Vitamin Sea

by Maia Ross

I couldn’t see both of her hands, and I was worried about that tranq gun. She’d managed somehow to stick a dart in Camille, and I really didn’t feel like being the next one with a hole in my neck. “Let’s call the police, April, and let them sort everything out.”

  “Did you know Emily poisoned her last employer?”

  “I told you that in therapy!” Emily/Edwina shrieked. “You’re a freaking psychiatrist! What is wrong with you? And I was accused of doing it. I didn’t do it. I didn’t,” she said to me, her eyes the size of frisbees.

  “Let’s call the police, April,” I said, wondering how much information she’d pumped out of Emily/Edwina and her other patients over the years.

  “I didn’t do it!” Emily/Edwina wailed.

  “Nah,” April said. And that’s when I saw the gun. It was a Saturday Night Special, a .32 revolver. She must have ditched the firearm she used to shoot Jake Tapper. “I’m going to ask you nicely to put your gun on the table, Irma.”

  Bloody hell. “Of course. Perhaps you could do the same?” I placed my gun on the edge of the table, hoping April would leave it there.

  She did not. Training her weapon on me, she came forward and pocketed Vera. I was sad to see her go, but not worried that April was going to shoot me with my own gun. Unless she’d suddenly acquired my fingerprints, it would be useless to her.

  As April walked backwards to the head of the table, she bashed Emily/Edwina on the back of the head. She slumped forward in her chair. Then April stepped behind Richard and put the gun to his head. Richard looked like he was drugged, but he seemed to be trying to rouse himself.

  April licked her lips. “I’m afraid of you, Irma. I feel like my safety is at risk with you here. You’re a dangerous woman; everyone knows it. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but don’t come any closer.” She continued almost conversationally, “You can say whatever you want, but here’s the real story. Edwina poisoned Charlotte. She’s been having an affair with Richard, who’s pumping her full of his terrible drugs. She’d do anything for him.”

  “Whose gun is that?” I asked April.

  “Edwina’s.”

  “Of course it is,” I said soothingly. “Let’s call the police and get Edwina locked up. It’s for the best.”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  I stepped closer. “Of course not. But how did Richard get down here?”

  “He…” She looked around, pressed the side of the gun to his forehead. “He was already here.”

  “Sure you didn’t help him along a bit? You were in his study drinking a black velvet. Your DNA will be all over the glass. And when he wakes up, he’ll confirm it.” I left off any mention of Camille being shot with a tranq gun. I didn’t know where it was, and I didn’t want to give April any big ideas.

  “Will he, though?” she asked. “Wake up, I mean.”

  I blinked. “Why, April? Why would you do such a thing?”

  “It’s not my fault,” she said, her nostrils quivering. “This family ruined my life. This family has ruined everyone’s lives!”

  “Your life is not ruined.”

  She snorted. “Sure it is. Listening to patient after patient talking about how they couldn’t stop taking those terrible pills, day after day after day. It gets to you, you know? And nothing’s going to happen to the Van Oots. You know that.” She’d grown a little wild-eyed. And she was gesturing with her hands a lot. And one of those hands was holding the gun. “Aren’t you supposed to be the great upholder of justice, Irma? Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to find the bad guys? Because this—” she lifted Richard’s head before dropping it again, “—is a very bad guy.”

  “You’re right, of course. He’s despicable. Let’s call the police and—”

  “Well, now you’ve gone and ruined everything, so thank you very much, Irma! Instead of Richard, you want to blame me for all this. Me! All I’ve ever wanted to do was help people! People who’ve never hurt anyone in their entire lives.”

  “Neither has Charlotte, dear.”

  “Charlotte is the worst one of all!” April swung the gun around and pointed it at my head. Normally I was happy when a gunman focused on me instead of a civilian, but I had no intention of taking a bullet for Richard. Seriously.

  “Why is she the worst one?”

  “You know! Don’t act like you don’t know!” The gun wavered. I tilted my head, trying to see if the gun was cocked.

  The sudden noise was loud and echoed in the underground room. It was cocked.

