by Laura Childs
“There are cars parked all around me,” Nadine snarled. “So you’re going to give me yours.”
Suzanne patted the pockets of her khaki slacks and came up empty. “In my jacket,” she told Nadine. “Inside.” Cold water trickled down the back of Suzanne’s neck. An even colder feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach.
“Where?” demanded Nadine.
Suzanne made a slightly futile gesture. “In the kitchen, hanging on the back hook.”
“Get over here,” ordered Nadine. “And don’t you dare cry out. Don’t utter a single word.”
“Just the keys,” murmured Suzanne. “I’ll hand over the keys and then you’ll leave?”
“Nothing’s that easy!” barked Nadine. “You, Miss Snoop, are coming with me.”
“No way,” said Suzanne, finally putting some force in her voice. Go with this crazy lady? I don’t think so.
The pistol in Nadine’s hand waggled back and forth. “I have ways of making you do exactly what I want,” said Nadine with a giggle. Her voice was a low mix of craziness and excitement.
What happened to the Nadine I thought I knew? Suzanne wondered. What happened to Nadine Carr? Has some hellish doppelganger suddenly invaded her body?
Could this possibly be the same woman who’d come to the Knit-In? Who’d just been awarded a bright purple ribbon at the cake-decorating contest? What was going on? Had the world gone completely mad and suddenly lurched off its axis?
Then it all hit Suzanne in a rush. Like a freight train steaming recklessly toward her, like a terrible cyclone churning its way across fields and city blocks, wreaking destruction. “You killed Ozzie Driesden!” Suzanne said, in a pained voice. “And Bo?”
Nadine’s aged face pulled itself into an evil, knowing smile. “Aren’t you the clever one.”
“But why?” asked Suzanne. Why on earth?
“Not remotely your business,” said Nadine. “Even though you took it upon yourself to make it your business. Always trying to stay one step ahead of our illustrious Sheriff Doogie. Well, we’ll just see what happens when you disappear. See how fast it takes him to find your dead, decaying body.”
Suzanne stared at her. “You’re insane.”
“No,” said Nadine, her voice dripping with venom, “I’m just tying up loose ends. Because you, Suzanne Thetz, have been way too interested in my personal business.” Nadine pulled her lips into a tight rictus of anger. “Now . . . move!”
“Not gonna happen,” declared Suzanne. “No way, no how.” She knew she had to make a stand. Here was as good a place as any.
Nadine swung her arm around and pointed the gun directly at Baxter’s head. He was standing in the rain, some ten feet from Suzanne, watching the two of them as though he were a spectator at a tennis match, wondering in his little doggy brain what part he should play. As Nadine aimed directly at him, worry seemed to flicker in Baxter’s brown eyes as lightning blazed in the sky above.
“No!” screamed Suzanne.
“Then move!” ordered Nadine.
Suzanne clumped woodenly toward the back door. Would Dil come running back to tackle Nadine? Or would Baxter come charging after them like Rin Tin Tin on a rescue mission? Grab Nadine from behind and shake her like a rag doll until the pistol flew from her hand?
None of that happened. Even though the night sky crashed and boomed above them, no deus ex machina descended from heaven to serve as Suzanne’s ultimate salvation.
All Suzanne could do was grab the spindly little door handle and yank the back door open. And hope. Fervently hope that someone would come to her rescue without anyone getting shot!
There was another loud crack of thunder, a flicker of lights, and then a strange sulfurous, electrical smell seemed to permeate the air.
And just as Suzanne stepped across the threshold into the steamy, warm kitchen of the Cackleberry Club, every light in the place winked out!
Nadine jabbed the hardness of the pistol into the small of Suzanne’s back. “Don’t get any funny ideas, Suzanne. I’m right behind you and I know how to use this pistol. My husband showed me how, a long time ago. I can’t imagine you’d want a bullet fired directly into the base of your spine, would you?”
“Not really,” babbled a nervous Suzanne. “I’ll do whatever you say, okay?”
“Just get the keys,” Nadine told her in a cold voice. “And hurry up!”
Suzanne batted helplessly at the couple jackets that hung on the back pegs. “Can’t see,” she told Nadine. She was feeling disjointed and spacey, struggling to make her hands coordinate with the impulses in her brain. “Got to grab a flashlight.”
“Then do it,” snarled Nadine, jabbing the gun harder against Suzanne’s backbone.
How can I signal Sam? Suzanne wondered. Or even Toni? She’s skinny, but she’s feisty. Maybe the two of us together could take Nadine down.
Feeling like an unwilling participant in a slow-motion dream sequence, Suzanne was acutely aware of Petra making an impromptu speech out in the cafe. This was followed by a round of applause. Would someone come tromping through the door into the kitchen? She held her breath. No, now Petra was talking again.
Suzanne’s fingernails skittered across the back shelf, touching upon the hard rubber of Toni’s flashlight.
But she was shaking and shivering so badly that when she grabbed for it, the flashlight slipped through her hand. Tumbling wildly, end over end, it hit the floor with a loud clunk.
“Clumsy idiot,” snapped Nadine. She shoved Suzanne roughly aside, then reached down and grabbed the end of the flashlight.
