Death By Chocolate 6 (Mystery and Women Sleuths) (Josiah Reynolds Mysteries) (18 page)

“What are you doing here?” asked Matt. “We should be getting home.”

“I thought I’d offer this flower wreath to the Falls,” I remarked.

“An age-old custom. Ancient people used to throw precious items in the water as offerings to the gods,” Matt said.

“No gods here,” I mused. “They must have left town.”

“It’s late. We should go,” cautioned Matt, anxiously glancing behind him. “Ginny’s already heading back with her pastor.”

“That was nice of him to come all the way down here and officiate at Dwight’s funeral.”

“We can talk about this in the car. Let’s go,” Matt urged.

“This is the part of the day that Kentuckians call the gloaming. Just a few minutes before twilight. Doesn’t the light look beautiful . . . Matt, what is it?”

Matt had uttered a cry. He looked at me in surprise and then bent over before crumpling on the sandstone rocks that encapsulated the river.

“MATT! MATT!” I fell to my knees and tugged at Matt until I turned him over.

Blood bubbled from his mouth.

My hands felt sticky. Looking down, I saw that they were covered in blood.

“HELP! HELP!” I screamed.

No one heard me. The rushing of the water over the Cumberland Falls drowned out my cries.

That’s when I saw him.

I saw O’nan coming towards me with a maniacal grin on his face. In his hand was a gun with a silencer.

Adrenaline can be a wonderful thing. I don’t even remember how quickly I got to my feet and started running . . . but running where?

O’nan was between me and safety.

I ran back toward the river and the Falls.

I hadn’t gone twelve feet before O’nan caught up with me. Grabbing the back of my coat collar, O’nan pulled me close to him so he could bring the gun up to my temple. “Did you miss me?” giggled O’nan into my ear.

I began twisting and flaying my arms, forcing O’nan to strike my head with his gun. It stunned me enough to stop resisting.

“Enough of that,” scolded O’nan. “I’m not going to shoot you. That’s too fast. I want you to experience fear until the very last nanosecond.” He began dragging me over the rock ledge toward the Cumberland River.

If he threw me into the river, there would be no way I would be able to resist the massive force of the water going over the Falls.

“STOP! LET ME GO!” I screamed, trying to pull away, but O’nan was too strong. I felt the water fill my shoes as he began dragging me into the rushing current. “NO. NO,” I begged.

O’nan laughed.

He was going to do it. O’nan was actually going to kill me.

The hell he would!

I rammed my elbow into his gut.

Gasping, O’nan released his hold just time enough for me to wrench away. Sloshing through the water, I tried to make my way back to shore, but the current was too strong. The water kept threatening to pull my feet out from underneath me.

Oh my God! I was going to go over the Cumberland Falls.

O’nan crashed into me from behind, causing me to fall facedown in the water. He pushed my face into the muck of the river bottom.

I felt for a loose rock and then flayed my arms trying to pull O’nan off, but I was using up my oxygen. I began to lose consciousness.

I was dying.

Then . . . inexplicably, O’nan lifted his hands.

Gagging and coughing up water, I rose, scrambling for the riverbank. Looking behind me, I saw O’nan on his knees in the water looking surprised, just like Matt had looked before he had fallen.

O’nan glanced at his chest and then at me.

The water was red for a second before the current washed the blood away.

Grabbing onto a boulder, I watched as O’nan tried to say something to me. Then he fell over and was caught in the current.

O’nan swirled in an eddy before the current picked him up and carried him away. He dipped and bobbed as the water rushed over boulders and then finally to the edge.

O’nan was silent as he went over the Cumberland Falls.

Goetz removed the scope and wiped down the rifle before placing it in a canvas bag. Stooping over, he picked up several heavy rocks, placing them in the bag also.

He knew Asa Reynolds would be suspected of being behind the shooting, but he couldn’t help that. Goetz hoped she had a good alibi.

Carefully he emerged from his hiding spot on a rock outcrop across the river.

Taking one last look, Goetz saw Josiah crawl out of the water, making her way to her friend, Matt.

A man who had been walking his dog ran toward her. He frantically dialed 911 on his cell phone.

Satisfied that Josiah was getting help, Goetz made his way back to his vehicle. He was sure no one had seen him. After tossing the bag into the trunk, he carefully drove away, leaving the car lights off.

Using the back roads, Goetz drove to Laurel River Lake. Finding a deserted spot near where the lake was the deepest, Goetz made an offering of the rifle.

The lake accepted it.

I looked up to see Goetz tapping on the observation window of the ICU room. Like a rusty machine that needed oil, I struggled out of my chair by Matt’s bed and went out into the hallway.

