Where Is Henderson? (Sam Darling mystery #5) (13 page)

He tried to sit up, and since I was now sitting my hands were free. I leaned over to give him a little boost. He rubbed his head as he sat. With the other hand he petted Clancy.

“Is he… is she… are they still here?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know who did it, and I don’t know if they’re still here. But someone had to turn the lights back on.”

Just then I felt the tower of bottles behind me start to wobble. I screamed and tried to instinctively jump on George to protect him. At the same time, Clancy gave a howl like I’d never heard and she lunged toward the tower, effectively toppling it in the opposite direction.

I heard a satisfying scream that didn’t come from me. George stood with Clancy’s help and walked around the boxes. At the same time, he pulled out his weapon and said, in a forceful voice, “Don’t move. Don’t you dare move.”

I couldn’t see who was under the bottles, but I knew who I’d hoped it was. Like a snake, I slithered on my belly around, under, and over bottles and cardboard. With his free hand George worked to free whoever was under the bottles, and revealed a bloody and angry Louise Shannon.

My triumphant “Aha,” quickly morphed into another sob, which really made me mad. I didn’t want this creature to see me at my weakest. However, it seemed I had no choice. My ankle was at the least sprained, my knees were shredded, and I was coming down from a traumatic experience. Of course I was going to sob.

Not Louise though. She lay there with anger written on her normally lovely face.

George said, “You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of—”

I couldn’t take it. “Attempted murder? Attempted murder? She killed her nephew. No attempted about it.”

“Sam, stop.” He turned back to Louise. “You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Samantha Darling and Chief Detective George Lansing. You are entitled to an attorney. If you choose…”

I zoned out as George droned on with the familiar words, and put my head down on my hands to rest my neck. I knew she’d killed her nephew, but when I took a minute to think, it made sense that George was arresting her for trying to kill us. We didn’t have the evidence to connect her to her nephew’s murder, but I was confident we soon would. Whether we or the Henderson cops got the confession, it didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter if it went to trial. I just knew she had done it and that the truth would come out.

But darn it—I wanted to be the one to get her to crack. And I smiled as I figured out how I was going to do it.

L
ouise didn’t say anything about wanting a lawyer, so I liked that. But we were in kind of a predicament. My phone was lost under a mound of stuff, and when George pulled his out, it had broken in his fall.

“Do you have a phone on you?” he asked Louise.

“Of course not,” she laughed. “They have a GPS capability on them. I didn’t want anyone to be able to prove I was here.”

George was a little unsteady, but he was the only one available to walk to another phone to call for help. He turned to me, while still keeping the gun trained on Shannon. “Sam, I’ve got to get to a phone. I’m going to leave my gun with you. Keep her lying on the floor and stay far enough away that she can’t kick you. If she gets up, shoot her. Got that?”

The smile on my face must have been answer enough because he said, “Don’t shoot her unless she tries to escape or tries to hurt you. Understand?”

I nodded. By then I’d gotten myself into a seated position and was leaning against an unbroken box. I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face.

At least until George said to Louise, “She’s crazy, Shannon. My fiancée is crazy. She would as likely shoot you as look at you. It’s in your best interest to stay still until I return.”

She didn’t say anything, but I did. “Crazy? What gives you the right to call me names?”

The gun had come perilously close to being pointed at George. He gently touched the barrel and moved it so that it was pointed at Louise Shannon again. He winked at me with the eye she couldn’t see, and I understood. He was trying to scare her into staying still so I’d have no trouble. A smart man.

I still played along. This time I spoke to Louise, “I’ve only shot a few people. It’s not like I shoot someone every time I have a gun in my hand.” I paused. “Well, I guess that’s exactly what I did…” I smiled inwardly.

As George started to leave, he turned around and said to Clancy, “Watch her, girl.” He seemed satisfied. I didn’t know if “her” meant me or Louise Shannon, but it didn’t matter. To me he said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. You can trust that.”

My stalwart cop took off, although a little slowly, which worried me. I soon turned my attention to Louise Shannon, though, and thought I’d have a little fun.

