by Elaine Macko
But I couldn’t move. My shoulder hurt so much.
The door had slammed shut when I fell. I groped with my left hand and turned the knob. It opened. I braced myself on the table and knocked the lamp to the floor. The bulb popped, plunging the room into darkness.
My right arm hung limply at my side, no good to me now. I managed to push the door open with my left shoulder and started slowly down the icy steps. At the bottom something hit the middle of my back. I fell forward into the snow and landed on my shoulder sending shock waves through my entire body.
Monica ran back up the steps, probably to get the doorstop, or worse, a knife.
I dragged myself to a bunch of trashcans just as Monica rushed back down the stairs. Behind the trashcans was a pile of wood and a few low bushes. They would have to do for cover.
I crawled behind, biting down on my lip to keep from screaming out.
“I know you’re out here. You can’t get away. Just ask Elvira. It didn’t do her any good either.” Monica’s voice broke the silence only a few feet from where I hid.
As true dread set in, I thought quickly. I left my purse in my car along with my cell. The only thing I had were my keys but they were tucked into my coat pocket. If I tried to reach for them Monica would hear me.
She passed the woodpile and continued down the path to the front yard. I poked my head out. Was there a back way out? Very little light from the street penetrated here and I couldn’t see a single thing. The cold seeped through my wet clothes and my arm ached so bad I didn’t think I’d be able to keep from screaming too much longer.
I heard Monica’s voice calling out for me but nothing else. The neighbor’s party was still going on, but they would never hear me from there. My whole body throbbed. Something trickled down my cheek. Sweat or blood? I couldn’t tell in the dark. Monica’s legs appeared through a crack between the bushes and the woodpile. This might be my chance. If I could get my hand through the bushes I might be able to grab her leg. And then what?
Far off in the distance I thought I heard a familiar, welcome sound but couldn’t be sure. And if I was wrong, I was done for. It was now or never. My right arm throbbed. I mustered up all the strength I could and forced it to pick up a piece of wood. Monica had wandered down the driveway and this was my chance to inch forward positioning myself to grab her leg the next time she walked by.
I heard the crunch of her footsteps. Right in front of me I made out the back of her legs. I was in position, up on my knees ready to pounce. I just needed her to take a few steps away to give me more room to propel myself at her.
And then the worst possible thing happened. She turned around and was facing the bush, was facing me.
I said a silent prayer as tears sprang to my eyes. And then I jumped, propelling myself as hard as I could at her.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Two days after Christmas thick clouds threatened another storm. Icicles hung from eaves and snowmen stood sentry up and down the street.
Inside my parents’ home the family sat around the kitchen table, the makings of a leftover turkey dinner sitting on top of the counter and plates piled high on the table.
Mom and Dad sat across the table with John next to them. William and Dolly had pulled in extra chairs from the dining room and Michael stood, leaning against the kitchen sink. The kids happily played in the snow where Henry pummeled his sister in a fierce snowball fight. I, with my arm cut and badly bruised and now encased in a sling, sat with my sister on one side and my grandmother protectively on the other.
“‘Nothing is so exhilarating in life as to be shot at with no result,’” I said softly.
“Amen to that,” Sam agreed.
Meme made the sign of the cross with her right hand while keeping her left firmly on my arm.
I turned my head and looked at the group. “So it was sirens I heard.”
Mom reached across the table and patted my left hand. “Yes. And just in time.”
“I’ve been asleep all this time?”
“Just about.” Mom looked across the table at Samantha and Meme. “These two were by your side every second.”
I playfully gave Sam a punch in the arm and then winced.
“When the police pulled their car round back and turn on their lights there you were, straddling Monica. She was out cold. You looked like a wild woman who lived in the jungle.” Meme’s voice cracked and a tear escaped down her cheek. She pulled a tissue from the pocket of her dress and blew her nose.
