Didn’t he?
Bret and Sandy hurried back down to the car. She was tense and silent as they drove to the village of Esk. Maybe it was her silence that finally caused the suspicion that lurked in the back of his mind to jell, but he felt he had the key.
Sandy.
He shook his head. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. But it was there: the innocence, the loveliness, the sweetness, the tremors and the fear. They were just too perfect to be real. Sandy had been in touch with Rutger Miller. She was bitter about her past. Almost since he had met her, he had felt compelled to watch her closely.
Bret should have kept going up the mountain, but he didn’t. He stopped at the side of the road instead and stared at Sandy. She returned his stare with a frown.
“Bret…?”
“What I want to know, Sandy, is how you managed to kill James MacHowell with Bill Dwyer beside you.”
He half expected a vehement denial. He didn’t get one. She shrugged and whatever vestige of the fragile femme fatale she had still maintained seemed to slip off her shoulders like a cloak. “You haven’t guessed. Bill is in on it.”
That one definitely took Bret by surprise. “Wait a minute! I called Bill.”
“If you hadn’t, I would have,” she said demurely. She smiled sweetly and lifted her purse off her lap to display the small pistol she was carrying beneath it. “Drive, Bret. I think it’s actually your lovely wife who’s proving to be the better investigator.”
“Sandy, you’re not going to…?”
She shook her head. “Bret, don’t tell me I won’t use the gun. You know better than that.”
He turned the key in the ignition. “You don’t need the display of force, Sandy. I’d be driving anyway. I want to find my wife, remember?”
“Well, then, I hope we do find her. Alive, of course, for the time being. I’m sure you two will want a few last words.”
* * *
“I’ve found it!”
Bill Dwyer’s voice was high with enthusiasm. Colleen rushed over to him. He had found some kind of entryway that seemed to go straight into the mountain. It was covered with boards.
“You did find it! But what about the boards?”
“I’ve got a knife here,” Bill muttered. “And the boards are rotting. If I can just—” He broke off, fitting the blade of the knife between the boards. Sweat was beaded heavily on his brow despite the cool air.
Colleen heard a faint creaking in the wood. “You’ve got it! Just a bit farther…”
There was a loud crack. An entire length of wood split in two. Bill slipped his hand through it and felt around. “A bolt! I’ve got it!”
There was another screeching sound that seemed to echo all around them—the old wooden door howling out a protest at being disturbed.
“This is it!” he exclaimed, and he bowed elaborately before her, indicating that she should precede him.
Colleen chuckled jubilantly. “No, Mr. Dwyer, you removed the boards. You go first.”
He shrugged, clutched her hand, and she followed immediately behind him. For long moments they blinked, and then they sneezed. Dust and cobwebs were everywhere, and the daylight barely filtered in through the door. But then it seemed that the dust began to settle, and a little cry escaped Colleen.
It was the place, the exact place in the last puzzle piece. Twenty feet in from the entry there was an old desk. Charts and papers, yellowed and decayed with age, were strewn over it. Ten feet back from the desk was a hatch.
“The oubliette,” Bill muttered. “Are the diamonds down there, do you think? I don’t see anything that looks like a safe.”
Colleen paused for a minute, then sneezed. She could see, but dust particles still filled the air. “I don’t think so…” she murmured. “You see, the picture has the desk in it. I wonder…”
They gazed at one another, then rushed together to the desk. They went through all the drawers and found nothing but more old paper. Frustrated, they stared at one another again. The same idea must have hit them both at once because they started plowing through the drawers again.
Colleen gave out a victorious little cry. There was a lever in the back of a drawer; she pulled it out and found that it gave. And behind the metal wall that held the lever she found a casket. Her hands closed around it as she pulled it out. It was about the size of a short loaf of bread, metal encased with leather.
“Oh, Bill, I think…”
“Let me.” He grabbed the casket. There was a lock on it. He slammed the lock against the desk, and the rusted thing gave instantly. Bill set the casket on the desk and threw the top open.
