Kill Me If You Can

32

I looked at Brad. “Shouldn’t we call 9-1-1 or something?” I asked.

Doubt clouded his eyes. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with, then we’ll put in the call.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?” My shoulders sagged. Nothing had changed between us. It was just like last time. He hadn’t trusted me when I told him about the body in the cistern. Then, when he actually found a body in the cistern, he hadn’t believed me when I swore I hadn’t put it there.

He started walking. “I believe you.”

I passed in front of him in a straight line to Cupid’s Creek. A little while later I spotted my marsh marigolds and the clump of bushes, still beeping.

Brad paused and perused the rows of black bags that filled the clearing. “Nice,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.

He stared down through the top of the shrub at the victim’s face. “Do you know the guy?”

I shook my head. “Never saw him before.”

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number. I crouched by the babbling creek, not caring what he said or to whom he spoke. A few minutes passed. He joined me creekside, sitting close enough for our elbows to touch.

“So how have you been, Tish?”

I nodded, satisfied with how things had been going up until my recent discovery. A small brown bird fluttered to the opposite bank, picking at something in the dirt. I figured it wouldn’t be long before the turkey vultures descended on our friendly woodland corpse.

“Good. Good,” he said, nodding with me. “We haven’t talked in a couple weeks. I hope things are working out for you here in Port Silvan.”

“Yep. It’s all working out.” I gave him a poke on the arm. “I even have a job lined up, if you can believe it.”

“Really? Where’s that?”

“The same place Sam works. She’s supposed to train me. But”—I gave a sigh—“I must confess I haven’t felt much like waitressing the last couple days.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “I don’t really want to hang with Sam right now. She said a few things that hit home. I’m avoiding her.”

He sat quiet for a moment. “She really loves it up here. Says she’s having the time of her life.” He shot a glimpse of brown eyes my way. “Your cousin may have something to do with that.”

I smiled. “Joel has had the hots for Sam since the first time he saw her. I wonder where that’s headed?”

“Hopefully nowhere. Sam’s life is in Rawlings. I’d hate to see her make any foolish choices.”

I bristled. “Yeah. What a shame that would be, to leave the suburbs for a place where the air is clean and the water’s clear and people aren’t going around killing each other.”

Brad looked over his shoulder at the body. “Yep. That’d be a shame.”

I folded my arms around my knees. “Smarty pants.”

We fell into silence again. I suppressed a smile, every so often sneaking a glance in Brad’s direction.

He was here. I bit my lip to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. After that reunion, I couldn’t believe I’d been opposed to his visit. Maybe we were a tiny bit more than just friends. Big deal. Why had I been so worked up the past few days anyway? Now, sitting there next to Brad, mountains shrank to molehills and my world of woes drifted off with the water bugs darting on the surface of Cupid’s Creek.

Fifteen minutes passed before we heard the crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs. Brad stood to greet his state cop buddy from Manistique. They smiled, shook hands, and caught up on old times while the lab people collected data and snapped pictures. Then the two men approached me by the water’s edge.

“Morning, Miss Amble,” Officer Segerstrom said. “Brad tells me you’re having a rough day.”

“More like a rough millennium,” I said.

He nodded. “Tell me how you found the body.”

I gave him the spiel, trying not to stare as the team extracted the corpse from the shrub. My skin crawled as they laid the body in a zipper bag for removal.

Officer Segerstrom’s eyes never budged during my recitation. I knew he watched me intently, looking for clues that I might be lying or leaving out facts. Whatever. I rather hoped he did throw me in jail. Then I could avoid the topics that were sure to come up now that Brad was hanging around.

I finished my story. A few calming breaths helped ward off hyperventilation.

“Thank you,” the officer said. “I’ll keep in touch.” He turned toward the dead man, still exposed to daylight. “Now there’s a guy whose luck finally ran out.”

“You know him?” Brad asked.

The state cop gave a nod of affirmation. “I was at his bail hearing just the other day. I guess Drake Belmont shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to get out after all.”

My heart sank to my knees. I gulped. Drake Belmont. Of all people. And on my land.

