Doing It To Death

by Angela Henry

  “I don’t think so, Miss Clayton,” she said between breaths. “You know I can’t let you leave.” She knelt and picked up a fireplace poker from the floor in front of the faux fireplace.

  “Are you going to kill us both?” I gestured towards Paul’s prone body on the floor.

  “I’m going to make sure I come out on top like I’ve been doing all my life. And his dumb ass will make the perfect fall guy.” She raised the poker and came at me. I crouched down, closed my eyes, and flung my arms up to shield myself. But the blow never came.

  A strangled cry that hadn’t come from me made my eyes fly open in time to see a fully conscious Paul Kirkland, with blood running down the side of his head, dragging Gloria Newcastle across the living room floor by her hair. Gloria’s hands clawed at his wrist, and her legs kicked frantically as she was dragged towards the door. I spied the cordless phone underneath the toppled coffee table and grabbed it, pushing 911. But I abruptly dropped the phone just as the operator answered when a scream filled the air. I got into the hallway just in time to see Paul and Gloria at the very end of the hallway struggling in front of the open elevator doors. There was nothing but black emptiness beyond the doors. Paul had Gloria on her feet and in a headlock with his back to the elevator door inching his way backwards towards the edge.

  “No!” she screamed. “No!” Gloria struggled and kicked against Paul, clawing and biting at his hands like a wild animal. I rushed forward.

  “Dr. Kirkland! Please don’t do this! If you kill her you’ve got even more blood on your hands, and she’s not worth it! She deserves to rot in prison!”

  “Are you kidding me? They’ll let her off scot free because of who her husband is!”

  “Not when she killed his first wife and tried to kill his daughter!”

  “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head violently. “Prison is too good for her. She doesn’t deserve to live! And neither do I. Tell Joyce I love her.”

  Three things happened all at once. Gloria Newcastle let out a blood-curdling shriek. I ran forward towards the elevator. And Mason and Jess came bursting through the stairwell door just in time to see Paul Kirkland fall backwards into the void, taking Gloria Newcastle with him.

  Epilogue

  A lot happened in the two weeks following Paul Kirkland and Gloria Newcastle’s deaths. Once his wife’s murderous past had come to light, Judge Charles Newcastle retired to Florida, but not before marrying his daughter Sharon and her fiancé Alex in his chambers. I was their witness. Sharon had finally told the man she loved about her schizophrenia and they, along with her doctors, were going to deal with it together. Dwayne Roper, aka Sam Pierson, was charged with multiple counts of fraud, identity theft, kidnapping, assault and attempted murder. The delusional woman he’d been living with at the time of his arrest bailed him out and I knew if he didn’t manage to flee the country, I’d have to testify at his trial. And I was truly looking forward to it. The mystery of his missing key was revealed when I was cleaning Queenie’s crap from Mama’s front yard and found a small key sticking out of a pile of frozen poo. Whether it fell out of his pocket into the crap on the way to his car the night of our almost hook-up or whether the beagle ate it, I’ll never know.

  Mama and Leonard came home from Hawaii just long enough to say hi and do laundry before hitting the road again, this time to Europe. Not sure how long they’ll be gone this time, but I’ve decided to buy Mama’s house when they get back. I was now the only candidate from the literacy center in the running for Dorothy’s job. Rhonda and her husband Dan were in couples counseling, and she was confidant they could get their marriage back on track. According to Rhonda, Dan had broken things off with Dr. Sarah Cordell and moved back home, although I’m betting he was the one who got dumped.

  As for me, my phone had been ringing nonstop with people from the press wanting interviews and quotes. To cope, I unplugged my phone and threw myself into work at the center, which had been its own adventure. True to Joyce Kirkland’s word, the audit of the Literacy Center hadn’t been anything to worry about. Board members Nester Kemp and Martha Simmons had shown up first thing in the morning of the day of the scheduled audit, looking stern and carrying bulky briefcases. I showed them to our conference room I’d set up for them a few doors down from Dorothy’s office. A file cart loaded with the last five years of the literacy center’s student records, attendance sheets, and budget expenditures, had been set up in the room along with a pot of coffee and a box of five doughnuts. There had been a half dozen, but I’d taken a chocolate cream-filled to sooth my nerves as Dorothy had called off sick, leaving me to handle the audit. Thanks, boss.

