The Stone of Sadness (An Olivia Miller Mystery Book 3) (25 page)

“Hello?” Olivia said. She listened for several seconds. “Okay. Sure. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Olivia clicked off.

She hurried back inside, got her phone charger and Lily’s food, locked the house, and climbed into her Jeep. At the end of John’s driveway, Olivia turned the wheel left towards Magnolia Hill and Isabel Bradford’s mansion.

Olivia drove her vehicle down the long driveway, her headlights cutting through the inky night. She parked her Jeep along the edge of the circular driveway. As soon as she opened the Jeep’s door, the front entrance to the Bradford mansion swung open and Olivia could see Angela’s pale face visible under the lights of the front portico.

“Olivia, thank you so much for coming so late,” Angela’s voice quavered.

“It’s okay, Angela. It’s no problem at all,” Olivia told her.

Angela’s brow was furrowed and her lips were tense. She stepped back from the front door to make room for Olivia to enter.

“What’s going on?” Olivia asked. The house was quiet and dark.

Angela twisted her hands and glanced down the hallway that branched off of the front foyer. “It’s mother. She’s been very angry the past few days. She hasn’t been eating. She didn’t get out of bed for two days. She’s been complaining of feeling ill. I just got her up and out of bed this morning.”

“Did you call the doctor?”

“Mother said she doesn’t need a damn doctor. Her words.” Angela sat down on the steps of the massive curved staircase. “Then she sent her personal assistant home early today…she said she wouldn’t be needing her. I’ve been here all day. She’s driving me crazy.” She rubbed her eyes. “It all started when that lawyer came here to speak with her.”

“What lawyer?”

“Overman’s lawyer. He came to ask her questions.” Angela looked up at Olivia. “She was not pleased.”

“Were you there when the lawyer talked to her?”

“No. Mother wouldn’t allow anyone to stay in the room with them.”

“Did she tell you about their conversation?”

Angela shook her head. “I asked but she let me know in no uncertain terms that the conversation would remain confidential.”

Olivia shifted her feet. “So why did you ask me to come over? I sure won’t be able to get any information out of her.”

“I called you…at mother’s request.”

“
She
asked me to come over? Why?”

Angela stood and shook her head wearily. “I have no idea. Come on. She’s in the family room.” She let out a heavy sigh. “This should be interesting.”

The two women walked along the plush Persian runner that carpeted the hallway and emerged into the family room. The room was dark, lit only by one lamp on the side table next to the chair that held Mrs. Bradford’s tiny frame. She was gazing out of the floor to ceiling glass walls towards the manicured lawns which were cloaked in darkness. She turned her head when she heard Angela and Olivia enter the room.

“Mother, Olivia is here.”

“I can see that,” Mrs. Bradford said, her voice curt and stern.

“Hello, Mrs. Bradford,” Olivia said.

Mrs. Bradford’s bony hand lifted from her lap and the long, skinny finger pointed at the sofa across from her. “Sit.”

Olivia and Angela exchanged a quick glance and both moved across the room to the sofa where they took a seat.

“No, Angela,” Mrs. Bradford said. “It’s time for you to go home.”

Angela’s face was pained and she started to stammer, “But, I…”

“This is a private conversation between myself and Olivia. It would make me very happy if you would head home now,” Mrs. Bradford said.

Angela blinked at her mother unsure of what to do. Mrs. Bradford nodded her head. “Go ahead, Angela. You’ve been here all day. I’ll be fine until Mrs. Adams arrives.” Mrs. Adams was one of Mrs. Bradford’s personal nurses hired to spend nights at the mansion.

“Mrs. Adams won’t be here for some time,” Angela protested. “You certainly won’t be with Olivia until then.”

“No, dear. But I will be happy to sit here quietly between the time Olivia and I finish and the time Mrs. Adams arrives to put me to bed.” The kind tone Mrs. Bradford used threw Angela off. “Please, dear. Go home now. Do this for your mother.”

Angela was shocked at the gentle words. She rose and went to her mother’s side, where she bent and kissed her on the cheek. “Alright, Mother,” she said, unsure. Angela looked at Olivia. “Is that okay with you, Olivia?”

Olivia nodded. “I’ll be happy to stay until Mrs. Adams arrives.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Mrs. Bradford replied. She patted Angela’s hand and said, “You’re a good daughter.”

Angela’s eyes misted over at the uncharacteristic kindness. She nodded at Olivia and hurried from the room. Mrs. Bradford trained her gaze out to the yard until she had given Angela adequate time to leave the house and walk to her car, then she turned her steely eyes to Olivia.

