Dead Ends (Main Street Mysteries Book 2) (21 page)

‘Did anybody see the shooter or shooters?’

‘No, although this other homeowner had damage as well. Three brand-new front windows blown out.’

AnnaLise whistled, all the while feeling relief that perhaps the Griggs weren't solely the intended targets of the shooter. ‘Lucky we have just the one window facing the street.’

‘If everyone and their brother didn't have a gun, we wouldn't have all these shootings,’ Charity said.

‘Very true,’ said AnnaLise, remembering the police officer was not native to the High Country where people like Fred Eames considered fourteen weapons a modest cache. Speaking of: ‘Any word on Joshua Eames' prognosis?’

‘Much better than the girl he shot,’ Charity said dryly. ‘Looks like he's going to be just fine.’

‘Really?' AnnaLise was astonished, but relieved. 'I stopped by the hospital to see his dad yesterday and Josh was still unconscious.’

‘“Was” is right. He came to last night. In fact, the chief went right from your house over to the hospital, for all the good it did him.’

‘Josh wouldn't talk to Chuck?’ Maybe Fred Eames had taken AnnaLise's advice and hired a lawyer.

‘Oh, he'd talk, but what he told the chief isn't worth the paper it's written on.’

AnnaLise smiled at the expression. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, Joshua Eames says he doesn't remember a thing. Convenient.’

And, perhaps, true. After all, the young man had been shot in the head. ‘Is Josh under arrest?’

‘He is, and we'll most likely be transporting him to jail as early as this afternoon if all the tests come out clean.’

‘So soon?’

‘The gun must have slipped as he pulled the trigger and missed doing any real damage. Like I said, though, we'll know more later in the day. Well . . .’

Charity's voice signaled she was getting ready to say goodbye.

‘Wait, before we hang up,’ AnnaLise said hastily. ‘I meant to ask Chuck yesterday if he'd been right about the slug in Mrs Rosewood's tire. Did it match the weapon used at the Eames' place, like he thought it would?’

A silence. ‘Well, I could transfer you over so you could ask the chief himself –’

‘No, really. Don't bother him, I –’

‘– but since I just sent the information over to the press, I don't think there's any harm in telling you what little we know. As was expected, the slug was so damaged the only thing the lab can be certain of is that it's a thirty-ought-six.’

‘Is that the same caliber as the gun that killed her daughter?’ AnnaLise left out Joshua Eames, since Charity obviously wasn't a fan.

‘And most deer rifles you'll find around here.’

‘Deer rifle?’ AnnaLise looked at her cell phone like it was lying to her. ‘How in the world does someone shoot himself with something as long as a deer rifle?’

‘Simple. You take your sock off, put the rifle between your legs – butt end down, of course, barrel in your mouth – and use your toe to fire the weapon.’

‘You're kidding.’ AnnaLise was trying to picture how that might be done.
Without
picturing the result.

‘AnnaLise, we're of fairly short acquaintance,’ Charity said, ‘but of one thing you can be sure: I don't joke about something like this.’

‘Sorry, of course you don't. I'm just . . . and you're sure it was a hunting rifle because it was left at the scene?’

‘Correct. Right there on the floor next to its owner's son. And his discarded sock.’

***

AnnaLise slid the phone onto the table. Then she picked up the morning's
Charlotte Observer
and stared at it, before setting that back down, too.

Could she have been wrong? Had Joshua Eames killed Suzanne and then shot himself? The evidence seemed damning.

But . . . it
was
evidence, something a seasoned prosecutor like Ben Rosewood might know about. AnnaLise was trying to imagine the man she knew removing Josh's sock and shoe while the boy lay there –

‘“Dead end” – one word or two?’ Daisy swiveled from the desk.

‘Two,’ AnnaLise said.

‘Makes sense,’ Daisy said. ‘Otherwise it could be confused with “deadened.”’

‘That has an extra “e.”’

‘What does?’ Daisy was clicking away at AnnaLise's keyboard.

‘The word “deadened,” as in “the pillow deadened the sound of the gunshot.”’

‘Well, aren't
we
a ray of sunshine? And speaking of sunshine, maybe you should get outside and absorb some. You're pale as can be.’

‘What is today – Saturday?’

‘AnnaLise, you're too young to lose track of the weekly calendar. Today is Friday.’

‘It's from not working. Not being on a schedule.’

A phone rang and AnnaLise looked around.

‘Isn't that your cell?’ Daisy asked.

‘It is, but where's my purse?’

