Hit and Nun

by Dakota Cassidy

  What a strange place to rendezvous with a man you were probably having an affair with—at least, that’s what I assumed this meeting was about—lining up another Sugar Daddy. So why not just meet at a hotel? Maybe that was taking too much of a chance she’d be recognized? Still, the Suzanne I’d learned a little something about probably preferred satin sheets and room service.

  My phone buzzed again, a text from Higgs, who I also hadn’t told where I was going. He’d been in a particularly rough batch of meetings with doctors and social workers for one of his shelter guys, and I didn’t want to put any more stress on him for something as simple as me taking some video while hidden.

  “More news from my source at the station…”

  You know, I’d sure like to know who the heck his source was and make him or her my new BFF. This way, I could grill the poor person with questions and skip my middleman Higgs altogether. Then maybe he wouldn’t feel as though he were betraying the people he once called his own.

  “?”

  “The toxin found in Agnar’s bloodstream is called curare. It’s a plant, apparently. That was what was on the tip of the dart found in his backside.”

  “You’re a peach, Cross Higglesworth! Hope your meetings are going well. Don’t forget to eat something!”

  “Where are you?”

  I made a face at my phone. No way was I telling him what I was doing. He’d be here in two seconds flat, and what he really needed to do was focus on his resident. There was no need for him to be involved because I wasn’t getting involved. I was going to stay hidden, get what I needed, and get the heck out.

  “Just running some errands. Chat later. Thanks again!”

  Now, before you say anything about one more fabrication from this ex-nun, that wasn’t a total fabrication. Catching Suzanne in the act of deceiving Knuckles was definitely an errand, right?

  I took a peek around again at the deserted street, wondering if I’d missed something or maybe I’d gotten here too late—or maybe the man on the other end of the line had figured me out? Five more minutes and I’d get out and take a peek around. Until then, I typed in the word curare.

  And then I bit my lower lip. Holy ham and cheese.

  The Wiki article said curare was a paralyzing poison, not dangerous if ingested, but used most often by dipping darts into the substance and delivering via blow-dart guns. It was a non-depolarizing muscle relaxant, and only harmful by injection, and can affect respiration…

  And get this—it was indigenous to South America.

  So, whoa Nellie. As I flipped though all the bits and pieces of conversations I’d had with Suzanne’s cohorts, I remembered vaguely Myer saying Agnar had been in the hospital for a severe asthma attack, and Suzanne hadn’t batted any eye. Asthma certainly affected your respiration, didn’t it?

  Ugh! What did this mean? Whatever happened to using a good old-fashioned gun to kill someone?

  Frustrated, I was still waiting on Suzanne, I flipped back to David’s Facebook page and began really looking at his pictures with a closer eye, but they were mostly of Suzanne and shots from the set, nothing out of the ordinary.

  So I went back over to her Instagram. And then I saw it almost all the way at the end of her page. A selfie of her in a bar, judging by the beers lined up behind her, and way in the background was David. I had to enlarge the picture

  Guess what David was doing?

  Throwing darts.

  A cold, black chill slithered up my spine like spider legs, making me grip the cushioned seat of my car. David plus hot for Suzanne plus darts plus shooting a movie in Brazil plus tip of dart found in Agnar’s asthma-riddled backside equaled?

  A killer!

  In the middle of my revelation, Suzanne’s Uber pulled up. I knew it was her getting out of the car by the stretch of her long legs as she stepped out and the tinkle of her laughter as she flirted with the driver.

  My hands shook as I typed a quick text to Tansy and sent the picture of David Pashman. My breathing grew heavy when I hit send. If my gut hadn’t worked before, this time it burned with the knowledge that I knew I was right.

  David Pashman had killed Agnar and I’d bet my right arm Suzanne had spoken poorly of her marriage to him, as some often do during pillow talk, and in his obsession, he took it upon himself to rid Suzanne of her problem.

  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how the hit and run fit into this, but maybe it didn’t at all. Maybe it really had been just a joy rider, and Agnar getting hit the day he died from a rare toxin was a fluke? Either way, that would have to wait. For now, catching Suzanne in the act was the business of the day.

