Divas and Dead Rebels (37 page)

All I could think to say was, “If she left something for me, I haven’t found it.”

Nodding, Bitty said, “Well, we’ll find it, sugar.”

“I hope when you say ‘we’ you’re talking about you and Chitling, because I have no intention of getting any more involved than I already am,” I said firmly. “This is it for me. Some madman or crazed killer is trying to kill me, and I don’t even know anything. I can’t imagine what would happen if I did.”

“Don’t be silly, Trinket. Once we find out who it is, you can tell the police, and then they’ll arrest the murderer and it will all be over.”

I looked at her. “Do you really believe that?”

She blinked at me a few times. “Don’t you?”

“No. Well, not necessarily. Sometimes the police show up a little late. I hate being bruised. Especially when someone is trying to kill me.”

“Well,” said Bitty a bit crossly, “this would be a lot easier if we just knew what it was Catherine wanted to tell you.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “It would definitely be a lot easier. I wish she’d had time to tell me what kind of information she had, or where to find it.”

“It’s just like Cat to get herself murdered before she told you who she thinks killed her son.”

“Oh, she already told me that. Breck Hartford.”

“But you don’t believe her.”

“Well, it’s not that I don’t believe her, it’s just that I don’t know why he would kill her son and make it look like suicide. It doesn’t make any sense. Then Sturgis—and it was all supposed to be over an accidental death?” I shook my head. “It’s too crazy sounding to be real.”

“If Emily killed Sturgis, it’s possible she had a reason to kill Monty.”

“I don’t think Emily killed her husband.”

“Well for heaven’s sake, why not?” Bitty sounded exasperated. “Maybe she was having an affair with Monty, and Spencer found out about it, so she killed him.”

“Killed Monty, or killed Spencer?”

Bitty started to wave her hands in the air in agitation, but Chitling began to bark, and the police gave us strange glances, so she stopped and whispered, “Both of them, for all we know. Just think about it, Trinket. What other reason would there be to kill them both? Maybe the professor killed Monty, so she killed him . . . you know, a revenge motive.”

I rolled my eyes. “Somehow I can’t see Emily Sturgis with Monty Moore. He was a kid. What, twenty or twenty-one? She doesn’t seem the type.”

Bitty blew out a sigh. “That’s true. It seems more like Cat’s style than Emily’s. I give up then. I guess we won’t ever know what it was Cat meant to tell you.”

“Looks like,” I agreed. “Ah, here comes your knight in shining armor now. I was wondering what was keeping him.”

A silver Jaguar swept into the driveway behind a police cruiser and stopped on a dime. Jackson Lee stepped out, once more half in pajamas, half in sweats, come to his fair damsel’s rescue. Bitty patted her hair, shifted Chen Ling to her other arm, and put on a big ole smile to greet her frantic beau.

“This is getting to be old,” said Jackson Lee when he reached the porch, and his worried gaze went straight to Bitty. His dark hair flecked with gray, normally combed in a neat style, stuck up all over his head. When he raked his hand through it, the reason for that was pretty obvious. “Sugar, I can’t stand you being in danger all the time. You go get some clothes. You’re going to come stay with me for a little while. At least until all this is over. I insist on it, Bitty. Go upstairs and get packed.”

I couldn’t help it. I lifted an eyebrow and looked over at Bitty. The smile was still on her face, but I could see that he’d surprised her. This should be interesting. Bitty is always open to cajolery, pleading, especially to bribes, but a demand? I wasn’t at all sure how she’d take that, even from Jackson Lee.

“Why, Jackson Lee,” she drawled after a moment, “Trinket and I are just fine right here. It’s sweet of you to worry, but I don’t think we need to be going anywhere.”

I looked back at Jackson Lee. He seemed to realize his error, and being the practiced lawyer that he is, he immediately switched tactics. “Of course, sugar plum, you can stay here if you feel safe, but I’m just so worried about you.”

I tilted my attention back to Bitty. She wore the same sweet smile. “Honey, you don’t need to worry about me. I’ve got Trinket and Chen Ling for protection.”

