Page 66 of Murder Will Out
Patricia answered primly, “Every good plan needs research and rehearsal. Causing a car accident by cutting the brake lines may work all the time on TV, but in real life, it’s much more difficult. Did you know cars are manufactured now with—”
“—dual brake lines, yes, I’m aware,” Willow broke in.
Patricia’s lips compressed in irritation.Bull’s-eye, Willow thought.Patricia MacFarlane Ramsey doesn’t like being interrupted while she’s monologuing.
Patricia continued, “Then you know the only way it could work is in an older car, and even that… needed testing.”
“So, you tested it first yourself,” Willow nodded, realizing. “Audra cut the lines, and you drove the car out of the Raven, knowing a successful dry run would send you hurtling down that awful hill without brakes.” She remembered something else. “That’s why you were on the phone; that’s why you were crying. You were talking to Audra, and she had to talk you into doing it.”
But Audra was gazing at Patricia, almost tenderly. “No, actually. I was trying to talk her out of it,” Audra said, “trying to persuade her to find a safer way. It was still risky, even going as slow as she could manage and knowing where to safely steer the car.” She walked over to the older woman and gently touched hercheek. “I was so afraid for you, afraid it would happen like last time—or worse, that you wouldn’t make it through.”
Patricia’s expression softened; the hand holding the gun did not waver, but with the other she reached up and ran a tender hand over Audra’s hair. “Last time,yougot me through,” she said softly. The pair leaned forward until their foreheads touched and their lips brushed together in a kiss.
Audra glanced at Willow and laughed. “Oh, sweetie, you look so confused, it’s precious,” she said. “The short version is that Patty had an accident in one of her husband’s stupid cars twelve years ago when she drove away from him in a rage. She hurt her back.”
“He gave me a watch,” Patricia said, her teeth clenched. “He asked me to forgive him and gave me a gold watch.”
Audra nodded. “I know, darling. He was the worst.” She turned back to Willow. “That’s when we met; she ran into some trouble getting the pain meds she needed, and I… helped her. Got her what she needed.”
“Got her what she needed?” Willow asked, still bewildered. “What were you, a drug dealer?”
“A pharmacy technician,” Audra said. “Okay,anddrug dealer. They go together surprisingly well.” She turned back to Patricia and kissed her again.
And there it was. The missing piece. Audra had been preparing for this for her entire life; God knew what kind of pharmacopeia she had managed to slide out of her employers’ inventories over the years.
Willow felt like a fool. They had been so focused on Hank and Naomi that it had never occurred to them that the people closest to each might have as much access and motivation to claim the Cameron fortune, nor that they would have an alliance of more than convenience. It had been Patricia and Audra all along.
Audra murmured into Patricia’s hair, “And now you’re free. We’re both free. Geralt is gone. Hank is gone. We don’t need them. It’s just us now.”
Patricia’s lips pursed again, and she pulled away. “Yes, just us. But Cameron House—”
“Hank’s claim is bull, you know,” Willow interrupted, keeping her voice even and conversational.Keep them distracted. Keep them off-balance. Piss her off a little, but try not to get shot.
Patricia snapped back, “Prove it. I’m a genealogist; I traced the family back—”
“No, you read a novel,” Willow said, allowing scorn into her voice for the first time. “Widow’s Walk, a novel about a field nurse who married a soldier and had his baby after he died. And you bought up every single copy of this obscure book you could find, relying on favorable odds that no one would ever make the connection. And fed the whole romantic tale to the world as Hank’s backstory.”
Willow paused, realization dawning. “That’s why we’re here.Youthink the story might be true, and you need to know whether another Cameron heir is going to come out of the woodwork.” Willow knew by the twitch of Patricia’s jaw that she had been right.
Willow turned to Audra. “But here’s what I don’t understand… why all the business with Hank and getting him into the succession? When all you need is—” She caught the quick expression of puzzlement on Patricia’s face, the narrowing of Audra’s eyes.
“Oh,” Willow said softly to Audra. “You haven’t told her, have you?”
“Told me what?” Patricia said, an edge of anxiety in her voice.
Willow waited.
Audra’s measuring gaze rested on Willow for a moment; she took a step back and smiled at Patricia. “All right then. This house should have gone to Geralt Talbot, and after his death, to his descendants. Regardless of how they got here. And that’s me. Geralt Talbot was my father.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Patricia stared at Audra, stunned.
Audra stared back, her cool exterior beginning to crack open, revealing something dark and frightening and full of a lifetime of deeply suppressed rage. “It’s true,” she said. “She may have lost the paternity suit, but my mother kept all the files, the paperwork, everything.”
“But our plan,” Patricia said in disbelief. “Everything we’ve been working for—the inheritance, the house…”
“Poor Patricia,” Audra said to her lover in a low, dangerous voice. “You assumedyouwould be mistress of the manor, the village matriarch, everyone kowtowing to you the way they have for years. They might even pretend to accept your little lesbian girlfriend, at least in your presence; behind your back, they’d still exclude her the way they do anyone not in their generations-old circle.” She shook her head. “No. No way, Patty. That’s not why I’m here. I’m through being invisible, done being on the outside. I’m here for what’s mine.”
