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2 Murder on Consignment

Page 21

by Susan Furlong-Bolliger


  “What do you mean?”

  “Morgan saw us together at the Huntley.”

  “I thought I was going to catch J.J. with his mistress,” Morgan’s tiny voice came from behind. “I’d paid the clerk to tip me off when someone checked in under the name Farrell. I rented the room across the hallway and planned on waiting a bit before surprising him in the act.

  Patricia chuckled. “She was surprised all right.”

  Morgan continued. “I didn’t even know who that man was. I didn’t start to put things together until the next morning at the garage sale when you accused me of being at the Huntley with Alex Sokolov.”

  “She tracked him down,” Patricia jumped back into the conversation. “They must have compared notes because somehow Alex put it together that I’d killed those women. He was freaked out. He wanted out of the deal. He was going to head back to Russia.”

  “So, you went to his house and killed him too?”

  “He was a loose end. I had to kill him. Just like I have to kill all of you.”

  She closed in on me and straightened her aim. I ducked, closed my eyes and covered my head. Behind me, Morgan started screaming hysterically.

  A loud crack echoed through the air.

  I jumped, then jumped again at the sound of something hitting the floor. I opened my eyes and immediately looked down. Patricia was lying in a crumpled heap in front of me.

  I wasn’t shot. I wasn’t shot! But what had happened? I looked around and then back down to where a thin stream of blood was draining from Patricia’s head. Shards of blue and white ceramic littered the floor. The gun had slipped from her hand and was lying next to her limp body.

  We all stared in silence. It was Mary Frances who finally spoke first. “She’s not dead, is she? I didn’t mean to kill her!”

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  Mary Frances was visibly shaking. “I hit her with the statue. Is she dead?”

  “You should have stayed out of it, Sister,” came a voice out of nowhere.

  My head snapped around and my jaw dropped as Sarah Maloney stepped out of the shadows. “Now I’ll have to finish the job.” She stepped in with a gun pointed at me. “Killing you is going to be such a pleasure,” she said in a hauntingly low voice.

  I held my hands up. “Wait—”

  I saw a flash of light and there was a deafening crack by my left ear. My nostrils filled with an acrid smell. I dove into one of the pews, my head spinning, my heart thudding in my head, my throat closing with fear. Suddenly my entire mouth was dry. I was practically paralyzed with fear. What was happening?

  Another shot sounded next to me sending wood splinters from the pew everywhere.

  I started crawling the best I could between the pew and the kneeler, but I could hardly maneuver in the tiny space. I heard footsteps coming closer. She wouldn’t miss next time.

  Mary Francis screamed my name.

  Sarah voice rose above the chaos. “I told you to stay away from him!” I looked over my shoulder. She was standing over me, a gun pointed right at my head. Over the barrel, I could see the insane wildness in her eyes. “No,” I whimpered; my voice a tiny whisper in the huge sanctuary.

  “You just couldn’t leave him alone, could you?” she shrieked. I watched in horror as she tensed her arm, squinted her eyes, and moved her finger over the trigger. I screamed and squeezed as far as I could under the pew.

  I felt the impact as the gun’s boom resounding in my head and a sharp burning pain started spreading through the back of my leg. There was another loud bang and more screaming. I felt numb, dizzy. My leg felt like it was on fire.

  Everything went silent around me except for my short, ragged breaths. Suddenly, I felt someone pulling at me, trying to extract my limp body from its safe haven.

  “Oh God, please don’t let her be dead. Oh God.” It was my sister. I struggled to reach her, but my arms wouldn’t work. I started to hear a lot of footsteps and voices. They seemed to be coming from far away. Then there was another pair of hands. Stronger hands. They lifted me onto the top of the pew. The wood felt cold and hard against my back.

  My vision was blurry, but I could make out my sister’s face. She was talking, telling me something but I couldn’t understand the words. Then, I slipped into darkness.

  Chapter 24

  “You’re just lucky she could get your hair back to its original color,” Mom was saying as she helped me maneuver my crutches up the porch and into their front door. Watch that step, it’s slick,” she warned. There was already a thin layer of snow on the ground and the forecast had called for two more inches before the end of the day.

  It was hard to believe that only a few weeks had passed since Cherry’s wedding. My life had changed as dramatically as the weather. I was now living in my parent’s house, recovering from a gunshot wound in the butt. More specifically, to the lower lobe of my gluteus maximus; which, lucky for me, was well padded. All the extra fat absorbed the bullet and prevented it from doing any real damage to my pelvis area. Of course, I would probably always have some pain and it would take a while for the muscles to heal. I’m sure some would say it was ironic that I should endure pain in such a tender area, since I was such a pain in everyone else’s butt.

