Close Encounters of the Murderous Kind, page 19
“You already killed Ross.” I moved toward him with my hands up, my keyring dangling from my thumb. “You don’t have to shoot me.”
“If I don’t, I have no future. You know too much and won’t mind your own business. I tried to warn you, but you didn’t pay attention. Who ignores slashed tires?”
Questions pounded my mind, demanding answers. “How’d you even kn—never mind. You saw me plant the note in Misty’s car because you were working at the park this afternoon, weren’t you?”
“I got it out of the trash after she tossed it. I couldn’t take the chance of you confronting Misty and figuring out the truth. I’m guessing that tub of lard you’re working for didn’t keep his mouth shut about the poker game.”
“You guessed correctly.” Could I keep Andrew talking until I found a way to get into the house and call for help? “Obviously, your motive for robbing the game was quick cash. But why dress up as an alien?”
“Convenience. I cleaned Thelma Ambrose’s house before she died, and we loved to talk about UFOs. When I told her I wanted to make an alien movie for a film festival, she sewed a costume for me. We got inspiration from a new book she’d read about close encounters. She showed me an account in the book about a guy named Amos Brown, and I knew that’s what I wanted my alien to look like.”
“And you knew about the poker games from Dr. Carter and Lloyd Reel?”
“Yep. I happened to see the same paper with a fallout shelter symbol in their offices, and when I overheard Doc talking to his receptionist Stacey about a poker game, I knew that’s what it had to be.” His face twisted. “I just needed money for my movie. No one was supposed to die, but when Ross saw me, he spazzed out and kept yelling for me to leave him alone.”
“Because he was Amos Brown from Close Encounters in the USA.”
Andrew’s eyes widened. “No way.”
“Yes way,” I said. “So what did you do?”
“I tried running away, but Ross tackled me. My gun went off. I never planned to kill him. The gunshot scared his dog, and it bolted. I picked up the leash in case I found the dog on my way back to Thelma’s, but when I heard everyone coming out of the shelter, I hid. They scattered, so I stayed and looked for the dog. I was planning to tie him up near Ross, so someone would find him the next day.”
“But you never found him and finally threw the leash into the creek.”
“I panicked when I heard you searching, and I hid again, but when you got too close, I had to scare you so I could escape.” He prodded me with the gun. “Get in your car.”
“Why?”
“You’re stalling, and we need to meet Misty. There’s going to be another murder—and a suicide—at the inn.”
What time was it? Would Duke arrive early? What if he hadn’t even gotten my message?
I walked toward my flat-tired car.
“What’re you doing?” Andrew growled.
“You told me to get in my car.” I pointed at Eduardo Escort. “This one’s mine. Don’t you remember? That one belongs to my parents.” I motioned toward the LeSabre.
He fired the gun into the woods.
Shrieking, I ducked and covered my head.
“The next shot won’t be a warning. Now get up!”
I lifted my head, and my toe bumped the garden hose. In one motion, I grasped the sprayer, launched to my feet, and spewed water in Andrew’s face. I moved backward into the garage keeping the stream directed at his face as he thrashed back and forth trying to escape.
He cussed and struggled toward me. I shoved the trashcan into his path, and when it rolled into his legs, he stumbled. I dropped the hose, and with shaking hands, I tried to insert the key into the lock but fumbled.
When Andrew staggered to his feet, he slid on the slick cement and did the splits. He yowled as I fitted the key into the lock and turned it. I opened the door, and Andrew charged toward me. I slipped inside, but he yanked me backward and caught me in a chokehold.
His arm pressed against my windpipe, and I flailed, gasping for air. I shoved my elbow into his midsection, causing him to grunt. Stars peppered my vision when he hauled me backward. I dragged my heels against the concrete, but he tightened his hold on my neck and lugged me outside.
Keys jingled, and he unlocked the LeSabre’s trunk. He tossed me inside, and I drew wheezing gasps as the trunk slammed.
