by Fiona Grace
She started to type in a message to Mason. “Ah, my uh—boyfriend is just wondering where I am. He made me dinner,” she said, her fingers moving feverishly. Help me. “Just typing in a message for—”
Before she could press the send button, he swept across the desk and grabbed the phone from her. The sound of the struggle was so loud, the animals in the other room began to go crazy, barking and yipping.
She swiped for it, panic rising up inside her. “Hey. What are you—”
He checked the display. His voice was unusually low and not salesman-like in the least. “Help you?” He let out a bitter laugh and slipped the phone into his own pocket. “No one can help you.”
At that moment, she had the feeling he was right. Never had she felt so alone.
“What—what do you mean? What are you doing? Give me my phone back,” she said, staring at the letter opener. It was at the other side of her desk, closer to him. He could easily just pick it up and then it would be all over.
He smiled. “I don’t think so.” He laughed again. “So, what? Why’d you bring me here? You knew Cascarelli? Were you trying to trap me?”
“What did you do?” she asked, voice shaking, standing up and moving behind her office chair just to get away from him, in the chance he might lunge at her.
“What do you think? I got into this business because I don’t let anyone stop me. That’s why I’m successful. And I’m not going to let some second-rate, minimum-wage inspector put the brakes on my plans for expansion. He wanted to, yes. He thought he had my number. But he didn’t. And neither do you.”
Audrey whispered, “You killed him.”
“Of course. With the plans I have, people like him are nothing. Dust. They mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things.” He reached into the cup on her desk and ever so slowly pulled out the letter opener. Gleaming in the fluorescent light overhead, it looked sharper than Audrey remembered. She froze in fear as she stared at it, her eyes widening. “I could tell, you know, that you were going to be as big a problem as he was. That of everyone, you’d hold out and foul things up. So when I caught up with him, right here at the clinic, and found the door open? It was serendipity. I’d heard the clinic had failed inspection, which was no surprise. I thought I could kill him, blame it on you. Two birds, one stone. Easy as pie.
“But then the police didn’t arrest you. Stupid flatfoots in this town, don’t know how to conduct a proper investigation. So when you called, I figured this was my chance at making everything right.”
He smiled.
“You don’t have to …”
“Oh, yes I do. You think you’re going to stop me? Have me fall on my knees and beg for forgiveness? No. I’ve made my plans. And with you out of the way, the sky’s the limit, baby.”
She backed up against the wall, staring at the gleaming letter opener, her heart in her throat. “You’re going to stab me?”
“Actually, no,” he said, reaching into his briefcase. From it, he pulled a small amber vial and a syringe. “This, here, I’m sure you’re familiar with. I had to go through one of your competitors to get it, but I know you will understand.”
“What is it?” she asked, barely able to speak the words. It didn’t matter. She had a very good idea of what it was.
“It’s pentobarbital, which, from what I hear, is the main drug used in animal euthanasia. I’m sure you’ve used it before?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
Yes. Of course, any veterinarian had, for the unpleasant act of putting an animal to sleep. Enough of it would stop the heart of a creature in mere minutes. She hugged herself and moved into the corner, flattening herself there.
He smiled. “I hear it’s also used in human euthanasia, too. So correct me if I’m wrong, but it would be an effective and readily available tool, in case a veterinarian wanted to end it all? I mean, I heard of your little brush-up with the mayor. In fact, everyone in Sicily has. You looked a bit … shall we say, unhinged? Crazy? Apt to go to extremes?”
She couldn’t deny that. She’d seen the video, too, and that wild look in her eye. “Yes, but no one would believe—”
“I think they will. Imagine the headlines. Doctor Commits Suicide Over Implicating Wrong Man in Murder She Committed. It happens. You just got tired of piling up lie after lie in your quest to cover the truth—that you were the one who murdered Vito Cascarelli. You couldn’t take the guilt, and you just snapped. Luckily, you had the drugs on hand.”