“So. Here we are,” Mrs. Bradford said. She clasped her hands in her lap, the two index fingers touching and pointing towards the ceiling. Olivia remained quiet wondering where this conversation was going to go.

“Mr. Overman’s lawyer came to see me recently,” Mrs. Bradford said.

“I heard that,” Olivia replied.

“He knew of our conversation regarding Overman being in Boston on the day of the murders.”

Olivia nodded. “I told him. I wrote him a note. Father Mike delivered it.”

“Of course, I denied everything. I said that you must have misunderstood my comments.”

Olivia sighed. “I’m not surprised.”

“You are a smart young woman, Olivia.”

Olivia did not respond.

“But not smart enough to leave well enough alone,” Mrs. Bradford said.

Olivia’s blood started to boil. “Did you ask me here to discuss my IQ?”

Mrs. Bradford snorted. She flicked her eyes to the hallway entrance.

“I asked you here to discuss the case.” She gave Olivia her full attention. “You have been persistent in your search for truth and justice. That might be considered admirable.”

“But not by you,” Olivia said.

“I would ask whose truth? What justice do you seek?”

Confusion furrowed Olivia’s brow.

“What kind of justice would be appropriate in the case of your cousins? Some sort of deserved punishment for the murderer, say, a life for a life? Or, perhaps forgiveness for the murderer? An attempt to understand why the crime was committed? Or maybe, instead, an attempt at rehabilitation of the guilty party?” Mrs. Bradford asked, and looked towards the hallway.

“Maybe some of those things,” Olivia said, her voice strained with annoyance.

Mrs. Bradford’s eyes snapped back to Olivia. “Those things won’t bring them back,” she hissed. “Life is for the living.”

“So?” Olivia asked. “What are you saying? We just forget about them? Let criminals get off? Crimes go unpunished?”

“You’re young,” Mrs. Bradford said. “You don’t understand the depths of love.”

Olivia’s eyes went wide. Her mind was awash in confusion. She shook her head. “What are you talking about? Why did you ask me here? To have some sort of philosophical discussion about crime and punishment?” She heard footsteps approaching from the hallway. Emily Bradford entered the room. Olivia’s pulse quickened.

Emily’s head swiveled from her mother to Olivia.

“Hello, Emily,” Mrs. Bradford said.

Emily again looked back and forth from Olivia to her mother. Her face was stern.

“Why did you call me?” she addressed her mother. “You said you were alone…and ill.”

“Please sit down. I’ll explain,” Mrs. Bradford said and pointed to the empty chair positioned at the end of the coffee table between Mrs. Bradford’s chair and the sofa Olivia sat on.

Emily exhaled loudly as she crossed to the chair. “How are
you
involved?” she asked Olivia.

Olivia’s pulse quickened as she eyed Emily. “I have no idea. I only got here a few minutes ago. I didn’t know you were invited as well.” Olivia looked at Mrs. Bradford. “I thought you and Emily were estranged?”

Mrs. Bradford ignored Olivia. “Please try to be patient, Emily. Although I know that isn’t one of your virtues.”

Emily started to retort when Mrs. Bradford raised her hand. “I’m only asking for a bit of your time. We need to sort things out.”

“Sort what out?” Emily asked. Her voice dripped with disgust.

Mrs. Bradford turned to Olivia. “So, Olivia, tell us what you have learned about the murders,” Mrs. Bradford said.

The hair on Olivia’s arms stood up. Intuition warned her to get out of the Bradford house. “I’m not sure what this powwow is about but maybe it would be better if just you and Emily continued the chat,” Olivia said moving to stand up.

“Sit down,” Mrs. Bradford commanded. “You will regret it if you leave now. You have questions that you want answered. Stay in your seat and you’ll have them.”

Olivia glanced at Emily and remained sitting.

“You have interviewed many people,” Mrs. Bradford said. “I assume that you have an idea of who committed the crimes of murdering your cousins?”

Olivia said nothing. Her heart was thudding against her chest.

“Do you have a suspect in mind?” Mrs. Bradford asked.

“I might,” Olivia replied. She looked to the hallway and then to the doors that led to the terrace, trying to judge which would be the best means for a quick exit.

“Have you told the police what you think?”

“No.”

“Why, not?” Mrs. Bradford asked.

“I don’t have any proof to offer them,” Olivia said trying to modulate her voice.

“Do you think that you will be able to muster some evidence if you keep investigating?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think it was Overman?”

“No.” Olivia’s face was as hard as stone.

“But, his semen. The DNA test,” Mrs. Bradford stated.

“His semen was there at the crime scene, yes.” Olivia took a deep breath. “But
he
wasn’t.”

