The Deep End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 2) (17 page)

“Oh, see?” She remained still on the step. “Shows how much I know.”

He put a hand on the banister. “Williams was arrested, you say?”

She nodded. “They found him lurking outside our house, probably hoping for another shot at Charlotte.”

“How is Charlotte?” he asked and Kit noticed a tiny bead of sweat forming on his forehead. “Has she remembered anything?”

“No. Only that she got whacked on the head. She didn’t see Brendan, but the police are confident they’ll find the evidence they need. He’s a big guy. He’d have no problem drowning Jasmine or hurting Charlotte.”

Believing Kit’s lie, Jackson visibly relaxed.

“Is there anything I can help with here?” Kit asked. “I feel so awful for Rebecca and Charlotte. I just want to be useful.”

Jackson suddenly looked nervous. “Not up here. I’ll come down and we’ll talk.”

Kit suspected that he’d been sleeping in one of the rooms upstairs, hiding out in case his actions were discovered. She moved down to the foyer and waited for him to descend.

At that moment, the front door burst open and Romeo’s frame filled the doorway.

“Stop right there, Kohler,” he announced, his gun drawn.

Jackson turned and bolted back up the stairs.

“Romeo,” Kit complained. “I had it under control.”

Romeo ran past her, taking the steps two at a time. “The man is responsible for the death of one woman and the attempted murder of another.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “There are easier ways of getting out of a date with me.”

He disappeared around the corner at the top of the staircase as Kit hurried after him.

“How did you know not to go to Brooklyn?” she asked.

“Because, despite what you may think, I’m not an idiot.” His rugged jaw was set and he did not look happy.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” she insisted, catching up to him. A pillow flew past her head and Kit ducked. “A pillow? Why not something hard and breakable?”

She heard a door slam closed at the end of the corridor. Romeo stood in front of it, kicking.

“Open the door, Jackson,” he ordered. “There’s no way out unless you like the taste of concrete.”

There was no sound from the bedroom.

“I don’t want to shoot this door open, but I will,” Romeo threatened. “You never know where a stray bullet mind end up, though.”

Kit crept down the corridor, ignoring Romeo’s attempts to wave her away.

“Jackson, open the door,” Kit said calmly. “Tell us what happened. You’ll feel better when you do.” The criminals on
Fool’s Gold
invariably felt better after spilling their side of the story. It was cathartic.

“You said they arrested Brendan.” She could hear the complaining tone in Jackson’s muffled voice.

“Yes, I did say that,” Kit said, narrowing her eyes at Romeo. “I guess I lied.”

Romeo gave her a thumbs up. “Good thinking.”

“I know. If only someone hadn’t blown through the front door at that exact moment.”

He jerked his attention back to Jackson. “I’m counting to three, Jackson. Then I’m firing my weapon.”

The doorknob turned and Kit jumped back. It was an unnecessary impulse as Jackson exited the room holding an oversized pink pillow in front of him. Jasmine’s pillow, no doubt.

“She had it coming,” Jackson said. “That woman was a thieving, backstabbing whore.”

“Funny,” Kit remarked. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Jackson glared at her over the pillow. “You saints all think you’re so much better than everyone else,” he sneered, referencing Kit’s status as a descendant of Isaac Allerton, one of the pious Mayflower Pilgrims. “Some of us work our fingers to the bone while you compare trust funds and the square footage of vacation homes. We’re still the strangers in a land that’s never been completely ours.”

“You’re a lawyer, not a servant,” Kit said in disbelief. The Pilgrims known as the strangers were mostly merchants and servants, whereas the saints were the religious members of the contingency.

“Not much difference in it,” Jackson whined. “I still serve the saints in my own way.”

“You’re hardly someone to feel sorry for,” Kit said. “I’m sure you’re compensated well for your work.”

“My son rents an apartment the size of a shoe box,” he yelled.

“Don’t raise your voice to her,” Romeo warned, still pointing his gun.

Jackson shrunk back behind the pillow. “I pulled a few strings through my Westdale clients, managed to get him into the same school as the Winthrops and Musgroves and all the rest of you. And for what?”

“So that he could have access to an excellent education?” Kit offered, knowing that wasn’t likely the result Jackson cared about.