  Not only was I recovering physically, but emotionally. While I was still in the hospital, my dear friend Shep passed away. It hurt to know I was unable to be with him in the very end. However, I felt some peace in knowing that he knew the truth about Pauline’s murder before succumbing to his illness.

  According to his wishes, Shep was cremated and his ashes spread over Lake Michigan. There was no ceremony or funeral service, but my sister told me people had placed candles and flowers outside the Retro Metro in his honor. Shep helped hundreds of runaways and street kids. His memory would forever live on through the lives he had changed.

  A couple days after his death, his parents came to my hospital room. We talked for a long time, sharing stories about Shep. To my surprise, they weren’t the awful people I thought they were. They were just ordinary parents who had made mistakes. Mistakes they would regret forever. I felt sorry for them.

  That same day, an attorney visited me with official papers. Shep had willed me the Retro Metro. The attorney explained that there were no leans against the business and I could chose to dissolve it and sell off the assets; or, after a few details were resolved, take it over and run it as my own. It was a big decision.

  *

  Mom had no sooner settled me on the TV room’s sofa when the doorbell rang. “Could you get that Phil,” she said to my father who was reclined in his favorite chair and watching a football game.

  He reluctantly obliged, grumbling the whole way. I took the opportunity to grab the remote and switch to the Mystery Channel. Cable was going to be one of the great perks of living with my parents.

  Someone cleared their throat and I looked up, surprised to see Sean standing in the doorway. I sat upright, adjusting my wrinkled shirt and running a self-conscious hand through my hair.

  “You’re back to red. I’m glad,” Sean said.

  He’d only visited once while I was in the hospital and that visit was limited to official police business. He took a statement, made some small talk about my condition, and left. I heard from Officer Wagoner, that he was pretty messed up in the head. Finding out your fiancé, or ex-fiancé, was a crazed lunatic was a little too much for him.

  “Yeah, well since I’m not a murder suspect anymore, I thought I’d go back to my natural color. Brunette wasn’t me, anyway.”

  “How’s Mary Frances?”

  “She’s holding up fine.” Actually, Mary Frances was amazing. I’d never known anyone stronger than my sister. In the end, she’d saved my life by grabbing Patricia’s gun and killing Sarah before she could finish me off. It couldn’t have been easy for Mary Frances to pull that trigger. She’d never hurt anyone in her life. However, when it came down to it, she made a heroic decision and demonstrated an amazing amount
of strength.

  Sean moved closer and sat next to me on the sofa. “Patricia Farrell is finally talking. It’s a pretty twisted tale. I thought you might want to hear it.”

  I sat up a little straighter. “You bet I do.” Fortunately, Mary Frances hadn’t killed her when she hit her over the head. There were a lot of loose ends that only Patricia could tie up.

  Sean continued, “Between Morgan’s testimony and Patricia’s confession, I’ve been able to piece the whole story together. It seems Morgan knew her husband was having an affair with his secretary; in fact, she had hired an investigator who verified her suspicions. The investigator told her that J.J. and his mistress conducted most of their trysts at the Huntley next to the JimDog corporate headquarters. He even had photographs of them together.”

  “All the proof she needed for a nice divorce settlement?”

  “You got it. But she also wanted the self-satisfaction of confronting him in the act. She’d paid the front desk girl to tip her off when a room was registered under the name Farrell.”

  “So, that day I saw her go to the Huntley, it wasn’t to meet Alex, but to catch J.J. with his mistress.” I’d heard as much from Morgan already.

  “Yes, but I guess you already knew that. Anyway,” he continued. “Morgan was surprised to find Patricia there with some man, but she had no idea who he was.”

  “I gave her that piece of information the next day at the garage sale when I confronted her. I guess in a way, I set the wheels in motion for Alex’s murder.”

  Sean shook his head. “Don’t take any blame. It was all Patricia’s doing.”

  I nodded. “Sure. It’s just all so horrible.”

  He nodded. “After you confronted her and gave her Alex’s name, Morgan tracked down him down. The two of them figured that Patricia must have killed Jane and Pauline to get the recipe. The rest of it you already know--Alex backed out of the deal and Patricia killed him.”

  I shook my head. “So, what happens to Morgan now?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m guessing it’ll take her a while to recover emotionally; but she’s young. She’ll get her divorce from J.J. and be awarded a huge alimony settlement. Eventually, she’ll probably end up in another equally sick relationship with someone else.”

  “And Patricia?”

  “The case against her looks air tight. I’m sure she’ll spend the rest of her life in prison.”

  I sighed. “What about you, Sean? Everything with Sarah?” I probed, wondering if he was ready to talk about her yet.

  He looked down and started wringing his hands, nervously popping a few knuckles. “It’s all so ironic. Last year, when you took up with that guy and he turned out to be a killer, I was so hard on you. And, now I’ve—”

  “Stop. There’s no way you could have known how sick Sarah was. It’s not your fault.”