“You’re not going to get away with this,” she said, knowing it was a cliché. And totally wrong. Because, right now, she didn’t see any way he wouldn’t get away with this. He was by the door. Her back was against the wall. There was nowhere to go. All he had to do was prick her with that needle, she’d go down in infamy as a murderer, and no one would question it.
Would they? Maybe Mason would. G, possibly. But without evidence, they’d let it go. They didn’t have her tenacity, her inability to back down when it came to uncovering the truth.
Oh, why oh why are you so tenacious, Audrey? Why can’t you ever let anything go?
He simply laughed, as if he knew she was done for. He knew he had her. He knew her situation was hopeless. If he’d so easily stab Vito Cascarelli to death, there was nothing to prevent him from pricking her with that needle to cover it up. She stared at it, wide-eyed, as he opened the cap of the vial, depressed the plunger, stuck it in the vial, and gradually let the syringe fill with the barbiturate.
The best I can do is hope to stall him, she thought. “All right. I guess you have me,” she said, trying to think fast. “So … when I’m dead, are you going to turn this place into a PetSense?”
He looked around, and as he did, she scanned the area, too, trying to find something to use as a weapon. The only thing nearby was the sweater she’d draped over the back of her chair, to ward off the chill that seemed to gather in her office from the air conditioning … and the chair itself. Not exactly helpful. “Probably. It’s a hole, really. But with enough money and luck, it could be pretty decent. Although, I guess we’ll have to get another veterinarian in, because you won’t be here to see it.”
Face twisted in a wolfish sneer, he started to walk toward her, sidestepping around her desk, the syringe poised and ready to insert.
When he got a few steps from her, she grabbed the chair and shoved it with all her might.
It was exactly as much help in deterring him as she’d thought. He simply grabbed ahold of it and wheeled it out of the way. She reached forward for it, trying to keep it between them as a barrier, but he shoved it behind him, so that the only thing left in her hands was her cardigan. Balling it up, she tossed it at him and attempted to climb over the desk, to freedom.
Another pathetic attempt. He easily swatted it away and lunged before she could get too far.
She tried to scream as he grabbed ahold of her arm, but all that came out was a frightened squeak as he locked his hand around her wrist. As he pinned her to the desk, she reached for something, anything. Struggling as he tried to find a place to insert the needle, she grabbed the pen cup, the tissue box on the top of her desk, and hurled them at him. They bounced off him as he continued, undaunted. “Stop squirming,” he growled, trying to hold her arm still.
His body had her entire lower half wedged against the desk. She’d just freed her leg, ready to kick him in the crotch, when she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the hallway outside.
A voice said, “You know, Boston, sometimes I think you live to make my life a living—”
At that moment, Mason appeared in the doorway.
The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion. Eton Scarletto, his concentration broken, pushed the syringe closer. Audrey latched a hand around his wrist, trying to shove him back. The needle moved ever closer to the crook of her arm.
And her foot jammed into his crotch. He let out a guttural “oof” and went reeling backward, reaching for his privates.
She saw Mason’s face
morph from confusion, to anger, to absolute shock before he finally comprehended the scene developing in front of him and bridged the distance. “What the—? Get off her!”
Face red with rage, Eton Scarletto spun away from Audrey, came around the desk, and lunged at him, shoving him back against the wall and pinning him there.
“Mason!” she shouted. “Stay away from the syringe!”
It was almost too late. The syringe came within inches of Mason’s neck before he grabbed Eton’s wrist. The two engaged in a power struggle, the syringe hovering between them, poised just inches away from Mason’s carotid artery.
Grabbing the first thing she could find, her tissue box, Audrey scuttled over the desk and whacked Eton over the head with it.
It stunned him just enough to allow Mason to push him away.
The commotion was enough to get the animals in the back room riled. Choruses of howls and excited barks filled the air.
