Ghosts Beneath Us: A Third Spookie Town Murder Mystery (Spookie Town Murder Mysteries Book 3) (29 page)

“You’re insane,” the man exclaimed, but there was nervousness in his eyes that gave him away. He seemed to reassess his options and blurted out, “No reputable corporation like Lansing would stand for such shenanigans, much less murder. They’re a Fortune 500 company worth billions. They’d never condone such despicable acts.”

That’s when Frank got it. The Lansing Corporation hadn’t ordered the crimes committed in their name, most likely weren’t even aware of them. It’d all been this man and his accomplice who’d thought up and carried out the horrible things that had been done. But why?

“No, that’s true, and a respectable company wouldn’t condone such criminal acts.” Frank had moved away from the sink and placed himself strategically near the door, now he edged in front of it. “You haven’t been doing any of them on their orders, have you? They were absolutely your idea or your partner’s. But why? Tell me that? Why are you tormenting and killing these people?” Yet Frank thought he already knew that answer.

Lethgrow had moved towards the door as well, but seeing Frank was blocking his exit, he stopped. “You are a real nut case, Stanus. I think our conversation is over. I’m leaving.”

“I hit the nail on the head, haven’t I?
You’re
doing these things, not the corporation, and without their knowledge? For money? Is that why? You’re ruining and snuffing out people’s lives for
money
?”

Lethgrow glared at him, his rage now barely controlled. “Who the hell are you, mister? You’re not the gullible simpleton you pretended to be when I first met you.” The man’s right hand went to his waist and slid under his suitcoat.

“I wouldn’t pull a gun on me, partner. You will regret it,” Frank cautioned. “And I have a confession. I’m not Frank Stanus; not Tina Thompson’s nephew, either. I’m Frank Lester. I’m a retired Chicago homicide detective who lives in Spookie and cares about its inhabitants. The old folks you hurt and killed were my friends. The cop you shot in the squad car was a friend. By the way, he’s going to live, though one less murder charge won’t matter. Four murders and an attempted murder on a police officer will send you both away forever.”

“If all this is true, aren’t you taking a big risk with your own safety, Frank Lester ex-cop?”

“Not really. I have my own weapon and I know how to use it. And I’m not here alone.”

Lethgrow’s eyes glanced upwards. “There’s someone else in the house?”

Frank nodded his head, shouting out, “It’s a beautiful day!” And a moment later Deputy Jacob Stevens was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his gun drawn and pointing at Lethgrow. He stepped forward and with his free hand took possession of the pistol Lethgrow had hidden in his waistband under his suitcoat.

“You can’t prove a damn thing,” Lethgrow taunted them coldly. “As far as you know I’m just an agent buying up land for my bosses.”

“I disagree. I’m pretty sure we can prove your illicit involvement and we will,” Frank assured him, “in time. We have a witness to your bomb burying and, I’m sure, if we dig deeper we’ll find more proof on the other offenses. Possibly finger prints on the bomb briefcase that will match yours or your partner’s or one of your shoes will fit the plaster cast impressions we got from the dried mud shoe prints down by Alfred Loring’s creek. Who knows, we might have enough evidence to send both you and your partner to the electric chair.”

Frank gestured at Deputy Stevens as he pulled out his own gun and lowered it at Lethgrow. “You can go get your car now Jacob, I’ll watch him until you get back. Then you can take him into custody and transport him down to the police station.”

The deputy left the kitchen and for five minutes or so Frank was alone with Lethgrow. He tried to grill the man, he asked him questions, but Lethgrow refused to respond, as he stood silently defiant, his face blank. Heaven knew what he was thinking: probably how to kill Frank and get the hell out of there. Frank wasn’t about to give him the opportunity, so his eyes never left him and the gun stayed pointed at his chest.

When Deputy Stevens returned he informed Lethgrow, “I’m placing you under arrest Scott Lethgrow.” Then he read him his rights.

Frank asked Lethgrow, “Where is your companion, Miss Smith, now? It’ll go easier on you if you just tell us. Before she commits another crime or hurts another victim.”

“I have no idea. We’re not married. She’s a liberated woman and goes where she wants to go, when she wants to.”

“She must have a cell phone. Call her and ask her to meet you here.”

“I’m not going to do that. Do I look stupid?”

