Once we reached the house, Marva sneaked behind the famous Mustang and a Lexus with vanity plates that said NEWSFOWL. She led me toward a fenced-off area full of trash bins.
“Uh-oh. Company,” Marva whispered. She pointed at a car parked further down the drive.
It was a Ferrari 360 Spider convertible.
“Plant!” I said. “That’s Plantagenet Smith’s car!” What could he possibly be doing here?
Marva held her gun ready as she kept an eye on the house.
“Plantagenet Smith, the screenwriter? Cool. He’s a friend of yours?”
I nodded.
“Fabulous,” said Marva. “This will work great. Go up to the front door and ask for Mr. Smith and distract them. I’ll sneak in the kitchen and find our little media whore and do my best to get her out safe. Meet me back at my car in ten minutes.”
I checked my watch
“Distract them? It’s nearly eleven o clock at night. Why do I say I’m here?”
“Say you’re looking for your ex. Or Mitzi. You’ll think of something.”
Marva disappeared into the dark.
I clomped up to the massive carved doors of Duncan Fowler’s house and shivered as terrible questions ricocheted around my brain. If Walker Montgomery had already murdered three people, was Donna was even alive? What if he’d killed Plant, too? My panic rose. It didn’t make much sense to me that Plant would be visiting an arch-conservative pundit—gay or not—at this time of night.
Duncan Fowler himself came to the door. He looked old and tired without his TV make-up and his signature crew cut was more gray than blond. He pulled the door partly shut behind him and spoke in a fierce whisper.
“Marva, it’s too late. We know you lied about having those letters, and we’re about to leave…” His eyes rested on my chest. “Oh, excuse me. You’re not Marva…”
“No. I’m Camilla Randall—the Manners Doctor. I’m staying at the Rancho Grande. I’m a friend of Plantagenet Smith. Is he here?”
I hoped my polite, clueless smile covered my inner terror.
The thought came to me that Marva might be a liar—or crazy. And this could be a horrible trap. But at this moment, I had no choice but to keep my smile pasted on and step into Duncan Fowler’s lair.
“Camilla! Darling, what are you doing here?” Plantagenet appeared at the door behind Duncan. “Is something wrong?”
I quieted him with a friendly hug as I whispered in his ear. “The shoes are borrowed. I’ll explain later…”
Duncan ushered us into a faux-rustic sitting room, where Silas rose to greet me.
“Duncan, you didn’t tell me you and Dr. Manners were friends,” Silas said. “But of course, with her ex-husband in the business…”
“Yes, Jonathan Kahn and I have met.” Duncan Fowler’s gracious-host mask betrayed nothing as he ushered me into the room. He poked the remains of a fire that glowed in the stone fireplace.
Plant didn’t sit.
“Darling, we were just leaving. Duncan’s taking off for Australia in the morning. He’s taking his helicopter to LAX. Nice way to avoid the traffic.”
I had to avoid Plant’s eyes as I forced a laugh. I looked at my watch. I just had to keep them all occupied for ten minutes. I plunked myself down in a distressed leather easy chair, ignoring Plant’s disapproving glance.
“Are things okay at the Rancho?” Duncan’s eyes showed anger, but his voice was polite. “Any news about Gabriella? I hope she has a good lawyer. It’s such a tragedy about her…”
“I don’t have any news about Gabriella, but…” I put on a dramatic expression. “Mitzi Boggs Bailey has been arrested.”
A small truth rather than a big lie. The Manners Doctor always said it was the best route out of a difficult situation.
“Oh my. What has that poor old girl done now?” Duncan said.
“She and Jonathan Kahn have been detained by the Chumash security people. Something about stealing a horse. And things at the Rancho seemed, um, a bit chaotic when I spoke with Alberto.”
I hoped my voice didn’t sound as phony to them as it did to me.
“Mitzi was arrested for horse thieving?” Duncan laughed. “I’m not surprised. That husband of hers was an old horse thief, too. “Gaby Moore has been a saint to put up with her all these years. Maybe that’s one of the reasons she snapped.”