  As Suzanne flitted across the street, graceful as a butterfly floating along a warm breeze, I once more admired how pretty she was. I wouldn’t mind the kind of grace she exhibited in heels and a skirt, but I was glad I had sneakers on as I watched her enter the building then slunk out of my car, closing the door as quietly as an old, rusty Caddy would allow.

  Phone in hand, I slipped through the shadows, because I’d watched one police show or another where someone said it was best to stay low and in the darkest places when following a human lead, and headed for the entrance to the building.

  As I scurried across the crumbling sidewalk, I followed Suzanne’s path, entering the building to the damp, musty smell of a place long unloved. The floor was covered in debris, all manner of debris, left in damp piles of rubble.

  The clack of her heels had stopped, leaving me to wonder where she’d gone. The building was three stories tall, she could be anywhere in this heap, but it still left me wondering why she chose such a remote, not to mention filthy place to meet her newest lover.

  And then I heard her voice, that breathy coo she worked so hard to utilize to her advantage. “Mathew? Where are you, darling?”

  I followed the sound into an enormous room with piles of broken pallets and discarded beer bottles. There was only one window, but it let in enough light for me to see outlines of an old mattress, likely from someone in the homeless community.

  “Mathew? Where are you? It’s filthy in here, darling. I need to see your handsome face so we can get out of here!”

  There’s the Suzanne I’d come to know and despise, Heaven forgive me. I crouched down behind a stack of pallets and waited, my heart crashing in my chest, my phone at the ready. I didn’t know how much actual video I’d get with the poor lighting, but I’d surely get audio.

  Out of the shadows, a hulking figure emerged, a large bag in hand. Man, if this was Mathew, he was the size of a freightliner. His shadow loomed over Suzanne by at least a foot, and that’s saying something, as Suzanne was at least five-seven or so.

  “Darling!” Suzanne cried as he moved toward her. She put her hand in her expensive purse as I clicked the video app on my phone to the on position.

  Mathew approached, reaching for her, and that was when Suzanne pulled something from her purse.

  I couldn’t quite see what it was—you know how that goes in the dark, right? You can pinpoint shapes, but not necessarily connect the image with your brain?

  Well, I couldn’t see, that is, until I saw.

  Know what I saw?

  You’ve likely already guessed.

  Yep. If you guessed a big fat menacing-looking gun—you’d win the chicken dinner.

  Chapter 17

  “Stop right there, darling,” Suzanne chirped, quite pleasantly, I might add, for someone who was holding a man at gunpoint. She waved the gun at him, the shape of it arcing through the air in her hand.

  “Susie?” Mathew called out, his tone clearly confused. “It’s me, honey. Put that thing away before you get hurt!”

  I could only imagine the look on Suzanne’s face as she realized Mathew didn’t think she knew who he was. She’d used an over-exaggerated expression of sweet concern at least a hundred times while allowing Knuckles to cater to her every whim.

  “I know exactly who you are, lover.”

  “Then what the heck are
you doing?” he asked, his tone clearly pained as he took a step forward, only to have Suzanne wave the gun again.

  She threw her head back, her long hair nothing but a silhouette in the dark building, and tinkled a laugh—one of those laughs Coop could take a lesson from, by the way. It was eerily sweet, definitely twisted. “I’m taking care of business of course, darling.”

  I imagine, at this point, Mathew was stunned, though I couldn’t tell from his expression. His face was a dark shadow in the blackness of the building, but his body language did the expressing for him. He stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his bag, his stiff arms going to his sides.

  “I don’t get it,” he fretted. “What are you doing with a gun, Susie? I’d never hurt you, sugar. You know that!”

  Suzanne sighed long and wistful. “Oooo, but I’d hurt you. You killed my husband, Mathew. I can’t just let that stand without some form of punishment, can I?”

  Wait—whaaat? This man had shot the lethal dose of curare into Agnar’s backend? No. That had to have been David. So what the frack was going on here? Suzanne couldn’t be here to defend Agnar’s honor after what she’d said about him on the phone? No way I’d believe that. So how did she know this Mathew, anyway? Was he one of her minions like David? Another conquest?

