Stuck on Murder (26 page)

“Y—you were the one having an affair with Jim,” Cynthia said.

“What?” Tenley gasped.

“Oh, don’t sound so shocked, Little Miss Morse Point. It’s no worse than you slumming with your bartender, what’s his name, Tom Collins? No, that’s a drink. I bet he knows how to make a good one, though, doesn’t he?” Phyllis purred.

Tenley hissed.

Cynthia seemed bewildered. “How long did it go on?”

“A little over a year,” Phyllis said. “What can I say? He felt he needed someone more his social equal.”

This was good, Brenna thought, they needed to keep her talking.

“Then why have an affair?” Brenna asked. “Why didn’t he just leave Cynthia for you?”

“Perhaps you should ask his killer,” Phyllis said as she circled Cynthia’s chair.

“I didn’t kill him,” Cynthia protested. “When I left him, he was alive.”

“Liar!” Phyllis yelled. “You bashed him on the head with that birdhouse. You wanted him dead.”

“No, we had a fight. I was angry when I discovered he was cheating, but I never meant to kill him,” she argued.

“But you left him,” Phyllis said, continuing to circle like a vulture eyeing a carcass. “You left him there, bleeding on the floor. So, he came to me.”

“I had to get away,” Cynthia said. “I couldn’t think. He was yelling at me after I hit him and I was afraid.”

“Likely story,” Phyllis scoffed. “When I found him—”

“When you found him?” Brenna interrupted. “I thought you said he came to you?”

“Don’t interrupt me!” Phyllis screeched and raised her hand as if she’d hit her.

Brenna didn’t flinch. If Phyllis came within striking distance, she planned to kick out her bound ankles and knock Phyllis down. As if sensing danger, Phyllis lowered her arm and backed up. She smirked at Brenna as if she knew what she was thinking.

“Fine then,” she said. “I happened to be waiting outside. When Cynthia stormed out, I took Jim to my house for a little TLC.”

Phyllis paced around the table until she stood behind Cynthia, who was now silently crying.

“That’s right. I was going to take your husband.” She ran a hand over Cynthia’s short-cropped blond hair, a mimic of her own. “Just because you dress like me and talk like me, doesn’t mean you can be me, you know. Jim knew the difference. He knew quality when he saw it.”

Two red spots flared on Cynthia’s cheeks.

“Really?” she snapped. “Then why did you kill him? Could it be because he wouldn’t leave me for you?”

Phyllis sucked in a gasp of air through her teeth. “I didn’t kill him.”

“I don’t believe you,” Cynthia said. She glared at her former friend, looking stronger than she had in days. “When I left him, he was angry and bleeding but alive. You said you took him to your place, so what happened, Phyllis? What did you do to my husband?”

Phyllis paled. Her lips were pressed tightly together as if she hadn’t anticipated Cynthia putting up a fight, and now she wasn’t sure what to do.

“I think I can answer that,” Brenna said, drawing their attention to her. “Phyllis stuffed Jim into the trunk in her study and then floated him in the lake, hoping no doubt that everyone would think Nate did it.”

“How did you . . . what makes you think . . . well, that’s just . . .” Phyllis’s voice trailed off.

“I found Jim in the trunk,” Brenna said. “I got a pretty good look at it. Cynthia gave me a picture from the Harvest Ball, taken in your study in front of the same trunk. I recognized it.”

“Where is it? Where’s the photo?” Phyllis snapped.

“I gave it to Chief Barker,” Brenna lied. “He’ll be here any minute.”

Phyllis’s eyes grew wide and then narrowed. “Nice try.”

Brenna shrugged. “What I can’t figure out is why. Why’d you kill him, Phyllis?”

“Because,” she spat. “While I was struggling to keep him conscious, he told me he could never leave dear Cynthia, because it would damage him politically. The bastard!”

Brenna looked past Phylis and saw Tenley leaning forward against the table. Her face was tight, and beads of sweat were popping out on her forehead. She was inching her hands across the table, trying to remove the X-Acto Knife with the tips of her fingers and not be noticed.

“So, you must have known Cynthia would be the primary suspect,” Brenna said. She knew she had to keep her talking until Tenley could get the knife. “Why did you give Cynthia an alibi? Why didn’t you let her take the fall? Wouldn’t that have been the ultimate revenge?”

“It would have been, but don’t you see?” Phyllis asked. “It was brilliant. When Jim’s body was found in that trunk, Cynthia came to me and asked me to lie for her.”

