Too Many Secrets

by E B Corbin

  “That’s jist a bunch of legal shit.”

  “Yes, but you’ll need an attorney to fight it, and trusts are harder to contest than wills. In the meantime, I’m in charge and, by the way,” Roxanne paused for effect. “You’re fired.”

  “Yeah, well, I figured. You think you’re so smart. We’ll see about that when I find a lawyer willin’ to take my case”

  “And pay him with what?”

  “I’ll pay him when we win. They do that. I seen it on television.”

  “You might have a rough time finding a lawyer dumb enough to fight a trust on a contingency basis.”

  “Don’t understand those fancy words,” Patti sputtered. “But you killed my Luke, for God’s sake! That should count for somethin’.”

  “I didn’t mean to. It was him or me. I sure as hell didn’t want it to be me.”

  “So you shot Luke in cold blood,” Patti wailed. “Proves you’re a heartless bitch who’ll stop at nothin’ to steal all your aunt’s money.”

  It was useless to argue with Patti. As she glanced out the small window on the trailer door, Roxanne saw dusk fading fast to darkness. “I have to get on the road and don’t have time to quibble with you. You tried to have me killed. I survived. I won’t apologize for it.”

  “You survived… for now,” Patti growled.

  Callahan broke in. “Did I hear you threaten Roxanne?”

  “You must be mistaken.” Patti blinked at Callahan. “Wasn’t no threat. I jist stated a fact. You can’t prove I meant anything by it.”

  “I don’t need proof. I can take you to DC on suspicion you’re involved with the IRA. It would cause you a world of trouble and make your threats meaningless.”

  “Since I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that IRA shit, you’d be in a mess for draggin’ me down there.”

  “Don’t be too sure. I have a lot of discretion in closing the case against Taggart. I’m the lead investigator, so I’m following up on all leads. If you’re implicated in any way, I’ll find out sooner or later.”

  “Okay then, Mister Big-Shot Lawman, cuff me and take me away.” Patti stood holding out her hands. “I ain’t got nothin’ left here anyways.”

  “I’m not ready to arrest you… yet. But don’t cause any more problems around here, or I will come back for you. Chief Walters may not be too happy about it, but he can’t ignore a federal arrest warrant. Do you understand me?” Callahan took Roxanne’s hand, drew her up from the couch, and led her outside without a backward glance.

  “You’re full of shit! Both of ya,” Patti yelled as they closed the door. “You’ll be sorry!”

  “You did good in there,” he told Roxanne. “Patti’s dangerous. Don’t underestimate her determination about the diner.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t. I hope I did the right thing. I kind of feel sorry for her.” She flipped the collar on her jacket against the chilly night air. “Now I have to check in at the diner before I go home.”

  “I’m on my way to DC.”

  “I thought you were quitting?”

  “Can’t quit in the middle of an investigation. When it’s over, I’ll be back. Question is, will you?”

  Roxanne wished she knew the answer.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  At the diner, Roxanne found Snukie supervising the clean-up while planning the schedule for the next day. She felt confident that, aside from the credit cards, Snukie could handle running the place. Not wanting to waste any more time before heading back to Pittsburgh, she handed her the keys and gave the waitress her cell number for emergencies. She had no qualms about leaving Snukie in charge.

  After a dark, lonely drive, Roxanne arrived at her condo too late to check in at the office. She wished she had a comfortable chair to collapse into. Instead, she threw her duffel on the ugly white monstrosity and gazed at the cold, empty space, not a home, just a place to spend the night. In truth, it had never been a home, only a crash pad. Surprised at the feeling, she longed for the comfy sofa and fireplace in Oilville.

  Too tired to even think, she left the duffel where she’d thrown it and stepped into the bedroom—the room with the most furniture. The bed looked so welcoming she changed her mind about a shower collapsing on it fully dressed. Within minutes, she drifted into an uneasy slumber, haunted by visions of evil pursuers. She woke with a pounding heart, took a second to calm her nerves, before she turned over to fall back asleep—only to dream again.

