Too many steps.
The figure advanced. I rose to my feet. Dangerous as trying to get out the window was, waiting around to be attacked promised to be more dangerous.
Wait—where was my pepper spray? I cast about to remember when I’d last had it. It was probably in the jeans I’d worn today, which were now crammed into my overflowing laundry basket in the bathroom.
So much for that option.
Suddenly, the man gave an “Oof!” and thudded to the floor. It sounded like he had tripped over something, which was odd, because there was no furniture between the door and the bed. It was a conveniently straight shot.
I didn’t hesitate, but turned and opened the window. I shoved the screen up and scooted out, just as I heard someone scrambling toward me again.
Now what?
I took off running up my driveway, in the general direction of the Security booth. I prayed Val was still there, but as the booth came into view, I could tell it was dark.
On top of that, the gates were closed—most likely locked.
I had no other option but to head for the main house. As I plunged into the dark lawn, I slowed, trying to recall where trees were located so I could avoid them.
As I approached the manor house, the outdoor lamps began to illuminate dark tree trunks, so I picked up speed. By the time I reached the front door, I was winded. I jammed at the doorbell repeatedly, trying to catch my breath. Had Mrs. Lewis been around, she would’ve been completely appalled.
A half-asleep Melly finally cracked the door. “Yes? Who’s that?” She wiped at her eyes, letting her incredulous gaze rove over me.
I glanced down, realizing I was wearing my reindeer PJs and my hair was doubtless a tousled mess. “It’s me, Belinda! Someone’s in my house! We have to call the cops!”
Melly peered into the darkness behind me as if trying to ascertain the truth of my story.
“He might be following me!” I shook her shoulders, trying to wake her up. “Let me in!”
Melly slowly stepped aside and let me in, locking the door behind me. She tried to focus, but I suspected she’d taken some kind of sleeping aid. “Tell me again what’s going on?” she asked.
“Melly, we need to call the police. Right now.”
The petite woman headed straight for the kitchen. That was good. I guessed Lani had already gone home, but at least the kitchen was safe and bright. And it probably had a phone.
Melly gave a prolonged yawn as she flipped on the kitchen lights, flooding the room with an unnaturally bright glow. She glanced around, bewildered. “Now, where does Lani keep that phone again?”
A quick scan revealed it wasn’t sitting on a counter, so I raced around throwing drawers and closet doors open. As I did so, I recalled the voice I’d heard in my carriage house bedroom. Was he who I thought he was? But why on earth would he break into my house?
It didn’t matter why. Anyone who broke into someone’s house at three in the morning had nefarious intent, unless they happened to be a relative or a close friend.
And he was neither.
Melly trailed around like a slug, a dramatic change from her well-organized, level-headed persona. She must have taken some strong meds tonight.
“Where’s your husband?” I asked, wondering if she had any clue.
“I...don’t know. He went to bed early, I think.”
I slammed a drawer shut. “But you don’t know?”
She shook her head just as a click sounded at the kitchen’s Dutch door. I whirled around, and the heavy red door swung open.
Jacques strode inside, key ring in hand. “Everything okay in here? I saw lights and heard voices.”
I shook my head, incapable of believing this kindly French voice matched the one I’d heard in my carriage house.
But it did.
“Run!” I shouted to Melly. “He’s the one who broke into my house! Go get your cell phone!”
Melly gave me a blank stare of disbelief. She didn’t even budge.
Jacques continued to move my way. The knives were too far away from me, but I grabbed the first thing I could.
A metal colander. Brilliant.
I edged closer to Melly, who was positioned closest to the hallway door. “Get out,” I hissed at her.
Jacques came to an abrupt halt about three feet in front of me. What was he waiting for? I knew he was going to turn me into a victim, like the other women he’d attacked. I raised the colander, trying to shoot daggers at him with my eyes.
To my absolute horror, Melly began to laugh. It was literally an evil laugh, like an animated villain. Her gaze narrowed and her lips twisted up. When she spoke, it became obvious she was both one hundred percent lucid and one hundred percent deadly.