Emily shifted in her chair and her eyes shot daggers at her mother. “What is the point of this?” Her voice was shrill.

“If you are patient, Emily, you will see what the point is. So, Olivia, please tell me who the suspect is.”

Olivia’s head was buzzing. She rose from the sofa. “I’m done with this.”

“No, you are not,” Mrs. Bradford said icily. She pulled a small pistol from under the soft blanket that covered her knees and pointed it at Olivia. Olivia’s mouth gaped.

“Mother!” Emily cried.

“Sit down,” Mrs. Bradford said. Her voice was calm and even.

Olivia backed up, her eyes on the pistol, and sat.

“Now, you will both answer my questions. And don’t think I won’t pull this trigger. I am an old woman and I have nothing to lose.” She pointed the gun at Emily and held it there for several seconds before turning it back on Olivia. “People can surprise you, can’t they?” she asked both of them.

Olivia and Emily stared at the gun. Olivia’s mind was racing. Her eyes swept the room searching for something she could use as a weapon.

“Who do suspect killed your cousins?” Mrs. Bradford demanded.

Blood was pounding in Olivia’s ears. “I had two guesses,” Olivia seethed. “Father Anthony was one of them…initially,” she said to Mrs. Bradford.

Mrs. Bradford threw her head back and cackled. “I wasn’t expecting that. That’s nonsense.” She adjusted the blanket on her knees.

Olivia turned to Emily. “Do you own a gun?”

“What?” Emily spit the word out.

“Do you know how to shoot?” Olivia asked. Her voice was firm. “Squirrels?”

Before Emily could respond, Mrs. Bradford cleared her throat and demanded, “Olivia, who is suspect number two?”

Emily leaned forward clutching the sides of the chair.

Olivia leveled her eyes at Mrs. Bradford, and said, “Emily.”

Emily almost jumped out of her seat.

“Don’t you move,” Mrs. Bradford said and brandished the gun at Emily. “Go ahead, Olivia. Tell me why you suspect her.”

Olivia drew in a breath. “Emily dated Kenny to make you and your husband upset. She never had any intention of staying with him. Emily was infatuated with Father Anthony at the church.” Olivia stole a glance at Emily whose face was flushed. Her eyes looked black.

“Go on.” Mrs. Bradford’s voice was hoarse.

“Emily flirted with Father Anthony, made him uncomfortable whenever she was around. Father Anthony and Mary were friends. People gossiped about them being more than friends. The idea that Father Anthony and Mary might be having an affair made Emily crazy.”

“Shut up,” Emily screamed. “You don’t know me.”

Mrs. Bradford shot Emily a warning look.

“Kenny spoiled Emily’s plans to go to New York City for the day. Emily claimed she went, but she didn’t. She couldn’t have arrived home so quickly that day if she had taken the bus back and forth like she says she did. She would have only been in New York for two hours if she was home when you say you arrived back from Boston, Mrs. Bradford.” Olivia paused to steady her voice. “Emily went to the church that afternoon to see Father Anthony. He rebuffed her. She was in a rage. Father Anthony went into the rectory to get away from her. Mary and her daughter arrived at the church hall with the paint, but only Emily was there.”

Olivia faced Emily. “I don’t know what happened next, but your fury and jealousy caused you to murder my cousins.”

Emily’s fingernails had pierced the fabric of the chair arms. Her eyes were wild and she was hyperventilating.

“Explain the semen.” Mrs. Bradford’s voice was tense.

Olivia wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat. She tried to speak but nothing came out.

“I would offer you a drink, Olivia, but this isn’t a social occasion,” Mrs. Bradford said. “Keep talking.”

Olivia coughed. “Kenny came over that night…the night of the murders. You wouldn’t let him in because of your earlier fight with Emily near the fireplace. So Kenny and Emily talked outside…in her parked car.”

“Go on.”

Olivia looked at Emily.

“Angela said she saw you and Kenny in the backseat of your car when she pulled into the driveway of your parents’ house. You were having sex with Kenny in the car. I think you were high from the killings. You didn’t care if your parents caught you screwing Kenny in their driveway. Your sister drove up to the house right when you and Kenny were finishing up. When she drove in, you or Kenny pulled off the condom and left it in your car. Later that night you got the idea to convince the police that the killer was a man. Maybe you planned to pin the murders on Kenny. So you got the used condom out of your car and took off through the woods behind your house to the field where the bodies were still undiscovered. You emptied the condom at the scene and ran home.” Olivia kept her eyes fixed on Emily. “No one would ever suspect that a woman was the killer since someone left semen there, would they?”