Chapter 15 The Pantry Summit and Broken Alibis #2
"The gate logs only had four vehicles," Frank said grimly. "Yours, Luke’s flatbed truck, Julian Croft’s rental sedan... and Martha Gable’s old Chevy pickup."
"And the carriage house keys," I said, the words tasting like copper. "The duplicate brass ring from the kitchen hook. The estate inventory logs showed only two sets existed while the house was in probate. I had one set in my apron pocket. Who had the other?"
"Martha," Frank answered. "She’s had the housekeeping master ring for twenty-five years. Maggie, where is Martha right now?"
"She was upstairs in the linen gallery twenty minutes ago," I said, glancing toward the ceiling. "Sorting lace tablecloths for tomorrow’s preview."
"Keep your distance," Frank ordered, urgency ratcheting up. "I’ve got two cruisers rolling up the mountain lane right now. My siren’s off, but I’ll be at the front portico in under four minutes. Do not confront her, Maggie. Do you hear me?"
"We hear you, Frank," I said. "Hurry."
The call clicked off.
Birdie stared at the dark phone screen in shock. "I don't believe it. Martha Gable? A cold-blooded killer? She makes elderberry jam for the church auxiliary! She knitted a sweater for Buster last winter that was two sizes too big, but the thought was sweet!"
"No," I said suddenly, shaking my head violently as a glaring contradiction hit me. "No, it doesn't make sense. It doesn't work, Birdie."
Luke stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "What doesn't work, Maggie?"
"The motive!" I slammed my hand down on the counter, rattling the brass loupe. "Think about it! If Martha Gable waited thirty years for this covenant to come due... if her entire life’s purpose was to restore Hamish Gable’s land to the mountain community trust...
why on earth would she destroy the ledger? "
Luke’s eyes widened slightly. "She wouldn't. The ledger was the only legal instrument that could prove the covenant."
"Exactly!" I said, adrenaline surging hot and clear through my veins.
"If Julian Croft had the ledger in his hands in the carriage house, Martha wouldn't have killed him to take it and hide it! She would have marched straight down to the courthouse with it on Tuesday afternoon! She would have slapped that 1845 Moravian document onto the county clerk’s desk in front of every television camera in Western North Carolina! "
"Then where is the ledger?" Birdie asked, throwing her hands in the air. "It wasn't on Julian’s body. It wasn't in his rental car. Sheriff Lawson searched the carriage house top to bottom with four deputies and two sniffer dogs. If Martha has the ledger, why is she still here ironing pillowcases?"
"Because she doesn't have it," I whispered, the truth crystallizing with terrifying clarity. "She never got it."
I looked down at the tape on the counter—the tiny flecks of antique brass verdigris from the murder weapon.
"Martha was in the carriage house on Tuesday at two-fifteen," I said, piecing the scene together.
"She saw Julian sneaking toward the carriage house carrying the Moravian desk drawers.
She had the master key, so she followed him inside.
She confronted him about the covenant ledger. There was an argument."
"And then?" Luke prompted, his voice tense, every muscle in his broad frame coiled to move.
"And then Julian attacked her—or Martha grabbed the heavy brass beam scale off the workbench to protect herself," I reasoned, staring toward the scullery door.
"The verdigris on her cuff came from holding the scale, or struggling with Julian over it. But look at the angle of Julian’s head wound in the autopsy report Frank shared!
Julian was six feet tall. The blow that crushed his skull came down from above and behind him at a steep, downward forty-five-degree angle with tremendous physical force! "
Birdie’s jaw dropped. "Martha is barely four-foot-eleven! Even standing on an apple crate, she couldn't generate that kind of leverage!"
"She didn't swing the fatal blow," I said, my heart thumping against my ribs. "Martha was struggling with Julian over the scale... and someone else entered the carriage house behind them. A second person."
"A third party," Luke breathed, his gaze darting toward the pantry door. "Someone who struck Julian down from behind, took advantage of the violent struggle, and grabbed the ledger while Martha was in shock."
"And Martha couldn't go to the sheriff," Birdie whispered, horror dawning on her face. "Because her fingerprints were all over the brass scale, her master key was in the lock, and without the ledger in her hands, nobody in the county would have believed her story over the Vance family lawyers!"
"She’s not the killer," I said, looking between Luke and Birdie with chilling certainty. "She’s the only surviving eyewitness. And whoever actually killed Julian Croft and took that ledger is still looking for the missing cipher pages—which means Martha Gable isn't a suspect."
I reached out and gripped Luke’s forearm, the coarse canvas of his jacket solid beneath my fingers.
"She’s the killer's next target. And she’s upstairs in the linen gallery all alone right now."