CELEBRITY STATUS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #4) (32 page)

            “Okay.” Manny headed for the house.

            Once he was out of earshot, Rose started chanting under her breath, “Free, free, dear Lord, we’re free at last.”

            “Try not to break out in a happy dance ’til we’re ’round the corner, partner,” Skip drawled quietly, a big grin spreading across his face.

            Rose didn’t do a happy dance with her feet, but when she got in her car, she did let her fingers do one on the steering wheel before she started the engine. They were working on day three, and Skip
still
hadn’t noticed her ring. Oh, man, she was going to have so much fun razzing him. Her mentor, the man who taught her how to be a detective, and he couldn’t even detect what was right under his nose.

            She was grinning from ear to ear as she headed back to her insurance fraud surveillance. Way her day was going so far, ole Willie would probably be roller-skating on the sidewalk when she got there.

* * *

            Ben arrived promptly at eleven-thirty. When Kate took one look at him–red nose, watery eyes, drooping shoulders–she tried to send him home.

            “No way, Kate,” he said. “I like my job. Skip would skin me alive, and
then
he’d fire me.”

            Kate smiled at him. “My husband does tend to be a bit over-protective sometimes.” She made a mental note to call Skip, once she was at Mac’s Place and out of Ben’s earshot, and insist he let the poor man go home and rest. After all, there hadn’t been any paparazzi hanging around this week.

            “Have a seat. I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes.”

            Ben gratefully sank down on the armchair that divided the sitting area in the living room from the kids’ play area. It gave him a clear view of the door and front window. He was half asleep when the doorbell rang.

            Kate came around the corner behind him as Ben was peering through the peephole. He unlocked and opened the door. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

            Kate heard a woman’s voice, but she couldn’t see past Ben’s bulk. “Another letter came this morning. Skip wanted me to drop it off. Uh, can I trouble you for the use of a bathroom? And a glass of water? It’s a long drive from Howard County.”

            Kate glanced at her watch. They still had a few minutes before they had to leave to meet Rob. She hid her annoyance.
Why would Skip have the letter brought to the house?

            Ben stepped back to let the woman walk past him.

            “Of course,” Kate said, trying to sound gracious. She pointed down the hall. “Bathroom is down there. I’ll get you some water.”

            As she headed for the kitchen, Ben sank back into the armchair.

            The visitor put a friendly hand on his shoulder as she walked past him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

            Rob was heading out of his office to meet Kate for lunch when Fran flagged him. She pointed to the blinking light on her phone console. “It’s Mr. Hastings,” she informed him. “Says it’s urgent.”

            Rob groaned. Too important a client to ignore. The problem was Bartholomew T. Hastings, the fourth, knew he was important, and he rarely let others forget it for very long.

            Rob stood beside Fran’s desk and lifted the receiver of her phone as she punched the blinking button. “Hi, Bart, what’s up?” he said, in as cheerful a voice as he could muster.

            “Damn lawsuit, that’s what’s up. Just got served. The Light Street warehouse. Kids broke in, had a party, one of them fell down the stairs, and now somehow that’s my fault.”

            “Fax the papers over to Fran and I’ll take a look at them this afternoon. Doesn’t sound like they’ve got much of a case.”

            “I need you over here now. Gotta get this resolved. That property’s for sale and I’ve got a potential buyer lined up. This suit could screw things up royally.”

            Rob tried not to sigh into the phone. He thought about arguing that a few hours would not make or break the property deal. Might as well save his breath with this client.

            “Where are you?” he asked. Bart, the fourth, had three residences scattered around the region.

            “At the country house. Half an hour.”

           
Just great
, Rob thought.
All the way up in the northern part of the county.
“It’ll take me at least forty-five minutes,” he said, then realized he was talking to himself. Bart, the fourth, had disconnected.

            On his way to his car, he called Kate’s office. Her answering machine picked up right away. She must still be in session. “Hate to do this to you but I’ve got an emergency meeting with a very annoying but also very important client, so I can’t make lunch. Hope you get this before you leave your office.”

            He called her cell phone. After four rings it went to voicemail. “Hey, Kate. I’d hoped to catch you before you left the office. Got an emergency meeting and I won’t be able to make it for lunch. Give me a call and maybe we can make something happen on Friday.”

            Once in the car, Rob decided to call her office again, just in case she didn’t check her messages before she left to meet him.

            He tried to remember which sequence of buttons he needed to push to activate his new hands-free car phone. Liz had programmed it for him, but he could never remember which button was which, and they were labeled with obscure symbols rather than words. Finally he heard a dial tone coming from the speaker. As he started his car, he was trying to recall which number was the speed dial number for Kate’s office on the car phone. It was five on his cell. Pulling out of the parking lot, he hit the five button.

            “Jimmy’s Auto Shop,” a disembodied voice said.

            “Sorry, Jimmy, pushed the wrong speed dial number,” Rob said.

           
Okay, which buttons to push to disconnect, then get a dial tone again? There, that was it. And this was supposed to be less distracting while you were driving than just using your cell phone?

            Of course, for most people it probably was, but for some reason technology stymied him. And by the time he figured out the latest new way to do things, it had all changed again.

           
Six? Was that the one for Kate’s office?
He hit the six button.

            “Hi, you have reached the psychotherapy office of Kate Huntington. I am not available at the moment to take your call. Please leave a message after...” Rob zoned out until he heard the beep. “Hey, Kate. I’d hoped to catch you before you left. Are you there? Maybe standing next to that antiquated answering machine of yours to see who it is before you pick up.” He was half expecting her to answer and razz him, the technophobe, for calling
her
answering machine antiquated. When she didn’t, he added, “Guess you’re already gone then. I’ll try your cell again.”

            He got voicemail again. That was weird. If she’d left the office she should be answering her cell phone.