“Gaby didn’t snap,” Silas said with a sharp tone. “I’m sure she’ll be released as soon as the Sheriff does some homework.” He pulled a phone from his pocket. “I’ll try the Rancho again. If Gaby hasn’t been released yet, we’ll head back to my house. The Rancho will be a zoo with the investigation going on.”
He paced the room, trying to get a signal.
“I can’t believe Gaby relies on that prehistoric phone system,” Plantagenet said. “We haven’t been able to get through to anybody all evening.” He turned to me. “At one point your policeman friend answered, but we were cut off. He told Silas there’s been a kidnapping, but for some reason, the Sheriff had been delayed…”
“I can’t get a signal in here,” Silas said. He took the phone out to the hallway.
“How did you find out we were here, darling?” Plant said. “Did you call Silas’s store? I should have given you my cell number. Not that you can get any kind of reception in these mountains. Trying to have a conversation on the way up here from Santa Barbara was comical…driving my Ferrari forty miles an hour so I could hang onto a tenuous phone connection before the next curve in the road cut me off entirely.”
A look of shock flashed on Duncan Fowler’s face.
“You? You drove over the San Marcos pass last Friday—in a Ferrari?” With a nervous laugh, he turned to poke the fire again. “They’re so unreliable. I like my Lexus.”
Plantagenet stood beside my chair. “I guess Silas’s manager told you his Wilde first edition has been stolen? Duncan was the last customer who looked at it, so…”
“He wanted to make sure I hadn’t nicked it.” Duncan gave a stiff smile.
Plant looked hurt. “Of course we didn’t suspect you. But Silas thought somebody might have tried to sell it to you, before it made its mysterious reappearance at the Rancho, since you’re a Wilde collector…”
“So the book Mrs. Boggs Bailey gave you—it’s not a forgery?” I found this odd news. “Are you sure? What about the letter?”
“That’s the strange thing.” Silas called from the hallway, pacing as he pushed buttons on his phone. “The handwriting is identical to what’s on my book’s flyleaf.”
“But that’s the problem.” Plant perched on the arm of my chair. “It’s precisely the same. Usually a person’s handwriting changes over the years.”
Duncan cleared his throat. “Don’t feel you have to stay. I’m sure you’ll be in a hurry to rescue poor Mitzi...”
Silas stood in the doorway. “As soon as I check with the Rancho, we’ll be on our way. I need to know if we should stay at the Rancho or go back to San Luis.”
I glanced at my watch again. I needed to stall at least another five minutes.
“So that book Mrs. Boggs Bailey found was stolen from Silas’s store? Didn’t Ernesto Cervantes work in one of his stores? Isn’t it likely he’s the one who stole it—and stashed it in Mrs. Boggs Bailey’s room for some reason?”
“You think Ernesto stole from Silas?” Plant’s eyebrows went up. He looked in Silas’s direction, but Silas finally seemed to have reached someone. He was listening intently as he paced the hall.
I wondered if he’d reached the Rancho, and what he’d found there.
Duncan’s eyes had sharpened as he glanced from Plant to me.
“Are you talking about that boy who was killed? He was in a street gang, wasn’t he? I think I heard that on the news. I don’t know why Silas would have let him work around valuable books. I hate to say it, but you just can’t help these people. They don’t want to work, and they’ll steal you blind.”
&
nbsp; Plantagenet’s lips went tight.
“Ernie loved Silas like a father. I refuse to believe he would steal from him.” He stood and tried to get Silas’s attention. “We all should go. We’ve stayed way too long. Duncan, I’m sorry we barged in at this hour.” He shook Duncan’s hand with stiff politeness and gave me a significant look.
But I stayed put. I had to keep them here a few more minutes while Marva searched for Donna.
“I think Ernesto may have intended to return that book. He might have sort of borrowed it to copy the handwriting from the inscription—so he could forge that Calamity Jane letter. I think he might have been the one who wrote it. And I think he intended to sell it to you, Plant.”
I was getting dangerously close to showing my hand, but I had to do something.
“Sort of borrowed? You think Ernie robbed Silas to scam me?”
