I stepped inside and was immediately joined by a freaked-out white-and-brown spotted Chihuahua piddling on the tile floor. I stroked her while I read her rhinestone collar. “What’s going on, Bambi?”
She rolled over for a tummy rub, then popped up and pranced into the kitchen, checking over her shoulder to make sure I was following her lead.
I stopped a sec to marvel at the cookie jar collection covering every inch of counter space in the kitschy country kitchen, before skulking into a cramped dining room. To the right was a dark, narrow hallway. To the left, the living room, a tacky decorator’s nightmare I would have loved to snap a photo of to show Sam, but before I could get my phone out, Chad moaned from the other end of the house. “Somebody. Help me.”
I hurried down the hallway nearly tripping over the tiny dog. “Chad? Where are you?”
I found him in a bedroom sprawled on a bed that Lisa must have picked up at Liberace’s estate sale. His wrists were tied with pink silk scarves to the gilt banisters. Probably an all-night orgy. How romantic. They were perfect for each other.
“Ahhh, you poor thing. Did your dominatrix leave you tied up? Well, you can just stay tied up until she comes back, ’cause I’m outta here.”
“Nooo,” he rasped. “Help me.”
Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dim light, I noticed his sweaty, gray pallor. “I don’t know what’s been going on here, but you might want to rethink your lifestyle.” I drew back the velvet purple drapes to let in some daylight.
He watched me through hollow, bloodshot eyes while I untied the knot on his right wrist. His arm flopped to the bed, then slid off the side, trembling spasmodically. Something clinked on the floor. A syringe. I kicked it away.
“Oh my God. What have you done?” I shook his limp shoulders as his pupils slid out of sight. “I’m calling an ambulance.” I dug my phone out of my purse. “Hang on, Chad.”
“Momma’s home,” Lisa warbled from the kitchen. “Where’s my baby?”
Bambi bolted out of the room, running to her mommy, and a few seconds later I heard, “There’s my wittle baby girl. Momma’s baby-waby. Have you been a good wittle-biddy-boo girl?”
I was trapped. Should I hide? Where? The closet? No, I’d have to come out eventually.
“Lover? Did you come home for a nooner?” Stilettos tapped down the tiled hallway. “I’ve got your favorite dress on. The red one you said makes my ass look sexy like J-Lo’s.” She stopped in the doorway, eyes bulging. “What the hell’re you doing here?”
“Lisa, before you go ballistic, you need to hear me out.” I stood by the bed, clutching my phone. Chad’s spazzing arm brushed my leg, and Lisa went ballistic.
“Oh my God.” She raged across the room, halting at the foot of the bed. “You’re having an affair with my fiancé.” Then she zeroed in on my phone. “Oh! And you’re filming it? Figures, you sick perv. Get out or I’m calling the cops.”
“Lisa. There’s something seriously wrong with Chad. Look at him.”
Instead she lunged at me, digging her gnarly purple acrylic claws into my puny biceps, screaming, “I’m gonna fucking kill you, you whore.”
I shoved her away and toppled backward, falling hard on my back. She landed on top of me, pinning me with her massive thighs.
“Lisa!” Her big hooters blocked my view of her face. “Get off me!”
She slapped my face, and little Bambi jumped into the fray, licking my cheek like we were all playing a fun game.
“Bambi!” snapped her mother. “Go ’way so Mommy can kill this bitch!”
I struggled, screaming, “Lisa, you got it all wrong.” Slap. Lick. Lick. “I’m not having an affair with Chad.” I struggled for air. “I’m just trying to help Heather.”
“Oh really? By screwing my fiancé?” Slap. She wrested the cell phone from my grip. “How about I make a little movie of you getting bitch-slapped?” She fumbled with the phone. “Dammit, what’s your damned code?”
Lisa had to weigh at least one sixty and her thonged crotch was pressing hard into my chest. “I. Can’t. Breathe.”
“That’s not a code.” She flung my phone across the room. Slap.