Officer Segerstrom looked my way. “His death will certainly come as a relief to some, though I’m sure those kids are going to have a tough go of it.”

I gave a grunt of agreement, then glued my eyes to the patch of grass and weeds in front of me. Who could have done this thing? Sure, the guy threatened to kill Missy. But she wouldn’t have beaten him to the punch, would she? Or could Joel have been the one to take out the enemy? I squinted in thought. No. This seemed more Gerard’s style.

“Do you own a gun, Miss Amble?” Officer Segerstrom’s voice cut through my perusal.

“No,” I said, recollecting that I was the prime suspect, since I’d found the creep. The officer turned toward Brad and left me alone.

A little ways over, the long bag made a sound like a mournful bumblebee as the zipper closed. Two investigators lifted the body and removed it from the scene. The crew returned a few minutes later and scoured the area for more clues and, presumably, the weapon.

“Can I go now?” I interrupted Brad and Mike’s intense conversation.

“Sure.” Brad gave a nudge toward the lodge with his head. “I’ll meet you back there.” He looked toward his cop friend. “That is, if you’re done with her.”

“She’s free to go.”

I walked through the woods, running the list of suspects around and around in my mind. It could have been anybody. A good sprinkling of people would celebrate Drake’s death. And perhaps some of them were willing to secure it. But to have it happen so close to the lodge, with Missy and the kids within reach . . . I shuddered to think what would have happened if he’d made it to the house this morning, instead.

I felt eyes on me as I walked across the yard.

“You look rough.” Joel greeted me at the kitchen door. “Back from your walkabout so soon?”

I swept past him to the sink and ran my hands under warm water.

He followed me over. “Got a call from Papa B. He heard on the police radio that there was a possible homicide up at the creek. You know anything about that?”

“Drake Belmont got shot in the head.” My voice came out monotone.

Joel stepped back. “Well. That’s a twist I hadn’t expected. Wait until Melissa hears.”

I toweled off. “I’m sure the trooper will be here shortly to question everyone. I already got the third degree.” Heebie-jeebies ran down my arms at the memory of the murder scene. “Is there any coffee?”

With my self-imposed exile lifted, I treated myself to the meager comfort of hot, liquid caffeine. I sat at a stool without saying much of anything. Thankfully, Joel respected my silence. At my last sip, I set the mug down with finality. “I’m going to take a bath.”

The second-floor bathrooms had no showers, only old-fashioned claw-foot tubs with peeling paint around the outsides. I soaked in one, hiding my ears underwater so I couldn’t hear anything but the sound of blood whooshing and an occasional thump beyond the door. I had no plans of getting out anytime soon. I wanted to wait until someone else broke the news of Drake’s death to Melissa and her kids, even if it meant I suffered wrinkled-up prune-skin.

Several hot water warm-ups and at least an hour later, I finally climbed out and toweled off. I threw on fresh clothes and moseyed back downstairs.

Gerard was in the great room playing with Hannah and Andrew. Joel’s voice came from the kitchen, apparently deep in conversation on his cell phone.

“Hi, kids,” I said, smiling to cover any expression of pity that might show on my face. “Hello, Gerard. What are you still doing here?” His shift normally ended around six when Joel arrived.

“Melissa asked if I’d watch the kids for her this morning while she walked along the beach. When she got back a little while ago, she looked pretty wiped out. Said she needed a nap. I agreed to cover for her while Joel fixed some grub.”

I swallowed hard. “What time did she leave this morning?”

“Six, six thirty. Why?”

“Have you heard the latest?”

“No. Me and the kids were down at the lake until a few minutes ago.”

“Uncle Gerard buried me in the sand!” Hannah jumped up and down at the thrill of it. Sand sifted off her clothing and onto the floor.

“That must have been cold this early in the day.” I picked Andrew off the area rug and tickled him. “I’ll take over for a while so Uncle Gerard can go talk to Uncle Joel.”

Gerard left the room. A few minutes later the kitchen door opened and closed. Then all was quiet.

I could barely focus on Hannah’s stories of the beach. All I could do was pray Melissa hadn’t been anywhere near Cupid’s Creek this morning.