  Color me confused and dying to hear what they said next. Even as I thought I wouldn’t be able to hear a word of it due to my pulse throbbing in my ears, I stayed crouched with both ears at attention.

  “But you paid me to kill your husband!” he defended, his long, muscled arms extending toward Suzanne in pleading fashion.

  She chuckled and took a step closer to Mathew. “Well, I was going to pay you to kill that cheap SOB. Ten grand was the deal, right? But you didn’t do the job, darling, did you?”

  Holy Hannah, Mathew was the one who’d been driving the Crown Vic… Suzanne had paid him to kill Agnar.

  “You know I tried, Suzanne! Do you have any idea how hard it was to get past the cops with that car? I hit him, Susie! I know I did!”

  I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. Aw, man, what had I gotten myself into? This was supposed to be easy, for Pete’s sake! In and out, remember, Trixie? No confrontation. How was I going to get the heck out of this? In order to get out of the building, I had to go past them.

  Suzanne straightened her arm, her stance wide. “Do you have any idea how stupid you are? You didn’t kill him, you blundering idiot! Some rare toxic substance did!”

  Mathew’s hands clenched into balled fists—fists I’d hate for him to use on me. “What difference does it make? He’s dead. Isn’t that what you wanted? You said once he was dead, we’d be together!”

  “I said I’d pay you for a service,” she replied coolly. “That service was not rendered, Mathew.”

  Now Mathew’s body went rigid, like a tall Redwood, as the picture obviously became clear. “You stupid, selfish little b—”

  “Uh-uh-uh!” Suzanne chastised a warning as though she were speaking to a small child, pointing the gun directly at his chest. “No name calling. Is that any way to talk to your lover—a woman you professed to love until your dying day?”

  So Mathew had messed up, but David was the one who’d done it right.

  None of that mattered now. All that mattered was another murder was about to occur—Mathew’s.

  Holy cats and dogs. My mouth went dry and my now crouch-achy legs almost gave out. Yet, I was immobilized by this conversation, mesmerized by what was playing out right before my eyes.

  “Don’t move, Suzanne!” a voice shouted from the deep black pit that was the doorway.

  Oh, thank the stars, maybe help had arrived? As my head swiveled, and I heard the rush of a pair of feet, I squinted into the darkness and my stomach clenched into a tight knot. On the contrary, help hadn’t arrived at all.

  “David?” I heard Suzanne whisper in disbelief, taking a step back as he pointed a gun at her.

  I fought a loud gasp, stuffing my fist into my mouth to keep from squealing my dismay like a pig. David had obviously come to confront Suzanne, and he had a gun to make her listen.

  Heaven and a pepperoni pizza, now we didn’t have one gun in the mix but two—not to mention, two mad-as-a-hatter murderers ready to pull the triggers.

  The game was certainly afoot.

  “David, darling, what are you doing here?”

  I couldn’t help but hear the genuine surprise in her voice, the shock, and I had to wonder—what the heck was going on?

  David rushed forward, holding the gun up and pointing it at Suzanne’s head. “Don’t you darling me! I did this for you, and this is how you betray me?” he screamed, jarring me to the core.

  Somewhere along the way, the clouds had shifted and the moon appeared, sending a shaft of light into the one window of the building. I could clearly see David’s face, the pain written all over his smooth, youthful features.

  And I also saw Suzanne narrow her gaze in his direction. “What are you talking about, you fool?” she bellowed, stomping her foot.

  David’s lower lip trembled, his words sounding like they were fighting their way out of his throat. “You said you loved me!” he cried. “You told me your husband was horrible, that he was going to leave you penniless, with nothing—that he hurt you! You said being with him was torture. You said if you could get away from him, you’d be with me, but it was impossible. You said he’d find you and make you come back! You said he’d leave you with nothing! So I killed him! I killed him for hurting you! And all this time you were cheating on me with him?”

