Читать книгу Frame-Up - Jill Elizabeth Nelson - Страница 11

TWO

How could this be? Laurel blinked and shook her head, but the corpse draped across her luggage didn’t disappear. And Laurel knew the woman. Did she ever!

How did the body of Melissa Eldon—Caroline’s detested biology teacher—wind up in her car trunk? Laurel’s pulse roared in her ears. How did the woman die? No noticeable injuries sprang to Laurel’s attention.

And where did Ms. Eldon meet her end? Absurd to believe she crawled into the trunk of her own free will and expired. No restraints tethered the splayed body so she must have been dead before someone dumped her remains in the trunk—after Laurel stowed their bags last evening and before she and Caroline left town. The thuds and thumps from the trunk when they had nearly run off the road took on horrific significance. Nausea churned her stomach.

Think, Laurel. Think logically.

Other than herself, only Caroline would have had access to the car keys and the trunk remote control. She kept a spare set on top of the refrigerator in the kitchen. No! Laurel would never believe her daughter was responsible.

But what if the law didn’t see it that way? Blackness edged her vision, and she swayed.

A firm hand caught her elbow. Gasping, she gazed up into eyes as gray and piercing as driven rain. Laurel went still. If only this man were someone she knew and trusted. Strong arms around her might never be more welcome. She pulled away and stiffened her spine.

“Do you know who this is?” he asked.

Laurel didn’t answer. Her voice had lost the ability to respond. David tugged off one of his gloves, leaned into the open trunk and touched the woman’s throat with a pair of fingers.

By an act of will, Laurel unlocked her lips. “Any pulse?” She already knew the answer, but she had to ask.

“Not a flicker.” David straightened with a grimace. “You’re out of luck on your suitcases. We’d better not disturb anything until the authorities get here.”

“This is so awful! That poor woman!”

“We may as well sort out our thoughts inside where it’s warm.” His hand pressed gently against her shoulder. With the other hand he slammed the trunk closed on the grizzly vision. “We’ll have to fire up that CB radio immediately.”

“Right.” The weak word was swallowed by the wind.

The journey back to the house passed in a blur. The next thing she knew, David was helping her out of her coat and urging her to remove her snow-cased shoes. Her toes tingled and stung, but nothing compared to the pins and needles in the pit of her stomach.

“I’ve got the game ready, Mom.”

Caroline’s cheerful announcement wrung Laurel’s heart. How could she tell her daughter what they’d discovered outside? Laurel’s gaze slid toward David, making a soundless plea for...what? Guidance? Moral support? Or was she hoping for a laugh and an assurance that their gruesome find had been a practical joke? If only!

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You may as well tell her. The police will be involved soon enough, and there will be questions for all of us.”

“Tell me what?” Caroline’s brows drew together as she stood up. “Police? What’s going on?”

Laurel drew in a shaky breath. “Let’s have a seat on the sofa.” She stepped toward her daughter, a hand extended.

Caroline backed away. “Stop it! You’re scaring me.”

“Listen to your mom, young lady,” David said. “This is too important for you to do anything but tune in with both ears.”

The teenager gaped, gaze cutting toward their host.

“Please,” Laurel said.

Something deflated on the inside of Caroline, and she shuffled to the sofa and plopped down. Laurel perched beside her daughter.

“There is no gentle way to break this news.” If only her whisper-soft tone could perform the impossible anyway. “We—uh, Mr. Greene and I—made a shocking discovery.” Her hands fisted around the fabric of her pants legs. “Your teacher—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “Your biology teacher is dead.”

Caroline gaped. “That’s terrible! How did you find out— Ohhhh!” Her expression lightened. “You must have gotten cell service out there and someone called you. Did you tell them where we are?”

“No, honey. No one called me. I know she’s dead because I saw her with my own eyes.” Laurel brushed her fingertips against her daughter’s cheek. “Your teacher’s body was lying across our luggage.”

Caroline’s face went red and then drained stark white.

“Yes, it’s a terrible thing, sweetheart. Even if you didn’t like Ms. Eldon, you’d never wish something like this to happen to her.”

“What’s going on? How did she die?” Caroline’s eyes pleaded with her mother to provide answers that would make sense of the incomprehensible.

Laurel spread her hands. “We’re mystified. I didn’t see any marks on the body, did you?”

She looked toward David. He shook his head. At least she wasn’t so rattled she’d overlooked something obvious.