Eton, still stunned, took a half-hearted step forward to make another attack, then paused to take the two of them in. In a split second, he dropped the syringe and took off running, headed for the back room.
In a heartbeat, Mason pushed off the wall and tore after him. At his heels were Polpetto and Nick.
Audrey went into the hallway in time to see Mason disappearing out the back door, as well as nearly a dozen of her strays. How had they gotten loose?
She followed along, struggling to follow the last dog. They were far too fast for her. She came to the end of the drive and by the time she got there, they’d disappeared out of sight. She had to follow the sound of their excited yips and barks. Out of breath, she stopped a couple times due to the stitch in her side, but after a few moments, when she turned a corner, she found all the dogs on Scarletto’s heels. She was just in time to witness them all jumping on his back as a team, pinning the man to the ground.
Mason dragged him up by the collar of his jacket. “What do you think you were doing?” he demanded.
As Audrey approached, she panted, “He’s the one. He killed the inspector. And he was going to try to kill me with the syringe of pentobarbital and make it look like a suicide.”
“Pento-what?” Mason growled, shoving him up against the brick side of a building.
“Forget it,” she said, the adrenaline inside her slowly dissipating, her heartbeat gradually returning to its normal pace. She didn’t have her phone, so she reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled his out. “I’m calling the police.”
“Yeah. You hear that?” Mason hadn’t loosened his grip on the man at all. He jiggled him around for good measure, exuding testosterone. “You’re going to prison, scumbag. For a long time.”
“Thanks, Mason,” she said with a relieved sigh as the phone rang in her ear. “But this isn’t Dragnet.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The police arrived a few moments later. DiNardo hopped out of his squad car as Mason and Audrey took turns explaining what had happened.
As two officers went to put the culprit in cuffs, DiNardo said, “So the mayor didn’t do it?” looking right at her.
She shrugged and said in a small voice, “Well, I may have been wrong about that …”
DiNardo already had his phone at his ear, calling the precinct.
After the excitement simmered down, Audrey called Brina, who answered on the first ring. “Well?”
“Sorry. I’ve been busy. Catching murderers and stuff.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not. I found a guy murdered in my reception area yesterday. And I’ve been running around since then. But it’s all cleared up now.” I think.
“Really? Who did it?”
“A developer. I think he was getting in the way of his development plans.”
“Wow. That’s wild. I can’t believe it! And here I thought nothing you could tell me would be more exciting than Abs. That almost qualifies.”
Audrey laughed. “Oh, well, about Abs. I’ve been thinking, and—”
She stopped when she looked up and saw him, on the other side of the curb, staring at her. If it hadn’t been for him, there was no doubt in her mind that she would be dead. And this was by no means the first time that he’d stuck his neck out for her, saved her. Her heart fluttered at the thought. He quickly averted his eyes and made like he wasn’t listening in on her conversation, but there was no doubt about it. He was.
“What?” Brina blared in her ear. “You’ve realized you need to profess your undying love for him because he’s the man of your dreams?”
She swallowed. “Um. I’ll talk to you later.”
She quickly ended the call and went over to him. Before she could say a word, he said, “You talking to your sister about me again?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. A little. She was just saying that the murder was almost as exciting as those selfies you’ve sent her.”
“Ah.”
“Thank you for coming when you did. I’m sorry I ruined your dinner,” she added.
He hitched a shoulder, his blue eyes locked on hers. “Not ruined. All we need to do is heat it up.” He motioned to the animals. “What do you say we get these dogs back where they belong and go eat?”
She nodded, smiling, and was about to follow him back to the clinic when DiNardo held up a hand at her.
“Audrey,” he said, pulling the phone from his ear. “The mayor’s being released from jail as we speak. And he’d like a word with you, first thing tomorrow morning. His office.”
Audrey’s stomach dropped.
*
The following day, Audrey sat at one of the chairs in the hallway of city hall, chewing on her fingernails.
Mason grabbed her hand and pushed it away from her mouth before she could gnaw her own fingers off. “Easy.”