Cynthia nodded. “It’s true,” she said. “I knew that, as his wife, I’d be the prime suspect, and I had no alibi as I’d just been driving around, fuming about his affair.”

“So when Cynthia asked me to lie for her, it was perfect,” Phyllis said. “I lie for her and keep her forever in my debt. Meanwhile I save myself.”

Brenna saw Tenley lower the knife to the floor. Her hands were bound more tightly than Brenna’s. There was no way she could cut herself free. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tenley push the knife toward her with the toe of her sneaker. Brenna feigned a sneeze, and when Phyllis turned away in disgust, she bent and swiftly grabbed the handle of the blade. Working under the cover of the table top, she wedged the handle between her knees and quietly worked the tape across the blade, while Tenley distracted Phyllis.

“I don’t believe you,” Tenley said. “There’s no way you could have stuffed the mayor into a trunk and shoved him into the lake all by yourself. You’re too old.”

Phyllis’s eyes widened with outrage. She lifted her left arm and made a muscle, which she patted with her free hand.

“I’ll have you know, I’m in excellent physical condition,” Phyllis said. “Jim could tell you. I held a pillow over his face until he was gone. Then I hefted him into the trunk. The pillow was the hardest part, as he put up a bit of a fuss. But then I used a dolly and my gardener’s pickup truck to load the trunk and drive it to the lake. No one can tie me to the crime. In fact, the one person who saw the truck thought it was Nate Williams’s truck.”

Phyllis was facing Cynthia, as if enjoying telling her the grisly details of her husband’s death. Brenna took the opportunity to slash through the tape on Tenley’s wrists and then passed the knife to Tenley so she could free Cynthia.

“So, why did you go after Ed?” Brenna asked. “He was helping you out by printing stories that Nate was the murderer.”

“That little weasel,” Phyllis scoffed. “He wouldn’t let it go. He questioned the witness who saw the truck and they got a partial license plate that did not match Nate Williams’s plate. When he came to talk to Patrick, I knew he’d figured out it was Patrick’s truck and not Nate’s.”

Brenna remembered Ed had said, “The plate doesn’t match,” when they found him in the alley. He’d been talking about the license plates. It all seemed so obvious now.

“He wasn’t supposed to live, and once I’m done here, I don’t imagine he will for much longer,” Phyllis said.

Brenna felt a chill go up her spine. Phyllis wasn’t just a rebuffed lover, who had gotten carried away when she went for revenge; she was straight-up crazy.

Just then, Cynthia erupted from the table with a guttural roar. Phyllis grabbed another knife from a nearby shelf and tried to fend her off, but Cynthia was a force of fury. She slapped the knife out of Phyllis’s hand and with claws out, she went right for her eyes. Phyllis tucked her head and covered up with her arms, but Cynthia just switched direction and went for her hair. Growing up in the projects in Boston had given Cynthia some skills.

“What’s the matter, Phyllis?” Cynthia taunted her. “You can’t subdue me by threatening to hurt Tenley now, can you?”

Phyllis shrieked. Brenna and Tenley exchanged glances as they jumped from their seats. The two women were crab-walking across the room, spinning as Phyllis tried to wriggle out of Cynthia’s hold. Meanwhile, Cynthia was using her free hand to slap or punch any part of Phyllis she could reach.

“Call the police,” Brenna ordered, and Tenley raced for the phone.

“You lying—cheating—murdering—” Cynthia punctuated each word with a hit. The last few words were buried as she bent over to get a better grip on Phyllis.

Phyllis shimmied out of her hold, dropped to the floor, and then dashed for the door. Brenna went to step in front of her, but Phyllis raised her hand and Brenna saw the glint of the X-Acto Knife. She ducked and rolled out of the way.

Cynthia was not about to let her get away, however. Just before Phyllis reached the door, Cynthia launched herself at the other woman in a move reminiscent of an NFL defensive tackle. They hit the glass door with such force that they shattered it, the momentum carrying them through the shards to the street beyond.

Brenna ran through the gaping hole and saw Cynthia, sitting on top of Phyllis, and despite the fact that she was scratched and bleeding, Cynthia wore a look of triumph while she held the X-Acto-Knife in one hand and a chunk of Phyllis’s hair in the other.

Tenley appeared at Brenna’s elbow.

“Chief Barker is on his way,” she said.

