Unleashed (A Melanie Travis Mystery) (27 page)

The Blazer was still rolling when Sam jumped out. He ran toward the house. For several panicked seconds, I couldn’t seem to move. Then a jolt of adrenaline shot through me. I scrambled out of the car and raced after him.

“Stop!” I yelled, grabbing Sam’s shoulder and spinning him around just as he reached the front steps. “You can’t go in there!”

Bright orange flames licked at the dry wood of the porch. The front door was open, and I could see that the interior of the small house was already engulfed. Smoke floated lazily along the eaves, creeping through every crack in the roofline. The old house was going up faster than a stack of dry newspapers.

“I have to get—”

“No you don’t, damn it!” I was screaming so loudly my throat hurt. Inhaling a lungful of smoke didn’t help. “There’s nothing left in there. Everything’s gone.”

Sam looked around wildly. A hose was coiled on the ground beside the detached garage. As he ran to get it, I dialed nine-one-one. The operator took my information calmly and told me to remain on the line.

I would have, except that when I turned back to see what was keeping Sam, I dropped the phone.

He was bent over a spigot that was attached to the garage. Old and rusty from lack of use, it turned only grudgingly. Oblivious to anything else, Sam swore and wrestled with it. Behind him, no more than half a dozen feet away, stood Chuck. He was cradling an ax in his hands.

“Sam!”

Even over the roar of the fire, he must have heard the panic in my voice. Sam stood up, spun around, and took in the situation in a glance.

“The house is going to burn,” Chuck said. He shifted the weight of the ax from one hand to the other. “Nothing’s going to stop it. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.” Sam lifted his hands and stepped slowly away from the garage. “It’s going to burn. Fine by me.”

He took several steps in my direction.

“Stop right there,” Chuck ordered. “Let me think about what to do.”

I cast a quick glance at Sam. I had no idea how he could look so calm when I was shaking. All at once I knew how he’d felt those times when I’d been in danger. Right now, I wished he were anywhere else but where he was; standing within striking distance of the sharp blade of a murderer’s ax.

“Take your time,” I said to Chuck. “Think all you want. Are you the one who set the fire?”

He didn’t answer, but I kept talking anyway. “It looks like you did a good job. A few minutes more and there’ll be nothing left of that house but embers.”

“That’s right,” Chuck spat out. “Maybe then everyone will go away and leave us alone.”

“Us?” asked Sam. Thwarted in his attempt to reach me, he was edging back toward the hose. “Who’s us?”

“My mom and me. This is our land. It’s been our land for decades. People have no right to come along and take advantage of an old lady.”

“People like who?” I asked. I stepped toward the house, deliberately drawing Chuck’s attention away from Sam and back to me. Heat from the fire poured over me like a molten wave. My hair lifted and crackled with it. “People like Sheila? Is that who you’re talking about?”

“Big-city lady coming around here with her big-city ideas. She conned my mother good. Got her to sign a contract that gave away the house that I grew up in.”

“The house that should have gone to you when your mother died,” I prompted.

“Damn right,” Chuck snapped. “I told her we were going to have to renegotiate the terms, but Sheila just laughed and said it was a done deal.”

I didn’t dare look at Sam. I hoped to hell he knew what he was doing. In his place, I’d have been moving away from the man with the ax. Sam was going the other way. I had to keep Chuck focused on me.

“Is that why you killed her?” I asked.

Chuck growled. That was the only word for it. The guttural sound was filled with pent-up rage and frustration. “It isn’t right to take advantage of an old lady,” he repeated stubbornly. “It isn’t fair. Don’t know what everyone wanted this house for anyway. It never was much.”

He glanced past me at the blazing structure and spat. “Pretty soon it won’t be anything at all. Then everyone will just go away and leave me be.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I said. “It’s too late.”

Chuck had started to look for Sam, but I’d made him mad, and his eyes came back to me. His glare was dark and menacing.

I strained my ears, listening for the sound of sirens. I’d called for help; what was taking so long?

“What do you mean it’s too late?” he demanded.

I wondered if I should bring up the murder again. Under the circumstances, it didn’t seem like the wisest course of action. I tried another tack.

“Your mother signed a contract. Even though Sheila and Brian are dead, it’s still legally binding. Their heirs are going to inherit the option on this house.”

“What house?” Chuck laughed harshly, but he was beginning to look concerned.