“You really didn’t know, Belinda? You’re kidding me. We were quite sure old Esther Lewis had squealed on Jacques when she croaked her parting words to you.”
Chapter 32
An electric charge seemed to shoot through my body. Surely these two weren’t working together. Surely this was a huge misunderstanding. Digging deep to find my voice, I finally managed, “Mrs. Lewis told me something wasn’t working. I think she meant she wasn’t able to fight off her attacker.”
Jacques gave Melly a thoughtful look.
Melly snapped her fingers. “Of course. She meant you, Jacques. You were the one who wasn’t working. She knew you weren’t scheduled to work the day Margo was attacked. But she must have noticed you or your car that night, when you came over after I called you.”
Jacques looked irritated. “I thought I’d parked where no one could see me, but there is one angle from that side parking lot that gives a view of the back of the carriage house. Esther Lewis must’ve parked in a spot that gave her a glimpse of my car that night.”
Melly sighed as if terribly inconvenienced. “It was only a matter of time until she realized what she saw and tried to blackmail me again. She’d already seen my son chasing Margo outside—probably in some drunken, lovesick gesture—and she wouldn’t have hesitated to tell the police about it if I hadn’t agreed to pay her. It was good we got her out of the way, Jacques.” Melly’s gaze swung back to me. “And you’ve certainly been a busy little bee, haven’t you, Belinda? Buzzing around, trying to put all the pieces together? You didn’t back off like you should have when we gave you that warning note. Then you interrupted Jacques’s attack on Mrs. Lewis, and we knew she’d said something to you—something you might figure out.”
“Poor Esther,” Jacques said, but his tone was jubilant.
“The hospital called me just before you came, Belinda,” Melly said, pulling a faux sad face. “Sadly, Esther Lewis just slipped from our world.”
I gripped the metal handles on the colander until they dug into my hands, trying to force myself to acknowledge what was playing out in front of me. Melly had given Jacques orders to kill people. And Jacques had carried those orders out.
“But...what about your son?” I asked, unable to understand how any mother could be so heartless. “Why would you plant his hair on Frannie, knowing it could send him to prison?”
Melly’s smile wavered and she shot an accusatory glance at Jacques. “That was a mistake,” she said. “Stone had borrowed his father’s new hairbrush. Jacques went into my husband’s bathroom and took the wrong hair sample.”
Comprehension swept over me. Melly had tried to frame her husband, only it had backfired.
Noting my stunned look, she ranted on. “As you might have guessed, my husband isn’t the brightest. He thought he could have an affair with that...floozy...and I wouldn’t find out. I had guessed about my husband’s relationship, then I found a text he’d sent her, insinuating he was going to be a father again. My husband even gave her a ruby necklace from Chopard and he thought I wouldn’t notice. Can you imagine—as if I’m not fully informed on our bank accounts
at all times? I suppose it doesn’t matter, because I got it back in the end.”
It was the ruby necklace she’d worn yesterday—the necklace in my dream. Stone the fourth must not have seen it on her.
Jacques huffed impatiently. “Her husband’s an idiot.”
I wished he’d back up or sit down. Instead, he seemed to have inched closer.
“But he’s a rich idiot, dear.” Melly smiled at Jacques. “See, Jacques understands. He’s always understood me, from the time we were young. It only made sense for me to hire him as groundskeeper. I needed someone close who could protect me.”
Jacques’s eyes darkened. Hatred simmered in his voice, the hatred of a man who had long ago been spurned by the woman he loved. “Stone’s a drunk, too.”
Was Jacques completely oblivious to the fact that Melly had used him all this time? She’d married for money, leaving her old French friend in the dust until she’d wanted him to do her dirty work. Couldn’t he see he was going to be the patsy for her, since he was the one who had killed three women?
