by Jana DeLeon
I felt my pulse beating so hard that my chest felt it would explode. I concentrated on breathing, but it wasn’t helping. I paused for a moment before I reached the edge of the house, trying to get a grip. What was wrong with me? This was my job. This was what I’d done for a living for the past five years, yet I felt like an agent out on my first kill.
Then it hit me like a bolt of lightning. This was personal.
I cared about the people inside that house, which made this the most important mission I’d ever been on. I couldn’t afford any mistakes. Lives that mattered were on the line.
Chapter Twenty
I peered in the back window, but the kitchen was empty. The only light I could see was a dim streak coming down the narrow hallway from the living room. He was probably holding them in there and had only a lamp on. Lack of light gave him the advantage when I entered the house, and he’d have no reason to suspect that I was coming prepared for battle.
He certainly had no idea he’d just messed with the friends of a professional assassin.
Entry on the first floor was out of the question. It was too easy for him to check the downstairs rooms, and climbing through windows wasn’t exactly the perfect position for gunfire—not for the one needing to fire, anyway. As I was scouting the trees in the backyard, the storm that had been threatening to break all day let loose. Lightning flashed across the sky and hit the ground with a deafening boom. The windowpanes clanked as the entire house shook. A second later, rain began pouring from the sky.
I could barely contain my excitement. The storm would hide the minor noise I’d have to make to enter the house. I hurried to a huge oak tree on the side of the house and shinnied up it to the roof. I perched on a branch and waited for the next roll of thunder, then leapt onto the roof. I scrambled to the topmost peak and leaned over the side of the house to pull on the attic window.
It was unlocked!
I lifted the window, took a deep breath, and then grabbed the window frame with both hands. In one fluid motion, I pushed myself over the edge and pulled myself straight through the window, praying that Gertie didn’t have anything sharp or breakable stored beneath it. I landed shoulders first on a stack of cardboard boxes. They split immediately under my weight, but squished silently to the ground, the clothes they contained masking the sound of my fall.
So far, everything had been perfect. I vacillated between hoping it was all meant to be and worrying that my lucky streak was going to run out at the worst time possible. The attic floor presented the first set of obstacles I needed to overcome. The houses were well-constructed but old and creaky.
I pulled off my tennis shoes to reduce the sound of footsteps, but nothing short of the ability to hover was going to reduce my weight on the floor. I waited for the next set of thunder, then hurried across the floor to the attic stairs. I pushed the attic door open and breathed a sigh of relief when the well-oiled hinges didn’t make a sound. The low rumble of thunder was still echoing outside, so I eased down the steps, pausing every time a step made even the slightest creak.
I stopped at the landing for the second floor and put my ear to the door, listening for any activity. I didn't hear a thing. Hoping they were on the first floor, I eased the door open and peeked into the hallway. It was clear.
I slipped into the hallway and glided toward the stairwell, my sock-covered feet silently moving across the wooden floor. At the stairwell, I lay down and leaned over the edge to peer into the living room.
It wasn't good. Ida Belle sat on the couch against the front wall, both her hands and legs bound with rope. She was stiff as a board, and for the first time since I'd met her, she looked disconcerted. Gertie was in a chair in the middle of the room, her hands and legs tied. A dark bruise was already forming across her cheek, and I felt my blood boil at the sight.
Melvin stood in front of her, a shotgun leveled at her head.
“Where is she?” he yelled at Gertie. “You sent that message over ten minutes ago, and she's right around the corner.”
“Maybe she was in the shower or asleep, or not even home,” Gertie said. “If you'd let me call instead of text, I could have found out.”
“No way was I giving you the opportunity to tip her off. If I see any sign of the cops, I'm shooting first and getting the hell out of here.”
“You're not going to get away with this,” Ida Belle said.
Melvin sneered. “You stupid bitch. I’ve gotten away with killing Harvey for five years now. If you broads hadn’t hid the body, Marie would be rotting in prison, and I'd be somewhere in the Bahamas with all my cousin's money.”
