Blogger Bundle Volume VIII: SBTB's Harlequins That Hooked You Read online

  “That was very wise of you,” Dane said.

  “Oh, we didn’t want anything spoiling Annie’s birthday surprise,” Jennifer said.

  Placing himself behind Annie’s chair, Dane scanned the room. Many of the faces seemed familiar and he realized he’d seen most of them at the Robinsons’s home after Halley’s funeral. The two people he didn’t expect to see were Richard and Gloria Hughes. They stood across the room, champagne flutes in their hands. Richard nodded at Dane and gave him a broad, politician’s smile.

  One by one Annie opened the gifts, dutifully thanked each person as she gushed and gooed over the individual items. She dreaded the thought of spending hours writing out appropriate thank-you notes. But despite her abhorrence of many old Southern customs, thank-you notes were an ingrained part of her personality.

  Three gifts remained. Jennifer handed her a small rectangular box, covered in plain white paper, with no bow or ribbon.

  “We want to save my gift and Aunt Vera and Uncle Royce’s till last,” Jennifer said.

  Annie ripped open the paper and tossed it into the sack at her side where she’d placed the other wrappings. She held a plain brown cardboard box in her hand. Someone certainly hadn’t gone to any trouble or expense, she thought, then lifted the lid. A stack of five cassette tapes lay nestled inside. Annie dumped them into her hand and looked through them. An eclectic assortment of music tapes—from country to classical. The tapes looked as if they’d been well used.

  A shiver raced up Annie’s spine. There was no note to acknowledge the gift, but she had an odd feeling she knew who had sent it.

  “Isn’t there a card?” Vera asked.

  “No, there isn’t.” Annie grabbled in the sack at her side, pulled out the crumpled white wrapping paper and turned it over. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the handwriting on the back side of the paper.

  “It’s from Halley Robinson, my dear,” Vera said innocently. “She mailed the birthday gift to me before—” she sighed “—before she died. I’ve kept it in a safe place for three weeks, knowing how much it would mean to you.”

  Annie sensed the tension in the room and noticed that Richard Hughes had disappeared. Uncle Royce edged his way toward Annie.

  “Goodness, Vera,” Jennifer said, agitation in her voice. “Didn’t you know that Annie has been expecting a package from Halley, something to do with a story she was working on when she was murdered?”

  “Oh, my!” Vera swooned. “I had no idea. No one told me. Did they? Besides, those tapes aren’t evidence of any kind. They’re a birthday gift.”

  Royce Layman planted a sturdy arm around his wife and patted her consolingly. “No harm done. It would appear that this is indeed what it appears to be—a birthday gift—and nothing more.”

  “Does that mean that the package Halley mailed from Point Clear was this birthday gift and not some sort of criminal evidence?” Jennifer asked.

  Gathering all her strength, Annie forced herself to reply calmly, “Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

  Dane knew something was amiss. Annie might fool everyone else, including her mother, but she couldn’t fool him. Leaning over the arm of her chair, he said softly, “Want me to take care of those tapes for you?”

  She nodded, then handed him the tapes and the wrapping paper, which he promptly slid into his pockets. Afterward, Annie opened the two remaining gifts. She gasped when she lifted the lid from the velvet box that held her aunt and uncle’s gift.

  “It’s your grandmother’s cameo,” Vera said. “You’re the only grandchild, so it’s rightfully yours. Something you can pass down to your own daughter someday.” Using a lace handkerchief, Vera wiped the tears from her eyes.

  Annie hugged her aunt, thanked her profusely, then tore into her mother’s gift, which turned out to be a week’s vacation in Paris.

  “After all this is over, you’ll need to get away for a while,” Jennifer said.

  Annie counted the minutes until she thought it wouldn’t seem odd that she wanted to leave her own birthday party. But after several guests bid the family good-night, Annie tugged her mother up to her side and said, “Would it be rude if Dane and I left now? I’m tired and—”

  “Was there something in Halley’s gift?” Jennifer asked.

  Annie nodded.

  “Y’all go on. I’ll make your excuses. But be sure you thank Aunt Vera again. She worked very hard to make tonight perfect for you.”

  Within fifteen minutes, she and Dane were inside the Navigator, the first of the five tapes playing as they drove through the Florence streets toward Annie’s house.

  “I can’t believe that Aunt Vera had the package this whole time. And bless her sweet heart, she had no idea what she had.”

  “Read Halley’s note again,” Dane said.

  Annie smoothed out the wrinkled paper.

  “‘Happy Birthday. I’m sending you my favorite tapes. Hope you don’t mind that they’re slightly used or that I didn’t have time for ribbon and a card. I thought it wise to send these tapes to your aunt Vera, disguised as a birthday present. That way, if anything happens to me, you’ll be sure to have the evidence you need to make things right. My cousin Rene still has the original, by the way. Hope I’m there to celebrate your birthday with you.

  Love, Halley.”’

  “Your uncle Royce and Richard both know that these tapes are from Halley,” Dane said. “There’s a good chance that they suspect what we do—that there’s some sort of evidence on one of these tapes.”

  “We have to find the evidence before…” Annie blew out a tense breath. “You know what? I am scared to death. Afraid the evidence isn’t here and even more afraid that it is.”

  Dane pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

  “Who are you calling?” she asked.

  “Milton Holman.” Dane spoke into the phone, “Yes, this is Dane Carmichael, will you please contact Chief Holman and ask him to get in touch with me as soon as possible at Ms. Harden’s home. It’s urgent.”

  Dane replaced the cell phone just as he drove into Annie’s driveway. He scanned the area for anything suspicious and when he found nothing, he quickly ushered Annie into the house.

  They spent the next hour and a half listening to music. Annie fidgeted in her chair. Dane paced the floor. Then he removed the third tape from the player and inserted the fourth. Marty Robbins’s distinctive voice drifted through the den, telling of his love for a Mexican girl. Annie groaned as she continued tapping her foot on the floor. Dane cursed under his breath. About halfway through the tape, in the middle of a song, the voice of two men interrupted the musical rendition. The two voices were instantly recognizable.

  “Richard, it was the only way. Martin was going to blow the whistle on you. If we hadn’t stopped him, the whole world would have known that you authorized the illegal PCB dumpings.”

  “I wish there had been another way, Jason. Did you have to kill him?”

  “No one will ever know that his death wasn’t suicide. I made sure of that and with the coroner in your hip pocket, there won’t be any questions asked.”

  “I don’t want Gloria or the children to ever know. Lorna is so delicate, so much like her mother was. And I don’t want Dickie involved. He’s just a kid.”

  Annie glanced up at Dane. She could tell that the mention of Lorna’s name had affected him. “Dickie wasn’t involved,” Annie said.

  Dane nodded. The tape continued, Richard Hughes’s and Jason Webber’s words a confession of murder.

  “Jason, I think Hughes Chemicals and Plastics should give Mrs. Edwards a nice fat check and perhaps a couple of one-way plane tickets for herself and her daughter to somewhere up north.”

  “Consider it done. What about Alice Renegar?”

  “How much do you think she knows?”

  “I doubt she knows that her boss took the rap for you, if that’s what you’re asking. She may have her suspicions, but she could never prove anything.”