Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 05 - A Deadly Change of Luck (16 page)

“Man, he’s smoother than a silk tie,” Craig commented as he strained to get a better view.

“I told you.  You should see him with his students.  I figured Casey would warm right up to him.  She’s here, all alone.  She’s probably scared.  He’s a familiar face—not threatening.  And you’re right, he’s about as smooth as they come.”

This wa
s what I was counting on.  Our plan was for Peter to get her to let her guard down.  If she confessed to him that she was in some sort of trouble, he was to offer her a better hiding place on his sailboat.  Even if she kept quiet about her predicament, he would invite her to go sailing with him for a couple of weeks.  I’d given him some snapshots of the
Plan C
to show her.  She’d have to know she’d be almost impossible to find out on the open ocean.  I was pretty sure she’d take him up on his offer.

We watched Peter charm his prey as we sat smugly in our hiding place, proud at how well the plan was working.  He pulled the photographs out of his pocket and handed them to her, one by one.  She seemed impressed. 
Great.
  We were to the point of inviting her to the boat.  After about fifteen minutes, Casey excused herself, we assumed to go to the ladies room.  Peter squeezed her hand briefly before she left, then relaxed and sat back in his seat, waiting for his new companion to return.

I checked my watch.  Casey had been gone for five minutes.  I wasn’t too concerned.  She was probably re-applying all her makeup, re-styling her
hair,
and triple-checking her outfit.  I could see the sign for the restrooms from my position.  I stood up.  “I’m just
gonna
go check on her,” I said.

Craig nodded, but kept watching Peter.

When I walked into the restroom, it was empty.  I rushed back out and tried to spot her.  The only way for her to get past us was if she’d gone out through the kitchen, rather than through the dining room.  I raced through the kitchen and out to the parking lot.  I spotted Casey throwing a bag into her car and hopping into the driver’s seat. 

I grabbed the walkie-talkie. 
“Papa Bear!
  This is Mama Bear!  Goldilocks has flown the coop!  I repeat
,
she’s on the run!”

I raced to Craig’s car and reached it just as he came blasting out of the hotel.  I pulled my set of keys from my purse and jumped into the driver’s side.  He darted across the parking lot and jumped into the passenger seat just as I was pulling out of the parking spot.

“Where is she?” he asked, out of breath.

I pointed to the red taillights that were just disappearing around the corner.  “Over there, in the green Volkswagen.”

I punched the accelerator and headed for the parking lot exit.  A string of cars kept me from pulling out onto the main drag.  “Come on, come on, come on,” I chanted, trying to will the traffic to cooperate.  Finally, a red light stopped the traffic, and I squealed the tires as I sped out onto the boulevard.

“Can you see her?” I asked, scanning the road ahead.

“No.  She’s too far ahead of us,” Craig said, straining to see in the dark.

I drove to the next signal and waited at the red light.  “I wonder what spooked
her?
” I said, impatiently drumming the steering wheel with my thumbs.  I peered out all the windows trying to spot the little green Bug.

“I don’t know.  You don’t suppose Peter tipped her off, do you?”

“It crossed my mind.  Either way, she’s like a scared rabbit now.  I hope we haven’t lost her for good.”  The light turned green and I lurched out into the intersection.  Just as I crossed, a green Volkswagen screeched to a stop on the cross street.  “That’s her!” I blurted, spinning the wheel to turn into a gas station on the corner.

“Take it easy,” Craig said.  “Don’t want to let her know we’re following her.”

I eased into a parking space and watched her car.  “She’s probably lost.  She’s even worse than I am.  I’ve never seen anyone spend more time going around in circles.”

Her light turned green and she moved hesitantly into the intersection, as if she were debating which way to turn.  I slowly backed out of the parking spot and pulled onto the road behind her.

“Okay, now just hang back a little,” Craig instructed.

“I will.  Just don’t let me lose her.”

Just as I said it, she gunned the little engine and darted in and out of traffic like an Indy racer.

“She’s getting away,” Craig said, peering over the dashboard to keep her in view.

I checked over my shoulder and changed lanes.  I jammed my foot into the accelerator and weaved in and out of traffic to catch up to her.