“How did she get into our car?” Caroline burst out. “I don’t understand.”

“None of us do.” David’s voice rang strong. “That’s for law enforcement to figure out. I’d better go raise them on the radio.”

“This is for real?” Caroline’s voice went shrill.

Laurel nodded. “I’m afraid so, sweetie.” If she looked half as horrified as her daughter, they were truly a miserable pair.

“Oh, Mo-o-om!”

Caroline threw herself into Laurel’s arms. If only she could absorb some of the shock for her little girl, but there was more than enough of that to go around.

Over her daughter’s shoulder, she glimpsed David’s expression as he turned away from them and left the room. Compassion? Yes, a strong dose of that. Confusion? Who could blame him? Suspicion? No, surely not!

But why not? He didn’t know them any better than they knew him, and she had been quick enough to draw conclusions about him the moment she recognized him. What irony for the shoe to suddenly find itself on the other foot! She didn’t like it, but what David Greene thought was the least of their worries. They had a reprieve until the storm abated and the authorities arrived, but then she and her daughter would find themselves the focus of a murder investigation.

She could almost feel sympathy for what David had gone through. Almost. He could well be guilty, but at least she knew her own innocence and Caroline’s—didn’t she?

Laurel gazed into the teenager’s tear-wet face. She wiped at the tears with her thumbs. Caroline might be going through a rough patch emotionally, but she’d seen no signs of potential to do this kind of harm. Deep down, her girl was still her sweet girl.

“It’ll be all right, honey.”

“You always tell me that.”

“Haven’t things always worked out?”

“They didn’t work out so well for Ms. Eldon.”

“I’m sorry for what happened to your teacher, but she’s not my main concern. You are. Always and forever.”

The ghost of a smile trembled forth. “That’s sappy, Mom, but right now, I don’t care. What are the cops going to say? They’re going to think we killed her, aren’t they.”

The last sentence was more of a statement than a question. Laurel couldn’t fault her daughter’s intelligence. “I assume we’ll be questioned, and they’ll have to investigate us, but we’re innocent. They’ll discover that soon enough.”

“Ri-i-ight! Like they exonerated Mr. Greene.”

Laurel’s jaw dropped. “You know who he is?”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Sure. I was in grade school when all that stuff happened, but I don’t live in a bubble. We talked about the weird case last year in our Social Studies unit on criminal justice. Even watched a recorded news segment. I have to say, Mr. Greene looks a lot cuter now than he did when he was being dogged by reporters.”

“I would never have guessed you recognized him,” Laurel said. “You didn’t act nervous to meet him.”

“I’ll let you hog the Oscar for uptight performance. I just reminded myself straight off that there must be a reason why the guy wasn’t indicted.” Caroline lifted a forestalling hand. “I know. I know. Bad people get away with things all the time. But Mr. Greene seems like a good guy. You have to admit that sometimes good people get accused of bad things.”

Laurel spurted a chuckle. “I think you’ve overheard too many of my phone conversations with colleagues from work. But please remember, sweetheart, that I’m a mama bear dedicated to protecting you. I’ve also had a little more life experience, so pardon me for being skeptical about charming exteriors.”

Caroline leaned close. “You know what I think?”

“Hmm. Something about the tone of that question makes me wonder if I want to hear it.”

“I think you can handle charming without wigging out, but rich and charming pushes all your buttons. Throw in a little suspicion of violent behavior, and the guy is presumed guilty until proven innocent.”

The air stalled in Laurel’s lungs. What would Caroline know about the terrors of Laurel’s brief marriage to her father? She’d barely been three years old when he ditched them for a more compliant wife. Good riddance, as far as she was concerned. But since then, for Caroline’s sake, Laurel had been careful to keep any mention of the man brief and honest, but as kind as possible. Well, at least not overly hostile. Had Caroline been reading between the lines all these years?

The teenager clapped her hands and laughed more heartily than Laurel had heard her in months. “You should see your face, Mom. The psychologist’s daughter strikes again!”

The sound of footfalls entering the room stopped the rebuttal on Laurel’s tongue. Caroline’s head turned in unison with hers toward their host.

David regarded them soberly. “The sheriff and the coroner will be here as soon as the storm lets up.”

The smile melted from Caroline’s face, and Laurel shivered as if he had dashed her with a bucket of snow. For Melissa Eldon the worst had already happened. For her and Caroline, the worst might be about to begin.

