with Kyle Montgomery. Five of the deaths he believed were by the same killer. Bobby Battle and Kyle were not, he thought. Whether they’d been killed by the same person, he didn’t know. And now his life had been almost taken, and Michelle’s as well. There seemed to be an abundance of potential suspects and a dearth of clues. At every stage the killer or killers seemed to be one step ahead. They’d gone to see Junior, but the killer had gotten there first. Sylvia had told him about Kyle and the thefts and the lady at the Aphrodisiac. By the time they’d started investigating that, Kyle too was dead. Sally had come to tell him about her sexual encounter with Junior, and an attempt had been made on his life shortly thereafter.
He sat upright in bed.
Sally!
“Michelle,” he called out. The clattering was still going on. She obviously couldn’t hear him. He got up and staggered into the kitchen. His balance was still off. She was at the sink cutting up an onion and putting it into the blender, where a yellowish-green ooze currently resided.
She turned and saw him. “What are you doing up?” she said in a scolding tone.
“We have to check on Sally.”
“Sally? Why?”
“She came to see me last night with some important information. Right after she left, I went to sleep. That’s when my heater was messed with.” He told Michelle about Sally’s being with Junior on the night of the burglary.
“Well, that qualifies as a stunning development. And you’re afraid the person who tried to kill us might have seen Sally there too?”
“Nothing would surprise me with this guy. He always seems to know everything in advance.”
Michelle wiped off her hands, picked up her cell phone and called Todd Williams. She relayed a message to the chief and clicked off. “He’s heading over there with some of his men right now.”
“Maybe we should go there too.”
“The only place you’re going is back to bed.”
“Look at you: you’ve been shot, and you’re still assaulting eggs and knifing onions.”
“Just go get in bed. I’m sure Sally’s okay. Todd promised to call.”
King reluctantly did so. He supposed the odds were very long against anything having happened to Sally so quickly.
Savannah was beating on the door of the carriage house so hard her hands were starting to bruise. Dorothea finally answered the door in her robe. Savannah nearly fell inside.
Dorothea saw the terrified look on the woman’s face and said, “My God, Savannah, what is it?”
She pointed in the direction of the nearby stables. “I found… I found Sally. In the stables. She’s dead. Her head crushed. Oh, my God, she’s dead!” she shrieked.
Dorothea looked frantically around as though the killer might be hiding in her foyer. She raced up the stairs to the bedroom, where Eddie lay sleeping.
“Eddie! Savannah found Sally dead in the stables. Eddie!”
He lay motionless in the bed. She drew closer. “Eddie!” She grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently. “Eddie, wake up.”
All she got in return was a small groan. She checked his pulse. It was very faint, as was his breathing, terrifyingly so. She grabbed a glass of water off the nightstand and threw it in his face. This did nothing. She lifted his right eyelid. The pupil was a pinprick. The drug-savvy Dorothea knew what that meant. She picked up the phone and called 911, then she ran back down the stairs where Savannah was squatting right by the door, sobbing. She was dressed in her riding clothes, Dorothea noted, and her boots had left mud all over the foyer.
Todd Williams rose from beside the body and nodded. Sylvia came forward to examine Sally while the forensics team searched for clues. Chip Bailey stood next to the stable’s double door and watched the proceedings as Williams joined him.
“How’s Eddie?” asked Bailey.
“He’s still unconscious. I don’t know if he’s been poisoned or what. I don’t know what the hell is going on anymore. I mean, who would want to kill Sally and Eddie?”
“I didn’t think the girl had anything to do with any of this.”
Sylvia rose from the body after a few minutes and joined the two lawmen.
“Her throat was cut from ear to ear almost. The blood loss was horrific. Death would have been in a minute or so. And then her face was smashed to a pulp.”
“So you’re sure her throat was cut first?” asked Bailey.
“Yes. She was dead when the blows hit her.”
“Time of death?”
“No more than four hours or so. I did a rectal temp, and the minimal degree of rigor mortis substantiates that.”
Williams checked his watch. “So about five-thirty this morning.”
“Looks to be. There’s no sign of rape or sexual assault. Whoever killed her struck from behind and is right-handed. The throat slash was executed left to right.”
“And Savannah found her?” said Bailey.