I tried to wake him up. “That doesn’t justify murder. Margo and Frannie were so young. They had their whole lives in front of them. And now Mrs. Lewis is dead, too. You have to tell the police about Melly’s involvement, Jacques.”
Jacques took two quick steps forward. I started to run, but he slipped behind me, wrapping a strong arm around my neck. I jabbed the colander backward, hoping to jam the prongs into his stomach, but the metal bowl was too large and unwieldy.
His arm tightened. I flailed at him and squirmed, but couldn’t extricate myself. I tried biting his forearm, but I couldn’t force my chin down against the strength of his grasp.
“Enough talking,” Jacques said. “You escaped from me once tonight, thanks to your enormous snake, but not this time.”
What was he talking about? What did Rasputin have to do with anything?
Jacques spoke calmly as he pulled his arm back. I kicked at him, but he had already clamped a hand around each side of my neck. “Melly, you probably won’t want to see this. I’ll dispose of her and we’ll talk in the morning.”
Melly nodded and walked into the side hallway. In a practiced move, Jacques locked his fingers together and began to choke me.
I tried to scream, but nothing came out. In a last-ditch effort, I gathered all my strength and hurled the colander to the hard tiles on the floor. It gave a satisfyingly loud bang, then bounced to a stop.
“You should not have done that,” Jacques said. He spoke rapidly, his French accent growing stronger with every word. “I owe Melly everything. When my parents came to this country, she was the only one who would talk to me.” He squeezed tighter. “Once her idiot husband is out of the picture...”
His words faded out and things were growing dim. I gave one final kick toward his knee, but my strength was so depleted, it didn’t make contact.
Suddenly, there was a muffled cracking sound, and Jacques’s hands fell from my neck. He thudded onto the floor behind me.
I took several shuddering breaths, then locked eyes with my rescuer.
Stone the fourth gripped the handle of a wide, cast iron pan. His thin hands were shaking, but his eyes weren’t the least bit bloodshot. Instead, they seemed lit by a righteous fire.
He kicked at the prone body of Jacques. “Who’s the idiot now?” he asked.
* * * *
Stone the fourth didn’t waste any time. He raced into the hallway to make calls—on a phone we’d probably walked right past before Melly had trapped me in the kitchen.
When Stone returned, he dug twine out of a drawer and tied Jacques’s hands and feet. He dragged Jacques, who seemed unconscious, to the pantry, shoving him in like a sack of potatoes. After pulling the pantry door shut, Stone turned back to me, full of newfound determination. “I’m going to get Melly. I’ve called Val and he’ll be here any minute for you, and the police and ambulance are on their way.”
“But what if she has—” I couldn’t finish my question, because Stone had already rushed out the kitchen door. I worried Melly might own a gun, but Stone would know if that was the case and would presumably tread carefully.
Too weak to help him, I lurched across the kitchen, grabbing a long knife from the butcher block so I could watch for any movement from the pantry. I sank into a kitchen chair, my eyes unable to focus. My ears were ringing, too. I couldn’t seem to breathe deeply enough.
Val rushed in the Dutch door, apologizing profusely. He’d taken a break to get some coffee from the gas station nearby, and he’d gotten to talking to the cashier, he said. That explained his absence in the Security booth when I’d run past.
“In the...pantry,” I said, coughing out the last word. My voice seemed to be fading and I felt lightheaded.
Val’s brow crinkled, then he strode over and glanced into the pantry. He turned, slamming the door behind him. “Jacques did this?” he asked, motioning to my neck.
Although Stone the fourth might have mentioned my near-strangulation experience to Val, from the way the security guard was gaping at me, I was sure the redness and bruising was now abundantly evident. I couldn’t bring myself to answer, because the corners of my vision were going black.
Val caught me as I slipped from my chair to the floor, and then I was out.
Chapter 33
I woke to the regular beeps of a heart monitor. An IV was threaded into my hand, and someone hovered nearby.
I tried to turn to see who was there, but everything hurt from my chest up. “Who?” was all I could wheeze.
