I retrieved the key from under the door mat, and Patterson followed me into the house. The air around him practically crackled with barely contained vigor.
“In here.” I held open the door to the study, a small alarm clanging in the back of my head. I attributed it to the fact that I hadn’t eaten in over eighteen hours, but still. Patterson walked to the far wall and reached for the glass case.
“This is it, the M1903 Bushmaster carbine rifle. It was designed with a shorter barrel and stock for use in Panama, but never saw field action. After the close of the Second World War, most of these guns were dumped in the sea. Only 4,725 were ever made, and surviving pieces are extremely rare. I would feel confident in stating that this is the only gun of its kind in the state.”
“Truly fascinating.” I strove for nonchalance but couldn’t ditch the feeling I shouldn’t be here, and my voice quavered. “Don’t you think we should go back outside until Detective Capri gets here with the warrant?”
“You have been the biggest pain in my ass, do you know that?” Patterson spoke in such an even tone that I thought I’d misheard him. I reached for his shoulder only to have him whirl on me. I saw the gun in his hand and burst out laughing.
“What the hell is this?” I gasped between giggles.
“Your old man didn’t laugh when I held this gun on him last night. He had a heart attack and keeled right over into your van.”
That dried my laughter up quickly. “What are you talking about?” Even as I spoke the words, I knew. He’d killed them. Mrs. Kline, Greg the Gym Rat, Coop, he’d contrived all of their deaths.
I glanced at the pointed gun, then out the window. Patterson followed my line of sight and shook his head. “Maggie, Maggie, poor stupid Maggie, don’t you know that no one is coming? I never called Detective Capri. That woman couldn’t find her skinny white ass with both hands. The Finkelsteins won’t be back for hours. And since you so conveniently sent your brother off to get your darling husband, I can say with complete confidence that our privacy is guaranteed.”
He rubbed the side of his jaw with his left hand. “The stress of all this is getting to me. I think I need a vacation.”
“Why?” My mouth was so dry that the question came out as a croak.
Think, Maggie! Think! You have to figure out a way to fight him!
“Well if everything had gone according to plan, I would have been done with this weeks ago. But the little cleaning lady had to provide Doug with an alibi and throw a damn monkey wrench into my well-oiled machine. I think I deserve a nice, long rest.” He chuckled sadistically. “Although you’re going to have a much longer one.”
“But why did you kill her? Mrs. Kline wasn’t anything to you!”
“She was the love of my life! We met in college, and it was love at first sight. But she threw that love away, and for what! A rich-bitch existence with a limp-noodle businessman? She stayed faithful to him too, for almost a decade. And when she did decide to end her self-imposed celibacy, who’d she pick? Some scumbag gym rat who was lower than piss on a snake.” Venom in the form of spittle flew from his lips, and I was truly sorry I’d asked.
“Marty knows you were here. He knows that you were the last person with me and he’ll tell Neil. Neil will never stop until he finds you and kills you.” I was all false bravado but I had enough faith in my husband that I hoped I sounded convincing.
“Which is why I plan to be long gone before he gets within a mile of this place.”
I couldn’t help but detest the psychopath who had an answer for everything, especially when he cocked the gun.
“I’m an Ivy League man, Maggie. Do you know why the bad guy always explains everything before he offs the victim? Because he’s arrogant. He believes he’s thought everything through, and since the person he’s about to kill can’t relay anything to the outside world, he indulges in his own conceit while the cavalry is riding in for that last-second rescue. Pure hubris and the gods always punish him in the end.”
I heard the shot and dove to the floor. A sharp pain in my head made me cry out, and the cold ceramic tile rested against my cheek as Patterson spoke the last sentence I’d ever hear him utter.
“But, I’m not the bad guy Maggie, I’m the victim.”
* * * *
The blood was everywhere, it pooled beneath my hands, and the tangy smell of iron invaded my nostrils. I was afraid to open my eyes so I remained as still as possible while listening. There was no sound at all, and I held my breath, hoping Patterson had left. I had to get outside and hope someone found me before I bled to death.
