A Crafty Killing (33 page)

Katie hurried to the back door, again wishing she’d had time to change the damned burned-out bulb over the back door. The man in the dark raincoat who peered up at her from the middle step was the last person Katie expected to see.

She unlocked the heavy wooden door, more annoyed than frightened. “What are you doing here, Gerald?”

“I followed you,” he said, brushing past her and entering the kitchen, dripping onto the linoleum.

“What for?”

“To talk—away from Artisans Alley. You’re too emotionally involved with that place. I hoped you’d be more rational in another location.”

Fat chance, Katie wanted to blurt out, but that would only support his argument. She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t have time for this right now, Gerald. I need to get home. Couldn’t we talk about it tomorrow morning? Maybe we could have brunch at Del’s Diner to discuss—”

“No! I want to settle this tonight. You’ve been obstinate and damned self-centered. You haven’t taken me into account in any of
your
plans. Uncle Ezra left me half the estate’s assets. Artisans Alley is only one part of it. I want what’s rightfully mine. I want—”

“You’ll get what’s rightfully yours, but you can’t have it now. My God, Gerald, Ezra’s only been in his grave four days. It’s going to take months, maybe even a year, before either of us sees any money. Can’t you get that through your thick head?”

Hilton glowered at her, a puddle forming around his wet shoes. “I’m running out of time. Can’t you see I’ve got to—”

He stopped, and suddenly it wasn’t greed that seemed to shine from the man’s eyes, it was something else Katie well recognized: desperation.

“You borrowed five thousand dollars from Ezra last year. Why?” Katie demanded.

Hilton’s eyes blazed. “How do you know about that?”

“I found the original agreement you made with Ezra. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I ... I hoped you wouldn’t,” he said, sounding embarrassed.

“Is that why you broke into Artisans Alley and ransacked Ezra’s office?”

Hilton said nothing.

“Paying back that five thousand dollars could help keep Artisans Alley in business.”

“I don’t have the money. I—”

“Of course not,” Katie shot back, her own anger getting the best of her. “You paid off your credit card debts, but you didn’t pay back Ezra. Instead you spent money on a new car.”

Hilton let out a breath. “I needed that car. I have to drive—”

“Where? To the nearest mall? Or how about a casino?”

“I don’t know where you got your information on me, Mrs. High-and-Mighty Bonner, but it sounds like you only got half the story!”

“Then why don’t you fill me in.”

Hilton tore his gaze from Katie’s, letting out a ragged breath as his anger dissolved. “You don’t bring up your children to be drug addicts—but it doesn’t take much experimenting before they’re hooked.”

Katie’s breath caught in her throat, as though he’d punched her in the gut. “Drugs?”

“Our HMO decided my daughter Miranda only needed two months of outpatient treatment.” Hilton’s laugh of derision sounded more like a strangled sob. “Seeing her so close to the edge—and being told they won’t do anything more . . . I did max out my credit cards. Do you think I would’ve asked that miserable old skinflint for cash if I hadn’t been desperate?”

“But you bought a new car,” Katie protested.

“My fourteen-year-old station wagon died. How else was I going to get to work?” Gerald pushed himself away from the stove, his eyes shadowed with misery.

“Why didn’t you tell Ezra you needed the money for your daughter?”

“My uncle believed drug addicts come from broken homes where there’s little or no parental guidance, but it can happen in any family. Miranda was an honor student—had never been in trouble—before her sophomore year.”

Oh dear
, Katie thought. No wonder Hilton had been in such a state.

Then Andy’s words came back to her:
“Don’t let anyone bamboozle you, Katie. Not Seth, not Gerald. Not Rose, not Tracy. Nobody.”

Was Hilton lying? Was he only giving her a sob story to gain her sympathy?

She studied Hilton’s eyes. No one could fake such desolation. “Ezra lost his only child—
your
cousin Ronnie. Didn’t it occur to you that he might have wanted to help your child?”

“When Ronnie died, Uncle Ezra’s compassion died with him. He wouldn’t have—”

“How could you know for sure? You never gave him a chance.”

“
You
didn’t know him like I did.”