I shook my head. “I knew I only had one chance and I had to take it. I tackled Monica. It hauled back and threw her several feet. Then I jumped on her. Having the upper hand didn’t last very long.” I shrugged and gave a partial eye-roll. “She’s really strong and with one quick flip, she had me on my back and tried to get the piece of wood.”
“’Why are you fighting me, Alex?’ she said. ‘You saw what I did to Elvira. She didn’t have a chance and neither do you.’ Spittle flew from her mouth—actually, it was more like she was foaming at the mouth.”
“Yuk,” my sister said.
“At that moment she looked like a wild, caged animal fighting for her life, but so was I and I know it sounds selfish but I thought I had a lot more to lose than Monica.” I looked at my family, all gathered around me and selfish or not, I did have more than Monica.
“Then what happened?” Meme asked, still holding onto my arm.
“I managed to bring my knee up to my chest, putting my foot right under her stomach area. I gathered all my strength in that one kick and lashed out with my good left arm at the same time. Monica flew backward.” I couldn’t help grimacing and Meme squeezed my arm. “Her head hit the wood pile. I scrambled on top of her and whacked her head with a piece of wood.”
I took a sip of my tea and used the moment it took to set the cup on the table, to gather myself. “For one brief second her eyes bore into mine. For that one moment I felt bad. But at the same time I knew she’d kill me if she got up… I got ready to hit her again…but then her head fell back onto the ground and her eyes closed.” I looked at John. His eyes held sympathy and concern. “Did I kill her?”
“No. She’s in the hospital. She’ll be okay,” John said.
“How did you know I went to Monica’s?” I asked of no one.
“Henry,” Sam said. “He wouldn’t tell us until I convinced him it was the one-hundred and fifty percent right thing to do.”
I looked out the window again. Henry stopped his assault on his sister for a split second. He looked up at the window and smiled at me, our eyes locking. He had saved my life.
“Alex,” Mr. Poupée said, bringing me back to the conversation, “I will never forgive myself for getting you involved. This is all my fault. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“Done. It’s not your fault. I walked into the lion’s den on my own. I knew better. I just didn’t think she would try to kill me, too. Stupid, I guess.”
“Well, I hope you two have learned your lesson.” This time Dolly Poupée gave out the admonishments, first to me and then to her husband. “Especially you, William.”
“What I don’t understand is what in God’s name made you go to her house?” Samantha asked not for the first time.
“The geography book. When I saw Redding, California, a few things clicked into place. Remember in Mr. Poupée’s office when Mr. Absher told us about his suspicions of Emmanuelle?” I asked John.
“Yeah.”
“Well, it all started at the annual sales meeting, a month ago. Monica told me she gave Mrs. Scott the printout six weeks before that. Mr. Absher hinted at the fact that Mrs. Scott seemed to suspect Emmanuelle of something even before he enlightened her with his own suspicions.”
“So you’re saying Monica set up Emmanuelle?” Mom asked.
“Yes. Or anyone actually, as long as it cast suspicion elsewhere. Another thing, Mrs. Scott bookmarked a college in Redding. She obviously saw the similarity to Irwin and found a p
icture of Monica on the Internet at some school she had attended. Monica planned to kill Mrs. Scott. Totally premeditated. And then there was the shorthand note. Once I figured out the Redding connection, could it be MS fell into place.”
Mom shook her head. “Could it be Monica Scott? How awful. I read in the paper she used her grandmother’s maiden name of Ballister.”
“She legally changed it a few years ago. She had this planned for a long time,” John said.
That sent a chill up my spine to think someone plotted to kill another for so long.
“I spent all of last night in the hospital interrogating her and she really is crazy.” John’s eyes locked with mine. I noticed small lines around his eyes, but something else, a real tenderness I hadn’t been sure about.
“She told me she planned on killing Mrs. Scott on Christmas but Mrs. Scott figured it out and then Monica overheard Mrs. Scott and Mr. Poupée planning to meet that night. That same day another bit of information fell into her lap by chance. Monica overheard Ruth phoning Emmanuelle. She knew, as most everyone did, that Emmanuelle worked at home at lot, and probably wouldn’t have a good alibi for the time of the killing.”
