A Crusty Murder (14 page)

As the intruder moved toward the bedroom, I stepped from the cove and reached for an antique lamp atop the end table. I loved the lamp, but my life meant more than any household item ever could. With the object raised above my head, I was about to follow the unsuspecting sot and bring the lamp down on their head. Aidan and BettyJo rushed into the shop and yelled for me. The commotion from below brought the creeper around, directly into my path.

Face to face with my supposed killer, I stood motionless. The flashlight glared straight into my eyes. I flung the lamp hard, putting all my strength into the motion. When it left my hands, I heard a
whoomph
, a thud, and the beam of light went awry.

The sound of feet pounded up the stairs and barely penetrated my rage-filled being. The lamp hadn’t broken. It had knocked my pursuer to the floor. The flashlight remained on, casting an eerie glow about the room as the light beamed off the walls and ceiling.

Across the room, I could hear a moan followed by cussing. I launched myself on my unwanted guest, pummeling the slender body with my fists and issuing swear words of my own. The next thing I knew, I’d been dragged to my feet. The room was filled with policemen.

“Lass, control yourself. Get it together. You can do it, come on,” I heard Aidan mutter in my ear. He continued to hold my arms clamped tight within his hands.

It wouldn’t have done any good to struggle against his strength. Instead, I rested against his chest, my breathing calmer than it had been, while the adrenaline rush subsided. BettyJo stepped up and gave me a hug as I pulled away from Aidan.

“I was so scared,” she mumbled. “We were desperate to save you.”

“Thanks, you two were great. The interruption you made came at the time I needed it most,” I assured her.

Cindy Peterson’s hands were cuffed behind her back. Accompanied by an officer, she turned to me and said, “You should have moved out, Melina. You had the chance again and again, but you were too stupid to listen.” Cindy glared at BettyJo, “That goes for you, too. Everyone else’s lease was up, but yours and Sondra’s. Bitches, the lot of you,” Cindy ranted. “Bitches,” she yelled on her way down the stairs.

Detective Graham, along with another detective by the name of Anderson Porter, and two patrolmen remained. I glanced at them and then looked around the room, now bathed in light. I hadn’t even been aware that somebody had turned the lights on.

“Melina, Detective Porter will be back to speak with you in the morning,” Jack stated. “You’ll be safe here tonight.”

Before I could answer, I heard Aidan’s voice, “She’ll be in good hands, Detective. I’ll stay and see she’s cared for.”

The two men took measure of one another and both nodded. It left me feeling like a prized cow. Would someone now pin the winning ribbon on my chest, please? What the hell?

“I’m capable of taking care of myself for the rest of the night. Thank you all, for coming to my aid.” I looked around the room at the various faces whose rapt attention was mine alone. Had I ripped my blouse? Was my hair askew, or my make-up smudged?

A smile hovered around his lips. Jack said he understood that shock might set in later, and I should have somebody close by should that happen. Right about then, I heard Seanmhair give somebody a tongue lashing.

“You’ll let me up those stairs, young man. That’s my granddaughter and she needs me. Step aside, I say.”

Seconds later, Seanmhair stepped into the room, her face a mix of worry and relief when she set eyes upon me. “Get your things. You’ll be coming home with me.” Seanmhair gave a round of looks to the others standing about and said, “You did fine work tonight. Now you can go back to whatever it is you usually do. I’ll take responsibility for Melina from here on in.”

A nod of acceptance rounded the room. The patrolmen glanced at the detectives, who nodded in turn. They left with a promise to return later in the day.

I checked my watch, nearly two in the morning. I wondered how Seanmhair had known of my plight. Without having to ask, she said, “Mr. Greenwich listens to his police scanner at night. Poor man leads a boring life. He knocked on my door when he heard there was a situation here. I figured I’d better come sort things out.” Her matter-of-factness brought a round of snickers, which broke the tension in the room.

Aidan grinned and said, “I had planned to stay, but, Seanmhair, you’re more likely to have a better effect on Melina at this point.”

“Melina can do without you sleeping in her apartment or in her bed, young man. Come back later. She’ll see you then,” Seanmhair assured him.