“How’s he doing?” asked Goetz.

I shrugged. “He’s still in a coma. It’s touch and go.”

“I see that he’s still on life support.”

“Yeah.”

“Come over and sit down. I want to tell you what has happened.” Goetz gave me a stern look. “Are you up to it? You’ve been here for three days. You look like hell.”

I smiled bitterly. “I can always count on you to make me feel better.”

Goetz helped me to a large waiting room. There were only a few people as it was after 1 am. We sat in a corner.

“You were right. Farley rolled over on Selena.”

I nodded.

“Apparently, they had been having an affair for some time. Somehow Dwight became suspicious. It was the reason that he wanted to leave the business. When Farley gave him guff about the selling price, Dwight decided to confront them both. The fishing trip was a ruse. Dwight waited to see if he could catch them together and he did . . . at his house.”

“That’s why he took Selena’s name off the insurance policy but he never told her,” I offered.

“Probably hadn’t had the opportunity to tell her.” Goetz glanced about to see if anyone was listening. “Anyway, apparently Dwight walked in on them in the dining room. There were accusations. Dwight was furious, so he threw a punch at Farley.”

“So Farley picked up the chocolate centerpiece and killed Dwight with it.”

Goetz shook his head. “This is where it gets screwy. Farley did hit Dwight with the chocolate, stunning him. But it was Selena who actually killed Dwight. She got a knife from the kitchen and stabbed Dwight to death.”

“Good God!” was all I could say.

“Now they have to hide the body, so Farley came up with the plan to make it look like Dwight had drowned in Laurel Lake.”

“But he really buried Dwight in the forest.”

“Right on.”

“What about the scorpion bite?”

“Farley was stung, but had antibiotics at home from a previous injury and just “manned-up” as they say. He didn’t get any medical help. Said the scorpion just about did him in, but he looked up scorpion bites on the Internet and did what the website recommended.

“What about the missing check for the two hundred grand?”

“Neither Selena nor Farley knew what Dwight did with the check.”

I was about to ask about the confusion of the location of Dwight’s wallet when I realized I didn’t give a damn anymore. It would probably come out in the trial. I could wait until then.

“Let me take you home, Josiah,” offered Goetz gently. “You’re not doing Matt any good by getting sick yourself. You can barely keep your eyes open.”

I just sat. I was numb.

“That’s it.” Goetz stood up. “Wait right here.” He came back a few minutes later with my coat and purse. “Let’s go,” he barked, pulling me to my feet. He wrapped the coat around my shoulders and put his arm around my waist, helping me to walk. “I’ll call the D.A. and ask them to put off your interview for awhile. You’re in no shape to talk to anyone until you get your head clear.”

“Is it really over?” I asked.

Goetz knew what I was talking about. “He is really dead, Josiah. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

Nothing else was said as we walked out of the hospital into the chilly night.

“My name is Josiah Reynolds. I used to be an art professor at the University of Kentucky. Now I make my living from honeybees, selling honey at a local farmers’ market.

“I live in the Butterfly, which sits on a cliff overlooking the Kentucky River. I am a widow.

“I have one child – Asa. She had worked for the Secret Service until she reported abuses within the department. Now she works as an independent contractor. Interpret that as you will.

“Did she assassinate O’nan? I don’t know and I’m never going to ask.

“The New Scotland Yard has already questioned Asa in London. Apparently she was in Rome at the time on an assignment. So unless my daughter can be in two places at one time, you can rule her out. I’m sure they have already reported to you, so why are you asking me?

“You can grill me with all the questions you want, but I’m not going to say one more word until my lawyer, Shaneika Mary Todd, arrives. I’ve learned how to deal with cops. I can’t believe that you are pestering me with questions right now.

“I’m just going to sit right here . . . and try to block out the fact that Kentucky is thirsty for the blood of her sons. She demands sacrifices, just like Chief Dragging Canoe had warned Daniel Boone.”

*

In the beautiful and seductive land of Caintuck, the past is never past and the thirst of the rich dark earth is never quenched.

Abigail Keam is an award-winning mystery writer of the Josiah Reynolds Mysteries. She is also an accomplished beekeeper and has won 16 honey awards from the Kentucky State Fair.

Death By A HoneyBee
, her first mystery novel, won a Gold Medal Award from Reader’s Favorite in 2010.

Death By Drowning
, her second novel, was listed on USA BOOK NEWS – “Best Books of 2011 Finalists.”

Ms. Keam also writes an Epic Fantasy series:
Saga of the de Magala Family.

She lives in a metal house overlooking the Kentucky River with her husband and several critters.

www.abigailkeam.com