Читать книгу Meg Harris Mysteries 6-Book Bundle - R.J. Harlick - Страница 40

Good. You found my gold bracelet,” Gareth said, looking smug in Polo tweed.

Amazed by his ready claim of ownership, I held up the heavy links with the damning letter. “You admit this is yours?”

“Of course. Give it to me.”

Gareth grabbed it. We tugged at the slippery links, then with one firm yank, I ripped it from his grasp and zipped it into my pocket.

“No way you’re having this. It’s evidence,” I said and regretted the words the minute they were spoken.

Deciding I’d better put some distance between Gareth and myself, I started walking towards the front of the house to where my truck was parked.

“What do you mean, evidence?” he said, catching up to me.

“You should know.” I quickened my pace. Was he bluffing, or did he really not know the meaning of this bracelet?

“Hey, hold on a minute. Know what?” He grabbed my arm and whirled me around.

I struggled to escape, but his hold was too strong. And suddenly I was plunged back three years to when he had held me just as tightly. It had ended when, in a fit of rage, partly as a result of my goading, he had thrown me against the kitchen counter and broken my arm.

This time I took a deep breath and very calmly said, “Gareth, let go of me.”

It worked. I felt his grip loosen.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” he said.

I scanned his face looking for signs and saw the bully I now knew was Gareth. But was it the face of a killer?

“Tommy Whiteduck’s been shot,” I said and slipped from his grasp. I turned and continued heading towards my truck, not quite sure if I wouldn’t be feeling the same kind of slug that had ripped through Tommy.

For a few seconds, the only sound was my beating heart and then, “Meg, stop!”

By this time I was running, desperate to reach the safety of my truck. I could hear his footsteps gaining. I raced along the side of the house, around the corner and almost tripped over a piece of one of Louis’s discards. I caught myself and sped towards my truck. Gareth’s import was parked a good distance behind. He grabbed me within arm reach of the truck door.

“Release my arm, Gareth.”

He glared back at me, then let go. “You saying I had something to do with this shooting?”

“The bracelet says you were here when Tommy was shot.” I placed my hand on the door handle.

“Wasn’t me. Someone ripped it off me a couple of days ago.”

“You expect me to believe that? Or the police?”

I opened the truck’s door. But before I could spring inside, Gareth slammed it shut.

“Hand it over. No way you’re going to incriminate me,” he said.

“Never,” I retorted, straining to hear the sounds that would tell me the police were finally coming to investigate Tommy’s shooting. I stared into his angry eyes and dared him to hurt me.

But he crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. “I had nothing to do with Tommy’s shooting,” he said. “I just don’t want to get involved.”

“Afraid it’ll tarnish your oh-so-squeaky clean image?”

“Give me the bracelet, Meg.”

“If you’re so bloody innocent, why are you here?”

From his jacket pocket, he ripped out an envelope and threw it at me. It was addressed to Mr. Thomas Whiteduck. “Go on, open it,” he said. “It’s a job offer.”

“What did you do? Offer him thirty pieces of silver to betray his people?”

“I don’t know why you believe the mine will hurt those damn Indians. If anything, they’ll have more jobs than they’ll know what to do with.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

“Tommy’s father thought it was a good thing. He was the one who told us about gold. He and his partner.”

So I was right. Louis had been involved, and it probably explained the money Tommy’d found and the reason for Marie’s anger with Louis. Then I remembered what Eric had said about Louis’ involvement in a fake gold discovery some years ago and smiled inwardly. Wouldn’t it be a joke on Gareth and CanacGold if Louis had done it again?

“Who was his partner? Charlie Cardinal?”

Gareth picked up Tommy’s letter from the ground and returned it to his jacket pocket. “Nope,” he replied.

I was about to retort “liar”, when I realized his self-satisfied grin was telling me otherwise. Instead, I decided to knock the grin off his face.

“This partner could be a killer,” I said. “Might have decided he didn’t want to share the winnings with Louis.”

