Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  “I’m amazed she had a sledgehammer in the garage. I thought we’d have to go to the hardware store.”

  “Maybe your cousin is planning on doing some home remodeling.”

  No, I’m not. The former owner left those behind.

  “I know she watches a lot of those HGTV shows,” said Erin.

  “So do I. I’ve always wanted to buy an old fixer-upper and do the work myself.”

  “Uh-uh. No way,” said Erin. “I’m not living in a dump ever again. I’m going to buy the biggest, fanciest house on the Caribbean coast. I wish I could buy a ski chalet in Vail or Aspen, too, but it’s not going to be safe coming back to the U.S.”

  “Babe, the only thing stoppin’ you is Katy. She’s the only one who’ll know we stole the money. If she can’t tell the cops it was us, how’ll they ever know?”

  “No, it’s not right. Can’t do it,” said Erin. “Besides, I can buy a chalet in the Alps.”

  Oh, thank God.

  “Babe. Get real. I’m tellin’ you we need to get rid of her. Then we can do whatever we want.”

  “I really can’t. Besides, her friend knows I was here.”

  “No problem. I can waste her, too.”

  Oh, God no! Sam has nothing to do with this.

  “Tyler, stop it. I’m not murdering my cousin, and her friend has kids.”

  “You don’t have to. I will. She’s not my cousin, so what do I care?”

  “You said she’d only last three days without water,” said Erin. “Remember? So she’s going to die anyway. By then, we’ll be long gone.”

  She’s right, Tyler. I’ll die anyway. So leave me to it.

  “Yeah, but it’ll be a long, slow, agonizing death,” said Tyler. “Is that what you want for your cousin? One bullet in her head. BAM! She won’t suffer. And to make you happy, we’ll leave her friend alone.”

  “How do you know she won’t suffer?”

  How can she ask that? Is she changing her mind about killing me?

  “I go hunting with my buddies all the time. You shoot a deer in the head, and they drop like a bag of rocks. Hardly any blood. BAM!”

  “Stop with the bams, Tyler. I can’t think.”

  “What’s to think about?” he said. “One pop, and it’s done, and then me and you—”

  “You and I.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “No. You said me and you.”

  “Same diff.”

  “No, it’s not.” Erin’s tone was terse.

  “Whatever.” Tyler resumed tearing down the hallway walls.

  After about an hour, Erin said, “I guess there’s nothing here, so....”

  So leave!

  “Let’s rip out the walls in the living room.”

  “Don’t you think we should get out of here pretty soon?” said Tyler.

  “What’s your hurry? No one expects her back until next week.”

  “I know that, babe, but the longer we stay, the higher the risk of this whole thing blowing apart.”

  “Tell you what,” said Erin. “Let’s work on these walls today and then tomorrow morning we’ll drive to L.A. and get on a flight to Costa Rica.”

  “I was thinkin’ we could make a pit stop in Vegas. Live like high-rollers for a few days.”

  “I kind of like that idea,” Erin said. “We could sell a few coins to private collectors in Las Vegas. Then we’ll have plenty of money to travel in style.”

  “How about you bankroll me in a high stakes poker tournament, and I parlay it into big winnings?”

  She snorted. “More like big losings. You’ve never played in a tournament, goofball.”

  “What do ya mean? I play in tournaments all the time.”

  “Online. I meant you’ve never played with live, in-your-face people, and real money. Big difference.” She paused. “Oh, stop with the puppy eyes. Okay. You can play poker while I shop for new clothes. Then we can charter a private plane from there. I’ve always wanted to fly in a Lear jet.”

  “I’ve never been on an airplane,” said Tyler.

  “It’s not like I’ve done it a lot. But when I was a kid, my parents took me to visit relatives in Michigan a couple of times, and we flew.”

  “I was a foster kid, remember? So no family to visit.”

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry. Poor baby. Come to Mama.”

  Judging from the next sounds, he was coming to Mama.

  I must have nodded off because the next thing I knew, the demolition derby was back in full swing. Now that they weren’t directly under me, I thought it might be safe to try to break the window. Then I’ll can yell at anyone passing by. Except my damned mouth is taped shut. Shit! Shit! Shit!

