That’s when I heard another voice, one that was authoritative and in control. Charlotte Swanson pointed at Myrtis. “Call 911. Now,” she said, hurrying down the aisle toward Will.
Charlotte knelt beside Will, pushing away Valerie’s hand before she rolled him onto his back and hovered over him.
“Will, listen to me. It’s Charlotte. The ambulance is on its way.” Charlotte studied him and then looked at the Birkin bag at my feet. Her expression told me she hadn’t been expecting to see it again so soon. She turned to Valerie. “There’s aspirin in the pocket inside that bag. Give it to me.”
Valerie, eyes wide in shock, turned to do the woman’s bidding, motioning for me to hand her the bag. Though this hadn’t been part of the plan, I obliged, passing it along.
Charlotte took the Birkin from Valerie and paused for a moment as if she realized something was missing. She glanced at me for a brief second and shook her head before reaching inside and pulling out a bottle of aspirin, opening the bottle, and shoving a pill into Will’s mouth.
Less than a minute later, Will’s eyes were open as he stared up at the two women, both watching him with mirrored longing in their eyes.
“What happened?” he asked, looking to Valerie and gripping his chest as if he feared the pain might return.
“I think you had a heart attack,” Valerie said, holding Ollie close even as he began to fuss. “This… this woman… she gave you aspirin, but the ambulance is on its way.”
Charlotte’s jaw tightened at the mention of herself as “this woman” and then her expression morphed from concern to suspicion, her eyes studying Will’s uncreased brow, his sudden lack of pain, the way his hand caressed his wife’s palm.
Charlotte looked from Will to the bag she was holding, to Michael and Patty Swanson. And, finally, to me. “You did this, didn’t you?”
I stared straight back at her. “Guilty as charged.”
THIRTY-THREE
Once we had the weapon that had likely killed Todd Anderson—and only needed the fingerprints to prove it—I’d suggested that we involve Will and Valerie Hurt.
We told Michael and Patty Swanson the most basic details, starting with the fact that their art storage facility at their Texas ranch was about to be raided, and they were happy to oblige as part of a guaranteed plea deal that would keep them from the most severe punishment.
Bella admitted to planting the Birkin bag where we would find the gun. She’d gotten cold feet after Todd was killed and she’d had a change of heart. Basically, she wanted Charlotte to be caught.
Valerie would be free and clear because she didn’t actually know anything other than the fact that her husband had asked her to store something important at the bank as part of a business opportunity. Her only crime was that she hadn’t looked more closely at what her husband had been doing and, thankfully for Ollie, that would not put her behind bars.
The medics never arrived because Charlie had called them off as soon as Myrtis had called them in, but Charlotte was on her feet, obviously unwilling to go down without a fight.
As for the mysterious buyer of the Perry painting, we wouldnever know their identity because the exchange that Todd had underhandedly orchestrated would no longer happen. Still, it made me wonder where he or she might’ve been as this bizarre wedding ceremony unfolded.
“If you’ll come with us,” Charlie called, as he started down the aisle, “we need to take you down to the station to ask you a few questions and get some fingerprints.”
“Take your hands off of me,” Charlotte said, attempting to shake off his hands.
“Ma’am, this will be much easier if you go quietly,” Charlie responded in his smoothest sheriff voice.
“You have nothing to connect me to—” Charlotte started, but I cut her off.
“You’ve been giving orders to orchestrate an art heist right under our noses. You’ve been carrying around a bag of weapons, and I’m guessing that the gun that killed a man has your fingerprints on it,” I said plainly. “Not to mention the fact that the dead man had a note in his pocket blaming you if anything went wrong this weekend.”
Charlotte’s brows dipped and she seemed on the verge of protesting once more before she caught the eyes of her family, their expressions clearly willing to throw her under the bus. Charlotte relented, each word crisp. “I want my lawyer.”
“That can be arranged, but you’re still coming with us,” Charlie said.
Jill handed Charlie some handcuffs, and he pulled Charlotte’s hands behind her back. Even so, she wasn’t done with this crowd.
First, she looked to Will, whose face was falling into a somber expression.
Will sat up and stood to his feet, glancing at Charlotte, catching her fiery look. She was not only the other woman; she was his boss, and the trepidation in his features showed he was well aware of these facts.
“How do you even know her?” Valerie asked, her head darting back and forth between her husband and this other woman.
Will hung his head, but answered, “Through Todd. He reached out on Instagram months ago to congratulate me on the baby, and we started messaging. When I lost my job and you quit working, he told me that he had a side gig for me.” Will finally looked up, studying his wife’s face. What he saw must’ve encouraged him to continue. “That’s when he introduced me to Charlotte. I was just trying to provide for our family, especially after Ollie had to stay in the hospital. Todd said that eventually I could work with the Swanson family and make enough money that you would never need to lift a finger again. I swear on Ollie’s life that I had nothing to do with killing Todd. He was my friend. I would never?—”
