Go, Ivy, Go! by Lorena McCourtney Read Free Book Online Page B

body bag because of me.
    I tried to squirm out from under that weight of guilt and responsibility. Passing herself off as me had been the woman’s choice; it had nothing to do with anything I’d done. Maybe the Braxtons hadn’t killed her. Maybe someone had tried to burglarize the place and killed her in the process. Maybe the zombie uprising had started here.
    Yeah, all kinds of possibilities. But the biggest possibility by far was that the Braxtons, thinking I’d probably come back to Madison Street sometime, had kept an eye on the place. They didn’t do an intensive investigation when someone using my name started living in the house; they just killed her. Did she look like me? There may have been some resemblance. Tasha had thought we were the same person. But being generically older and gray haired was probably close enough to get her murdered.
    A follow-up jolt: if I’d been here that could have been me in the bathtub.
    None of which lessened the guilt I felt for the death of the woman who’d fatally entangled herself in my identity. It was dangerous to be Ivy Malone.
    “Did you tell them about the Braxtons?” Mac asked.
    “No.” I’d been so shocked by discovery of the body, Eric’s swoon, and my misguided determination to keep this out of the murder category, that I was still a little numb. “I guess I’d better do that.”
    “And then you can pick up and leave town before the Braxtons realize they made a mistake and come after the real you.”
    I managed to catch Officer DeLora’s eye when she came out of the motorhome. I motioned her over and told her I’d thought of something that might be helpful. She kept me on the far side of the tape, but we moved away from the curious crowd. I told her about the Braxtons, how I’d helped catch and convict one of the clan in a murder case, and how the others had vowed to make roadkill out of me. How they’d first tried to do it with a fire right here at the house and then a bomb under my old Thunderbird down in Arkansas, how I’d been running ever since. She surreptitiously flexed her left hand a couple of times while we were talking. I wondered if she’d recently injured it in line of duty.
    “So what you’re saying is—?”
    “I think the Braxtons killed this woman thinking she was me.”
    “That’s a very serious accusation.”
    “She was murdered, wasn’t she?”
    In spite of the conspicuous crime scene tape, Officer DeLora refused to confirm or deny that. Instead she asked, “And this person you say you helped convict was—?”
    “Beaumont Zollinger, usually known as Bo.”
    She pounced on that. “But you said Braxtons were out to get you.”
    “It’s a big family. The man who threatened me after the trial was Drake Braxton. Bo Zollinger is his half brother. I don’t know what the aunts and uncles and cousins and in-laws may be named. But they’re united in an effort to get me. A family project.”
    “You’re saying the whole family is in on some big conspiracy to kill you?” Officer DeLora was as skeptical as Koop is when I’m creeping up on him with a tuna tidbit in one hand and a worm pill hidden in the other.
    “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. My grand-niece down in Arkansas calls them a mini-Mafia. They seem to have tentacles everywhere. I think they got my original forwarding address because one of them worked for the postal service. Another time they managed to track me through credit card purchases, which probably means they have a spy in the banking system. Which is why I never use a credit card any more.”
    “Using information obtained as a postal or bank employee for personal purposes would be illegal and have serious consequences.” She sounded very righteous about that.
    “Bank robbery isn’t legal. Neither is hijacking cars, shoplifting Cheerios, or stealing an identity. All can have serious consequences. But it’s done .” And, like all crimes, no consequences if you aren’t caught
    Her frown and tap of pen