I needed air or I was going to pass out, or worse. I looked for something to clobber her with and caught the glint of the syringe under the bed. I stretched my right arm toward it, my fingers almost touching it. All I needed was another two inches and I would have it, but I was fading fast. Lisa’s screeching grew muffled as my vision blurred into shimmery white.
No! You have to hold on! This is not how you’re going to die!
I forced myself back and stretched again for the syringe. Time slid into slow motion as I strained with all my might. One inch away. Half an inch.
Come on Katy, you can do it!
My fingertips grappled desperately on the dusty tile floor, then suddenly connected. I rolled the syringe into my grip, then with one final burst of adrenaline, I jammed it hard into her thigh.
“Oww!” She rolled off me. “You bitch! You stabbed me!”
Glorious oxygen flooded my lungs, and my head began to clear. I staggered to my feet, using the bed for support. Lisa yanked the syringe out of her leg, and blood bubbled from the wound. Clutching a bannister, I braced myself for her to attack. Then she finally got a good look at Chad’s lifeless body.
She gawked at the syringe in her hand, putting two and two together, and getting the wrong answer. “Oh my God. You poisoned my fiancé.”
“No! No! I just came here to warn him, that’s all. For Heather. And then I heard him calling for help.”
She flung herself on top of Chad, burrowing her head into his pillowy chest. “Oh, my sweet, sweet, darling love. Don’t leave me.”
I hung back, plastered against a purple-and-pink sponge-painted wall with freaked-out Bambi trying to wedge herself behind my legs and tinkling on my sandals. I should have run, but we needed to get help for Chad.
“Lisa,” I whispered, afraid to provoke her. “We have to call 9-1-1.”
She lifted her tear-streaked face, her blond bouffant flattened on one side, and glared at me. “Chad told me how unstable you are. And sweet little Heather took advantage of his innocent vulnerability and forced him to cheat on you. And then she fakes a pregnancy so he would have to marry her. Then she purposely gets herself pregnant with triplets so he would be trapped forever. And you,” she said, wiping her nose on the sheet, “you’ve been stalking him, and when he spurned you…” She gasped an anguished sob. “…you murdered him. So, yeah. Call 9-1-1. I really want to see how you explain this to them.”
She laid her head on his chest blubbering, and then she stopped, pressing her ear deeper into his ribs. “I think I hear a heartbeat.”
“Let me check for a pulse.” Like an idiot with a flat learning curve, I stepped toward her.
“Oh no you don’t, bitch.” She sat up, blocking me, and in a blink, slid open the nightstand drawer and whipped out a big black gun. “Don’t you dare come near him, or I’ll shoot. I mean it.” No way could she miss me at that close range.
I stepped back, hands in the air. “I just want to check for a pulse, that’s all.”
“Oh, piss off, you douche bag. I know exactly what you want to do. You want to finish him off.”
“Oh for God’s sake, Lisa. You need to think. We have to call an ambulance.”
“I am thinking.” She stood, advancing on me, brandishing the gun inches from my face. “About how good you’ll look lying dead on the floor.”
I deflected her gun-toting hand with my forearm, and shoved her away. There was a deafening explosion. The sound of the gun going off ripped through my ears as if a bolt of lightning had blasted through the walls.
She teetered backward, thudding hard against the nightstand. The gun fired again.
Lisa collapsed onto Chad, her mouth gaping, then slid to the floor, her shirt and face smeared with blood. I reached over her and grabbed the landline and dialed 9-1-1. I couldn’t hear a thing, so I
yelled, “We need an ambulance. There’s been a shooting.”
The next thing I knew, an angelic curly redhead, backlit by the sun, was hovering over me. Her mouth was moving, but it was like my head was stuffed with cotton balls. I struggled to sit up, but she held my shoulder down, shaking her head.
My gurney was lifted into an ambulance. Inside, I scanned my surroundings, totally discombobulated. Another gurney with someone on it was next to me. And then the pieces shifted into place, as a searing blast of pain shot through me.
Chapter Forty-Three
BETTER DEAD THAN WED
SATURDAY • AUGUST 17
Guest posted by Samantha Drummond
Tuesday, August 13
Part Two
Katy asked me to write this post about what happened when she was brought into the ER.
