by Gale Deitch
He turned onto his back, hands covering his face. Then, slowly, he rolled onto his stomach, lifted his head and sneered at me. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth as a tooth clinked onto the ceramic floor. I congratulated myself for only a moment before I saw the murderous rage in his eyes as he started toward me again.
“You are a dead woman, you fat tub of lard.”
I should have been terrified, but his name-calling only fueled the fire in my belly and fed my resolve. I hung onto the cabinet handle and eased myself away from him, scanning the room desperately for some type of weapon.
As Steven crawled in front of the dishwasher, he lifted his head to leer at me. I saw another opportunity. The last time I’d loaded the dishwasher I hadn’t completely closed it. I raised my feet and, latching my toes around the rubber gasket on the side of the door, shoved it down as hard as I could on his head. He dropped to the floor, face first.
I didn’t wait to see if I’d knocked him unconscious. I just hoped I had time to make my escape. I lifted my hands to detach my scarf from the cabinet door handle, rolled onto my stomach and inched my body backwards past the refrigerator. I trembled to think of Steven attempting to stuff me in there for a slow, cold death.
In my narrow kitchen, I edged past him, pushing against the floor with my bound hands to back out of the room. My heart pounded against the floor so hard that I wondered if he could feel the vibration.
I inhaled a silent, ragged breath and when I had almost reached the exit to the kitchen, Steven, with a great roar, suddenly shot to his feet, rolled me onto my back and pounced on top of me. He put his hands around my neck and began to squeeze, his thumbs cutting off my air passage.
“You’re not going anywhere, bitch. You’re history.”
I struggled beneath him, trying to push him off with my legs and knees. He wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t breathe. I attempted to inhale through my nose, my only available channel to life. Nothing.
In silence, I cried. I cried for Daniel, maybe my one chance for love and happiness. I cried for Mr. Schwartz and for the college girl I’d never met and even for the general manager who’d run off with Ally’s profits. He deserved punishment for his crime, but not the cold, dark death he’d endured.
Steven squeezed harder. Colored lights blinked in the blackness that engulfed me, a sure sign I was losing consciousness. There was nothing I could do but cry for myself.
“Trudie. Trudie.” The voice sounded muffled and distant. “I’m here, Trudie.”
Daniel? Was I dead already and joining him in the hereafter?
I heard banging and more banging and then a loud crash, wood shattering. Steven was off me. Suddenly I could breathe and was writhing on the floor trying to intake air through my nose and coughing with the gag in my mouth. I opened my eyes and there was Daniel, standing over me in the doorway.
“Trudie,” Daniel said, kneeling down to me. “Are you all right?”
Daniel was alive. And he had come for me. I felt the tears well.
He had a deep cut at his temple, and his face was bruised and bloody. His blue blazer was stained and torn at the seams, and his tattered shirt hung half in, half out of his khakis, which were blackened at the knees.
Then I gasped. Steven, who must have hidden himself in another room, stood right behind Daniel, ready to attack. When I spotted him, Steven smiled at me and put his finger to his lips, as if we were throwing a surprise party.
What was wrong with Daniel? A police detective should know how to enter a crime scene. He had completely ignored standard police procedures to get to me. I made my eyes as big as I could and shifted them back and forth between Daniel and Steven. I shook my head and then nodded toward Steven. Just as Daniel finally got the message and started to turn, Steven hit him over the head with a half-empty bottle of Merlot.
Daniel collapsed. Shards of glass and the burgundy liquid splattered everywhere.
“Well, well, well. The boyfriend lives. Sloppy of me, wasn’t it?”
Steven stooped down in between Daniel and me and rummaged under Daniel’s jacket. “Well what have we got here?” he said, struggling to retrieve the gun from its holster. When he finally wrestled it out and held it up in front of him, I knew from the police shows I watch that it was a semiautomatic. Of course, that’s what all cops carry.
“How convenient,” he said, glancing at me and grinning again. “I can take care of both of you.”
