Authors: Erika Chase
He was right. For now.
* * *
P
aige finished setting the table and called everyone to sit down. Her two exuberant
daughters, Cate and Jenna, had been vying to sit on Lizzie’s lap and tell her about
what they thought was under the tree for them. Lizzie stood gratefully and shepherded
them to the table.
“I can see this household is seriously lacking in Christmas anticipation,” she said,
taking her seat opposite the two girls.
Brad grinned. “As if you’re not excited, also, Lizzie Turner. I know all about the
Christmas you opened and then retaped all your gifts under the tree.” He passed her
a serving dish of balsamic root vegetables.
Lizzie glared at Paige. “You told him! I thought that was our secret.”
Paige shrugged. “Sorry. We didn’t cross our hearts.” She turned to Brad. “Lizzie is
just a big kid at heart at this time of year. We all know that.”
Cate said, “I want to stay up and say hi to Santa but Mama won’t let me.”
“Your mama’s wise,” said Lizzie. “She knows Santa’s shy and might leave without giving
you gifts if he sees you.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll go to bed. What did you bring me Auntie Lizzie?”
Brad answered. “That’s not very polite, sweet pea. If Auntie Lizzie forgot to buy
gifts this year, she’d feel very foolish right about now.”
Lizzie smiled. “Oh, there might be something in the trunk of my car. I thought it
best to get supper out of the way before adding more excitement.”
“Bless you,” Paige said as she took her seat at the head of the table nearest the
kitchen. They had renovated the house soon after buying it, just before Jenna was
born, and after many rounds with the architect, they had opted to stay with the traditional
layout rather than the open concept Paige had initially wanted.
After supper, as promised, Lizzie brought in a large shopping bag of gifts. She let
the girls eye them and set them under the tree, and when they’d finished, they presented
her with three gifts—a large gift bag from Paige and Brad, and a small one from each
of the girls.
“This is wonderful . . . thanks so much. I’m going to take them and open them with
my mama tomorrow afternoon, if that’s okay with y’all.”
The girls bounced around the room. “Yes, it is, Auntie Lizzie,” they chanted.
Once the girls had gotten interested in their toys, Paige asked Lizzie about the case.
“Where’s your police escort? You didn’t ditch them, did you?”
“No. I told Mark I didn’t really think I was a target and would he please remove the
shadow . . . so he did.”
“Huh. I thought he had better sense than that.”
Lizzie looked at Paige in surprise. “Yeah. But nothing else has happened to me. I
think I was meant to be a diversion, to get Mark looking elsewhere for Derek’s killer.”
“Yeah, but,” Paige mimicked, “the reason no one’s taken a potshot at you could be
because of that black-and-white police car following you around town. Did you think
of that?”
Lizzie looked at Paige and decided it was time to switch gears. Paige could be very
stubborn at times, like now. “The suspects in Derek’s murder are all local.”
“What? That’s not good news. I’d hate to think someone I knew was capable of that.
So, who’s on the list? Anyone I know?”
“I’ll tell you but it goes no further. Not even to Brad.”
Paige nodded and crossed her heart with an extra kissing of two fingers and a swat
at the air thrown in. It was so natural, they’d done it hundreds of times as kids,
that Lizzie was momentarily overcome by a blast of the past. She swallowed hard.
“Okay. So, Xenia Henshaw, Realtor and ex-wife of Derek, formerly Harvey Warren, is
at the top. There’s also a teacher who was being blackmailed by him . . .”
“Not Sally-Jo!”
Lizzie shook her head and continued, “Followed by any number of Ashton Corners females,
whose names I won’t divulge because if they’re not murderers, their indiscretions
are none of my business. But you do know one of them.”
“Oh, Lizzie. You didn’t have to add that. Now I’ll be looking at every woman I pass
on the street, wondering.” Paige huffed. “Well, what about the guy from River’s End?
The writer?”
“He has a solid alibi. He could have hired someone but I don’t think he could afford
it and it seems like he’s gotten on with his life, even though he still carried a
grudge. Now, Derek’s agent has just entered the picture, and although he’s just passed
along information, I’m wondering if maybe he was double-dealing Derek or something
like that.”
“Or Derek meant to ditch him?”
“Yeah . . . there are all sorts of possibilities. I’m not sure if Mark has him on
his radar as a suspect, though.”
“I’m sure you’ll enlighten him. You know, for all of the Mr. Creep that it sounds
like he was, Derek Alton didn’t deserve to be murdered, so it’s sad.”
