Murder Takes a Dare: The First Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 1) (24 page)

Tara wrenched away. “Marisa, you just don’t understand!”

The door slammed. Her friend was gone.

Alex stared thoughtfully at the door. “She was terribly upset.”

“I had no idea this was hitting her so hard. I know she has had issues with Payton, but I didn’t think she’d be so angry and out for blood over them—”

The strident ring of the doorbell filled the house, followed by urgent banging on the front door. “What the hell?” Marisa and Alex stared at each other.

“Lieutenant Camden, Ms. Adair. Open up. Police business.”

One hand flying to her heart, Marisa threw open the door.

“Ms. Adair.” The lawman’s head turned sharply in surprise. His eyes widened at Marisa’s mussed hair, and the muscular man in shorts and bare feet.

“I must not be as good a detective as I thought.” In surprise, he eyed the other man, noting the protective stance of the body ranged next to Marisa. “You and Russell Meeks have been running around and questioning people...I thought...”

“Lieutenant.” Alex glanced at Marisa. “I think we should tell you everything.”

Marisa moved abruptly. “Everything, Alex?” Her voice rose in question.

“Everything,” replied Alex firmly. “Come and sit down, Lieutenant. We’ll tell you everything we know.”

Camden raised his hand. “First, let me tell you why I’m here.” The lieutenant told them about Renee Walker and the fire which had been started. “She’s lucky she wasn’t killed. The fire alarm was tripped…the fire alarm right outside Jonah Graham’s apartment, which is near Zoe’s apartment. And the 911 call came from Jonah’s apartment.”

“You’re saying the person who set the fire also pulled the alarm and called the police?” Marisa shook her head.

“Exactly!” exclaimed Camden. “Why would a cold-blooded killer pull the alarm, call the police, and pull Zoe’s mother to safety? Why would he—or she—do all of that to prevent anyone getting hurt?”

“Because,” answered Alex slowly, “it’s not the killer.”

“Not the killer!” cried Marisa. “But that doesn’t make any sense!”

“It’s the only theory that does make sense. The killer doesn’t care who is eliminated, so long as anyone who threatens him is put out of the way. It sounds like the unknown person who started the fire took great care to ensure no one was hurt. Therefore, the killer and the person who set fire to Jonah’s apartment are two different people.”

“Two people,” breathed Marisa. “Good heavens.”

“And now,” Camden reminded them firmly, “you were going to tell me everything.”

Taking turns, and at times repeating themselves, Alex and Marisa told Lieutenant Camden everything they knew about the crimes.

When they had finished their narrative, Camden stared at them both. “I think that the killer is out there, just waiting to strike at the next person who threatens his—or her—safety.” Soberly, he looked at Marisa, then Alex. “I just hope it isn’t you two.”

Marisa turned toward the detective. “I think you forgot something at the police station.”

“What?” The lieutenant’s brow furrowed in thought.

“Your long-suffering attitude toward us. It’s conspicuously absent.” Marisa raised both eyebrows.

“I’m only aggressive when civilians consistently get under my feet and nearly get themselves killed,” Camden growled. “I decided it would be easier to work with you two than waste my time trying to keep you out of trouble.” He smiled at them without mirth.

Marisa jerked as a tinkling sound broke the silence. She started to run toward the window, but Alex pushed her back behind him.

As Camden and Alex raced to the window, a crackling noise caught Marisa’s attention. Unconsciously, her gaze followed the sound to the floral sofa.

“Fire!” Marisa tried to shriek, but her throat was tight with fear. A rag stuffed in a bottle was burning on the couch.

At the strangled gasp, Alex and Camden both pivoted away from the broken window.

“Molotov cocktail!” Alex cried, starting toward it. “I’ve got to get it!”

“Forget it! It’s getting ready to blow!” Camden caught Alex’s arm and tried to swing him away.

As the two men grappled with one another, grunting as they scuffled for domination, Marisa gazed at the burning rag stuffed in the bottle. Without stopping to think of the consequences, she grabbed the huge vase on the coffee table with both hands. With a cry, she flung the contents on the fire.