Okay, Maggie, move as quickly as possible and don’t look back. I gave myself a small pep talk, hoping if Patterson was still around, I could find help before he got me.
Taking a quick deep breath, I pushed off the floor and in a somewhat smooth move, pivoted and ran for the door. I couldn’t feel any pain, other than where my head hit the floor, but my survival instincts had kicked in and the adrenaline was keeping me going.
A trail of bloody footprints marked my passage over the floor I’d just cleaned. I spied the door I’d come through with Patterson an eternity ago.
Almost there!
My efforts were rewarded by the glimpse of Marty’s car through the front window, and I made the extra push to reach the door. I stumbled through it into Neil’s waiting arms.
“Maggie!”
“Patterson,” I gasped at him. “He shot me!”
“Call 911!” Neil bellowed at Marty while his hands quickly roved my ruined clothing. “I don’t see a wound; where were you shot?”
A roaring blasted in my ears, and I don’t know if I answered him before the world went dark.
Chapter Sixteen
The white light took my breath away. I fought its pull because I knew I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t leave my family no matter what. I still had so much to tell Marty, I wanted to see Kenny and Josh graduate from high school and go to college and maybe someday even have families of their own. And Neil, I could almost hear his voice.
“Damn it! Somebody hold her down or she’ll hurt herself!”
“Neil?” I rasped, trying to sit up. The light proved too intense, and my eyes refused to open.
“Will you get that fucking light out of her eyes?” His harsh tone slid into the loving caress I was accustomed to. “Ssshh, I’m right here, Uncle Scrooge. You need to relax. Everything is going to be fine.”
I decided to trust Neil’s voice and relaxed for a moment before the memories seeped back in.
“He shot me! I was helping him and…,” and I couldn’t remember.
“No, he didn’t shoot you, Maggie. The blood was Patterson’s. Marty spotted him through the window. Now try and rest, we’ll be there soon.”
Neil’s voice faded away, and I drifted, hoping that God wasn’t pulling some sort of prank on me. I’d be extremely ticked off if I woke up dead.
“How you doing, Laundry Hag?” Marty said.
I struggled again to open my eyes, but everything blurred. “I’m alive, right, Sprout? That’s why you and Neil are here, not Mom and Dad, right?”
“Yes, you’re alive. We’re in an ambulance on the way to the hospital so a doctor can check you out.”
“I hate hospitals. People die there.”
“I know, but Neil or I will be with you the whole time. You aren’t going to die.” Marty squeezed my hand and then he hesitated. When he did speak, his tone was penitent. “Maggie, I’m so sorry I left you. I thought you were safe with Patterson and—”
“Marty. Save it for later.” Neil was back.
“Neil, are you mad at me?” My voice warbled and cracked.
“I’m not mad at you, sweetheart, I’m just glad you’re safe.”
Sweetheart? Not Uncle Scrooge or Laundry Hag? “Oh God, I’m gonna die!”
“Maggie, dial the drama down a notch, and I promise no more generic endearments. We’re gonna have to take you to a shrink as it is.”
Those whispered words relaxed me
, and I settled in for the duration. It was nice to have someone else doing the decision making for a change.
The ride to the hospital seemed endless, and my head pounded in time to the siren’s wailing. Neil filled out paperwork as I was deposited in a semi-private room partitioned off by curtains. Marty stayed with me until Neil came back, followed by a handsome young doctor.
“How are you feeling, Mrs. Phillips?”
I thought it was a stupid question, but he was cute so I answered anyway.
“I’m tired, and my head is throbbing.” The young doctor shone yet another flashlight in my eyes. I really needed to be able to think straight. Every time my mind seemed to grasp something, it was snatched away again, like a gum wrapper in a tornado.
“I know, but you have to stay awake a little while longer.” He clicked off his small penlight and turned to face Neil and Marty. “I’m almost positive we’re dealing with a concussion. Blurred vision and difficulty concentrating are very common symptoms. I want to run some tests, and we should keep her overnight for observation.”