“So that he could make the connections that I failed to make,” Jackson told them. “Marry a Musgrove or get a job in financial services with a Breedlove. But did he do that?”

“I’m guessing not,” Kit said.

“No, he chose to move to Brooklyn to study filmmaking.” Jackson groaned and threw the pillow aside. “Now I’ll be supporting him for the rest of his life.”

“Welcome to parenthood,” Romeo remarked.

But Jackson hadn’t finished his tirade. “Do you know what it’s like to be around this incredible wealth day in and day out and not be able to enjoy any of it?” He spread his arms wide, his body racked with frustration. “I watched enormous sums of money change hands for thirty years but never into mine.”

Romeo shrugged. “Can’t say that it would bother me.”

Jackson looked down his nose at the detective. “That’s because you’re blue collar. You wouldn’t be privy to the inner circle no matter how much money you had.”

Kit took a meaningful step beside Romeo. “Trust me, he’s privy.”

Romeo latched on to the opportunity to pin her down. “So does that mean you’ll bring me to Greyabbey for dinner?”

Kit beamed at him. “I believe we made a deal.”

“Good because if we’re going to be in a relationship, then I think it’s important that we are open about it. I don’t want you to keep me sectioned off from the other part of your life. I don’t want to live in a relationship shoe box.”

Kit gaped at him. “Are we? In a relationship?”

Romeo winked at her. “Let’s finish up with Greedy McLawyer here, then we’ll talk about us.”

Us. Kit liked the sound of that more than she cared to admit.

“So what happened, Jackson?” Kit prompted. She was eager to have the killer offer his confession so that she could get straight to the boyfriend conversation. The latter was much more pressing.

“Jasmine and I reached an agreement,” Jackson admitted. “I supply a fraudulent will and she’d split the Tilton fortune with me. She was supposed to wire me half the money after John died. When it didn’t materialize, I came here to confront her.”

“Let me guess,” Romeo interjected. “She decided not to pay.”

“She laughed at me,” he blurted. “Called me an old fool. There she was, lounging poolside like a queen thanks to me.” His face was red with anger, remembering. “It was the last straw. We argued and she fell backward into the pool. I jumped in and grabbed her by the neck.” His voice trembled. “She spit water in my face and I snapped. I held her under until she stopped moving.”

Kit shifted uncomfortably, imagining Jasmine’s horrible final moments. As awful as she was, she didn’t deserve to die like that.

“And Charlotte?” Kit asked. “What did sweet Charlotte ever do to deserve your brand of justice?”

Jackson had the decency to look mildly remorseful. “You were there. Rebecca announced at the Pilgrim Society meeting that Charlotte had found something important of her father’s. I assumed it was a copy of the original will. I’d searched for it myself, knowing that John had a tendency to keep items of importance, but I never found it. Of course, I’d been looking through his file cabinets.”

“But he didn’t keep it with his legal and business papers,” Romeo said.

Jackson shook his head. “Apparently not. I knew if Charlotte brought it to the police that it was only a matter of time before they figured out my role in it. I had no choice but to find the will and silence her.”

“And did you find it?” Kit asked. There’d been no sign of the will in her house and Charlotte still couldn’t remember what she’d found.

“No. It was for nothing,” he said. “I tore the house apart but there was no will. Just a bunch of stupid photos and cards that he’d kept.”

“That was my house you tore apart,” Kit reminded him. “Thanks for the mess, by the way.”

“Why did you rule out the Williams boy?” Jackson directed the question at Romeo. “I assumed he’d stay hidden and implicate himself further.”

“He decided to step out of the shadows.” Kit folded her arms across her chest and gave him a smug look. “It seems his feelings for Charlotte were too overpowering. When he heard that she’d been hurt, he took the high road.”

Jackson rubbed his hands together. “I didn’t realize he’d developed genuine feelings for Charlotte. I clearly misjudged him.”

“Seems you misjudged a lot of people,” Romeo said. “Let’s hope the same doesn’t happen to you. I want the judge to see you for the murderer you really are.” He took out his handcuffs and gestured for Jackson to hold out his hands.

“Please,” Jackson begged. “I’ll go willingly. I don’t want the people of Westdale to see me in handcuffs. Tell that cousin of yours that I do not consent to being photographed.”