‘There.’ Her mother pointed at the bag on the chair next to the desk. ‘But it's the newspaper next to your coffee cup that's ringing.’

AnnaLise dug her cell phone out from under the
Observer
. The caller ID read: ‘Sutherton Auto.’

‘Hello?’

‘Ms Griggs. This is Earl, over at Sutherton Auto? I just got in a used car you might like to see.’

‘I'm sorry Earl, but I don't think I –’

‘It's Japanese, like your Mitsubishi, but the current model year. The owner is anxious to sell and will take any reasonable offer. I told him I'd broker the deal.’

‘Well, I –’

‘It's clean as a whistle or will be if you can give me an hour or two. We're usually closed on Fridays, but I'd be happy to stay until you get here.’

Closed on Fridays? Welcome to the High Country. Our slogan? ‘I'll do what I damned well please.’

AnnaLise looked toward her mother's back, hunched over the keyboard. She was busy working on the blog and AnnaLise did need a car.

‘Sounds good, Earl. I'll come take a look.’ She checked her watch. ‘It's ten-thirty and you said you need an hour to get the car ready to show?’

‘Better give me two,’ he said. ‘It's a beauty but was owned by a student and you know the kind of mess they can make. CDs, clothes, food – you'd swear the girl practically lived in the vehicle.’

The ‘girl’? And a student. It couldn't be. It just plain . . . ‘Earl, what kind of car did you say it was?’

‘I don't believe I did, but we're talking a Toyota.’

‘A Toyota Camry?’

‘Yes, ma'am. A new XLE with all the bells and whistles.’

‘It's red.’ AnnaLise's reply wasn't a question.

‘Barcelona Red Metallic, the manufacturer calls it,’ Lawling said. ‘But how did you know?

Because Suzanne Rosewood drove a red Toyota Camry.

‘Earl, I'll be right over. Meanwhile, don't start cleaning up – or out – that car.’

‘Don't –’ but AnnaLise had already broken the connection, grabbed the keys to her mother's Chrysler, and yanked open the front door to their apartment.

‘Love you, too,’ Daisy said, sounding more absent-minded than sarcastic to her daughter as she hit the sidewalk.

Twenty-nine

AnnaLise drove to Sutherton Auto, not knowing what she was going to do when she got there. She was sure what she'd find, though, and she was right.

‘This is Suzanne Rosewood's car.’

Earl Lawling whistled. ‘Good eye, though it's true that anything that's not a truck, an SUV or another four-wheel drive vehicle does stand out around here. You can be sure, though, that I did have every intention of telling you the previous owner met a violent death.’

‘Of course.’ AnnaLise didn't really believe that, but she didn't much care right now. ‘Her father is selling it?’

Lawling nodded. ‘What with all that's happened, he needs to tie up the loose ends here, then fly back north to make arrangements.’

‘Of course. So sad,’ AnnaLise said, with what she hoped was the right note of sympathy for the scumbag. ‘But with the Porsche totaled, how will he get to Charlotte/Douglas for his flight if he does sell this?’

The High Country was not Boston or New York, where you could flag a cab to the airport. Which, by the way, was between two and two-and-a-half hours away, depending on traffic. And weather.

‘He's taking one of my SUVs as a rental and leaving it at the airport tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?’ AnnaLise repeated. ‘That's quick.’

‘Like I said, the man's got multiple arrangements to make for both his wife and daughter's resting places.’

‘But what about the investigation – or investigations, also multiple? I'm surprised Mr Rosewood doesn't feel like he needs to stay until those are concluded.’

‘Well, hard for me to answer for the man, but I don't see things can get too much more “concluded” than they already are.’ Lawling opened the driver's side door. ‘Leather-trimmed seats. Nice, huh?’

‘Beautiful.’ replied AnnaLise. ‘But what do you mean about the investigation?’

‘Well, they already have the killer.’ Lawling shook his head sadly. ‘I've known Fred Eames for thirty years. He surely doesn't deserve the kind of sorrow he's seen.’

‘You're convinced Joshua Eames killed Suzanne?’

‘Not just me, but pretty much everyone from what I hear. And not just the girl. I stopped down at the police station to see how they were coming on that slug I pulled out of Mrs Rosewood's tire and the chief told me it could've come from the very same gun that killed the daughter.’

Earl Lawling swept his hand toward the car. ‘Why don’t you just slide on in? See how she fits you.’

AnnaLise complied. ‘Mr Eames told me that Josh'd lent that gun to someone.’

