by Gale Deitch
Katie looked at me and smiled. “It’s a boy,” she said. “His name is Michael.”
Yes, I can do this, I thought. This was Katie’s baby, Michael. May’s dead brother’s child. I can do this. Katy’s breathing became heavy again. Another contraction.
“Push, Katie,” I said. “Push.”
Katie roared this time like a wounded animal as she pushed with the contraction. I heard a siren approaching and glanced to the window.
“Trudie, can you see the baby’s head?” the voice on the phone asked.
I shifted my gaze back to Katie and there it was, its black hair wet and slick. “I see it,” I said. “I see his head.”
“Katie, stop pushing,” the woman ordered. “Trudie, hold a clean towel underneath and get ready to catch the baby.”
Catch the baby? I grabbed a towel and held it in place. I wondered how fast the baby would emerge that I needed to catch it. In the background, I could hear the ambulance pulling up out front and footsteps up the walk and into the house. I was relieved I had left the front door open when I arrived.
The baby’s head began to slide toward me, followed by his face and shoulders, arms, legs, and feet. He slipped gently onto my outstretched towel.
“He’s here,” I said, my voice shaking.
“Good,” said the woman. “Is the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.”
I gasped and checked. “No.”
“Then tap the bottom of his feet a little so I can hear him cry.”
I followed her instructions, and Michael let out a loud wail just as the EMTs bounded up the stairs and into the room. Katie laughed, her eyes streaming. “You did it, Trudie.”
Tears stung my eyes. I shook my head at Katie. “No, we did it.”
Michael, laying on the towel in my arms, stopped crying and opened his eyes, a gorgeous sky blue just like his mom’s. I peered up at the EMTs. “What now?” I asked.
“Let his mother hold him,” said The Pioneer Woman, who I’d almost forgotten was still on the other end of the line. “Good job, Trudie. The EMTs will take over now.”
I stood, and as I laid the baby in Katie’s arms, I barely felt the pain in my body.
Chapter Nineteen
“So much for taking it easy today,” Daniel said.
I laughed and looked up at him. “Believe it or not, I really did intend to do just that. But then Katie called….”
He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “She knew who to count on in an emergency.”
We stood in the hospital corridor peering through the glass at Katie’s infant son, Michael.
Had I actually delivered this baby just a couple of hours ago? With his creamy caramel skin and fine auburn spikes of hair, he was a wonderful combination of Micah, the father he would never meet, and Katie.
“Do you want to have kids, Daniel? We’ve never really talked about it, have we?”
He grinned. “I’d like a house full of kids. What about you?”
“Definitely not a house full. But I think I could manage two or three.” I leaned against his chest. I could see a family with Daniel, outings at the park, soccer games, school fairs, vacations at the beach. He would be a great father to our kids.
Then I thought of how tiny Michael was, his little fingers and toes, his fragile neck, and I wasn’t sure if I could handle an infant. Wait a minute. I was the one who caught Michael as he left the womb. The first person in the world to hold him in my arms. Certainly, I could take care of my own babies.
Daniel put his arm around me. “We’re going to have a beautiful family.”
I sighed. “Yes, we are.”
“You’ve had big day,” he said. “I’ll drop you off at home so you can get some rest.”
May and Will were with Katie in her room, so I knew she was in good hands. It was okay to leave now.
“I’m okay,” I said. “After delivering a baby by myself today, I feel as though I can do anything. Climb a mountain. Swim an ocean.”
“No mountains or oceans today,” he said, taking me by the hand. “You’re going home to relax.”
I collapsed on the sofa when I got home. Just as I lifted my feet to the ottoman and Pye leaped up to snuggle against me, my phone rang. What now? I thought.
Ben’s name appeared on the screen. “I’m coming over now,” he said. “We need to talk.”
“Please, Ben. Not now. I delivered my friend’s baby today, and I’m still hurting from an incident I had last night.”
“Delivered a baby? You’re kidding. Right?”
I told him about Katie going into labor and me ending up delivering her baby.
“Very impressive, Trudie. I see life with you is never dull.”
“Believe me,” I said. “I didn’t ask for any of this.” I told him about the car that kept ramming into mine last night. “So, you see I’m in no shape for you to come over. I’ve got to get some rest.”
Ben was silent for a moment. “Actually, what you just shared makes it imperative that I speak to you. I’ll be there within the hour.”
I realized a nap was not in the cards today. I picked up the book, which was still open to where I’d left off when Katie called. With only a chapter and a half left, I should be able to finish it by the time Ben arrived. I sped through the pages intent on identifying the murderer. Luke Hammer was in trouble, knocked out and gaining consciousness in the shed, tied up and unable to move, the odor of gasoline splashed all around him. He squinted at two figures in the doorway, one about to light a match. Two murderers, the victim’s sister and friend.
