Hit and Run (32 page)

‘I know you didn't,' AnnaLise said. ‘I guess … well, I guess I know now how Daisy felt when I accused somebody
she
loves.'

‘Your mother may care about Boozer, but not the way you love Daisy. And, again, I truly apologize.'

AnnaLise gave her a hug. ‘All forgiven.'

‘Can we just agree to still suspect Debbie for the time being?' Joy offered. ‘It would make everything
so
much tidier.'

‘Agreed,' AnnaLise said, before reaching and pulling open the door to the Lake Room. ‘And I'm grateful we can expand the list to include a few spares like Eddie, Tyler and—'

‘Do I hear my name?' Tyler Puckett was standing at the bar and turned, drink in hand, as they crossed the threshold from the patio. ‘What happened to you two lovely ladies?'

‘It's snowing,' AnnaLise said, using her blanket to try to mop up the mess she was making on the floor. The mess she'd continue to make with her mouth was unfixable.

‘So I noticed. Was this forecast?' Tyler seemed more concerned about the weather than anything AnnaLise might be saying about him.

‘We're in the High Country during late November,' Joy said, brushing herself off before joining Tyler at the bar to empty a wine bottle into the same glass that had held the Scotch. ‘Forecasts don't help much. It can be blizzarding on one side of the mountain and not on the other.'

‘Hope this doesn't keep us from leaving on Sunday,' Tyler said, bringing his drink along to look out the unboarded window. ‘Our flight is at nine a.m. out of Charlotte.'

Joy actually uttered the ‘harrumph' sound. ‘That will make for an early – no, a very early – morning. You're two-and-a-half hours from the airport, even on dry pavement.'

‘Tyler, have you been cleared to leave?' AnnaLise asked.

He paused with the glass halfway to his lips. ‘Cleared?'

‘As in, by the police.'

‘Oh, your down-home, husband-and-wife tag team?' Tyler, grinning, brought his drink all the way to his mouth for a hearty swig. ‘No, but I'm sure even a podunk county sheriff's department will be able to straighten things out once they get here and arrest that missing chef.'

AnnaLise swallowed his insult to her homeland. ‘Debbie Dobyns?'

‘An eminently doable piece like that in jail – what a waste.'

‘Christ.' Joy rolled her eyes as she took a first hit of wine. ‘Maybe he
is
Hart's bastard kid.'

Just another grin. ‘Only time – and modern means of testing – will tell.'

‘As far as Debbie is concerned,' AnnaLise said, ‘she may be the current prime suspect, but we all know that I'm next, with you and Eddie right behind me. It's anybody's guess when the sheriff's department will let any of us fly this gilded cage.'

Tyler frowned and the freckles on his nose seemed to congeal. ‘Why would I – or Eddie, for that matter – be suspects? We barely knew the man.'

‘And yet you both hoped to inherit tens of millions from him,' Joy said, getting into the spirit of the moment. ‘That kind of swag would come in pretty handy, I'll wager.'

Definitely no grin now. ‘What are you implying?'

‘The police know about your recent stock dealings,' said AnnaLise. ‘And that they cost your clients quite a chunk of money.'

Tyler's face beneath the freckles grew pale. ‘Everybody knows it's been a bad year for the market.'

‘Not really,' Joy said. ‘In fact, my portfolios – and lots belonging to others – rebounded nicely. Some temporary ups and downs, of course, but nothing like what your clients seem to have experienced.' She took a measured sip from her wine. ‘Might even be downright criminal.'

AnnaLise threw Joy a look that said,
You're making this up as you go
, and, simultaneously,
Well done!

‘Those charges were dropped,' Tyler said. ‘And I did nothing wrong.'

‘Then you have nothing to worry about from either our “husband-and-wife” tag team or the probably equally inept sheriff's department.'

‘Listen,' Tyler said. ‘I'm sorry if I insulted your “High Country,” but—'

‘Is AnnaLise …? Oh, there you are.' Lacey Capri was at the hallway door. She held up AnnaLise's iPad. ‘I'm afraid your battery died.'

‘I'll run up and get the charger,' AnnaLise said. ‘Just a sec.'

‘Criminally' leaving the young Lacey to referee Joy and Tyler, AnnaLise took the stairs two steps at a time, grateful to be away from any confrontation, even one that might prove advancing.