They gasped simultaneously. The glow of the diamonds streaked across the room, red, blue, gold and every color in between. They gave off a fantastic light. Beautiful. Incredible. Diamonds set in the midst of emeralds. Diamonds set with sapphires. All kinds of diamonds, in all manner of jewelry.
“They’re fantastic!” Colleen breathed. She had to touch them. She picked up an elegant diamond earring and held it up to the light, barely aware that Bill had moved away from her.
“Put it back, please, Mrs. McAllistair, will you.”
She looked up, startled.
Bill Dwyer was behind the desk, one hand on the desktop, the other closed around a gun. A long gun with a fat nose.
“You’ve been after the diamonds?” she asked him in slow and stunned disbelief.
“I’m afraid so. And I’ve spent a number of years in the doldrums of their pursuit.”
She felt too numb, too distant, to really believe him. He looked like the nice guy next door. He couldn’t be leveling a gun at her. But he was.
She shook her head. Her voice didn’t sound at all like her own when she spoke. “You can’t kill me. My husband will come after you. He’ll find you.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” He paused, tilting his head toward the door. “I think he’s already here.”
Colleen’s eyes were riveted on the entryway. He was right; Bret was there. Ducking to get in, then standing straight and blinking. He seemed to fill the small bunker with his presence, and in that moment she thought again how very much she loved him.
He saw Dwyer; then his eyes caught hers across the room. She saw them spark and sizzle with relief, and she wanted to run to him and hold him.
“Ah, McAllistair, you’ve made it,” Dwyer murmured.
And then Colleen was forced to realize that Bill Dwyer was holding a gun and Bret was not.
CHAPTER 13
“Bret!” Colleen gasped, gladness warming her heart. But as instantly as the joy had come, it caught in her throat, strangling her. He wasn’t alone; Sandy was behind him, holding a small pearl-handled pistol to his back.
“Sandy!” Colleen said with more incredulity than fear.
“Really, Mrs. McAllistair,” Sandy said, sounding bored, “who else? Who else deserves the diamonds? They’re mine. My grandfather died for them. My mother suffered all her life for them. I was sick of suffering. I’m not quite martyr material, am I, Bill?”
Bill Dwyer was laughing, seeming to truly enjoy what was happening, as if it were some kind of wonderful joke. “Not a martyr at all, darling. But then, martyrs are so boring.” He waved his free hand in the air, indicating that Sandy should give Bret a prod toward Colleen. She did so, and Bret took Colleen’s trembling body into his arms while surveying the pair.
“You’re right,” Bret told Sandy, sounding so calm and nonchalant that Colleen prayed that some of his strength would seep into her. “It was all so obvious. There were so many things I should have seen. Even when we left your town house, back in the States, you said you needed five minutes for phone calls. Those phone calls were to set Colleen up with Eli, right?”
“Right you are, McAllistair, but a little late.”
“What about Rutger?” Bret asked her.
“I hired a professional,” she admitted, casting Colleen a contemptuous stare. “I’m afraid that, with enough money, you can buy almost anythi
ng anywhere, including murder.”
“You murdered Eli!” Colleen heard herself say suddenly. “When we were at General MacHowell’s, I noticed that your feet were wet. You hadn’t been out looking at the view. You’d been out hunting Eli!”
“Clever child, isn’t she?” Sandy chuckled to Bill. Colleen felt a shudder sweep through her. This was the woman she had thought was so delicate and fragile. So sweet, almost nauseatingly charming. So beautiful. She was still beautiful. Tall and elegant, with sweeping chestnut brown hair. But she was about as fragile as a cobra, and her expression now betrayed that fully. Her eyes were cold and sharp and ruthlessly amused.
“I waited years and years, Colleen, to find a way to retrieve the diamonds and get my revenge. Ah, I can see your all-American mind ticking away, Colleen. Revenge, after forty years? Yes! They all escaped—Miller, MacHowell and Holfer. Only Sam Tyrell died a traitor.” She smiled pleasantly. “I never knew Sam, but I watched my mother’s slow destruction over it all. She was young and weak when my father seduced her, then left her in horror once he had discovered that she was the daughter of the infamous Sam Tyrell. I wasn’t quite so weak. I learned to spend my time planning vengeance.”
