Killer, Paper, Cut

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  One more try, I promised myself. If this doesn't work, I'll break the windows.

  I braced myself again. "One-two-three," and put all my weight in opposition to his limp form. With effort, I managed to pull Leighton out of the car. I tugged him backwards until he was lying on the floor.

  "Leighton? Leighton?"

  But he didn't respond.

  Chapter 73

  How I managed to drag him out of the garage and onto the grass I'll never know. But I did. They say that your adrenaline kicks in and gives you super-powers. I guess that's what happened.

  I remember how heavy he was. How he flopped like a big ragdoll. How his feet fought me as the heels of his shoes scraped the floor. How loose his arms were. How they caught against the car. How I had I stop twice and renew my grip around his chest.

  By the time I dumped him onto the grass, I was crying and screaming his name.

  His color was gray. I turned him face up, on his back on the ground.

  "Scoot out of the way." Detweiler's hand touched my shoulder.

  Because he was there to take over, I threw myself onto the grass and dialed nine-one-one. Between sobs, I told the dispatcher that we needed an ambulance and police response. Had Leighton tried to commit suicide? I wasn’t sure. As I ended the call, I wondered. But I couldn't believe that. It wasn't in his nature.

  Yes, I was more than ready to pin this on Melissa. Call me judgmental, call me nasty, call me mean. I had a hunch she was behind all this. It was simply too convenient. While Detweiler labored over my landlord, I sat on the grass and cried big gulping sobs.

  "You okay?" asked Detweiler between breaths.

  "Yes," I said quickly. I didn't want him to stop helping Leighton, and the truth was that I was okay. Sort of. Daggers of pain stabbed through my skull. My thinking was foggy. I couldn't concentrate, and saliva filled my mouth as a prelude to heaving.

  Rolling to my knees I vomited in the grass. Detweiler stopped to check on me.

  "Go back, help him," I said. "Please!"

  As he continued to pump Leighton's chest, I kept puking. Tears streamed from my eyes. The force of my stomach's contractions knocked me onto my elbows. I couldn't see for the blur and I couldn't get myself to quit heaving. I upchucked until nothing came out but bile.

  When the EMTs arrived, they saw me first. I waved them away. A second ambulance arrived in short order. A medic ran to me, and since I knew that Leighton and Detweiler were now receiving assistance, I didn't push him away.

  "Are you…?" he paused and stared down at my belly. "How far along are you?"

  When I told him, he screamed for a gurney.

  "No, no, really I'm okay," I protested.

  Detweiler was talking to the first set of EMTs, telling them what he knew about Leighton. He glanced over and saw that they were bringing a gurney for me.

  "Kiki? What—"

  "Out of the way, sir," said a tech, as they slid the gurney under me.

  Before I could protest, they clamped an oxygen mask over my face.

  "This woman is pregnant. We need to get her to the hospital and continue her oxygen treatment. Her baby might be at risk," said the tech, as he pushed Detweiler away from me.

  My baby? At risk? Oh, Lord, what have I done?

  I heard Detweiler's voice go up a notch. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him and the EMT get into a shoving match.

  My baby!

  I hadn't thought about my baby when I plunged into the garage. Now it came to me. My baby was breathing via my red blood cells. The carbon monoxide would have crowded out the oxygen in my blood stream.

  I sank back onto the stretcher and wailed in fear. Was it possible? Could I have hurt my unborn child?

  Why hadn't I waited for help?

  What had I done?

  Chapter 74

  "Hey," said Detweiler, as he kissed my fingers a couple of hours later. "How are you feeling?"

  I woke up to a flickering fluorescent bulb that buzzed like a bumblebee. My head hurt. My throat was raw from puking. The sheets felt scratchy and I had an IV stuck in my forearm.

  Hospitals, you gotta love them. While I'd never recommend a visit one for the fun of it, they sure had their act together when it came to recovery.

  "My baby?" I asked, touching my belly and trying not to cry.

  "Is fine. You weren't in the garage long enough to do any lasting harm." Detweiler's green eyes looked more golden than usual, probably because they were moist. The tip of his nose was pink. I could tell he was seriously upset. That vein along his temple throbbed, a sign that his blood pressure is high.

