Home Sweet Homicide: A Cozy Mystery (A Gemma Stone Murder Mystery Book 5) (16 page)

“That’s perfectly fine,” Peggy said with a tight little smile.

Everyone crowded into the room behind them.

“So, we have new hardwoods in here, stained to match the rest of the house,” Peggy went on. “The master bath is here and I’m sure you’ll agree that it feels like a spa in a high end hotel.”

“Nice,” Gemma said as she followed Peggy into the bathroom.

When they turned back into the bedroom, Gemma saw that Darren Gilmore had arrived wearing a bright blue shirt that practically glowed. Before Peggy could comment, Gemma asked. “Closets?”

Peggy hesitated only a moment and nodded toward the closed doors. “Of course, there’s a walk in closet that you’ve seen already.”

“Well, I didn’t really see it. I kind of got interrupted,” Gemma explained.

“Oh, well, it’s pretty big and has a built in closet organizer,” Peggy said, looking at the crowd in the bedroom.

Gemma walked to the closet doors and opened them wide. Reaching inside, she turned on the light to illuminate the whole space. The chalk circle on the floor below where Katie had hung glared at them from the floor of the closet right under the rod.

“I told them to clean that up,” Peggy said, her voice becoming shrill. She looked inside the closet but did not follow Gemma into the small space.

Gemma kept her eye on Peggy as she spoke. “Was there other stuff to clean up?”

“No,” Peggy said, shaking her head quickly back and forth. She looked around at each face in the crowd. “Nothing that I know of.”

At that moment, Essie burst into the room. A woman that big could no more enter a room without being noticed than fly to the moon. “Sorry, I’m late,” she said, sounding a little breathless. “I just saw your message Gemma and came right over.”

“Oh, you’re not too late,” Gemma began.

Everyone had turned to look at Essie and her gaze moved from face to face while she clutched the knob on the bedroom door.

“For what?” Essie finally asked.

“To hear the confession of your cousin’s killer,” Gemma said quietly, her gaze moving to Peggy.

“Who does she think she is, Agatha Christie?” Gilmore groaned.

Everyone else was quiet, looking at Peggy.

“What?” Peggy gasped. “You think I did it.”

Gemma nodded. “You hated Katie. She was your biggest rival, buying land out from under you. Selling the most houses. You lured her here somehow, strangled her to death and hung her in the closet.”

“You are crazy,” Peggy protested.

“Detective Gilmore, a witch was seen on the street before Katie was killed. This woman has a witch costume. Orange Paracord was used to hang Katie. Peggy’s logo and everything else, including the Paracord she uses to anchor her signs, is blaze orange. And in a few days, you’re going to find that we lifted her fingerprints off of that hand truck down in the garage.”

“No!” That was Essie, still clutching the door knob, looking around the room wildly as if seeking escape. “I did it. I killed them both.”

B
oth? Gemma paused, confused.

Before anyone could react to that news, Essie turned and bolted down the steps. Moving surprisingly quick for a woman her size, she was out the front door and racing across the street by the time Gemma and the others made it to the front door.

“My car is right here,” Gemma shouted and raced toward the Subaru, keys already in hand.

Ross, Nick, Holly and Gilmore were right behind her.

They all piled into the vehicle as Essie drove away in her husband’s white mini-cooper, tires screaming.

Gemma threw the Subaru into reverse to get out of the driveway. Nothing happened. The car remained right where it was tucked in behind Holly’s SUV.

“Come on,” Ross howled. “She’s getting away.”

Gemma tried again. Neutral, drive and then reverse. Nothing. They were trapped.

Gilmore groaned, slammed open the back door and jumped out. Ross, Nick, Holly and Gemma raced after him. Gemma knew he was headed for his own car. The bright blue Toyota was much too small for all of them, but Gemma wasn’t about to be left behind. She’d worked too hard for this moment.

The door was barely closed on Nick when Gilmore took off.

“You know this town better than me,” he confessed to Ross in the front seat. “Where would she go?”

Ross hesitated. Gemma could see the muscle twitching in his jaw as she wiggled to get a more comfortable seat between Holly and Nick. The air in the vehicle was stifling and there was simply no room for Gemma to fit. She ended up half on Holly’s lap, half on Nick’s.