  “I don’t, April. Dr. Van Oot.” I took one step closer.

  “She’s the worst one of all! Look at this room! More wine than anyone could ever drink in ten lifetimes. Some of the bottles cost, what, hundreds of dollars? Thousands? Look at what these people have! And all of it bought with blood money. Money they made from killing my husband, James! Charlotte gets to go to fancy parties—hell, she gets to throw fancy parties—where everyone is nice and polite and friendly to her. No one is angry with her for what OotCo has done. No one has filed suit against Charlotte, and they never will. They’re all looking at Richard. But Charlotte gets to have everything! Everything! With no risk whatsoever. So you tell me, Irma, is that fair?”

  “It’s very upsetting,” I said quietly. “How did they kill James?”

  “The night of his death, his back was bothering him, he took a few of their terrible pills, he went for a drive and,” she laughed crazily, “then he was gone.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. For a minute, I wondered if she was really as mad as a box of frogs, or if she was trying to lay the groundwork for an insanity defence.

  “And you know what else? You know who came into my office a few months ago? Right after James’s death? One of the Van Oot cousins. Some twenty-year-old idiot who came to see me because she’s stressed out about all the negative press about the Van Oot family. Everyone knows their name now. And do you know what she said to me?”

  “Tell me.” I took a step closer. Was I close enough? And were my hands…sweaty?

  “She said: What do I need to do so people will be nice to me at cocktail parties again? That was all she cared about. Can you even believe it?”

  “No,” I said, even though I could. I took one step closer. My hands were sweaty, which was a bother. I’d never had that particular problem before. “It’s deplorable. And unconscionable. So that’s why you hired a local nerd to write a hack for the IV stands used at the clinic. You knew Charlotte gets monthly infusions for her AS. You probably uploaded it when you were at the clinic visiting your patients. Maybe even Charlotte. It’s brilliant, really. You should be proud.”

  She gave me a withering glare. “Don't be ridiculous.”

  “You really declared war on the Van Oot family, didn’t you? Robbing Renée’s to harm them generally and Scooter specifically. You called in the bomb threat and tried to shoot Charlotte, not to mention your poisoning attempt. And you killed Jake Tapper to cover your tracks. Shot him in cold blood.”

  She said nothing, but her mouth twisted up in a lopsided grin of acknowledgement. It wouldn’t hold up in a court, of course. I still needed a confession.

  But then she tensed. “Who’s out there? Show yourself or the old lady gets it!” The gun trembled in her hand, aimed at the doorway. I froze.

  “Which old lady?” Charlotte said from behind me.

  “Oh, bloody hell,” I said. Charlotte was standing in the doorway, Violet beside her. Charlotte looked like the quintessential flapper, her hair perfect, her ensemble historically correct. Violet, in black sweats, looked like a ghoul. I tried to stop gritting my teeth.

  “He-hey, Irma,” Violet said, her hand raised in an awkward greeting.

  “It’s all over, April,” I said, trying to stay calm, while my heartbeat clanged in my chest. I’d tried to extract Violet from her room a million times during her visit and now she decided to be adventurous? This was a disaster. If April’d been a pro, I might have been able to anticipate her next actions. But tryi
ng to determine what a civilian was going to do was lunacy. I took a deep breath, then another. “Violet has notified the security team what’s happening, and they’re on their way. They’ll be here any minute,” I bluffed.

  “You can’t prove anything!” April shrieked.

  There was a sigh behind me. Then Violet spoke again. “Actually, we can.”

  The gun moved away from me and pointed at Violet. I did not enjoy the feeling that ran through me when I saw that. “What are you talking about? I don’t even know you!” April said.

  “Well, Jake knew you,” Violet said reasonably. “And I didn’t know Jake, but I know his type. Nerdy guy, right? Can I sit? I’m not feeling so hot.” She pulled a chair up at the table and eased herself into it. Charlotte joined her. “You know what geeks like? Irma, you’ll find this interesting. They like backups and redundancy. If they don’t have it, they get paged at three in the morning on Christmas Eve to fix a problem. Or when they’re in the middle of having…uh…relations with their uh…significant other. Nobody likes that, I promise you.”