  “We have another audit this afternoon, Ms. Clayton, and would really appreciate not being interrupted,” Martha Simmons told me. Nester nodded in agreement.

  “Not a problem. I’ll be a few doors down if you need anything,” I’d told them and then left them to it.

  Rhonda and I had gotten busy, and the morning session was over before I remembered what Joyce had said about checking on them. I went to the door of the meeting room, my knuckles poised to knock, when I heard muffled noises through the door. I pressed my ear to the door. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. The noises were accompanied by muffled grunts. What in the world? I turned the knob and found the door was locked. I put my ear to the door and heard more of the same thwacking and grunting, only louder. Something told me not to knock. Rita, the custodian, was walking past pushing a dumpster on wheels. I gestured her over.

  “Can you open this door for me?” I whispered. She nodded and without a word slid her master key into the lock. The door unlocked with a soft click. I pushed it open wide, and my mouth fell open in shock.

  The desk had been pushed against the far wall and a net had been set up across the middle of the room. Martha Simmons and Nester Kemp were playing badminton. In the nude. Okay, that’s not completely accurate as they both wore socks, tennis shoes and terry cloth headbands to keep sweat out of their eyes. But other than that, nothing. And they didn’t miss a beat, going at it like pros as sweat coated their flushed bodies, the sagging parts of which flapped and swung with each movement. They had their game faces on and didn’t pay Rita and me the slightest bit of attention. When Martha lobbed the birdie over the net and Nestor missed, she jumped up and down and clapped, causing other parts of her body to clap as well, I quickly closed the door.

  “I wondered if they were still at it.” Rita didn’t seem at all bothered by what we’d just seen.

  “You knew about this?” I was incredulous.

  “Yep,” she said as she started to push the dumpster. I followed her. “I found out from the custodian at the Board of Education. They’ve been at this for years. They’re closet nudists and play on the naked badminton circuit. But their spouses don’t know. They order a fake audit when they need a private place to practice. Just forget what you saw and be happy nothing’s going to come of this.” And with that, Rita headed off down the hall.

  She was right, and I was happy all my worrying had been for nothing. Why should I care what two old nudists got up to behind closed doors? I headed back to the classroom, surprised to see that I had a visitor waiting for me outside the classroom. It was Joyce Kirkland. Her hair was in a messier-than-usual topknot and she had on faded jeans and an oversized black sweater underneath a winter parka. She was wearing her glasses, which barely concealed the dark circles under her eyes. Her face was make-up free. But somehow in her slightly disheveled state, she still managed to look chic and beautiful.

  “Hi, Kendra.” Her voice was low and tentative, like she wasn’t sure what kind of reception she’d get from me. I hadn’t seen her since that day at the hospital. Had it really only been two weeks ago? It felt like forever. She couldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Hey, Joyce. Are you okay?” I took a step towards her and grabbed her hand squeezing it reassuringly. She broke down in tears pulling her hand out of my grasp and burying her face in it.

  “Oh, Kendra. I am so s
orry.” She shook as the tears wracked her body. I opened the door to the now empty classroom and closed it behind us. When I turned around, Joyce had pulled a chair in front of my desk and sat down. I handed her a box of tissues and watched as she blew her nose.

  “Would you like some water?”

  “No. I can’t stay long. I’ve got a flight to catch. I’ve taken a leave of absence from the college. I’m headed to Europe to stay with friends until this whole mess settles down.” She was staring past me out the window as she said this, still not quite able to meet my gaze. Her tears were certainly genuine enough. But I didn’t believe her at all.

  “You’re not coming back, are you?” Her head snapped around and she finally looked at me.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you lied to me. There were never any letters between you and Dibb while he was in prison. You killed Otis Patterson that night, didn’t you? And there’s no statute of limitations on murder. You could still be charged.” She just stared at me without blinking before looking down at her lap.