* * *

David ripped at the bunch of romaine lettuce as if he could rend truth out of it by force. Refusing assistance from his guests, he’d retired to the kitchen to prepare a supper no one might have an appetite to eat—and to gather his thoughts. He’d left mother and daughter in the main room playing a listless game of Scrabble.

How legit were those two? If he’d ever seen pure horror on anyone’s face, he saw it on Laurel’s when they uncovered the dead woman in her trunk. After they came inside, Caroline’s stunned reaction was as believable as her mother’s. Then he left the room for a few minutes to place that radio call and came back to find them laughing—well, Caroline anyway. Laurel’s expression had been confounded as a coyote staring down a rabbit hole.

Were these a pair of stellar actors, or were they as innocent as they seemed? Laurel hadn’t done well at hiding her feelings from the moment he opened his front door to them, so he’d be surprised if she was that good at pretending. On the other hand, from what he’d overheard of their discussion about him, Caroline had also recognized his face and hadn’t batted an eyelash. If she easily masked surprise, could she fake it, as well?

He attacked a tomato with a knife.

His brief observation of the body, clad in button-down blouse and sleek pants, revealed Ms. Eldon as tall, blonde, full-figured and leggy. Caroline was a snip of a girl. The picture of her lugging that body into the garage from wherever and lifting the corpse into the trunk simply did not compute.

David’s knife halted halfway through a downstroke into the meat of the tomato.

Unless little Caroline had an accomplice—like her too-attractive-for-his-own-good mother. They were both petite, but together they could have managed it.

Maybe he was on to something. Laurel had protested him joining her to collect the luggage. Maybe they were planning to ditch the corpse down one of the ravines along the route, but the snowstorm scuttled their best-laid intentions.

But then he came back to that look on Laurel’s face as she stared into the trunk. He couldn’t quite buy a put-on when the response was so spontaneous. Besides, if she knew the body was there, she could have been more forceful in her refusal of his help. Why did Laurel even bring up the luggage if the mention could lead to discovery of her grizzly secret? If she was that desperate to freshen up, she could have sneaked out there while he was warming up the radio and been back in with the bags before he knew she’d gone.

Then there was Caroline’s cheerful announcement that she’d set up the game. No trace of anxiety and no attempt to stop them from retrieving the bags.

David began giving the salad the tossing of its life.

Could his unexpected guests be setting him up for some reason? The pieces didn’t fit that scenario either. He didn’t see how they could have planned for a snowstorm to dump them on his doorstep. Plus, he’d never met the dead woman, though there was something about her...His brows drew together. What had he glimpsed out there that gave him this feeling he needed to take another look?

He shrugged off the thought with a roll of the shoulders. He didn’t know the woman. Never seen her before in his life, and he wasn’t going to meddle with a crime scene. Period.

But his guests knew the dead woman, and it seemed that Caroline had cordially disliked her. That was a tick mark against the teenager, but he’d had plenty of teachers during his school career that he’d wanted to ship to Timbuktu in a packing crate. Of course, he never would have followed through with his desires, any more than Caroline’s feelings about her teacher meant she’d killed the woman. Surely, the police investigators would realize that much.

Not that he had much faith in cops giving anyone the benefit of the doubt. Come to think of it, he didn’t have much confidence that they’d solve the murder. Look how they’d done on his case. Lots of crimes never came to closure and left people in a limbo of pain and distrust.

David stopped tossing the salad and leaned against the counter. There was his answer. He wanted people to treat him as though he was innocent until he was proven guilty. Shouldn’t he do the same for Laurel and Caroline?

“Something smells wonderful.” Laurel leaned a shoulder against the kitchen door frame.

David offered her a smile, but she stared back at him as if she’d never seen one before. She was still dazed, and he couldn’t blame her. He stirred the sauce bubbling on the stove.

“If you and Caroline want to set the table, we can eat in about ten or fifteen minutes.”

Laurel called her daughter, and they headed to the glass-fronted cupboards that held plates and glasses.

“Wow!” the teenager said. “This kitchen’s got about every technogadget on the planet.”

David wrinkled his nose. “I know. It looks more like the kitchen of a five-star restaurant than a cabin in the woods. I like to cook, but the prior owner was something of a gourmand. I was told that he sometimes brought his private chef with him. I prefer doing things the old-fashioned way.” He motioned toward the paring knife and cutting board.

“Which reminds me,” he continued, “I’ll move into the chef’s bedroom tonight, and you two can have the larger bed in my room.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mr. Greene.” Laurel said.