Two murderers. Could that be the case in the murder of Gwendolyn Chong? So many other facts matched the story in this book. A victim bludgeoned to death with a hammer in the hallway, jealousy and rage, someone falsely accused, a car ramming into another, a suspect with a wig to throw off the trail. If it was true that the killer, or killers, were duplicating plot points in Hammered Halls, then Gwen could have had two murderers. But which two?
The doorbell rang, and I jumped, causing Pye to emit a loud squawk and spring off the sofa. I put my hand to my chest to calm the rapid beat.
“That must be Ben,” I said to Pye, and padded across the living room. I swung the door open wide.
“Hello, Trudie.” Belinda said, towering over Myra who stood beside her. Belinda, in a royal purple jacket with the peacock brooch affixed to the lapel, smiled at me, while Myra, dressed in one of her new outfits from Charmaine’s, seemed to have trouble looking me in the eye.
“Hi,” was all I could utter. I realized my mouth was open. I closed it with some effort. Questions reeled through my head as I wondered what they were doing here.
“What can I do for you?” I managed to ask.
“We’d like to talk to you. Can we come in?” Belinda said, not waiting for an answer and barging right past me with Myra following behind. They sat themselves down on the sofa where Belinda picked up the book to examine it.
“Ah,” she said. “Hammered Halls. One of my brother’s best works. I see you’ve read to the end. Has that helped in your little investigation?”
I took a deep breath and stood erect, shoulders back. I was tired and in pain, and I wasn’t going to let these two women intimidate me. “Look, Belinda. Please get to the point of your visit. I was about to take a nap.”
A deep laugh emerged from Belinda’s chest. “Poor dear. We’re so sorry to interrupt, but I understand from Ben that you and he are getting a little too deep into Gwen’s murder investigation. I would suggest that you leave things as they are. Your friend Ally was charged in the murder, and that’s the way it should stay. After all, you and Myra both heard her threats. Isn’t that right?” she asked, turning to Myra.
Myra nodded, but her voice was meek. “Trudie, you know what we both overheard.”
I felt heat rise from my chest to my head. “Ally did not commit that murder. I will never believe that, and Ben and I are going to continue our search until we identify the real killer. You have no righ
t coming here like this to tell me what I should or should not do. Please leave my home now.”
They stood. “Well,” Belinda said. “If you insist on pursuing the matter, we have no choice but to stop you another way.”
She grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the back door of the house. I tried to pull away, but this woman was strong. The more I resisted, the harder she pulled, setting my chest on fire with pain.
“Don’t be so rough with her,” Myra said.
Belinda clutched my arm even tighter as she reached the sliding glass door and slid it open. “It’s the only way to get her out there. Soon it won’t matter anyway.”
Outside, I leaned my body back as heavily as I could, digging my heels into the lawn.
“Give me some help,” Belinda barked to Myra.
Myra grabbed my other arm and soon they were dragging me across the grass to the shed. I began to scream, and Belinda clamped her hand over my mouth.
Oh my god. Just like the scenario in the book. Two women, two killers. Belinda dragged me into the shed and pulled something from her bag—a hammer. “Here, use this,” she said to Myra, who hesitated. “Take it. Now.”
“Myra,” I said. “After all Ally and I did for you. I’m your friend. Friends don’t do this.”
Myra took hold of the hammer and peered down at me. “I’m sorry, Trudie.” She lifted her arm high and brought the weapon down onto my head.
Chapter Twenty
Pain seared through my body, my chest, my neck, my arms, and legs. Even more intense was the sharp stab of pain that sliced through the top of my head. I attempted to open my eyes against the light that cast rays across my body. When I tried to shade my eyes, I realized my hands were bound behind me as were my legs. Where was I? Why was I tied up?
I took a deep, painful breath, and a familiar odor assailed my nasal passages. What was that smell? Gasoline. It all began to come back to me. Hammered Halls. Two killers. The sister and the friend. The shed. Oh no. If this was gasoline, that meant only one thing. I shifted my glance toward the doorway, and silhouetted, as described in the book, were two figures.
“Damn it, Myra. Where did you get these matches? From the bottom of a lake?” One by one, Belinda kept trying to strike a match, but none would light. So far.
Myra stood unmoving, peering at the ground.
My heart began to pound, and I broke out in a sweat. No, I didn’t want to die this way. I didn’t want to die, period. My life with Daniel was about to begin. We were planning a wedding. We were going to have a family. My business was thriving. I had too much to live for.
Think, I said to myself. How did Luke Hammer get himself out of this predicament? With words. He appealed to the friend. He talked his way out of it. Right now, tied up as I was, that was my only option.
“Myra,” I said.
She jerked her head toward me, obviously surprised that I’d woken to consciousness.
“Myra don’t do this. Don’t let Belinda bully you into doing something you don’t want to do.”
“Shut up, bitch.” Belinda snapped.
“If you do this, you’ll never get out of prison,” I said. “But if you help me, I’ll make sure you get leniency. Remember, I can do that. My fiancé is on the force. And I have a lawyer friend who can help you.” Where was Ben already? He should be here by now.
