“Henry was cruel and dictatorial when he was younger, but his personality changed after his near-fatal stroke. You were afraid that he would go through with his plan to make me an heir or that I would try to assert a claim to his estate once I learned that I was Casey’s daughter. Or maybe the hatred you bore my father for making love to your sister was rekindled. Whatever the reason, you decided to kill me and everyone who knew I was Henry’s granddaughter. You tried to kill me at my house and in the Academy dorm after Maxfield escaped. You knew everyone would blame him.”
“This is insane, Ashley. Why are you doing this?”
“Because you’re a cold-blooded murderer.”
“You’re forgetting Joshua Maxfield’s book. If I’m the man who broke into your house, how did he know that the killer ate some food in your kitchen after raping Tanya Jones?”
“That’s an easy question to answer. Sleeping Beauty is your first published work but you’ve been writing for a while. You were proud of the murders you’d been committing. You wanted to brag about them but that would have sent you to death row, so you did the next best thing-you wrote a novel about your crimes and you sent it to Joshua Maxfield for editorial help. You didn’t put your name on the manuscript for obvious reasons. There was a post office box as a return address. What you didn’t know was that Maxfield had writer’s block and was desperate for a story idea. He plagiarized your novel and planned to sell a rewritten version as his own.”
“Ashley, I know you’ve been through a lot. I hoped that Maxfield’s conviction would bring closure to your tragedy. But this just shows that you still need professional help to work through your problems.”
“You mean, you think I’m nuts?” Ashley asked.
Miles shook his head. He looked sad. “I know exactly what you’re going through. Remember, I almost lost Casey. Experiencing that type of loss does funny things to a person.”
“That’s true, Miles, but does it make your fingerprints appear in odd places, like the first draft of Joshua Maxfield’s book?” Miles froze. “The draft that Maxfield read to his writing seminar was a heavily rewritten version of a previous draft. Until recently, everyone thought that he wrote the draft, but once I figured out that you might have written it Delilah Wallace had the crime lab test each page for fingerprints.” Ashley gestured toward the audience. “Would you like to explain to these people how your prints could have ended up on several pages of the manuscript?”
All eyes turned toward Miles, but Miles just stared at Ashley.
“The FBI got a search warrant for your house after they found the prints,” she continued. “They found the critique Joshua wrote in the desk in your study. He was very discouraging. He wanted you to give up on the book so he could steal the idea without worrying that you would try to publish.”
Miles turned quickly and took a step toward the backroom of the store but two men wearing blue windbreakers with “FBI” stenciled on the back were standing in the hall blocking his way.
“Freeze, Mr. Van Meter,” Claire Rolvag said. The escort was standing inches from her author. “I’m an FBI agent and you are under arrest.”
As Claire spoke, several members of the audience who had asked questions following the reading moved toward the front of the room and surrounded Maxfield. He gaped at them, then glared at Ashley.
“This is a setup. You set me up,” Miles said incredulously as he was handcuffed.
Ashley walked up to Van Meter and glared at him. “Yes I did, you bastard.”
Miles stared back. There was nothing behind his eyes. “I’m completely innocent, Ashley,” he said in a flat, emotionless voice that was more threatening than a scream. “When I’m cleared, you and I will have to have a long, private talk about your error.”
“You think you can scare me, don’t you?”
Miles made the mistake of smirking. Ashley took a step back and drove her foot into his crotch. Miles doubled over and retched and Ashley smashed her hardcover copy of Sleeping Beauty into his jaw. Claire pulled her away.
The audience gasped, then began talking excitedly.
“Not smart,” Claire told Ashley as Miles was hustled toward the back of the store.
“Maybe not,” Ashley answered, “but I’d do it again if I had the chance.”
Jill Lane ’s mouth was open and her hand was on her heart.
“Oh, my God,” she said finally. “I don’t believe this.”
“Sorry, but we couldn’t tell you,” Claire said. “We needed Miles to believe that this was just another speaking engagement so we could trap him into admitting that he hadn’t learned about the ‘See you later’ statement from Ashley. Except for Barbara Bridger, no one knew what was going on.”
“Don’t apologize,” Jill said. “This is the most excitement we’ve had around here since our grand opening. And our store will be on national television. We’re going to be famous.”
Part Five.Sibling Rivalry
Chapter Thirty-Eight
An FBI agent drove Ashley from Murder for Fun to Sea-Tac airport, and an FBI jet flew her home. Delilah Wallace and Larry Birch had a car waiting at Portland International. When they were on the road, Delilah told Ashley that Randy Coleman had been picked up for questioning in connection with the attack at Sunny Rest. Ashley had trouble concentrating on the details of the arrest and only heard half of what the prosecutor said. She felt drained after her confrontation with Miles Van Meter, emotionally spent and physically exhausted. Ashley wished that she could curl up next to Jerry in their big comfortable bed and sleep the night away, but there was still one thing she had to do first.
A little before midnight, Larry Birch parked his unmarked car in front of the Van Meter mansion. Lights came on after the second ring. Moments later, a sleepy-eyed maid dressed in a nightgown and bathrobe opened the front door. Birch flashed his badge. The maid looked confused.
“We need to speak to Ms. Van Meter,” Birch said.
“She’s sleeping.”
“Who is it, Angela?” Casey called from the top of the stairs. She was wearing a blue silk robe over her nightgown. Delilah pushed past the maid and stood next to one of the suits of armor at the bottom of the stairs.
“It’s me, Delilah Wallace. Ashley is here, too.”
“What’s going on?” Casey asked. “It’s midnight.”
“I know, and I’m sorry to bother you, but something terrible has happened to Miles and we wanted to tell you in person. Is there someplace we can sit down and talk?”
“Please tell me what happened,” Casey said when they were seated in the library, where Delilah had met with Miles and Henry Van Meter many years earlier. Casey had taken the sofa, and Ashley sat beside her. Delilah and Larry Birch were opposite the couch in their own deep armchairs.
“Let me, Delilah,” Ashley said. “I should be the one to tell her. I’m her daughter. Miles is my uncle.”
“Tell me what?” Casey said, as she looked back and forth between Ashley and Delilah. Ashley turned sideways so she was facing Casey. They were inches apart.
“Miles has been arrested,” Ashley said. “Joshua Maxfield didn’t kill my father or Tanya Jones. It was Miles.”
Casey shook her head in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I know this will be hard for you to believe,” Delilah said, “but your brother is a serial killer.”
Casey laughed. “I don’t know who told you that but…it’s insane. Miles isn’t a killer.”
“His vanity tripped him up,” Ashley said. “Remember the book that Joshua Maxfield wrote?”
Casey nodded.
“There was a draft in Maxfield’s cabin. It turns out that it was Miles who wrote it, not Joshua. If he could get it published, he could brag about his crimes without getting arrested, so he sent it to Maxfield for editing. But Joshua had writer’s block and he was desperate for a story idea. He rewrote Miles’s book. He plagiarized the draft.”