“Not doing it because I have to...and it’s David. Remember?”

Their gazes locked. Laurel clutched a short stack of plates to her chest. Her eyes searched his. Would she be able to see that he meant her well? That he was not a threat to her safety, and that he wasn’t going to judge her?

She gave a brief nod. “Thank you, then.”

“Don’t thank me too much.” He chuckled as she headed for the sitting room with the plates, Caroline in her wake, toting fistfuls of silverware. “I’m going to make you change the sheets yourself. You’ll find a stack of them in the hall closet. Take your pick.”

Laurel glanced over her shoulder, a corner of her mouth quirked upward. “I think we can handle that.”

Soon they sat down in front of steaming beef stroganoff, tossed salad and biscuits with honey butter.

“What an awesome feast!” Caroline eyed the serving dishes.

“I wish I had more of an appetite.” Laurel’s words came out softly.

Enthusiasm faded from Caroline’s face, and her gaze fell to her empty plate.

“I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have said that.” Laurel covered her daughter’s hand with hers. “You enjoy this meal, and I’ll do my best to follow your lead. It does smell wonderful.” Her gaze cut to David and then back toward her daughter. “We can’t allow ourselves to feel guilty for living.”

Caroline gazed at David. “You can tell she’s got a master’s degree in psychology, right?”

David folded his hands. “You can be thankful for and take pride in an intelligent and well-educated mother.” Did he detect a smidgeon of gratitude in Laurel’s eyes?

“Um, yeah.” Caroline’s nose wrinkled the barest degree.

“You can tell my daughter has never looked at the matter that way before.” Laurel’s statement was directed toward David but her attention was fixed on her daughter. Their stares dueled.

“Feel free to dig in.” David delivered the invitation, then closed his eyes and bowed his head to say a soundless grace.

He didn’t believe in making them uncomfortable by pushing his faith on them. He was more the live-it-and-trust-they-see-something-they-want sort of soul winner.

Lord, I’m trying but I could use a little help. There’s some serious healing to be done between these two, not to mention a crime to solve. Of course, You know that. I’m a bucket of problems with my own crime to solve, so if You’d bring them across the path of someone who can help them sort things out, I’d be grateful... Oh, and thank You for this food. Amen.

Silence rang in his ears. Weren’t the ladies going to eat? He opened his eyes a sliver, then widened them all the way. His guests sat with heads bowed over their plates. Laurel’s lips moved without sound. Caroline’s head came up, and a smile flickered at him as she reached for the stroganoff. Her mother’s gaze lifted slowly, no smile, but she helped herself to the mixed green salad.

Were these two fellow Christians? Maybe his after supper plans would help clarify the matter. His gaze traveled to the baby grand as he reached for the biscuits.

“Caroline, I noticed you play the piano.”

“A little bit,” she said. “I’ve only had a couple years of lessons.”

“Do you like playing?”

The girl pursed her lips. “I love music. I’m just not sure if I can play well enough to make it worth the cost of the lessons.”

“Honey, cut yourself some slack,” Laurel said. “You’ve come a long way, but you can hardly expect to be a professional yet. Mastering an instrument takes time and effort.”

“More effort than I’ve been putting in, you mean.”

“I didn’t say—”

“Let’s tickle a few ivories after supper,” David put in quickly. “Just for fun. No Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony or anything. But first—” he wagged his fork at Caroline “—you and your mom put the dishes in the dishwasher. Cleaning up is the part of cooking I don’t like.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Caroline giggled.

“You’re on, Mr. Greene. I’d do dishes every night to eat like this. Mom tries, but cooking isn’t her thing. It’s lucky that I like bake-at-home pizza, sub sandwich delivery and Chinese takeout.” She gave a brief lift of her shoulders, laughed and then stuffed a bite of stroganoff into her mouth. Her eyes drifted closed as she chewed, and a soft hum purred from her throat.

David grinned and then the smile faded as Laurel laid her fork aside and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. Had Caroline’s offhand remark about her mom’s cooking brought that expression to her face as if she’d tasted something nasty? The sorrow that darkened those honey-rich eyes seemed deeper than a simple lack of culinary skills might cause. There were undercurrents here that he didn’t understand and wasn’t sure he wanted to navigate.

Small talk continued over the meal. David’s effort to remain upbeat flagged as shadows settled over his guest’s expressions. Clearing up time couldn’t come fast enough. While Laurel and Caroline saw to the dishes, David tended the blaze in the fireplace.