I was on duty attending a shrieking mother-to-be, who judging from the decibel level of her shrieks, evidently had a very low pain threshold. She was in early labor and only dilated to three centimeters with seven to go when Chris called from the ER and told me Katy was on her way in with a gunshot wound. I got someone to cover me and raced downstairs to the emergency entrance.
While I waited, every worst-case scenario ran through my head. I was so scared I had to put my head between my legs to keep from passing out. Finally the ambulance tore into the lot and screeched to a stop under the roofed entrance area.
The back door swung open and I stepped back so they could unload Katy. I was surprised when they hauled out Chad first. I knew he had to be the reason my best friend was in that ambulance. Had he tried to kill her?
Katy looked frightened and in pain, but alive. Her left pant leg was ripped to her crotch and a blood-soaked pressure bandage hid the thigh wound. The EMTs gave me the rundown as we wheeled her into a cubicle. Gunshot wound to the left biceps femoris muscle. Her blood pressure was low, and she’d lost a lot of blood. She was lucky though; the bullet hadn’t torn through the femoral artery, or she would have bled out in minutes.
Chad was getting all the attention, so for the first several minutes I worked on my own. Katy already had an IV saline drip, but because her blood pressure was low, I feared possible hemorrhagic shock, which could flatten her veins, so I set up another IV, along with blood pressure and pulse monitors.
We would need an X-ray and possibly an MRI to evaluate the damage, but my first assessment was a clean exit with no serious damage.
I could tell her hearing was impaired so I shouted in her ear, “You’re going to be okay, Katy. You’ve been shot in your left thigh. We have to stop the bleeding and then get an X-ray. How’s your pain?”
She scowled, gasping, as she tried to shift on the bed.
“Don’t move, you dope. I’ll give you something for the pain.”
I injected a dose of fentanyl into her IV and waited for the drug to work its magic. A few moments later her scowl softened, just as Dr. Prendergast (one of my favorite doctors) stepped in to take over. After a quick run-through of her vitals, he sent her up to X-ray. I went along to make sure she didn’t get shunted into a side corridor. It happens.
After we had her back in the ER, the doctor scrutinized her X-rays. “This young lady is very lucky.”
Katy was awake and smiling like a goofball. “What you say?”
“Your thigh bone. No damage,” said the doctor.
“The thigh bone’s connected to the knee bone,” she sang like a drunken slob.
The doctor continued, “That’s right. And no reason to think there’s any nerve damage either. But we’ll do an MRI to be on the safe side. If I don’t, your buddy here will never give me any peace.”
Katy took my hand and kissed it. “I love you, Sammy.”
I smoothed back her hair, my eyes tearing. “I love you too, Katy.”
She grinned at the doctor. “I love you, Dr. Cutie-Pie.”
“You gave her the good stuff, huh?” said Dr. Prendergast, with a wink.
“Are you married? ’Cause I’m not.” Katy waggled her left ring finger in his face. “See. Totally available.”
The doctor, old enough to be her father, shook his head. “Yes. Happily married for thirty-six years with three grown kids and a second grandchild on the way. But thanks for the offer.”
“Oh, poopie.”
“How’s your pain level, Katy?” he asked, struggling to remain serious.
“Awesome.” She dozed off, still grinning.
Dr. Prendergast chuckled. “Wish all our gunshot emergencies were as easygoing. Keep her comfortable and let’s get the MRI. She lost a lot of blood, but she doesn’t need a transfusion; nevertheless, I want to keep her overnight.”
Katy’s parents arrived while she was getting the MRI. I did my best to reassure them she would be okay, but I knew they wouldn’t truly believe it until they saw her.
Once Katy was settled in her room, everyone gathered around her, and I could tell from the amused smirks on their faces that her decibel-defying snoring had reassured them.
Chapter Forty-Four
BETTER DEAD THAN WED
SATURDAY • AUGUST 17
Posted by Katy McKenna
Tuesday, August 13
Part Three
When I woke in my hospital room, my family was there to welcome me back to the real world. It wasn’t long before I decided the real world sucks.