  She roused herself from one nightmare where she was alone in a cell and a huge rattlesnake had her trapped in a corner, watching her with cold, reptilian eyes. The rattle of its tail twitching back and forth warned her of danger as she crouched behind the same two flimsy end tables from the O’Malley cabin. The poor excuse for a barrier the only thing that kept the snake from striking her with its fangs. The serpent slithered to the side, its black tongue darting in and out, its ten-inch fangs showing as its head rose high. It opened its mouth to strike. She sat up with a scream in her throat, breathing hard, frantically checking the floor for snakes.

  No snakes—but a scraping sound in the living room sent her heartbeat into overdrive. She cocked her head trying to pinpoint the source of the sound when she heard the slight snap of a closing door. Easing her feet to the floor, her eyes searched the darkness for imaginary vermin. A few more clicks caused her to freeze halfway out of bed. She had no idea what caused the sounds as she shook her head to clear it of visions of the reptile. The clicks were not rattles; they sounded machine-like, nothing natural.

  While she cursed herself for being such a wimp, she stumbled to the bedroom door, easing it open. A black beast with bug eyes, a circle for a nose and round two-inch canisters sticking out of its cheeks, stood at the opening. Roxanne squeezed her eyes shut, certain the frightful vision would disappear if she could only wake up. When she opened them again, the monster remained, only now it held a small revolver in one hand.

  The clicks increased in intensity as the oddity spoke. “You’re awake. Makes it even better.”

  Roxanne recognized the voice even muffled. “Patti,” she murmured.

  “That’s right. I’m here to settle this once and for all.”

  “Wha…?” Roxanne cleared her throat, then forced words out. “What do you mean?”

  “Just takin’ care of some unfinished business,” Patti jeered through the mask. “You’re harder to get rid of than a summer cold.”

  “Even if you kill me, it won’t solve your problems.”

  “Maybe not, but it’ll make me feel better.”

  “What can I do to change your mind? Let’s talk about it.”

  “Shut up! I don’t want no more of your bullshit!”

  The clicks increased wildly, and Roxanne realized something in the mask made the noise.

  Roxanne wondered why Patti didn’t shoot her the moment she showed her face. She tensed, thinking she might be able to slam and lock the door, keeping Patti out long enough to dial 911. But her cell phone was in her messenger bag on the white monstrosity of a chair in the other room.

  “Don’t worry,” Patti said with a cough. “I’m not gonna shoot you unless I have to. Just need to keep you here for a little while longer. An accident is so much easier to explain.”

  When Roxanne took a deep breath in anticipation of making a move, she became conscious of the odor gradually seeping into the room. Gas. “You can’t stay here with me and watch me die. You’ll be dead too.”

  “Not afraid of that,” Patti mumbled. “You’ve already taken everything important to me.”

  “Look, Patti, I’m sorry. I’ll try to make it up to you.”

  “Nothin’ you can do, bitch. I intend to stick around here until I see ya stop breathin’.”

  “What if you die before me?”

  “Don’t think so. I have this nifty mask. Luke got it from one of his survivalist buddies.”

  Roxanne strained to hear the words. “That won’t work against natural gas.”

  “How do you know?
It’s a gas mask.”

  “They’re made for toxic gases. Natural gas isn’t toxic.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. People die from it all the time.”

  “It explodes; that’s how they die. Please, Patti, let me open a window. The smell is making me sick.” Roxanne felt like a fool, talking to a hideous mask, barely able to understand the responses.

  “Oh, poor you. What makes ya think I care?” Patti cocked the revolver. “I could still shoot ya.”

  “Patti! Don’t fire that in here. You’d blow us both up!”

  Patti laughed. The mask made it sound evil. “Not true. I saw on Mythbusters, they shot a canister of propane with a bullet. It didn’t explode. Quit tryin’ to trick me.”

  “It’s not the same.” Roxanne felt dizzy as well as nauseous so she leaned harder against the wall for support. “A spark of any kind inside a room filled with gas will cause it to explode. You can’t believe everything you see on TV.”

  “I told you to shut up. Move back, lie down on the bed. I’m not leavin’ ’til for sure you’re dead. I made a mistake with Patterson, won’t do it again.”

