by Lisa Bork
“Does he sell them?”
“Sure does. One of the florists in town stocks them. We also sell them here, along with the fresh eggs, if you know someone who might like one.”
My mouth felt dry. I shivered, even though the greenhouse had to be eighty degrees. I didn’t know if I was sitting in the house of a killer—or just the florist to a killer. Either way, it spelled a funeral for me.
Could Leslie’s brother be the killer? If so, I wasn’t safe here. I slid to the edge of the chair cushion, ready to make my excuses. I needed to call Ray.
Leslie chattered on, clearly not sensing anything amiss. “The last one we sold was to that man who liked the Caterhams, the man I told you about.”
I blinked. “You never told me his name, Leslie.”
“It’s Maury. Maury Boor.”
I slumped in the chair. Maury Boor. My sister had married an axe murderer, and I would get to be the one to tell her. “It’s a little warm in here, Leslie. Could I trouble you for a glass of water?”
“Sure.” She lumbered to her feet and disappeared into the kitchen.
I wanted to weep, but after all my perspiring, I didn’t have any fluids left. Besides, how would I explain my breakdown to poor, sweet Leslie? I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell her that the love of her life had married my sister—and killed a woman just days before that.
Leslie reappeared, holding a glass of water in her hands. The gray dog trotted in at her heels. She held the glass out to me without a word.
“Thank you.” I drank it down.
She continued to stand over me. The dog had settled at her feet, watching me.
I set the empty glass on the coffee table and studied her. Something was different. Had her shirt been blue earlier or was it just a trick of the lighting? “Is everything okay, Leslie?”
“Here’s the pie. Peter, now that you’ve introduced yourself, go get the coffee, will you? I couldn’t fit it all on the tray.”
The person standing over me who I thought was Leslie took a few steps back and smiled. His teeth were crooked, not the pretty veneers Leslie had gotten. “Sure, Les.”
He turned and went through the door, passing his sister, who balanced a tray as she crossed the room to me. My purse dangled from her arm.
She smiled and set the tray down. “I hope Peter introduced himself. I told him you were in here, admiring his planters.”
My lips parted, but no sound came out. The resemblance was uncanny. Without the veneers, I’d never have known the difference between the two. Although something about Peter’s smile had made me uncomfortable, creeped out actually.
Leslie held out my purse. “Your cell phone was ringing. You might have a message.”
“Thank you.” I set the purse next to me on the chair, still reeling. Was Peter the killer? Or was Maury? Maury’s initials didn’t match the key chain in the Camry. Peter’s did.
Leslie busied herself with slicing the pie. She used a ten-inch knife.
I couldn’t take my eyes off it. This house was well-armed with cutlery.
Leslie set a piece of pie in front of me. “Here you go, Jolene.”
“Thanks, Leslie.” I pulled out my cell phone and noticed the message announcement. “Do you mind if I get my message? It might be the school calling about Da … our foster child.”
Or it might be Ray with an update on Jessica James’ killer. Please don’t let him say I was sitting down to coffee with a killer.
Leslie’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “I didn’t know you and Ray had a child. By all means, go ahead.”
As I dialed the number and waited for my message, Peter carried in a tray with two cups of coffee on it. The dog was still at his heels.
Peter set one cup in front of me and one by Leslie then set the sugar and creamer in between us. “Here you go, Les. I’ll be outside.”
“Don’t you want pie?”
“I’ll have some with dinner.” He walked out with the dog behind him.
I glanced at Leslie as I entered my password. “Please, go ahead, enjoy. Don’t wait for me.” I wasn’t going to drink the coffee anyway. I never drank the stuff. I’d have to pretend to take a sip or two, just to be polite. Then I’d run like hell.
Leslie smiled and picked up her coffee cup. She sank back in her chair and took a gulp.
Ray’s voice came over the phone. “Darlin’, I got your messages. We found the Camry last night. It had blood stains in it and some animal hairs and human hairs. It also had the old New York State license plates on it, the ones with the red Statue of Liberty in the center. We couldn’t identify the owner right away.
