricia walked her eyes to the bathroom door. “I think we’re going to be in for a lot of heartbreak, Karan.”
“Heartbreak?”
“Listen to me,” Patricia ordered. She stopped rubbing her chin, approached Karan, and gently took the woman’s left hand. Karan tried to pull away but gave in. “I know you’re not the killer. I know Toby Ells isn’t the killer. I thought he was, but he isn’t. For a while I even considered Susie—”
“Foster—”
“No,” Patricia assured Karan, staring into the woman’s hard eyes that were, to her relief, beginning to melt. “Karan, there is a killer loose…two, as a matter of fact—”
“Two?” Karan gasped.
Patricia nodded. “Two,” she confirmed and let go of Karan’s hand. “I can’t tell you who the two killers are…not yet—”
“Why not?”
“Because you might unintentionally give away the truth to everyone and we’ll all be in danger,” Patricia explained. “Right now, I need you to go back out into that kitchen and pretend you hate my guts. Complain about the dream I told you about. Make it seem like you’re really annoyed with me. I’ll play dumb.”
“Why?” Karan insisted. “Ms. McKay—”
“Karan, my name is Patricia,” Patricia said and offered a warm smile. “Let’s not be enemies any longer, okay?” Patricia reached out and patted Karan’s arm. “I promise to help you, but you have to be willing to quit fighting against the entire world.”
“My life is in shambles. I need those jewels—”
“No, you need a friend,” Patricia insisted and then opened the bathroom door. “Friends are worth more than money. Now, let me help you.” Karan stared into a pair of eyes that held warmth and truth—a warmth and truth that she had not witnessed for a very long time. Without understanding how or why, Karan simply nodded yes and left the bathroom.
Gary Horne shook snow off his coat and then pulled a snow-soaked muffler hat off his head. “Boy, Trent, you’re going to have a tough time getting home,” he announced. “This is the worst storm I’ve ever seen. I’m sorry I’m so late. Getting here was a real chore.”
Trent quickly tossed on a muffler and a pair of thick gloves. “Who cares?” he told Gary moving toward the front door. “All I want is a hot meal, a hot shower, and my bed.”
Gary nodded. “I can understand that,” he said and then pointed toward the front room. “What’s the news on our locked-up chickens?”
“Nothing,” Trent replied, offering a simple summary. “It’s been quiet all day. Everyone is in the front room. Dinner has just ended. Mr. Grands cooked a meatloaf, but I didn’t get very much of it.”
A grin swept across Gary’s face. “We cops are underappreciated. But that’s going to change.”
“Yeah, when cows fly over the moon,” Trent huffed as he yanked open the front door. “See you tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah…be careful going home,” Gary called out. He watched Trent vanish into the storm and then fought to close the front door.
Patricia spotted Gary closing the front door and then walked back into the front room. “Well, Officer Horne is here,” she announced.
“Oh joy,” Karan snapped, sitting in a reading chair holding a book. As far as everyone was concerned—even Ben—Karan still despised the ground Patricia walked on.
Before Patricia could respond, Gary appeared. “How is everyone tonight?” he asked in a tone that didn’t seem very friendly. “Trent told me today went by without any problems. Let’s see to it that tonight matches today’s attitude.”
Patricia walked over to the old cobblestone fireplace and began warming her hands. She hated how the front room felt like a funeral parlor. The screaming, tormented, icy winds outside didn’t add any color to the situation, but what could she do? “We’re all very tired, Officer Horne. It’s been a long day. I for one would like to retire to my room and rest.”