“It is, and this is Christmas, so let’s leave sad topics behind.”
Brad entered the living room carrying a tray with three glasses of cognac and Lizzie
wondered if he’d been listening, or else his timing was perfect.
“Wonderful. Thanks, Brad,” Lizzie said, choosing the glass nearest her.
“So, Lizzie . . . what’s your Christmas Day look like?” Brad asked.
“The usual. The morning with my mama, then to Molly’s in the afternoon for turkey
dinner. She’s also invited Stephanie Lowe, if she’s not in the hospital giving birth,
and Bob Miller.” She took a sip. “And Mark.”
“Aha! Good on Molly.”
“Well, actually, Mark invited me to spend Christmas with him so I suggested he join
us instead.”
Paige’s eyes almost popped out of head. “He wanted to spend Christmas with you? Alone?
And you’re dragging him to Molly’s? Your first Christmas together?”
“You know I can’t not go to Molly’s.”
Paige sighed. “You’re right, of course. And it will be good for him to see what he’s
getting into.”
Lizzie threw a pillow at Paige and settled in to enjoy her drink and listen to the
excitement the two girls stirred up when they joined the adults.
As she was getting ready for bed later, Lizzie thought about Paige’s comment about
Mark and Christmas. It would be good to make him totally aware of her life forces.
Her routine with her mama and the fact that Molly played such a major role in it all.
Brie stretched up her side and she picked her up for a cuddle. And, of course, her
cats.
Chapter Thirty-nine
“Guys,” she said, when their chatter came to a pause, “there’s something I’d like
to talk to you about.”
STRING OF LIES
—MARY ELLEN HUGHES
A
nother sunny Christmas Eve morning. Lizzie shook her head, silly to feel sad about
the sun! She loved sunny mornings. They energized her, helped her look forward to
the day, put a smile on her face. But she’d been hoping for snow. Ever since the small
snowfall last week, her appetite had been whetted and the optimist in her had held
out hope.
Oh well. Just a few hours until Christmas Eve. That was an exciting thought. Even
in the darkest years after her daddy had died, Christmas Eve always kept its magic
and gave her a bright spot to focus on.
She tucked her running clothes in the closet and, fresh from the shower, pulled on
some jeans and a light green hoodie. She quickly made her bed and gave the room a
thorough tidying, just in case she’d be sharing it later.
Edam and Brie were already waiting at their dishes when she entered the kitchen. She
filled their bowls, changed the water and brushed them as they ate. She made an espresso
and read the paper on the sofa while she sipped the dark brew. The cats joined her,
and after she’d finished, she relaxed with them awhile, stroking their silky fur.
The phone made her finally move. It was Mark.
“Happy Christmas Eve,” he started.
“And to you. I’m so glad you called.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Any reason in particular?”
“Not really.”
He sighed. “That’s nice. Now, I have some news I thought you’d like to hear. Alton’s
notes made mention of some contractual changes he wanted. I don’t think his agent
had meant for me to see that. However, when I called him about it, the agent admitted
they were going through some heavy negotiations and that’s why the work was stalled.
Derek refused to write anything until he either got a better deal with the publisher
or the agent cut his commission.”
“That explains a lot but also might give the agent a motive, wouldn’t you think?”
“I did think, but his alibi is airtight and he swears he didn’t know that Derek was
coming to Ashton Corners. So, even if he’d hired someone to kill him, they’d have
had to be tailing him all along. And why wait to take him out at your place?”
“So, you have been giving that angle some thought.”
“Only because I knew you’d go right there. Quentin Underhill is not our killer.”
“What are you going to do next?”
“Try to flush out the person.”
“Really? How?”
“This manuscript is of interest to so many, I thought that next week I’d let word
out that I have a copy of it and hope to make an arrest shortly.”
“Hmm. What do you think the killer will do? Run? Try to steal the manuscript? Shoot
you?”
“I hope either of the first two.” She could hear him sigh. “I probably won’t have
time to stop over at your place before the church service tonight but I’ll wait for
you outside after it’s over.”
“Absolutely. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me, too.”
Lizzie’s toes tingled at the suggestive tone of his voice.
Lizzie wanted some fresh flowers to take her mama in the afternoon, so after some
housework, she drove to Blooms ’n Roses and also picked up a small bouquet of white
roses for herself. On a whim, she stopped by the Book Bin. Jensey seemed run off her
feet while her two high school hirelings hung around the cash register, talking to
each other. By the time Jensey was free, Lizzie was almost ready to leave.