“Ha. Easy for you to say. You’re not about to get your butt handed to you by a man you accused of murder.”
He smirked. “Oh, right. That was pretty stupid of you, wasn’t it?”
“Ha. Ha.”
“Look. Don’t forget. The mayor’s not an innocent, either. Right? Based on what you heard, he still has plans to turn Mussomeli into one big shopping mall. And that ain’t right.”
She nodded.
“Not that him being a jerk makes up for you accusing him of murder. If you did that to me, I’d hog-tie you and toss you in jail to rot.”
She looked over at him. “You would?”
“Oh, yeah. Maybe he will. Then I can have my sofa back.”
She tried to bring her other hand up to her mouth, but he quickly grabbed that one. And he held it tight, entwining his fingers with hers.
She stared at it, a little thrill passing through her. If anyone came by at that moment, they’d have thought they were together. Someone did come by, and Mason didn’t drop her hand, trying to protect whatever lone-wolf image he might’ve ahead. Instead, he seemed quite comfortable that way. Happy, even.
Audrey was so shocked by the move and what it could mean that she actually did manage to forget the mayor and her upcoming punishment for a few moments. But then the door opened, and the short old lady from the information desk, the one who’d caught Audrey doing her little spy routine, came out, a pinched expression on her already-wrinkled face.
“Dottore Smart? The mayor will see you now.”
Audrey slowly untangled her hand from Mason’s and rose to her feet. She looked down at him for the confidence she sorely lacked. He gave her a thumbs-up and murmured, “Just get it over with.”
Right. Butt-kickings didn’t last forever. Hopefully, whatever punishment he doled out wouldn’t leave any major scars.
“Want me to come in with you?”
“No.” Yes. But she was an adult. She’d gotten into this mess on her own; she needed to face the consequences on her own, too.
She had to physically concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, taking the path into the mayor’s office. They seemed to have a mind of their own, wanting to rush her t
oward the nearest exit and carry her out of Mussomeli forever. Her heart pounding and blood swishing in her ears, she passed through the doorway to find the mayor sitting there in his suit, scribbling something on a piece of paper.
He barely looked up as he said, “Take a seat, Dottore Smart.”
As if there were a bomb in the office, about to go off, Audrey crept quietly in and sat at the very edge of the tufted leather chair across from the mayor.
He seemed to take his time writing whatever he was writing, paying no mind to her. It was almost as if he wanted to make her wait, to make her dangle in the wind until she could take the torture no longer. She wiped her sweaty hands on her thighs and waited … and waited … until she was about to explode.
That was when he stopped writing and looked up. “Now. Dottore Smart. I don’t think I have to explain to you why I asked you over here.”
She shook her head. “You don’t. And I apologize for blaming the murder of the inspector on you when I clearly didn’t know for sure.”
“I didn’t call you here to apologize to me.”
“Good. Because I won’t apologize for what you’re trying to do to the town. If you think you can turn Mussomeli into a strip mall and that the citizens of this town won’t fight you tooth and nail, you’re sadly mistaken. We moved here to escape all that, and—”
“I wasn’t planning on doing that,” he said, lacing his fingers in front of him.
“You … weren’t?”
“That man I was meeting with? The Frenchman? He was another one with plans to develop the town. I took him out to lunch to tell him that by no means do I agree with those plans. Mussomeli, its people, and its heritage are not for sale.”
Audrey’s eyes bulged. “What? But I heard you and Dellisanti speaking about revitalization plans. I thought you meant—”
“Yes. The revitalization plans are to enhance the character of the main square. The fountain’s crumbling and many of the pathways are shifting and dangerous, causing people to trip. Cascarelli did an in-depth study on the main area and deemed it safe, but we were hoping that he’d look closer into the structure and say it wasn’t, because we would really like to use some of our city funds to rehabilitate it. We can’t use them, though, until the area has been condemned. That’s all.”