I’d been through a horrific time, and now my grandmother thought she knew what was best for me? I thought not.

“Seanmhair, I’m a grown-up. I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine. All of you,” I said softly, “go home. Come back later in the day.”

Reluctant to leave, the three of them straggled down the steps. I locked up behind them and stuck a chair beneath the door handle for good measure. I could see the handyman would need to replace my door with one of steel, just to keep intruders out.

Quiet surrounded me, cloaked me in softness and comfort. Alone at last, I wandered the two rooms of the shop, giving my full attention to what had happened, and how I would carry on. It was hard to fathom Cindy’s reason for wanting to get rid of me and BettyJo. The fact that she’d been so hysterical led me to believe her clock was too tightly wound. She needed psychiatric care. That’s when the entire incident landed on me like a brick wall.

Crying over issues wasn’t my forte. I was made of sturdier stuff than that. I sighed, cried, and sobbed. I stamped my feet and swore. My fury spent, I washed my face, stumbled up the steps and fell asleep sitting up on the sofa, watching the glorious moon’s glow through the window.

With a start, I awoke to bright daylight. My clothes were wrinkled, my mouth tasted nasty, and I needed a shower. What had startled me? I felt it again, the vibration of my phone where it nestled in my pocket.

The number belonged to BettyJo. I listened to her message. She’d knocked on the door, but I hadn’t answered, so she’d figured I was still asleep. A detective was at her shop she said, and I should come over.

My teeth clean and breath fresh, I applied deodorant before I slipped into sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I trotted over to BettyJo’s.

Detective Porter Anderson, who’d been present at my place along with the rest of his cohorts, stood looking around BettyJo’s shop. He picked up doodads, ornaments, and sniffed incense sticks propped everywhere around the shop. I smiled at his efforts to kill time and not pressure BettyJo by badgering her with questions she undoubtedly had no answers to.

“Detective, good to see you again,” I said and shook his hand. He was a handsome man, with steady green eyes and a charming smile. Another man married to his job. Too bad.

“We’ve interviewed Cindy Peterson and Kristina Papien,” Detective Anderson said. “They were behind both murders. They had big plans for this building and you two, Sondra Greenfield, and Cindy’s mother stood in their way.”

“Have a seat, Detective. I’ll make tea while you give us the details,” BettyJo instructed.

Anderson sat across from me at the tarot table. He glanced at the crystal ball’s soft glow, and lifted a handy black cloth, which he draped over the orb.

“Those things give me the jitters,” he admitted.

I grinned and settled back, liking this man a whole lot. We already had a commonality, the creepy orb. My grin turned into a chuckle and before I knew it, I was laughing out loud.

“What’s so funny?” BettyJo called from the small alcove where the microwave and beverages sat.

“Nothing, we’re just waiting for tea,” I fibbed with a wink at Anderson.

As we sipped the dark brew, Anderson told us they’d found evidence of the women’s plans and proof of their murdering ways. They’d even written confessions. These two women would soon be guests of the Rhode Island Women’s Detention Center. He went on to say Cindy’s idea was to start a haute couture business that would encompass the entire building from end to end. Mrs. Peterson disapproved of the idea. She was willing to give Cindy a small shop for a nominal rental fee. They’d argued about it quite often.

Anderson gazed at me and said, “She was going to give Cindy your shop, Miss Cameron. When Cindy couldn’t get her own way, she encouraged Kristina Papien to join forces with her, promising her a cut of the profits. It didn’t matter to either of them that they’d be cutting everyone else out of an already established livelihood. They set about planning the demise of those who refused to move out. In this case it was you, Sondra Greenfield, and,” he glanced at BettyJo, “also you, Miss Seever.”

“What about Kristina’s boyfriend?” I asked. “And didn’t Mrs. Peterson tell George about Cindy’s idea of using the entire building to suit herself?”

Anderson shrugged. “Apparently, neither man knew anything about what was taking place. I asked George if he was aware of what Cindy had in mind and he was surprised, so no, I don’t think he had any inkling at all.”