“The DMV looked through their archives. The Camry was registered to Peter Flynn. Peter Flynn, Sr. I guess Leslie’s brother is named after the father. We located a death record. He died fifteen years ago.”
My gaze darted to Leslie, who had finished half her coffee and was now leaning forward to pick up her pie. Then my gaze skipped over to the ten-inch knife lying near her plate.
“We found a record for her brother Peter. He had a driver’s license. He lost it after a drunk driving accident, the third in a string when he was a teenager. I’m on my way to question the girls at The Cat’s Meow again to see if they remember him driving a Camry. We’re also requesting a search warrant for the farm. He may be our man. I’ll try you again later.”
When Ray stopped talking, I almost sobbed out loud. Never had I wanted him with me more.
The gray dog trotted into the room again and sniffed the table. Leslie looked up from her pie in surprise. “Bad dog, Rufus. Lie down.
She glanced over at me. “Peter lets Rufus eat table food. He should have taken him back outside.”
I clicked my cell phone shut and nodded, smiling weakly. Ray had said they found animal hairs in the Camry. Could they have been gray dog hairs? I wondered if they had found any hairs on Jessica James’ body as well. It would probably take them weeks to run them through the city’s crime lab. I doubted Wachobe’s cases took priority.
“Is everything all right? Aren’t you going to eat your pie?”
I realized Leslie was staring at me. She looked the same as all the other times I’d seen her. She seemed just as friendly and nice. I still felt an overwhelming desire to snatch up my purse and run.
Too bad the dog now lay in my exit path, watching me with his big yellow eyes. Too bad he looked big enough to swallow me whole.
I picked up my pie and took a bite, the cell phone still in my hand.
Leslie smiled happily and took her coffee cup in hand.
I ate the piece of pie, except for the crust, while she finished her coffee. It was a good pie. I told her so, hoping it wouldn’t be my last.
“I have to be going, Leslie. I have to pick Danny up at school.” I waggled the cell phone at her as if in explanation.
“Well, I’m glad you stopped by. I never get to have coffee with a friend. Let me get the chicken for you.”
Leslie stood. She grabbed the arms of her chair.
She sat again. “I feel woozy.”
When I stood up to help her, the dog leapt to its feet and growled. I didn’t dare touch Leslie. “Are you all right, Leslie?”
“I don’t know. Let me lean back for a second.”
I watched as she shifted her weight back in the chair. Her eyes closed.
I waited for a few seconds. “Leslie? Leslie?”
I reached for her. The dog inched toward me and growled again.
I dropped my hand to my side.
Leslie’s lips parted.
She snored.
Peter appeared in the doorway.
“I guess you’re not a coffee drinker, Mrs. Parker.”
“No, I’m not.” My response was automatic as my gaze darted around the room, searching for another exit. I spotted a door in the far corner, but it was barricaded by plants. The only way out of this room was past Peter … and his dog.
“That’s too bad. Leslie said you were interested in m
y planters. They told me at the florist shop that your husband had requested a list of all the customers who bought one.” Peter stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “I guess I should have thought to take back the one I gave Josie.”
It was as good as a confession. Peter had killed Jessica James a.k.a. Josie Montalvo.
My hands started to shake. I thought I might throw up my pie. I swallowed multiple times and fought for control.
Peter’s gaze never left me. He didn’t make any moves toward me, either.
I wondered if I could flip open my cell phone and surreptitiously dial 911. My gaze dropped to my hand.
Peter noticed.
He lumbered into the room and grabbed the cell phone from me. He picked up my purse, too. Then he returned to his position in the doorway.
He flipped the lid on my cell open and shut, open and shut, over and over again until I was ready to scream.
Abruptly he stopped. “You should have drunk the coffee. All I wanted was a head start.”
Funny, that’s all I wanted, too.
I heard a car door slam. I sucked in my breath and prayed. Could it be Ray?