            As Rob drove, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Kate should be answering her phone somewhere. There was a virus going around. Maybe one of the kids was sick and she had stayed home this morning. He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t quite noon. Might as well try there on the off chance. Although if she was tied up with a sick child, she probably would have called him by now.

            He punched the buttons to get a dial tone.
Hey, today might be the day I do this enough times in a row to actually memorize how it’s supposed to be done.
He hit seven, hoping that was the right number for Kate’s house. The phone rang six times and went to voicemail. He left a message.

           
Might as well try her cell again. Better than thinking about how pissed I am at Bart, the fourth.
He went through the sequence again. Rang four times and went to voicemail.

            At the next traffic light, Rob struggled to get his cell phone out of his pocket. He checked to see if he had a message from her. Nope.

            He glanced at his watch. Only two minutes after noon. She wouldn’t necessarily be calling to see where he was. He wasn’t that late yet.
But why isn’t she answering her cell phone? Or some phone somewhere?

            He was starting to get a bad feeling about this and he couldn’t quite figure out why. He tried to talk himself out of the bad feeling. Bart, the fourth, was going to be royally pissed if he didn’t get there soon. He was just being paranoid. He’d been a bit spooked about her safety ever since he’d heard about the van being sabotaged. She and the kids could have all too easily been killed.

            Okay, that probably wasn’t the best thing to be thinking about. The bad feeling was now worse. What was it Kate had said one time about gut feelings? Trust them until you have more information, one way or the other.

            Rob pulled over onto the shoulder. He called Mac’s Place. The new manager answered. He came back after a couple minutes and said, no, there was no Kate Huntington in the restaurant.

           
Ben! He’s chauffeuring her around these days. Do I have his number?
Rob scrolled through his contacts in his cell phone until he came to Ben Johnson. He pushed the send button.

            Rang four times and went to voicemail.

            Rob didn’t bother to leave a message. He just disconnected, dropping his cell on the passenger seat as he made a U-turn.
Bart, the fourth, be damned!

* * *

            Rob turned onto Kate’s street. His bad feeling escalated another notch when he saw her Prius parked in front of the house.
If she’s there, why isn’t she answering her phone?
The dark sedan behind Kate’s car he thought belonged to Ben. But the red minivan wasn’t there.

            As he hurried up the sidewalk and onto the porch, Rob tried to reassure himself that they must have all gone somewhere in the van and Maria was going to drop Kate off at Mac’s Place for lunch. They were just running late.

           
And cell phones don’t always ring when they’re supposed to
, he told himself.
Maybe hers is malfunctioning and sending calls to voicemail without ringing.

            Rob started to knock on the front door, but the first contact of knuckles against wood pushed the door open. It hadn’t been latched. He looked down at the doorknob. It was smeared with a bright red substance.

            Fear clamped around his heart. He shoved the door open and rushed into the living room, then froze. Ben Johnson was sitting in an armchair, facing him. His head was flopped down on his chest, as if he were asleep. But his black beard was wet and rust colored. The front of his white shirt bore a spreading red stain.

            Rob fought down nausea and fear as he took out his cell and dialed 911. He saw there were drops of blood on the floor, going around the corner toward the kitchen and the hallway to the master bedroom.

            The 911 operator was talking in his ear but his mind could not process her words, and fear had closed his throat. One lucid part of his mind reminded him that this was a crime scene. Trying not to step in the blood, he edged cautiously around the corner and looked in the kitchen.

            His heart stopped. Kate was lying in a pool of blood, her back to him. A knife was protruding from her shoulder.

            “Ambulance, fast. Two people knifed. 2610 Linden Lane,” he croaked into the phone as he raced across the room.

            Falling to his knees beside her, Rob felt Kate’s neck. Her skin was clammy. Relief washed through him when he found a pulse, weak but there.

            The 911 operator was still talking in his ear, demanding his name. “What the hell does that matter,” he screamed at her. “My friend has a knife in her. Send the ambulance. Now!”

            “
Don’t
pull the knife out, sir,” the operator said. Which was exactly what he was about to do. “Ambulance and police are on the way. Is the assailant still on the premises?”

            “Uh, I don’t know. I don’t think so. She’s bleeding. What should I do?”

            “How much is she bleeding?” The woman’s voice was firm but calm.

            “Not much now. It’s just oozing around the knife. There’s a lot of blood on the floor. She has a pulse but it’s weak.”

            “What about the other victim, sir?”

            “I haven’t checked, but I think he’s dead.” Tears blurred Rob’s vision. He swiped his jacket sleeve across his face. “Should I check him? I didn’t want to disturb a crime scene.”

            “No, sir. Go outside and watch for the ambulance. They should be there any second now.”

            “I can’t
leave
her,” Rob cried into the phone.

            “Do it, sir. It’s the best way to get her help quickly. Stay on the line with me, until the paramedics or police get there.”

            Rob scrambled up off his knees and staggered backward a few steps, then turned and ran for the front door, the sirens in the distance finally registering in his mind. By the time he was on the porch, the ambulance was turning onto Linden Lane. He raced down to the street and waved frantically.

            Rob and the female paramedic were back inside the house in less than twenty seconds. The young woman’s partner was pulling equipment out of the side compartment of the ambulance.

            She headed for Ben, but Rob grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the kitchen. “Take care of her. I think he’s dead.”

            When the other paramedic joined his partner thirty seconds later, he concurred. “Guy’s throat’s been slit.” Rob’s knees gave out and he sat down hard on the floor several feet from where they were now working on Kate.

            The young woman’s fingers deftly inserted an IV needle in Kate’s arm while her partner packed bandages tightly around the knife to keep it from moving and to stop the bleeding. “Get the gurney,” the woman told her partner.