Chapter 19
Nineteen
With Rachel settled and the sheets in the dryer, I finally found time to call Mendoza to tell him what had happened. And, of course, got his voice mail. He was probably still sitting in on the interviews with Konstantin and Yuri and the Russian girls.
Boy, was he in for a surprise when he picked up his messages.
“It’s Gina,” I said. “You’ll never guess what happened.
I picked up Rachel from the hospital and took her to the house in Hillwood to recuperate, since they wouldn’t let her leave unless she had someone to stay with.
I’ll get Zachary, too, when they let him out—probably tomorrow morning—and we’ll all camp out here for a few days.
And speaking of camping out… you’ll never guess who we found when we got here. ”
I took a breath, both because I needed one, and to prolong the suspense.
“Steven and Anastasia! Set up, as pretty as you please, in two of my guest rooms. She pulled a gun on me when I walked through the door, although we got that part of it straightened out. And she says—they both say—that they didn’t shoot Mrs. Grimshaw.
I can’t think of a reason why they would have shot Mrs. Grimshaw, but I told them you’d need to test the gun, and if they hadn’t shot Mrs. Grimshaw, then they had nothing to worry about.
Anastasia said that someone else shot her, and then that someone tried to get into her house.
Anastasia’s house. Or Araminta Tucker’s house, I guess, but the house where Anastasia was staying.
She said they were coming through the back door, and she ran out the front and walked all the way to the university, where she intercepted Steven the next morning. And the two of them went on the run.”
I took another breath.
“Steven seems pretty certain Anastasia is his daughter. He said he knew her mother back when—‘back when’ being the time before the girl was born, I assume—and that she has his eyes. And she does, sort of. But I’m sure they’ll have a paternity test done, to make sure.
Anyway, I told them what happened last night, and that Yuri and Konstantin are no longer a threat, so they decided to venture back into the world.
I told them to talk to Diana first. If you contact her, she can probably tell you where to find them. ”
I took another breath. Had I left anything out?
“I think that’s all. Except for who actually shot Griselda, I guess.
I don’t think it was Anastasia. She seemed sincere when she said she didn’t.
And it couldn’t have been Konstantin and Yuri.
They didn’t know about Araminta Tucker’s house until the next night, after they beat the information out of Zachary.
So while I’m sure vice and ICE are happy with you for putting them on the trail of Konstantin and Yuri, you still have a murder to solve.
Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. If not, I guess I’ll see you around.”
I paused another second. I’m not sure why. It wasn’t like I expected him to answer. And of course he didn’t.
“Bye, Detective,” I said, and disconnected the call. And sat down at the kitchen table to wait for the sheets to make it through the wash cycle so I could throw them in the dryer.
Had I left anything out?
I didn’t think so. Nothing important, anyway.
Except maybe the ransom note. Someone had sent it, or put it on Diana’s doormat.
And it hadn’t been Steven and Anastasia.
As Steven had said, it was his money. And if Anastasia really was his daughter, she had no reason to want to steal his cash.
Even if she were mercenary, and I had no reason to think she was, she’d be better off keeping on his good side.
And that was aside from the fact that Steven had sworn they were together the other morning.
So it wasn’t Steven and Anastasia.
And it couldn’t have been Konstantin and Yuri. There was no reason to think they even knew who Steven was, let alone where he lived.
Although Zachary might have told them that, too. Assuming they’d asked. I’d have to find out if they had. But even if they knew who Steven was, and where he lived, was a ransom note something that would have crossed their minds?
Somehow I didn’t think so. And the Russian girls wouldn’t have been able to get out of their room and over to Richland, where Diana and Steven lived.
Diana herself?
It would have been easy for her to set it up, anyway. Just unlock the front door and drop the note on the mat, and then call me, frantic.
So Diana had had means and opportunity. But maybe not so much in the way of motive. Like Steven, it was her money. If she wanted it, she could just take it out of the bank.
Would it benefit her somehow for us to think that Steven had been kidnapped instead of running off with his young mistress, which is what we’d been thinking then?
I couldn’t see how.
So who did that leave? If Diana was out, and Steven and Anastasia were out, and Konstantin and Yuri were out, and the Russian girls were out… who was left?
Anybody?
The only other person I could think of was Araminta Tucker.
She’d known about Steven and the girl. She’d known who Steven was, and that he was a professor at the university, so she might have figured out where he lived.
A quick computer search or even checking the phone directory might get her that information.
And she did get around. I didn’t know how, but she’d made it to the ice hockey game the other night, so she had access to some form of transportation.
She might have made it to Diana’s house in the early hours of yesterday morning.
The other shoe dropped, and in retrospect, I can only marvel that it took as long as it did.
Araminta Tucker knew all about Steven and Anastasia. She’d rented them her house. Right next to her sister-in-law. The sister-in-law with the million dollar insurance policy.
Anastasia had said that she’d been woken up by a loud noise. The shot that killed Griselda, I assumed. And then someone had been at the back door to her house. Araminta’s house.
Someone who had been on their way in through the back door when Anastasia ran out the front.
That’s what she’d said, wasn’t it? That someone had been on their way in?
There’d been no sign of forced entry the next morning.
That’s when I’d been skulking around Araminta’s house, and also when Mendoza had taken me inside, a little later in the afternoon.
If someone had tried to force the back door then, the way they had the following night, one of us would have noticed.
The way we’d noticed the following day, after Konstantin and Yuri had made their visit.
So had the person who shot Griselda had a key?
Who’d have a key to Araminta’s house other than Anastasia? Steven, presumably, but he’d been home with Diana.
Griselda might have. Araminta’s sister-in-law and neighbor.
Patton’s sister. The one who stuck her nose into everything.
Yes, Griselda had surely had a key to her brother’s house next door.
And it was possible that whoever shot Griselda had gotten the key to Araminta’s house from Griselda’s house.
But that still left me with an unknown murderer.
And of course Araminta would have a key to her own house. All landlords do, just in case.
So maybe Araminta killed Griselda.
I turned that thought over a couple of times.
Mendoza had said it once, that she was the obvious suspect. I’d laughed at the idea, but he was right, of course. She lived next door, or used to. She was Griselda’s sister-in-law. They didn’t like each other. And she inherited the money.
Assisted living isn’t cheap. That nice million dollar life insurance policy would probably come in very handy.
The hundred thousand dollars from Diana would be helpful, too.
Araminta had been at the Arena last night. She was the only person involved in the case—that I knew about—who had been.
As Sherlock Holmes used to say—I think it was Sherlock Holmes—when you’ve eliminated all the other possibilities, the only suspect that’s left is the murderer, even if it doesn’t make any sense.
Or something like that.
Maybe I’d just go pay her a friendly little visit. Make sure she made it home from the Arena in one piece last night. Tell her that Konstantin and Yuri were in prison and that we’d found Anastasia and Steven. And see what she said.
I grabbed the phone again, and dialed Mendoza back.
And got his voicemail again. “I’m going to see Araminta,” I told him, and laid out the reasons why.
“I’ll be careful. It won’t be like last time.
I won’t be taken by surprise. I won’t eat or drink anything.
And I’m sure she’s not going to pull out a gun and blow me away right in the middle of the assisted living facility.
I’ll just see what she says—if she lets anything slip—and then get back to you. ”
Maybe I’d tell her I’d like to keep Edwina, and that I’d be happy to pay for her. If Araminta accepted money, that might be a clue that she was guilty.
I hung up the phone and tiptoed up to the second floor to check on Rachel. She was sound asleep, so I left a note next to the bed telling her where I’d gone and why. After hesitating, I added a post-script: If I’m not back in three hours, call Mendoza.
I tiptoed back down. Edwina lifted her head to look at me, but seemed pretty content to be stretched out on the rug in the kitchen. “I’ll be back,” I told her. “Rachel’s here. I don’t want to bring you, just in case Araminta takes one look at you and changes her mind about wanting to keep you.”
Of course, if she had killed her sister-in-law and was going to prison, she couldn’t take Edwina with her. But I wasn’t willing to take any chances. So I left the dog on the kitchen rug and headed back out.