Plaster and Poison (27 page)

Beatrice paled.
“Derek will never believe that,” I said, but I have to admit that my voice was a little less sure this time.
Melissa gave a lovely little laugh. “After five years of being married to him, I’m pretty well versed in exactly what Derek will believe and exactly what I’ll have to do to make him believe it.”
My face twisted. Melissa smiled sweetly—she’d been waiting for just that reaction—before she turned to Mary Elizabeth. “Now, Mary dear, if you’ll just give me the gun . . .” She reached for it.
Mary Elizabeth pulled it back. “Why?”
Melissa’s voice was reasonable, although a tiny wrinkle formed between her eyes. “Because you must be here, dear, when the police arrive. It won’t do for you not to be home. You’ll have to explain that Avery and Rosemary have already left. After telling you that they thought they knew where Beatrice was. If
you
have to stay here,
I’ll
have to take them away. And for that, I need the gun.”
Mary Elizabeth wavered. Melissa’s argument made sense. It was just that Mary Elizabeth didn’t want to relinquish it.
“Can’t you use another firearm?”
Melissa did an eye roll. “I don’t carry a gun, Mary Elizabeth. And there’s no time to go home and get Ray’s. Now don’t be silly . . .”
She made a snatch for the gun. Mary Elizabeth yanked it back, her eyes narrowing. Out in the hallway, something scraped.
“I think that’s our cue,” Reece Tolliver’s voice said. The next second, he and Wayne both appeared in the doorway. “Put the gun down, Mrs. Stenham.”
Mary Elizabeth stared at them for a second. Then she turned to Melissa. “You sold me out? You little hussy! I never did think you were good enough for my Raymond!”
And then, whether by sheer rage or simply because she forgot she had it, she squeezed the trigger on the gun and pumped a bullet straight into Melissa.

Things went a little haywire after that. Melissa crumpled onto the floor. The recoil from the shot knocked Mary Elizabeth onto her elegant fanny, as well. She also dropped the gun, as if it had turned red-hot in her hands. Maybe it had; I’ve never had occasion to find out. Reece Tolliver swooped in and scooped it up while Wayne yanked Mary Elizabeth to her feet. She was keening like a banshee the whole time he handcuffed her wrists behind her. “You have the right to remain silent,” he began.
While all this had been going on, footsteps had been thundering up the steps outside and through the front door into the hall. They sounded like a herd of buffalo, but when they skidded to a stop in the doorway, they resolved themselves into just Derek.
He took in the situation at a glance; when you spend a rotation in an ER you probably learn to triage well. Blue eyes glanced off me, off Mom, off Beatrice—he showed no surprise, so he must have expected to see her—and determined that we were all upright and unharmed, even if we were huddled together like three sheep, crying and shaking. Then he looked down at Melissa, and paled. For a second, I saw shock and horror in his eyes, before he bit it back. He fell to his knees beside her. “Melly? Can you hear me? You’re gonna be fine. Just stay with me.”
Melissa’s eyes were glazed with pain and her lips pinched, but she managed to lift her eyes to his, and his presence seemed to calm her a little. “Guess I got hit,” she muttered, glancing down at her left shoulder, where a bullet hole oozed blood. It made me a little woozy to look at it, honestly, although I told myself that oozing was probably good. Pulsing would be bad; that’d mean the bullet had nicked an artery. But oozing didn’t seem like too big of a deal.
“I need a compress,” Derek muttered. He had already shed his coat, but it wasn’t suited for soaking up blood. I offered him my knitted scarf, but he shook his head. “Too fuzzy. This’ll be better.” Hurriedly, he yanked the plaid flannel shirt over his head, followed by the T-shirt he wore under it. The latter he wadded into a ball, and pressed it against the wound in Melissa’s shoulder. She sucked in her breath and turned a shade paler, which was something of an accomplishment right then. Still, after a second her eyes fluttered open and the corners of her mouth turned up. “Am I dying?”