“Did you have a chance to give any more thought to Harvey Warren, Jensey?” Couldn’t
hurt to push a bit.
Jensey’s smile froze on her face. “No. I already told you, Lizzie. And just what are
you insinuating, anyway? I don’t appreciate this one bit.”
Lizzie almost took a step backward. Ouch. “I’m sorry if this upsets you, Jensey. It’s
a natural question to be asking . . . I’m asking a lot of the Ashton Corners women
about him. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Well you did, and here I thought you were such a nice person. Anyway, I have lots
of customers as you can see. I need to get back to them.”
She turned her back on Lizzie and sought out a couple in the historical mysteries
section. Lizzie felt like she’d been slapped. Something was bothering Jensey.
Maybe it was just the tension of the Christmas rush. She’d probably be apologizing
tonight at church for being so brusque.
* * *
L
izzie had a quick lunch then changed into a pink tank top with a silk chiffon blouse
top and gray jeans, grabbed the flowers and another small gift bag, and went to Magnolia
Manor.
Her mama appeared to be waiting for her, dressed in a pale blue long-sleeved blouse
and navy slacks, sitting in the tub chair beside the window. A good sign.
Lizzie showed her the flowers, white lilies with red and white Gerbera daisies and
some holiday greens and red berries thrown in for effect, and put them in a vase of
water. She talked about her plans for the evening. She left out the details of her
sleeping arrangements but emphasized she’d be at the Manor in time for Christmas lunch
with Evelyn. She’d hoped for some sign of glee but told herself it would mean a lot
to her mama tomorrow.
She passed over the gift bag and waited until Evelyn finally decided to look into
it. She pulled out the poncho and seemed to get lost in the color. By the time the
tea cart stopped outside her door, Evelyn finally seemed more animated and they enjoyed
tea and a cookie together.
When Lizzie left, it was with a promise to be back for lunch the next day. Evelyn
squeezed her hand. Lizzie kissed her forehead and left. After a quiet early evening
with the cats, a glass of red wine and a good book, and Christmas music on NPR in
the background, Lizzie got ready for church. They had to be there an hour early for
a short practice.
Lizzie made sure she had all of her music in her binder and took one last look in
the mirror. She’d chosen a silver satin tank top and three-quarter-length black crepe
skirt, even though the choir gown would cover all. She was thinking of afterward.
She made sure the cats’ dishes were filled, explained she’d be home much later and
left.
Several cars were already in the parking lot. It looked like she’d be one of the last
of the choir arriving. Oh well. She’d been warming up in the car. She parked at the
far end of the lot, leaving the spaces closer to the church available for the congregation,
many of whom were elderly. She grabbed her stuff and locked the car. She heard someone
call her name and turned to see Jensey Pollard standing at the back of Lansing Dry
Cleaners, the next building over on Charles Street.
“Oh, hey, Jensey. You’re here early.”
“I have a good reason, Lizzie. Do you want to hear it?”
Lizzie glanced around. Something in Jensey’s voice had her feeling uneasy. She was
totally alone in the lot, aside from Jensey.
This is foolish; it’s Jensey. She’s probably wanting to apologize.
“It’s okay, Jensey.”
“No, it’s not. Nothing will be okay again. And you’ve ruined it, Lizzie.”
Lizzie saw the rifle at Jensey’s side, pointing to the ground.
“What are you talking about?” She couldn’t take her eyes off the gun.
“You’ve figured it all out, haven’t you?”
“No. I haven’t figured out anything. What are you talking about?”
“Derek . . . no, Harvey. And me.” She suddenly brought the rifle up and pointed it
at Lizzie. “Walk over here, real quick now. Don’t say anything that might attract
someone.”
Lizzie dropped her bag but hung on to her binder. She walked quickly toward Jensey,
who motioned her along the small alley between the backs of the stores. She told Lizzie
to stop when they were about three stores in. Lizzie tried to maneuver to the side
so that the tiny light shining in her face would be in Jensey’s instead.
“Just stop moving. Back up against that wall. Now, tell me all you found out.”
“Believe me, Jensey, I know nothing specific. I have lots of speculation. Mainly about
Xenia Henshaw and if she killed Derek. But also about Derek, or rather Harvey, and
the many affairs he had. I’m wondering if he was blackmailing any of the women and
maybe that’s what got him killed. And there were a lot of women.”
“Shut up!” she shrieked. “Are you trying to hurt me even more? I know Harvey had many
lovers but I was the one he truly loved. He told me so. Even though . . .” She sobbed
and seemed distracted. Lizzie gauged the distance between them but thought she’d need
a lot of luck to make it to the gun before Jensey could fire it. Better to keep her
talking.
