The gun didn’t waver in Michele’s hand. “You ruined my life. I can’t leave town without paying you back. You and Hank.”
“You only have yourself to blame.” Tina could feel the heat rushing up from her chest. “Did someone hold a gun to your head and tell you you had to traffic in human beings?”
“I see why Hank likes you. I couldn’t figure it out at first. You seemed to be such a timid little thing. Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes.”
“Well, call me Dorothy. I suppose you see yourself as the wicked witch.”
Michele laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. “More like the wicked stepmother.”
“Well, you know what happened to all of them.”
“Right.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Tina saw that Leslie was shaking. How were they going to get out of this? She looked at her purse on the chair next to her with longing. She knew her gun was on top of everything, easy to get to. How good a shot was Michele? Bitterly, she guessed the woman was excellent.
“So, how did you get in? The cellar is locked up tight.”
“I figured out Joshua must have had a key. I went hunting for it after the big round-up. And found it tonight. It opens the back door. Then I hid in the cellar.”
“But how did you get from the cellar to here?” Leslie asked.
“There’s a secret stairway from down there. And from here to the master closet. This house had the best access and layout for our needs compared to all the others. A shame it has to end.”
Tina closed her eyes for a moment. They should have wondered how everyone got to the master bedroom closet.
Leslie’s eyes narrowed as she studied Michelle. “You’re one of my kidnappers, aren’t you? You gave me the shot it my arm. There’s something about you… The way you move, I think.”
Michele looked startled. Then she laughed. “No need to deny it now.”
“Who was the other one?” Tina asked.
Michele shrugged. “No one you know. Just one of our people.”
“Well, how did you know about the secret passages and spaces?” Leslie asked. She sounded peeved. Tina wasn’t sure it was a good idea to sound like that when a person had a gun.
“Your aunt confided in the wrong person--her old housekeeper—who told a friend. Who told her husband. Who is one of us. After Margaret died, we added this house to the group we were already using in the area to house some people. It was just luck to discover the handholds on the wall to the window and that little Sophie was available to let everyone in. Then Joshua Young got suspicious and kept a watch on his daughter’s comings and goings. He saw her climb into the window well and ran to grab her.”
Leslie swallowed convulsively. “You killed him? You?”
Michele took a huge breath of air. “I had no choice.”
“You’re a monster,” Leslie whispered.
“Why did you get involved, Michele?” Tina asked. Keep her talking. Think about how to get out of this.
Michele laughed. “I like nice things. The government job was exciting for a time. But it doesn’t pay that well. It was easy to turn when the opportunity arrived.”
Tina decided she was looking at pure evil. No one else she had ever known was so cold, so ruthless. She wanted to smash the smirk off the woman’s face. Shooting her would be too good for her. But if she could get to her own gun, it would do.
Tina looked around the room. If Leslie distracted Michele, Tina might have a chance to do something. She knew if she didn’t, they’d both be dead soon. Michele was obviously enjoying prolonging it, explaining. But that would only last so long.
Her gaze fell on the bust of the Statue of Liberty with its crown with sharp points. Heavy, Leslie had said. Fumble in her purse for the gun? Or…
Leslie looked at Tina. Tina shifted her eyes to the bust. Leslie’s eyes widened and her nod was so slight, Tina almost missed it.
“Distract her!” Tina shouted.
Leslie didn’t hesitate. In one swift motion, she stood up and shoved the rolling chair toward Michele. Then she fell to the floor.
The chair hit Michele and knocked her sideways. The gun went off, but the shot was wild. Tina grabbed Lady Liberty and hurled it at Michele’s head. The sound it made when it hit was sickening. One of the crown points pierced Michele’s right eye. Blood gushed from a head wound as she collapsed to the floor. The gun skittered away. Tina went to grab it while Leslie crawled over to Michele.
“I think she’s dead.” Leslie gagged and pushed herself up to stand. She looked around wildly, then collapsed into a club chair.
Tina felt light-headed, but she walked over to Michele, then knelt down to take her pulse. “I think you’re right. The witch is dead.”
“Who’re you gonna call first?” Leslie asked.
Tina’s laugh was shaky. “Not some ghost busters. Nine-one-one, then Hank.”
Leslie nodded. “Good plan. When you’re done, I’m calling Nancy. I think I’m ready to sell this house.” She shuddered.
Tina bent down to hug her. “I don’t blame you. Maybe we could find a place to share.”
Leslie smiled through her tears. “I’d like that.”
Tina called nine-one-one. Then Hank, taking no satisfaction in the fact she’d been right. They hadn’t seen the last of Michele. Until now.
THE END
About the Author
BIO: I grew up in New Jersey and now live in Texas. Including this one, I’ve had seven novels and over sixty short stories published in various places during the last dozen years. Two stories were nominated for a Derringer Award. Two others won a Fire to Fly award and another the Mysterical-e 2000 Award for Best Story Previous to 2001. Here’s how to find me (please sign up for my newsletter at my website if you’d like news about my next books and stories being published):
Website: www.janchristensen.com
Blog: www.janchristensen.com/blog
Amazon Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/Jan-Christensen/e/B004XTXSYO/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/jan.christensen.9275
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/JanSChristensen
Pinterest:
http://pinterest.com/janchristensena/
Please look for my other novels:
Sara’s Search is available for the Kindle. Contact me if you want a new autographed hardcover copy. I still have some of the original editions available.