The loud sizzle caught the men’s attention, causing them to release their hold on one another. They looked first at the wet, smoking mess, covered with scattered flowers, and then turned their amazed faces to Marisa. Two sets of eyes bulged as both jaws dropped.

“Well,” Marisa twitched her shoulders defensively, “you two were busy with your masculine posturing. Someone had to do something.”
 

The afternoon sun touched the house and the surrounding trees with rays of molten gold, making the summer colors seem brighter. As Alex cautiously approached the closed, metal gates, Marisa silent at his side, his eyes were drawn to the quiet house. He casually tried to open the gate, silently approving the gracious lines of the towering brick home with the pristine white shutters and trim, and the neatly manicured lawn and grounds.

He glanced back at Marisa. As he surreptitiously drew a metallic tool from his pocket, her eyes widened. When he applied the tool to the latch of the gate with what appeared to be an appalling dexterity, Marisa grabbed his arm. “You can’t do that!”

Alex looked up at her in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because it’s illegal!” Marisa squeaked. Her head swiveled as she checked the quiet cul-de-sac. “Not only could we get fired for breaking into our boss’ property, but we could also get arrested!”

“It’s a quiet, drowsy Sunday afternoon. This is the last house on the street, and the other houses are too far away for anyone to see anything. Stop bracing yourself in anticipation of the rough grip of the law on the nape of your neck You’re just suffering from nerves.”

“I always get nervous when I contemplate haunting the unemployment line, let alone a long prison sentence for breaking and entering, trespassing—”

“See?” Alex turned to Marisa with a dazzling smile. “How careless of someone to leave this gate open. Shall we go inside and notify the owner?”

“Someone’s in the garden!” Marisa whispered urgently, clutching Alex’s arm from the shelter of the trees lining the curved drive.

Alex followed her gaze through the foliage. His eyes narrowed on the elderly, stooped figure of a woman, her face shaded by a large, straw hat.

“I don’t want to spook her. You wait here while I speak with her.”

Alex approached the old woman like a stalking tiger creeping up on a gentle, unsuspecting antelope. When he heard Marisa’s quiet steps behind him, he didn’t even pause. He should have known she wouldn’t listen to him.

As if catching his predatory scent on the afternoon breeze, the old woman raised her head cautiously and scanned the trees.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Alex stepped from behind a tree and stepped onto the paved garden path. Marisa was so close behind him he caught the faint scent of her soap mingled with the sweet fragrance of the flowers.

The only sign of her surprise was the widening of the old lady’s eyes. “Hello. Would you like to see my beautiful flowers?”

Alex was taken aback. He’d expected a challenge, not a greeting. “I’m here to visit Payton Reed.”

She nodded vigorously, sending the hat to one side of her curly gray head. “You must be with the other one. They’re in the study.” She bent down, and pulled vigorously at a stout weed.

His hand firm on Marisa’s arm, he began to turn away. Alex paused, studying the plump back, heavy legs encased support hose, and the flabby arms tugging at the recalcitrant weed.

“Mrs. Reed.”

She straightened, her vague blue eyes meeting his. “Yes?”

Alex smiled his most winning smile and met the cloudy eyes squarely. “Don’t you remember me? My big brother and Payton were inseparable in school.” Alex felt Marisa’s start of surprise, and squeezed her hand to silence her.

She frowned in concentration, then her wrinkled brow eased in recognition. “You must be Bertie’s little brother! My, how time flies. The last time I saw you, your leg was in a cast.” She wiped one grimy hand across her sweaty forehead. “You, Bertie, and Payton had watched that show on television about stunt driving. After you saw Evil Knievel, the famous daredevil, jumping the Grand Canyon on his motorcycle, you decided you could accomplish the same feat with your bicycle!” 

Alex laughed with her. “Oh, yes, it was a crazy thing to do. I thought it would impress my friends, not to mention Bertie and Payton.”

With her lips abruptly pursed, the lines in Mrs. Reed’s face deepened around her mouth. She avoided Alex’s eyes. “I suppose you call him Payton because he insists upon it. He won’t let me call him by his real name, even in private. He’s afraid I will make a slip in public.”