That statement seeped into my brain like water through a rusty sieve. “NO! I can’t stay here!”
Neil held me back while addressing the startled doctor. “She becomes distraught in hospitals and she’ll work herself up to a panic attack if she has to stay here. Can’t we take her home today?”
I froze inside the circle of Neil’s arms, praying they’d let me leave. “I promise I won’t go after any more killers.”
The doctor’s lips twitched. “Let me order a CT scan. Head injuries can be extremely tricky, and you’ll need someone to watch over you at all times.”
“I will,” Marty and Neil said at once.
Neil shot my brother a vicious glare, and Marty shrugged. “Well, he will.”
“We’re going to schedule some tests and we’ll know more in a few hours. Until then, try to rest.”
“May I come in?”
I looked up from my uncomfortable bed to see the small stature of Detective Capri. The doctor exchanged a few words with her before exiting the curtained off area.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Phillips, but I thought you’d like to know Patterson is dead.”
Patterson.
I needed to concentrate, but the cobwebby shadows in my brain didn’t make any sense. “He shot me.”
“He tried, but the gun misfired,” Capri informed me.
“He won’t ever hurt anybody else.” Neil rubbed the inside of my palm with his thumb.
“You stopped him, Sis. Way to go.”
Detective Capri cleared her throat. “Can you remember anything else?”
An image flickered behind my eyes. “He was so angry with me. He said I’d ruined his plans….” I struggled for more, but the information was playing a game of cat and mouse in my muddled brain.
Neil glared at Capri, his voice rife with warning. “We think she has a concussion, so now’s probably not the best time to question her.”
Detective Capri pulled up the small rolling stool that the doctor had recently vacated.
“Let me tell you what we’ve discovered so far. Bradley Patterson was a hardworking cop who joined the force after he graduated from Harvard. No one could understand why an Ivy League man would settle for a cop’s lifestyle, but he had an exemplary record, which is why he made detective so fast.
“No one found it unusual that he requested assignment to Alessandra Kline’s murder investigation. Patterson was in the habit of taking on the high-profile cases. Unfortunately, we’re pretty sure he took the opportunity to destroy the ballistic report on Mrs. Kline’s shooting and falsify the evidence. We also learned that he was the one who leaked Mrs. Kline’s affair to the press.”
“He wanted to punish her because she rejected him,” I said. Fragments gathered into a familiar shape.
Capri stood up ready to press me, but Neil interjected. “Maybe you should tell her the rest of what you learned first.”
The detective nodded. “We have his prints on the Bushmaster Carbine Rifle at the Finkelstein house. Both homeowners recognized him as the night security guard they’d hired after a string of break-ins had occurred in the neighborhood. Mr. Finkelstein fired him after he caught Patterson touching his gun collection.”
“So Patterson took the job in order to get to the rifle he used to kill Greg,” Neil summarized, and the detective nodded.
“Correct. What we don’t know is why.” Capri eyed me intently.
I struggled to sit up, hoping a more vertical position would help energize my sluggish brain cells. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The intense throbbing pain blocked out everything else. I groaned and sank back down.
“She needs to rest. How about try this later.” Neil’s tone left no room for debate.
“Why don’t you check the cameras?” Marty offered.
Total silence reigned in my curtained-off area as we waited for him to elaborate.
“There are video cameras all over the Finkelstein house; didn’t anyone else notice?”
“I’ll check and see if they were active. We might have the whole incident on tape.” Capri nodded her thanks at both me and Marty before hurrying off.
“Way to go, Sprout. Maybe you should become a cop.”
“I’ll think on it.”
I settled back down into the way too firm pillow before uttering an oath.
“What?” Both Neil and Marty paled with my outcry.
“That teacher, Mrs. Martin! I have a meeting with her today!”
“You’ll have to reschedule.” Neil relaxed into a parade rest stance.