  Roxanne found it hard to make sense of Patti’s muffled ramblings, although she heard ‘Patterson’ loud and clear. “You killed Ralph Patterson?”

  “What? No! I ran him over with my car. Didn’t kill him though.”

  “Then who did?”

  “How should I know? Now, quit makin’ me talk. It’s hard to breathe with this damn mask.”

  Aside from the dizziness and nausea, Roxanne found it more difficult to take in air as every minute passed. She’d read somewhere that natural gas replaced the oxygen in the air and eventually you suffocated—if a spark doesn’t cause it to blow up in the meantime. She doubted Patti’s stupid mask would keep her from smothering with no oxygen left in the condo. She hardly cared. Backing away from the monster, she wanted to lie down to sleep.

  As she collapsed onto the bed, a murmuring voice came from the hall. Great, now she’d started hallucinating. What did it matter? She’d soon be dead. All things considered, it seemed a peaceful way to go. Or it would be, without those voices growing louder outside her bedroom. When Patti’s enraged shriek drew her attention, she watched the black rubber monster back away. Then a door slammed, a lock clicked, but it didn’t seem important because breathing became so difficult she could hardly keep her eyes open.

  She imagined she saw Callahan run in and slide the window up. He stuck his head out, taking in deep gulps of air. Funny, she never expected her last thoughts would be about him. Then he rushed over, picked her up, and ran into the living area. The sliding glass doors to the balcony were wide open, allowing arctic air to blow through the condo.

  As her breathing grew easier, she realized she might not die. With both arms around Callahan’s neck she strained to search the room. “Where’s Patti?”

  “If she’s the idiot in the gas mask, she locked herself in the bathroom. We don’t have time to find her.” He ran into the hall just as an explosion rocked the building. They slammed against the far wall when a gust of scorching air blasted from her condo. Slowly, with Roxanne still clutched in his arms, Callahan slid down to the floor.

  “NO!” Roxanne screamed, slapping at his face. Her panic built as her slaps shifted his head from side to side. If he died saving her, she’d be wracked with guilt for the rest of her life. “Don’t you dare—!”

  Before she finished her sentence, he opened his eyes flashing his lopsided grin. “So you do care.”

  “Dammit,” Roxanne muttered through the tears streaming down her face. “I don’t know if I care or I’m still woozy from the gas. I know I don’t want anything bad to happen to you though.”

  “Of course not,” he said. “Then who would save you?”

  The explosion had set off a fire in the back near the kitchen. Puffs of black smoke poured into the hall making her cough. Smoke alarms screeched all around them. The door next to her condo opened, revealing a young couple, her neighbors in 10-A. She’d never seen them before. He wore pajama bottoms, his partner wrapped herself in a silk robe.

  The young man waved his hands to clear the smoke. “What’s going on?”

  “An explosion in the kitchen,” Callahan said. “Call 911—fast!”

  The young woman offered, “We have a fire extinguisher. Will that help?”

  “Yeah, anything right now.” Callahan stood, wiping smoky grit from his forehead. “Give it to me. I’ll see what I can do.”

  While the couple went to retrieve the fire extinguisher, the doors to the two remaining units on the tenth floor opened simultaneously.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus!” the grandmotherly woman from 10-C exclaimed. “Is the building on fire?” Her gray hair wrapped in a turban, she tugged at it with shaking hands. She wore a long flannel nightgown, covered with a worn terrycloth robe. “We need to get out of here!”

  “Yes.” Roxanne tried to keep her voice soothing to calm the older woman. “It’s a small explosion in my kitchen. We’ve already called 911 but you should start down the stairs. It’s best not to stay here. Don’t take the elevator.”

  “Oh my.” The woman glanced around in a state of shock. “My cats, I’ve got to get Lucy and Desi.”

  “Fine. But hurry. Do you need help?”

  “I’ll help her,” a voice said behind Roxanne.

  She jumped, whipping around at the unexpected sound.

  The middle-aged school teacher from 10-D stood in the hall, her bulky frame leaning to peer into Roxanne’s condo. “What happened here?”

  “A small explosion and fire,” Roxanne explained again. “The fire department should be on the way. Do you have a fire extinguisher by chance?”