“Have it your way.” Frank sighed and cocked his head at the deputy. “Jacob, you can take him to the station now for questioning. Sheriff Mearl is waiting for both of you. I’ll be there soon after. There are some things I need to check on first.”

Frank whispered sideways to the officer. “Watch him closely. Don’t let your guard down for a moment or he’ll escape.”

Deputy Stevens handcuffed Lethgrow and took him out to the squad car.

Frank was putting the key into the truck’s ignition when his cell phone rang.

It was Abigail. “Frank, you better get over here. I’m at Kate’s donut shop. I think, by your description of her, that woman you’re looking for is here right now.”

Frank was instantly alarmed. “What is she doing?”

“She’s talking with Kate at the counter and she looks irritated as hell.”

“We have her male associate in custody and he’s on his way to the police station. I didn’t know where she was, though, so this is good news. Keep her there if you can.”

“I’ll try.” Abigail hung up.

Frank drove at a high rate of speed to town. He had a lump in his stomach, his cop’s danger instinct was screaming again, and he only knew he needed to get there as soon as he could.

Chapter 15

Abigail and Myrtle

As Abigail dropped her cell phone into her purse she saw Myrtle coming into The Delicious Circle. Wasn’t she supposed to be in hiding at Frank’s place? That woman! With her eyes never leaving Kate at the counter arguing with the woman in the expensive looking gray suit, she got up from the table and went to head off the old lady.

“Myrtle, what are you doing here?” Abigail had taken her arm and guided her to the table where she’d left her coffee and a plate of Laura’s sugar cookies.

“Ooh, cookies! Can I have some?” Myrtle begged excitedly but her hand was already on one by the time Abigail said she could. “And I want some coffee, too. A big, big cup. With cream and sugar.”

“Answer my question. What are you doing here?”

Myrtle gave her a pout. “I was sick and tired of hiding out at Frank’s cabin. I got lonely. Hungry. So I thought I’d take a chance and come into town and get some donuts. Lucky me. You were here, too. Good thing as I forgot my money at home.”

“It isn’t safe for you here.” Abigail’s voice was sharp, her gaze still on the woman at the counter.

“Oh, I’m safe enough.” Myrtle’s eyes had zeroed in on the case of donuts behind her and her voice lowered to a whisper, “I brought one of Frank’s guns. It’s in my purse here.” She patted the brand new orange bag she had hanging from her shoulder. It clashed with the mauve checkered summer dress, also new, she was wearing. The dress was, as usual, a size too large and hung on her small bony frame. Her hair, sticking out everywhere, had a shiny children’s barrette holding it down on one side of her head. At least she didn’t have on any make-up, no cerise lipstick, which made her look somehow younger. She probably hadn’t gone shopping for cosmetics yet.

“You have a gun in your purse?” Abigail was stunned. “Please, please, say you have the safety on?”

Myrtle huffed, “Of course. I’ve known how to use a gun since I was a child. My daddy taught me when I was ten. Frank has such a large, excellent collection of them I didn’t think he’d miss just one. I picked the biggest one I could fit into my purse. A Colt Python. Beautiful weapon. This time when I come across those two bomb-planters I’ll be ready. I’ll shoot their butts off.” She chuckled and seemed pleased with herself.

Abigail stole another glance at the bomb-planting woman at the counter.
Oh, oh
. Wait until Myrtle sees her. Yikes, she could see the headlines now:
Crazed old lady shoots woman suspect in donut shop. Woman dead. Old lady in jail. Donut shop shot up.
That could
not
happen. Good thing Myrtle’s back was to the counter and she hadn’t seen who was up there. Not yet anyway.

“Keep that gun in your purse,” she hissed at her friend. “And don’t go shooting anyone, you hear? You don’t have a gun permit. It’s illegal.”

“But I–”

Myrtle didn’t have a chance to finish before Laura was at their table. “Hi Myrtle. What can I get you?”

Myrtle, swallowing the last of the cookie and directing a harsh glare at Abigail, mumbled, “A large coffee and three of those yummy glazed donuts. Oh, and a chocolate-covered cake donut, too, please.”

“Sure Myrtle. Going to get them now.

“And do you want anything else Abby?” Laura had her order pad open, her pencil poised, and a smile on her lips. She was a happy little worker bee. Her copper hued eyes were shining and her long hair was pulled back in a high ponytail so it’d stay off her neck. Outside the sun had heated up the earth to nearly eighty-seven degrees and it was warm in the shop.

