Sarah figured that it was just a .22, but the pistol in Marlee Sue’s hand looked more than lethal enough.
“You don’t need that. Let’s just talk it over,” Sarah said, knowing the gun had been inevitable as soon has her old friend appeared.
“Yes, I think we should have a little talk,” Marlee Sue replied comfortably.
Chapter 29
“This is the craziest wild goose chase I’ve been on yet,” Pearly bellowed above the earsplitting racket of Roaring Whore’s engine.
They had taken Hoot Howlett’s lobsterboat. “I’ve been working on it,” Eldon explained. “Chance to give her a test run. Besides, he borrowed my truck without telling me.”
“You should have picked something faster,” Oliver said. “What’s-his-face will beat us yet.”
“What are you talking about? It’s thirty miles by car,” Pearly said. “He’d have to go a hundred miles an hour.”
“Maybe I should get one of those little buggies,” Eldon said as he opened up the throttle some more.
“What the hell would you do with it?” Pearly demanded.
“Why would someone go after Sarah today?” Eldon said.
“Because that fool in the little red car spilled the beans to Grinshnell,” Pearly replied.
“It’s also a chance to get Sarah alone with Owl,” Oliver said, “and I think she knows where Gerhard Burndt is buried.”
* * *
Marlee Sue grinned impishly. “Would you like a tour of Borofsky’s palace? I did some spying and saw where Roy Tupper hides the key.”
“What I’d like is to see you get rid of that gun.”
Marlee Sue motioned with the weapon for Sarah to move.
They crossed in front of Myra’s cellar hole, while Sarah tried to convince herself that this was really just her friend’s idea of a joke. How could Marlee Sue wave a gun at her, and act as though they were out for an afternoon stroll?
As they came onto the Borofsky’s lawn, Marlee Sue pointed up to the roof looming overhead.
“See the skylights? They have a full-size swimming pool up there on the third floor.”
The landscaping was still in progress around the foundation, and Marlee Sue rummaged through a small pile of dirt beside the front door, all the while keeping the gun pointed at Sarah’s chest. She picked out a rock, eyed Sarah, and made as though to throw it through a window.
“The old key-hidden-in-a-phony-rock trick? You’re kidding,” Sarah said, trying to sound as casual as Marlee Sue. What was it about keys and the Tupper clan? Eldon, with his trick shingle and his truck keys above the sun visor, and now Roy’s plastic rock.
Sarah wished her companion wasn’t having so much fun.
“Whatever works,” Marlee Sue said. She swung open the front door with a flourish, and the aroma of fresh paint surged out. “Wait until you see the front hall.”
The space soared to the third floor. A gigantic staircase swept up to a columned second floor landing that circled the upper entryway, while a huge chandelier hung down from above. The place was like a vast, ante-bellum southern mansion. No wonder Marlee Sue was so enthusiastic.
“Just look at it.” Marlee Sue’s rapturous gaze circled the hall. “The guest wing is up there to the right, and the owner’s living quarters are to the left.”
Sarah thought about her granny flat up the road. Her entire apartment would fit in the cloak room here.
“Just imagine a formal ball, with everyone in their best. Or a wedding, with bride’s maids tossing flowers from the balcony while the happy couple descends the staircase,” Marlee Sue gushed.
The hall was still being painted, and a metal scaffold, with two extension ladders beside it, ran up past the second floor balcony, to the ceiling far above.
“Mary Mother of God,” Sarah said in awe.
“They’re going to paint murals on the ceiling, like the Sistine Chapel, and floor is going to be imported Italian marble. Better shut the door, Irish, we don’t want any riff-raff wandering in.”
Marlee Sue sashayed up the staircase behind Sarah like a southern belle in a formal gown. A well-armed southern belle. “Wait until you see the upstairs. Your going to love the master suite.”
The upstairs balcony was littered with canvas drop cloths and assorted gallon-cans of paint. Babbling like a Realtor on amphetamines, her captor ushered Sarah down a hallway.
