Hit and Run (28 page)

‘Sevenish?' The fitness trainer scrunched her eyes closed. ‘Sheree said she was in the kitchen making breakfast when Debbie popped in and told her she was popping out.'

‘So,' AnnaLise said, ‘if Debbie made the call from here at five fifty-seven a.m., then—'

Joy took it up, ‘She could drive to the inn, sneak in, pack up and be saying goodbye to Sheree by seven, no traffic and no problem.'

AnnaLise stood and took a self-satisfied gulp of her Scotch. It still tasted awful, but the budding warrior princess resolved not to show it. ‘I'm going to tell Coy and Charity.'

‘It's a great theory,' Patrick said into his own drink.

AnnaLise waited. ‘But?'

He looked up. ‘I'm sorry. No, your version hangs together pretty well, so far as I can see. Only … maybe you've already “told” the police more than enough before consulting with a criminal defense attorney.'

Joy nodded. ‘I agree. Why give the Pitchfords time to pick apart your theory?'

‘When do you want to spring it on them?' AnnaLise asked. ‘The penalty phase of my trial?'

Joy frowned again. ‘Girl, I liked you better when you were wallowing in self-pity.'

The master suite was still taped off, but there was no sign of any uniforms. AnnaLise checked the media room next, only to find it deserted, too. In the Lake Room, though, she saw Sugar Capri lounging in an overstuffed chair near the fireplace, newspaper in her lap and pen in her hand.

It took a moment for AnnaLise to realize that the other woman – in so many meanings of that phrase – was working on a crossword puzzle. ‘Have you seen Charity or Coy?' AnnaLise asked.

Sugar looked up, looking bewildered. ‘I'm sorry. Who?'

‘Of course. I should be the one apologizing. You'd have no way of knowing the first names of the Pitchford officers are Coy and Charity. They're husband and wife.'

‘The two police officers who've been here? I did think it was weird they had the same last name on their uniforms, but I didn't give it much thought, given the … circumstances.' Tears threatened, but she seemed to try to rally. ‘Must be nice having a spouse in the same business. Or … any spouse at all.'

The rally hadn't lasted long. AnnaLise settled on the arm of an adjacent chair as tears brimmed in Sugar's eyes. ‘Lacey told me that her dad was dead. I'm so—'

‘Oh, we weren't married.' A flush of color actually rose in Sugar's cheeks, and AnnaLise had to remind herself that this ‘elder' Capri was only a little older than she was. ‘Suppose I shouldn't admit it so freely in nice company like this.'

‘I don't know how “nice” it is,' AnnaLise said. ‘After all, somebody did kill our host.'

Sugar's face dropped again. ‘I'm so sorry about Dickens. I … well, kind of hoped we could maybe get together again.'

AnnaLise studied her face. ‘You didn't hold what he did against him?'

‘You mean me being so young? No, that wasn't his fault. I flat out lied to him. To everybody. He wasn't even my first, you know.'

AnnaLise hoped her internal shock didn't show. ‘Still—'

‘There is no “still.” Nor “ifs,” “ands” and “buts,” neither. Dickens Hart never treated me with anything but kindness. Bought me clothes and—'

‘How did Dickens find out you were underage?' AnnaLise interrupted back, not wanting to hear where the ‘schoolgirl' skirt and thigh-highs might have come from.

‘Boozer Bacchus saw that my driver's license wasn't … well, it wasn't mine,' Sugar said. ‘That man never did like me much. Or Joy, though with her I could understand it.'

‘Dickens and she being married and all.' AnnaLise was trying for deadpan.

Sugar plucked at the paper in her lap. ‘You know, that's the thing I
do
regret, looking back. It's not right sleeping with a married man, especially in his and his wife's own bed. But Dickens was just so handsome and I was a teenager, head-over-heels in love with him. Nothing else seemed to matter.'

‘Mom?' Lacey Capri's head snuck around the corner. ‘Oh, hi, AnnaLise.'

‘Did you need your mother?' the journalist asked, hoping the girl hadn't overheard. ‘I was just leaving.'

‘No, don't do that,' Lacey's smile was nearly maternal, like she was happy her mom was making new friends. ‘I just wanted to say I was back from my walk and going up to take a bath.' She shivered. ‘It's getting cold out there!'