Plant turned back to me—not angry, but surprised.
“All the hero-worship—you think that was fake? Some con game?” He gave me a look that seemed oddly like relief.
We heard a loud hello from Silas in the hallway. I thought it was directed into his phone until Walker Montgomery strode into the room—all six foot four of him, still wearing his ankle-length leather riding coat.
My throat constricted. I tried to smile.
“Hello, Dr. Manners,” he said. “Did you get bored with the entertainment at the Maverick Saloon? Cowboy poetry not your thing?”
His too-white teeth gleamed in the firelight like fangs.
Chapter 51—A Killer Confesses
Silas came back into the room, dropping his phone in his pocket.
“I’ve got great news! Gabriella’s going to be released. They finally know who’s responsible for those terrible murders.”
I tried to keep my face composed.
Walker gave a stagey chuckle. “Fiscalini caught the maniacs who’ve been murdering Gaby’s hotel guests? Pretty dramatic stuff for this little town. It was that Mexican gang—right? The whole north county—we’re infested with them.”
To my surprise, Silas nodded. “Yes. The gang problem is terrible.” He gave a smile. “But I guess they’ve had a confession and the Sheriff’s people are on their way.”
I sat in silent confusion. This seemed to mean that Walker was innocent, at least of the murders—and if I’d understood Alberto right, the guilty one was Rick after all.
I had so much not wanted to believe that.
“A confession? Who confessed?” Plant said.
“Some Guatemalan dishwasher. He confessed to bashing Toby with a frying pan,” Silas said.
“Santiago?” I half-laughed his name. Partly because I was relieved to hear it was not Rick, and partly because it was so absurd. Miguel said Santiago was threatening suicide, and I could believe that. The boy was so intense. But I could not see him murdering anybody.
“Alberto didn’t have time for details.” Silas said. “He told me this kid had given a confession to Rick Zukowski but the Sheriff hadn’t arrived yet. Unfortunately all available law enforcement is either dealing with the anti-grape people, or some crowd control problem down at the Maverick Saloon.”
“Rick got the killer to confess?” I took a long, deep breath. Rick didn’t join the gang-bangers; he communicated with them. So that’s what Alberto had been talking about when we spoke on the phone at the Saloon: Maybe Rick got the gangster to confess by bringing up his own gang past. And the gangster was apparently Santiago. Which didn’t sound right to me. The kid really was a dork.
But Rick was all right, as Mrs. Boggs Bailey would say. That was nice to hear.
Maybe Silas was wrong about the Guatemala part.
“Mean crowd at the Saloon tonight,” Walker said. “Good you got out of there, Dr. Manners. You and that little Mexican girl.”
Walker’s smile didn’t look so menacing now. Maybe he hadn’t taken Donna after all—and Walker and Duncan were just two innocent old gay men. Donna might be back at the Rancho right now, safe and sound.
Why had I believed a self-confessed blackmailer like Marva rather than these two polite, well-respected gentlemen?
“Walker and I need to get on the road ourselves,” Duncan said as he moved us toward the door. “We have a plane to catch.”
I followed Plant and Silas out to the porch.
“Are you going back to the Rancho now?” I asked. All I wanted now was to get out. If Duncan and Walker were innocent, the last thing I wanted was to rendezvous with the armed and dangerous Marva. “I’d, um, love a ride. I haven’t had a real drive in the new Ferrari.”
Plant gave me an indulgent smile. “I’ll give you a ride tomorrow, darling, after we’ve got Gaby out of jail, safe and sound, I promise. I think we should go to the county jail and make sure she’s being released.”
Silas opened the passenger door. “It’s a two seater anyway—a tough squeeze for just me. And you’d have to come back for your own car…”
He got in and closed the door with a thunk.
I gave Walker and Duncan a careful smile. “I’ll be off now, too. Have a wonderful trip!” I started on the path toward the helipad.
“Quite a hike back down to your car at the Maverick Saloon.” Walker’s voice was deep and menacing. “And I think you’ll probably need these…”
I turned to see him holding my pink and green Kate Spade keychain wallet—dangling it like a hypnotist’s pendulum.