At which point, a torrent of rain began to fall. But Gareth didn’t move. Neither did I. Nor did I bother to flip my jacket hood over my head.

“Could be he shot Tommy too and killed Marie,” I continued.

He remained still, with his eyes riveted on me. The rain flattened his hair, coursed down his face and onto his crossed arms. He ignored it. Finally, he said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You could be mixed up with a killer.”

His eyes sparked. “Pile of crap.”

My ear caught the sound of a car splashing up the Whiteduck drive. I saw with relief the white paint of a police cruiser flashing through the trees. “You can tell that to the police,” I said.

The SQ police cruiser drove past Gareth’s car and came to a stop next to us. Out stepped the rigid form of Sgt. LaFramboise, joined by his partner.

LaFramboise cast a suspicious scowl in my direction. “Eh bien, madame. Curious, how you are always at the scene of crime, non?”

He turned his pointed nose to Gareth. “And you, monsieur, why you are here?”

Gareth smiled confidently and held the envelope so the officer could read the addressee, then returned it to his pocket. “I was just delivering this offer of employment to Tommy Whiteduck, when I ran into Miss Harris. She tells me, however, that the unfortunate man has had an accident. So if you don’t mind, I’ll get out of your hair and deliver this to him at the Somerset Hospital, which is where I assume he is. It’ll help to take his mind off his injuries.”

At that moment, Chief Decontie’s 4×4 cruiser crunched to a stop behind LaFramboise’s vehicle. He hopped out and sauntered towards us, with another Migiskan police officer trailing behind him. He nodded in my direction. LaFramboise said something to his partner in French, which I took to be an order to begin the search, for the cop motioned for the other cop to join him and the two of them walked towards the front door of the Whiteduck shack.

“No, not there,” I shouted. “Tommy was shot around back.”

LaFramboise peered at me. “And how know you this, madame?”

“I found blood and the bullet holes,” I blurted out guiltily. His tone made me feel as if I were the criminal.

“Show me,” he said. And we started to walk towards the back of the house. With this downpour, I doubted that much remained of the blood or the elongated “y” footprints.

It was at this point that I suddenly realized Gareth was no longer with us. I looked up in time to see the back end of his black sports car disappearing down the drive.

“Quick, after him,” I yelled. “I found his bracelet lying on the ground where Tommy was shot.” I held it up.

LaFramboise shouted something at his partner, who ran to the cruiser and with a jet of wet gravel and dirt sped after Gareth. Then, he turned his attention to the bracelet, “Why do you remove it, madame? It is no more good evidence. I do not know if it is true. I only know because you tell me.”

I started to get indignant at his implied accusation, then realized he was right. I should’ve left it exactly where I’d found it. I hastily apologized, then took him and Decontie around to the back of the house to show them the bullet holes in the outhouse door and the metal box where the twenty dollar bills now lay in a puddle of water.

For the next half hour, while the other policeman from the reserve took pictures of the site, LaFramboise and Decontie drilled me on what I’d found. Thankfully, we sat in the police cruiser, though to be truthful, remaining in the rain wouldn’t have made me any wetter.

By the time we were finished, the cop had returned without Gareth. His car had vanished before the chase had even begun, and although the officer had searched the area, he’d found no trace of Gareth. Infuriated, LaFramboise immediately radioed what I took to be a message alerting other police to be on the lookout for Gareth’s vehicle.

“And don’t forget the hospital,” I said in my halting French, which LaFramboise acknowledged with a curt nod.

Good, that should get him, I thought. Let’s see him try to brush off the police as easily as he did me. He’ll be forced to admit to his involvement in this whole sordid affair and identify the probable killer, Louis’s partner.

With a final word of warning not to leave the area, LaFramboise let me go. When I reached home, I found, much to my surprise a voice message from Tommy wanting me to visit him in the hospital. A call to the nursing station confirmed that he had gained consciousness sooner than expected, and although the doctor was with him at the moment, he should be free by the time I arrived.