“She was going riding and came upon the body,” said Williams. “At least that’s what I think she said. She was crying so hard I really couldn’t be sure.”
“And she went to the carriage house to get help?” said Bailey.
“It’s situated closer to the stables than the mansion or the house where Sally stayed,” pointed out Williams.
“And Dorothea answered the door, tried to rouse Eddie and then called for help.”
“Right.”
Bailey mulled this over. “So Dorothea and Eddie were in bed together. Dorothea was okay, but Eddie had been given some poison or other.”
“I haven’t taken a complete statement from Dorothea yet,” said Williams.
“I think you’d better.”
“No, what I think I’d better do is call Sean and Michelle,” said Williams. “They phoned about Sally this morning, before we got the call from Dorothea. They obviously know some things we don’t.”
CHAPTER
71
AS KING WAS WAITING FOR
the call from Williams, Michelle came in carrying a tray balanced in her one good arm.
He frowned at her. “I should be waiting on you.”
“Here, this’ll be good for you.” She arranged the tray and pointed out its contents. “My famous mega-power shake, dry cereal with sliced banana and as a little treat, low-carb bread with avocado spread.”
“What’s in the power shake? No, never mind, I don’t want to know.” He took a tiny sip of the shake and quickly put it down. “I think it needs to breathe a bit.”
“It’s not wine, Sean.”
“No, it’s certainly not,” he said firmly. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I never got around to asking why you were coming to my house so late last night.”
“Oh, damn, I forgot all about it. Billy Edwards, Battle’s ex-mechanic, called from L.A.”
King sat straight up. “What did he say?”
Michelle filled him in about the damage to the Rolls. Before she’d even finished, King was out of the bed and grabbing his clothes.
“What are you doing?” she asked in amazement.
“We’ve got someone to see, and fast.”
“Who?”
“Roger Canney.”
They arrived at Canney’s house only to find no one home. They peered in the darkened windows and tried all the doors, but they were locked. King noted the morning’s newspaper on the front steps. They were standing in the driveway when a man came by walking two large basset hounds—or rather, they were walking him.
“He’s not home,” called out the man, who was wearing a Maryland Terrapins basketball cap. “Saw him leave, oh, about two hours ago when I was doing my jog.”
King looked at his watch. “Pretty early.”
“He had some bags with him he loaded in the car. Guess he’s going on a trip.”
“Which car? Beemer or Range Rover?” asked Michelle.
“Range Rover.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“Nope. Blew out of here so fast he almost
ran me over.”
They thanked the man, climbed in Michelle’s truck and drove off.
“I’m going to call Todd and tell him to put out an APB on Canney,” said King.
“Sean, what’s going on?”
“Think about how Mrs. Canney died.”
“She was drunk and died in a car accident. But you suggested she might have been murdered.”
“Right. Murdered and knocked back into that ravine when her car was hit by a very heavy Rolls-Royce driven by Bobby Battle. Both events occurred about three and a half years ago.”
“You’re saying Bobby Battle killed Mrs. Canney. Why?”
“What if it wasn’t Roger Canney who first initiated a blackmail scheme against Battle? Maybe it was Mrs. Canney who threatened to reveal Battle as her son’s father, and Battle didn’t respond the way she’d intended or he got tired of paying. Then Roger Canney blackmails Battle over his wife’s death.”
“But how would Roger Canney have known Battle was involved in his wife’s death?”
“Canney might have known about his wife’s plan to blackmail Battle. Or it’s still very possible he came up with the scheme and his wife helped him put the screws to Battle. Then his wife is conveniently killed? He’s a smart guy. Even if he didn’t have actual proof of the murder, he’d put two and two together.”
“So he confronts Battle, tells him he knows he killed his wife and fathered Steve, and he wants money to keep it quiet.”
King nodded. “In seeking to avoid blackmail over an illegitimate child by killing Mrs. Canney, Battle ironically might have set himself up to be blackmailed for murder.”
“But wouldn’t Battle have realized that Canney had to reveal his complicity in the blackmail scheme if he went to the police claiming Battle murdered his wife? I mean, he’d have to give them some plausible motive.”
“He could simply use the fact of the illegitimate son. He could’ve claimed ignorance of any blackmail scheme or the source of any monies, blaming that on his dead wife.”
