“That son of a bitch was sneaking out of Dina Fi-field’s bedroom when he accidentally saw Yoly and me in the Peacocks’ garden. He’s been holding it over my head ever since. It took some time, but I dealt with him.”
I took another step back, bumping into the privet.
“And now you’re interfering with my plans.”
Stapley lunged at me, grabbing my shoulders. I pulled free and cracked him on the side of the head with my loppers. I heard a squishing sound, and Richard’s silver hair turned pink as blood poured from the gash on his temple. I bayoneted him with the loppers and tore ass out of the unfamiliar maze, bouncing from side to side as I ran. He caught me by the sleeve as we exited near the stone wall, and he slammed me against it. He swung me around to the left, and it was just the windup I needed to land a powerful left hook to his kidneys.
He crumpled over. “Bitch,” he spat.
I ran a few yards, hurdling over the first row of boxwoods, then I felt my legs give out from under me as he knocked me off my feet. I rolled over to my left and instinctively covered my right cheek so the punch he landed wasn’t as bad as it might have been. I grabbed a handful of crushed oyster shells and threw them in Richard’s eyes. It bought me just enough time to scramble to my feet and run to the steps of the terrace with Richard close behind.
“Dammit!” he yelled. I heard his big frame crash to the ground. He’d stepped on the wedge of wedding cake and slid on the thick buttercream, smacking his knees on the bricks.
I made the mistake of turning to look, and he grabbed my ankles, bringing me down again, my chin hitting the pavers. I tasted blood and let out a scream but kept kicking with all my strength at his hands, his chest, finally connecting with his face. His head snapped back and hit the long nose on one of the stone dogs I’d repositioned not an hour before. I crawled away on all fours, reflexively kicking, even as I moved farther away from him.
I climbed to my feet and ran to the edge of the terrace, still shaking. My mouth was filled with blood, and tears were streaming down my face. I watched Richard’s motionless body for a few minutes. Blood was splattered everywhere-some his, some mine. I turned away, unable to look anymore. If I’d been wearing my heart- rate monitor, it would have been off the charts. I fumbled in my pants pocket for my cell and dialed 911, bloodying the phone.
Something moved behind me. I switched the phone to my right hand, twisted my torso, and landed a hard right-square in the face of Mike O’Malley.
CHAPTER 52
O’Malley and I sat opposite each other in the emergency room at the Springfield Hospital, holding ice packs to our faces. He massaged his jaw. “Not a bad punch.”
“You’re supposed to pivot that back foot and twist your hips,” I said, my cheek full of cotton wadding. “Ellen’s boxing class at the sports club.”
A doctor approached us. “Mr. Stapley is in stable condition. It looked worse, because of all the blood,” she said. “I told the other officers no questions, but he seems to be rambling on his own.” Mike leaped up and jogged down the hall to Richard’s room.
“How are you feeling?” She gently turned my face to the side to inspect my stitches. “You’ll have a respectable shiner but no scars on the chin. I’m a good seamstress. He got the worst of the deal. Good for you.”
The emergency room’s swinging doors flew open.
“Would it be heartless of me to ask you for an exclusive?” Jon Chappell called, rushing toward me.
“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” I said. “Go ahead, ask your questions. The public has a right to know.”
He got out his pad and tape recorder. “Shoot.”
“Richard Stapley killed Yoly Rivera.”
Jon let out a long, low whistle.
“He killed Guido, too.”
“He was the rich man with the accent that Yoly wrote to her mother about?” Jon asked.
“Yup.”
When O’Malley returned, he helped me flesh out the story. “One night in the summer of 1974, after an athletic evening at Dina Fifield’s, Guido was peeing in the hemlocks that separated the two properties and saw Stapley. Stapley claimed he was working on the stone wall, but Guido spotted Yoly’s shoulder bag hanging on the nose of one of the stone dogs. Then he saw her feet, poking out from behind the stone wall.”
“Richard told me Yoly was pregnant,” I said, “just like her mother suspected.”
Mike nodded. “He’s claiming he panicked and Yoly’s death was an accident.”
“Yoly accidentally fell and hit her head on a heavy rectangular object… six times?” Jon asked, citing the autopsy report. “If that’s true, why not just go to the cops?”
“A good citizen; just the thing we in law enforcement like to see. Guido wasn’t. He helped him hide the body.”
“Did Richard tell you how they met?” I asked, refolding my melting ice pack.
“Yoly was hired by the Fifields’ regular house -keeper,” Mike said, “to help at Win’s graduation party. Dina Fifield probably didn’t even know she was there, but Stapley certainly did.”
Chappell was writing furiously.
“Care to continue, Ms. Holliday?”
“Richard thought he’d get away with murdering a poor Mexican no one knew and no one would miss. Guido must have convinced him a marble fountain was a better hiding place than a stacked stone wall. They buried her, and Guido has been blackmailing Richard ever since-not about Margery’s baby, about Yoly’s murder.”
“I told you he was a bastard,” Jon said.
“Once Richard became a pillar of the community, Guido began to really squeeze him,” Mike said.
“Maybe that sewer deal was part of it, the one that tripled the value of Guido’s property,” Jon added.
“But that was two years ago,” I said, “and only pays off when you sell. What if Guido wanted his money now?”
Mike continued, “Richard was desperate. He’d run out of his own money, and although Margery’s was tantalizingly close, he couldn’t touch it. Guido promised Richard he’d leave the country after he got one last payoff, but Stapley was broke.”
“What about his art collection?” Jon asked. “I heard he had a Childe Hassam.”
“Not him, her,“ I said. “Margery says she doesn’t like the new frame, but I bet it’s the painting she doesn’t like, ten to one it’s a fake. I bet Richard sold the original on that trip to Hartford.” Things were coming together.
“So, Stapley tells Guido to be patient, he needs time to raise the money. Two or three weeks tops, then they can meet at their regular drop- off spot,” Mike adds. “The recycling center. Another of Guido’s little jokes.
“In the meantime, you and Neil accidentally tell Guido about the journal. Now he claims to have two things on Richard and gets even greedier. At the meeting they argue, Guido demanding more money and storming off until Richard promises to deliver. Now Richard knows that Guido will never leave him alone. There’ll always be one last payoff. He knows there’s only one way out.”
“Guido interfered with his plans,” I explained. “Richard parked the black Lincoln conspicuously in front of Halcyon so that I or anyone passing would assume he was there. Then he called the nursery, probably from a pay phone, to make sure the afternoon help had arrived and Guido would be alone in the trailer. That was Tanya’s hang- up, right?” I asked Mike.
“Keep going, you’re doing pretty good.”
“Richard bicycled to the nursery, stabbed Guido, then rode back to Halcyon, stashing his bike and poncho in the maze. Somewhere along the way, maybe in the deep gravel at the nursery, he bent one of the rims, but that didn’t matter. He’d be driving back in the car.”