And that’s when the gods finally smiled down and played their cool little trick.
Because the instant Nadine’s fingers touched the flashlight, her body jerked and spasmed like it had been struck by a million volts of electricity! Her back arched sharply, her jaw snapped shut, her eyes bulged, and even her hair seemed to stand on end. “Waaaaah!” came a strangled moan from deep within Nadine’s throat. “Hwaaaah!”
“Dear Lord,” muttered Suzanne, “she’s grabbed the Taser end of Toni’s flashlight!”
“Waaaah!” screamed Nadine. Now she sounded like a wild animal caught in a leg trap. “Rwaaaah!”
The voices out in the cafe seemed to falter. There were hurried footsteps and the door swung open. Petra and Toni peered into the kitchen, each holding a candle aloft and looking scared. Joey was right behind them.
“What’s going on?” asked Petra, her voice squeaky-scared.
“We heard weird noises,” Toni said in a rush. “Horrible noises. Is somebody sick?”
“Or at death’s door?” asked Petra.
Suzanne did a quick side step and kicked the pistol as well as Toni’s tricky flashlight away from Nadine. Then she leaned down and carefully grabbed the right end of the flashlight and shone it on Nadine’s crumpled body.
“Holy crap!” exclaimed Toni. “It’s Nadine!”
“What did you do to her?” gasped Petra, as Nadine continued to gag and twitch.
Joey let out a low whistle as he peered over Toni and Petra’s shoulders. “Get a load of her!” he exclaimed. “She’s thrashing around like she needs an exorcist! Cool!”
Suzanne shook her head and backed away, as if Nadine were some nasty, poisonous reptile. “I didn’t do anything to her,” gasped Suzanne. “She did it herself. Grabbed the Taser end of Toni’s flashlight.” Suzanne kept the flashlight’s wavering beam focused on Nadine, who was still jerking and quivering on the kitchen floor. “She murdered Ozzie,” Suzanne said, shakily. “And probably Bo Becker!”
Petra let out a sharp scream, then her mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish.
“Yowza,” breathed Toni.
Suzanne was trembling as she went on to explain. “Nadine held a gun on me. And when I wouldn’t cooperate, she threatened to shoot Baxter!” Suzanne stumbled backward and sat down heavily in a cane chair that was parked there, while Nadine continued to writhe slowly.
Petra took a step
closer. “She’s in a very bad way, like she’s having a fit!”
“She kind of is,” said Suzanne, drawing a shaky breath. “And thank goodness for it.” She glanced at Petra. “Can you go back into the cafe and tell everyone that I dropped the ice cream or something? Or banged my thumb? Tell them there’s nothing to worry about?”
Unsure, Petra shifted from one Croc-shod foot to the other. Her nature, of course, was to help, to nurture. Finally she said, “Okay. I guess I can do that.”
“Toni,” said Suzanne, fighting hard to jump start her brain, “get on the horn and see if you can rouse Doogie, okay? Then we’ll tie this monster up.”
“No, ma’am,” said a voice from the doorway. “I’ll tie her up.”
“Who’re you?” asked a startled Joey. He jumped back as a dark figure loomed toward him.
“Wha . . . ?” said Petra. They all turned to find Dil silhouetted in the back doorway of the kitchen.
“Dil!” said Suzanne. “You came back!”
“I... I couldn’t leave you with her,” said Dil. “I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not, Dil?” asked Suzanne. She had to get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all!
Dil extended a trembling hand and pointed at Nadine. “I saw her coming out the back door of that funeral home,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I was hiding back behind the Dumpster where she couldn’t see me.”
“And then what happened?” asked Suzanne. “What did you see?”
“I saw the cops and ambulance come,” said Dil. He looked terrified. “I knew the man inside was dead.”
“What man?” asked Petra, fascinated by Dil’s strange narration.
“The owner,” said Dil. “Ozzie. He gave me money a couple times.” Dil looked like he was ready to cry. “He was nice.”
“Yes, he was nice,” said Petra. Now she sounded hoarse, like she was ready to cry.
Toni grabbed the flashlight from Suzanne’s hand and shone it directly into Dil’s face. “Your name is Dil?” she asked.
He nodded his grizzled head slowly.
“Howdy,” said Toni. “Glad you showed up.”
“Nice to finally meet you,” Petra murmured, wiping her eyes.
“Dil,” said Suzanne, “go out to the shed and see if you can find some rope so we can tie Nadine up, will you? And make sure Baxter’s okay?”
“Sure,” said Dil.
Petra shifted her gaze back to Nadine. “I can’t imagine what got into her.” She sounded deeply sad and utterly shocked. “You think you know a person ...”
“But I guess you never really know their deep, dark secrets,” filled in Toni.
Petra continued staring at Nadine. “You think she’ll recover? Nadine sure looks wonky.”
“Four hundred thousand watts ripping through your system will do that,” said Toni, sounding almost philosophical. “She’s just lucky she didn’t wet her pants.”
‘Toni!” said Petra.