Someone’s soft hand patted mine, and a woman soothed, “Save your breath. It’s me, Ava. I came the moment I heard. Detective Watson called me. They’ve taken Melly in to the police station, and Jacques is in the hospital for now, but he’s already under arrest.”
“And Stone?” I asked.
Ava sounded slightly confused. “He’s still at home, more sober than he’s been for years. He can’t believe Melly did this to him.”
“Fifth,” I clarified.
“Oh! Stone the fifth has gotten out of jail, I believe. He should be getting home soon. Don’t worry about him. If I know Lani, she’s already cooking him up a breakfast buffet that could feed an army. She’s been so upset over his arrest.”
I was reminded of Stone’s own mother, who also seemed to be upset by his arrest, but mostly because her own plan to frame her husband had gone horribly awry. I wondered what kind of prison time an instigator like Melly would have to serve compared to Jacques, who had done the actual killings.
“Jacques?” I asked.
Ava gave my arm a light squeeze. I still couldn’t turn to see her face, but I felt her tear hit my hand. “I hope he dies.” Her voice grew stronger, charged by mother-fury. “He took my baby girl’s life, and my grandchild’s.”
I saw a shadow in the doorway, and Adam Fenton walked directly in front of my hospital bed, where I could see him. “There’s someone here to speak with you,” he said, uncertain. Leaning in, he added, “If you want, I can tell him to leave. It’s Stone the fifth.”
* * * *
Stone must have come straight to the hospital, because his clothes and hair were rumpled. He looked pale as he approached the end of my bed. Ava had straightened my hospital gown, but it couldn’t hide the hideous mess that was my neck. It felt like it had swollen to twice its normal size.
Probably sensing my hesitance, Ava stayed by my bedside. Although I finally knew beyond a doubt that Stone the fifth was innocent, I felt raw and exposed, unable to think clearly.
“It’s been terrible for you,” Stone started.
“And you,” I said.
He frowned and leaned in closer, directly over my feet. Adam must’ve told him I couldn’t look to the sides very well. “No one tried to strangle me.”
“Not...your fault,” I strained to say.
>
He winced. “In a way, it was. It happened in our house, and my own mother...” His voice trailed off, disbelieving.
We sat in silence until he finally spoke again. “Anyway, I came straight here because I had to see you. I know you can’t talk now. Detective Watson has pieced things together fairly well at this point, given what Dad told him. I’m sure he’ll be talking to you eventually, but right now, you need to take your time and get well. That was way too close a call.”
I tried to offer a reassuring smile, but my lips were too cracked. “We caught him, though.”
Stone moved up to my side, positioning his face squarely in front of me. He dropped his lips to my forehead and pressed it with a solemn kiss. “It wasn’t worth the risk, Belinda.”
It probably wasn’t. But things had worked out. I was alive, Stone the fifth was out of jail, and the real murderer was heading to prison. I wondered if Melly would be going there, too. There were so many questions I needed to work through, and I was sure Stone did, too.
“What happened to Frannie?” I asked.
Stone’s brow furrowed. “Detective Watson thinks she probably searched our house on Thanksgiving Day and saw something linking Mom to Margo’s death. She must have approached Mom at some point and mentioned her hunch. Although Mom never left the house, she did call Jacques on that day to turn off the fountain and to check on your carriage house. It would’ve been easy enough for him to grab Frannie, strangle her, and dump her behind your place. No one else was around.”
Lights blinked in my vision and I reached for Stone’s hand. “Need...sleep,” I said.
“Of course. This has been too much for you. I need to get home.” His jaw clenched. “Dad and I have a lot to talk about.”
I wondered if Stone the fifth would be giving his dad a well-timed push for sobriety. It was sad, but maybe watching his wife go off the rails was just the wake-up call Stone the fourth needed. Margo’s death had certainly inspired the younger Stone to sober up.
Belinda Blake and the Snake in the Grass Page 18