“And, of course, there are the diamonds,” Bill Dwyer reminded her quietly.
“Yes, yes, the diamonds, darling, of course! Our little snoop did lead you to them, didn’t she?”
Sandy swept over to Bill, casting a glance toward Bret and Colleen that was almost apologetic, as if she were a hostess forced to momentarily ignore her guests.
Even Sandy gasped when she saw the diamonds. In the dust, in the pale light, the Helmond diamonds glittered and dazzled, catching and reflecting the light. Brooches, necklaces, tiaras, bracelets, all shimmered in their casket lined with black velvet.
“Look at them, Sandy!” Bill murmured with love and awe, running his fingers through the collection of gems. “Plain yellow tints, blue tints, reds and greens, even blacks! Sandy, do you know how rare they are? And look at the way they’re cut.”
Sandy gazed at Bret. “Wouldn’t you like to touch them, Bret? You came so close.” She purred. “You were on to me, weren’t you?” she asked suddenly.
Colleen stared up at Bret. He slipped his fingers through hers and squeezed, pulling her over to the diamonds and gazing down at them while he answered Sandy, still in a calm Colleen couldn’t quite grasp.
“Umm-hmm. I began to doubt you when MacHowell died. It seemed rather convenient.” He picked up a pendant and whistled. “This one stone must be ten carats. And I’d say it was almost a flawless blue, wouldn’t you, Dwyer?” He shook his head, staring at the young man. “You were my problem, Dwyer. I just couldn’t seem to clinch a few things because it never occurred to me that you could be involved. How did the two of you get together, anyway?”
Bill Dwyer scowled. “I don’t have to answer any of your questions, McAllistair—” Bill began, but Sandy cut him off sweetly.
“Bill! Don’t be so gauche! If it weren’t for the McAllistairs we could have spent years digging!” She flashed Colleen a convivial smile. “Bill and I met in college. I told you, I’ve been working on this for a long time! You see, I’d already assumed that the diamonds were in Austria. Bill very carefully pursued his appointment here. We just didn’t have anything to go on.” She laughed. “Rutger, MacHowell and Holfer had done such a wonderful job of disappearing! But then, through his diplomatic channels, Bill learned that Rutger was in the States. I was able to contact him—as the tearful, injured victim, of course—and then I learned that he planned to tell you everything. Well, I was quite upset at first. But then Bill told me about Bret’s wonderful prowess at uncovering things, and we decided that involving you both would be a tremendous plus.”
“Just like having a pair of bloodhounds,” Dwyer said smugly.
“And we did do just about everything for you, didn’t we?” Bret said dryly. “We led you straight to MacHowell and gave you the opportunity to kill him. Then we brought you right to the diamonds. Perfect. Or almost perfect. What about Rudy Holfer and his son, Wilhelm?”
“I can’t handle everything at once!” Sandy protested with a little laugh.
“As soon as we shoot the two of you,” Dwyer said flatly, “we’ll worry about the Holfers.”
“And your managing editor,” Sandy said with a sigh. “He’s a complication I wasn’t counting on.” She gazed at Bill. “And we can’t shoot them all, darling. We don’t dare risk your post until we’re ready to do our own disappearing act. Tahiti is nice, don’t you think, Bret? Though maybe there are too many tourists!”
“I’m sure you’ll think of a lovely place to retire, Sandy,” Bret returned.
“The ski lift,” Bill said suddenly. “We’ll wait until dark, then send the McAllistairs on a one-way trip down the pass. What do you think?”
“Lovely, what shall we do until then?”
“Hell, they’re married!” Bill Dwyer chuckled with a guttural sound. “Let’s let them spend their last hours together, confessing all their sins. We’ll throw them in the oubliette.”
“That sounds lovely,” Sandy said. “How romantic! The doomed lovers can cling to one another until the final moment, and we can sit here and admire our diamonds!”
Dwyer was staring at Bret. “Let’s go, McAllistair.”
Bret laughed. “You just decided that you can’t shoot us. Why should I do anything?”