The master bedroom had a picture window that looked over the lawn and down to the water. Sarah could see Owl, still tied up, waiting patiently. With a sinking feeling, she realized the boat, nestled inside the corner of the pier, would be virtually impossible to see from the water, especially with fog dimming the sound.
“It’ll be pretty thick in a couple of hours,” Marlee Sue said.
“How did you get here?” Sarah asked.
“You said this was launching day, so I brought my boat. Easier to follow you. The Vincents seemed to be away, so I tied up to their dock.”
“You killed Evan, didn’t you?” Sarah said. “Sam was taking the blame to protect you.”
The gun wavered slightly as Marlee Sue took a half-step back. “You knew all along? I was never sure if you did.”
“It dawned on me a few minutes ago, just before you turned up. Remember when we were reminiscing over lunch in Belfast, and you saw the Missing Ring picture? You talked about how Myra told me she had lost her ring and fooled me into digging her potatoes. But that was my last summer, long after the chicken beheadings, and you never went over to Myra’s after that. You must have been following me and eavesdropping, in order to know what Myra said.”
“Those were the good old days, Irish. I used to play spy and follow you, see how close I could get without being spotted. You two never knew I was there.”
“You’ve been spying on me almost since I got here,” Sarah said. “I thought I caught a glimpse of somebody when I was at Myra’s the other day. You must have followed me down from Belfast after we had lunch.”
“I’ve burned up a bunch of vacation time playing spy, just like the old days at Migawoc,” Marlee Sue said. “I’ve had a ball.”
“And you were there spying on me when Evan—”
“I saw him jump you, so I snuck up behind him and crunched his head with a rock,” Marlee Sue said. “Then I heard Myra and Sam coming, and took off.”
Marlee Sue shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t understand why Myra never had the guts to kill him, even though I bet she wanted to a hundred times. She thought I was a wimp, but she couldn’t even stop Evan from beating her up. I saved your life that afternoon.”
Marlee Sue seemed lost in her memories. Sarah wondered if she could grab the gun.
“But you never let on, not even the next day,” Sarah said. “You never gave any sign that you—”
“—felt guilty? Why should I? I did the world a favor.”
“Who paid Hoot to run me off the road?”
“Grinshnell. I figured nobody would know him. I didn’t want to hurt you, Irish. I just wanted to make the boat disappear, scare you off, and get rid of the evidence that way.”
“You painted my car to scare me off?”
“I thought ‘slut’ was a nice touch. I was giving you one last chance to get out of Dodge, but then you traced me through Grinshnell, and I knew you’d figure out the rest.”
“But what did Myra—”
“Myra, Myra, Myra! Is that all you can say?” Sweat beaded Marlee Sue’s forehead. The gun trembled in her fingers as she struggled for composure.
“I didn’t actually kill her, if that makes you feel any better. I didn’t have to. I got the fire going in the kitchen and she fell down the stairs all by herself, without my having to do anything at all. She was pretty much dead when I found her. Lord, that dump went up like a torch. I barely got out of there myself.
Marlee Sue’s nose wrinkled. “That house was a pigsty. It stank to high heaven in there. The place was so filthy my feet kept sticking to the floor. The bitch loved rui
ning people’s lives. She just never let up. It’s her fault I had to kill Cathy.”
“Why leave her car at Pearly’s place?”
“Eldon was her boyfriend, right? I figured if Cathy’s car was left right in front of the door he’d move it and leave his prints on the wheel for the cops to find.”
Marlee Sue did her Eyeball Roll. “Talk about being gullible. I called Cathy up and told her I had some information about Myra’s death and to meet me at the boatyard after dark. Over she came, fat dumb and happy. And she didn’t even know me. I drove her over to Myra’s and shot her. She was such a sap, never suspected a thing until we got there and I pulled the gun. Ker-splash, down the well she went.”
* * *
Roaring Whore’s engine sputtered, and then resumed its din.
“Just a hiccup,” Eldon assured them.
The engine stopped.
“That’s a hiccup?” Pearly said.