“I can’t! She had a fit last time when I didn’t show up. I have to be there!” I flung a leg out of bed, but Neil held me still.
“Maggie, you’re injured, and the doctors have to run some tests. Now either you simmer down, or I’ll call a nurse in here to sedate you.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Lady, you’re threatening the well-being of my wife, don’t even think you can imagine what I’m capable of.”
Another wave of nausea broke over me, and the fight went out with the tide. I reluctantly sat back. “I’ve ruined everything. Poor Josh. And the Christmas tree…I can’t do anything right.”
“Pity party, table for one.” Neil cupped his hands over his mouth and made the announcement in an impersonal voice.
“My sides are splitting.”
“Well, it’s a good thing there are plenty of people around here able to stitch you back up. Now relax.”
I laid back and looked at my husband.
“I see you, Maggie.”
“And I can almost see you,” I told his fuzzy outline.
* * * *
After a battery of medical tests, I was sent home with the instructions to make an appointment with a local neurologist and to seek medical help immediately if my symptoms worsened or didn’t go away in a few days. Marty picked the boys up from school, and they all jumped to greet us as we came through the door.
“Mom, did you really have a gun fight with a killer?” Kenny’s eyes grew round and lit with curiosity.
“Marty, what have you told them?” As Neil helped me to the couch, I shot my brother a dirty look.
“What?” Marty raised his arms in a helpless gesture. “I said their mom helped the police catch a killer and that you were very brave. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I have an appointment.”
“Easy, guys. Mom hit her head and needs to rest, so don’t pester her, okay?”
“I’m glad you’re okay, Mom.” Josh wrapped his arms around my neck and gave me a fierce hug. Not to be outdone, Kenny snuggled into my chest.
I let the tears spill out of my eyes, pleased I’d lucked out.
“Tell you what, guys, go do your homework, and I’ll order us some pizzas for dinner. We can watch some movies and stay up late.” As always, Neil to the rescue.
Kenny and Josh scampered off, and Neil crouched on the floor next to me. “Can I g
et you anything?”
“Some water would be great.”
Neil retrieved my drink and handed it to me. “By the way, there were about twelve messages on the machine for Laundry Hag Inc. What do you want me to do about them?”
I didn’t know. Part of me wanted to throw in the towel and go back to the stay-at-home mom bit, but I did like having something to do during the long, lonely days. “What do you think I should do?”
“I think you should take it a day at a time. I’ll return the calls and say you’re out of commission for a while and that you’ll get back to them when you’re up to it.”
“I want to be a little pickier if I do go back into it. Make my own hours, so I’m off when you are and when the boys need me.”
“We’ll hammer out the details later. By the way, what have you been charging?”
“Fifteen dollars an hour. That was pretty much covering the gas and cleaning supplies, plus my partner’s cut.”
Neil shook his head. “It’s no wonder that so many people are trying to reach you. I did a little online research last night, and the going rates for a cleaning service in this area working on houses the size you were is $150 per visit. That’s ten hours of labor at your current rates.
“Neil, you’re killing me.” I thought of all the scrubbing and scouring I’d done, not to mention the stress. Knowing that I’d been shortchanging myself only made my head pound harder. “I’m injured here, have a heart.”
“Don’t think of it as all the money you could have made, imagine how much you will make. That’s a ton of garage-sale spending money for Uncle Scrooge.”
I put a pillow over my head and waved him away, but he yanked it from my face.
“Hey, Maggs, I’ve been thinking and um….”
He didn’t meet my gaze, or at least I don’t think he did, and he toed his sock-encased foot into the carpet. Who was this shy guy in SEAL’s clothing?
“I know my timing stinks, but I think we could benefit from some counseling.”
“Counseling?” He’d have to forgive me for sounding like a nitwit, but I did have a concussion.
“Yeah, I mean, we’ve been fighting so much lately, and you said some stuff the other day—”
The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag - #1 Skeletons in the Closet Page 18