“On the land, then. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

“My land!” Chuck screamed, swinging the ax to make his point. “This is
my
land!”

Sam made his move.

He swooped down and snatched up the hose, turning the nozzle on full blast. A jet of water shot out, catching Chuck square in the face. It wasn’t enough to knock him down, but it was enough to blind him. The ax fell to the ground as his hands reached up reflexively to cover his eyes.

Sam and I both ran forward at the same time. He grabbed Chuck. I went for the ax, scooping it up off the ground and throwing it as far as I could.

Chuck screamed in outrage. Blinking, sputtering, he struck out blindly. His first blow glanced off Sam’s shoulder. Sam ducked a second jab, then landed one of his own.

His fist connected solidly with Chuck’s jaw. Chuck’s head snapped back; his eyes fluttered shut. He dropped to the ground at my feet.

Coughing in the smoke, I bent at the waist and fought to catch my breath. “Nice job,” I said.

Sam grinned. I suspected his knuckles hurt like hell.

I found a length of rope in the garage. As Sam bound Chuck’s hands behind his back, the roof of the house collapsed. A rush of hot air billowed over us. Sparks and debris showered the lawn.

Finally, I heard the sound of sirens in the distance.

It was about damn time.

The firemen arrived too late to do anything but ensure that the fire didn’t spread to the detached garage or surrounding trees. They did give Chuck an odd look. By the time they had the blaze under control, he’d woken up and was sitting, trussed and angry, on the ground beside the Blazer.

“Your arsonist,” Sam said tersely.

I was keeping close, just in case. Sam looked as though he wouldn’t mind taking another shot at the man who had killed his ex-wife.

That comment got the fire chief on the line to the state police. We were told that Detective Holloway was on his way. Hoping to tie things up in a neater bow, I called the Harrison Police Department and requested Detective Walden’s presence, too.

It took half the afternoon, but by the time we were done, Chuck was being held for setting the fire and murder charges were pending. It helped that the police had found a rifle in Chuck’s truck, which was parked behind the garage. The rifle matched the caliber of weapon used to kill Brian, and they had every hope that the bullets would match as well.

Sam and I dragged ourselves back to Stamford by late afternoon. Faith and the puppies were thriving. Davey and Peg had been to the supermarket and were in the midst of preparing dinner.

I was delighted by the prospect of being waited on for a change, but Sam begged off. He’d been away from home more than a week, he said. It was time he got back up to Redding and started getting his life put back in order.

Until very recently, I’d thought that Sam’s life was here with Davey and me. I didn’t voice that sentiment aloud, however, and Sam didn’t think of it on his own. He and Tar left shortly thereafter.

Aunt Peg looked surprised by Sam’s decision, but remained uncharacteristically silent on the subject. Over dinner, she chattered determinedly about all sorts of other things, including her plan for solving the problem of Randy Bowers, the camp bully.

“I’ve spoken to his mother,” she announced. “I’m going to train their dog.”

“Aunt Peg, what are you talking about?”

“Randy has a Wheaten Terrier. I’ve been to see it, and the poor thing is every bit as wild as its owner. It’s quite obvious both dog and child have a lack of discipline in their lives. Randy’s mother thought the idea of obedience training was simply wonderful.”

“What do you mean you’ve been to see their dog? How did you manage that?”

“I called Mrs. Bowers on the phone. I told her she’d won a free course at my obedience school for her Wheaten Terrier.”

“Aunt Peg, you don’t have an obedience school.”

She frowned. “Melanie, don’t be such a pill.”

Pardon me for pointing out the obvious.

“And of course,” Aunt Peg continued blithely, “one can’t train a dog without training its owner. I’m starting the lessons Monday at the Bowers’s house, and I suspect we’ll be seeing a change in young Randy’s deportment very shortly.”

One problem solved. At that point, I was savoring any victories I could get.

Because although I’d managed to figure out who killed Sheila and Brian, it didn’t feel as though I’d gained very much. By the end of the week, the dog show grapevine was buzzing with the news that
Woof!
was ceasing publication. The magazine hadn’t been on the verge of bankruptcy as Marlon had predicted, but the loss of both copublishers proved to be an insurmountable blow.

The issue that would have carried Alida Trent’s story never made it into print, so whether or not Aubrey would have killed the article became a moot point. Last I heard, Aubrey had moved on to bigger and better things by joining the staff of the American Kennel Club. I hoped they never made her a rep because if I saw her at a dog show, I was planning to run the other way.