“She turned right at that next street,” Craig said, pointing through the windshield.

“I see her,” I said, barreling around the corner after her.  I kept enough distance between us that she shouldn’t suspect we were following her.  She seemed to be generating her own panic.  Her speed kept increasing, but I hung back just enough to keep her lights in view.

“I didn’t know those little cars could move that fast,” Craig said.  We had left the congestion of the city traffic and were on a dark, lightly traveled road, headed south.  “How fast are we going?”

I checked the speedometer.  “Eighty-eight,” I answered.

The road was rough and full of potholes.  Up until that point, it was also straight, but something looked awry up ahead.  “Slow down, Dev,” Craig said, bracing himself by putting his hand on the dash.

Casey had lost her senses.  She was driving like a maniac.  She didn’t see the curve in the road, or maybe she thought she could make it, but the laws of physics proved her wrong.  From our distant view, we could see the lights of her car tumble over and over, like a wild ride at the county fair. 

I skidded to a stop at the point where she left the road.  Craig grabbed a flashlight and was out of the car before I could set the parking brake.  There were no other cars around for miles.  I ran after him, down a steep embankment to the wreck. 

Craig and I struggled to get the door open.  The car was upside down, and Casey hadn’t taken the time to fasten her seatbelt.  She looked pretty banged up, but she was alive. 

“I smell gasoline,” I said as I reached in and turned the key in the ignition to the off position.

Craig handed me the flashlight. 
“Me too.
  We better get her out of here before it blows.”

Casey moaned as Craig and I pulled her out of the car.  We drug her as far away as we thought was safe, then Craig began examining her injuries.  Seconds later, the Volkswagen’s gas tank exploded.  We both jumped at the sound and cringed as the entire car was engulfed in flames.

“Casey?  Can you hear me?” Craig shouted at her.

She mumbled something inaudible, but nodded her head.

“I’m a doctor, Casey.  I work at San Diego General.  You’re
gonna
be okay, but we have to get you to a hospital.  Do you understand?” he continued yelling.

She nodded again,
then
opened her mouth to speak.  She had to repeat herself three times before we could understand her.  “Not here,” she said.

“Not here?  You mean not in Mexico?” Craig pressed.

She nodded.  “Get me home.”

Craig and I exchanged glances.  We wanted to take her back, but we hadn’t counted on this.  I didn’t know how badly hurt she was.  “What do you think?” I said.

Craig looked up the hill toward the road where our car was parked.  “She’s got a broken arm and probably a concussion. 
Possibly some internal injuries.”

Casey opened her eyes and grabbed his arm.  “Get me out of Mexico!” she demanded.

“Okay, okay.  Calm Down, Casey.  We’ll get you out of here,” Craig assured her.

We carried her up the embankment and carefully placed her in the back seat of our car.  Craig cov
ered her with a blanket he kept
in the trunk.  Casey was moving in and out of consciousness.  “Casey?  Can you hear me?” Craig asked her before we closed the door.  She nodded.

“Keep this blanket over you until we get past the border.”

She didn’t speak, but I could see her nod slightly under the blanket.

Craig got behind the wheel and I took the passenger seat.  When we got to the border, we were waved through without incident.  Casey looked like a sleeping child in the back seat, and with her entire body covered by the blanket, her injuries went unnoticed. 

I phoned Sam and told him to meet us at the hospital.  We drove directly to the emergency entrance.  Craig supervised the transport of Casey into the emergency room while I explained to Sam what happened.  He and I sat in the waiting room until Craig came to update us on Casey’s condition.

Casey’s parents hurried into the waiting room just as Craig came in.  “Where is she?  Is she okay?  What’s happened?” Otis
Biggsmuth
blurted, not giving Craig a chance to answer.

Craig tried to calm him down.  “Are you Casey’s parents?” he asked.

“Yes.  Yes.  Is she okay?” Mrs.
Biggsmuth
said.

“She’s going to be fine.  She’s got a broken arm and a concussion, but no internal injuries.  She was very lucky.”

Craig hadn’t even finished his sentence, and Sam was gone.  He was on his way to the emergency room.