Katie motioned him to follow her into the living room. She marched to the end table by Ezra’s chair, grabbed the photograph she’d returned to its frame only minutes before, and shoved it under his nose. “A man who lacks compassion wouldn’t keep pictures of his dead child on the walls and every flat surface to remind him of his loss.”

Hilton stared at the picture of his dead cousin, his eyes shining. “I never heard the old man speak of Ronnie after the funeral. He never let on that he—”

“What? That he missed his son? Oh, Gerald . . .” Instead of anger, Katie could only muster sympathy for the pitiable man in front of her. Her next news would depress him more. “I have some bad news. The motel offer has been rescinded.”

Hilton’s head snapped up. “You’re lying.”

Katie shook her head. “They’ve chosen another parcel of land midway between the new marina and the village. The deal will be completed by next week.”

“Who told you that?”

“Seth Landers. He said he’d be glad to talk to you about it, too. And by the way, it wasn’t the high-end Radisson chain that wanted the land—it was Motel Six, a lot further down on the hotel scale, and their offer was nowhere near a million dollars.”

Gerald paled, turning away. “My God, I’m ruined. I was counting on that money to help Miranda, to—”

“There are other options,” Katie said, “but selling Artisans Alley should not be one of them. Victoria Square is on the verge of a real breakthrough. It would be better for McKinlay Mill—better for you and me—to give it a fighting chance to survive. We could sell this house, the barn, and the acreage—they’ve got to be worth a couple hundred thousand at least—that would keep you afloat for a while. You can have it, Gerald. You can have all this. I won’t allow a child to suffer in order to keep Ezra’s and Chad’s dream alive. But let me try to make a go of Artisans Alley. Don’t you see, if I can bring it into solvency, it could be a constant stream of income for both of us.”

“I’d like to believe you, Mrs. Bonner. I—”

“Call me Katie.”

“Katie,” Hilton said, and for the first time there was no hint of animosity in his voice.

“Will you come back to McKinlay Mill tomorrow? We can talk this through. We should make plans for the future. There have got to be ways we can make this work—for both of us.”

For a long time Hilton said nothing. Then, grudgingly, “Okay.”

Katie offered her hand. “Partners?”

Hilton stared at it for a long moment. Finally he reached out, took her hand, and shook on it.

“How touching,” came a sour voice from the open doorway. Katie hadn’t heard the side door open, hadn’t heard the intruder come into the kitchen.

“It’s too bad neither of you will live to see a penny of Ezra’s estate.”

Slowly, Katie turned to face Ezra Hilton’s killer.

Katie eyed the intruder, apprehension growing within her. “Hello, Tracy.”

“What’s she talking about?” Hilton asked, looking puzzled.

“Yes, Tracy, why don’t you explain,” Katie said, sounding calmer than she felt. “You can start by telling us why you killed Ezra.”

Hilton’s eyes widened with alarm.

Katie glanced at a scowling Tracy. Her dark eyes were hard. Funny Katie hadn’t noticed that before.

“It would only be a waste of time,” Tracy said. Reaching into her denim jacket, she withdrew a snub-nosed revolver.

Katie looked at the barrel, then back to Tracy’s cold brown eyes.
Keep her talking
, she told herself. “Then why don’t I tell Gerald.”

“What do
you
know?”

“Quite a lot, it turns out. You left Andy for Ronnie Hilton, but Ezra broke you up. He didn’t think you were good enough for his son.”

“He didn’t think
anyone
was good enough for Ronnie.”

“But there was more to it than that, wasn’t there?” Katie asked.

Tracy glowered at her.

“Ezra knew you were trouble, because you’d been in trouble years before.”

Tracy said nothing, her grip tightening on the revolver.

“It wasn’t only Andy who got caught for wrecking Ezra’s car. He had an accomplice. The person Andy tried to cover up for. The person who actually drove the car that night. The one who smashed it up.”

Tracy’s lips curled into a snarl. “How would
you
know?”

“I worked in the insurance business for years. I know how to get information on past driving offenses.”

Tracy still said nothing.

“You killed Peter Ashby, too, didn’t you?” Katie asked, playing for time. “You already had keys to Artisans Alley—you took them from Ezra the night you killed him.”