The car started, zoomed forward, and took a left out of the driveway. He must’ve decided to stick with the plan to take me to the inn. I patted around in the darkness, hoping to find something to use to defend myself, and my hand curled around an ice scraper.
The car stopped.
“I’m going to open the trunk, and if you try anything, you’re dead,” he shouted.
I let go of the scraper, and when the trunked popped, light poured in. Blinking, I sat up and looked around. We were at the trailhead.
He grabbed my arm and yanked me out, but I stumbled and pitched onto the gravel. Wincing at the rocks biting my knees, I closed my fist around some loose dirt and small stones before I stood.
“Walk down the trail.” He pressed the gun into my back.
Swallowing hard, I stepped onto the path. “To the fallout shelter?”
“Duh.”
I tightened my grip on the rocks and edged forward. When we approached the tree root I’d tripped on a few nights ago, I smacked my arm and pretended to grimace.
“What?”
I stepped over the root. “Mosquitos. We should’ve brought the insect repellent. I’m getting eaten alive.”
“Like it’s going to matter.” He snickered but tripped over the root.
When he pitched forward, I launched the rocks into his face, but he didn’t lose his grip on the gun. Instead, he snarled, clawed his eyes, and fired a wild shot above my head.
I sprinted toward the inn and screamed, “Misty, it’s Bobbi Sue. Call for help!” I glanced over my shoulder. Andrew had made it to his feet and was gaining on me.
Did I really think I could outrun him?
“Misty, Andrew Jansen killed Ross! Call for help!” I reached the fallout shelter.
But no one was there.
I darted off the path, racing around the bushes toward the inn. The building was most likely locked, but I could break a window and find a phone. A stitch in my side forced me to double over. Behind me, Andrew’s panting grew closer.
“Help!” I screeched.
Rustling sounded above me.
“Ahhhhh!” A man’s primal scream caused me to whip around in time to see Hemi jumping from the tree above Andrew.
Hemi landed on Andrew’s back, slamming him to the ground.
“Ooofff!” Andrew groaned.
Duke raced out from behind a tree, tossed aside a camcorder, and wrenched the gun from Andrew’s hand. Hemi yanked Andrew’s arms behind his back.
Misty ran out of the inn. “I called Tim. He’s on the way with back up.”
Chapter 31
“I can’t thank you guys enough for helping me,” I said to Hemi, Duke, and Misty as we gathered on the Creekside Inn’s back porch. The deputies had arrested Andrew, and we were waiting to talk to Detective Harrell. I had a hunch Detective Melchor was ticked that I’d solved his case and implicated his daughter in an illegal poker game. “How’d you guys know to come here with Misty?”
The three of them exchanged glances.
“Who wants to go first?” Duke asked.
“Go for it, Duke.” Misty rocked on the swing.
“Last night, when you told me you’d found a poker chip and alcohol in the fallout shelter, I thought about how after I met Dr. Carter at the conspiracy club meeting, he’d invited me to a poker game in a secret location. He heard I was planning a trip to Las Vegas and thought I’d be interested.”
Some guy named Freddie. Chuckie must’ve misunderstood when Dr. Carter had called Duke by Dr. Carter’s nickname for him, Eddie T. “What’d you tell him?”
“I’m not above playing the slots or blackjack in Vegas, but I don’t gamble illegally,” Duke leaned against the railing. “It occurred to me that whoever was running these games might be using the fallout shelter as the location and that the game might’ve been robbed. I tried all day to get a hold of Dr. Carter, so I could confirm my theory, but his clinic’s closed, and he’s not home. I remembered he occasionally goes to Tate’s Place after work, so I went there, hoping to catch him.”
“But he wasn’t there either,” I said.
“Nope.” He looked at Hemi. “But your friend was.”
“I went into Tate’s Place to get a tenderloin for supper,” Hemi said. “While I was waiting, Misty came in, and I overheard her talking to Kurt about a note she’d found in her car at the park.”
“Same.” Duke looked at her. “You were pretty conspicuous.”
“I know, I know.” Her cheeks flushed. “I’m loud.”
