CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

It is time for me to take a stand. I have spent too much time waffling between my commitment to stay out of the family's affairs and my desire to seek justice for Lila. I've been thoroughly unsuccessful in staying out of the family's affairs, so I decide to throw myself wholly into solving this case.

I am convinced that this case hinges on George and Violet. Violet is a known murderer, and George has a clear violent streak and an even clearer motive.

The connection between Violet and Lila is thin, but the connection between George and Lila is far more tangible. Perhaps Lila knew where the surrender document is. Perhaps she had it on her when she was killed, then George should have seen it, but it's possible that he had to move too quickly to think to look. Perhaps she lied to him and said that she burned it. Perhaps she did burn it.

Either way, he is my primary suspect, so I decide I have to learn more about him. With that in mind, I decide to take a trip to his antique store the next day to see what I can deduce about the man.

When I head downstairs, however, I see Violet dressed in shoes and a shawl with a cane in her hand. She's dressed to go out.

I still want to visit George, but this is an opportunity I can't pass up. Violet may be senile, but she's murdered and disposed of a body before. Even if she didn't commit this murder, the odds are better than even that she knows where Lila is buried.

I wait for her to leave the house before descending the stairs. Then I watch through the window and remain in the house until I see her reach the gate. I follow quickly but take care not to make too much noise. The old woman's nose is sharp, and I don't want to risk her learning that she's being followed.

I reach the gate and see her proceeding not down the road but into the forested area beyond the estate. There are a few acres not claimed by any of the residents in the neighborhood, and it's into this plot she walks.

I follow, keeping a distance and obscuring myself behind trees as much as possible. My heart pounds with excitement, but as she continues to walk and mutter to herself, my excitement wanes. Perhaps she really is just a senile old woman who has wandered off.

But perhaps this is where Lila is truly buried, and perhaps I'm about to discover the answers I've been searching for all this time.

I follow her for another hundred yards or so but stop when I see another figure walk from behind a tree and stride toward her. My eyes widen when I recognize the figure of George Baumann!

A lot of pieces fall into place in my mind, but a lot of questions reveal themselves as well. How are the two of them connected? Have they been working together? Does Violet know that George murdered Lila and is blackmailing him? Perhaps Violet murdered Lila and George is blackmailing her?

I creep closer, keeping behind trees. When I'm within twenty yards or so, I can hear

George Baumann's voice. "Cut the crap, Violet. We both know you're only faking it."

Violet scoffs. "Quit acting tough, George. You might be Irish, but that doesn't make you a fighter."

"Wrong race, Violet. And again, cut the fucking crap. We're going to have a conversation right now. A real one. Because I'm pretty sure you're the only person in this family smart enough to realize that pissing me off is a really bad idea."

Violet takes a step back, and when she says, "I'll call the police!" I catch a trace of real fear in her voice.

There's an awareness behind that fear as well. It's not just fear for her safety. It's fear of exposure. Guilt.

"Sure thing," George says breezily. "Here. Use my cell phone. Get them out here to question me so I can tell them all about what happened to Deirdre McCoy."

Silence. Then, "That was fifty years ago."

"And you'll still hang for it. Or fry. Or… Do they use lethal injection now? Anyway, you get my point."

"I don't give a shit what happens to me," Violet says. "But you stay the fuck away from my daughter."

The confusion in Violet's voice is gone. So she's faked her dementia after all.

George lifts his chin and takes a step closer to her. "Or what? You're a little old to be killing people."

"I didn't murder her. You know that."

"I know you did ."

"It was an accident," she protests.

"Yes, you accidentally pushed her down a well."

"It's the truth." Violet sounds like she's near tears.

"Maybe it is. But here's what's also the truth. Deirdre McCoy was pregnant with Johnathan Hendrickson's child. Your husband's child."

My eyes widen. So George knows about Deirdre's affair.

"I'll be honest, Vi. Maybe the police won't care about the murder. After all, it'll be damned hard to prove. I'm sure they could dig up the ground where the well used to be and find her bones, but proving that you pushed her will be next to impossible. But I'll bet you that Elizabeth believes it. I'll bet she has some feelings about the fact that you killed her half-sister of half-brother. She wasn't your number one fan growing up, was she?"

Silence from Violet.

"Right. So maybe we don't give her a real reason to wish Dad had married Deirdre instead of you."

"Fuck you."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'll pass. What I won't do is let Elizabeth steal my damned money. I told her about that document. It's mine. You're going to help me find it."

"I'm not going to do shit."

"Then I'll bury you right next to Lila Benson."

I cover my mouth to stifle my gasp. So I was right. George is the killer, after all.