In the distance, Brenna could hear a siren wail. Heads poked out of the shops surrounding them as people started to gather and stare.

Phyllis was wailing almost louder than the chief’s car when he pulled up, but Cynthia ignored her.

“Quit whining,” she snapped, and she sat down harder on Phyllis’s lower back.

Matt ran down the sidewalk, pushing past the gawkers, to get to Tenley. Without pausing, he grabbed her and hugged her close.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “I heard the crash from the restaurant.”

“Fine,” she said. It was a blatant lie. Her hands were shaking as she shoved a stray lock of blond hair behind her ear. Matt looped an arm around her, locking her to his side.

“Brenna!” a voice called, and she glanced up to see Nate pushing his way through the crowd to get to her.

An arm draped around her from the right, however, and she turned to find Dom Cappicola standing beside her.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I heard the commotion all the way at Stan’s.”

“I’m fine,” she said. It felt good to have something solid to lean against, and she took a moment to appreciate his warmth and his strength.

When she looked up, Nate was in front of them, glaring at Dom as if he’d stolen his parking spot.

Chief Barker hauled Cynthia off Phyllis. Both women started screeching at the same time, and Phyllis took a swing at Cynthia. Chief Barker seemed to decide they both needed to be subdued. So, Phyllis was handcuffed and put in the chief’s car, while Cynthia was handcuffed and put in Officer DeFalco’s car.

“Brenna Miller.” The chief barked her name and she jumped, stepping away from Dom and Nate. He seemed at a loss for words. “Explain.”

She did. It was the short version, but he got the gist.

“Can you and Tenley come over to the station and give statements?” he asked her.

“Sure.” She nodded.

“I’ll give you a lift,” Dom offered.

“No, I’ll take her,” Nate said.

The two men stared at one another for a second. Ridiculous.

“I think I’ll just walk,” Brenna said. She strode through the crowd and back into the paper store to get her purse. Tenley, looking flushed, met her in the storeroom.

“What happened here? How did Phyllis tie you two up?” Brenna asked the question that had been bothering her since she’d found them bound and gagged.

Tenley looked pained. “Phyllis snuck up behind me, and before I knew it I was duct taped like a leaky pipe. Then Cynthia came in, and Phyllis threatened to cut me if Cynthia didn’t tape herself up, much like she did with you.”

“I never suspected Phyllis,” Brenna said.

“Me neither,” Tenley agreed. “Quite a day, eh?”

“I’ll say.”

“We’d better go. The Porter sisters are going to watch the shop while we’re at the station.”

“Good,” Brenna said. She handed Tenley her purse and grabbed her own. As they made their way to the door, Tenley gave her a funny look.

“What? Is there glass in my hair?” Brenna asked.

“No, but Dom and Nate look ready to club one another out there, and Ruby Wolcott said that a nurse at the hospital, Kim Lebrowski, confirmed what Phyllis said about you kissing Dom right in the middle of the critical care unit,” Tenley said. “Is this true?”

Brenna groaned. “Yes.”

“I thought you liked Nate,” she said.

“I do,” Brenna said. “But . . . it’s complicated.”

“And Dom?” she asked.

“He’s just . . .” Brenna trailed off and Tenley said, “Hot.”

“Yeah,” Brenna agreed. “I like them both. Is that bad?”

“Not if you don’t mind having an admirer or two.” Tenley tried not to laugh and failed miserably.

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and Chief Barker will arrest me,” Brenna said.

“You can always hope.”

They pushed their way through the crowd, ignoring the murmurs that followed them, and strode down the sidewalk to the police station on the corner with their heads held high.

 

 

Brenna sat on her front steps, watching the amber rays of the setting sun reflected in the glassy surface of the lake. She had a batch of brownies in the oven, and the scent of baking chocolate wafted on the air in tantalizing bursts.

A bark sounded and she looked up to see Hank bounding toward her. His golden hair looked aflame in the setting sun, and she grinned when he stopped in front of her and pressed his head against her leg, demanding love.

“Hiya, boy,” she said. She hugged him close and buried her nose in his neck.

“Do I smell brownies?”

Brenna glanced up to see Nate striding down the path toward her. She felt her insides flip-flop at the sight of him. She hadn’t been alone with him since the scene in front of the paper store. Even at the mayor’s funeral, she had been sure to keep Tenley and Matt with her at all times, mostly to ward off the gossips, but also to avoid the awkwardness of talking to Nate. Now it seemed she had no choice.