“There,” Holly shouted, her nose plastered against the small back window. “I think I saw her car just turning onto two-fifty.

Gilmore followed and up ahead, Gemma saw a flash of white sliding smoothly under the street lights.

“Don’t lose sight of her,” Ross directed. “There’s an underpass up here. She can go three different directions after that.”

“She’s turning left,” Gemma shouted. “Downtown.”

“Lots of one way streets here,” Ross told Gilmore.

“Narrow streets,” Gilmore grunted but he stayed close behind Essie.

“Where could she be heading?” Holly asked, wiping the steam off of her window so she and Gemma could see out.

“The train station,” Nick said and suddenly scooted forward, throwing Gemma on top of Holly. “The old bridge.”

Car horns blared up ahead and Gemma knew Nick was right. Essie was running red lights to get there ahead of them.

“Here, cut down this side street,” Ross directed.

Gilmore followed Ross’s directions, through an empty parking lot and then down another narrow, winding street called The Wharf that backed up against the train station. They reached it just in time to see Essie slide to a stop at the bottom of the steps and jump out. Gilmore parked under the bridge just beside the railroad tracks and they all jumped out.

Gemma caught sight of Essie halfway up the steps leading to the old bridge that had been there forever. The bridge spanned the railroad tracks and the loading area at the train station and connected the town with residences on Penny’s hill. It was dangerous and due to be replaced soon, but Essie didn’t seem to be worrying about that now.

Ignoring their shouts, Gemma raced up the steps behind Essie, taking them two at a time. One of the steps near the top broke under Essie’s weight but she pulled herself free and continued to run. Gemma leaped over that step and landed on her knees on the old, splintered wood of the bridge. It had been years since she’d been up here and she was surprised at how it had deteriorated.

Looking up, Gemma saw that Essie had stopped and she knew what Essie had planned all along. She was going to jump onto the concrete below. She already had both hands wrapped around the top of the rusted metal railing, one foot on the bottom.

“No!” Gemma screamed, scrambling to her feet. “No, Essie!”

Essie turned to face her, terror filling her eyes. The wind had picked up blowing Essie’s hair wildly around her head. It was just beginning to rain.

“Essie, please, don’t do this,” Gemma said, trying to make her voice calm even though she was terrified. “We can get help.”

“She took everything,” Essie shouted back. “She took Arnold.”

Why was Essie talking about her husband? “Who took Arnold?” Gemma asked, daring to inch closer.

“It doesn’t matter,” Essie shouted back. “Nothing matters now.”

And that’s when with a warped screeching, cracking sound the old boards collapsed under Essie’s weight and she simply disappeared from sight. There was a shriek and a sickening crunch of metal and flesh and then someone shouting.

Strong hands around Gemma’s waist lifted Gemma off the ground just as the boards she stood on began to vibrate and crack.

“Let’s get off this bridge before the whole thing goes,” Ross shouted in her ear.

Holding hands, she and Ross ran, ran through the darkness and the wind and now pouring rain. Gemma slipped and slid and tried to keep up with Ross’s long strides as best she could. Finally they made it down the steps to the concrete below and Gemma ran straight to where Essie had fallen.

Someone had already called 911, she could hear the sirens but all she could really see was Essie struggling to crawl out of the wreck that she’d made of Gilmore’s blue jewel. The hood was completely caved in, the windshield shattered.

“My car,” Gilmore groaned. “My car.”

“Essie,” Gemma could see nothing but the sobbing, broken woman lying across the car, half inside, half out.

Flashing red and blue lights filled the area, along with what seemed like a hundred people. Gemma was pushed out of the way as paramedics took over. She huddled against Ross, watching them lift Essie with ease off the wrecked car and gently place her on a stretcher. Essie was crying softly.

“I want to go to the hospital,” Gemma told Ross.

“Okay,” he said, suddenly in command of his police force again right where he belonged. “Can you take us to the hospital?”

“Yes, sir,” the young officer said, all but saluting Ross.

Gemma glanced back at Holly and Nick.

“Don’t worry about us,” Holly said. “Mitch is already here to pick us up.”

“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Gemma promised.

“You’d better,” Nick said.

“Them,” Gemma said just before she began shaking uncontrollably. “She said she killed them both.”

