Death's Half Acre

Satisfied with her looks, she strolled over to the closet and pulled out a favorite spring dress. The white top was a respectable short-sleeved shirt with tiny pearl buttons and a boat collar cut low enough that when she leaned forward to share a confidential aside with one of her fellow board members, he could get a nice glimpse of cleavage. The skirt was green with white polka dots and cut on the bias so that it made a flirty flare at the hemline, a hemline so short that it added an illusion of length to her legs.

The dress made her feel flirty herself and would probably tempt old Harvey Underwood into patting her knees at the board meeting tonight.

As long as his hand stops at my knees and doesn’t try to slide on up under my skirt, she thought. If it got her his vote against the planning board’s recommendations, what did she care?

Let Jamie Jacobson fume and make sarcastic highfalutin remarks that half the time nobody could understand. She’d teach that long-legged bitch a few lessons about trying to take on Candace Bradshaw.

She carried the dress on into her bedroom and laid it on the bed. As she turned to a dresser for lingerie, a voice said, “Very nice, Candy.”

“Don’t call me Candy,” she snapped as she reached for a robe to cover her nakedness. “And what the hell are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. Although I didn’t expect to see quite this much of you.”

“How did you get in?”

“You must have left the door unlocked.”

Candace gave an unladylike snort of derision. “Not hardly likely. What do you want?”

“Nothing that’s not well within your abilities.”

Candace flushed, knowing this was a dig at her lack of education. Okay, so she never went to college. Big damn deal. Most of the county commissioners had degrees from State or Carolina and who was their chair? And who ran Colleton County’s largest managerial service?

“What’s that?” she asked as the other handed her a sheet of paper.

“What do you care? It’s a little late to go reading what you’re told to sign. Just copy it on your pretty notepaper, okay?”

Candace Bradshaw’s eyes widened as she read the few short sentences typed on the paper. “ ‘I take full responsibility for my greediness’? ‘I apologize to everybody in the county who trusted me’? You’re crazy if you think I’ll write anything like this. Get the hell out of my house and stay out or I’ll—”

Her voice broke off at the sudden appearance of a small pistol. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“No?” A pull of the trigger, a soft pfft, and a bullet buried itself in the pile rug next to her bare feet.

Candace’s eyes widened in fear. “My God! You are crazy.”

“Not crazy enough to go to jail because you messed up.”

“Me? You’re the one who said nobody would ever find out.”

“And they wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been so greedy that they’ve started noticing.”

Appalled, Candace listened as the facts were laid out—the questions that were starting to be asked, the people who were doing the asking.

Her real desk and computer were in the third bedroom, which she had furnished as a home office, but a jerk of the pistol directed her over to the dainty desk where she wrote personal notes and cards.

It took only a moment or two to copy the typescript she had been handed.

To whom it may concern:

I have used my position to enrich myself and some of my friends. I acted alone though and I take full responsibility for my greediness. I am sincerely ashamed and I apologize to everyone in Colleton County who trusted me with their well-being.

When she finished, she signed it CANDACE BRADSHAW with an angry flourish. “There! Satisfied?”

“Not quite. Not till it’s safely locked away.”

“I’ll tell them you made me write it,” she spat out.

“Won’t matter. It’ll be your word against mine, Candy.”

“Don’t call me Candy. And put down my robe!”

“Relax, Candace. I could ask you to give me your word that you wouldn’t call Sheriff Poole and have me arrested before I can put your copy in a safe place and destroy the original, but we both know how much your word’s worth. I think I’d rather tie you up for a while, give you time to think things over and realize that anything you say about me will only make people believe it was all your doing.”

With that pistol aimed at her chest, Candace stood up as instructed and draped the second robe over her shoulders backward so that her arms were pinned to her sides and held almost immobile when the sash and the empty sleeves were tied in back.

All the while, her mind was racing furiously, weighing her options. The sash wasn’t too tight and there was a little slack inside the second robe. It wouldn’t be too hard to wriggle free. And then? If things really were coming unraveled, there had to be a way out of this mess. She’d call Cam. He’d help her find a way to throw all the blame on—

Abruptly, something looped her throat. There was a sudden tightening, a constriction that left her unable to breathe. Frantically, she struggled to jerk away, but the pressure increased inexorably.

No way to use her arms or hands to yank it away from her neck. In fear and rage, she sank to her knees and