“I’m listening.” Aidan tried to wipe the grin off his face but started laughing instead. “I came here to try to finesse him into talking. Look around.”
“So you never intended to get the ear surgery?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He shook his head and chuckled. “It all seems so silly now.”
Maybe this was a good time to tell him her crazy idea. Then if it was bad, she could deny it later and chalk it up to the benzo.
“Remember how I said that Rhett’s neighbor thought he saw Mrs. Fantome leaving at around the time of death?”
“It’s always the wife. Always.”
“But you still want to get married?” she asked.
“It’s on my checklist. No killing me.”
She laughed. It probably was on his checklist.
“Anyway, back to my theory. It wasn’t the wife. She has an alibi.”
“Dr. Solov in drag?” he said. “He’s got the legs for it. Did you notice?”
She hadn’t.
“No alibi for him either.” Aidan laughed again, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever said.
“That’s the weird thing,” she said. “I don’t think it’s him. I think it’s—”
A crash from the room next door. Then a moan. And a thud.
Crap.
32
“Was that you?” Aidan asked, too loudly.
“No,” she whispered. “Be quiet.”
Aidan started laughing again.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious.”
“I’m serious about you,” he said. “So serious.”
Then he laughed so hard that he fell off the examining table.
Something clanked next door.
Sofia looked wildly around the room. “Do you have a gun?”
“In the car,” he said.
“Any other weapons?” She had nothing.
“Do you think Priscilla could beat me at arm wrestling?”
“Probably.” Sofia hadn’t come with anything to use as a weapon. And all she could see were cotton balls and gauze. Priscilla had left her purse. More of a clutch, really. Sofia dumped out the contents, hoping for a weapon. Lipstick. A flavored condom. Wallet. Tissues. A pack of Camels and a pink lighter.
“Priscilla smokes?” Sofia forgot what she was looking for.
“Vapes,” Aidan said. “But she’s quitting.”
Sofia pocketed the lighter because she didn’t want Aidan to have anything he could use to set something on fire and dropped the cigarettes on his chest.
“Camels?” Aidan said. “You smoke Camels?”
Another crash from next door. Sofia looked for a weapon.
The models. She grabbed the boob. It was the biggest, but her thumb sank right in. Too squishy to be much of a weapon. Same with the nose. That left her with the ear. It was solid. She held up the oversized ear like a baseball bat and headed toward the door.
“I can hear you!” From his position on the floor, Aidan pointed to the ear in her hand and giggled.
She resisted the urge to kick him. “Stay here. Keep quiet.”
“Bossy lady.”
Slowly, she approached the door. She eased it open, hoping that Aidan would be quiet for at least a couple of seconds.
A sexy voice thrummed in the hall, full and rich, and the laugh was the classiest thing she’d ever heard. She’d know it anywhere.
Donna Lodge Solov.
Like she’d suspected since she realized that Mr. Jimenez’s redhead had looked like Mrs. Fantome, but couldn’t actually be her.
The lovely voice said, “Die.”
Using the hand that wasn’t holding the giant ear, Sofia tapped her front pocket. It always held her phone. Empty.
Damn.
It was at the front desk with Aidan’s.
Her best plan was to sprint back to Reception and get it, then call 911. But she’d have to leave Aidan alone. No telling what he’d do. He wasn’t safe to leave.
It would only take a minute to see what was going on. Maybe less.
She looked back at Aidan. He was lying with both arms out, like a stoned Christ. She took another step and eased the door closed behind her. Aidan couldn’t even walk to the door in his current state, let alone open it. He’d be safe in there. Kinda.
She looked down the corridor. A quick breath, then she squared her shoulders, tightened her legs and—
“Hello, Miss Salgado!”
Mrs. Solov was in the hall, just a few feet away.
Sofia’s breath came out in a whoosh, and she went into a defensive crouch, one hand in front and the ear behind, ready to slash.
Mrs. Solov held a scalpel. A bloody scalpel.
Sofia had brought an ear to a knife fight. She looked down the hall, calculating her chances.
