Page 39 of The Jefferson Key (Cotton Malone 7)
“No. Benedict Howard.” Moen started the engine and took off like a rocket.
She knew he was going to miss driving for her. “I don’t think so,” she said. “The people who have been attacked have all been female. It’s practice. Or maybe someone who really likes killing and hasn’t had the opportunity to get to his victim.”
Merida didn’t answer.
Kateri hung up.
“Benedict Howard is rich,” Moen said. “It’s always money.”
“Not always. Greed. Revenge. Love. Those are the big three. In this case, Merida does have money—she was married to a very wealthy man and her stepchildren hate her.” Kateri texted Merida. “So maybe revenge. The question is—who killed the assassin?”
Moen answered almost before she finished asking. “Another assassin. The one who wants to get paid.” His pale cheeks got that mottled red coloring that meant he was excited. “Call her.”
Kateri hit redial. “She isn’t answering.”
“Doesshe answer? She can’t speak.”
“She can sign and she can text. And yes, I already texted her, told her I was afraid for her life and to get back to me right away. She hasn’t.”
“That’s not good.”
“No.” Kateri’s calm façade hid a wealth of anxiety. “What’s in the morgue can wait—it’s not going anywhere. Head to the B and B.”
He handed her the microphone. “Call in the nearest law enforcement unit. They can beat us there.”
“No. We’ve got a paid assassin, one who was good enough to recognize and kill his or her rival. We know he likes to torment his victims, that he’s strong, intelligent and meticulous. Like a college professor. We won’t want everyone swooping in, sirens blasting, so he gets in a hurry, gets sloppy.” Kateri thought hard. “Merida doesn’t like Benedict Howard, but he’s the kind of man who gets things done. Let me call him… not that I have his number, and wealthy men aren’t listed in the phone book.”
“Phone book? What’s a…?”
Sometimes Moen made her feel so old and creaky. “Don’t worry about it, kid. I’ll call the B and B.” She punched in the number and let it ring.
The answering machine picked up and Phoebe’s cheerful recorded voice said, “Thank you for calling the Good Knight Manor Bed and Breakfast…”
“Where’s Sean Weston?” Moen asked. “He’s got a thing for Merida Falcon. In his free time, he’s always hanging around trying to catch a glimpse of her. Maybe he’s there now.”
“It’s really late. You think he’s there now?”
“Maybe?” Moen sounded uncertain.
The chill Kateri felt grew stronger. “Maybe he’s the killer.”
“What makes you say that? He’s a great guy!”
“No one thought the assassin was anything but a cleaning woman with four kids and an abusive husband.” Kateri pulled out her phone. “Let me call Bergen and Garik, notify them, tell them we’ve got a situation and we need to go in quietly. They’ll know what to do.”
As Kateri and Moen drove along, the streetlights gave off an eerie blue illumination that made Kateri wish for a clear night sky and a full moon. But the marine layer, those high clouds off the ocean, had come in and covered the sky, and a few wisps slipped down to coil around the lights like ghosts dancing to unheard music.
Too many ghosts lately. Too many deaths.
Tonight, they needed to save her friend.
***
Benedict sat down with his laptop and Merida’s and, without a twinge of conscience, used Merida’s software to move the proof of embezzling from him to Rose and Albert. They would be surprised. But not as surprised as when they discovered his notation beside the unexplained fee they’d paid to a yacht mechanic at the time of his parents’ death. He wondered if it would occur to them that murdering his parents was cruel and immoral, or whether they were so lost to decency they’d be bewildered by his defection.
Damn them. They deserved so much worse and yet, for them, nothing could be worse than losing the business. The business was their only love, their only passion, their only need.
Standing, he gathered his computer gear and headed into the bedroom to pack. On the nightstand, he discovered the note card Merida had made depicting Carl Klineman’s message.
