A Justified Murder (Medlar Mystery #2)(68)

Everett drank deeply of the ice water Jack handed him, then rubbed his face with the cold cloth.

Jack and Kate flanked Sara on the couch.

“I did it,” Everett said. “It was all my fault. I may not seem so but I’m a very religious man. I’m going to hell for this. That poor woman. All because of me.”

Jack started to say something but Sara beat him to it.

“Who? Tell us what happened. Now!”

“Tayla. She—” He sniffed.

Kate reached across the coffee table and handed him a wad of tissues.

He blew his nose loudly. “Tayla. She—”

Sara and Jack looked like they were going to strangle the man.

Kate asked, “What did Tayla do?”

“You haven’t heard?” He looked at them. “I thought the sheriff would have called you.”

Sara squinted her eyes at him.

“Tayla confessed to the murder of Janet Beeson.”

They all gasped, even Chet.

That Everett had astonished them with a writer’s beloved weapon, a story, seemed to perk Everett right up. He took his time finishing off his glass of water, then waited while Jack went to the fridge door and refilled it.

Chet spoke. “Tell us everything that happened. Why did she kill the woman?”

“She didn’t,” Sara said. “She isn’t—”

The look Chet gave her made her stop talking. They were so quiet that the birds outside sounded loud.

“Well,” Everett began, “as you might remember, I was a bit perturbed during dear Janet’s memorial. Such a lovely lady. I miss her very much.”

So many words came to Sara that she began to choke. She coughed to cover herself, but she said nothing.

“After the service, Tayla invited me to lunch at the Mandarin in Miami. She is a very interesting woman. She told me she’d read everything I’d written and thought I was an undervalued writer. She said—”

When he saw Chet’s face, he stopped that line of the story. “Anyway, it was a very nice meal.”

The three on the couch sat up straight. Who lived in Fort Lauderdale and took people to a meal in Miami? Tayla must have had a very serious purpose. And considering what she did, yes, she was more than serious.

“I, uh...” Everett looked ashamed. “I drank too much. But then Tayla ordered a fifty-five-dollar bottle of wine and oh, it was delicious. Fruity, tart, and—” He cleared his throat. “I told her everything.”

“About what?” Chet asked.

“About my book. About the kidnapping.”

They didn’t dare look at each other for fear that they’d give too much away.

“What exactly did you tell her?” Chet asked, and they knew they were hearing the voice of a man who had gone up through the ranks to become chief of police.

“I, uh... I, uh...” Everett took a breath, then looked directly at Chet. “I embellished. I told Tayla that you could identify the kidnapper.”

Sara, Jack, and Kate turned to Chet. He gave a barely perceptible shake to his head. No, he had not told that.

“I’m sorry,” Everett said. “I made it up. I—”

“Why did you do that?” Jack asked. “Now you’re—”

Sara broke in. “Because that’s what writers do. Give us one fact and we can stretch it into a book. Go on, tell us how you came up with that idea.” She sounded almost proud of him. Some writer’s bond, maybe.

He glanced at Chet, then back at Sara. “I knew he was hiding something. I could feel it. And there had to be a reason he was so obsessed. It made sense that a rookie cop saw something but was too dumb to report it. Later, he realized what he’d seen and regretted it.”

Only a slight widening of Chet’s eyes betrayed that Everett had guessed the truth.

“What makes you think Tayla had anything to do with the kidnapping?” Sara asked.

“I’ve asked around about people.”

“Right,” Sara said. “Looking for stories. But what about Tayla?”

“No kids. Probably her husband’s fault. He wasn’t a likable man.” He looked hard at Sara. “But you know that very well, don’t you?”

Sara glared at him.

Everett leaned back on the couch. “Did you know that Tayla’s sister lived in Atlanta at the time of the kidnapping?”

“She’s Charlene’s mother?” Kate asked even though she knew the answer.

“Yeah, but the kid was here in Lachlan. She lived with her grandmother while her parents lived in China.”

“Japan,” Sara said.

“Oh right. Japan.”

Chet said, “So you think Tayla Kirkwood was the White Lily Kidnapper?”

“I think it’s possible,” Everett said. “Sometimes women want a baby so much that they’ll do anything to get one. Maybe Tayla was there in Atlanta and saw an unguarded baby and took it.”

“How did she hide from us?” Chet asked. “The police were there in minutes.”

Everett was silent.

“He hasn’t made that part up yet.” Sara’s voice held less pride than it had.

“So,” Jack said, “this morning Tayla confessed to murdering Janet Beeson.”