Sam was in for a shock when Brian’s will was read. It turned out that his old friend had bequeathed to him all rights, royalties, and revenues associated with the video game, Island of Mutant Terror. At least lottery winners know they’ve bought a ticket. Sam had had no way to prepare for this.

His first thought was to decline the bequest. His second: to give the whole thing to charity. Brian’s lawyer, perhaps seeing Sam as a new and potentially wealthy client, counseled him to think carefully about both decisions.

“There’s no reason to be hasty,” he said. “Sit on the decision. Take six months off. Let the rest of your life get back to normal, and then see how you feel.”

Unfortunately for me, Sam took the man’s advice to heart. He came to see me one sunny summer afternoon and blew my world to pieces.

“I need to get away,” Sam said. “It isn’t you, it’s everything else. I just have to be alone for a while. Now more than ever, I need to figure out what the rest of my life is going to be about.”

I sat beside him, looked into his eyes, and gave no indication that my heart was shearing in half.

“It won’t be forever,” said Sam. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“I love you,” I said. I knew the words weren’t enough to hold him. Still, I couldn’t keep myself from saying them.

“I love you, too. And I love Davey. You’re my family, and this doesn’t change that.”

But it did, of course, whether Sam wanted to see it or not. Holding my breath, holding back tears, I watched the man of my dreams walk out of my life.

Later, I made up a story for Davey about a journey Sam needed to take, a trip that he’d be returning from soon. There was nothing I could do for my son but put the best spin on the situation and hope to hell that I wasn’t lying.

My days were full; Aunt Peg and Davey and six, adorable, chubby black puppies saw to that. Little by little, the emptiness that had at first seemed all encompassing, began to recede. I still ached; I still grieved; but I found I was able to remember the good times, too.

I thought about a man who’d loved two women and left them both. And I wondered if one day his heart would bring him back.

Please turn the page for
an exciting sneak peek at
Laurien Berenson’s newest
Melanie Travis mystery
ONCE BITTEN
coming in September 2001
wherever hardcover mysteries are sold!

F
or years I’ve resisted carrying a cell phone. Even now I do so only grudgingly, and mostly for the sake of security. But I have to admit there are times when having instant access to the rest of the world comes in very handy.

Back in the car, I dialed up Frank, told him I was only about twenty minutes away, and asked if he still had custody of my missing relatives.

“Sure do.” He sounded happy enough about the arrangement. “Want to talk to them?”

Without waiting for an answer, my brother put Bob on. “It’s about time you tracked us down,” he said. “Didn’t you find my note?”

“Yes, that’s why I’m calling ”

“Come on over. The game’s great. So’s the pizza.”

With incentives like those, who could resist?

“And your Aunt Peg is on her way.”

That got my attention. “Why?”

“Who knows?” Bob asked blithely. “Peg dances to her own tune. I think this whole wedding thing is making her nervous.”

Not Aunt Peg. Solving murders didn’t make her nervous. Whelping premature puppies didn’t make her nervous. Showing at Westminster didn’t make her nervous. I doubted that something as simple as a family wedding could give her the jitters.

“I’m on my way,” I said. “Do I need to stop and pick anything up?”

Bob repeated the question to the others and came back with a shopping list that included beer, bean dip and duct tape. Something about an indoor football toss gone awry.

The twenty minutes expanded to forty-five. By the time I reached Frank’s apartment in Cos Cob, Aunt Peg’s minivan was already parked on the street out front.

Frank lives on the first floor of a remodeled Victorian house. What was originally a large one-family home now holds three smaller apartments, with the house’s elderly owner living upstairs. Being young and spry and usually short of cash, my brother pays for part of his rent by doing chores mowing the lawn, painting, and carrying porch furniture up and down from the basement as the seasons change.

Once he and Bertie were married, however, Frank would be moving to her place in Wilton. There was no way she could bring the kennel-full of dogs that comprised her livelihood here.

“Hey, good to see you!” Frank opened the door, threw an arm around my shoulder, and pulled me close for a hug.

The spontaneous gesture of affection felt good. And I was in no position to take such things for granted. Not too long ago, my brother and I seemed to be continually at loggerheads. Our parents had died eight years earlier, and though we’d both been nominal adults by then, I’d found myself having to step into the role of responsible big sister all too often as Frank wandered aimlessly from one escapade to the next.