  “What are you talking about, you idiot?” April snarled, the revolver trembling in her hand.

  I inched closer so I could be in a better position for what I was planning. Sweat was gathering at the back of my neck.

  “And he had backups, April. Lots of them. Pictures and documents and voice recordings. He taped you every time you met, or spoke, actually. You told him that the IV hack was for a test you were running for Medicil—I guess you used to work there?—but when he realized it was used on Scooter, he panicked. I think I would have liked this guy, Irma, to be honest.”

  I was heartened that she was taking the whole gun pointing at her situation so well.

  April took Richard’s head and bonked it on the table in frustration. Was it wrong that I enjoyed the noise it made this time too? Probably not. Mother had always told me there was no sin in enjoying one’s work.

  “Give them to me!” April screamed, taking one, then two steps forward.

  “I can’t,” Violet said simply.

  “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  “I uploaded everything to a server farm in Chechnya. Care of a good buddy of mine. It’s been copied hundreds of times by now. You’ll never get that genie back in the bottle.”

  “Good girl,” I breathed, warmth surging in my chest. I took a few quick breaths to get ready.

  April looked wildly at Violet. “Shut up, shut up! I had no choice! They were killing people. Killing them!” Then she pointed the gun at me.

  But I knew something she didn’t. So I took a running leap onto one of the heavy chairs, then the table. April pulled the trigger. The bullet thudded into my chest.

  And suddenly I had no breath at all.

  “Irma!” Violet screamed. I heard a chair being pushed back, falling over.

  I landed on April, but she wriggled away from me. My chest was on fire. But she’d let go of the gun and it was still under me. Amateur.

  I breathed in huge, sucking gasps.

  April kicked at me. She wanted that gun back. And who could blame her?

  But after I found my breath I swept her legs out from under her and punched at her larynx, even though the little twerp jerked away from me and scuttled to her feet just as I kicked her left kneecap. The crunch was satisfying, but April wasn’t out yet. My nerves felt rattled. If I couldn’t get her down in a minute or two, I was going to stab her in the eyeball with my shoe-blade.

  She raised her hand and slammed it down, aiming for my head.

  “No, thank you,” I said, throwing another punch at her throat. The first one hadn’t quite connected, which was a bother. But I got her this time.

  She choked, her hands on her throat. But then she rallied and threw her purse at me. It hit me on the left side of my forehead. It was surprisingly heavy. I could see that my recent self-defence class, Using Everyday Items in Your Environment as Defensive Weapons, had made an impact on her. I felt both proud and irritated.

  Then April fell straight backwards, hitting her head on the polished concrete floor. Not being able to breathe will do that to you, although I tried not to feel smug about it; my chest was killing me. And on my left shoulder, the stitches Angelique had sewn the other day had popped. Bother.

  I looked at the lump April made on the ground. I nudged her with my foot. When she didn’t move, I checked her pulse—still alive—and searched her for the tranq gun. It was a small gizmo strapped to the inside of her left wrist. It was ingenious. And empty. I was tempted to take it with me. I mean, who doesn’t like doodads like that? Alas, it was part of the evidence we’d been looking so hard for.

  Violet rushed to my side. “Irma, are you all right?”

  “Huh? Oh, yes, dear. I’m fine.”

  “But where are you hit? Are you okay?”

  “I’m right as rain.”

  “She shot you! Like, with a gun!”

  I pulled one of my cap sleeves over so she could see the body armour that covered my chest. “A girl’s best accessory, dear.” I looked at her, put my arm around her shoulder. She looked exhausted. “We’re all done here, I believe. Let’s call the police and get a bloody drink.”

  “Amen to that, sister.”

  Thirty-Eight—Irma

  “I will not have my reputation besmirched in this manner!” Richard ranted. I was mildly impressed he could cough up a word like that after being sedated for so long, but I kept the thought to myself.