“No, thanks Laura. I’m fine. I just need to say something to Kate.”

She swung around to Myrtle and grabbing and lightly pinching her hand, said, “I’ll be right back. There’s something I have to do. You stay here at the table…don’t leave. Don’t call attention to yourself, you hear?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Myrtle groused.

Laura scurried off to get Myrtle’s donuts and Abigail got up and worked her way through the customers and tables to the counter where Kate was still quarreling with the pushy brunette; the woman Frank wanted her to try and detain if she could. She had no idea how she would do that, but something would come to her, it always did.

“Ma’am,” Abigail sent Kate a conspiratorial look that she hoped said
play along
. “I would like another of those crème horns, please? I saw the girl you have waiting on the tables was busy so I thought I’d come on up and get it myself. You’re so crowded today. Business seems to be so good. You must be delighted.”

The woman in the suit beside her sent a casual glance her way–her pale shade of green eyes were arrogant and chilly–and that glance dismissed her as quickly. She wouldn’t know she and Kate were friends or Abigail hoped she wouldn’t.

Kate, with a return look of full understanding and relief, replied, “I am. It’s been better than I ever could have hoped for. The town’s embraced me and my donuts with open arms, er, mouths.” A nervous smile that had more than one meaning behind it and Abigail caught. “Another crème horn coming up.” She stepped away, moved down to the glass case furthest from her, and took a crème horn from it as the woman she’d been arguing with waited, drumming her polished nails on the counter, impatience on her lovely face.

When the crème horn was on a paper plate and Kate leaned over the case to hand it to her, Abigail turned her head so the woman couldn’t see and whispered near her friend’s ear, “Frank’s on his way. Keep her here if you can.” Smiling, she carried the crème horn back to the table.

“What’s up?” Myrtle wanted to know. “I saw you say something secret like to Kate. I see that woman who came to my trailer and helped plant that bomb up there hassling her. We should call the sheriff right now and have her arrested before she tries to blow this place up. She and her friend belong in jail.

“Or better yet, I’ll just shoot her in the legs so she can’t get away.” The old woman’s eyes were flashing with self-righteous anger, her small fist silently thumping the table; her other hand inching towards her purse.

“Shhh, you’re not going to do that, and keep your voice down,” Abigail told her. “Don’t you dare bring that gun out, either. I know who that woman is. Frank just called me and said he took her partner into custody. He’s on his way here now to get her, too. We’re supposed to stall her. Keep her here. So don’t make a fuss or let her see you. It might scare her off.”

Myrtle did something she rarely did. She did as she was told and fell quiet. She gave Abigail a thumbs up and devoured another cookie. She kept stealing looks behind her, though, her one hand lightly lying on her purse.

Laura brought Myrtle her donuts and coffee.

Abigail watched Kate at the counter with the woman. She was smiling now and so was the woman. Excellent. Kate was trying to keep the woman there. Probably telling her what she wanted to hear.
Well, perhaps you are right. Perhaps I will sell you my mother’s house. I do have this shop to care for. Donuts to make. How much did you say your company was offering? You do know the house is in need of a lot of repairs…
.

Abigail intercepted Kate’s look and, behind the brunette’s back, gave her the same thumbs up Myrtle had given her.
Frank please get here soon.
Should she call the sheriff herself and make sure they knew one of their suspects were at Kate’s shop? They could send out a squad car and an officer from right here in town.
Frank’s coming. Just hold on.

And that’s when it happened. The woman in the gray suit abruptly stopped talking to Kate, looking around and caught Abigail staring at her. A frown settled on her mouth. Then, without another word to Kate, she pivoted on her high heels and marched out the door.

Abigail jumped to her feet and dashed to the bakery’s front window. The woman was walking briskly towards a black Chevrolet across the street. No, she couldn’t leave. She’d disappear down the highway and escape. Again.

That’s when Myrtle came hurtling past her like a revenge banshee, out the door, and into the street. A gun held out before her in her hands.

Abigail was close behind. “Myrtle! Don’t!
COME BACK HERE MYRTLE!
”

The day had gotten even warmer and the sun above hotter. Abigail heard someone else coming in her wake and looked over her shoulder to see it was Kate. And Laura. Both of them had dashed outside to see what was happening. Laura was standing on the edge of the sidewalk, one foot in the street.