Still kneeling, Steven studied the gun in his hands and stroked it, almost reverently. He examined the pistol as if trying to figure out how it worked and then, lowering his hands, aimed the gun directly at Daniel’s head. I groaned, the only sound I could make, and squeezed my eyes shut as his index finger pulled the trigger.
I waited. Nothing. Not a sound.
I opened my eyes. Steven tried again to pull the trigger, but nothing happened. Obviously, he knew nothing about guns, or at least about semiautomatics. I realized that Daniel kept his pistol decocked in its holster. But it would only be a matter of moments before Steven figured out what to do to make it fire.
No. I would not let him do this. A few minutes ago, I thought I’d lost Daniel. But now that I knew he was alive, I wasn’t going to let Steven take him, and my chance at happiness, away from me. Steven was still stooped next to Daniel, his back so close, almost touching me.
I saw that he’d figured it out, his thumb on the lever, about to cock the pistol.
He pulled the lever back with his thumb then slowly moved his arm down, aiming the gun at Daniel’s head.
I scanned the kitchen wildly, searching for anything I could find to save us. Then I spotted my weapon.
To my right, the dishwasher stood open, the utensil rack within my grasp. With both hands still bound, I lifted them up and over the rack and slid them snugly around the handle of my Santoku. Knowing I had to be quick, I extracted the knife. Then, pushing my elbow against the dishwasher door with all my strength, I rolled myself over and plunged the blade deep into Steven’s back.
As if in slow motion, Steven arched his back away from me, throwing his shoulders back as his body went rigid. A stream of blood trickled down the back of his shirt, the rivulet widening across the fabric. As he slumped to the floor, the gun fired with an ear-splitting blast that echoed through the room and caused my ears to ring.
Oh no, I thought. I was too late.
I heard the pounding of footsteps in my apartment, and as uniformed police thundered into my kitchen, guns drawn, everything went black.
I opened my eyes to a bruised, bloody and wine-stained Daniel pulling the gag out of my mouth. “You’re alive,” I croaked from my parched throat. Then, “I’m alive.” I grinned.
“Apparently, you saved both our lives,” said Daniel, untying my hands and feet. “With the proverbial ‘both hands tied’. Trudie, I totally underestimated you. I guess all those TV cop shows were worth watching after all.”
He kissed my wrists where they had been bound and then my mouth. “I was sure I’d be too late,” he whispered, his eyes moist.
I giggled, releasing a dribble of tension. “Maybe those shows helped a little. But Steven never should have messed with me in my kitchen.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Seated beside Daniel on my sofa, I watched as Steven was transported out on a stretcher, EMTs and police officers walking alongside.
I began to cry.
Daniel put his arm around me. “What?”
“I’m relieved that Bradley is alive. If I’d have killed him…I don’t know if I could have lived with that. He’s young and has his whole life ahead of him.” I dabbed at my eyes with the wadded-up tissue I’d been holding for the last hour.
Daniel lifted my chin and glared into my eyes. “That’s Steven, remember? Bradley doesn’t exist. And he’s probably going to be behind bars for that whole life you’re so worried about.”
“I know. But I’m still convinced there’s a Bradley locked somewhere inside. He was a good soul.”
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The door flung open and Zach burst in. “Trudie, are you okay? I came as soon as I got your message.” He sat down on the other side of me, took my hand and leaned his forehead in to mine. “I never trusted Bradley, from that first night he came out of the wine cellar. I can’t believe I almost lost you.”
Daniel cleared his throat. “Uh, Zach. Trudie’s okay. I’ve got this taken care of.”
Zach half lifted himself off the sofa and leaned toward Daniel. “Listen, Trudie is my best friend. If anyone’s going to take care of her, it’s me.”
Daniel tightened his hold on my shoulder. “And I said I’ve got it covered.”
“You’re hurting her.” Zach was now on his feet.
“Hurting her?” Daniel stood up, too. The air was thick with testosterone.
I held my arms out between them. “Hold on, here. Listen, both of you are special to me.” I paused. It was time to let the steam out of the pot. “Daniel, will you leave us alone for a few minutes? Please?”