“Hopefully, she’ll be able to tell us more when we get to the hospital,” Ross whispered, pulling her trembling body close against him.

They wouldn’t let Gemma see Essie right away so she and Ross waited. He paced, she sat. She paced. He sat.

Finally, a young, very tired looking doctor approached them. “Detective,” he said and nodded at Ross.

“Hugh. How are you?” Ross said, offering his hand.

The men shook and the doctor’s gaze moved to Gemma. “You’re Miss Stone?”

“Yes,” Gemma said. “Is Essie going to be okay?”

He smiled. “Yes. Scrapes, cuts, bruises but no breaks. She’s been asking for you.”

“I can see her now?”

“Yes,” he said, leading them toward a small, curtained off area filled with machines.

Essie looked pale and one eye was already starting to turn purple. She didn’t look at Gemma right away but when she did there were tears in her eyes.

“Essie, honey, it’s going to be okay,” Gemma assured her, knowing full well that nothing in Essie’s life was ever going to be the okay again.

G
emma and Ross listened to Essie’s confession, both women crying quietly by the time it was over.

“We need to get you home,” Ross told Gemma when they left Essie behind, still sobbing. “I’ve called Nick. He should be here any minute.”

“Poor Essie,” Gemma whispered, exhaustion seeping into her very bones. “Poor Essie.”

Nick stopped in mid-stride when Gemma and Ross appeared in the lobby. It was obvious that he had a million questions but he didn’t push. For that, Gemma was thankful.

“If you’ll just get me home,” Gemma told him. “I’ll give you the whole story tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Nick said.

Finally at home, Gemma was exhausted. Her aunt was waiting with the offer of coffee or tea but both Nick and Ross declined. When the two men left, Gemma’s aunt sat down across from her and held her hands tight.

“I tried to help,” she finally said.

“Help?”

Aunt Maisy nodded. “Remember when I told you I had a talk with Rosie?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gemma said, wondering why she was talking about the car after everything else had happened.

“I sort of cast a little spell on her. Just a small one so she would always do your bidding. Always go into drive for you,” Maisy explained.

“But now, she won’t go into reverse,” Gemma finished, laughing in spite of herself.

“And in that bedroom, I cast a spell of remorse so Peggy would confess and this whole thing would be solved.”

“Well, that spell worked,” Gemma said to her aunt. “Because the real killer did confess tonight at the hospital.”

“I have a confession to make as well,” Aunt Maisy said. “I was the witch they saw outside that house the morning of the murder.”

“You?”

“Yes, I was looking for you and I got on the wrong ‘Elm’ street.”

“Well, that explains that,” Gemma said. “I’m glad you found me.”

“I’m glad I found you, too.”

“Can you wait till tomorrow to hear the whole story?” Gemma asked. “I promised Nick...”

“I can wait,” Maisy said. “Now, you need to get some rest.”

Gemma showered and fell into a fitful, restless sleep, only to wake up several times during the night with a jolt thinking she was about to fall off of the old train station bridge.

Morning came much too early.

As usual, the smell of brewing coffee drew her downstairs. Gemma felt as if she had run all night, tired and achy all over. She had just sat down at the table to a steaming cup when someone knocked on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Maisy said.

Nick was at the door, smiling apologetically. “I tried to call first but when you didn’t answer, I decided to come on over,” he explained.

“That’s fine,” Gemma said, smiling at her long-time friend. “I know you’re anxious to file the story.”

“I already filed one for today just from what I’ve heard. I wanted to get the real story from you,” he told her.

“Did they find his body?” Gemma asked quietly.

Nick nodded. “Right where she told them she buried it.”

Gemma covered he face with both hands and took a deep breath. “How sad.”

“Katie always had to be the winner,” Nick said, taking a seat at the table.

“And it cost her her life,” Aunt Maisy said, joining them at the table.

Gemma spoke to Maisy. “And for some reason, she really had it in for Essie. If there was one spot left on the cheerleading squad and she decided she wanted to be a cheerleader at the last minute, her mom made sure she got it. And she only wanted it because she thought Essie did. If Essie joined the debate team or the chess club or the French club, Katie became the president of that club. She didn’t go into real estate until she thought that was what Essie had planned to do.”