Revelations, Organized to Death, Perfect Victim, Blackout, Buried Under Clutter, and A Broken Life are also available for Kindle and in print at Amazon.com.
My new short story collections are all titled Warning Signs. Check out the mile marker on each cover for the number of the collection. These are collections of, usually, three previously published stories, all in Kindle format.
There is another series of single short stories published by Untreed Reads—The Artie Crimes. If you search for “Artie Crimes Christensen,” you should be able to find them anywhere ebooks are sold. Or simply go to my website, find the covers and click on any of them to learn more.
ACKNOWLEGEMENTS:
Many thanks to:
My editor, Anne Victory
Linda Gage for her fabulous cover
In case you missed reading the second in the Tina Tales series, here’s the first chapter to, hopefully, get you interested:
CHAPTER 1
The scream pierced the cold winter air. Tina whirled around in her driveway and stared at the old, decaying Queen Anne next door, then began running toward it. Fumbling in her bag for her cell phone, she stumbled on the cracked sidewalk leading to the house.
Another scream.
Tina dashed up the steps to the porch, then hesitated at the front door. Common sense told her not to go in. She dialed nine-one-one and waited. The silence from inside the house seemed more ominous than the screams.
Dispatch answered on the second ring. “What is your emergency?”
�
��Someone screaming next door to my house.”
“Address?”
Tina told her. “I’m standing outside. Should I go in?”
Before the dispatcher could answer, a distraught-looking woman burst out of the front door and banged into Tina, making her drop her cell. Tina bumped against the rotten railing, which gave way behind her. She caught herself by grabbing onto the also-decaying post. At least it saved her from flying into the dead bushes in front.
“Sorry. Sorry,” the woman mumbled. Her eyes were wide, her face pale as death. She ran her hand through her brown hair and plopped herself down on the faded green metal chair in front of the bay window. Tina shuddered. The paint was peeling. What would it do to the woman’s clothes? Nice clothes; expensive clothes, she noticed.
“What’s wrong?” Tina began to search for her phone. A stench from the open front door made her hesitate, but she couldn’t place the smell, so she continued the hunt.
“My aunt. It’s my aunt. She’s… she’s dead.”
“Mrs. Blackwell’s dead?” Tina stopped looking for her cell and stared at the woman.
A tinny voice from under the glider helped Tina find her phone.
“Hello? You there? Hello?”
“Yes.” Tina grabbed the phone and looked for a place to sit down because her legs were shaking. Nothing appealed to her—the other metal chairs were rusting and the glider looked dangerous. “Apparently there’s a dead woman in the house. Her niece found her just now.”
Mrs. Blackwell’s niece nodded. And nodded. Couldn’t seem to stop. Tina asked her, “You the one who was screaming? Is anyone else in there?”
More nodding. Then a shake of the head.
Tina made an effort to loosen her cramping hand on the cell. “She was screaming, but she’s not hurt. There’s no one else here. That we know of.”
A lone siren sounded, coming closer. The patrol car stopped in front, and two officers jumped out and ran toward the house. Another siren wailed, and an ambulance parked behind the police car.
Tina saw her mother and great-uncle come through their front door and approach the yard. Her mother’s eyes were wide and a little frightened. Uncle Bob had his service dog on her leash and had a determined set to his jaw. Here comes trouble. Tina said goodbye to the dispatcher and faced the two officers.
“Who called? And why?” the one who had been driving asked.
Mrs. Blackwell’s niece didn’t answer, so Tina said, pointing to her, “I called. She found her aunt inside. Dead.”
The officers dashed inside, the EMTs close behind.
“What’s going on?” Tina’s mother asked. “Olivia’s dead?” She gave the niece a sharp look. “Jenny, you all right?”
So, her mother knew the niece. Why wasn’t Tina surprised? Tina didn’t remember ever seeing her before. Must not have been a frequent visitor.
Jenny nodded. Tina noticed she wasn’t tearful. Just shocked.
The smell coming from the house was getting to her. She approached the doorway and peeked inside. Recoiled. The place was crammed with junk, piled to the ceiling in the hallway. It smelled like a dumpster in there. Tina backed away and caught her mother’s eye. Laura frowned at her and raised her eyes heavenward. So, she knew Mrs. Blackwell had been a hoarder.
Why hadn’t Laura told her about that? Tina had come back to Newport just a few months ago and started a professional organizing business. Laura should have known Tina would be interested in a hoarder living right next door. Oh, right, Mom didn’t approve of my new profession. She certainly wouldn’t want me anywhere near this awful mess. Tina had no enthusiasm for mucking around in there, either.
One of the officers, the cuter one with the spikey blond hair, stepped onto the porch. He held a white handkerchief over his nose, and his eyes were watering. But he wasn’t crying. Tina realized the stench caused the tears.
He talked to the radio on his shoulder as he moved down the steps and onto the cracked sidewalk. “We need the M.E. Yes, looks like a homicide.”
Cluttered Attic Secrets (Tina Tales) Page 28