Daniel hesitated, looking back and forth between Zach and me. “All right. If that’s what you want.” He joined the other officers gathering evidence in the kitchen.
I turned to Zach. “I have a confession to make. I want to get everything out in the open because I value our honest relationship, and I’m tired of keeping secrets.”
Zach cocked his head. “Okay.”
“Daniel and I have been…seeing each other. I didn’t want to tell you because you were in trouble, and I didn’t want to upset you.”
“You mean I was in jail and you were dating the guy who put me there? And all the time, I thought that maybe we had something between us?” Zach ran his hands through his hair—not a good sign.
I pulled his hands down and held them in mine. “Zach, you know you are, and always will be, my BFF. We work together every day, and there is no one else in this world I want as my business partner. I love you with all my heart, but taking the relationship beyond that is not an option.”
He looked down at his lap.
“Zach.” I put my hands on either side of his face and he lifted his gaze to me. “You need to know that in the middle of everything that’s happened over the past week, Daniel came into my life.”
I locked eyes with him, hoping he could see right through to my soul. “I’m sorry, Zach, but I think I’m falling in love with this man. Well, I’m not really sorry. I know our behavior might be viewed as unethical, and I may not have always been very loyal as a best friend. But I’ve stood by you a hundred percent in every other way. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Zach stared silently at his clenched fists. Then he relaxed and smiled at me. “Trudie, I guess I’m happy you’ve found love. I put you in a very uncomfortable position. We’re a team, bonded together by friendship. It wasn’t fair of me to try to insert some kind of romantic relationship where it doesn’t belong.”
He blinked. “If both of us are being truthful, I should tell you that I’ve never really gotten over my feelings for Ally.”
My heart just about leaped out of my chest. “You still have a thing for Ally? After all these years?”
“I’m afraid so.”
I put my hands on his shoulders. “Zach, Ally feels the same way about you.”
“What?” Zach shook his head. “No, she doesn’t.”
“Yes, she does. Bradley, I mean Steven, told me. He said she’s always wanted you. He was the one who put peanuts in that girl’s food at college. To get rid of the competition for Ally.” I squeezed his shoulders and nodded at the disbelief on Zach’s face.
“Really? And all this time I thought it was Ally who killed her.” Zach shook his head. “I was a real shit to her. Never even gave her a chance. I was convinced she did it.” He stood up and began to pace. “How will I ever make it up to her?’
“Zach, you can make it up by being honest with her. Steven’s been stalking her for years, supposedly ‘watching her back.’ And she’s been speaking to him on the phone for the past year, baring her soul to him. She cares for you.”
“Do you think I should call her?”
“I think you should go see her, talk to her. Find out for yourself.”
He hugged me. “Are you okay if I leave now?”
I glanced toward the kitchen and grinned. “I’m more than okay.”
Zach beamed as he walked to the door. “I’m on my way.”
“Oh, and Zach. Remember, you two still have those plane tickets to Toronto. Maybe the airline will give you guys a credit for the missed flight, or exchange them for a different trip.”
He gave me a thumbs up and slipped out the door.
After the police left, I had lots of questions for Daniel and wanted answers. “Okay, what did Steven do to you that he thought you were dead?”
“I was less than a mile away from here when he ran me off the highway into a steep ravine. My car rolled over three times, down the incline and caught fire. What he didn’t know was that I was thrown free of the car into the bushes. I must have passed out, but when I regained consciousness I could see him up through the branches standing at the top of the hill, watching my car until it was a burnt shell.”
I stiffened as he told the story. “Then he almost did kill you. Oh, Daniel.” I wrapped my arms around him, forgetting his cracked ribs.
“Easy, girl,” he groaned. “I still have some healing to do.”
“Wait a minute. If you were thrown from the car that means you weren’t wearing a seatbelt, right?”
“Right, but it did save my life, didn’t it?”
“Yes, but why weren’t you wearing a seatbelt?