While he’d been speaking, I wondered where Detective Graham had gone off to, and why he wasn’t sharing this information with me. Unable to help myself, I asked, “Not that I mind you bringing us this news, but where is Jack, uh, Detective Graham?”

“He’s getting married today. I took over the investigation from him yesterday. Didn’t he tell you?” Anderson looked a bit uncomfortable.

“He didn’t say a word, but then, I had no need to know, I guess.” I shrugged. “Thanks for your help with these matters. Who’ll be taking over now that Cindy will be taking residence at the Big House?”

“The courts will decide who’ll handle the rentals and all that goes with Mrs. Peterson’s will. Until then, just put your rent money in an escrow account, so you won’t be caught short and forced to move out.” Anderson smiled. “I only know that from personal experience. My brother is a real estate lawyer and he goes on and on about this stuff. Boring, really.”

His humor tickled me. I grinned and chugged the last of my tea. I invited Anderson to take a class or stop by for bread when the shop was once again up and running. He said he would, wished us a good day, and was about to leave when I asked, “Didn’t Cindy plan to move to New York?”

Anderson looked down, then directly up at me. “She used that as a cover story to eliminate our suspicion of her. When Jack checked her whereabouts during the crimes, he found she’d lied about being in New York.”

“I was wondering about that. Thanks,” I said.

With a small wave, Anderson went back to what detectives did.

BettyJo turned on me and exclaimed, “Get the hell out of town. I can’t believe that Graham flirted with you the whole time he was investigating, and he had a fiancée in the wings. What an ass.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Now this Porter Anderson fellow, if he’s single, I might consider a date with him,” I said with a sly smile and a wink at BettyJo.

Laughter filled the room. When we’d calmed down, BettyJo asked, “So how do you plan to find out if he’s single?”

“There’s a gift shop not far from here, on South Main Street. Vinnie Esposito owns it. You may have seen her on the news or in the newspaper. I met Vinnie when I went to her store to buy a gift for Seanmhair’s birthday last month. We got to talking and she said she has lots of friends in the police department. I think I’ll ask her about Porter Anderson.”

BettyJo grinned. A knock on the door produced Aidan followed by Franklin Seever. The atmosphere in the room grew tense. The light pouring in through the windows seemed to have dimmed slightly.

“Lass,” Aidan murmured to me, “would you come outside?” He glanced meaningfully at BettyJo and her father.

With a nod and a hug for BettyJo, I followed Aidan. Father and daughter had issues to work out, issues I was better left out of.

Aidan leaned against the deck rail, basking in the sunshine. His beguiling smile wasn’t lost on me.

“I must return to Scotland. My business here is finished, and you’re now safe and sound. Would you care to join me for a week or so while reconstruction of your shop takes place? I’ve spoken to Seanmhair and she has agreed to go, if you will.”

I shook my head. “I can’t possibly leave now. The shop has to come first.”

“Nae, lass, the workers will have it right and new in no time. They’ve been told you’ll see them before you go. I’ve also set them in touch with your insurance company. We have a few days before I return to Scotland, which offers you time to sort your needs out. What’s your answer?”

How could I resist a request such as this from the man of my dreams? Was I crazy to run off to Scotland with him, dragging Seanmhair in tow? I’d only known Aidan for a brief time, although I felt we were old souls who’d known each other long ago.

I considered the thought and smiled at what BettyJo would have to say about old souls. She firmly believed in the idea. Who was I to question that?

“If Seanmhair is willing, then I’ll take you up on your offer,” I answered. “One thing, though, you truly aren’t married, are you?”

Aidan laughed and gently brushed his knuckles down my cheek. “No, lass, I’m not married.” He gave me a sweet smile and murmured, “Not yet, anyway.”

J.M. Griffin is a student of the human condition, wielding the written craft
to stimulate the imagination. Like an artist, J.M. uses blank pages to draw vivid characters. J.M. is also the author of the Lavinia (Vinnie) Esposito mystery series. Her other books include
For Love of Livvy
,
Dirty Trouble
,
Dead Wrong
,
Cold Moon Dead,
and the upcoming
Bake Sale Sleuth
. J.M. lives in rural Rhode Island, a colorful and interesting state.