I twisted my head toward the driveway. A woman and a toddler stood on the gravel, looking toward the house. Another egg customer.
Peter spotted them, too. “Rufus. Guard.”
The dog leapt to its feet, teeth bared.
Peter disappeared and reappeared seconds later in the driveway. He spoke to the woman and headed in the direction of the barn. I lost sight of him.
I thought about screaming. My lips parted.
The dog growled. Saliva dripped from its lips and hit the vinyl floor, forming a puddle.
If I screamed, I would be endangering a woman and a child, not to mention myself. Rufus might be trained to go for the neck.
I sat instead.
Leslie snored on next to me, oblivious.
The dog watched me, still growling, but didn’t come any closer. The coffee table was between us. It seemed like a very flimsy safety net to me.
I thought about placing my drugged cup of coffee on the floor in the hopes Rufus would lap it up. But the coffee cup was so small and Rufus was so big. He’d probably spill it, if he’d even break the guard command.
Then I noticed all the plants had water saucers under them. I reached to my right.
Rufus barked and snarled, lunging forward.
I closed my eyes, said another quick prayer, lifted a plant and pulled out the saucer.
Rufus snarled and lunged again, saliva dripping on the table now.
Hands shaking, I reached for my coffee cup.
Rufus growled but didn’t lunge.
I flipped the coffee into the saucer. Then I grabbed the crust I’d left on my plate and added it to the mixture.
Rufus’ saliva had pooled on the table. He wasn’t growling anymore.
No way was I going to hold the dish out to him. He could take my hand off with one lunge.
I placed the saucer on the floor and used my foot to slide it over to him.
He growled, snapping at my toes.
I pulled back.
He sniffed the dish once. A second time. Then he stuck his face in and lapped it all up.
I watched as Peter brought the woman an egg carton and accepted her money. She said something to him. He responded.
Rufus was still on his feet, smacking his chops. The coffee and piecrust were gone.
The woman opened the back door to the car, still talking to Peter as she strapped her child into the car seat. Peter nodded, looking toward the house.
She said something else. Peter faced her.
Rufus swayed. He blinked. He swayed again.
Then he lowered himself onto his front paws. He dropped to his haunches.
A second later he was on his side, snoring in chorus with Leslie.
I grabbed the knife off the table. I looked out the window. The woman’s car was gone. Peter was nowhere in sight.
I listened. The house seemed silent. Maybe Peter was still outside.
I tiptoed across the room and flattened myself against the edge of the doorway. The house remained silent but I was afraid to move.
Now would be the perfect time for Ray to show up with his search warrant. But somehow I didn’t think I could be that lucky.
I decided to risk taking a look into the kitchen.
I eased myself around the edge of the door and let one eye take a peek.
The kitchen was empty. The only sound was the tick of a round clock with a rooster on its face. My purse and cell phone lay on the table.
I darted across the room and grabbed them up. I ran for the door, the purse, phone, and knife pressed tight to my chest.
Only a few more feet and I’d be out of the house. My gaze flicked to the window, keeping a nervous eye out for Peter. Too nervous.
I tripped over a shoe and started to fall. I let go of everything I held so that I could use my hands to break my fall.
As my hands and knees hit the floor, the cell phone bounced once and landed inside a rubber boot caked with mud. The knife skittered across the tiles and under a bench. The contents of my purse spilled onto the hallway carpet runner. I lost a few seconds catching my breath.
When I was able, I grabbed my car keys and left the rest of my things on the floor. I leapt to my feet, stopped at the door, and looked out the window.
No one in sight.
I listened. Besides the occasional rustle of leaves from a gust of wind and the distant moo of a cow in the pasture, the day was silent. Nothing to indicate Peter was nearby.
Now was the time to make my break. I took a deep breath, burst through the door, and ran for the Lexus, pumping my arms like an Olympic track star.
I got halfway there.
Hands dug into my stomach as they swung me off my feet. In a second, I was airborne. The keys flew from my fingers and smacked into the Lexus’ windshield. I screamed in fear and despair.