“Now what?” Oliver demanded.
“Guess I didn’t get all the crud out of the fuel line,” Eldon replied. He hauled open the engine hatch.
“So clean it out and let’s go,” Pearly said.
“Not that simple. This old pig won’t self prime. We’ll have to bleed the air out once I clean the line.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Pearly said.
“Diesels can be a bitch, and we’re going to be here a while.” Eldon opened a tool box and turned to Oliver. “Hit the starter when I tell you, and keep her cranking ’til I say stop.”
“We could have sailed there quicker,” Oliver grumbled.
“I hope the battery ain’t flat,” Eldon said.
* * *
Her jailer locked Sarah inside what looked like a big, walk-in storage closet. The room was completely bare.
Sarah guessed that Marlee Sue had left to get her boat, so she could tow Owl out to deep water and sink the boat and its owner. It would take Marlee Sue a few minutes to bring her boat over from the Vincent’s dock, and there was no rush, since she’d have to wait until it was dark, or foggy enough so they wouldn’t be seen.
Sarah looked around her prison. A small window, up against the high ceiling, provided some light. Sarah chinned herself on the sill, but the window wasn’t designed to open and besides, the drop was at least thirty feet to the ground.
The room hadn’t been painted yet, and Sarah could see the seams between the panels of drywall. She remembered watching her father put up drywall once. The stuff was about a half-inch thick, plaster sandwiched between two layers of thin cardboard.
Marlee Sue hadn’t noticed the new pen knife in the pocket of Sarah’s jeans. The knife had a two-inch blade, and another about half that length. There was also a nail file, and an odd device with a screwdriver end and a serrated side.
She opened the bigger blade and cut a Sarah-sized rectangle in the drywall’s cardboard surface, between the wall studs. The plaster underneath was harder stuff. She ran the knife around the rectangle again, pushing as hard as she dared. Round and round she went, up one side, across the top, down the other side, across the bottom, slowly working through the plaster.
She contemplated her unsavory predicament while she worked. If Marlee Sue’s motive wasn’t the headstone, then what was it?
Sarah had thought she knew the “why” of the murders, namely the location of Gerhard’s grave, but not the “who.” Now that she knew the “who,” she no longer knew the “why.” It was irritating.
Then the knife blade broke.
Sarah swore as she opened the small blade. She would have to be more careful and go more slowly. The slowly part was hard when she could imagine her captor returning at any moment. It was tempting to just kick a hole in the wall, but that would be hard on her sneakered feet. It would also be noisy, and she wasn’t sure that Marlee Sue was still out of the house.
The piece finally came loose, and she found herself staring at the back side of the wall to the adjoining room. How long had it taken to get this far, ten minutes?
Sarah went to work on the next piece of drywall. She hoped Marlee Sue wasn’t trudging up the stairs for her. She hoped the room she was cutting into wasn’t locked. She wondered if Marlee Sue had any idea how to sink Owl, though Sarah figured her childhood friend would kill her before starting to chop holes in the boat.
Chapter 30
A boat is seldom completely still in the water, even when it’s not moving forward, and Roaring Whore rolled uncomfortably in the gentle swell. The starter ground away more and more slowly as Eldon ministered to the engine and the battery tired. The smell of diesel fuel was gradually masking the aroma of overripe bait.
A puff of smoke belched from the exhaust stack.
“She’s blowing smoke,” Pearly said, hopefully.
“Good sign,” Eldon agreed. “We’re getting there.”
“Get there faster,” Oliver said. A morbid fear gnawed at him, a fear that Sarah might die simply because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like Arlene. If only he had figured out what Myra was up to sooner.
* * *
The rectangle of drywall fell away, and Sarah crawled through the opening on her hands and knees to find herself in total darkness. It must be a small closet—too small to warrant a window. She stood up, reached out her hand, and took a cautious step towards what she hoped would be the opposite wall, and, with luck, a door. The far wall was only an arm’s length away, a tiny space by Borofsky standards. She groped along it and tripped over a pile of things that clattered loudly.