Otis
Biggsmuth
tried to stop him.  “Wait a minute!  Where’s he going?  You tell him to leave my little girl alone!” he hollered.

Craig ran after both of them, and I followed.  Sam pushed his way to the gurney where Casey laid, staring at the ceiling.  Otis grabbed him by the arm and knocked him down.  I could see fire in Sam’s eyes.  He got to his feet, pointed a finger at Otis and clenched his jaw.  “You do that again, and I’ll cuff you to the bumper
of
one of those ambulances out there and drag your sorry hide to Canada and back,” he hissed.

Otis didn’t back down.  “Go ahead.  I’ll sue yo
u and the entire department for
—“

“Go away, Dad,” Casey mumbled, loud enough to be heard.

“What did you say?” Otis demanded, like a drill sergeant, ready to ambush.

By this time, Mrs.
Biggsmuth
had joined the scene.  Craig was trying his best to herd everyone out of the emergency room, but Sam and Otis were at a standoff.

“I said go away.  I don’t want you here,” Casey repeated.  She made a sweeping motion with her splinted arm as if to clear the entire room.

A pair of muscle-bound orderlies arrived just in time to help Craig regain control.  He made everyone return to the waiting room until Casey could be transported to a private room.  Everyone except Sam, who refused to let Casey out of his site until she was in police custody.  He called the station to have an officer stand guard at her room.

I wanted to avoid Otis
Biggsmuth
.  He was as mad as a fighting bull, and I didn’t want to be around if he punched a hole in something, or someone.  I wandered back down the hall and around the corner to find Sam and Craig conversing.  Craig waved me to join them.

“How is she?” I asked.

“She’s fine, and she’s under arrest,” Sam answered.

“Already?
  But I thought
—“

“It was her idea.  She wouldn’t stop confessing until I let Sam in to read her
her
rights,” Craig explained.

I moved closer to Craig and squeezed his hand.  “I think we might be in some kind of trouble, though.  She might not have crashed if we weren’t chasing her.  I know her father will want to hang us out to dry.”

“That’s only if he knows, which I doubt he ever will.  Besides, even if he does make a fuss, it’s my opinion that you were a couple of good Samaritans who just happened to be driving by and saw the accident,” Sam assured me.  “You two saved her life.”

Suddenly, I remembered Peter Champion, whom we’d left at the hotel in Tijuana.  “We need to go talk to Peter to find out what happened.  If he tipped her off, there’s a chance that he was also involved in Lou’s murder.”

Sam shook his head.  “He wasn’t involved.  She told me what happened.  Did you ask him if he’d ever sailed before you came up with your plan?”

“No,” I answered.

“Well, Casey has been sailing since she was four.  When he showed her those pictures of your boat, she asked him a few basic questions.  He didn’t have a clue.  That’s what made her suspicious and caused her to run,” Sam said.

Craig put his arm around my shoulders.  “The one hole in our perfect plan,” he said.  “We better go get your car and let Peter know what’s going on.”

We both looked to Sam for permission to leave.  He waved us off like a pair of obedient dogs who’d performed well for houseguests.

Chapter Sixteen

C
asey remained in the hospital until she was well enough to go to jail.  Her father hired a team of expensive attorneys who would, no doubt, put every resource they had into getting her sentence minimized to something obscene.  I wondered if those lawyers would mind if the judge released her into their custody, and they could be responsible for her actions for the rest of her life.

Sam had interrogated her several times.  She confessed that she knew about Lou’s fishing trip because he’d told her about it the day he bought the winning ticket.  She remembered where he kept the spare key because once she had to make a grocery delivery to the house when Lou’s wife was ill and Lou had to be out of town.  He informed her where the key was so she could let herself in without disturbing Mrs.
Winnomore
.

She’d gotten the cyanide from a local chemical supply firm where one of her classmates worked part-time.  She’d used what she learned from Peter Champion’s art classes to come up with a formula to cover my signature on the back of the lottery ticket.  She’d done a good job.  It fooled the lottery officials, but now that the murder investigation was in full swing, the ticket would have to be closely inspected and put through a battery of tests.  Undoubtedly, my original signature would be uncovered and a whole new can of worms would be opened.