“You’d never make it,” Mrs. Solov said.
The earlobe felt clammy in Sofia’s hand.
“The parking lot was empty when I arrived, so I thought it would be just us Solovs.” Mrs. Solov shrugged. “How did you get here?”
“Someone dropped me off,” Sofia said. “He’ll be back soon. He’s a stuntman.”
“Your little fling? Jaxon Ford?”
“How—”
“All over the internet,” she said. “Like you and Gray Cole.”
“Then you know—”
“That he’s in Montana right now. Yes. And I’m willing to bet that you’re here all alone.”
Well, that was something. Not that Aidan was in any shape to ambush anyone.
“How about I just skip on out of here?” Sofia said. “Since you’re closed anyway.”
Mrs. Solov’s sensuous laugh ran all the way up the register from sultry to schizo.
Sofia gulped.
Behind her, someone moaned. It wasn’t Aidan being goofy. Someone was in pain. Dr. Solov.
Sofia didn’t have time to think about that right now. She charged Mrs. Solov, ear held in front of her like a shield.
The scalpel arced down and buried itself deep in the outer ear. Sofia twisted it away, forcing the scalpel out of Mrs. Solov’s hands. It clattered to the floor.
Mrs. Solov slid her hand behind her back and came out holding a gun.
Even worse than a knife fight, Sofia had brought an ear to a gunfight.
She heard Violet’s voice in her head. Move!
Sofia dove sideways and landed in a roll. Martial-arts class was paying off. Then she ran down a side hall. The gun popped behind her, but if it hit her she didn’t notice.
Down the hall, around to the side, and back toward the reception desk.
A bullet sliced by her and buried itself in a bamboo stalk. Sofia dodged behind a clump. In this situation, soothing music was massively annoying.
“I locked the front door.” Mrs. Solov sounded close. “No one’s getting out of here unless I say.”
She sounded depressingly sure of herself.
The reception desk was too far away and there was no cover. Her phone might as well be on Mars.
Keeping the bamboo between them, Sofia tucked the ear into her waistband and tugged at a green chair. Either it weighed a hundred pounds, or it was bolted to the floor. Not a useful weapon.
She scooped up a magazine from the table and held it up like a club. That’s right. She was going to take out a crazy armed actress with a rolled-up People magazine. That was so much better than an ear.
But she hung on to it anyway. It was reassuring. She circled behind a second bamboo. She still had no plan. Then she looked up at the ceiling for inspiration.
Sprinklers.
They were several feet away because the atrium ceiling was so high. But not back in the examining rooms. The ceilings in there were low.
She just had to get there.
She kept backing up. A flash of white through the bamboo must have been Mrs. Solov.
Sofia eased back into a corridor and tried an examination-room door.
Locked.
She wasn’t catching any breaks today.
Slo
wly, she crept backward, trying door after door.
Mrs. Solov was lecturing the empty reception area. Sofia couldn’t make out the words, but she was pretty sure they were crazy.
She backed into a door. Emergency exit.
Locked.
That wasn’t legal.
She held back a laugh. Like locking the fire doors was the worst thing Mrs. Solov had ever done.
Slowly, she circled back. Examination room 2 gaped open.
Sofia went inside.
Dr. Solov lay sprawled on the floor. Blood coated his arms, like he’d slit his own wrists. It pooled on the floor. He looked dead, but she didn’t have time to check.
She swallowed and glanced at the door for a lock. Nothing. Of course not. That would be too easy. She closed the door. At least it opened inward.
She dragged the examining couch past Dr. Solov and wedged it against the door. It probably wouldn’t keep Mrs. Solov out for long, but she didn’t have any other options. This room didn’t even have another model ear to use as a weapon.
But she had her magazine. And Priscilla’s lighter.
Sofia climbed atop the couch.
“Found you!” Mrs. Solov pushed against the door.
It jarred the table, and Sofia swayed.
She held the lighter to the magazine, trying to ignore Mrs. Solov smashing against the door.