Sarah froze. Had Marlee Sue heard? She bent over, and her fingers located a group of metal objects that felt like pipe fittings. And also a propane torch.
Stepping around this assortment, she shuffled a bit further, found a door and opened it.
The Borofskys spared no expense when it came to the master bath. The room was still being painted, and the plumbing fixtures hadn’t been installed yet, with the exception of a whirlpool bath that looked like a small swimming pool made of reddish marble. It sat regally in front of the window, and Sarah wondered if the Borofskys were planning on curtains. Glancing out, she could see Owl still tied to the pier, with a powerboat alongside. The far shore was barely a smudge. It wouldn’t be long before Marlee Sue came for her. How could she get out of the house without her jailer spotting her?
Perhaps a distraction.
Sarah opened the windows and piled one of the canvas drop-cloths that covered the floor into the whirlpool bath.
A portable kerosene heater, looking like a miniature jet engine on wheels, was parked against one wall. A five-gallon fuel can sat nearby. Sarah removed the can’s top and dumped the container on top of the drop cloth in the tub, tossing in a can of paint for good measure. She hoped the drain was closed, but the controls, looking like something out of a NASA space shuttle, were beyond her.
The closet’s propane torch had one of those nifty self-lighting clickers. In it went, blazing away.
A gratifying “Whump,” and a cloud of black smoke erupted from the tub. There must be a fire alarm system, and with luck, it was already hooked up and calling for help. A passerby might even see smoke billowing out the windows and raise the alarm. At the very least, Marlee Sue, an orderly soul, might be sufficiently distracted by a flaming bathtub to give Sarah a chance to escape.
Sarah backed away from the growing flames and wondered briefly if she’d overdone it.
“What the HELL!”
Marlee Sue had turned up too soon. She stood frozen in the closet doorway, the gun hanging at her side as she gaped in horror at the oily billows of smoke.
“Cassidy, you BITCH!”
Sarah darted through the nearest door into the hall.
To the left, the hall led towards the Grand Staircase. No place to hide there.
Sarah sprinted in the other direction. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, a veritable shooting gallery with her as the target. An archway opened off to the right, and Sarah ducked through it as a whiplash crack
echoed down the hall. A bit of wall exploded near her head. Marlee Sue had been good at archery in camp, and the skill had obviously carried over to firearms.
The room looked like a conservatory of some sort. The outside wall was all glass, stretching two stories up to the roof. The Borofskys obviously liked plenty of headroom.
“You’re DEAD MEAT, Cassidy!” Marlee Sue bellowed.
There was a balcony half way up the inner wall, probably for the third-floor swimming pool.
Sarah ran towards another archway at the end of the room, darting under a ladder. She pulled it off balance as she went by.
The ladder fell with a crash as Sarah reached the archway. Perhaps it would slow down her pursuer.
The archway opened onto a stairwell, one flight leading up, the other down. Sarah headed down, taking the steps two at a time with a reckless abandon she hadn’t displayed since she was a kid racing through the woods at Camp Migawoc. Of course, Marlee Sue hadn’t been chasing her with a gun in those days.
* * *
Clouds of black smoke erupted from Roaring Whore’s exhaust stack, filling the air with a welcome din.
“See? That didn’t take long,” Eldon shouted happily above the engine’s deafening noise.
Eldon’s repair had taken ten minutes. Ten minutes that had seemed like an eternity to Oliver. The shore was barely visible through the fog.
“Does the radar show anything?” Oliver bellowed. He wished Hoot had spent some money for a quieter muffler.
“Kind of,” Eldon replied.
Oliver fumed as he stood on tiptoe, trying to see around Eldon’s massive back. “Any other boats around?”
Eldon fiddled with the knobs. “Looks like a boat way out. Too much clutter to be sure about anything close to shore.”
“Let’s head for Borofsky’s pier first,” Oliver said.
The boat’s stern squatted as she built up speed and began to climb her bow wave.
Gravely Dead: A Midcoast Maine Mystery Page 20