Once inside her room, though, she had no idea where the aforementioned charger might be.

The valets Hart had hired for Wednesday – could that have been only forty-eight hours ago? – had unpacked the arriving guests' luggage. Opening drawers, AnnaLise pushed aside the clothes she'd brought for the stay. Nothing.

The iPad itself had been on top of the desk before she'd lent it to Lacey, but there was no charger there either. And no telltale cords trailed from any outlets she could see, except the one for her cellphone.

AnnaLise briefly examined the phone charger, wondering if it could be used for her iPad, too. Probably not. ‘Damned essential technology.'

She moved to the room's closet, thinking she might have packed the charger in a side pocket of her navy suitcase. Which, if memory served, the valet had hoisted onto the highest—

Lost in thought and reaching for the door's handle, AnnaLise was unprepared for the heavy, paneled slab of wood to be flung outward with such velocity it slammed the back of her skull into the bedroom wall.

W
hat the hell … had just … happened?

Stunned and on the floor with her back against the wall, AnnaLise gathered her thoughts before she struggled to her feet, kicking the offending door back toward its frame.

As it struck and half-rebounded, there was a timid knock from the hallway outside, then a creak as a voice said, ‘AnnaLise?'

Lacey Capri's face appeared. ‘I'm sorry, but did you find—' The blue eyes now focused with concern on AnnaLise's. ‘Are you OK?'

The reporter took her hand away from a rapidly bulging lump on the back of her head and checked her fingers and palm for any blood. Nope. ‘I'm fine, but someone must have been in my closet. Did you see anything in the hallway?'

‘Nobody, I only just came up the stairs,' Lacey said, eyes now wide and a little scared. ‘Are you sure you're not hurt?'

The reporter realized she was spooking the girl and raised both hands. ‘I'm sure, truly. Just got a bump on the head and I'm a little … well, shocked.'

‘What was somebody doing in your closet?' Seemingly reassured, Lacey's question had a note of outrage in it.

AnnaLise shook her head, as much to clear it as to answer. ‘The door flew out and knocked me against the wall but whoever was behind it was gone by the time I pushed the thing out of my face and looked around. As for why he or she came in here, I don't have the faintest idea.' AnnaLise swung the closet door wide open.

‘Anything taken?' Lacey asked.

‘Taken, no.' AnnaLise stared down at an object lying crumpled on top of her neatly arranged shoes.

‘Oh, what a cute little …' Before AnnaLise could react, Lacey reached in and retrieved it.

‘No!' AnnaLise reflexively grabbed the revoltingly familiar floral bag away from the girl. Then immediately thought,
Damn.

Damn, damn, damn.

‘I'm sorry,' Lacey said, her nose reddening as tears began welling over.

‘It's not you,' the journalist said a little too sharply as she dropped the bag on the floor. Then she softened her voice and pointed down. ‘It's just … that.'

Lacey took a step back. ‘Is there something inside?' She shuddered. ‘A spider? Or a snake. Ohmigod, I hope it's not a snake. I
hate
them!'

AnnaLise shook her head. ‘I don't know if there's anything in it. But I'm afraid something could be
on
it.' She looked at Lacey. ‘This is the bag I saw in Dickens Hart's room.'

Three quick blinks, residual tears trickling down from the nose-side corners of the teenager's eyes. ‘I don't understand.'

AnnaLise sighed. ‘I was in Dickens' room before he was killed and, well, that thing,' she pointed again, ‘was on his chair when I left. Only the bag was gone when his body was found the next morning.'

Lacey's eyes grew wider than her earlier smile. ‘You think it belongs to the killer?'

‘I don't know.'

‘But where did you find—' Then the girl's expression hardened. ‘Wait a second. Is that why you were in
our
closet last night? Looking for this thing?'

Embarrassed, AnnaLise said, ‘Well, I—'

‘Because later, thinking about what you said, I didn't see why you'd be turning down our bed.' Lacey struck a proud pose. ‘It wasn't turned down any other night, and in mysteries that's the first clue the detective looks for: something out of place.'

‘And I was out of place,' AnnaLise admitted. ‘If it's any comfort, my plan was to search everybody's room. You just happened to be the one who caught me.'

Lacey blinked, this time just once. ‘And did you?'

‘Did I …?'