  I forced myself to stay calm and think. I really wanted to blubber and feel sorry for myself, but I’m proud to say I managed to hold it together.

  Okay, new plan. I’ll break the window and see what happens after that. Not exactly a plan, but it beats doing nothing and meekly waiting to die.

  I lay on my back and with bent knees, shimmied my butt close to the wall. Then lifted my legs and aimed my feet at the window. I listened to the rhythmic wall whacks downstairs and counted.

  One.

  Two.

  THREE!

  I thrust my feet against the window and shattered one of the panes. Shards of glass dropped to the porch roof. I froze, listening to hear if my captors had noticed.

  The wall-busters continued, so I steeled myself to break the pane next to it and after that, kick out the wood framing. Then I’d be able to lean out of the opening. Surely a passer-byer would see me.

  One, two, THREE!

  The glass cracked but didn’t fall out. I pushed my bound feet against the pane, and the glass snapped off, slicing the top of my right foot. Blood snaked its way down to my duct-taped ankles.

  I remembered Pop telling me about one of his cop buddies bleeding out within minutes when he got shot in the leg during a domestic dispute call. Oh, God. Did I sever an artery?

  I lowered my feet to the floor, waiting to see if I was going to bleed to death. I wriggled around to get a look at my foot. The wound was seeping, but not gushing, so I decided I wasn’t going to die. Yet.

  My head and shoulders wouldn’t fit through the one open pane, but I could stick my head out and make as much noise as one can when their mouth is duct taped.

  It was long past sunset, and not a soul had passed by my house. Holding myself upright for the last few hours had strained a muscle in the right side of my lower back, and my aching body screamed to lie down and sleep. A chilly breeze gusted through the window, making my teeth chatter.

  Next week at this time, all of this will be behind me. Just a bad memory. I’ll be sitting on my sofa, wrapped in a warm blanket, cuddled up with Daisy and Tabitha on one side. Josh on the other. As long as I’m alive, I still have hope.

  I was slurping a melting double-decker chocolate cone, and the ice cream dribbled down my chin. Daisy licked the drips off my feet. Her tongue felt raspy like a cat’s, and I tried to tell her to stop, but I had a mouthful of ice cream. I strained to twist away from her relentless licking, but my legs wouldn’t budge.

  My body jolted suddenly like I was tumbling off a cliff, and I woke up, but the scratchy sensations didn’t stop. Something heavy shifted on my chest and scraped my sore chin. I tilted my head up and met the glinting eyes of an enormous rat. My body shuddered, and the rat crashed to the floor and scuttled away with his buddies.

  My horrible day just got a whole lot worse. I had no idea how many rats were in the attic. Was it a few? Or hundreds? I recalled that scene in Willard when the rats swarmed over the man’s body to devour him. Sam and I had thought it was pretty cheesy-funny at the time, but now I wondered if that could actually happen.

  Try to think happy rat thoughts. I inhaled a long quivering breath, then slowly released it. Okay, got one:

  When I was six, I had a pet rat. He was white and gray. I named him Ernie after the Muppet on Sesame Street. H
e had a cute pink nose, and he went nuts when I gave him Cheerios. Ernie had a tiny red teddy bear toy that he cuddled when he slept. He was an adorable, sociable, lovable rat.

  I need another happy rat thought.

  Five years ago, I was in Disneyland with Chad. We were near the castle, and a cute packrat was sitting in a bed of purple and yellow pansies nibbling on a piece of a churro. Children gathered around, shouting, “Look at the funny bunny!” The moms and dads smiled, all knowing this was not a bunny. But so what? He was a cute little creature.

  I said to the little guy, “You’re going to have such a tummy ache from eating that greasy food.”

  And then my was-band Chad had to say, “Get real, Katy. It’s a fucking RAT!”

  The kids shrieked, and the packrat dropped his churro and dashed into the bushes.