  Now Suzanne’s eyes popped open wide in surprise, but the three-way standoff continued. No one backed down, no one moved. “Loved you?” She laughed a cruel chuckle. “I never loved you, you moron, but thanks for taking care of business, because this idiot sure didn’t. Now give me the gun, David.”

  “Nooo!” He screamed so loud, the entire building shook with the sound of his voice, making me cringe while he closed in on Suzanne. His pain was crystal clear, and the empty promises she’d made had torn him up enough to make him kill for her. “You said we would be together, Suzanne! You said it over and over, but you lied! You liiied!”

  Okay, so here’s the thing, I was so wrapped up in the dialogue between these three people, so entranced by the dynamic that had been revealed, I sort of forgot everything else. Like, doing the smart thing while I was hidden.

  Which would have been to text Higgs and Tansy while they were screaming at each other and my legs still had a chance at un-kinking themselves, yes?

  But nooo. I’d been so lost in this drama, so determined to videotape Suzanne’s deception, I forgot all about the smart thing to do—the right thing to do long past the time I should have done it.

  And admittedly, I remembered too late because my aching legs, legs that kept me hidden securely behind the stack of pallets, gave out just as I pressed send to share with Higgs and Tansy the address of the building and what was happening right before my very eyes.

  So yes. Then my legs collapsed, and what happened next? I fell out from behind the pallets and rolled into the outer corner of the room.

  In the exact spot the light from that once-hidden-behind-the-clouds moon shone on the floor. Just lucky, I guess.

  As three very surprised faces looked down at me, I gave them a weak smile based on a cringe. “So, heeey, guys. Funny story. Three murderers and an ex-nun walk into an abandoned building…”

  Chapter 18

  Remember when I said there were two guns in the mix? Indeed, that was the truth, and now they were both pointed at me.

  Suzanne looked down at me, her face a mask of twisted fury, while David’s eyes were wild and unblinking as his hand quivered. Mathew stood between the two, rooted to the spot instead of running for his life.

  Me? Well, my throat was drier than the Mojave and my legs trembled like Jell-O as I lie on the dirty ground, the stench of mold and empty beer bottles in my nostrils.

  “Get up!” Suzanne screamed
at me, stomping her foot on the ground. “Get up, you interfering, blathering, dowdy imbecile!”

  You know, I don’t want to take exception here, but dowdy is rather mean. I’m not dowdy. I’m average, thank you. But I suppose she wouldn’t want to haggle about that right now. So I rose to my feet, but not without struggle, because listen, I could stand to do a sit-up or two to strengthen my core.

  Note to self, if the universe sees fit to allow you your life, Trixe “Lazy” Lavender, buy a treadmill pronto.

  As I stood, both guns swung in different directions, seemingly with no particular place to go. I mean, who was shooting whom here, right?

  Instantly, my hands flew up in the air. I can’t say for sure what happened to my phone, but for all the good it would do me now, I think I dropped it when my legs gave out, but I prayed my texts to Tansy and Higgs had gone through.

  So now, let me lay this out for you. Suzanne had a gun. David had a gun. Mathew and little ole’ me were at a disadvantage. It stood to reason, if the people without guns made a move, one of them was going to get shot.

  We were in such close proximity in this bizarre standoff, it would be impossible to make a break for it, and both of us knew it. So here we were, two of us afraid to make a move, and two gun happy, lunatics.

  “Miss Lavender?” David squeaked, sweat glistening above his lip and leaving a fine sheen along his forehead. “What are you doing here?”

  I licked my lips and swallowed hard, wiping my clammy hands on my thighs. “You know, funny you should ask. I was going to ask you the same thing—Ben.”

  “Ben?” Suzanne squawked, her eyes glittering in the dark. “Who’s Ben?”

  Ah. My opportunity to stall. Every killer has a story, according to my pal Stevie, and they all want to share theirs. This was my chance to figure out how to get out of this bind. “Ben’s a journalist for Truth Seeker Confidential,” I replied, hoping my voice didn’t wobble as much as my legs. “He asked me a bunch of questions about you just yesterday, didn’t you, Ben? But you didn’t tell me you knew her personally. How do you know each other, Ben?”