Deadly Secrets Read online

  Chapter 3

  I awoke from my swoon to the sound of my mother’s voice. “Marcus, what really happened? I don’t believe that who-ha about some rogue tourist. People around here might be reckless drivers at times, but no one would almost run a pedestrian down in front of the courthouse and then speed off!”

  I made the decision instantly to feign sleep. I wanted to hear this conversation, and I knew that it would not be continued with honesty if Mother and Marcus knew I had come to my senses.

  “Gail, I don’t know what really happened. Miranda and I got separated coming out of the courthouse. Once I was outside, I spotted her in the street with a black sedan barreling down on her. I screamed out her name, but I don’t think she heard me. I ran as fast as I could, pushing through the crowd, trying to get to her in time. There was no way I could have made it to her side in time. When I got to her, Flynn had pulled her out of the way.”

  “Did Flynn say anything to her, Marcus? Anything at all?”

  “Yes, he told her to watch her step; it looked like someone wanted her dead.”

  I heard a horrified gasp and knew that it came from my mother. “What are we going to do, Marcus? They could be in danger.”

  “I think so too, but I am not sure what we can do, Gail. I don’t have any idea who would want to hurt Miranda. If I had not seen Flynn risk his neck to save her, my vote would be for him. Now, I just don’t know.”

  “Neither, do I. What about the Private Investigator who worked on Miranda’s divorce case?”

  “Dana? What about her?”

  “I think we should ask her to do some digging.”

  “Gail, it’s not that I disagree, but what information can we give her to start with; even a PI as good as Dana Glower needs a starting point.”

  “Since we both agree that it is unlikely for Flynn to be behind any threats, I think we need to start with the only other link to danger of which we are aware.”

  “And that would be what exactly?”

  “Marcus, surely your astute mind can put one and one together as well as mine. I am speaking of Grandma Hannigan’s murder, or course!”

  I heard Marcus emit a sound that was a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “Surely, you don’t think these two events could be related?”

  “The idea does seem a bit far-fetched, granted. However, there are some facts that we should take into account.”

  “Like what, dear?”

  “Well for one, the police have never solved her murder. The police found no suspects, no evidence, no motive, and the case is still open. It has always troubled Garth and me that so little could be done.”

  “I will give you points for the strangeness of that case. Yes, it threw me when the police deemed her murder the result of a botched home invasion. The responding officer’s report just did not fit the profile of a crime committed by a small time hoodlum.”

  “Go on, tell me exactly which points bothered you.”

  “Well, there was no sign of forced entry. At that time of night, Grace would have set her alarm. She was conscientious about that. That area was a bit rough ten years ago, and she was no fool.”

  “Garth believes that she knew her killer. He thinks that she let him or her inside the house. After that, he doesn’t know what might have occurred. Was the killer planning her murder from the moment they came to the door, or did something occur during the visit which set him or her off?”

  “Gail, from working in the system this long, I have to say that the killer intended to murder her. Her time of death was 2 AM. The alarm company showed the alarm was deactivated a little after 1 AM. No one makes a social call at that time of night.”

  “You’re right. I believe that whoever murdered Grace wanted something, and since the police found nothing missing, I think it is still in the house.”

  “Gail, you mean to say that you think someone is targeting Miranda for the same reason that her grandmother was murdered?”

  “Yes, that is exactly what I think, Marcus. I just don’t understand the timing. Why come after her so long after the murder? Why wait until now?”

  Deep in the pit of my stomach, I felt the first pangs of fear begin to bubble up. I clamped my lips together to contain my emotion. I did not want to give myself away. I needed them both to believe I was ignorant of the conversation. Instead of the distressed cry I wanted to vocalize, I groaned as if I were in mild discomfort and shifted restlessly on the couch.

  Instantly, the conversation across the room stopped, and hurried footsteps came to my side. “Miranda, dear, it’s mother. How are you feeling?”

  I lifted my hand, rubbed my forehead, and opened my eyes. “Mom? What are you doing here?”

  Marcus’s head popped into my line of sight. “I called her. You passed out on me and scared the stuffing out of me. I wanted to call an ambulance, but Edith thought that would be overkill.”

  I chuckled, “Remind me to thank Edith! I’m fine.” I sat up and put my feet firmly on the floor. “I think the shock finally got to me. That and I didn’t eat any breakfast.”

  “Miranda, you have to take better care of yourself, dear.”

  “I know mother. I usually do, but the thought of eating made my stomach turn this morning. The last thing I needed was to throw up in the courtroom; Judge Merryweather was in a mood as it was.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Exactly,” I grumbled.

  “I think now would be a good time for you to get a bite to eat. It’s almost 11AM now.”

  My stomach rumbled. “I am hungry, but look at me, I’m a mess!” Despite my hunger, my clothes were still dirty, my pantyhose were torn, and my hands and knees were scraped raw.

  My mother looked at me appraisingly, “Well, it’s a good thing I ran by your house and picked you up a few things.”

  Mom handed me an overnight gym bag that I recognized as my own. I unzipped it and peeked inside unsure of what I would find. My mother was still on her quest to have me dress like a southern belle, and I was on a quest to dress like a teenage tomboy.

  “Don’t look so scared, Miranda. It’s only a pair of black slacks and your light blue tank top.”

  “Sneakers?”

  “No, dear, I could not bring myself to bring your ratty old sneakers. I brought a pair of your sandals, the yellow flats that you wear to brunch most Sundays.”

  I smiled at her to show that I appreciated her restraint. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Miranda, go ahead and use the washroom to clean up and change. Your mother and I wanted to make a call anyway to schedule an appointment.”

  I nodded and tried to look disinterested as I gathered my things and went out the door then down the hall to the washroom. I was 99.9% sure that phone call was to Dana. I would have to get the details later. It would be hard to pry the information out of her, but she was a good friend. She would give in eventually. In the meantime, I needed a drink, and I knew just whom to call.