“I know you killed your nephew.”

“How do you know? I mean, no I didn’t.”

Maybe she’d hit her head. I thought that I probably shouldn’t try to get a confession from her because her lawyer would say she was groggy or concussed or something, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Yes, you did and I know how and why.” Even Clancy looked at me when I said that. Of course I was BS-ing, but I thought I’d give it a try.

Here goes,
I thought. “You murdered him with an urn. You hit him right over the head with it. And you did it because you wanted Jonah to get the factory instead of Cash. It’s that simple.”

“Fat lot you know.” She practically spat the words.

“No matter what you say, Louise, I know that’s what happened. You use this warehouse and shipping department for your water. Oh, and I know the water doesn’t really come from Happy Acres, it comes from the spigot on the other side of the warehouse. You’re not only a murderer, you’re a crook too.” I couldn’t stop smiling by that time. It felt so good to see her smug expression suddenly turn into a quivering red mouth and a red complexion.

She sputtered. She actually sputtered when she spoke. “You don’t know as much as you think you know. It’s not really murder when it’s an accident.”

“It’s a homicide whether it’s murder, manslaughter, or involuntary manslaughter. Homicide comes from the Latin meaning ‘killing the man,’ so I know what I’m talking about.”

“Shut up,” she said.

“You’re in no position to tell anyone to shut up.” She’d almost admitted she killed him accidentally, and didn’t seem to understand what she’d said. I decided to soften up a little bit and see if she’d bite on the bait I threw out there.

I changed my tactic. “Sorry ’bout that. If it was an accident, then that does make all the difference in the world. Most people don’t even go to prison when it’s involuntary manslaughter.”

Her face relaxed at that. She said, “That’s what I thought, from TV shows and movies.”

I relaxed too, but kept the gun pointed in her direction. In those same TV shows and movies this would be the time when the hero (that would be me) would relax too much and would be overcome by the villain (that would be her). I was not going to let that happen. Not this time.

In those shows the authorities routinely lied to the suspects in order to garner a confession. I thought I’d give that a try. “I’ll testify for you that it was an accident.”

She’d been looking at the floor, but looked up at that. “Would you?”

“Of course,” I lied. “Whatever will help.”

“That’s kind of you.” Of course her narcissistic personality wouldn’t let her think I wasn’t being truthful. She believed the world revolved around her, and any other notion simply didn’t enter her head.

I kept going. “Maybe if you tell me the whole story we can figure out what would be the best thing for me to say to help you.” I tried to form my face into an honest look and hoped she’d believe me. “Just start at the beginning, and continue up to today.”

I made it a request and not a question. She complied.

“Well, Cash threatened me with—”

I quickly interrupted her. “I mean, start at the real beginning, when you started using the warehouse.” My earnestness compelled her.

She visibly relaxed even more. “I discovered the healing properties of the spring when I was a kid, and as an adult thought I should share it with the world.”

She was sounding like a marketing brochure, but I didn’t want to interrupt her again. She was gearing up to tell me her great success story, and if it ended in telling me how Cash died, I was willing to be patient.

“When I started my own business, Jonah wasn’t supportive initially, but when I began getting a following, he saw that I knew what I was doing. I was making money.” She smiled. “I soon realized that to satisfy the demand, I needed a bigger operation. At that point I was just gathering the water myself, purifying and bottling it in my kitchen, and shipping it from my home. I was in over my head.”

“Your business grew fast,” I said, feeding into her sense of self-importance.

“Fast doesn’t begin to describe it. People around here knew of Happy Acres and most had visited there, so there was a sense of nostalgia as well as pride about it. So I asked Jonah if I could bring the water to the warehouse, and package and ship from there. He agreed.”

“Of course he did. How could he not.” I beamed at her as if in shared pride. I thought the Academy Award would soon be on my mantel. If I actually had a mantel.

“So for a while, that’s what I did. No problem at all. I slipped the warehouse supervisor a few bucks to help me, and that was that. Then Cash started working in the warehouse, and everything changed. He watched me as if I were going to steal his precious factory. It wasn’t his. It was his father’s. But Cash already had him dead and buried, with him as the sole heir.”