“I’m just saying,” said Toni. She grabbed a length of twine off the shelf, knelt down, and looped it around Nadine’s wrists. “You ask me, I think we oughta truss her up like a holiday hog.” Toni yanked the twine tight around Nadine’s wrists, then gave an extra hard tug.
Petra did better than just explain the so-called mishap in the kitchen. She went back out into the cafe, jollied everyone up, thanked them for coming, then bid them all good night. Happy and sated from good food and drink, from companionship and laughter, their guests trooped out the front door of the Cackleberry Club and into the night, commending Petra for a job well done, a dinner elegantly prepared.
All except Sam Hazelet, of course.
“What’s going on?” he asked as the last guest departed. Worry seemed to have etched some lines into his handsome face.
Petra raised her eyebrows and crooked an index finger. “Follow me.”
“What?” he asked.
“You’re not gonna believe this,” she told him.
“Holy buckets!” Sam exclaimed when he saw Nadine curled up on the floor, her hands tied. “What happened to her?” He hurried to Nadine’s side and knelt down, his practiced fingers searching for a pulse. “What did you do to her?”
“Not to worry,” said Suzanne, her voice surprisingly calm now. “She’s still alive and breathing.”
“But not kicking,” said Toni. “She’s what you’d call stunned.” She brandished her combo flashlight and stun gun and waggled it in front of Sam’s face. “A slight mishap with a Taser.”
“Who did this?” asked Sam, gingerly taking the stun gun from Toni’s hands and handling it like he was carrying a vial of the Ebola virus. He stared at Toni, who shrugged and nodded at Suzanne. Sam shifted his surprised gaze to Suzanne. “You did?” He sounded shocked. “Why on earth?”
“Long, strange story,” said Suzanne.
Toni pointed to the pistol that still lay in the corner where Suzanne had kicked it. Gray and dangerous, it looked like a nasty mechanized rat. “Nadine threatened to shoot Suzanne,” she explained.
“What the . . . ?” asked Sam, still puzzling over the bizarre scene.
“You don’t get it, do you?” said Suzanne. Her eyes sparkled for a few seconds, then tears coursed down her cheeks. “Nadine killed Ozzie. She killed Bo.”
Sam leapt up and was across the floor in a heartbeat. Sweeping Suzanne into his arms, he pressed her against his chest while she sobbed softly. “Shhh,” he murmured, gently stroking her head. “It’s okay, you did good. You’re safe now.”
He held Suzanne, whispering softly to her, until Dil came clumping in with a coil of rope. Sam seemed surprised to see this strange, hulking man, but held his questions for the time being. Together, the two of them hoisted a rag doll Nadine onto the cane chair, men carefully bound her arms and legs. As Sam was tying the final knot, Nadine’s head lolled drunkenly and her eyes peeped open.
“She’s coming around!” said Joey, who’d remained pretty quiet until now.
“Wah?” said Nadine. A thin string of drool dripped from the corner of her mouth.
“Don’t try to talk,” Sam told her. “Just take a few deep breaths.”
“Let her talk,” said Suzanne. There was bitterness in her voice. “Let her confess.”
“Deputy Wilbur Halpern’s on his way,” Petra told them. “Running fast, lights and sirens all the way. And Doogie’s apparently five minutes out. He was blabbing on his cell phone, cruising for home, when the law enforcement center radioed his emergency frequency and told him to head for the Cackleberry Club.”
“Thank goodness,” said an exhausted Suzanne. Dil’s presence had been hastily explained to Sam. Nadine had been tied up.
“Maybe we should . . . move out into the cafe?” suggested Sam. The lights had come back on, but they were all jammed, eyeballs to elbows, in the little kitchen, surrounded by the detritus of the evening’s gourmet dinner.
Toni jabbed a thumb at Nadine, who was glaring at them with hooded, angry eyes. “What are we going to do with her?”
Sam looked at Dil and shrugged. “Move her out, too?” he suggested.
The two men picked up Nadine, chair and all, and carried her out into the cafe. Toni and Joey hastily cleared one of the large tables so they could all sit down.
Suzanne settled into the chair farthest away from where they’d put Nadine. “What a day,” she said, stroking her forehead lightly with her fingertips.
“What were we saying before?” asked Petra. “About this being a perfect day?”
“Not,” said Toni, sounding exhausted.
Sam, who was seated beside Suzanne, looking more than a little worried, reached over and held his palm against Suzanne’s forehead. “You feel hot,” he told her. “And you’re awfully pale. Shaking a little, too.”
“Haven’t eaten,” she told him. The evening’s events were starting to catch up with her and manifest themselves physically.
“Suzanne’s always had a slight problem with low blood sugar,” offered Petra.
“Then she should eat something,” said Sam. “Right away.” He peered anxiously at Suzanne. “Could you eat something?”
Suzanne nodded her head. “I think so.” She was feeling slightly dazed and anxious. “Can somebody feed Baxter, too?” she asked.
Dil jumped up. “I’ll do that.”
Sam was still more than a little concerned about Suzanne. “Let’s try to get her blood sugar level up. A few sips of orange juice, something sweet. . .” He started for the kitchen.
“Some cake,” said Toni.
“And some protein?” asked Petra. She jumped up and followed Sam.