“Mostly when you’re excited,” I said.
“I wasn’t paying much attention until Misty mentioned the fallout shelter,” Duke said. “Then I heard her say someone was blackmailing her, and she had to deliver a thousand dollars to the shelter at sunset. She was begging the bartender for a loan.”
I looked at Misty. “If you didn’t kill Ross, why’d you think you were being blackmailed?”
She glanced over her shoulder and whispered, “What these guys aren’t saying is that after I left the drive-in, I got together with Carl, the guy I’ve been dating. He had some marijuana, and we smoked it. I’m not going out with him again because he’s a terrible influence.” Misty covered her face with her hands. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
Her proclamation was full of drama—as usual. “Good. It’s an ending fit for an after school special. So what’d Kurt say when you asked for money?”
“He’s obviously in love with her, so he agreed to loan her the money.” Duke smiled.
“Wait.” Misty lifted her head. “Kurt’s in love with me?”
“Yes!” Hemi, Duke, and I said in unison.
She grinned sheepishly, and I looked at the guys and shrugged.
“You acted suspicious when I ran into you this afternoon, so when I overheard Misty, I had a hunch that you were setting a trap because you thought she was the killer,” Hemi said. “That’s when I noticed Duke watching Misty and Kurt.”
“Hemi came to my table and asked if I’d heard from you because you’d mentioned working with me. I hadn’t, but I called home and checked my answering machine messages.”
“And you heard I had a plan and that you should come to the inn at seven.”
“Right.” Duke nodded. “We approached Misty and told her you’d written the note, and that it had nothing to do with the marijuana.”
“But we didn’t know why you thought Misty killed Ross,” Hemi said. “I tried calling your parents’ house, but you didn’t answer. I even tried Chuckie’s, but he told me you’d taken the rest of the day off to follow a lead.”
“And I was afraid there was still a chance you weren’t the blackmailer, so I insisted on following through with the meeting,” Misty added.
“Hemi and I agreed to go with Misty and hide out in the woods in case the blackmailer showed,” Duke said. “If we hadn’t, Kurt would’ve kicked everyone out of the bar, closed, and gone himself.”
“We stopped at your house, but you weren’t there,” Hemi said.
“You probably just missed me.” I groaned. “I went to mail a letter to Juanita St. James—in case something went wrong.”
Duke squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t put yourself in a situation like that again.”
“I know you don’t trust cops, but you could’ve gotten yourself killed.” Concern lingered in Hemi’s eyes.
“I know. It was stupid. It didn’t hit me until I passed Misty’s grandma’s house that Andrew could’ve robbed the game, so I was trying to get home to call the whole thing off.” I turned to Misty. “I’m sorry for suspecting you.”
“I forgive you,” she said. “After the way I treated you when we were kids, I don’t blame you for thinking the worst.”
“Can we call it even and start over for real this time?”
“I’d like that.” She picked a hangnail. “But tell me why you thought I killed Mr. G.”
“I thought you’d sewn the costume—just like your prom dress that was the same iridescent blue. You’d complained about not having money, and I thought you might’ve known about the poker games from Stacey or your grandma.”
“And I acted guilty when you asked what I did after the movie because I was feeling so ashamed about the pot.” She shook her head. “Mom’s going to be so mad at Stacey for running those games in the shelter.”
“And Tim?”
“Oh, he’ll be even more upset that his perfect little angel committed a crime.”
“Mr. Talbert? Mr. Miller?” Detective Harrell came out onto the porch. “May I speak with you inside?”
The guys followed her into the inn.
Misty drew her knees to her chest. “Is something going on with you and Duke? He was very worried about you, and he is one fine looking man.” She fanned herself.
“He is.” I felt my cheeks grow warm as I remembered our kiss. “But I’m pretty sure he’s a player, so no. There’s not.”
“Maybe he’ll make Hemi jealous.” She waggled her eyebrows.