Sugar nodded. ‘Just be out before I need to get ready for dinner, you hear? No two-hour soak.'

‘I hear.' A giggle and the head disappeared.

Her mother smiled. ‘You should have heard Lacey when we got here. “Mom – he's
ancient.
”' Sugar did a credible imitation of her daughter. ‘But … there was always something about Dickens Hart. It'll sound silly, you knowing all you do, but the man made me feel safe. Lacey and I, we haven't had a lot of that lately.'

A tear escaped from one eye and slid down Sugar Capri's cheek.

Leaving the Lake Room, AnnaLise nearly collided with Joy.

‘Let's go.' Joy held an oversized yellow slicker that matched the one she was wearing.

‘Go where?'

‘Don't be dense. To Bradenham to talk to Roy Smoaks and find out what he might have seen.'

‘I want to catch Coy or Charity first.'

‘You can spring your theory on them when we get back. Maybe you'll have more to tell.' She held out the jacket.

AnnaLise took it, but let it dangle from one finger. ‘This is damp. And it isn't mine.'

‘And this lovely number isn't mine, either.' She did a pirouette, rubberized fabric billowing around her. ‘I grabbed these from the rack at the back door to save us time.'

‘But I have a jacket.' AnnaLise tried to hand the slicker back. ‘I'll just get it.' She paused. ‘Or did I leave it in the car?'

Joy looked skyward. ‘Will you put the damn thing on so we can get started?'

‘What are you in such a hurry for?' AnnaLise protested as she slipped on the coat and followed the diminutive force of nature through the deserted kitchen and into the back hallway. Then AnnaLise put on the brakes. ‘Wait. You think they're going to
arrest
me.'

Joy opened the back door and tugged her through. ‘So what? Even
you
think they're going to arrest you.'

AnnaLise raised the hood of her slicker against the wind. Lacey was right about the temperature. Late November in the High Country was always quirky and now there was definite moisture in the frigid mountain air. ‘Are we walking?'

Over her shoulder, her friend responded, ‘You kidding?' Then Joy strode to her BMW and unlocked it. ‘It's miles.'

‘And miles,' AnnaLise echoed as she got into the passenger seat. ‘But then why did we have to don these?' She plucked at the slicker.

‘Just how long did you live in these mountains?' Joy asked, starting the car. ‘The weather changes in an instant so you go nowhere – not even the grocery store – without the proper layers. If you don't want to wear it, put the thing in the back seat.'

‘No, it's fine.' AnnaLise stayed silent as Joy backed the BMW out from between a pair of SUVs. When they were gliding down the newly re-surfaced driveway, she finally said, ‘We should think about how we're going to do this.'

‘I already have.' Joy stopped at the end of the long drive, then turned left. ‘You hold him down and I'll beat him with a rubber hose.'

Rubber hose? And Joy called AnnaLise a throwback. ‘Why are you going counterclockwise instead of clockwise around the lake?'

‘Same distance and these roads are better. Besides, we don't have to go through town where somebody could see us.'

AnnaLise stared at her. ‘Honest to God, you're scaring me.'

Joy shrugged. ‘Just being cautious. Now, what's your plan?'

‘I guess we'll have to play it by ear.' The journalist didn't remind her friend that this little excursion had been her idea. It was like talking to a rock.

A yellow, rubber-covered rock.

‘My, my – these days it's against the law to own binoculars?' Roy Smoaks asked mildly.

‘If it were we'd have sicked the Pitchfords on you,' said Joy.

The four of them – Smoaks, Bobby, Joy and AnnaLise – were in the living room of Bradenham. Its windows, not nearly as large as those of Hart's across the way, still provided a magnificent view of the lake.

Bobby Bradenham had taken their damp slickers and hung them on a rustic hat rack. Then he moved a pizza box from a couch cushion so the two women could sit. The coffee table in front of them was littered with chip bags and beer cans.

Now Bobby held up his hands. ‘Let's not snipe at each other, all right?' He turned to AnnaLise. ‘What exactly is it that you're asking?'

She shifted uncomfortably. ‘Honestly, I'm not sure. As you're both certainly aware by now, Dickens Hart was found dead yesterday morning.'

Bobby nodded. ‘I'm very sorry about that, AnnaLise. I should have called you.'

‘That's OK,' she said. ‘I'm sure you've been' – a glance at Smoaks, as the man dropped his sorry butt aggressively into a delicate armchair – ‘busy.'

