Copycat Killing

35

Peter showed up at the library at exactly quarter after eight. Right on time. I unlocked the front door and let him in, locking it behind him again because I didn’t want anyone wandering in and interrupting us.

My heart was pounding and my palms were sweaty. I wasn’t so sure this was a good idea anymore. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head telling me to act confident even if I didn’t feel it, although she probably would have rescinded the advice if she’d known how I was using it.

Peter faced me, hands in his pockets, his back to the checkout desk. “Okay, Kathleen,” he said. “You said on the phone that you have proof that Christian—Jaeger’s death wasn’t an accident.”

I nodded.

“And you said you didn’t want to go to the police.”

“I don’t,” I said.

He shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. “Are we going to keep playing games or are you going to tell me why you called me? I assume you want legal advice.”

I tucked my hair back behind one ear with a gesture that I hope looked smooth and unconcerned. “Actually what I want is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” I said.

His mouth twisted in something that looked like a smile but wasn’t. “Excuse me?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” I repeated and my voice didn’t quaver at all.

He shook his head and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing Kathleen, but I don’t have time for this.”

I held up a crumpled corner of paper. “You probably can’t read this because the writing is so small and it’s not really that easy to read even if you’re up close to it, so I’ll just tell you that it says Carroll Stennett.”

I made a show of looking at the writing and then I turned the paper so it faced him again. “Actually it says Carroll Stennett, Carroll Stennett, Carroll Stennett, Carroll Stennett and Carroll Stennett to be exact.”

He was unfazed. Nothing changed in his demeanor or expression or even his voice. “So?” he said.

“So Carroll Stennett was your great-uncle. He left you a lot of land in his will.” I crossed my free arm over my chest.

“Yes, he did.”

I smiled, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “A handwritten will that Jaeger Merrill—or Christian Ellis if you prefer—forged.”

Peter smiled back at me. It wasn’t warm and it wasn’t real. “Really? Was this will an oil painting or did he make it out of old gears and broken spoons?”

“Funny,” I said. I let the hand holding the scrap of paper drop. “Jaeger created the provenance—all the various documents—that proved the authenticity of the artwork he forged. You knew that. You were his lawyer. Creating a handwritten will was a challenge, but one he was up to, especially since you could provide him with writing samples.”

He looked around the empty library and then focused his attention back on me. “And you figured all this out from a scrap of paper with my uncle’s name on it?”

I checked the bit of paper again and then put it in my pocket. “Pretty much. That and the fact that Jaeger put his portfolio and the puzzle box he made in with some of Maggie’s things. You must have been furious when Maggie called Marcus Gordon instead of you when she found them. They were his insurance policy.”

Peter crossed his arms casually over his chest. “An insurance policy? Because…?”

I felt like I’d swallowed the metal kettle ball Maggie liked to work out with. “Because Jaeger was blackmailing you. He didn’t trust you. He knew it didn’t matter what their differences were, if something happened to him, Maggie would take those things to the police.”

“If that were true, wouldn’t the police have come to talk to me by now?” he asked. He seemed so at ease standing there and I couldn’t help noticing how much bigger he was than me.

“They’re missing the most important piece,” I said, reaching into my other pocket and pulling out the cap to a fountain pen. “This is part of the pen Jaeger used to make that will for you. The other part was in the puzzle box. The police will be able to compare it and the ink inside to the handwriting of the will. Once they know they should look at the will.”

Peter’s jaw tightened. “What do you want?”

“I told you,” I said. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“I don’t have two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

I put my hand back in my pocket. “You can get it.”

“I could,” he said.

Something had changed in his voice and his body language. He took a step toward me and I automatically took a step backward, glancing over my shoulder as I did.

“Detective Gordon’s not coming,” he said.

My mouth went dry. “I uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered.

“Now that’s a lie,” Peter said, shaking his head. “You tried to set me up, Kathleen. You thought I was stupid enough to fall for this little Miss Marple subterfuge.”

“Where’s Marcus?” I said. My voice shook and so did my hands still jammed in my pockets.

Peter looked at his watch. “Larry Taylor’s pretty good with his hands. He got that old pump working over at the co-op. The thing about that gas powered motor is it needs lots of ventilation.”

Both my hands were squeezed into tight fists. I needed to stay focused and keep him talking. “You did something to that…that pump. Is Marcus there? Is Maggie?”

“Maggie is in her studio. I just talked to her. As for Detective Gordon, I’ll stipulate that we’re not going to see him.” He took another step toward me.

I knew if I tried to bolt for the door he’d grab me. “Why did you kill Jaeger?” I asked. “Was he blackmailing you?”

Peter held out both hands. “Classic mystery moment,” he said. “The detective gathers all the usual suspects in the library and then unmasks the killer. I’ll give you points for the setting, but the detective isn’t coming. And I’m not answering any of your questions.”

He came at me then, but I was ready for him. I’d been watching his feet out of the corner of my eye. I darted left.

“You’re wasting your time, Kathleen,” he said. “You’re wasting mine.”

The computer area was more or less behind me and the stacks were to the right. Peter probably figured he had me trapped but this was my library. I knew what I was doing and I was mad.

“You ran me off the road the other night,” I said.

“Did I?” he said. One eyebrow went up. He took a step toward me.

I took a step back. “Stop playing lawyer,” I said. “You killed Jaeger. You pushed him down the stairs, he hit his head and you left him there to drown. What did you do? Swipe Ruby’s keys to the store?”

He gave a snort of laughter. “Speculation.”

“Fact. You didn’t hurt your hand in the parking lot at your office. You did that on the railing of the basement steps at the co-op.” I held up my hand. “Same as I did. Same as Jaeger did when he grabbed for the railing to save himself. Except my cut got cleaned out twice. I bet there’s little bits of wood still in yours. Evidence.”

“Shut up,” he said.

I took a step sideways and back. “Jaeger was blackmailing you. I think you found out he was forging more than just that will for you. You knew he’d get caught again and you weren’t going down with him.” I laughed. “You showed up. He put the evidence against you in one of Maggie’s boxes. Pretty smart.”

“Christian was an idiot,” Peter said. “A spoiled little pissant who’d never done a decent day’s work in his life. He couldn’t swim, you know. And for the record, I didn’t push him. I just didn’t pull him out.”

He lunged at me, and this time I wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed me, turning me around with his arm tight against my neck, slowly cutting off my air supply. I struggled to catch my breath.

Marcus came out from behind the new shelving unit. “Let her go,” he ordered.

Little pinpricks of light were swirling around the edge of my vision but I knew I had to take advantage of Peter’s surprise. I drove the heel of my right hand up and back with as much force as I could. It made very satisfying contact with Peter’s nose. He sucked in a wet breath and I twisted free from his grasp. Marcus grabbed my arm and pulled me back against him as Derek Craig came around the other side of the shelves.

I smiled up at Marcus and felt for the tiny, wireless transmitter under the V-neck of my sweater. “What took you so long?” I wheezed.