  That memory didn’t end well but not because of the rat.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  COINS AND CADAVERS

  SATURDAY • FEBRUARY 21

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Saturday, February 14

  As dawn illuminated the sky to a soft pearl gray, a cool breeze washed over my face and woke me. It took me a second to realize where I was and another few to remember the rats. The instant I did, I squirmed and struggled to sit up. Mercifully, the nocturnal rodents must’ve called it a night.

  I broke a sweat as I shifted my stiff, aching body so I could peer out the window. I was shocked to see Erin’s car still parked in the driveway.

  A toilet flushed. Then a shower turned on. A few minutes later, the tantalizing aroma of coffee wafted through the attic air.

  Maybe Erin will give me a drink of water before they leave.

  Then it struck me that if she came up to the attic, she’d see the broken window. Please don’t let them come up here. Wait, I know! I’ll say it’s been broken for a long time and I’d forgotten to get it fixed. They’ll realize there’s no way I can get anyone’s attention anyway since I’m all tied up...right next to the damned window. Shit!

  I began the slow, agonizing scoot to the spot where they left me yesterday. Once there, I sagged against the wall, trying to squelch my hyper-breathing.

  “Hey, babe,” hollered Tyler. “Pour me a coffee, will ya?”

  “I already did,” said Erin. “It’s on the counter.”

  “We sure made a mess here.” Tyler sounded like he was right below me. “Man, she’d be pissed if she saw this.”

  “While you were in the shower,” said Erin. “I loaded all the coins into a carryon. It’s in Katy’s closet, but it’s pretty heavy, so I need you to put it in the car.”

  “Whoa, babe. Do you know what today is?”

  “No. Should I?”

  “It’s Valentine’s Day. I feel bad I didn’t get you anything.”

  At that point, Erin and Tyler took a break to acknowledge the day.

  Erin’s voice grew louder as she neared the hall. “I want to check on Katy, then we can go.”

  “Babe. We need to get rid of her. I know you don’t want to, but it’s too dangerous leaving her alive. I was thinking it would be better to get her out of here, then dump her somewhere where she won’t ever be found. No loose ends, you know.”

  Oh, my God!

  “And how do we do that?” asked Erin in a sarcastic tone.

  “Easy. We’ll put her in the car and—”

  “You do remember my rental’s a two-seater, right?”

  “How about we take her car, too?” said Tyler. “We could push it over a cliff with her in it.”

  “Not a good idea. Katy’s car is supposed to be sitting at the airport. What if her boyfriend next door, or one of the other neighbors, sees us driving it down the street? There’s not a lot of old orange Volvos running around these days, so it might get their attention.”

  “Yeah. You’re right. I didn’t think of that,” Tyler said. “I just wanna get her out of here, so nobody can find her before she’s dead. What if her friend comes over to see how you’re doing?”

  “I’ll take Katy’s phone, and in a couple of days, I’ll use it to text her family that she’s decided to stay away a little longer. Later today, I’ll text her friend, Samantha, on my phone, and tell her I’m doing better and decided to go back to the Bay Area.”

  “Works for me,” said Tyler. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “You go ahead and take the money out to the car, while I make sure we haven’t left anything behind.”

  A minute later, Tyler said, “Whoa, you weren’t kidding about this being heavy.”

  Are they really leaving now? I waited, holding my breath. I didn’t think I’d be able to breathe again until I heard the Jaguar drive away.

  The front door slammed, and Tyler yelled, “I put the suitcase behind the seats. You ready to go, babe?”

  “Not quite yet,” said Erin.

  “What do ya mean? We need to get outta here.”

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said, and you’re right. It’s too dangerous to leave Katy alive. We have to kill her,” said Erin. “Not just for us, but for her sake, too. No matter what, she’s going to die, so let’s do this and spare her the misery.”

  Oh, God. No, no, no. Crushing terror seized me, and my bowels discharged everything I’d been holding in since the night before.

  “Give me the gun,” said Tyler, “and I’ll do it while you look for her phone.”

  “No, let’s do it together. I owe her that much.”

  “Whoa. You really are a bad-ass girl.”

  “More than you know, Tyler.”