“One other thing, Monica is the person who broke into Mrs. Scott’s house. She wanted a picture of her father,” John added.
“Well, the murderer is caught, but what about the diamond smugglers?” Sam asked.
“Richard, Jerry, and Mr. Schwartz, right?” I looked toward John for conformation.
“Yes, that’s right.”
I squirmed in my chair, feeling uncomfortable on a whole lot of levels. I could’ve died yesterday. I could’ve died.
“Are you all right? Let’s go into the living room. It’s more comfortable,” Mom suggested.
We grabbed our drinks and sandwiches and went into the other room. Sam carried the platter with the turkey so she could pick off the rest of the meat.
“What about Emmanuelle—what happens to her?” Sam wanted to know.
“I haven’t made any decisions yet,” Mr. Poupée started, “but I don’t see any reason to fire her. She had nothing to do with the diamonds or the murder. She’s done a remarkable job for us. I believe everyone deserves a second chance. And with Richard gone, there’ll be an opening to fill. I’ll keep an eye on her, though, you can count on that.”
I fidgeted in my seat and, finally finding a comfortable position, asked, “And the museum job? Did you find out, Mr. Poupée, exactly what happened?”
“Well, Alex, you’re not the only one around here good at figuring things out. In all the excitement I forgot to tell you. I learned that the other firm is in Virginia. Seems Joanne gave them a copy of our proposal. Well, most of it, anyway. Mrs. Scott asked her to makes copies and she conveniently made a copy for herself. Mitch had an interview with this other firm at some point and Joanne went with him. She and the owner started an affair and he promised her a great job if she could help him get a copy of the proposal.”
“Joanne! Well, I’ll be. So she was just using Mitch.”
“In a way. She pumped him for information about the design but she planned to bring him along to the other firm once she got her new position,” Mr. Poupée said. “We’ve contacted the museum and the other firm has agreed to withdraw their bid in exchange for our not pressing charges. I told them definitely not. I plan to press charges next week and the museum wants nothing to do with them. I’m also pressing charges against Joanne.”
“I’ll bet her back problems were fake. She just used that as an excuse to fly down to Virginia and sell the plans, right?”
“That’s right.” Mr. Poupée stopped, took a deep breath and then continued. “I’ve been an old fool. I never looked around me. Joanne, Richard, Jerry. How could I have been so blind? And Elvira killed.” He shook his head while Dolly reached over and touched his face.
“Mr. Poupée,” I said, “You can’t take any blame for what happened to Mrs. Scott. You couldn’t have known about Monica. Mrs. Scott didn’t even know at first. And as for the other, maybe next time just don’t give your assistant so much responsibility that you lose contact with your employees. It’ll work out fine. I’ll make sure you get the right person for the job.”
Mr. Poupée smiled at me and Mom went to make more coffee.
*****
The afternoon light faded into night. Everyone, including Dad and Mom, discreetly left John and me alone. Meme gave me a thumbs-up before my mother dragged her back to the kitchen.
“Alone a last,” John settled next to me on the sofa. “Promise me you’ll never, never take off like that again?” He slipped his arm over the top of the sofa and touched my hair.
“That’s easy. Before Mrs. Scott, I think the only murder in Indian Cove took place about a hundred and fifty years ago. So I doubt I’ll be around for the next one.”
“From now on, just leave murder and mayhem to the police.”
“Yes sir!” I saluted with my left hand.
“Alex?”
“If you’re going to ask if you can kiss me, the answer is yes.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
I looked dejected. I didn’t know if we’d be able to get past this awkward stage. Had I gotten everything wrong? Was John just a good policeman concerned for a fellow citizen?
He leaned close to my face and brushed his hand along my cheek. “I wanted to ask if you’re free New Year’s Eve.”
Contents
Title page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE