Promise Not To Tell(83)

“In that case the killer hasn’t had an opportunity to return the gun so that it can be discovered in your house.”

“You’re both crazy,” Laurel said. “I haven’t even looked at that damn gun in months. It’s still in the gun safe. Stay where you are. I’m going to close and lock the door. I’ll open the safe. If the gun is missing, I’ll let you know. If it’s not, I’m going to call the police and tell them that you two are trespassing and threatening me.”

Cabot politely removed his foot from the threshold. Laurel slammed the door closed. Virginia heard the bolt slide into place.

“This might not have been one of our better ideas,” Virginia said. “What are we going to do if she finds the gun in the safe?”

“We’ll think of something,” Cabot said.

A short time later Virginia heard muffled footsteps in the hall. Laurel unlocked the door and looked at them, stricken.

“It’s gone,” she croaked. “That bitch stole it.”

“Who are you talking about?” Virginia said.

“Kate Delbridge.” Laurel shook her head, torn between rage and something that bordered on panic. “She’s the one who told you I owned a gun, isn’t she? I knew she hated me. She was jealous. But I never thought she’d go this far. She set me up for murder just to get revenge? She must be crazy.”

“What makes you so sure Kate Delbridge took your gun?” Cabot asked.

“It had to be her. She was one of the few people who knew I bought the damned thing. That was before —”

“Before you and Josh Preston got involved in an affair?” Virginia finished quietly. “When you and Kate Delbridge were still friends?”

“Kate is convinced that I stole Josh away from her. But that’s not how it was. She was just a weekend fling. He got bored with her.” Laurel grimaced. “Just as he’s getting bored with me. That’s his pattern. I can see that now. I just don’t understand why Kate would murder Tucker Fleming.”

“I don’t think she did murder him,” Cabot said. “One more question. Ever hear of Quinton Zane or the cult he founded a couple of decades ago?”

“Oh, shit.” Laurel shuddered and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “I was afraid this had something to do with that old cult.”

CHAPTER 63

On a clear day the big house on Mercer Island would have had a stunning view of the Seattle skyline. But fog cloaked the scene in a featureless gray mist.

Cabot knocked on the front door. There was no answer. He hadn’t expected one.

He went around the side of the house, through the professionally tended gardens and down the sloping lawn to the private dock.

A sleek boat bobbed at the end of the wooden dock. Josh Preston, dressed in a dark windbreaker, was in the back of the boat. He was concentrating so intently on wiping down the wooden railing that he did not notice his visitor until Cabot stepped onto the dock.

“Doing a little cleanup work, Preston?” Cabot asked. “Blood spatter is always a problem. The stuff flies everywhere.”

Josh straightened abruptly, gripping the wet rag in one hand. “Sutter. What the hell are you doing here?”

Cabot came to a halt at the far end of the dock. “I thought we should have a little chat.”

“If this is about your investigation, forget it. I answered your questions. I don’t have anything else to say. As you can see, I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“You’re wasting your time. No matter how much you scrub down that boat, you’ll miss some traces of Tucker Fleming’s blood. The forensics people are really good. All they need is a trace amount and they’ll be able to nail you for the murder.”

Josh watched him, unmoving. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Get off my property before I call the cops.”

“I don’t think you’re going to call them, at least not until you get the boat cleaned up. But I used to be a cop and I can promise you that you’ll never get all the blood. My advice is to sink the boat. That’s your only chance of getting rid of the evidence.”

“You’re not making any sense. What’s all this talk about Fleming’s blood? Are you telling me he’s dead?”

“Yep, and by the way, you waited a beat too long before you asked that question. You might want to be a little faster off the mark when the police come around asking about the death of yet another Night Watch employee. And, sooner or later, they will come around.”

“If the police thought I killed Fleming, they would be here by now. Instead, I find myself talking to you. Why is that?”

“You know why. I’m here to talk business. I know you murdered Fleming and planned to pin the blame on Laurel Jenner. Maybe, under other circumstances, you would have let Kate Delbridge take the fall. But she left town, so you were forced to use Laurel.”

“That’s pure bullshit. You can’t prove any of it.”

“Maybe not all of it, but I don’t have to do that. All I need to do is give the cops a reason to suspect that you were the killer. See, I know how cops think. They like the basics – motive, opportunity and the weapon, preferably with fingerprints and gunshot residue.”

“You don’t have any of those things, but I’d be interested to hear exactly what you think you’ve got.”