Kit couldn’t believe the guy was worried about showing up in the police blotter of the Westdale Gazette.

“A little late to worry about appearances, don’t you think?”

Charlotte surveyed the bedroom with a satisfied smile. As much as she appreciated the much-needed help of the hospital staff, Charlotte was relieved to be alone in a room again, even if she was cleaning. She’d dusted and polished every piece of furniture, hoping to erase all traces of recent events. Jackson had made quite the mess of Kit’s house and the police had dusted and swabbed their way through every room while she was still in the hospital. Now that classes were done for the day, Charlotte wanted to do her part in the cleanup process.

Her bedding was next on the list. She removed the bedspread and top sheet from the bed and flung them into the laundry basket. Then she stripped the bottom sheet from the bed, making an effort not to knock anything over in the process. She kept a safe distance from the lamp, the bedside table and the bench at the foot of the bed. When the last corner of the fitted sheet refused to come off, Charlotte didn’t trust herself to yank it. Instead, she walked around calmly and lifted the corner of the mattress in order to liberate the sheet. Something under the mattress caught her attention and she promptly released her grip on the sheet.

A document of some kind. She pulled the papers from their hiding place, dropping down the corner of the mattress.
John Tilton’s Last Will and Testament
. A rush of memories came flooding back.

“Rebecca,” she yelled. “Come quickly! I remember now.”

Rebecca appeared in the doorway. “Remember what?”

Charlotte waved the document in the air. “What I found. Daddy’s will. I was in here reading it when Jackson came in the house. At first, I thought it was you.” Her fingers flew absently to her head to touch the spot where he’d hit her.

“Do you remember what he used to hit you?” Rebecca asked.

Charlotte grimaced, remembering. “One of Kit’s blue hand weights. He must’ve grabbed it from downstairs.”

“Ouch.” Rebecca touched her own head, empathizing. No wonder Charlotte had fallen unconscious.

“When I heard a man’s voice in the hallway, I panicked and tucked the will under the mattress.” She reddened. “I hate to admit it, but I worried it might be Jake. That somehow he’d figured out that he wouldn’t inherit anything.”

“It wasn’t Jake, thank goodness.” Rebecca inhaled sharply and hurried to her sister’s side. “Shall we read it together?”

The sisters clasped hands as they read their father’s final decree. This version held no surprises. The house and the bulk of the estate were left to Rebecca and Charlotte.

“I can go back to medical school,” Rebecca said in disbelief. “I don’t need to apply for loans.”

“We can move back into Oak Lodge,” Charlotte said, her heart bursting with joy. “Won’t that be wonderful? I can put the books back in the library where they belong.”

“And Father’s blue box, too,” Rebecca added.

“We’ll need to get this to a lawyer.”

“Preferably one who isn’t a murderer,” Rebecca commented wryly.

Charlotte scanned the pages of the will. “Jasmine would’ve received a quarter of a million dollars.” She set down the document. “Do you think Jake will inherit that now?”

“I’m not sure,” Rebecca replied. She knew that amount of money wouldn’t be enough to impress the Farewells, even though it was more than he had to begin with.

“I guess we’ll need to ask our new non-murdering lawyer,” Charlotte remarked.

“So Brendan was right about everything,” Rebecca said softly, continuing to peruse the will.

“Brendan?” Charlotte gazed at her sister curiously. “I thought Jackson told the police about the will.”

“He did, but Brendan told us first, before he went to the police.”

Charlotte’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t understand. When did you speak to Brendan about Daddy’s will?”

Rebecca bit her lip, undecided whether to tell her little sister the truth about Brendan Williams. She didn’t want to dredge up any painful memories, especially now that Charlotte was well and truly on the mend.

Charlotte gripped her hand. “Rebecca Jane Tilton, if you know something, please tell me. I am not a fragile doll that needs protection. Whatever it is, I can take it.”

Rebecca realized that it was true. If the past few weeks had taught her anything, it was that Charlotte was an adult now, capable of handling her own affairs, and she didn’t require Rebecca’s long shadow anymore. Her days of nursing an ailing father and mothering a sibling were officially over.

Gently, she kissed Charlotte’s forehead. “You’re right, Lottie. And I have a story to tell you. I think you’ll like this one. It features a brave, intelligent heroine and an unlikely hero.”