“Nice guy.”
“Yeah.”
“Looks like we spooked him into running.”
“Let’s hope he hasn’t run too far. We need him to fill in a lot of holes.”
Just as King was about to call Williams, the police chief called him. King told him what Sally had disclosed to him the night before, as well as his suspicions of Roger Canney and the man’s flight. Williams arranged for the APB and then asked them to meet him at the Battles’. He refused to say why or answer their questions about Sally.
King slumped back in his seat with a hopeless expression. She’s dead.
CHAPTER
72
WHEN THEY ARRIVED AT
the Battles’, Williams and Chip Bailey led King and Michelle to the stables. On the way Williams broke the news about Sally and what had happened to Eddie. King turned pale and put a hand against a section of fencing. Michelle wedged her good arm up under his.
“Just take it easy. We don’t need you going down too.”
“The knife used to kill Sally was taken right off the Peg-Board inside the stables and was dropped at the crime scene,” Bailey told them. “Same thing with the rake. Sylvia just left, but she said death would have been pretty fast.”
“Can we see the body?” asked King.
“It’s not pretty, Sean. If I were you, I wouldn’t,” replied Williams.
“I need to,” said King firmly.
Williams reluctantly led them inside and over to Sally’s corpse.
“My God,” said Michelle.
“It was like the killer was furious at her about something,” said Williams. “Just kept on beating her in the head.” He looked at King. “Maybe Sally knew more than she was telling.”
“Maybe,” said King slowly as he pulled his gaze away. He stood solemnly outside the stables and watched as Sally’s body was carried out in a black pouch.
As the doors on the ambulance clunked shut, he turned to Williams. “This was my fault. I forced her to tell me the truth and never even thought she might be in danger because of it.”
“You were fighting for your life, Sean,” countered Williams. “You didn’t really have an opportunity to think about anything else.”
“How’s Eddie doing?” asked Michelle.
Bailey answered, “I just called the hospital. They said he’s still unconscious but out of danger.”
“Do they know what it was yet?”
“No. I was going to drop by the hospital later, if you want to come along. Right now I intend to talk to Dorothea again. And after that, Savannah, although I hear she’s a wreck.”
As they walked along, Williams turned to King. “If this thing pans out on Canney, I’m going to owe you one. I never would have picked up on that.”
“That’s just one piece of the puzzle, Todd,” replied King.
Dorothea met them at her house. She looked pale and drawn. While Williams, King and Michelle offered words of commiseration, Chip Bailey volunteered no such niceties. He looked at her with a mixture of anger and determination. They stepped around the muddied sections of the entryway and went to the living room.
“What time did you and Eddie go to bed?” asked Williams.
“About half past midnight. He’d been out in his studio working. But we didn’t go to sleep then. Not until about an hour later.” She smiled in an embarrassed fashion. “I didn’t think that possibly being implicated in a murder could do so much for one’s sex life. But Eddie’s been wonderful throughout this ordeal.”
“A good man is hard to find in times of trouble,” said Michelle tightly.
“I’m starting to realize that,” she answered with surprising sincerity.
Bailey broke in. “He was drugged, Dorothea. I’ve talked to the doctors at the hospital, and they said he’s under the influence of some powerful narcotic.”
She suddenly looked frightened. “That’s what I can’t understand. I… I have to tell you that when Savannah started banging on our door, I woke up in a total fog. I still don’t feel quite all together.”
Bailey looked at her suspiciously and said, “You didn’t mention anything like that when we came by this morning.”
Dorothea spoke quickly. “Everything was happening so fast. Savannah was a mess, Sally was dead and I couldn’t wake Eddie. God, it was all like a nightmare.”
“What time did Savannah come to your door?” asked Bailey.
“A little past eight. I remember looking at the clock in the foyer.”
“What did Eddie have to eat or drink last night?”
“We had dinner, nothing unusual. Some wine after dinner, and then he went to his studio to paint and I did some paperwork in my home office.”
“Can we see the leftovers from the meal and the bottle of wine?” asked Bailey.
“There weren’t any leftovers. I think the bottle of wine is around here somewhere.”
“I’d appreciate if you could show me where it is before I leave,” said Bailey.
Her features became defiant. “What exactly are you trying to prove?”