Down in the road, the Ferrari lights faded from sight.
“My keys!” I gave a silly grin, trying to keep up the clueless façade. “Did Donna give them to you? I don’t think she knew my ID and cards were in there. She can be kind of scatterbrained…” I ran back to the porch and reached for the wallet
But Walker put it in his pocket. “Where are those letters, Doctor? Your little friend wouldn’t tell me, in spite of my, um, persuasion.”
My spine went cold.
“Donna—is she okay?”
Walker’s smile looked even more feral in the moonlight.
“Well, Dr. Manners, I guess that depends on your definition of okay.”
I glanced at the path along the house that led to the helipad and Marva’s car, trying not to think about what Walker might have done to Donna.
If I made a dash, would I be able to run in these stupid shoes?
I’d have to try. If I could make it past the tennis courts and the barn, I’d be out of sight of the house. If Walker went inside to get a gun, I might have a chance. And if he tackled me, I could probably fight him. He was big and mean, but I was a whole lot younger.
I wasn’t afraid of Duncan, standing over there under the porch light, looking as if he might burst into tears.
“Walker,” he said. “Do we have to do this? I think…”
“No, Duncan. You don’t think. You never do. That’s why we’re in this mess.”
“Me? You think this is my fault?”
“You. It’s always about you, isn’t it?” Walker turned on Duncan in fury.
I didn’t wait to hear any more. As the argument escalated, I ran along the path as fast as I could clomp. When I got past the stables, I saw a car out on the road, its lights off, moving slowly toward the house.
I ducked through a horse fence and onto the road. Running toward the dark car, I waved my arms wildly.
I had to pray it was Marva. Marva and her gun.
Chapter 52—Two-Gun Cowgirl
The car moved toward me and the door swung open.
“Inside!” Marva hissed “Where hell have you been? I’ve got to get these letters to Duncan before he takes off.”
I jumped in. I could hear moans coming from the back seat. I turned and saw Donna, her mouth and hands bound with duct tape. No signs of injury except that her clouds of perfume had been replaced by the incongruous smell of bleach.
“Untie the poor girl, will you?” Marva said. “I couldn’t take a chance on her making any noise until I got her out of that house. Is Wal
ker still up there with Duncan? Duncan doesn’t want Walker to know he’s buying the letters from me.”
“They’re up there arguing. You’re going to deal with those monsters?”
“How else am I going to get my money? Damn. Duncan made a big thing about not letting Walker know. But it can’t be helped. I’m not going to be able to get him alone.”
I reached between the seats and pulled the tape off Donna’s face.
“Are you hurt?”
Donna wailed.
“I’d be fine if you hadn’t just taken off a layer of my skin.” She felt her face. “I kept telling that old guy I didn’t know anything about any letters. He’s a total psycho.”
“I’m so sorry.” I reached through to pull off the tape that bound her wrists. “This is my fault, I’m afraid. I gave those letters to Luci with your manuscript by mistake.”
Donna wailed again. “Bitch! Then you should have been the one back there with a psycho geezer waving a gun in your face.”
She reached through the seats as if she was going to slap me.
“Sit down and be quiet, for God’s sake,” said Marva, “Or I’ll duct tape both of you. Keep out of sight until I finish my business with Duncan. Walker’s a guy to shoot first and ask questions afterwards, and I’m pretty sure he killed Toby and that kid. Luci too, for all I know. If he sees Donna, he could kill us all before he lets me explain I’m the one who’s got the goddam letters.”
“You’ve go them? So you’re the bitch! Screw you.”
I couldn’t blame Donna. She wasn’t at fault in any of this.
“You’re really going back up to that house?” I said. “When you know Walker’s a murderer?”
I couldn’t believe Marva had rescued Donna only to put her in danger again. Not to mention the two of us.
Marva gave a dramatic sigh.
“Of course I’m going back to the house. Duncan owes me twenty thousand dollars for these things and he’s leaving for Australia for like, a month. So scooch down on the floor and stay there. Once I’ve got my money, we’re gone.”