“Did you kill him?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she screamed. “He admitted he’d written about me, about us, about
what happened, in
Judgment
. And that he’d be continuing the story in his new book. He laughed when I asked if
he was sure I couldn’t be identified. He actually said it might do me some good to
come out from under my rock and show everybody that I could have some fun. Fun! There
isn’t a day goes by when I don’t think about what happened and just shrivel up inside.”
That must have been some breakup. “Jensey, you have a wonderful husband. Derek was
a womanizer and not a very honorable guy, from what I keep hearing. Why do this to
yourself? He wasn’t worth it.”
“What will my ‘wonderful husband’ do when he learns that his wife had an affair and
an abortion? What will the whole town think? I killed my child. I killed it because
Harvey told me to do so. He wouldn’t marry me. I couldn’t tell my ‘wonderful husband’
it was his because . . . well, he would have known. And what made it even worse, I
found out later that I couldn’t have any more children.”
The tears were streaming down her face. Lizzie dared to hope she might lose concentration
and lower the gun. Instead, she squared her shoulders and sniffed.
“I chose to be a murderer instead. So, now I’ve also murdered the person whose fault
it was. And you know he had it coming. I don’t feel badly about it, at all.”
“Why shoot at me?” Lizzie whispered. Now she was scared. Her hands were shaking, and
she almost dropped her binder. Maybe she could throw it at Jensey and deflect the
rifle, or at least distract her long enough to run. But where? She couldn’t possibly
reach the parking lot before she was shot. She thought she saw movement at the end
of the alley but couldn’t be certain.
“I did it to make the police think you were really the target, so they’d stop looking
for someone tied to Derek. I hadn’t meant to hurt you . . . or I would have. I’m a
good shot.”
“And now?”
“Now, you’re too close. You know everything. You knew when you were in my store today.
I could tell. Or at least you were so close to getting it that I couldn’t take the
chance you’d catch on and tell the police.”
“What are you planning to do now?”
“I’m going to have to shoot you. I like you, Lizzie. So, I’m really sorry. But you
know, once you’ve murdered someone, you become hardened to it. Makes the next one
easier. Forgive me, Lizzie.”
She raised the rifle to her shoulder and Lizzie flung her binder at Jensey’s face.
The shot grazed Lizzie’s left shoulder and threw her back against the wall. She felt
a surge of rage race through her body and she charged Jensey, hitting her full force.
They toppled to the ground, Lizzie on top, using her right arm to try to pin Jensey’s
arm holding the rifle.
A few seconds later, she felt herself being lifted off Jensey and Mark’s voice penetrated
her brain. He gently pushed her to one side and bent down to grab the rifle and flip
Jensey over, handcuffing her. She started screeching and crying.
Mark went back to Lizzie just as two officers came running along the alley. He had
his flashlight out and saw her bleeding arm. He pulled out his cell and phoned for
an ambulance.
“Can you walk?”
She nodded. “Yes, of course.”
He walked her gently to the parking lot and sat her down on one of the cement pilings.
“It’s snowing, Mark.” Despite the pain, her face lit up as she lifted it to let the
flakes settle on it.
“So it is.” He sat down beside her and took her hand in his. “Lizzie, I don’t think
I’ve ever had such a fright. I saw your car and your bag on the ground. And I could
hear some yelling from the alley.”
He wasn’t the only one frightened.
She squeezed his hand. “I thought I heard two shots. But I was only shot once.”
“I fired at her but she’d already swiveled from your throwing whatever it was at her.”
“My binder. Could you look for it, please? I have to return my music.”
Mark shook his head and smiled. “You’ve just been shot and you’re thinking about your
music?”
The ambulance tore into the lot and killed its sirens. Within minutes, Lizzie was
lying on a stretcher with her vitals being checked out. A small crowd was assembling.
The paramedics finished taking her blood pressure and then moved the stretcher into
the ambulance. Lizzie saw Jensey being loaded into a police cruiser. Then Mark appeared
in the open door.
“She’ll be just fine,” the paramedic said. “We’ll take her to Jefferson Hospital and
they’ll patch her up. Are you riding with us?”
Mark looked over at the cruiser. “No.” He looked at Lizzie. “I have to take care of
a few things then I’ll come to the hospital.” He smiled, a little uncertainly.
She gave him a small wave with her good hand. The door closed and she was staring
at two back windows, through which she could see the snow swirling around.