  The attic floor trembled as the ceiling staircase creaked down. Tyler entered first, singing in a creepy-sweet tone, “Kaaa-teee? How’re you doing?” He crouched beside me, and ripped the tape off my mouth. “Got any last words?” His nose wrinkled. “Oh fuck. You shit your pants?”

  My cousin stood a few feet behind him. “Please, Erin. You have the money.” I paused, striving to make my raspy words sound composed, sensible. “You don’t want to be a murderer. Right now, you can get away and live the life you were meant to live. I’ll die in a couple of days anyway, and when someone finds my body, they’re not going to connect my death with you. Besides, if he shoots me, somebody might hear the gun go off. Why risk it when you don’t have to?”

  Tyler laughed. “Your loser friends across the street are working on their cycles, so kinda doubt they’re going to hear one bullet timed to the revving engines. Vroom, BOOM, vroom.” He placed his index finger on my forehead. “Right there in the center. Won’t even mess up your pretty face.”

  Over Tyler’s shoulder, I caught and held Erin’s eyes. “I’m begging you. Think about my family. This’ll kill them, too. And they all adore you.”

  She gazed at me, her lips hard-pressed like she was holding back tears.

  Tyler, still hunkered beside me, his back to her, held out his hand, snapping his fingers. “Come on, babe. Gimme the gun. Let me put this reeking bitch outta her misery.”

  Erin shook her head slowly—eyes locked on mine—and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  The gun lifted, aimed at my head, and I closed my eyes for the last time.

  I waited for death, each passing second fractured into long milliseconds. The rumbling motorcycles faded into the background. The only thing I heard was my heartbeat whooshing in my ears, driving life-sustaining blood through my veins, not ready to concede.

  My only thought was, Shit. So this is how I die. I didn’t think about whether it would hurt. Or if there were an afterlife waiting for me. There was no montage of my thirty-two years on this earth. Nothing. With no way out, I resigned myself to my fate. The utter, mind-bending fear that I’d felt only moments before had evaporated. I felt almost peaceful.

  The gun exploded, my body jerked, and everything went silent.

  A few seconds passed, and I opened my eyes. I assumed I was dead until I focused on Tyler hovering over me, looking dumbfounded. An oozing hole split his forehead. Then he collapsed on
top of me, grinding me into the floor. His rough cheek mashed into my face and warm spittle drizzled down my cheek.

  Tyler’s dead weight crushed my chest. “Help me. Can’t. Breathe.”

  Erin held the gun pointed toward me, her eyes wide, vacant.

  The weapon slipped from her hand. For a moment she didn’t seem to notice. Then she retrieved it, her gaze never leaving mine.

  “Please, Erin,” I whispered. “Please don’t.”

  Her lips moved, but all I heard was a high-pitched eeeee, like the last time I experienced a gun blast at pointblank range.

  I shut my eyes and waited for my bullet.

  Suddenly, Tyler shifted. In a jerky motion, he slithered down my body until his head burrowed into my crotch. I sucked in a lungful of air and saw Erin dragging him off of me. She hauled his limp body to the other side of the attic, then returned to me and squatted. Her lips were moving.

  I shook my head. “I can’t hear you.”

  She left the attic. She returned with a glass of water and lifted my head to drink. My lips were cracked and sore making it difficult to sip. It trickled to the back of my tongue, and I choked and sputtered the liquid down my chin.

  Erin withdrew the glass.

  “No, please. Water.”

  She tipped it into my mouth again, and I willed it to go down my throat. At the halfway mark, Erin set the tumbler on the floor and glanced around for the roll of duct tape.

  “I have to go now, Katy,” she yelled in my ear.

  She smoothed a piece of tape over my lips, picked up the water, and left.

  This narrative is about to go from bad to worse, so I’m taking a break to decide if I want to continue or not.

  Two hours later

  I’ve decided to cut to the bare bones. It’ll be too hard to write and too awful for my family to read….

  The scurry of rodent feet woke me, re-stoking my trepidation. In the moonlight spilling through the windows, I saw rats gamboling around Tyler’s head. Thankfully, none of them were glancing my way. Being a glass-half-full kind of girl, I appreciated my tenuous good fortune.