Wait a minute—isn’t it me who needs protecting?
I thought but didn’t say aloud. I looked back at Jackson Lee to see his next move. He didn’t disappoint.

“And nice protection they are, sweet-ums, but I can hardly let you out of my sight when I know you’re just fine, so you’ll just have to humor me when I worry about you with some homicidal idiot running around and breaking in to your house.” He paused to take a breath, then added, “Why, I’d just go crazy if even one hair on your head was harmed, you know I would.”

Some of Bitty’s tension eased, and she reached up to pat him on his cheek. If he hadn’t already been hovering over her like a cloud, she would have had to move closer. He put his hand over hers and smiled so happily I felt like a third thumb and fifth wheel. Good thing we weren’t alone, or he might have just swept her up in his arms and stormed up the inside staircase à la Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara.

As it was, I could see him struggle to find something ordinary to say to break the awkward moment. Finally he took a step back, dropped his hand, and seemed to recall he and Bitty weren’t alone on some mountaintop. His gaze flicked to me, and he gave a start, then recovered.

“Oh, er, Trinket . . . I have something of yours in the car. I ran into one of the Potts Camp officers in court today, and he said there was something of yours in the evidence room.”

“Something of mine? Potts Camp?” I couldn’t make a connection for a minute. “I don’t know why he’d have something of mine.”

“It’s in a plastic case, and it has your name on it. A DVD of some kind. A movie you must have loaned Catherine Moore.”

“A movie?” I was mystified.

“Yes, they had to check it out, you know, just to be sure it was what it said on the cover, but it’s just a movie. He thought you might want it back.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but maybe I’d remember once I saw it. Although I was sure I hadn’t loaned Catherine any movies, maybe there was a reason she thought it belonged to me.

But even after Jackson Lee went to his car and came back with the movie, I had no clue why Catherine had thought it might belong to me. I’d never heard of it.

“
Dead at Seventeen
,” I read the title aloud, hoping a memory would pop up to provide me with a clue. Nope. Not a thing, even after I said it a few times and ran it past Bitty, who was once more holding court in the parlor since the police had finished and left at last. It had to be three in the morning, and I sat there on Bitty’s overstuffed chair staring at the movie, the actors’ names, and the cover as if it would provide an answer.

“Have you ever seen this?” I asked Bitty. Jackson Lee sat beside her in the huge chair, much to Chen Ling’s dissatisfaction. The dog eyed him warily. He ignored her.

“It’s not yours?” Jackson Lee asked, although I could tell he was less than interested in my reply or my puzzlement.

“No. I never heard of it.”

“Well, since it’s obvious we’re not going to get any more sleep tonight, put it in the player,” said Bitty. She stifled a yawn. “Maybe you’ll remember it after you see some of it.”

“I’m quite sure Catherine and I never even discussed movies, much less swapped a couple,” I muttered even though no one was listening. Jackson Lee was cuddled up next to Bitty and completely oblivious to anything or anyone else. Bitty was accepting his adoration as her just due, and Chen Ling seemed in danger of falling asleep at last. Her bug eyes were at half-mast.

It took me a few minutes to figure out how to work Bitty’s state-of-the-art DVD system, only to learn that it was a Blu-Ray and incompatible with the HD movie in my hand. So I ended up going up to my guest bedroom and popping the movie into the DVD player set inside an antique armoire. I crawled up onto the high bed, crossed my legs, and hit the Play button on the remote.

Forty-eight minutes into the movie, I knew why Catherine Moore had put my name on the plastic case. And I knew what had happened to Monty, and who had most likely killed Spencer Sturgis as well as Catherine . . .

Chapter 19

“What are your plans?” Bitty asked me for what must have been the sixth time since we’d left her house. “I thought you weren’t going to get involved in investigating the murders anymore. And why couldn’t we use my car?”

“Because we don’t want to advertise our arrival,” I replied without looking at her. “It’s right here, Rayna. Park just beyond that driveway.”