  Callahan rushed out of 10-A and into her condo, slamming the door behind him.

  “Of course, everyone should have one,” the teacher replied in a tone she must use on her students. “Tell Mrs. Gordon to wait for me,” she said as she hustled into her apartment.

  So the older woman was Mrs. Gordon. Roxanne never knew her name before.

  Mrs. Gordon returned, clutching a tan and black cat in one arm and an orange tabby in the other. She coughed several times as the smoke continued to filter into the hall. “Which way to the stairs?”

  “I’ll go with you,” the school teacher said, thrusting a large red fire extinguisher at Roxanne. “Do you think you can handle it?”

  “I have help.” Roxanne tried to take a deep breath. “Get{cough}moving before{cough}it gets worse.”

  When the two women were through the stairwell door, Roxanne tested her doorknob. It was hot though not sizzling. She flung open the door to a wall of smoke.

  “W-hat the h-ell are you doing?” Callahan coughed from the kitchen. He sat the empty fire extinguisher on the floor surveying the few remaining flames.

  “Helping!” Roxanne yelled.

  She had no idea how the damn fire extinguisher worked, so since Callahan had most of the fire under control, she thrust the second extinguisher at him and headed for the bathroom. The explosion had blown a hole about two feet square into the exterior kitchen wall. A lot of the smoke was being sucked out of the condo into the night. Enough smoke remained to cause her to cough, gasping for fresh air, as she tried to get in to check on Patti.

  Something blocked the entrance from the inside. Even pushing as hard as she could, it wouldn’t open it over two inches. Smoke poured out from the gap, causing her to choke while wiping at her watering eyes. The blast had blown the door inward, buckling the hinges.

  Roxanne used her shoulder until the door fell inward, landing on top of an inert body. Patti’s lifeless eyes stared at Roxanne, her body twisted in a gruesome position, half propped against the broken toilet bowl. The gas mask hung from her slack fingers.

  “Oh, shit! ...I need help in here!” she called.

  Callahan arrived a few moments later but stopped short, staring at Patti over Roxanne’s shoulder. “Nothing we can do for her.�
� He turned Roxanne away from the body leading her to the outside hall as several firefighters pushed through the stairwell opening.

  Roxanne wanted to protest, except her throat hurt. Actually she was so drained she could scarcely move.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” the lead firefighter shouted. “Anyone else around?”

  Callahan shook his head. “There’s a body in the bathroom, last room in the back.”

  “Dead?”

  “Almost positive,” Callahan answered. “You can double-check. Most of the fire is out.”

  The firefighter nodded then turned to the men behind him. “Greg, take a look at the body. Mark, you and Paul check for hot spots.” He spun back to Callahan and Roxanne. “You two get out of here. Now!”

  They stumbled down the stairs holding onto each other while taking in gulps of clear air. Residents of the eighth and ninth floors huddled on the landing by the seventh-floor doorway asking questions of Mrs. Gordon and the school teacher. Roxanne didn’t see the young couple from 10-A.

  “Is everyone all right?” she rasped, her throat raw from inhaling the smoke.

  “What’s going on up there?” “Do we need to leave the building?” Frightened voices tumbled at Roxanne too fast to answer.

  “Everything’s under control,” Callahan said. “But it wouldn’t hurt for all of us to get outside.”

  “I need a coat,” someone murmured. “Me too,” came another voice.

  “No time.” Callahan ushered them toward the top step. “Let’s go. All of you, start down. Now!”

  Several stragglers from the lower floors already filled the stairwell—a few firefighters rushing them along. All had frightened, disbelieving looks on their faces as they gazed up at the crowded seventh-floor landing.

  “Let’s move!” Callahan ordered.

  Most obeyed the order with only a few glancing behind, longing for the comfort of their units.

  By dawn, Patti’s body was sent to the morgue, and a building inspector cleared everyone to return to their homes. As the unhappy residents marched past Roxanne into the building, a few cast disapproving frowns her way. She gave them a weak smile waiting until the street emptied of her neighbors before she trudged inside to see what remained of her life. Callahan followed her in silence.