I had to remind Sam three times that I’d won our bet.  The murderer was in fact female, just as I’d predicted.  He tried to weasel out, so I let him modify the payoff.  He agreed to buy the food and drinks, and Craig and I took him out on the
Plan C
for a weekend fishing trip.  That made it a win-win all the way around.

Bridgett
Winnomore
hired an attorney to help reclaim the million dollars that rightfully belonged to Lou
Winnomore’s
heirs.  In all likelihood, the money would be spit equally between her son, Scotty, and Lou’s two remaining children, Frank and Nellie.  Of course, Raven Covina would petition for half of Scotty’s inheritance for her own son,
Bahama
Breeze.  Bridgett was also going to try to reclaim Arthur Simon’s winnings.  Even before she knew that it would be my signature found on the ticket, and not Lou
Winnomore’s
, she insisted on naming me as a beneficiary in
her lawsuit, along with her family.  Gary at the King Rooster had given her a job at my recommendation, and she was so thankful, she wanted to pay me back. 

Of course, there was no telling how it would all turn out.  It would probably depend on who had the better lawyers.  I figured Simon could afford the best, so his chances for keeping at least some of the money
were
pretty good.  Even if he had to give it up in the end, he’d earn so much interest on it during the years that he’d probably drag it out in court that he’d still come out ahead.  

I’d just put the last coat of paint on Rancho Costa Little, and had an appointment to meet Fiona there so I could sign the sales listing.  She barreled down the road in her big boat of a car and screeched to a halt in front of the house.  I watched her pile out of the car and open the trunk.  She hoisted a Fiona
Oliviera
Realty sign out and hung it on the post that was still planted in the ground from when I originally bought the house.

I invited her in to see how I’d fixed the place up, and to sign the papers.

“Oh, it’s just darling, toots!” she exclaimed as she wandered through the house, admiring the rooms.  “You did such a good job.”

I thanked her and we stood at the kitchen counter to go over the papers.  She suggested an asking price, which was exactly what I had in mind, so the rest was easy.  I signed the papers and she quickly handed me my copies and headed for the door.

“Want to celebrate?  We could head over to Miguel’s for a Margarita,” I said as she was nearly out the door.

“Can’t tonight, toots.
  Got a date,” she said.

I raised my eyebrows. 
“A date?
 
With who?”
I asked.

“Arthur Simon,” she answered, grinning from ear to ear, exposing that big gap between her front teeth.

“I guess you finally got his number,” I said, laughing.

“I certainly do.  If it works out, I’ll invite you to the wedding,” she said as she gave me a wink and headed out the door.

I locked up Rancho Costa Little and headed for my car.  I had to make one stop on the way home.  Craig had called me earlier in the day to tell me he was taking me out to dinner.  He was being very sly on the phone, so I guessed he was up to something.

I walked into the house carrying a big box wrapped with a large red ribbon and decked out with a bow.  Craig greeted me at the door.  He was holding an envelope, also decorated with a bow.

“Hey, yours is bigger than mine,” he said, pointing at the box in my arms.

“What do you mean?” I asked, staring at the envelope in his hand.

We carried our gifts into the living room.  I made Craig open his first.  He was as excited about his new banjo as a kid getting his very own fire truck.  He picked out a few vaguely familiar tunes and assured me that with a little practice, he’d be playing at the annual Bluegrass Festival with the pros.

I carefully opened the envelope he’d given me and pulled out the bundle of brochures.  One was for Yellowstone National Park, one was for the Kentucky Derby, and the other for the Grand Ole
Opry
in Nashville.  I smiled at him.

“The Derby is the first Saturday in May, so we need to start planning now,” he said.

“Really?
  We’re going?”

“That’s just this year.  Next year, we’ll pick some more places we’d like to see.  No point in waiting for someday.  Someday never happens.”

I spread the brochures out on the table in front of me and listened to my banjo-playing husband pluck out another tune.  No amount of money in the world could have made me happier than I was at that moment.  I closed my eyes and wondered what I’d wear to the Derby.