Derek’s voice was rough. “You’ll be fine. I just have to slow the bleeding until the paramedics get here.”
Behind me, I could hear Reece Tolliver on the phone with the 911 operator, explaining the situation.
“Thought I must be,” Melissa murmured, through colorless lips. “Never figured I’d see this again.” She lifted her other hand, sluggishly, to brush over Derek’s chest.
Derek choked back a laugh—I’m pretty sure it was a laugh—and Melissa’s eyelids lowered. When she was no longer looking at him, Derek’s lips compressed into a tight line. The white T-shirt was slowly becoming saturated with bright crimson blood, and I could see the muscles in his arms stand out as he concentrated on keeping the fabric pressing down on the wound.
“I’ll go get some towels,” I said, and forced my legs to move out of the room and up to the second floor, where I gathered up all of Mary Elizabeth’s fluffy white towels and headed back downstairs again, arms full.
Downstairs in the parlor, everyone was now standing around Melissa, watching Derek. Mom and Beatrice were huddled together, still clutching one another, while Wayne had marched Mary Elizabeth out to the squad car. I could see them through the window. Her lips were moving, although I’m not sure whether she was reaming him out or making a full confession, or maybe just muttering to herself.
Melissa looked in bad shape: deathly pale, colorless all the way to her lips, and her lovely face didn’t look so lovely now, pinched with pain. I fell to my knees next to Derek.
“Here. I emptied the linen closet.”
He glanced at me, eyes warming for a second. “Thanks, Avery. You OK?”
“Fine. Just shaken up. Let me know what you need.”
“I can handle this,” Derek said, relieving me of the fear that I’d have to do something to save Melissa’s life. Not that I wouldn’t have done what I could if I had to—she had saved mine—but I felt inept. “Take a couple of the smaller towels and fold them into a pad. Quickly, please. This is soaking through.”
I nodded, my hands shaking enough that it was no easy task. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Derek pushed the sodden T-shirt aside and slapped the towel on Melissa’s shoulder in its place. I closed my eyes, but not quickly enough to avoid a rather more in-depth look at the bullet wound than I had wanted.
“Gack!”
“Sorry, Tink.” He glanced over, with a faint smile. “It isn’t bad, really. I’ve seen a whole lot worse. The bullet probably hit a bone inside and stopped, since she’s not bleeding from the back. The paramedics will get the bullet out and then bind it and treat with some antibiotics, and she’ll be fine. They’ll probably keep her overnight and let her go home in the morning. She won’t be able to lift her arm over her head for a while, but with time, she’ll be just fine. Except for a battle scar.” He lifted the pad and assessed the blood flow. “It’s slowing. And here are the paramedics.”
Outside, the sound of sirens was coming closer.
“I love you,” I said, impulsively.
He looked over at me, startled, and then he smiled. “I love you, too. Let’s talk more about that later, OK?”
“OK,” I said and sat back as the ambulance pulled to a stop outside.

Epilogue

“I really like that dress,” Derek said, for what was at least the third, if not the fourth, time.
It was a couple of weeks later, New Year’s Eve to be precise, and we were celebrating the occasion, as well as Kate and Wayne’s nuptials, which had taken place earlier in the day.
The ceremony had gone off without a problem, as such things should. Kate had looked radiant in an oyster white satin dress with a matching jacket. It bore very little resemblance to a wedding gown, but it made her look like something out of a Golden Age Hollywood movie. Marilyn Monroe in
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
, or maybe Rita Hay-worth in
Gilda
, considering Kate’s flaming copper curls. Noel would have been impressed, anyway, but alas, he and Mom had gone back to California. Noel had still been sniffing into his handkerchief at that point, his nose red and sore, and I didn’t think the chances of getting him back to Maine for a visit were very good. At least not in the winter. He had invited us to California any time we wanted, though, and we were thinking about making a trip.
Mom had had a good time while she was here, scary incident with Mary Elizabeth and Melissa notwithstanding, and she and I both cried when we said good-bye at the airport. I had driven her and Noel back to Boston in my new car, and I had managed to look suitably surprised when they gave it to me, as if I’d had no idea it was coming.
Melissa had survived her encounter with the gun, just as Derek had promised, and had come out on the other end still kicking. She was actually here tonight, looking almost like her usual self in a lovely silk dress in her signature creamy color. I guess no one ever told her that wearing white to a wedding—even a second wedding, and even if the bride is wearing oyster—isn’t proper. Not that anyone could really upstage Kate tonight, but Melissa gave it her best shot. The dress fit her like a glove, with a gossamer sort of jacket over the shoulders, which managed to hide Melissa’s war wound while simultaneously making her look like a million bucks. Of course it screamed money and exquisite taste, and Melissa, in true Melissa style, had looked down at me along her elegant nose, curling her lovely lip, and told me I looked “cute.” I had curtsied and said, “Thank you, Miss Melly,” and had had the satisfaction of seeing her blush.
I was wearing the blue 1950s gown from John Nicker-son’s shop window, with the half dozen necklaces I had envisioned, the stiff black petticoats, the oversized fabric flower pinned at the waist—while I’d been at it, I’d made several matching black, white, and pale blue flowers to use in Kate’s window boxes and as tiebacks on Kate’s curtains, too—and a pair of strappy, black heels I had picked up at Filene’s Basement in Boston when I took Mom and Noel to the airport. The fact that Derek had been particularly complimentary about my fishnet stockings with the seam up the back had done quite a bit to offset Melissa’s snide comment. Obviously he didn’t think I looked “cute.” And I hadn’t yet told him the stockings were attached to a garter belt.
“I really like that dress,” he said, for what was at least the third, if not the fourth time, pulling me closer.
We were on the dance floor, swaying to the dulcet tones of Rod Stewart.
“Thank you,” I murmured demurely, snuggling in. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
If you ask me, Derek looks his best in faded jeans and a T-shirt—that is, if he’s going to wear clothes at all—but Derek in a gray suit with a blue shirt to bring out the forget-me-not color of his eyes wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes, either. It was the first time I’d seen him all dressed up in suit and tie, and he looked scrumptious. Good enough to eat, and then some.
“Any chance you need help getting out of it?” he inquired.
“The dress? Now?”
He chuckled. “Of course not now. We should at least wait until Kate and Wayne leave before we sneak off.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” I said, my cheeks pink.
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think it’ll be too much longer. I’m sure they’re eager to get off to the carriage house and be alone, too.”
That “too” was quite nice, actually. So was the way his arms tightened around my waist.
I had taken Kate and Wayne across to the mostly finished carriage house in the morning, while Derek was inside the main house, helping to set up for the wedding. It had taken a whole lot of hard work, including a couple of all-nighters, to get at least the carriage house bedroom and master bath ready for occupation by New Year’s Eve, but we’d managed. The final touches on kitchen, laundry, and downstairs powder room were still to come and would have to be done while Kate and Wayne were in Paris for their honeymoon, but instead of spending their wedding night in Kate’s old room in the B&B, or in Wayne’s apartment, where they’d be sharing their space with Josh, they’d get to spend it in their new love nest.
Kate had gasped with delight when she walked into the bedroom.
“My God, Avery, it’s gorgeous. We’ll be so happy here.”
I looked around, pleased. I thought it looked pretty good, too, if I did say so myself, but it’s always nice to have a happy customer.
“What’s with all the empty frames?” she had asked, looking around her new bedroom.
I’d looked around, too, at the eight or ten empty black picture frames adorning the toile wallpaper. “They’re for photographs. Make sure you take lots of pictures in Paris. I’ll have them blown up, in black and white, and frame and mat them when you get back. That way you’ll always remember your honeymoon and how you felt when you were there.”
“Aww!” Kate said and leaned on Wayne. He put an arm around her.
“That’s nice,” he said, nodding to the copy of the photograph of William Ellis and Emily Thompson that I’d found in Dr. Ben’s album. Now it was framed and sitting on one of the bedside tables next to a picture of Shannon and one of Josh. Who had decided to keep separate residences, by the way. At least for the time being. Josh would stay in his dad’s apartment, and Shannon in her room in the bed and breakfast.
“It’s just until I get a wedding picture of the two of you,” I explained. “I figure we’ll take that one downstairs and hang it near the initials, since you figured out a way to keep them. That way, when people ask, you can show them the picture. I made a copy of Emily’s letter to Larry, too.”
“Aww,” Kate said again. She was getting sentimental, her eyes wet and her smile unsteady.
“I’m sorry this place isn’t completely finished. We did our best, but it isn’t easy to build a whole house in just two months, especially with everything that was going on. It’ll be done by the time you get back from Paris, I promise.”
“It’s beautiful,” Kate said. “Everything I always wanted. I love the fluffy carpet, and the toile wallpaper, and the bed. Did you make the bed?”
“I . . . um . . . embellished the bed. It was a plain Shaker-style oak headboard when I started.”
And now, it was a vision in antique white, with finials and scrollwork and a crackle finish.
“Are those skylights?” Wayne wanted to know, looking up.
I nodded. “We thought the shutters and window boxes would make them look more like windows. Once the snow melts, you can pull the shutters back—there’s some kind of tool in the closet, and it hooks up there to hold them back—and retract the outside shutters as well, and then you’ll have sunshine coming in. Or stars at night.”
“Lovely,” Kate murmured. “I love the paper flowers. They
are
paper, right?”
I nodded. “Definitely paper. Scrapbooking stuff. You don’t want anything up there you’ll have to water. It’s a pain to do, plus it might drip and ruin the carpet. I could have gone with silk plants, I guess, but I had fun making them.”
“They’re beautiful,” Kate said. “If I didn’t already have a wedding bouquet, I’d take them down and use them this afternoon.”
“That’s sweet of you, but they can’t really compare to your bouquet. I’m glad you like them, though.”
“I love them. I love everything!” She left Wayne’s side to throw both arms around me. “Thank you so much, Avery!”
“You’re welcome,” I said, hugging her back. “But it is the job you hired us to do, you know.”
“This is above and beyond just doing your job, though. This is
perfect
!” She burst into tears.
Thinking about it now, out on the dance floor, I smiled. It was nice to see her so happy. It was nice to see
everyone
so happy, if it came to that.
“It’s good to see Bea and Steve together again,” Derek said, as if reading my mind. “Bea looks happy, doesn’t she? ”
I nodded. Beatrice did look happy. As well she should. She had survived being kidnapped and held at gunpoint, and she had her husband back, all repentant and loveydovey. Steve had even decided to quit his high-powered job in Boston to settle down here in Waterfield—in our house on Becklea Drive, as it turned out—and start a small law firm right here in town. He was paying full price for it—the house—in spite of Derek’s efforts to give him a family discount, which worked out great for us. Cora was thrilled, of course. Bea was thrilled, too; the only one who wasn’t thrilled was Alice, but she’d just have to lump it and come up on the weekends.
“I think they’re going to be all right,” Derek said, looking at them across the dance floor. “Nothing like a brush with death to get one’s priorities straight.”
“Definitely.”
Bea and Steve were back to discussing starting a family again, and that went a long way toward making Cora happy, too. I added, “I’m glad you and I weren’t the ones in harm’s way this time.”
He smiled down at me. “Nice change, isn’t it? Although you did have a gun pointed at you for a while there.”
“I didn’t get shot, though. That was Melissa, thank God.”
“Yeah, well, it’s too bad it went down that way—it would have been so much better if she could have just gotten the gun away from Mary Elizabeth, the way we’d talked about—but everything turned out OK in the end.” His voice was serene.
“I wonder if Miss Melly would agree with you,” I muttered.