The magazine smoldered. Gray was on the cover with his model, Indigo whatever. She held the smoking magazine as close to the sprinkler as she could get. The table rocked under her feet.
And the sprinklers tripped. Water spouted out onto Sofia’s upturned face.
The alarm shrilled through the building.
Victory!
Hopefully, someone at the fire department would hear it.
Dr. Solov moaned. At least he was still alive.
Mrs. Solov had already forced the couch back an inch.
“You ungrateful little bitch!” Mrs. Solov screamed through the crack. “I gave you the best performance of your life.”
Maroon had been Sofia’s best performance. But she wasn’t feeling very grateful right now.
She climbed off the table and pushed it back against the door with her shoulder. It was a waiting game now. If she could hold Mrs. Solov off until the firefighters came, she’d win. Assuming they came at all. Maybe the alarm wasn’t connected to anything.
Mrs. Solov fired a shot through the door and Sofia winced behind the table. Solid. Metal. Probably enough to stop a bullet. Probably.
She kept it jammed against the door and hoped.
Mrs. Solov pushed. Even though the wet floor was getting slippery, Sofia held fast. She decided to stall. “Why did you kill Rhett Fantome, Mrs. Solov?”
No answer.
“A witness saw you there.” Not exactly, but that had been Sofia’s guess, the thing she’d been trying to tell Aidan. Mrs. Fantome would have been easy for someone like Donna Lodge to imitate, especially from a distance.
“It’s so hard to fake height, that kind of height anyway.”
So, she had been there. Slamming doors and making noise and trying to be noticed.
“You were convincing,” Sofia said. “But she had an alibi.”
The door thumped against the examining couch again.
Sofia gritted her teeth and held on. “Why kill him at all?”
The couch lurched forward a half-inch and Sofia desperately pushed it right back. Her shoulder ached from the repeated blows.
“Because you are completely incompetent investigators.”
That stung. “How?”
“You were supposed to record incriminating footage of my husband. Even a seagull could do it.”
What kind of footage? She wanted to ask Dr. Solov. But he just lay there, being unhelpful. Sofia spotted a piece of paper on the floor. It was covered with messy handwriting, but she couldn’t read it from where she was crouching.
Mrs. Solov stopped slamming into the door. Sofia didn’t move. Water trickled down her cheek.
“Dr. Solov and Mr. Fantome were dealing drugs together?”
Mrs. Solov laughed. Sure, it sounded crazy, but it was still an amazing laugh.
“OK. He was a drug dealer and we should have figured it out earlier.” Sofia tried to think of anything else to say. “But why is he in here with his arms sliced up?”
“Because. He. Ruined. My. Face.” Mrs. Solov paused between each word. Fury underlay each one.
Then Sofia heard a different voice in the hall: “Did you burn the toast again, Sofia?”
Aidan was up and out of his room.
“Oh, Sofia!” Mrs. Solov trilled.
Sofia eased the couch back. Her only weapon was a soggy magazine and an ear. But she went out anyway. Aidan would have done the same for her.
Mrs. Solov was standing behind him. She held her gun to his head, just above the unsightly dimple above his ear.
“Why is the shower running?” Aidan asked.
Water sprayed from the ceiling. His shirt was plastered to his chest.
Mrs. Solov’s makeup was starting to run. Her face looked even more like a creepy mask than usual.
“We can talk about this,” Sofia said.
Aidan took a step forward and slipped on the wet floor.
Sofia dove for Mrs. Solov. She swung the ear and cracked her right upside the head. When Mrs. Solov stumbled back, Sofia grabbed her gun hand and twisted the weapon out of it. She heard a crack.
“My hand!” Mrs. Solov screeched.
Sofia stood between her and Aidan with the gun pointed right at the problem. She prodded Aidan with her foot.
“You broke my finger.” Mrs. Solov started to cry. “It was the last thing I had left. My beautiful, beautiful hands.”
She collapsed onto the floor, cradling her broken finger.
Aidan sat up and rubbed his head. “I fell down.”