‘Not quite as busy as you folks.' This from Smoaks, who lifted his muddy boots to the corner of the coffee table, dislodging one of the chip sacks onto the floor.

The comment reminded AnnaLise of something Smoaks had said the day before. Actually, two things. ‘I know you shot out Dickens' window.'

‘Now how would you know that? It could have been anybody.'

‘I “know that” because of what
you
knew that I didn't tell you. You said it was likely a hunter getting in his “last hurrah” before the sun went down.'

‘So?'

‘So, how did you know the window was shot out at dusk?'

For the first time, Smoaks looked uncomfortable. ‘Maybe I saw it. I do have those binoculars
you
keep harping about.'

OK, time to move on to item two: ‘What's “kerplunk”?'

Bobby looked surprised. ‘Kerplunk? I've never heard of it.'

But AnnaLise's attention was on Smoaks. ‘You also said yesterday that “we folks” were early risers and asked if I'd been playing “kerplunk” at the pier. I assumed it was a game like skipping rocks. But it's not, is it?'

‘Well, now, I was just making polite conversation.' Smoaks grin was wide enough to expose his gold tooth. ‘You know,
kerplunk
. Like “splash”?'

‘The sound of somebody tossing something into—' Then it struck AnnaLise. Maybe the bottom of the lake was, indeed, where the missing overnight bag lay.

‘Who was the somebody?' Joy contributed. ‘And the something?'

Smoaks linked his hands in the air above his head and stretched, letting out a crisp fart in the process. ‘Now
that
I reckon I can't answer.'

‘What's wrong?' Joy waved vigorously at the air in front of her nose. ‘Aren't your spy-glasses strong enough?'

‘Oh, no, they're high-powered all right.' A lecher's smile. ‘Just like me. Problem is, though, I heard the kerplunk, but she was turned away from me by the time I got the lenses focused.'

AnnaLise felt hopeful. ‘So, it was a—'

Smoaks lowered his feet to the floor. ‘Broad? Think so, less'n it was a shrimp of a swinging dick.'

AnnaLise considered both the answer and the source before asking simply, ‘Notice anything else? Build? What she was wearing?'

‘Now, much as I appreciate giving a comely woman the once-over,' Smoaks said, leering at both of them and getting to his feet, ‘I can't say much about this particular one.'

‘Can't or won't?' Joy looked like she wanted a reason to deck the man.

‘Can't.'

‘Why not?' Bobby looked puzzled.

‘Not that I don't want to, Grandson of Mine.' Smoaks picked up one of the beer cans with his right hand and shook it. Finding the thing empty, he crumpled it with one impressive squeeze. ‘Cuz'n she was wearing one of those.'

He tossed the can at the hat rack and it bounced off a yellow rubber slicker. ‘Score!'

‘I
don't see it.'

Joy put her hand out to steady AnnaLise, who was hanging off the ladder of Hart's Head's fishing pier, scrutinizing the water below. ‘You're sure this is where Smoaks meant?'

‘He said a figure in a slicker dropped something – “kerplunk” – into the water at the end of the pier. Given our clear, spring-fed lake here, I can see all the way to the bottom. And there's nothing.' Despair was rising in her voice. ‘Certainly not a bright floral bag.'

‘Maybe Smoaks is lying.'

‘There is that.' AnnaLise scaled the top two rungs of the ladder before swinging herself up and onto the pier. ‘This would be so much easier if we could pin the whole thing on him.'

‘We'd also have to tie him to Debbie or somebody else in the house,' Joy reminded her, still staring down at the water. ‘Maybe the person didn't weigh the bag down and the waves took it away.'

AnnaLise brightened. ‘That means it'll eventually show up on the beach across from Mama's restaurant.'

‘That's the spirit,' Joy said. ‘Or … maybe the woman did weigh it down but heaved it as far as she could, and we'll need a scuba diver to find it.'

Back to bleak. ‘In near-December water temperatures?'

‘They must have suits for that, right? I mean, they go after stupid ice fishermen who “kerplunk” themselves during the season.'

‘Yes, but if the diver scours the lake bottom within “heaving” range and comes up empty?'

Joy said, ‘OK, voice of gloom and doom, let's go back inside. I'm getting the creepy-crawlies.'