Daniel brushed his knuckles along my cheek. “I was in a rush to get here. I knew you were in trouble and that somehow this guy, Steven Carver, was involved. Our investigation kept zeroing in on him.”
“Why? How could you know about him?”
“We tracked his movements. He grew up in Philadelphia but moved to Charlotte when Ally was in school with you. We traced him to a hotel in Maryland the day the college girl died and Chicago when Ally’s business manager was found dead in his restaurant walk-in cooler. He’s been living in Maryland since Ally graduated, so I went to his apartment to ask questions, but he didn’t answer the door. Maybe he knew I was on to him.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe he was following Ally all those years, and she didn’t even know. But when did you find out that Bradley was Steven?”
“I didn’t. Until I saw Bradley watching my car burn. He just stood there on top of that hill, a big grin on his face. I know it’s not an excuse for not buckling up, but all I wanted was to get to you before he did.”
“Okay. This time it worked out for the best. But in the future, I don’t want to worry about you driving around without a seatbelt.”
He smiled. “You would worry about me?”
“Of course I would. When Steven told me he’d taken care of you and that you were never coming, I freaked. I didn’t know what I’d do without you.” I frowned at Daniel. “How did you get here anyway, without your car?”
He laughed. “Trudie, I couldn’t get here fast enough. My cell phone was lost in the accident. So I climbed that hill through mud and brambles and vines to get to the highway. But then, no one would stop to pick me up. I probably looked like something out of the Blue Lagoon.”
“Well, could you blame them? You’re a mess.” His clothes were ripped and covered with mud, and his face was smeared with dirt and dried blood. “So how did you get here?” I asked again.
“Finally, the driver of a big rig took pity on me and stopped. I showed him my badge, told him where I needed to be and used his phone to call the station. We were so close, we made it here before the cops arrived.”
I leaned against Daniel’s chest and put my arms around him. “I’m just happy you got here when you did. I thought I was done for.”
Daniel tightened his hold on me and kissed my forehead. I lifted my chin and he kissed my eyelids, my nose, my cheeks and
then my lips. “I’ve got you now, Trudie. And I’m not letting go.”
THAT NIGHT IN Daniel’s bed, I lay safe and warm in his arms.
“I’m puzzled about something else,” I said.
He laughed. “Again with the questions?”
I sat up against my pillow. “What can I say? I won’t be able to sleep until I’m satisfied.”
He grinned. “After a couple of hours in bed, you’re still not satisfied? I guess I’ll have to rectify that.” He pulled me down and began nibbling at my neck.
“Stop,” I shrieked. “That tickles. And I want an answer to my question.”
“Okay,” he said. “Ask away.”
“Bob Lewis. I was sure he had something to do with Mr. Schwartz’s murder. You know—the pulverized peanuts in his pants pocket. And he and that guy Mason being so secretive about getting his pants dry cleaned. What was that all about?”
Daniel chuckled. “Trudie, you did some great investigative work, I must say. So I followed up and got a warrant to search the Lewis house.”
“You did? You mean you believed me and actually followed my lead?” I grinned at him. “So what did you turn up?”
“I turned up a whole hamper full of pants pockets with traces of pulverized peanuts.”
“What? No.”
“Yep,” he said. “Any pair of pants you’d have taken from that hamper would have had peanut crumbs. It turns out that Bob Lewis is on a low-carb diet.”
“Well, I know that. I catered a low-carb dinner at his house. So?”
“So he always keeps a stash of peanuts in his pants pockets for when he wants a snack. Evidently, he’d forgotten Mr. Schwartz was allergic to peanuts and realized too late that he shouldn’t have put them in his pocket when he went to the party. He purposely wouldn’t shake Schwartz’s hand that evening because he didn’t want to cause an allergic reaction. That’s why Mrs. Lewis thought her husband was acting belligerent and that they were arguing. But it was all very innocent. When Lewis confided to his business associate about it, Mason suggested he get the pants dry-cleaned so he wouldn’t be incriminated in his death. And that, young lady, is what you overheard at the Shiva house. Not a plot to cover up a crime.”