  "Leighton?"

  "Will be fine. Or so they think. They'll be doing tests on him. He's dehydrated, malnourished, and sick as a dog."

  "Dog! What about Petunia?"

  "Also fine. I found him at the pound. I sprung him just in time. He was due to be, uh, euthanized." Detweiler's eyes darkened, a sign that he was seriously not happy. I could see by the set of his jaw that this cruelty had really gotten under his skin. He's accustomed to criminal behavior, and he deals with it in a dispassionate way, but when an animal is involved, his control slips.

  "What? Why was Petunia there?"

  "I guess Melissa didn't like him. She signed the papers."

  "What a monster! I hate her!" I pushed myself to an upright position.

  "Join the club." Detweiler helped me. "Your doctor is finishing the paperwork right now. I'll be springing you from this joint in just a while."

  At my gesture, he handed me a glass of water. Once I'd had some, I asked, "Are our kids okay?" How easy it had been to move from "Is Anya okay?" to the plural of "Are our kids okay?"

  "Everyone is fine. Brawny, too. In fact, she pulled up with Erik and Anya right as the police were taking Melissa away in handcuffs. I'm not sure what she said in Gaelic, but it was some version of 'Good riddance to bad rubbish,' I'm sure."

  "Tell me what happened. How did Leighton wind up in the garage? With the car motor running?" I twined my fingers through his. After I moved over on the bed, he sat next to me, half on the bed half off, with his long legs touching the floor.

  "Melissa used the OxyContin on Leighton. At first, she gave him just enough to keep him loopy. While he was out of it, she managed to empty all of his bank accounts. She maxed out his credit cards. But she’d already raided his online accounts. He’d given her a password even before she moved here. That's why we couldn't get any water. It had been turned off. Also why we didn't see him. He was zonked out."

  "But why? If she'd been smart, he would have given her anything she asked!"

  "She wasn't smart, and she was greedy. I think he might have caught her writing checks on his account. That must have been the last straw. When he confronted her, I bet she made some excuse, and then she increased the amount she was drugging him. After she'd emptied out all his accounts, and maxed out his credit cards, she decided he was worth more to her dead than alive. After all, she was his sole heir."

  "Gosh, it happened so fast." I shook my head.

  "That was her goal. She wanted to suck him dry, take the money, and leave the country. She had her passport and an airline ticket in her handbag. Even had her suitcase packed and ready to go. A cab pulled up as the squad car drove away. She was his fare. In some ways, she was a pro. She had all her moves planned in advance. That's why we didn't see him after she moved in. Melissa started drugging him from the minute she arrived. That whole song and dance about wanting to move into the little house was a ruse to get him distracted. And to get under his roof. When we offered her resistance, I think she decided to speed things up. Leighton has bruises on his body. I wouldn't doubt that she slapped him around to get him to do as she wanted."

  "Oh, my gosh!"

  "Listen, elder abuse is much, much more common than you might guess. The elderly are particularly easy to dupe, because they are often lonely. Actually the bruises were helpful. That gave us a reason to take her in right away while we sort everything out. Our inst
incts were right: Melissa was bad news. Petunia knew it, as did Gracie. I guess Tunie bit her twice."

  "A dog with great taste. I can't believe Tunie was almost put down." I paused. He was stroking my head and I felt drowsy. "What happens next?"

  "You go back to sleep. I'll come get you as soon as the paperwork is finished."

  Chapter 75

  Thursday morning…

  I slept late the next day. Not surprisingly, Anya had been worried, and by extension Erik was, too. He wasn't old enough to understand all that had happened. His connection to his new sister was strong enough that her worries were his. The children had worked together to craft a huge "Get Well" card for me. I opened my eyes to see it standing up on the bedside table. The two signatures put a lump in my throat.

  Petunia has always been a scaredy-cat, but his stint in the pound really undermined his fragile sense of security. He had been whimpering nonstop until Detweiler put him on the bed so he could cuddle with me. Gracie lowered herself to the rag rug beside our bed with a loud whomp. I suspect she was a bit put out that Tunie was snuggling on the bed and she was on the floor, but there wasn't really enough room for both dogs.