Sandy smiled, and in that moment Colleen realized how coldly depraved the woman really was. “If you should force us to shoot, Bret,” she crooned sweetly, “we’ll start with your wife. And we won’t kill her right off. Shattered kneecaps are terribly painful. A shot through the abdomen, the kind that can make you die, but oh, so agonizingly slowly….”
Colleen was certain that she was turning a ghastly shade of green. It suddenly seemed that there was no air in the stuffy bunker. She felt as if she would pass out before they could move.
“Where would you like us?” Bret inquired bluntly.
Bill Dwyer walked over to the hatch beyond the desk. “Down, McAllistair. Quickly. Her first.” He waved his gun at Colleen.
“Uh-uh. Me first,” Bret countered.
“Let him go down first!” Sandy snapped. “What difference does it make?”
Colleen clenched her fists together while Bret fitted himself into the hole and climbed down the fraying rope ladder into the black void below.
“Now you,” Dwyer said. He looked at Colleen, his eyes devoid of emotion.
Trying not to shake so badly that she’d lose her grip, Colleen started down. She bit her lip until it bled, knowing why Bret had insisted on going first. The rope was so frayed that it might break at any time; he intended to catch her if she fell. She had no idea if she was near the bottom or not; it was too dark to see anything.
Sandy chuckled above her. “The oubliette, Colleen. A forgotten place for forgotten souls. Enjoy.”
Colleen answered Sandy with a loud scream; the frayed rope had broken in her grasp. She plummeted downward, but she didn’t hit hard cement. Bret caught her weight and broke the fall; they fell to the cold, damp floor together.
“Shall we give them a light?” Sandy asked from far above.
“For what?” Bill Dwyer countered; then the trapdoor was slammed down, extinguishing all light.
Colleen felt Bret’s body beneath her, heard the rasp of his breath as she felt thankful for the warmth and security of his muscled form. His arms moved around her, and all of a sudden tears stung her eyes. She loved him so much. He had always tried to be a step ahead of her, to catch her should she fall.
All their disagreements seemed so senseless now. So foolish. All the petty fights, the petty fears. Blackness and cold were surrounding them. All they had was one another amidst the dank smell and the haunting miasma of past suffering that hung in the air. Whether or not he had ever really loved her deeply, whether or not he would have stayed with her for an eternity, didn’t matter. She suddenly felt that
it was the most important thing in the world for him to know that she had been wrong, wrong not to talk, wrong not to tell him before that she loved him with all her heart, enough to reason, enough to compromise….
Enough to tell him the truth.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Bret!” she wailed.
“Listen, Colleen,” he whispered, sitting up and bringing her along on his lap. Then he stopped and said sharply, “What?”
“Bret, I love you,” she babbled in a feverish whisper, locking her arms around his neck, tenderly caressing the hair at his nape with her fingertips. “I love you so much. I never stopped. I was wrong to file those papers. I just thought that you wanted it. I mean, you walked out. But I—I believe now that you…that you were just determined not to let me get hurt. Bret, I think I’d do anything, anything in the world, to try again. To go back, to start over without all the misunderstandings, to start a family.”
“What?” His arms tightened about her, cutting her words off cleanly. She couldn’t see his silver gaze in the darkness, but she could feel it, narrowed and misted and demanding and tender all in one. “Colleen,” he said hoarsely, “you don’t have children as a part of trying again. You have them because you want them.”
“I always wanted children,” she told him, a little stunned at his intensity, especially since her words seemed rather moot, considering their circumstances. “You were the one who didn’t want them, not with me, at any rate.”
“Then what were you saying that night of the banquet?”
“Only that I hated to be poked and prodded and questioned about my life by nosy people!”
He started to laugh, which also seemed ridiculous, given their present circumstances. His arms tightened around her; he kissed her cheek, her throat, and then found her mouth. His lips were warm and passionate and warm and exuberant against hers. Thrilling and stirring and terribly sad. She was crying again when he released her to pull her back against his shoulder, stroking her throat tenderly with his thumb.
“Oh, Bret! We had it all. Everything. And I threw it away. And now…now it’s too late.”
Double Entendre Page 22