Murder in Monterey (Miranda Marquette Mysteries Book 8)

Book summary

When Miranda Marquette’s estranged friend Heather shows up unexpectedly, life takes a dark turn. A series of murders shocks their eccentric circle, and suspicions mount against Heather and Margo, Miranda’s unconventional ally. With a defense attorney stepping in, tensions rise as forgiveness, redemption, and belonging hang in the balance.

Excerpt from Murder in Monterey (Miranda Marquette Mysteries Book 8)

Chapter 1

Happy to be home from Sedona and even happier to have Jason all to myself, I rinsed the wine glasses and was about to turn off the kitchen light when someone knocked on the front door. “I’ll be right there, Cowboy,” I called to him in the bedroom as I padded in my bare feet to see who was visiting this late at night. I was sure it could only be Kara, my brother’s fiancé, who’d just moved nearby. As if we hadn’t seen enough of one another this past week.

I opened the door to see a downtrodden blonde female wearing denim shorts, a soiled white T-shirt, and sandals. The overhead porch light made a halo of the wisps of hair that had escaped being pulled away from her face. Into a ponytail, I assumed. Gaunt almost to the point of emaciation, she offered a weak smile and said, “Hello, Miranda.”

Did I know her? I pulled the door open further and studied the face. The recognition hit me like a cannon ball to the stomach. “Heather? Heather McIntosh?”

“Can I come in?” She held out a hand.

My shock at seeing her after so many years turned to anger. “You want to come into my house? My house? After all you did to me? How dare you!”

Without further thought, I slammed the door on her. Her treachery had been unforgivable.

Jason rushed into the hall. “What’s going on? Who was that?”

“No one you want to know. Let’s go to bed.” I tried to pass him, but he blocked my way.

“Whoever it is, is still out there.”

Heather tapped on the door. “Please,” her voice pleaded through the closed door.

“Who is she? What does she want?”

I gritted my teeth and took a deep angry breath. “Heather,” I growled.

“Heather? The one who …?”

“Yes. The one who.”

“What’s she want?” He eyed the door as if Heather might barge in.

“I don’t know.”

“Shouldn’t you at least find out?”

I folded my arms. “Why?”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“The only thing I’m curious about is how she got here. I didn’t hear a car or anything.”

“Why don’t we open the door and at least find out why she’s here?”

“You don’t understand what she did to me. I thought she was a good friend. I invited her to share my house.”

“I know she betrayed you and even went so far as to try to kill you.”

“And killed another friend instead.”

Jason put an arm around my shoulder, turned me toward the door, and reached for the knob. Before he turned it, he said, “You didn’t see any weapons, did you?”

Somehow, that made me chuckle. “No. She looks terrible. Weak as a kitten.”

He pulled the door open.

Heather had her arms wrapped around her shoulders against the chilly night air. She did look pathetic. “Come in,” I said begrudgingly.

Her relief was palpable. She stepped into the hall, but once Jason closed the door, she leaned back against it for support. She definitely looked in need of medical attention.

“Take her into the living room. I’ll get her a glass of water,” Jason said.

I had no more interest in comforting her than helping a rabid dog, except maybe to put it out of its misery. Reluctantly, I pointed to the entrance to the living room.

She took two staggering steps forward before falling into Jason’s arms. He gave me a “forgive me” look, picked her up, carried her through, and placed her on the sofa.

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asked her.

“I think this morning. I had a donut.”

Oh, please. This poor waif act had gone on long enough. “What do you want, Heather?” I pretty much barked at her.

Jason had the good sense to retreat. “I’ll just go fix up some leftovers and get her a glass of milk, okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. I sat in an armchair opposite her. “I asked you a question.”

“Miranda, I know I was horrible to you, and what I did that got Annika killed is totally unforgivable—”

“You meant to kill me,” I reminded her, then I practically hissed at her, “And you got away with it!”

“I didn’t. Not really.” She choked on a sob. “I know I have no right to come back into your life. I’m only here to make amends.”

“Make amends? You think you can make amends? I’ll forgive you, and you can go live happily ever after. Not gonna happen, Sweetheart.” The memories of our life together in Malibu flooded back, overwhelming me. I had considered her a best friend for a long time before I learned of her thievery and betrayal. It had hurt and still did.

“Listen, please. I’m in a twelve-step program. I’m trying to rebuild my life.”

“I didn’t know they had twelve-step programs for thieves and murderers.”

“Drugs, Miranda. I couldn’t live with myself after what I’d done. I lost everything. I found myself in and out of jail for doing coke … and other stuff. I’m the only one who can help myself, and this is part of the program. It doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. Just listen.”

Jason came in with a tray containing leftover lasagna, a small salad, and a glass of milk. He passed me a glass of red wine and had one for himself. He set everything on the coffee table and then helped her to sit up before taking a seat in the other armchair. “So, what’s going on?”

I leaned back and folded my arms. My legs were already crossed at the ankles. “She wants to make amends, but I don’t have to forgive her. As if.”

Heather took a tentative bite of her food, then, satisfied, dug in. Jason and I waited for her to finish before questioning her again.

“How did you get here?” I asked. “I never heard a car pull up. Don’t tell me you rode a bicycle all the way from town?”

“I hitchhiked from Venice Beach and walked the last half mile in.”

“Smart.” I wasn’t about to give her an inch.

“I’m living in a halfway house there. I can’t – I don’t want to go back there. I just came here to tell you some things and to complete my ninth step. Before I die, I need you to know that I did love you.”

“Right before you stole nearly half a million dollars from me and killed Annika.” Though I’d been seeing a therapist for years and even more intensely following the death of my friend and the loss of my business. Heather came into the equation, and I worked with Rachel on the idea of forgiveness, but now, seeing her in my own house, I wasn’t so sure I’d ever accomplish it.

Jason put down his empty wine glass and stood to collect the tray from Heather. “It’s getting late. Where were you planning to stay tonight?” he asked her.

She looked up with those sad eyes. “I wasn’t.”

He turned to me with raised eyebrows. I shook my head. He tilted his then left the room with a tray. “Did you think I would take you in?”

“No, no, I just wanted you to know – to know that before I die.”

“Why do you keep saying before you die? You have some disease or something?”

“Just myself. My mind. I can’t keep living, knowing how much I destroyed when I thought taking that money would change my life. I never considered what it might do to you. You had a way of making money as if you were printing it in the next room.”

“You know the government was after me for fraudulent claims. The fact that I had no idea I was breaking any laws didn’t seem to matter. They took the rest of everything I owned.”

“I read about it in the papers.” The meal seemed to have brightened her a bit, but she still resembled a wet stray puppy.

Jason reappeared with a sheet, pillow, and blanket. He looked at me apologetically. “We can’t send her away this time of night. We can drive into work tomorrow and drop her off someplace.”

Heather watched this exchange with a hopeful sparkle in her eyes. I almost saw a flash of the old Heather, the one I used to like. “You can fix up the sofa for her. I’m going to bed.”

“Would it be alright if I, um, took a shower?”

“You want a clean pair of pajamas too?” I snarled.

“If you have a spare, that would be really nice.”

I sent Jason a killing look and stomped off to the bedroom to find the oldest, faded pj’s in the bottom of a drawer and tossed them to Jason, who took them out to her. I heard him telling her where the towels and things were. He even gave her a damned toothbrush from the cupboard.

I couldn’t help but think half aloud, “Of all people to show up in my life, just when things were going so well.”