It had been two days since I’d watched the video Catherine left for me. We were now on a mission. Since our mission involved secrecy, I had involved Rayna and her car. Actually, I’d had quite a discussion with her about us getting as involved as we were, and so we’d come up with a plan. Our plan branched out to include Bitty and Gaynelle, Bitty only because she threw a fit when she found out where we were going.

Gaynelle sat in the front passenger seat, while Bitty and I occupied the back of the SUV. Even though it had been decided there was a lot more safety in numbers, I resisted endangering others until Rayna pointed out it’d be best to have more witnesses.

Gaynelle looked over at Rayna. “What’d Rob have to say about you doing this?’

“Oh, nothing.” There was a moment of disbelieving silence before she added, “I didn’t tell him.”

“A wise decision.” Gaynelle nodded approval. “Now you’ll only have to listen to him once instead of twice.”

“True.”

We all knew there was no doubt Rob Rainey would be livid when he learned about our jaunt down to Oxford. But we also knew there are times it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. Not that Rayna would have asked permission, but she would have normally at least informed him of her intention.

I leaned forward to say, “If it works out like we hope, Rob may not be able to say anything but, ‘Good job.’”

“Oh, Trinket,” said Bitty, “when have our investigations ever worked out like we hope? It always gets screwed up somehow.”

“Don’t jinx us, Bitty,” begged Rayna, while Gaynelle just laughed. I managed a weak smile and indignant glance at my cousin, who was still pouting because we had left behind her furry mutant accessory. I cleared my throat meaningfully.

“That’s okay. By the end of the day, we should know what happened and who all was involved. But right now, my main idea is to confront Breck Hartford.”

Bitty looked out the window then back at me. “I hate to tell you this, Sherlock, but if you want to talk to Breck Hartford, you’re at the wrong house.”

“Yes, I know that, Bitty. He’s not the only suspect, you know.”

She brightened. “Really? You’re finally agreeing with me that Emily killed him?”

“No. I’m here on a fishing expedition.”

I left Bitty to mull that over and turned to Rayna. “We have a pretty good idea of what happened, and the info you got helped out a lot. Now that we’re here, maybe we can figure out what’s missing and fill in the blanks.”

Rayna nodded. “The ball is in your court.”

Bitty sniffed audibly. “That’s a silly cliché. Having a ball in your court just means you have to bat it somewhere else.”

“Exactly.” I smiled. “So, let the game begin.”

“Just how many players are allowed in this game?” asked Bitty. “If you know things I don’t, you need to share. What info did Rayna get that I don’t know?”

“It’s better you don’t know. Not yet. I need it confirmed or disproven. You have a way of blurting out things best left unsaid. Ladies? Shall we begin?”

With Bitty grumbling a bit, and Rayna and Gaynelle as back-up, I got out of the car and headed for the Sturgis front door. A brisk wind blew dead leaves across the flagstones of the walkway. With only a little trepidation, I rang the bell.

“She’s probably out celebrating her freedom,” Bitty remarked rather cattily when no one came to the door after my second push on the bell. “I would be.”

“There’s a wide gulf between being a divorcee and a widow,” said Gaynelle. “I think it might be difficult to celebrate the passing of a husband, so we should be cautious about stepping on her toes.”

Bitty rolled her eyes. “It won’t be so difficult if Emily’s the one who helped him on his way, you know, Gaynelle. I still say she’s the one who—”

“Hush,” I hissed at Bitty. “I think I hear her footsteps.”

Just as Bitty opened her mouth to say something probably bitchy, the front door swung open. I managed to say, “Hi, Emily, I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m sure you remember Bitty and Gaynelle? And this is our friend Rayna Blue.”

To say that Emily Sturgis was less than pleased to see us was an understatement. I flashed my best
“Don’t want to bother you, but”
smile, and she still didn’t move from the open doorway to invite us in.

“I’m leaving for the airport in a few minutes,” she said coolly. “Spencer’s body is finally being shipped home for burial.”