Sofia was proud that she finally had things under control.
Then the firemen burst through the front door. Four burly guys dressed in full gear with helmets.
“Drop your weapon!” One yelled.
It took Sofia a second to realize that they were talking to her.
She carefully set the gun down as far from Mrs. Solov as she could, then kicked it halfway down the corridor and held up her hands. “I’m unarmed now, but keep an eye on her.”
Aidan sat up. “She’s a dangerous woman that Mrs. Solov.”
He pointed, luckily, at Donna Solov.
Sofia blinked water out of her eyes and pointed toward examination room 2. “There’s a man in there who needs medical assistance.”
Aidan struggled to his feet and leaned heavily against her. “No, I don’t.”
“Dr. Solov.” Sofia and a fireman half carried Aidan out to Reception and dropped him onto one of the heavy green chairs.
A lot of excitement back by Dr. Solov’s room. Hopefully, he’d be all right.
“Is there a fire, miss?” asked the fireman.
“Not that I know of.”
Officer Chinn and Officer Whelks entered through the open front door. Sofia felt better. Either of them could take out Mrs. Solov if she got free.
Officer Chinn talked to a firemen standing by the front desk, who pointed at Sofia. She waved. She wanted to get up and talk to him, but her knees were suddenly completely rubbery and her heart was racing.
She sat on a fat green chair. It made a squishing noise because it was saturated with water. This was the case of the wet butts. She laughed, but then got it under control. She wasn’t going to be the hysterical one.
Aidan fell asleep and started to snore. It was a reassuring sound.
Sofia waited to tell Officer Chinn her story. That Mrs. Solov had tried to kill her husband. That the piece of paper on the floor next to him was probably a suicide note she’d forced him to write before she’d cut his wrists. That he wasn’t her only victim. That she had killed Rhett Fantome so that she could blame it on her husband. She didn’t know if Rhett and Dr.
Solov dealt drugs together. Mrs. Solov said they had, but she wasn’t the most reliable witness. Still, it was a lot of information to give them. Brendan would be proud of her.
After that she’d need ice for her shoulder and for someone to drive her and Aidan home.
33
A few weeks later, safely back in her trailer, Sofia was curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. She’d already distributed some to each of the kids—Violet, Van, and Yvette. Aunt Beth, Emily, and she were sharing the grown-ups’ bowl. Pizza was due to arrive soon.
“Do you wish you were there?” Emily pointed a buttery finger at Sofia’s television, where the celebrities were starting to arrive for the Oscars.
“Nope.” Gray had cancelled at the last minute so that he could go with Indigo Underwear, but Sofia had extracted a promise from him that made it all worth while.
“Is there a stuntman category?” Violet asked.
“Not yet,” Sofia said. “But they’re thinking about it.”
“They need one now,” Violet said. “They’re the ones who do all the work.”
Beth gave Sofia a shocked look.
Sofia shrugged. “Doing stunts is hard work.”
Van hugged his popcorn bowl with his cast. He flicked a kernel at Violet.
Violet threw a handful at him, but missed and hit Yvette smack in the face. Yvette dug into her bowl and threw a handful back at Violet.
It pretty much devolved after that.
Sofia, Emily, and Beth escaped to the kitchen.
“Should I stop them?” Emily asked.
“Let ’em blow off some steam,” Sofia said. “Especially Yvette. She needs more fun.”
“She’ll get it,” Beth said. “She’s going back to Oklahoma with me. Regular school.”
“Awesome,” said Sofia.
“How did you persuade her mother?” Emily asked. Sofia had caught her up on all the details.
“Rhett Fantome had a nice life-insurance policy, so she doesn’t need Yvette to work.”
Emily bit her lip and poured them each a glass of wine.
“I see Gray!” Violet called. “He’s got that underwear bimbo on his arm.”
“Violet!” called Emily. “We don’t use language like that.”
“That’s what Grandma called her last week,” Van yelled.
Sofia laughed. “Probably worse than that, too.”
F is for Fred Page 17