“Ashby saw me leave Artisans Alley the night Ezra died—he tried to blackmail me,” Tracy admitted. “We made a deal. I’d give him money for his silence. I was to pay him the first installment on Thursday.”

“What did you do, ask Ashby to Artisans Alley—lure him to his own booth, then push him over the balcony rail?” Katie asked.

“He put up quite a struggle,” Tracy admitted, amused, the gun still trained on them.

“You’re going to kill us anyway, why not tell us the
real
reason you killed Ezra,” Katie demanded.

Hatred twisted Tracy’s pretty face into a grimace. “That creepy old man came after my mother! He wanted
her
money to save Artisans Alley. He asked her to marry him! She wanted a companion—a replacement for Dad. She
likes
older men,” Tracy nearly spat. “She was actually going to give him the money. Money
I
earned.
I
turned that business around. It was my efforts on the Internet that finally turned a profit for Tea and Tasties. Mom had no right to promise Ezra my money, and I wasn’t about to let him have it.”

“So you killed him.” Not a question—a statement.

“I would’ve done anything to keep him away from my mother and our assets.”

“But Ezra wasn’t your first victim. It started with Ronnie, didn’t it?”

“If Ronnie hadn’t been preoccupied by our break-up, he wouldn’t have gotten killed by that falling limb. Just because I happened to be there doesn’t mean I was responsible. That old man ruined my life once. I wasn’t about to let him ruin it again.” Tracy waved the gun. “Put your hands up.”

Katie and Hilton obediently raised their hands.

“Ronnie’s ‘accident’ wasn’t pure happenstance, though, was it?” Katie asked.

Tracy raised an appraising eyebrow.

“Did Ezra suspect you had something to do with his son’s death? Did he accuse you of being responsible for what happened to Chad, too?”

Tracy said nothing.

“Did you kill my husband?” Katie tried again, louder.

“What is your appeal with men?” Tracy asked with a sneer. “All Chad would talk about was getting back with”—her voice dropped to a simper—“his dear sweet Katie.”

“You stole the painting that hangs in your office,” Katie cried. “Was that before or after you threw yourself at him?”

Tracy’s glare smoldered, but she didn’t bother to refute either statement.

“You weren’t interested in Chad anyway. You only wanted to make Andy jealous. You knew Chad was living at Artisans Alley. You made sure Andy saw you cross the parking lot to visit Chad.”

“What of it?”

“So why kill Chad? Because he didn’t fall for you?”

“
Real
men pay attention to me,” Tracy stated. “Chad wouldn’t. And he had to pay.”

“But why get rid of us?” Hilton asked, panicked.

Tracy moved farther into the living room, her back to the bookcase, forcing Katie and Hilton to step back.

“I don’t care about
you
,” Tracy grated. “But now Katie’s got what I want—and I won’t let her have it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Katie said, confused.

“Andy.”

“Are you crazy? I only met him a week ago.”

“He likes you. Since our divorce, he told me he’d sworn off women. But he likes you. I saw the two of you in the pizza joint the night Ashby died, laughing, making eyes at each other. I’ve seen the way Andy looks at you—lusting after you.”

Katie had to restrain herself from laughing. “I helped him make pizzas because he was shorthanded. That’s all.”

“Liar!” Tracy brought the gun up in line with Katie’s chest. “If I can’t have him, I’m certainly not going to let
you
have him. So I called Ezra’s nephew and told him I was with the McKinlay Mill Town Development Association. I got him all worked up about how you were responsible for holding up the hotel deal, convinced him you were going to blow it for the whole town, knowing he’d confront you. I even told him he should get you on your own to talk.”

Katie shot a look at Gerald. “There is no McKinlay Mill Development Association.”

He shrugged. “How was I to know that?”

“I couldn’t believe it when Hilton actually showed up in Artisans Alley’s parking lot. I sat in my car and waited, then followed him straight here to you. Now I’ll arrange for a fitting end—for both of you.”

“What kind of end?” Katie asked, fear turning to panic.

“Murder-suicide. Everyone knows you two have practically been at each other’s throats. Dear sweet Rose has been telling half the town about it for days. Mom told me Hilton owes Ezra’s estate money he can’t pay back. Yes, I’ll make it look like he killed you—then himself.”