About to swing the door closed, Lawling froze. ‘How could that be? It was found right there next to the boy from what the chief told me.’

AnnaLise noticed there was no mention of the sock. ‘Maybe someone brought it back. Like the killer.’

Lawling gave a strangled laugh. ‘Sounds like someone's been watching too much television, though I'm not sure if it's you or Josh coming up with these wild theories.’

‘Josh's been unconscious, or he was until last night.’

‘The boy's woke up?’ Lawling apparently hadn't heard that news, at least. ‘Well then, if you're right, he should be able to tell the police what happened.’

‘Joshua Eames doesn't have any memory of that night, at least not yet. And even if he eventually does remember . . .’ AnnaLise decided to leave it there. Naming Ben Rosewood would not only be stupid, but might land her in a courtroom defending herself against slander charges on top of everything else. ‘Well, even if Josh says he does recall, who knows?’ she ended lamely.

‘Well, I certainly don't,’ Lawling said, dangling the key. ‘And sounds like you don't neither, so how about you take this little beauty out for a test drive?’

AnnaLise hesitated.

‘Multi-stage, heated front seats.’ Lawling reached down to push a button on the door side of her seat. ‘Plus eight-way power-adjustable driver's seat with lumbar support.’

AnnaLise's seat was undulating. ‘Ooh, nice.’ The car really did have everything, including a blue, glowing gauge cluster, navigation system and . . . ‘Oh, my Lord, is that a USB port?’

‘It surely is. I'm telling you, no expense was spared. That Mr Rosewood truly seems to have loved his daughter.’

AnnaLise wasn't so sure Ben loved anything or anyone, except himself. Still . . . she looked around. ‘I do need a car.’

‘And I'm telling you, the price is right. Mr Rosewood said that if you wanted it, he may be willing to negotiate. Might let it go for as little as sixteen.’

‘Thousand?’

Lawling looked offended. ‘This is the V-6, with only eight thousand miles on it. Fully loaded like it is, the vehicle would have fetched over thirty, thirty-five new.’

‘I'm sure it did, but I was really looking for something closer to . . . Did you say if
I
wanted it? Did Mr Rosewood ask you to offer it to me, specifically?’

‘Why, sure.’ Lawling hiked up his pants. ‘He remarked on your accident and I told him you were likely in the market for a car. He said this was a way of something good coming out of the tragedy.’

‘So Ben Rosewood had you call me?’ AnnaLise asked. ‘Why not do it himself?’

‘Well, now, this is only my opinion, but I think he was feeling badly about selling the car in the first place, though what with him having to leave and all . . .’

And all, being the operative part. Still . . . AnnaLise ran her hand over the leather covered steering wheel. Her Spyder's had been grubby tan plastic and sticky in places.

‘I suppose it couldn't hurt to take it for a spin.’ She held out her hand for the key. ‘Are you coming?’

‘I believe I can trust you.’ Lawling dropped the key-fob in her hand. ‘In fact,’ he pulled out his cell phone and checked the time. ‘I see it's nearly noon, and I promised my girlfriend I'd take her over to the outlet mall. If you don't mind, I'll ask you to park the car right here where you found it and drop the key in there.’

AnnaLise followed his index finger to a box on the wall next to the door of the sales office.

‘Wait. You're going to just let me take it?’ AnnaLise was looking for the ignition on the steering column. 'Don't you want me to leave my ID or charge card or something?'

‘Well, I'm fairly sure I know where to find you if you don't bring her back. Besides, this way you can take a nice long test drive and see what you really think without worrying about me back here waiting on you.’

‘All right, if you're sure.’ AnnaLise conceded. ‘Where's the ignition?’

‘Right there.’ Lawling pointed to a button on the dash.

AnnaLise looked at the fob in her hand which, now that she noticed, didn't have an actual key attached. ‘Ohh, this is one of those keyless ignitions.’

‘Not just that, but it's also a remote starter.’

Wait. ‘You mean in the winter I could stand inside at a window and start my car like on the commercials?’

‘Yup, as long as that window's not more than, say eighty feet away from your car.’ Earl seemed to sense he had a live one. ‘See, you just push unlock on this remote twice quick and then hold it down for three seconds.’

Voila
. Like magic, the Camry started.

Ben had purchased this scientific marvel for an eighteen-year-old? AnnaLise bought the Spyder – already rode hard and put away wet – when she moved from Sutherton. It hadn't even had remote
locks
, much less a remote starter.