  "Petunia has been through a trying experience," I told Gracie as I rolled onto my side and rubbed her ears. "Try to be patient with him."

  I noticed that the little pug smelled good. Detweiler explained that when he'd brought the dog back from the pound, he'd been so filthy that Brawny immediately gave him a bath.

  More and more, Brawny thought of everything and did everything to make our lives more enjoyable. She was a real blessing. I had a lot to be thankful for, especially given my close call in the garage.

  "You should have just broken all the windows to the garage first," said the cop.

  "Probably."

  "And dialed nine-one-one and waited."

  "Probably."

  "But that might not have saved Leighton's life."

  "Indubitably," I said, remembering the word from Mary Poppins.

  "I still can't figure out how you managed to haul Leighton out of the car. Melissa had moved the driver's seat up so he was basically pinned inside."

  "I'll never know either," I admitted.

  Although Detweiler had thought it a bad idea, I decided I wanted to attend the crop I'd scheduled. I really do love Zentangle, and I badly needed the mental break it would provide. Besides, I felt antsy. I needed to get up and move around.

  The IV had also done me a world of good. I guess with everything on my mind, I hadn't been drinking as many fluids as I should have. Of course, my throat was still raw from vomiting, but Brawny made me a soothing concoction of tea and honey. She also produced a package of Fisherman's Friend, lozenges of slippery elm, a plant that coats the throat wonderfully well. That helped, too.

  Knowing that we wouldn't have to move was a huge relief. At least, Detweiler and I assumed we wouldn't need to move right away. With Melissa in jail and Leighton in the hospital, there wasn't a good reason to pack up. Detweiler cancelled the moving van we'd rented. If Leighton still wanted us out, we vowed to consider our experience a trial run.

  Clancy stopped by my house in on her way to the store. She brought a bouquet of flowers and some pastries from the Muffin Man, a bakery we both loved.

  "Was the Muffin Man nice to you today?" I teased her. She and the owner of the bakery seem determined to butt heads. Even so, he makes the best pastries in the metro St. Louis area, so Clancy gets mad, goes back, repeat, rinse, repeat.

  Brawny put the blossoms in a vase and added them to my bedside table. Detweiler extracted a promise from me that I would sleep as long as possible before going to the store. Brawny was assigned to come with me. Detweiler would pick up the kids after school and feed them dinner.

  For lunch, Brawny fed me a soothing soup. "Cock-a-leekie," she explained. "The national soup of Scotland."

  "I suppose that every culture has its own variation on chicken soup," I said, eagerly spooning it into my mouth.

  "That would make sense, wouldn't it?" she said. "My mother told me that the leeks should always be cut into half-moons, to remind us that God is smiling down on us."

  She hesitated and then added, "I left out the sliced prunes. For some folks, they cause, um, problems."

  In the early afternoon, the doorbell rang with another bouquet of flowers. This was from Leighton. On the card were two words: Thank you. I couldn't imagine what he might be feeling. First he thinks he has a chance at redemption for not being a good dad. Then he thinks that Melissa has forgiven him. And when did he realize she'd gone totally off the tracks on a crazy train? At what point did it become clear to him that she planned to hurt him? How did you cope with the fact that your own child wanted you dead?

  The thought of it made me want to start heaving all over again.

  *Note: The recipe for Cock-a-leekie Soup is at the end of this book!

  Chapter 76

  I was getting dressed for the crop when Sheila called. I recognized her phone number on the caller ID. A part of me didn't want to answer the phone. I really didn't have the energy to deal with her. But another part was pleased. I knew she cared about me. She might not say that, but the fact that she called proved it.

  "I can't believe you risked your life like that," she said, without the preamble of a greeting. "That old codger owes you big time. It's all over the news. He was in his own car in the garage and nearly dead when you hauled him out. Good thing Detweiler knows CPR."