Belinda stomped over to me and kicked me in the chest. “I said, ‘Shut up.’”
Colors streaked before my eyes, and for a moment, I couldn’t catch my breath. I rolled onto my back and tried to bring my knees to my chest to ease the pain, with no success. I took several short breaths so I could find my voice. I had to somehow talk my way out of this. I had to keep them, or at least Belinda, talking until Ben arrived.
“Why did you kill her? What did Gwen do that was so terrible?”
Belinda glared at me. “What did she do? What didn’t she do? She took over the conference. Literally pulled the rug out from under Myra and me. The original plan was for me to be the keynote speaker, that my fans would be invited, my new book purchased and signed. Sure, I love my brother, but he tours the entire country and speaks at conferences like this all the time. I never get my chance. Never. That Chong bitch went behind our backs, contacted his publicist to book Ben as the speaker and put out the word to the media. Then she pre-registered her Ben Knight Fan Club members so there was no room for my fans or hardly any of the members of the Mystery Writers’ Association.”
“That was a terrible thing for Gwen to do, but is that reason enough to murder her?” I asked. “What was in it for you, Myra?”
Myra stepped forward. “That was part of it. I had an affair with Ben, and Gwen ruined it, ruined my chances with him.”
“You and Ben?” I said. “He didn’t seem to even know you.”
“The affair was a long time ago. I looked much different then. Bleached blonde. Makeup. Different clothes. When Ben came to DC, he used to call. We had a thing. I thought he might even divorce his wife. Then Gwendolyn Chong came along and snatched him away. With her gone, maybe I still have a chance with him.”
“But your hair, your clothes, you didn’t even wear makeup. Ally and I worked with you on all of that.”
“Just a ruse to get close to you. See what you were up to,” Myra said.
I’d known since the first time I’d met Myra that underneath her plain persona, she was an attractive woman. I thought that Ally and I had revealed that beauty. All along, Myra was only playing along.
“Myra,” I said. “Ben never had an affair with Gwen. He spent time with her because she kept growing his local fan club. They were good friends, not lovers.”
“What do you know about it?” she said.
“I know what Ben told me.”
Myra turned to Belinda. “You told me he and Gwen were having an affair.”
“Did I, now?” Belinda began to laugh. “How else was I going to get you to help me?”
Myra’s eye’s widened and she covered her mouth.
“Myra,” I continued, stalling for time, “you’ve got a good thing going right now living rent free in that gorgeous house while those people are overseas. Why would you spoil that?”
“Hah! Overseas is it?” Belinda glanced at Myra. “More like six feet under. Under the house, that is. Right, Myra?”
I gasped, and pain seared through my body.
“I’m sorry you had to hear this, Trudie.” Myra’s face was crimson. “It wasn’t me that killed them. It was her. And you really were my first woman friend.”
“Enough talk already,” Belinda said. “Let’s get on with this.” She pulled another match out, tried another strike, but failed again.
“Myra, please. Yes, I’m your friend. Ally’s your friend. You don’t do this to friends.” I nodded toward Belinda. “You’re not like her. Look what she’s making you do. Commit another murder. Myra, you’re a good person at heart. A friend.”
She looked at me a moment then glanced at Belinda who was still busy struggling with the matchbook. Myra bent down and picked up the hammer from the ground then stepped behind Belinda. She raised her arm high and brought the hammer down hard onto Belinda’s head. Belinda dropped to the ground.
Myra stood frozen, the hammer still in her hand. I saw movement behind her as Ben grabbed her from behind, knocked her down, and pulled the hammer out of her hand.
Ben turned Myra over and secured her arms with his knees.
“Chelsea,” he said with a smirk, as if he’d bumped into an old friend, as if she wasn’t just trying to kill me. “Chelsea Parker.”
“Ben Knight. You were listening to everything we said, weren’t you?” she asked.
“Yep. In fact, I was heading over here to tell Trudie I’d figured it out. Read the online version of my book and realized who the killer was. At least, I knew it was my sister. Not sure of her accomplice.
“Belinda’s the one that hammered Gwen to death,” she said. “I just knocked her unconscious from behind. Belinda d
id the rest.”
Ben looked over at his sister, lying unconscious, and shook his head. “I knew she had a bit of a mean streak, but I never thought she could do something like that.” He pulled out his phone and called 9-1-1.
“Didn’t recognize me when I was Myra, did you?” Chelsea said when he hung up the phone.
“Nope. You looked a little familiar, but that was an ingenious disguise. A great scenario for my next book.”
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me for interrupting the reunion, but could someone please untie me and get me out of here?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Katie sat on the sofa beaming down at Michael who was swaddled in her arms. We were gathered in May’s living room for the baby shower--May, Will, Daniel, my parents, and even Katie’s parents, who had melted the first time they’d set eyes on Michael.