  The doors to the back terrace had been closed to keep the fundraising revellers out, but a few intrepid looky-loos were recording Richard on their phones. I tried to keep out of frame. The enormous grin on my face would not have been dignified.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” Richard said. Charlotte was standing beside me, her hand on my arm. She was trembling.

  “All I’m asking is that you join us down at the station, so we can chat with you about a few things. You don’t have anything to hide, do you?” Officer Matty Parker said.

  “That’s preposterous! I will do no such thing. I’ve done nothing wrong. Charlotte, tell them.”

  But Charlotte was silent. I put my hand on hers. Her fingers were cold, but mine weren’t, and soon my warmth would pass into her.

  Sweat was gathering around Richard’s hairline and he was turning a funny colour as he snarled out his words. “So help me, Charlotte, if you don’t say something, I will kill you. Do you hear me, Charlotte?”

  Matty cleared his throat. “Now, Mr. Van Oot, we’re not going to tolerate any of that kind of talk.”

  Richard pushed past Matty and stalked toward Charlotte. “I will snap your neck like it’s a twig, Charlotte! I will do it!”

  Matty reached out and took hold of Richard’s sleeve. “Richard Van Oot, you are under arrest for uttering a death threat.” Then he snapped a nice pair of shiny handcuffs on Richard, and the noise sounded like music in the great hallway of Grey Gables. “And you and I are going to have a nice long chat about the armed robbery at Renée’s. And your recent insurance exploits.” He read Richard his rights with a sharp undertone to his words. Matty always was a good egg.

  The Pickle’s head tilted, and a sense of satisfaction moved into her eyes. Then she did one of the most surprising things of the evening: she smiled at me. I pressed my lips together for a moment before grinning back at her.

  “I had nothing to do with the robbery at Renée’s!” Richard protested.

  In a flash, Matty had Richard pointed in the direction of the front door, the same one a similarly-handcuffed April and Emily/Edwina had just been escorted through. Richard caught Charlotte’s eye just before he turned to go. There was a long moment where the two of them looked at each other before a slow, delicious smile spread over Charlotte’s face. And then she winked at him.

  Julian showed up long enough to examine my shoulder and slap a bandage on it before he spirited Violet away. She was giddy with our success and the fundraiser was still on. The kitchen was going to ser
ve them a late dinner, they were young, and the night was theirs.

  Camille had been taken to the clinic for observation, still unconscious. I’d lost track of Boris, but he was still here somewhere. I’d go find him in a bit.

  The police settled me and Charlotte in one of the small sitting rooms on the main floor. The kitchen organized some tea with a splash of bourbon and we made ourselves comfortable.

  A deep sense of satisfaction was moving into my core. I felt the adrenaline that had been running through me for the past few hours start to seep away, endorphins coming to replace it. I did so love thwarting bad guys and saving the world. And this room was one of my very favourite places. Charlotte and I used to sit here in front of the fire and play cards, with tea, of course, when she was taking care of me when I was little. She was fifteen years older than I, and I’d always looked up to her. In fact, Charlotte was the one who broke the news to me that my mother was dead, in this same room, in a voice so very kind and careful. If anyone else had told me I don’t know if I would have ever recovered from it.

  For a minute I wished there was a fire in the fireplace. Maybe things would be all right if there was a fire.

  Then I put my head back and looked at the ceiling. My goal had been to get evidence, and now we had it. My goal had been to protect Charlotte and so I had. But I wasn’t the only one: Charlotte had been protecting herself the whole time.

  I wished I hadn’t seen her wink at Richard.

  She let out a deep sigh, and her phone rang, the noise startling in the quiet room. “Hello,” she said. And as she talked, a beautiful smile broke over her face. “Scooter is awake!”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding for the past week.

  “And talking! They think he’s going to be okay!”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  She chatted to the doctor for a few minutes longer, then clicked off the call. Another sigh loosened itself out of her. “Thank heavens,” she said. “He’s safe now.”

  “I’m so happy for you, Charlotte.”

  She clinked her teacup with mine and looked into the empty fireplace. She looked twenty years younger. Happy. Unburdened.