Recently, however, everything had changed. Frank had opened his own business, finally finding something he was good at and could actually make a living doing. And Bertie had come into his life.

What had happened next was a revelation. My little brother was in love: joyously, dizzily, head over heels in love. Watching him tumble for the statuesque redhead had been delightful; seeing him now try to live up to the good qualities she saw in him, an unexpected pleasure.

Though I’d been the one to introduce them, I’d never expected them to form a permanent bond. Never had I been so pleased to be taken by surprise.

Frank used the arm he had around my shoulder to pull me inside, grocery bags bumping against my legs as he nudged the door shut behind us.

“Nacho chips!” Davey cried, eyeing the bags greedily.

“Hello to you, too.” I leaned down and swiped a kiss across my son’s forehead, earning myself a glare filled with all the injured dignity a seven-year-old boy could muster.

Bob and Davey were sitting on the couch facing the TV. Aunt Peg had commandeered the only chair in the room, and it, too, was angled to face the screen.

Eve was snuggled in Davey’s lap, but Faith had gotten up to greet me at the door. I reached down to stroke the soft skin beneath the Poodle’s chin. She was probably happier than my relatives were to see me. Never let anyone tell you that dogs aren’t a blessing.

I shifted the bags to one hand so I could give Faith a better scratch. “Aunt Peg, I didn’t know you liked football.”

“Let’s just say I’m flexible. When in Rome ...”

Which begged the question of what she was doing in Rome. Or in Cos Cob, as the case may be.

“Let me just put this stuff away,” I said, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

The phone rang as I was pouring the bean dip into a bowl. I picked up and found myself talking to Bertie, calling to check in with Frank before she left a dog show in New Jersey for the two-hour ride home. Most people have weekends off. Not professional handlers. That’s when they do the majority of their work.

“Melanie, good,” she said, when she realized who she had on the line. “I needed to talk to you anyway. Have you found out anything about Sara?”

“Not much.” I gave her a quick run-through of the day’s events. “But I did come up with a couple of odd things. First of all, Titus.”

“What about him?”

“Remember those big bowls of food and water we saw in Sara’s cottage? Apparently they were meant for him. Sara left the dog behind and it looks as though that stuff was supposed to tide him over.”

“That makes no sense. Titus went everywhere with Sara. If she had left of her own accord, she’d have taken him with her. And if she didn’t, when did she have the chance to fill those bowls?”

“The whole thing is pretty strange,” I said. “According to Delilah, someone from her kennel found Titus wandering around the grounds at the beginning of the week.”

“And she still didn’t think that meant something was wrong?” Bertie sounded outraged.

“Apparently not. Delilah said that Sara makes a habit of running when life gets tough.” Leaning against the counter, I fished a chip out of the bag and ran it through the dip. “Which leads me to my next point. Everyone I’ve spoken to has mentioned that Sara goes through a lot of boyfriends. That once she gets a guy, she loses interest pretty quickly. I’m wondering if she might have dumped someone who took things a little too personally.”

“It’s possible,” Bertie mused. “But since we don’t know who she was seeing ...”

“You said she was with your cousin Josh last summer.”

“Right.”

“I was thinking I ought to talk to him. He might know who was next in line, and from there I could trace things up to the present.”

“It’s worth a try,” Bertie agreed. “Let me call Josh and I’ll have him get back to you.”

“Great. Last thing: Debra Silver said that Sara was trying to get a referral for a lawyer. Do you have any idea what that was about?”

“A lawyer?” Bertie sounded surprised. “No. None. Grant’s a lawyer. At least he used to be. I don’t think he practices anymore, but if she’d had a problem, I would think Sara would have talked to him.”

“According to Debra, she was looking for outside help. Not that it looks as though she found any. Do you think Sara might have run away because she felt threatened by someone?”

“I wish I knew. At least if she ran away, it means she’s okay. But if that’s the case, why hasn’t she called anyone? Her note said she’d be in touch.”

“It also said that you weren’t supposed to believe everything you heard about her,” I pointed out.

“So what have we heard?” Bertie sounded frustrated. “Hardly anything we didn’t know already. This whole mess is driving me crazy, Melanie, and time is passing. This wedding’s going to happen in some shape or form whether I’m ready or not. Do you suppose you could do me a favor?”

“Probably.” When it comes to my family, I never commit without first hearing what’s involved.

“Would you possibly have time to stop by a place called Pansy’s Flowers? It’s in Stamford, so it shouldn’t be too far out of your way. Sara told me she thought they’d be the best place for what I wanted. She’d already contacted them about the kinds of bouquets and arrangements we’d need, and they were going to get back to her with prices. Of course, now I’m sure they’re wondering whatever happened to us. Could you pick up a price list and let them know that we’re still interested in their services?”

“Sure.” That didn’t sound too hard. “I can probably do it Monday after school.”

“Thanks. You’re such a help. That makes one less thing to worry about. Is Frank around?”

“Watching football in the other room. I’ll go get him.”

While Frank talked to Bertie, I grabbed a few moments alone with Aunt Peg. Like Bertie, she wanted to know how things were progressing. “There’s something that occurred to me after we spoke yesterday,” she said. “That note that Sara left for Bertie didn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

I nodded and snagged another nacho chip. After a moment, Aunt Peg followed suit.

“Sara said she thought she could count on Bertie, which, under the circumstances, seems backwards. Count on Bertie to do what? Sara was the one who was supposed to be helping Bertie, not the other way around.”

“I know.”

“Maybe she meant that as kind of a nudge. Maybe Delilah is right and Sara did run away. For whatever reason, she couldn’t take Titus with her, but she was hoping Bertie would go to her house and find him.”

“Why?”

Aunt Peg aimed a withering look in my direction. “Am I supposed to know everything?”

“Why not? It would certainly make my life easier.”

She slid another chip through the bean dip. “All I’m trying to do is broaden your thinking.”

“Aunt Peg, I don’t need any more questions.”

“Maybe you do. Maybe you’re not asking the right questions, have you ever thought of that?”

Always.

But that was going to have to be tomorrow’s problem. Now I was tired of tracking down answers that only seemed to lead to more puzzles. It was Saturday night, and I was declaring myself off-duty. I popped the top on a can of beer, picked up the chips and dip, and went out to the living room to join my family.

The next morning I was planning to sleep late. I was determined to sleep late. Come on, it was Sunday. My last chance for a whole week.

The telephone woke me up just before seven.

I heard the ringing in my sleep. For an addled moment, it seemed to be part of my dream. Then the dream vanished and I thought I’d set my alarm by mistake. By the third ring, after swatting the dock to no avail, I had one eye open and Eve was dancing on the bed.

I groaned, rolled over, and picked up the receiver.

“Hi, Mel, it’s me.”

Bob? What could he possibly want at this hour? He’d been up just as late as I had the night before; our family gathering lasting through an impromptu dinner, followed by a killer game of team scrabble that had my ex and my aunt at each other’s throats. Not that this was anything new.

Davey had been asleep on the couch by the time I’d loaded the two Poodles in the Volvo for the trip home. Bob had picked up his son and carried him outside, laying him gently on the back seat and tucking his jacket snugly around the small sleeping form.

When I’d thanked him for his help, Bob had offered to accompany me home. If I wanted.

It wasn’t hard to see that he’d been disappointed when I shook my head. Now, a scant eight hours later, here he was again. If he said something suggestive about my being in bed, I was going to hang up on him.

“You there, Mel?” Bob asked. “Are you awake?”

“Not really.” I hiked myself up on one elbow and debated how many seconds I could afford to waste before Eve lost control of her small puppy bladder on my comforter.

“You haven’t seen today’s paper?”

“Until the phone rang, Bob, today hadn’t even started for me yet. Damn! Wait! Wait! Hold on!”

Dashing from side to side across the bed, Eve had that frantic look puppies get when they sense that a mistake is about to become inevitable. I threw back the covers, scooped her up, ran downstairs, and put her out the back door. Looking vastly relieved, the Poodle squatted at the bottom of the steps.

I hurried over to the counter and picked up the phone. “Still there?”

“I’m here.” Bob didn’t sound happy. “What the hell happened? Is everything okay? Do you need me to come over?”

“Everything’s fine,” I assured him. Awakened by our hasty descent, Faith came trotting into the kitchen. I opened the door again and she joined Eve in the backyard. “Eve needed to go outside. She’s still a baby and her housebreaking isn’t perfect yet.”

“Thank God.” Bob exhaled. “I thought something was really wrong.”

Waiting for the Poodles to finish outside, I pulled out a kitchen chair and sat. “Why would you think that?”

“There’s a story on the front page of today’s newspaper. You know that woman you and Bertie have been looking for? She seems to have turned up dead.”