Peter hustled me across the gravel drive toward the barn, holding me two feet off the ground. I kicked and screamed. My heels made contact, drumming his kneecaps. He didn’t seem to notice. I tried to twist my body so I could hit him in the head. He just twisted me back. I was like a bundle of hay to him.
Of course, he was like a tractor to me.
The barn was dark. At first, I couldn’t see anything. My eyes adjusted. I caught sight of stacks of foam coolers, two refrigerators, bales of hay, buckets of all shapes and sizes, and drums filled with farming tools like pitchforks and shovels. Horse stalls lined both sides of the barn. Empty horse stalls.
I kept on struggling, but I was running out of air as his hands squeezed my torso.
He tossed me into a horse stall. I landed hard on my knees. As I scrambled to my feet, he locked the door.
I could see his shoulders and face above the wall of the stall. I was too short to see anything else outside it. The walls were about my height with iron bars that reached three feet higher. It made the perfect jail cell. No way would I be climbing out of here.
Now what? Where are you, Ray? I need you.
Peter said, “You never should have made friends with my brother. No one else wanted anything to do with him. I tried to warn you off. Most people who get shot at tend to stick close to home, not go around butting their noses into other people’s business.” With that, he walked away.
Believe me, I was sorry I had befriended Leslie. But hindsight is twenty-twenty.
When I could no longer hear Peter’s footsteps, I rushed up to the door and pushed on it. I kicked it. It didn’t even wiggle. I reached for the top of the wall and tried to pull myself up to see out. I managed to get an inch off the ground before I dropped. Even at my current light weight, I couldn’t do it. Pull-ups never were my thing, and my muscles were weak from months of inactivity.
I heard the Lexus turn over. Good. Maybe he’ll steal my car and Ray would find me here later.
No such luck. The Lexus pul
led inside the barn. He shut off the engine.
I heard the car door slam and more footsteps. The sound of a creak wafted to my ears from the loft overhead.
A metal trough banged into the bars on my stall. It appeared to descend from the loft. I heard a noise like a garage door lifting. Then another noise like raindrops on a metal rooftop.
Something dropped to the floor at my feet. Corn kernels.
I looked up and watched as a rush of kernels flew off the end of the trough and showered the floor of the stall. They kept coming, covering the floor.
I realized Peter’s plan. He was going to bury me alive!
Heart beating out of control, I scrambled to the wall and tried to claw my way up it again as the kernels poured into the stall. They were a foot deep now. Each time I dropped to the floor, I slipped and slid. I lost my grip on the wall. I realized I was screaming when I sucked in a cloud of corn dust and choked.
The kernels kept coming. The dust made my eyes water and my throat burn. I couldn’t breathe.
I was knee deep now, struggling to move. My legs were mired in corn. My eyes burned.
I gagged. The air was too full of dust and particles. The oxygen was gone. My lungs strained for a breath of air.
Tears welled in my eyes.
The realization hit me.
I was going to die.
My chest felt tight. The pressure on my legs was growing. I couldn’t feel my feet. I kept my eyes closed but my mouth opened involuntarily, trying to suck in air. All I got was a mouth full of corn dust, which made me panic just that much more. I was lost. I love you, Ray.
My fingers clawed uselessly, desperately, at the stall walls.
Then I felt it. The smallest knothole in the wood, maybe big enough for a toehold.
I struggled to lift my right leg out of the kernels. Holding my breath, I bent and unzipped my boot, letting it drop onto the rapidly rising corn.
It took me three tries but I fit my bare toe in the knothole. Summoning all my strength, I heaved myself upward. My big toe cramped but held my weight.
I grabbed the bars, coughing and sputtering. Then I puked corn dust all over my shirt.
My eyes burned when I tried to open them. I gripped the bars tightly with one hand while I rubbed at my eyelids with the other. My tears washed away some of the dust but more came to replace it as the corn kernels kept falling. Soon they would reach my kneecaps at this height, too.