"You're an evil man for what you did to her. She wasn't going to hurt anyone."

"She was going to steal the artifacts for herself. Do you think she was going to share one dime with your daughter? No, that was going to be her severance package."

"That doesn't mean she deserved to die."

"But Deirdre McCoy did?"

Violet hesitates. "It was an accident."

George chuckles. "Sure it was. But you didn't shed any tears, did you? I'm asking honestly. I wasn't born when it happened. I'm just wondering if you wept at her funeral, or if you just laughed inside and then went home to be a frigid bitch to Johnathan and Elizabeth for the next fifty-two years to punish them."

"Stay away from my family."

"No. You're going to help me find that fucking document. It's mine. I've earned it."

"How? How have you earned it?"

"Because…" His face reddens. "Damn it, Lila and Elizabeth wouldn't know it existed without me! They owe me!"

"We don't owe you shit," Violet sneers. "And Lila didn't either."

George narrows his eyes. When he speaks again, his voice is low and deadly. I have to strain to hear it. "You know, Lila started talking big, too, and I put her in her place. Do I have to put you in your place too?"

Violet's momentary bravado fades. In its place is a plaintive fear. "What do you expect me to do? I'm seventy-four years old. I can't go digging through the gardens looking for a piece of damned paper. Even if I could, they'd ship me off to a nursing home the moment they caught me. Elizabeth only barely tolerates me as it is."

"You can listen," George replied. "They'll find it eventually. James is a stubborn asshole, but he'll run out of room eventually, and then he'll tear the whole estate apart to find it."

"For eighty thousand? You're delusional. Eighty thousand isn't even a drop in the bucket."

"It's enough to pay for a bankruptcy attorney that will keep him out of jail. He can drink himself to death with cheap vodka instead of toilet wine. More to the point, it's enough to pay enough of my debt that I can finally pull my head above water."

"For what? Two more years? You're in the wrong business, George. You and James are two sides of the same stupid coin."

Geroge's hand moves like a blur. Violet falls to the ground, and I flinch toward her to come to her aid.

I stop myself and quickly return behind my tree. Annabelle might feel herself a match for George, but I don't share her confidence. If I reveal myself now, George will probably kill both of us.

So instead, I listen as George berates the weeping Violet.

"Keep your judgment to yourself. Unless you'd rather end up as the subject of a true crime special. Could be as the murderer, could be as the victim. Hell, why not both?" His voice hardens. "Find me that document, Violet."

He spins on his heel and vanishes into the trees. For a while, I remain frozen to the spot. It's not until I see Violet get to her feet that I leave.

I feel bad for leaving her to her own devices. She may be responsible for Deirdre McCoy's death, but she's only an old woman now.

But I can't risk Violet learning that I know the truth. I don't know how she'll react. She could tell George that I stole the document in an attempt to protect herself. I still need to bring Lila to justice, and the best way to do that right now is on my own.

So, I rush to the kitchen. The door opens just as I enter it, and I busy myself making tea, just in case Violet sees me when she walks inside..

She doesn't, and by the time the tea is ready, I'm relaxed enough to think about what to do next.

I want to bring George to justice, but I have no proof other than what I've overheard. I highly doubt Violet will risk having her own secret exposed, so I can't risk asking her to corroborate what I know. If I knew exactly where Lila was buried, it would be as easy as digging her up and telling the police where to find her.

My thoughts return to the geranium garden. Everything seems to return to that spot. Elizabeth claims she's talking to the Secret Keeper, but maybe she's talking to Lila's ghost instead. Lila was looking for the document. George is still looking for the document. It's not outside of the realm of possibility that they both happened to be snooping on the grounds at the same time. Perhaps George killed her and buried her here.

That would implicate the Greenwoods too. They've been jealously guarding whatever secret lies behind that gate. I still don't know why they would do that and not report the murder to George. I suppose they would do that to protect Violet, but at some point, they won't be willing to risk the repercussions that come with hiding her past. Maybe that's why George is so desperate. Maybe he knows he's on borrowed time.

I should go to the police. Donnelly might fear that Greenwoods, but their power is, apparently, a sham. Surely the entire police department doesn't fear them enough to ignore me if I reveal what I've overheard.

But what if I'm wrong? I thought I had compelling evidence against the Greenwoods when I first went to the police, but Donnelly tore apart my reasoning like it was papier-mache. Of course, I was wrong then, or at least not entirely right. I am right this time.

But I don't have proof. What if Donnelly decides I'm being paranoid once more? I can't risk that. I need real evidence.

I have to dig up those flowers. Whatever the risk, I must uncover the smoking gun that will solve this mystery once and for all.