Feeling like a soldier picking his way through a minefield, Alex spoke softly. “He was very adamant about that.”

“I wish I knew where I’d gone wrong,” Mrs. Reed sighed, her eyes focused on the past. Absently, she slapped at an insect on her arm. “Payton’s father and I loved him so very much. Our first priority was to give him a loving home, with plenty of encouragement and nurturing. We were so proud when he announced on the night of his high school graduation he’d decided to become a minister. His father’s chest swelled so much with pride for his son I thought he’d pop all of the buttons off his brand-new shirt.” Her pale mouth, innocent of lipstick, tenderly curved into a motherly smile.

When Marisa started to speak, Alex squeezed her hand so firmly she let out a little squeal of protest.

Mrs. Reed’s head turned sharply, nearly dislodging the straw hat. “I know what you’re thinking, young lady. When he stole the money from the church, I should not have protected him.”

Marisa’s indrawn breath of shock was the only sound in the sun-flooded garden. Her mouth opened, then closed as she met Alex’s severe glare of warning.

“It was storming the night he showed up on our doorstep, as wet and bedraggled as a half-drowned rat. When I opened the door and let him in, Payton fell back against it like a poor, abused dog. He staggered to his knees at my feet and sobbed out the whole, sordid story.

“I was always surprised Payton wasn’t caught at that point,” interposed Alex gently.

Mrs. Reed shrugged. “It was the staged suicide which kept the authorities from arresting him, of course. He took that fine, upstanding widow woman from the church with him. After he had all of her money, he left her high and dry. Then, after he had everything set up for his new life, he had the audacity to steal a body from the morgue. Now I ask you, what decent kind of man takes a dead body? Anyway, he crashed his car, with the poor dead man in it, and left it to be found as himself. The police had no choice but to assume it was him.”

Alex’s tone was carefully neutral. “You covered for him.”

“No matter what he’d done, he was still my son!” She was a savage female lion, protecting her only cub. “I couldn’t turn him over to the authorities! They’d have put him in prison, locked him away. I thought if he had a fresh start, he would make the right choice this time, righteousness rather than evil.”

“And did he?” Marisa stepped closer to the older woman to meet the faded blue eyes.

Mrs. Reed turned away. “That’s between him and God,” she evaded. She passed a grimy hand over her cheek, leaving a black streak of dirt. “All those years gone by—”

A sharp crack exploded nearby. “That was a gunshot!” Alex cried. “It came from that corner room, where the window is open!”

“The study! My son!” wailed Mrs. Reed. She set off for the patio doors at an unsteady run.

Alex sprinted past her, with Marisa so close behind him he could hear her breath hitching in her chest. As he entered the shadowy, quiet hall, he swerved to the right and ran toward the closed door at the end.

Alex skidded to a halt in front of it, and listened intently. Marisa abruptly shoved him aside, sending him into the wall with a cracking jar to his shoulder. As she grabbed the door handle and turned it, he cried, “Stop!”

She pushed the door open, and lunged into the room. Alex rolled his eyes at the ceiling. She never listened to him. He had no choice but to plunge through the doorway after her.

* * * * *

As Marisa burst through the door, her eyes fell on the dark metal of a handgun. The slim hand holding it was connected to a woman, who was staring at Marisa in horror.

“Tara! What on earth are you doing?” Marisa felt the room tilt dizzily. She was barely aware of Alex inching his way behind Tara.

“I’m doing what should have been done long ago! Our hospital has been run into the ground. The only way I can turn it around is to kill Payton.” The green eyes, framed by tousled blonde hair, were beseeching. “You do understand, don’t you, Marisa?”

“Tara.” Marisa felt helplessly disoriented. Her best friend was holding a gun and ranting about killing the hospital administrator. She squared her shoulders. Perhaps she could reason with her irate friend. “Honey, if you kill Payton, what do you think will happen? The corporate office will send along another one just like him. If you eliminate that one, then they’ll just send a third one. He is a symptom, not the problem. He is the representative of a huge corporation, a corporation which doesn’t care about employees or patients.”

The hand holding the gun trembled. “What am I going to do?”