“I know you’re hurting, Katy, but that’s a good thing,” said Samantha. “It means you’re alive and there’s no nerve damage. If the bullet had hit your femoral artery, you might have bled out before the EMTs got there.”
The pain medication was wearing off, and I hunkered down in the bed wishing everyone would go away. “Why does this stuff always happen to me?”
“Because you have a bad habit of sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, young lady.” Ruby crossed her arms, looking mad at me.
Ben put his arm around her rigid shoulders and pulled her close. “Go easy on her, girl.”
“Mom, don’t be hard on Katy,” said Mom. “She’s been through a lot.”
“Well, so have we,” grumped Ruby. “Scarin’ the livin’ daylights out of all of us.”
Pop edged to the other side of my bed and hugged me. “Don’t mind us, Katydid. We’re all dealing with the aftershocks of Sam’s phone call telling us you’d been shot.”
“Jeez, Katy,” said Emily. “I finally have a good relationship with my big sis and you go and get yourself shot? Seriously?”
“It’s not like I meant to.”
A nurse entered the room, cheerfully asking in a soft southern drawl, “How’s your pain?”
I glared at her, curling my lip.
“Then I think you’ll like this.” She injected a painkiller into my IV. “This should hold you awhile, then next go-round, we’ll switch you to an oral dose of Vicodin.”
“I hate that damn drug,” said Ruby. “Always constipates me. Is there anything else she can take?”
“You’ll have to take that up with the doctor,” the nurse said.
At that point, constipation was the least of my worries. “Can I get rid of this damn IV? It hurts.”
“I don’t see why not, but I’ll have to get your doctor’s approval first.”
“Well, you have my approval.”
She peeked at my gauze-covered wound, seemed satisfied, and left with a warning that I needed my rest.
“I suppose we should get going.” Mom looked like that was the last thing she wanted to do. “Tomorrow we’ll pick you up and you’ll spend a few nights at our house.”
“No, don’t go yet. Tell me what happened to Chad.” For all I knew he was dead.
“His girlfriend managed to shoot him too,” said Sam. “The bullet just missed his heart and he’s stable but comatose. Evidently he’d been injected with something before he was shot.”
“He was in really bad shape when I got there. Barely conscious.”
“Why the hell were you there?” snapped Ruby.
�
�Ruby,” warned Ben.
“Well after everything that man has put her through, I think it’s a reasonable question to ask.”
“It is, Mom. Just not now.” Mom straightened and smoothed my sheet and blanket. “But be prepared to fill us in tomorrow, Katy. Because your father and I would also like to know the answer to that question.”
“So would I.” A blue-blazered, porcelain-skinned brunette stepped into the room followed by a tall, dark, and dangerously handsome man. She flashed her police badge. “I’m Detective Kailyn Murphy, Santa Lucia Police Department, and this is my partner, Mike Devlin.”
She gazed coolly at me from the foot of the bed as Devlin flipped open a notebook and faded into the background. “You are Katy McKenna?”
“Yeth.” The drug was making my tongue sluggish. “Am I in trouble?”
“I don’t know.” She titled her head. “Are you?”
“I dunno.”
Her hypnotic gaze and tranquilizing voice were making my eyes blur. “I need to ask you a few questions about today’s events.”
“Can’t this wait?” asked Pop. “My daughter’s just had a painkiller. Now may not be the best time to be asking questions.”
“I’m afraid this can’t wait.” Murphy gave him a watery smile. “We need to know what happened. I assure you it’s in your daughter’s best interest to cooperate with us.”
Ben pulled away from Ruby and faced the detective. “I’m her attorney.”
“Oh? Do you think Katy needs an attorney?”
He folded his arms over his chest, looking stern. “That depends on your line of questioning.”
I’d never seen this side of Ben before, and I caught Ruby’s impressed expression. Obviously it was new to her too, and she liked it.
The detective replied in her controlled, sedating tone, “Let’s just try this, and if you don’t like where it’s going, I will stop, Mister…”
Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection Page 43