She shifted a little, which jolted me out of my relaxed state, and I raised the gun again. It was important not to forget that this smooth talking water mogul was a murderer.

“By then I’d become overwhelmed, absolutely overwhelmed with the amount of work it took to sell my water. I’d brought on associates and they were selling it. Business was booming, as they say. Right before Cash started working there, I’d decided to cut a few corners. I mean, everyone does it.”

She looked at me for my agreement, so I gave it to her with a nod.

“I began using tap water instead of carting down the water from the springs. I didn’t think people would notice. Anyway, by the time I’d finished purifying the spring water, it was no different than tap water anyway. Right?”

“Right,” I said, nodding again.

“My water sold so well that it easily outstripped the sales of the urns. I needed more and more warehouse space, but I didn’t really want Jonah to know, so I made sure the pallets of water were stored toward the center of the building. I paid the warehouse guy even more money to help me. I had plenty of money.” Her self-satisfied grin irked me, but I held my tongue. “With the water in the center, the urns were what everyone saw unless they were actually looking for something else.”

“So now would be a good time to tell me about how Cash died. Accidentally.”

“I went to the warehouse on a Friday, knowing no one else would be there because we were in the middle of Henderson Days. I was running low on inventory and had a huge, I mean
huge
, order due in a few days. As I was checking out my inventory, in the center of the warehouse, Cash surprised me by showing up.”

“That wasn’t very nice of him.” I wanted to keep encouraging her.

“It was almost like he was spying on me. How dare he do that to me?” The “me” was emphasized and I knew then that her narcissism was more like megalomania.

“How could he do that to you? His aunt.”

Her look changed to suspicion immediately and I thought I’d gone too far. Then she shook her head and said, “I loved Cash. I really did.”

“I know you did. But he was spying on you. Actually spying.”

“Yes,” she said. “You really understand.”

I gave her my best social worker look, including a furrowed brow.

She continued, “So he yelled me. At me! For no reason. He said I was using up valuable resources of the plant. That he knew I was putting water from the spigot into the bottles. That I was defrauding my customers.” Tears came to her eye. “Me. Defrauding people. I would never do that.”

“Of course not,” I said, reinforcing her flow of words. “Then what happened?”

“He got really angry. He called me names. He pointed a finger at me. He threatened to expose me. He said he would tell Jonah everything. I couldn’t have that.” She seemed as if she were talking to herself now instead of to me. “I couldn’t have that at all.”

She was sitting by now, but I didn’t object. Her eyes got hard and she focused on her hands. “I pushed him after he threatened me. I pushed him hard. And do you know what he did?” She looked at me as she asked the question.

I just shook my head.

“He laughed at me, Samantha. He actually laughed at me.” She shook her head from side to side. “I was so angry, and hurt. How could he laugh at me? I was his aunt. Plus I was making a lot of money. I was not a joke.”

“What did you do then?”

“I backed away and said he was right.” She had entered a world of her own by then. Nothing I could say or do would deter her from finishing her narrative. “I apologized and said I would make this right. He relaxed. I asked if we could move from the center of the building as I was getting claustrophobic, surrounded by stacks of boxed water. So he led the way to the perimeter of the building. We walked past some urns, and I grabbed one, and got right up behind him as he walked and hit him over the head. It was an accident. He didn’t fall down, but turned around and looked at me. He was mad, so I hit him again. I didn’t mean to do it. You have to believe me.”

“Maybe she does, but I don’t. It was no accident.” It was the voice of my beloved George as he came around the stack of boxes, nodding and looking unsurprised at her revelation.

George’s voice was welcome, and I happily handed the gun to him as soon as he appeared. At the same time I heard sirens approaching and knew that Louise Shannon was caught in a snare of her own making.

“How long were you there?” I asked my hero.

“Long enough to hear that it was not involuntary manslaughter, but most likely murder in the second degree. Not premeditated, but certainly no accident. Good job, Sam.”