‘Search everybody's room for that bag?'

‘Uh, no,' AnnaLise admitted. ‘In fact, your room was the first and only place I looked.'

‘Well, that's not very comprehensive of you,' Lacey said like a disapproving chief inspector in a middle-school play. Then her face changed. ‘But if you didn't keep searching, how did you find it?'

‘I didn't. Whoever attacked me must have stashed it here.'

‘Interesting.' The girl was evidently warming to her mock investigation. ‘So it wasn't there when—' Lacey's hand flew to her mouth. ‘Ohmigod, that's what you meant by something
on
the bag. Fingerprints!'

And maybe – worse – blood, thought AnnaLise. The bag had felt damp to her touch when she'd grabbed it away from the teenager.

‘This is
so
like in the mystery novels,' Lacey was saying, her eyes now like saucers. ‘I touched the bag, so now my fingerprints will be on the thing.'

‘Mine, too. But at least we have each other to explain why.'

Lacey slumped her shoulders, but seemed to lighten up, too. ‘That's true, isn't it?' Another glance down. ‘So, do you think it's OK for us to look inside while it's still here?' She took a hesitant step forward.

AnnaLise stopped her. ‘Uh-unh. The two of us have probably done enough damage.'

‘Well, OK. But we should call the police. You were assaulted.'

And have the bump to prove it, thankfully
. Even so, AnnaLise didn't relish handing Coy and Charity yet another piece of evidence against her in the form of the floral bag. Especially given where it had apparently been hidden. ‘It's nearly ten.'

Lacey looked the most surprised AnnaLise had seen her to date. ‘And that's late here?'

Outside, snow was piling up on the balcony above the French door's sill. ‘In this kind of weather, yes.'

Lacey cocked her head. ‘But Officer Fearon is right downstairs. We can report the attack on you and give
him
the bag. Want me to get him?'

‘Please,' AnnaLise said. The girl was right, of course, and there was no use putting it off.

The teenager started for the hall door.

‘But first, Lacey?'

‘Yes?'

‘Bring Mr Hoag up here, OK?'

‘Lawyer before cop. Good idea.'

The upstairs hallway had seemed large when AnnaLise had arrived Wednesday afternoon, but with the entire assemblage of guests crammed elbow-to-elbow in it, the space now seemed awfully tight.

‘Are you sure you weren't badly hurt?' Patrick Hoag whispered to AnnaLise. They were standing just inside her bedroom with Lacey Capri, while Gary Fearon, hovering over the floral bag, pulled on latex gloves.

‘Yes, and thank you for being here. You're the closest thing I have to legal counsel right now.'

Hoag opened his mouth, but AnnaLise didn't give him a chance to comment or, more likely, object. ‘I know, I know. You can't represent me, Patrick. But you're an officer of the court, so I figured it couldn't hurt to have you around when Lacey brought in Officer Fearon. I just didn't expect,' she scanned the crowd, ‘that everybody else would come with you.'

That included both of AnnaLise's mothers, who had immediately rushed down to the kitchen, one – Daisy – returning with a bag of whole kernel corn from the freezer to soothe the bump on her daughter's head and the other – Mama – a bag of frozen green beans. AnnaLise had finally been forced to banish both them and their cryogenic veggies to the hallway.

‘Everybody was in the Lake Room,' Lacey said apologetically. ‘Word traveled kind of fast.'

‘Welcome to Sutherton,' AnnaLise heard Joy say from somewhere in the mob.

Fearon was lowering the small bag into a larger, clear plastic one, carefully making sure the handle and straps went in as well.

Straps? ‘Is that a backpack?' AnnaLise asked, squinting. The second shoulder strap must have been hidden underneath the bag as it lay on Hart's chair, but she'd been right that it would fit a change of clothes and a toothbrush. Definitely
not
a bottle-cum-murder-weapon, which explained why the killer hadn't thought to stuff the champagne bottle inside the bag and dispose of both as Joy had suggested.

‘Looks like it.'

‘Do you see any blood?'

Fearon glanced up reflexively. ‘Not on preliminary visual examination. You have reason to expect there would be?'

AnnaLise nodded. ‘The champagne bottle that killed Dickens was found on the chair where that sat the night before. I thought if Dickens' blood had gotten on the bag, it would explain why the killer dumped the thing.'