  “I was aiming for Dibb.” Her voice was flat with no trace of emotion.

  “What happened that night? Why would you want to kill your man?”

  “Dibb was never my man, Kendra. He was my bodyguard.”

  “Bodyguard? Why did you need a bodyguard?”

  “Because as discreet and selective as I and the other Gems thought we were being, word was starting to get around about us. Men were approaching me and being very disrespectful, grabbing me, throwing money in my face, calling me names—whore, slut, bitch. It had gotten out of hand. It was happening to all four of us, but for some reason, I was getting the brunt of it. Gloria told Dibb to escort me anywhere I wanted to go. I had to pay him, of course, but nobody messed with me while I was with him, and people just naturally assumed we were a couple.”

  “Was Otis one of these men who harassed you?”

  “No,” she said in a low voice. “Otis was a sweet man, quiet and shy around women. And Lord, could he sing. But once he got a few drinks in him and was full of liquid courage, he became a loudmouth. He would pick fights with dudes twice as big as he was and get his ass kicked every single time.”

  “And did he pick a fight with Dibb that night?” I asked. Joyce simply nodded.

  “Dibb and I were sharing a joint in the TV room. Everything was fine. We were just relaxing. Minding our own business. Then all of a sudden here comes Otis. He starts talking loudly to Dibb about how he knew he was holding out on him from the Newcastle job, and he wanted his cut.

  “What did Dibb do?”

  “Just sat there on the couch with a joint hanging out of the corner of his mouth, staring at Otis with those dead eyes of his like he was nothing. Dibb told him he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about and to get out of his face before he got hurt.” More tears appeared in Joyce’s eyes and she dabbed at them with the now sodden tissue.

  “How did things get so out of hand?”

  “Because Otis was drunk and wouldn’t leave it alone. Then he asked Dibb why he’d killed Connie Newcastle. Dibb finally had enough and got up from the couch. Otis pulled out a gun. Then Dibb sucker-punched him, and before I knew it, he was on Otis in a flash, pounding him into the ground. I kept screaming at him to stop. He wouldn’t stop. I tried to grab his arm and he shoved me so hard I fell over the coffee table. Then he came at me calling me a backstabbing whore, like I put Otis up to confronting him. He thought I was the one who told Otis he was holding out on him. That’s when I saw Otis’s gun lying on the floor. I grabbed it and pointed it at Dibb, but he laughed and just kept on coming. I pulled the trigger. I never even saw Otis get up. He didn’t see that I had his gun and jumped in front of me trying to protect me from Dibb. The bullet got him right in the chest. He was dead before he hit the ground.”

  “It was an accident, Joyce. You didn’t mean to kill him. And if you’d shot Dibb instead it would have been in self-defense.”

  “And I would have told the police that, too. But I never got the chance because Uncle Pinky overheard everything. He saw what happened. Then he did something that put this whole thing in motion all to protect me.”

  “Which was?”

  “He switched the guns. He always had a revolver on him tucked into his waistband. It was the same kind of gun Otis had. When Dibb wasn’t looking, he kicked Otis’s gun under the couch and handed Dibb his gun. Told him to take the gun and get out of there and he’d take care of everything.”

  “And that’s what he hid in Lewis’s house when he was hiding out there, right? He hid what he thought was Otis’s gun, a gun with your prints on it.”

  “Yes. Lewis managed to use the phone when Dibb fell asleep and called Uncle Pinky. Uncle Pinky was the one who called the cops and told them where he was hiding.”

  “How did they convict him of Otis’s murder when he was guilty only of assault?” I asked.

  “He confessed.”

  “Confessed? Why?”

  “Uncle Pinky paid him a visit in jail and told him he knew he’d killed Connie Newcastle during that robbery, and if he confessed to the manslaughter of Otis Patterson, he wouldn’t tell the prosecutor what he knew about Connie’s murder, which he’d have gotten a life sentence or the death penalty for. He also told Dibb he’d take care of him when he got out. Dibb took the lesser of two evils.”

