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He hurried into the room, then stopped short at the sight of Eugene passed out on the floor, and an equally unconscious but also bloody Violet Clarke with her head halfway into the fireplace. “What the hell happened?”
“Our perps got greedy,” I said.
“Violet was the killer?” he asked, expression disbelieving.
“Accomplice,” I told him. “The actual murderer is Eugene here. Eugene Dershowitz,” I added. “Lucien’s little brother.”
“Damn.” Calvin shook his head, then sent a worried glance down at Eugene, who’d just let out a moan and began to stir. “And here I left my handcuffs at home. Do you have any zip ties, bungee cords…a spare extension cord?”
“I have some extension cords,” I said. “Let me go grab them.”
Luckily, I’d stored them in the catch-all drawer in the kitchen, so it didn’t take me any time at all to go grab the cords — left over from my move, when I wasn’t sure how many I would need — and hand them over to Calvin. With grim efficiency, he bound Eugene’s hands, then went over and extricated Violet from the fireplace as gently as he could. She groaned, her face a mass of bloody little cuts. They’d heal eventually…but I had a feeling they’d leave quite a few scars.
Karma could be an efficient but ruthless teacher.
Then Calvin was on the phone, calling for an ambulance, calling Globe P.D. so they could get a couple of deputies over to the apartment. I was glad of the way he’d taken over the situation, the way he knew exactly what to do. My hands were shaking so badly, I didn’t know whether I could have even dialed 9-1-1.
From inside the crystal ball, my grandmother winked at me.Good work, my girl,came her voice, sounding in only my ears.
Thank the Goddess that none of the cops who showed up could hear it.
I wandered down the riverbank to the hidden little beach where Lucien Dumond had died at his brother’s hands. I wanted to tell him myself what had happened, that justice had been served and there was no longer any need for him to linger on this plane.
Quite possibly, he already knew, but I still felt like I had a duty to give him some closure.
Or maybe the only closure I needed was for myself.
Eugene Dershowitz and Violet Clarke were both in jail, awaiting a court date. According to Calvin, both their families had descended on Chief Lewis, demanding that they be released on bail. But Lewis, hard-ass that he was, said the judge had determined they were both flight risks, and so they would remain locked up until they had their day in court.
And since they had an eyewitness who had heard both of them confess to the murders of Lucien Dumond and Athene Kappas, everyone figured it was going to be a very short trial. It also sounded as if Violet was angling for a reduced sentence in return for her cooperation — her lawyer was leaning heavily on her youth and the fact that she didn’t have any priors — but so far, it didn’t seem as if the local D.A. was inclined to go along with that plan.
“Lucien?” I called out, my voice questioning. I didn’t want to be too forceful; if he’d already moved on, then I didn’t want to do anything that would draw him back to this place.
But there he was, shimmering into existence a few feet away from where I stood. His ghost looked hearty enough, with color in his cheeks and even a faint smile on his lips.
“Selena,” he said.
“I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
He shook his head. “No, I was actually getting ready to move on, but I sensed you wanted to talk to me.”
“I guess I just wanted to know you would be okay.” When he was alive, I had definitely not been one of Lucien’s fan club, but I still hated the thought of him being trapped in this place forever. He’d definitely been a schmuck, but I still didn’t believe he deserved to be murdered by his brother, nor plotted against by a woman he’d thought cared for him.
Or maybe he had. The universe had dispensed its own justice in the end.
“I am okay.” He paused there, still smiling. “Or at least, I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. At any rate, I think I learned a few things from this life.”
I had to hope I would be that philosophical when the time came. Being dead did seem to give a person new perspective.
“Well, that’s good,” I replied. “And I think Eugene and Violet will be going to prison for a long time.”
Those words only elicited a small shrug. “I’m not sure that will allow them to learn the things they need to learn, but that’s their own path to take.”
I sort of hated to ask, but since this might very well be my only chance to get the facts straight from the horse’s mouth — so to speak — I said, “Where’s the knife? Calvin didn’t find it in Eugene’s possessions.”
“In there.” Lucien pointed toward the glinting waters of the San Ramon River. “He threw it downstream after he wiped it clean.” A pause, and then he added, “It was sort of strange to stand here and watch him do that, even as I realized I was dead.”
“Yes, I suppose it would be,” I said carefully. He didn’t look overly troubled by the recollection, but still. “And Violet’s medallion?”
