Written into the Grave. Vivian Conroy

nose broken?” Vicky asked. She knew this was part of Cash’s job but she felt guilty for having called him without alerting him to the danger Trevor might pose.

      “I don’t think so. Still it hurts. Stupid kid.” Cash exhaled hard. “He’s only making it worse for himself. I could charge him for assaulting me. Regardless of what else he might have done.”

      He nodded at Gunhild. “Do you mind if Vicky shows me the gun in the shed? You had better stay in here and take it easy for the moment.”

      Gunhild didn’t even look up. “Do whatever you want,” she said in a flat tone.

      Outside the deputy had dragged Trevor to his feet. His hair stood up, and his T-shirt was almost backwards from the shuffle. He yelled, “Are you all crazy? I did nothing wrong. You’re arresting me for no reason. I did nothing wrong.”

      “We’ll talk about that at the station.” Cash gestured at the deputy. “Put him in the car and stay with him. Make sure he can’t pull any tricks.”

      “Like I can run away with these on,” Trevor scoffed, moving his hands behind his back so his cuffs clinked. “I’ll file charges against you for police brutality!”

      “Be my guest,” Cash said. “I can file against you for assaulting an officer of the law. Obstructing me while I was performing my duty. Do you have any idea what you can get for that? Just for that? Not mentioning the rest.”

      “What rest? You tried to attack me, without any reason, and I only defended myself. I’ll get a lawyer who can prove it,” Trevor yelled as he was dragged to the police car.

      Cash sighed. He wiped at the bloodstain on his shirt right over his badge. “This is going to be a long day. Now for that gun …”

      Vicky showed it to him in the shed where the stark bright electric light was still on.

      Cash studied the weapon without picking it up from the floor. “No way of saying whether it could have fired the lethal shots, but ballistics will be able to tell. I’d better call in a team for fingerprints and all. Maybe Trevor also hid other things here?”

      Vicky frowned. “It’s hardly hiding when a gun can fall out any time someone happens to tug too hard on that cotton organizer.” She nodded in the direction of the homemade contraption against the wall.

      Cash shrugged. “Trevor might not have thought about that or believed he was the only one to come in here.”

      “And those?” Vicky gestured at Gunhild’s sculptures on the bench. “Trevor knew she came here to work on those or at least store them. He can hardly have believed this was his little sanctuary.”

      “Maybe he reckoned she wouldn’t go near the tools. He was the gardener, right?”

      Vicky remained doubtful. “Yes, but most women cut roses and other flowers from their garden for the house. In fact, the thing fell and the gun came out when Gunhild offered to cut me a few of those pink roses that grow just outside the shed. She wanted to get shears for it.”

      Cash waved a hand. “Whatever. I’ll think about all that later. Now I need to get our hot-headed suspect to the station.”

      He reached up as if he wanted to touch his painful nose, then thought better of it and pulled his hand down again. “At least I now have something to hold him on. Until I’ve figured out the whole connection between the newspaper bit and the murder.”

      Vicky followed him out of the shed.

      At the police car Trevor was wailing out of the open window. “I did nothing wrong. I did …”

      Then Gunhild came from the house in a run, something in her hand. Her face was ashen, and her light hair caught on the wind. She looked like a fury in a painting Vicky had once seen, a creature of vengeance coming down on the world.

      At the police car she waved the thing in her hand at Trevor. It was the Glen Cove Gazette. “You … You killed him. You …” She gasped for breath. “You wrote down exactly how you’d do it and then you did it. You’re sick. Sick! You even dare show your face here after …”

      The paper fluttered into the grass as Gunhild staggered.

      Cash and the deputy each grabbed her from one side. Cash said, “Quickly back into the house. She’s in shock.”

      Trevor called, “I didn’t do anything. I don’t understand. Gunhild! I didn’t do anything. Please. Gunhild!”

      His calls were like those of a child for a mother he is separated from.

      The despair in his face seemed real.

      Vicky swallowed as she followed the men who carried the collapsed woman back into the house.

       Chapter Five

      After they had put Gunhild on the couch to come to her senses, Cash said to Vicky, “You have to stay here with her. She can’t be alone like this.”

      Vicky checked her watch. “I should have been at the store already. There might be customers. Marge isn’t there because she’s helping a friend with a move and …”

      “Call Ms. Tennings or somebody else,” Cash said brusquely. “This is more important.”

      Vicky eyed him. “Trevor just showed up here, acting like nothing was wrong. He was making tea for us and all.” She gestured at the teapot and cups on the sink. “Can he really have believed he could get away with it?”

      “Maybe he’s mentally unstable.” Cash shrugged. “Doesn’t have a conscience or a sense of guilt like other people do. I’ll have to bring someone in to assess him, I suppose. The risk he poses to others and possibly to himself. If we’re locking him up, I don’t want to take any chances of him hurting himself and escaping his trial.”

      Vicky said, “I think he’s still very confused as to why he’s being taken in. You didn’t exactly explain it to him.”

      Something about Trevor’s bewildered cries at Gunhild made her pity the young man. He might be a clever actor, or someone who was falling from one emotion into the other without having control over it himself, but he also might genuinely be ignorant of the developments.

      Cash gave her a dark look. “Are you criticizing my behavior?’

      “No, but … he seemed so confused and … Maybe he really has no idea what’s up?”

      Cash leaned back on his heels. “He wrote the piece for the paper. If anybody knows what’s up, it’s him.”

      “Yes, that certainly seems so, but …” Vicky’s thoughts raced. “Maybe Trevor discussed it beforehand with others. Maybe people knew he was sending it in. Maybe they took advantage of this opportunity. The doctor did use odd words for the dead man, that he was an unlikable type and even that he was guilty of something. If Goodridge had enemies …”

      “Enemies who just happened to know what exactly Trevor was writing up for his contribution to the serial in our local paper? Doesn’t seem likely to me.”

      “Well, at least you can explain to him what’s wrong.”

      “I might get more while he’s still confused. I want to know where he was before he came here and how the gun came to be in the shed.”

      Cash waved at her. “I have to get on it. You stay here with Mrs. Goodridge and take care of her until she is better or someone else is here to see to her needs. I’ll call you later, OK? Bye.”

      Vicky sighed as Cash stalked off. She pulled out her phone again and called Marge. Her friend answered at the third ring. “Vicky! I’m so relieved. I heard something was up near the beach and when you didn’t turn up here, I thought—”

      “You’re at the store?” Vicky interjected.

      “Yes.