“Are you up for ‘Chopsticks’ then?” He waved a hand toward the piano.

Caroline backed away a step. “Seriously?”

“Go for it. I promise you it will turn out better than you think. I’ll help you.”

“You play?”

He grinned. “I didn’t truck this piano up here just to look at it.”

Caroline’s cheeks pinked but she spurted a brief chuckle. “I suppose not.” She took a seat on the polished mahogany bench and placed her fingers on the keyboard.

Notes emerged hesitantly and then picked up speed. About the time Caroline hit a good cadence David slid onto the bench beside her and began to play a high counterpoint melody. She shot him a startled glance and stumbled over a few notes, then resumed her tune in earnest.

Laurel, who had come to stand to one side of the piano, rewarded him with a smile and a nod. David almost botched his next note.

The woman was lovely. Not in an exotic way—a hothouse flower like Alicia had been. Or in a delicate and fleeting sort of way like a rose. But with the graceful purity of the calla lily. He should know. On his Texas ranch, he grew plots of the stunning flowers that had been his mother’s favorite. But now he was likely doomed to see another face in his mind’s eye whenever he tended his plants.

Get a grip, dude. He turned his attention on Caroline. “What else do you know?”

“Not much, but here goes.” Caroline moved into a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells.”

Chuckling, David switched positions to her other side and began a bass note accompaniment. The girl’s sunny grin turned his insides to mush. He’d be nothing but pleased if he could be 100 percent certain the two of them had nothing to do with the demise of the woman in their car trunk.

“That’s it. I’m done.” Caroline slid off the bench. “Now let’s hear what you can do.”

“Yes, please.” Laurel seconded the invitation. “Though that was really nice, honey. I’m proud of you.” She slid an arm around her daughter, and Caroline didn’t pull away.

“You asked for it.” David moved to the center of the bench.

The keys were cool velvet beneath his fingertips. If anything other than gardening had saved his sanity these past few years, it was his music—another legacy from his mother. He transitioned into an airy rendition of “My Favorite Things” and then toned it down with Für Elise.

“Hey, I recognize that one,” Caroline said. “It’s Beethoven. I’ll bet you could play his Fifth Symphony, no problem.”

“I can, but I’m not going to. How about this one?” He began “Morning Has Broken.” A few chords into the song a clear, strong voice took up the words. A heartbeat later, a more youthful voice joined Laurel’s.

“You two can sing.” David smiled big. “This is going to be fun.”

Time drifted as they moved from one familiar favorite to the next—a few pop songs to please the teenager, but mostly praise choruses or old-fashioned hymns. At last, David pulled his hands from the keyboard and let out a slow breath. His guests echoed the soft sigh. Calm and peace enveloped the room. Rare commodities, especially under current circumstances.

“I think,” Laurel said quietly, “this would be a good note on which to say good-night.” She nudged her daughter. “Good night, David. And thank you.”

The gentle light in Laurel’s eyes played a tune on David’s insides.

“Thanks, Mr. Greene,” Caroline said as she allowed herself to be guided away.

The mild flurry of them changing the bedding and him lending them T-shirts and drawstring bottoms for sleepwear did little to disrupt the precious serenity.

“Your peace in the midst of trouble is such a gift, God,” David said as he pulled the covers over himself in the cook’s bed.

The mattress was harder than he liked and the pillow too thin, but he wasn’t about to complain. To God or to himself. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift.

He’d come up to the mountains to be alone and seek the truth. That plan had taken a major detour. Now, he might believe the disruption was a blessing in disguise—except murder had once again invaded his life.

No, he didn’t want to go there. He needed to hang on for dear life to the evening’s calm. But his thoughts had a mind of their own.

A stark vision formed in his head. Pale hair cascaded across shiny black luggage. Blue eyes and red lips frozen open. The blouse twisted away from one shoulder. An etched mark beneath the bare collarbone. A tattoo!

David lunged upright in bed, heart catching in his throat. The whole tattoo hadn’t been visible—maybe half. The rest remained covered by the blouse. He’d only idly noticed it, as he’d been absorbed with the shock of the discovery and the futile search for a pulse. His hand had nearly brushed the telltale mark.

No wonder he’d had this feeling he needed to take another look at the body. His subconscious had registered what his consciousness had overlooked. He’d known one other woman with a similar tattoo in an identical spot. That woman was also dead, and he was suspected of killing her.