  "Yes, it sure came in handy." I'd been thinking I needed to take a refresher course. The old way had you doing more breaths, while the newly revised protocol involved more compressions of the chest and fewer breaths.

  "Your baby is okay?"

  "Yes," I said. There was the slightest of possibilities that our baby was not okay, but I wouldn't let myself go there. The doctor had assured me that the chance was miniscule. Infinitesimal. But that was enough for me to worry over. However, I didn't see any reason to share my concern with Sheila. She would use it to beat me up. She can be like that.

  "Well, it's all over the news. I bet the reporters are banging down the door at your store."

  I groaned. That was all I needed. I probably should have cancelled the Zentangle session, but I had been looking forward to the evening. I could use a little zen in my life right now.

  "Do you know that his daughter managed to grab the rights to his books?" Sheila kept prattling on.

  "Pardon?" I sank back down on the bed. My head was still achy, and I was having trouble concentrating. "Could you repeat that?"

  "Melissa Haversham was in cahoots with her father's literary agent. The agent wanted to go off and start his own firm, so he made a deal with Melissa. If she could get the rights, then the agent would have his first big client. The two of them ganged up on Leighton and convinced him to sign over his rights for The Overland Trilogy. Can you believe that? So she will be getting his royalty checks. Of course, you know that she emptied out his bank accounts. He's ruined. Busted. Even though attorneys say he might be able to retrieve his rights, the outcome is uncertain. I mean, everyone is speculating that Melissa is going to jail for a long, long time. But who knows? These situations can be tricky, and they generally take a while to get resolved. The upshot is that right now Leighton's out of funds. No cash. No revenue stream. No income."

  I scrunched the pillow up under me. I didn't really know what to say. A part of me felt incredibly sorry for Leighton. The idea of two people he trusted conspiring against him made me weary with sadness.

  "Kiki? Are you there?" Sheila demanded. "He'll have to put that house up for sale."

  "Crud," I said. "We just cancelled the moving van."

  "It'll take a while to move a behemoth of a house like that," said Sheila. Her diction was slightly slurred.

  Was it the result of only one Bloody Mary? I wondered.

  "Of course," she continued, "Leighton’s place is worth a mint, being on that big lot and all."

  I closed my ey
es, wondering where would Monroe go? I knew we could move into the house in U City, but what about the donkey? And Leighton?

  "They'll probably tear down his big house and your small one and put three houses on the lot," continued Sheila.

  "Double crud," I said. "This lot is gorgeous. If they do that, they'd have to knock down a lot of trees."

  "Absolutely. Who cares about trees when you can put up three brand-spanking-new houses and make a lot of dough?" she cackled.

  "Look, I need to go," I said. Truth to tell, I was feeling sick again. Brawny must have sensed what was happening. She appeared in the doorway with a cup of tea doctored with ginger root. I could smell the spicy concoction from my spot in my bed.

  As I struggled to sit up, Brawny handed over the mug. "You ought to avoid stressful situations for a while."

  I nodded. "Do you really think that'll happen?"

  She laughed and that gray knob of a ponytail bobbed. "I suppose that's as likely as seeing Nessie, the Loch Ness monster, starring in a feature film. You do remember that Miss Lori is coming in tonight, don't you?"

  I'd forgotten.

  "Not to worry. She asked me to book her a nice room at the Ritz. I'll pick her up from the airport and get her settled," said Brawny. "They allow dogs there, so her new pup will be welcome."

  "Oh my gosh," I said. "You told me to avoid stressful situations."

  "Trust me, Miss Kiki, the two of you will get along famously. Like two peas in a pod."

  Chapter 77

  Brawny walked me into the store and stayed long enough to see me settled at my work table. The Zentangle guests were due to arrive in half an hour, so I was comfortably early. It felt good to be back in the saddle. Brawny changed out my stool for an adjustable office chair with a back and arm supports.

  "Now, don't let her get flustered," Brawny lectured Clancy. "She's to stay off her feet as much as possible."

  "I think I can manage." An annoyed look flickered over Clancy’s face. I put my hand over my mouth so I wouldn't giggle. "I'll treat her like visiting royalty."