At the time when Melissa appeared in Mary Elizabeth’s parlor, I’d totally bought into the illusion that she just happened to stop by, and that she would be more than happy to help Mary Elizabeth dispose of Mom, Beatrice, and me. Of course, as soon as Wayne and Reece Tolliver made their presence known, and then Derek appeared, I had realized that it had all been a setup. Melissa is nothing if not self-serving: As soon as she realized that the Stenhams were implicated in Gerard’s murder—and she swore she hadn’t known before that afternoon—she told the police everything she knew, and then offered to do whatever they wanted in order to avoid being charged as an accessory. She remembered that Ray had gotten a phone call from Randy in the evening the day Gerard died that had ended with Ray telling Randy to call back if he needed help later. And then she remembered the phone ringing in the middle of the night, and Ray telling her he’d have to go pick up Randy, who needed a ride home. One of the Stenhams—I’m not sure which—told Wayne where they had left Gerard’s Lexus (at the train station in Bath), and Wayne found it there, with all of Gerard’s things in it.
As for the next afternoon, when Beatrice was drugged and taken from Clovercroft to Mary Elizabeth’s house, Melissa insisted that she and Ray had been together. Since Randy also had an alibi for that afternoon, it jibed with what Beatrice had said—that Mary Elizabeth had come to get her on her own.
All three Stenhams were incarcerated at this point. Mary Elizabeth had guilty to one count of first-degree murder, four of attempted murder, and one count of aggravated kidnapping, and would be spending the next seventeen years, if she lived that long, in the Women’s Correctional Facility in Windham. Where, I had learned, they participated in the Pathways to Hope Prison Dog Project. Maybe Mary Elizabeth would be responsible for a couple of poodles. It would be only fitting. If I got the chance, I might even suggest it.
Ray and Randy, meanwhile, were serving much shorter sentences in local jails. Ray hadn’t done much wrong as far as Gerard went, so he got off easy on that score. Mary Elizabeth had killed Gerard, and Randy had maneuvered the body down the stairs from the apartment, losing one of his cufflinks along the way, and had left it in the carriage house, while Ray had simply given his brother a ride home from the train station in Bath. So Randy was in jail on the charge of interfering with a corpse, while both Stenham twins had been charged with failure to report a crime and with perverting the course of justice. Ray would be out in a few months. However, he’d be returning to Waterfield without a girlfriend. It seemed to be a mutual decision: Melissa had decided she was above being involved with a common criminal, while Ray—along with Randy and Mary Elizabeth—was none too happy about her attempts to save her own skin by sacrificing theirs. They seemed to think she should have just let Mary Elizabeth kill all three of us and kept her mouth shut instead of interfering.
In addition to the whole murder issue, there was also the small matter of some financial shenanigans at Stenham Construction. Those were what Gerard had tried to blackmail the Stenhams about. Beatrice knew exactly what they were, of course; not because Gerard had told her, but because her background was in finance, and because Carolyn Tate’s amateurish attempts at creative bookkeeping had been no problem for someone of Beatrice’s intelligence and background. It was all a very tangled web: Carolyn Tate’s death had been an unfortunate accident and nothing more, and Gerard’s presence at Clovercroft had been entirely fortuitous, but now Beatrice was in a position to help the authorities wind up a whole slew of financial peccadilloes involving Stenham Construction. With any luck, once Ray and Randy were released from county lockup, someone else would slap them in irons over the financial misappropriations, and they’d stay gone for a good, long time.
Derek glanced across the room to where Miss Melly was sitting at a table, long legs elegantly crossed, watching the dancing. When she saw him look at her, she smiled brilliantly. He said, looking down at me, “She’ll find someone else.”
“I have no doubt she will,” I answered. “Just as long as that someone isn’t you.”
He grinned. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. She couldn’t wait to get rid of me the first time. I don’t think she’s gonna be too eager to try again.”
I wouldn’t be so sure,
I thought, but I refrained from actually speaking the words out loud. “Oh, look,” I said instead, “looks like they’re getting ready for the garter ceremony.”