“I don’t think so.” I gazed into the inn where Hemi stood talking to Duke and Detective Harrell in the dining room. “Hemi’s engaged.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. His fiancée’s name is Leslie. I met her the other night.”
Misty followed my gaze. “I feel sorry for her.”
“Why?”
Misty arched an eyebrow. “I sure wouldn’t want to be engaged to a man who looks at another woman the way Hemi looks at you.”
That night when I got home, I called Juanita. Though she didn’t answer, I left a message telling her to ignore the letter that she’d be getting from me, and if she knew where my parents were hiding, she could let them know it was safe to come home.
If that didn’t work, I didn’t know what else to do.
The next day, I reported to Chuckie’s Chicken, though I wasn’t shocked to discover he wasn’t there due to his legal problems stemming from the poker game and his failure to report a crime. Since he had bigger issues, I wasn’t worried about him firing me for putting King Pervert in his place. Besides, Chuckie was going to need help to keep his restaurant going.
Later that afternoon, I was filling drink orders for the customers at table six when Rochelle stormed into the restaurant waving a copy of the Richard County Gazette.
“I just read about what happened,” she shrieked. “What were you thinking getting involved?”
“That I had to clear Dad’s name—and my own.” I pointed to an empty booth. “Have a seat, and I’ll see if I can take a quick break.” I found Katie, and she agreed to take over table six, so I slid into the booth across from Rochelle.
She slammed the paper onto the table. “When I read this, I about had a heart attack.”
A wave of guilt assaulted me as I placed a Sprite peace offering in front of her. “I’m sorry. How have you been feeling?”
She jabbed the straw against the table until it popped through the wrapper. “Better the last few days.” She ripped off the paper.
“I’m glad.”
“I’m sorry for not believing you.” She jammed her straw into the red plastic glass. “I . . . well . . . your story sounded ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“I think I might be a little jealous because of the adventures you get to have.” She twisted her wedding band.
“If it makes you feel better, I’m a little jealous you get to be a mom.” I fiddled with the paper placemat. “Even though I’m not ready to get married or have kids.”
For a few seconds, neither of us seemed to know what to say.
“I still haven’t heard from Mom and Dad,” she said. “Have you?”
“No. I was hoping they’d been in touch with Juanita and that she could let them know the coast is clear, so I left a message with her this morning. But that might not do any good, because when I called her before, she didn’t let on like she knew anything.”
The crease between my sister’s brow deepened. “I hate to say it, but what if their leaving had nothing to do with Ross Garland’s murder, and it has to do with . . .?”
Question everything.
“Dad’s past.” I swallowed. Is that what Juanita had been trying to tell me? “That would explain why they might’ve had fake IDs ready to go.”
“Do you think someone from the drug lord’s family could be after revenge?” Rochelle’s voice trembled.
“I suppose it’s possible. If Juanita hadn’t kept digging for the truth, he would’ve gotten away with framing Dad for killing Leon.”
“But wouldn’t Mom and Dad have warned us?” she asked. “What if we’re in danger?”
“They must not think we are.”
“You’re right. Dad probably just got spooked that the police would blame him for Ross’s murder, which wasn’t off base.”
“They’ll be home soon.” I reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Let’s not borrow trouble.”
But I was finding it very hard to follow my own advice.
After Rochelle left, I spent the rest of the day working at Chuckie’s. After closing, I was mopping the floor when a middle-aged man walked in.
“I’m sorry.” I stuck the mop into the bucket. “We’re closed, but we’ll open at 10:30 tomorrow morning.”
“I’m looking for Bobbi Sue Baxter.” He adjusted his aviator-frame glasses. Is she here?”
“That’s me.”
“Daniel Beeson—Judy Beeson’s son. I’m the editor of Hoosier magazine.”
I tightened my grip on the mop. “I’m familiar with it.”
“Good. Because I’m in town visiting Mom, and I read your feature article about the Soybean Queen in the Wildcat Wellspring. Your writing is exceptional, and when I made the comment to my mom, she told me you’re a nice, hard-working girl in journalism school.”