  “And he went to prison. Lewis got labeled a snitch. And you and your uncle moved on with your lives. But then he got out and whatever Pinky gave him wasn’t enough. He planned to use the gun to blackmail you.” She nodded.

  “My Uncle Pinky was the man back in the day, Kendra. He was a hustler, a gambler. He had a different-colored three-piece suit for every day of the week with hats and alligator shoes to match. He always looked and smelled like a million bucks. He bought a new Cadillac every year, smoked Cuban cigars, and had at least five grand in cash in his pocket at all times. Dibb saw that and figured when he got out of prison, my uncle was going to hook him up.”

  “And did he?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Joyce let out a harsh snort of laughter.

  “Are you kidding me? Ten years after Dibb went to prison, Uncle Pinky’s bootleg joint burned to the ground. He’d let his homeowner’s insurance lapse and was behind on his property taxes. Plus, he owed the IRS. He made a lot of money in his lifetime but wasn’t good at managing it. For the first time in his life, he had to go out and get an actual job as a school bus driver, because hustling is a young man’s game and he was in his sixties by then. No more fancy clothes, cars, and pockets filled with money. So, when Dibb got out and tracked him down at the nursing home, he had nothing to give him but advice.”

  “But you’d done well for yourself, and he came after you instead, right? But he needed the gun he hid at Lewis’s place in order to blackmail you and didn’t know Pinky had the real gun.”

  “I told my uncle to give me the damned gun so I could turn myself in and that cold-hearted bastard would leave us all alone. But he’d get so upset at the thought of me possibly going to prison that the nurses would make me leave.”

  “Did you know Dibb had started blackmailing your husband?”

  “Not at first,” she said. “If I’d known what was going on, we could have used the ledger to keep him off our backs. It proved he, Otis, and Gloria were behind Connie’s murder. I didn’t find out until I told him I wanted to bail Lewis out and get him a lawyer and he kept telling me we couldn’t afford it. I checked our joint savings and all the money was gone. When I confronted Paul about it, he just exploded and told me he’d had no choice. Dibb had told him I was a murderer, and he had the murder weapon and would turn it in to the police if he didn’t pay. Like a fool, Paul paid him. And he kept coming back for more money until it was all gone. When he told that bastard the well had run dry, he attacked him, and Paul had to stab him. Then he panicked and called fucking Gloria.” She said the name like it tasted bad. “Never me, his wife. It was always her he ran to with
all his problems, like I wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. I wasn’t a child.”

  “I’m not sure what the deal was between him and Gloria, or why she had such a hold over him, but the last thing Paul told me before he died was to tell you he loved you. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you before now.” Joyce’s face contorted and her mouth opened in a soundless sob. I handed her more tissues and held her hand as she cried.

  “That idiot.” Her voice was hoarse with tears, and she pounded her thigh in anger. “Paul was only guilty of being a sucker when Dibb got hold of him. But Gloria took advantage of his love for me and turned him into a killer. She deserved exactly what she got.” We were quiet for several long seconds and I wondered how Joyce Kirkland felt knowing that four men had willingly protected her at great personal expense to themselves? She got up to go and I walked her out to the parking lot.

  “What happened to Pinky’s gun?” I asked.

  “Lewis found the gun after the police showed up to cart Dibb off to jail. He asked me what he should do with it. I gave it back to Uncle Pinky. Not sure what happened to it after that.”

  It didn’t surprise me one bit. Of course, Lewis had known all along about the gun Dibb had hidden at his house. How could he have moved and not found the gun? He’d lied to me about everything. And he’d done it all to protect the woman he’d been in love with all of his life.

  “What about the Gems ledger? Lewis told me he found it in his house.” Joyce gave me a wry smile.

  “I stole Gloria’s ledger and gave it to Lewis to keep for me. Paul didn’t know what I did as a member of the Gems. I think he thought we were a book club or something. And as long as I had that ledger, Gloria never told Paul that I’d been hooking in the name of research. I even made a copy and gave it to Brenda to protect herself from Gloria in case she wanted to put servicing men for cash behind her, not that she’d cared once Betty died.”