  “The signs were all there. She was so possessive.”

  “I know. I can’t believe she trashed my apartment and shot the windows out of my car.”

  “It looks like she wrote the message on your car, too. A couple cans of red spray paint were found in her apartment. She must have been stalking you all along. She followed you to the church that night and when Patricia failed to kill you, she stepped in to finish the deed. The fact that she even had a gun with her proves that she intended to cause harm. She was out to get you, Pippi.” He’d started pacing back and forth. “All this time and I didn’t even—”

  “Stop Sean. You’re not responsible for Sarah’s actions. We can put all this behind us and start over.”

  “No,” he said, standing abruptly. “Let’s not go there. Not yet. I mean…” he shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “This isn’t a good time for me now.”

  “I understand, but I want to help you.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t want your help.”

  His words stung. “I don’t get it. We’re friends. We should be able to support one another. I just want to be here for you. I need you to be here for me.”

  “I know. I should be here for you. You just lost Shep. You’ve been hurt … you were almost killed.” He was starting to get louder as he spoke, his features tightening with stress. He moved to the floor and knelt in front of me.

  “I’m so sorry, Pippi,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. I reached out to touch his face, he stopped my hand and turned it over, gently kissing my palm. I could feel the moistness of his tears. “I want you to know,” he said. “That I was wrong this whole time. I love you. I always have. I always will. I just.…” He looked away.

  “You just what?” I asked softly.

  He pulled away and stood up again. “I’ve put in for a transfer.”

  “What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “As soon it’s cleared, I’ll be transferring temporarily to Detroit. There’s a case I’ll be working undercover on. It’s big. It’ll be good for my career and for me.”

  I shook my head, unsure of what to say. I wanted to scream. Why was this happening now? What about us?

  “It’s for the best, Pip,” he continued. “I need to get away from everything for a while. It’s just temporary. I’ll be back.”

  “How long will you be gone?” I whispered, trying to stay under control.

  He shrugged. “A while. I don’t know.”

  Something inside of me gave away. I knew there was nothing I could say to change his mind. “Go then,” I finally said. A sense of peace washing over me.

  He knelt down and pulled me up, bringing me close to him. “When I get back,” he whispered, his lips inches from mine, “I’m going to come looking for you.”

  I wanted to believe him, but I knew better. My mind wandered back over the years of our relationship and the same old issues that had plagued us from the beginning. Even as he moved in closer, whispering promises about our future together, I knew something had changed—not with him, but with me. As I accepted his kisses and listened to his platitudes, my heart grew a little colder. By the time we finally said goodbye, I’d made up my mind. I realized I’d been holding on to an unrealistic hope for a future with Sean and it was never going to happen.

  Sometimes, when someone holds onto something too tightly, they close the door to other possibilities. That’s what I’d been doing all these years. I’d lost enough time. I was worth more than Sean was obviously willing to give me and I was done waiting for him. I was ready to let go and move on. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t even hurt all that badly.

  I was also ready to make some other changes.

  I decided I was going call the attorney and let him know that I’d be taking over the Retro Metro. My insecurities weren’t going to hold me back. Sure, I’d failed miserably at my old job, but for the last couple of years I’d proven that I could make a living following my passion. Shep must have believed in me, otherwise he wouldn’t have left me the Retro Metro. All I needed to do was combine what I knew about the corporate world with my passion for resale merchandising, and I could grow the Retro Metro beyond everyone’s expectations. I was going to make Shep proud of me.

  Then there’s family. After watching Shep’s parents try to make up for the time they’d lost with their own son and seeing the Farrell family’s ugly dysfunction up close, I’d learned just how important family is to me. I’d let things go over the years. I’d been caught up in my own life, my own issues, and had taken for granted the people that meant the most to me.

  All in all, losing Shep and almost losing my own life had brought everything into sharper focus. I’d come to realize that life was too unpredictable and all I held dear could be taken away in a heartbeat. What’s more, I’d wasted a lot of time waiting around for Sean. Well, I was done with all that. From here on out, things were going to be different. I was going to strike out on my own, move forward and live my life so that, one day when my time really did come, I could look back with no regrets.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE A
UTHOR

  A former high school language teacher, Susan started working as a freelance translator and writer after leaving the teaching profession. During her writing career, she has worked to compile several literary encyclopedias, text books, and medical reference dictionaries. In addition to her work as an academic writer, she has published several nonfiction articles in national magazines. Recently, she has turned to writing fiction and has published several short mysteries. Murder for Bid is her first novel. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and four children. To see more of her work, check out her website at www.sfurlongbolliger.com

  Table of Contents

  Published byMartin Sisters Publishing, LLC

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8“That

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

 

 


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