Marisa stepped closer. At the crunching sound beneath her feet, she looked down. The carpet was littered with green glass shards.

“I shot the lamp, Marisa. He’s a pig, but I couldn’t shoot him.”

Marisa put her arms around Tara, dimly aware Alex was pulling the gun from her friend’s unresisting fingers and tossing it in the corner.

Payton popped up from the desk and roared, “She’s a crazy woman! She’s the murderer! She killed those people!”

Tara’s tear-stained face jerked up in surprise.

Payton waved his arms. “Come on! Think! Who else could it be? Who else would brutally shoot that man, and leave Marisa unharmed? Who else would set fire to the murdered woman’s apartment, and not kill that nosy old woman? Tara is the murderer!”

Alex slowly shook his head from side to side. “I think Tara went…a little too far today, but she’s not a killer.” His eyes on Reed’s wild ones, Alex stated, “Reed, you killed Jonah Graham.”

“That’s ridiculous! I don’t have to stand here in my own house and be insulted. It’s high time I called the police to pick up that mad woman...” He reached for the phone on the desk.

Alex lunged toward his boss. “If you call the police, Reed, then I’ll have to ask them to take your fingerprints and check for any outstanding warrants...such as for embezzlement.”

Reed clenched his fists in fury. “How did you...!” He clamped his lips closed as he tried to gather his scattered wits. “I might have done some things in the past I’m not proud of, but I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t even know Jonah Graham. I don’t know anything about the murders, other than what I’ve read in the newspaper.” Shaking, Reed eased back in his chair.

“Jonah Graham must have stumbled onto your former career as a minister, and your subsequent embezzlement from the church. Zoe and Jonah were partners in the blackmail scheme. You must have killed him because he found out what you did, and you had to kill Zoe because she was in on it.”

A minister? Marisa’s mind raced. A minister in disgrace. The disjointed facts in her mind began to lay themselves out in a neat pattern.

Marisa slipped her hand inside her bag and rummaged around in it.

Alex continued. “Reed, you were on the spot when Jonah was murdered. You dressed in the gown and mask, and covered your head with a surgical hat. Then, you slipped past the receptionist and entered the hall leading to Marisa’s office. The receptionist was busy on the telephone. He did see you, but given the hospital setting, he didn’t stop you. You sneaked into Marisa’s outer office, raised the gun, and shot Jonah through the glass panel. Then, you slipped out the back door, and then you probably re-entered the hospital with the police and emergency medical personnel.”

Alex moved forward a step. “You didn’t kill Marisa because she’s your niece. I had noticed the resemblance between you two, but I just chalked it up as an odd quirk of fate.”

Marisa rose slowly to her feet and shook her head. “Alex, you’ve figured out part of the story, but not all of it. Payton is my Uncle Christian; my father was his half brother. But there’s more to the story.”

Reed was bewildered. “What the—”

Marisa braced her palms on the desk and leaned over to meet Reed’s eyes. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. You’re the one who set up the fake employees in the system. You embezzled money by pocketing their pay through direct deposit to an account you had set up for that purpose. You used Alex’s user name for everything. That way, he could take the blame for what you did.”

His face convulsed with rage, Reed brought his fist down on the desk. “Shut up! Just shut up!”

Marisa’s lip curled in scorn. “You set fire to Zoe Walker’s apartment to destroy the evidence she may have left behind. When Mrs. Walker interrupted you, you threatened her and she fainted. Only moments ago, when you accused Tara of the crime, you mentioned the fire and the nosy old woman. The fire was in the news early this morning, but not what happened with Mrs. Walker.”

“Smart, aren’t you? I had to set that fire. It was so easy. Last October, I attended a Halloween party as a policeman. I simply dragged the costume out of the attic, dressed in it, and went to the apartment. I managed to jimmy the door open. As I was pouring gasoline around the apartment, that nosy old woman showed up. I didn’t hurt her, but I could have. Then, I went to Jonah’s apartment. I grabbed his computer, called 911 for the old woman, and then I got the hell out of there.”

“Payton, why did you go to such lengths to hide the truth?” Marisa was genuinely curious.