“You couldn't have killed Harvey,” Ida Belle said. “You were in prison. Stop taking credit for things you didn't do.”
“Another word from you, and I'll shoot you on principle. I came up with the plan. I found a partner that could carry it out without a hitch. Pulling a trigger is the easy part.”
“So, how do you plan on explaining killing all of us?” Gertie asked. “Don't you think the police will wonder?”
“Oh, that's the best part,” he said with a smile. “After Marie disappeared, I took this shotgun from her house. It has Harvey's name engraved on the side. Everyone will think Marie killed you to keep you from telling she killed Harvey. Her disappearing makes everything perfect. No alibi she comes up with will be good enough for the police now.”
I picked my head back up and took in a deep breath. I blew it slowly out, trying to calm myself and form a plan. Melvin's idea was simple and diabolically accurate. Marie wouldn't have a bit of defense, especially if the three of us, the only people who could provide her an alibi, were dead. Even Marge’s letter wouldn’t hold weight against three bodies and a murder weapon.
The only glimmer of light in the entire mess was the thought that Marge hadn't killed anyone after all. She must have found Harvey’s body after Melvin’s partner did the deed, and thinking Marie had done it, hid the body in the swamp. She left the confession letter, hoping to buy Marie a pass when she died.
I shook my head at the complexity of the situation all these women had created because they all thought another of them had killed Harvey and were all trying to cover it up. With friends like that, you could conquer small countries.
At the moment, I needed to conquer only a small living room…without anyone dying. Unless it was Melvin. My mind flashed back to that bruise on Gertie's cheek. I would enjoy killing Melvin but it would definitely make my situation more difficult. I shook my head. Who was I kidding? Killing Melvin would blow my cover altogether, but I could deal with that later.
First up, I had to get into the living room without Melvin seeing me.
I rolled over onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to think of something that would distract Melvin long enough for me to get into the living room. I glanced at the table above me and saw a large crystal vase. Instantly, an idea formed.
I rose silently from the landing and lifted the vase from the table. It was thick and heavy, and, I hoped to God, not a family heirloom. The other side of the spiral staircase opened up to the formal dining room, located off the far side of the living room from Ida Belle and Gertie. I peeked into every corner of the downstairs rooms that I could see, but there was no sign of Melvin’s partner in crime, Cheryl. Maybe she’d been wise and sat this one out.
I pulled off my socks for better running grip, then heaved the vase over the stairwell and onto the middle of the dining table. Before the vase even connected with anything, I was already back on the floor, leaning over the edge of the stairs. The vase crashed onto the table, and the sound echoed through the house.
The instant Melvin ran to the dining room to investigate, I flipped over the stairs and landed in the living room. Gertie and Ida Belle's eyes widened, but they didn't even flinch, much less utter a sound. Before Melvin could even turn around, I had my pistol trained on him.
“Don't even think about moving,” I said as he spun around to stare at me. “I want you to place
that shotgun on the ground, nice and easy.”
Melvin hesitated for a couple of seconds, and I know he was weighing his options. He must have decided it wasn't worth the risk, because he placed the shotgun on the floor and stood back up with his hands raised.
“You're making a big mistake,” he said.
“Really? It doesn't look that way from where I'm standing.”
I heard the movement in the hallway to the kitchen too late to respond as Cheryl stepped into the living room, her nine millimeter aimed directly at Gertie's head.
“Guess I got here just in time,” Cheryl said.
She looked over at me. “You could shoot me, but I'll probably get one off before you pull the trigger. And before you weigh your choices, I want to tell you that I'm a prison guard. I spend hours at the range each week. I'm not another white-trash fool from this hick town.”
“Yes, you are,” Ida Belle grumbled.
“Shut up, you old hag!” Cheryl screamed. “You two think you’re so important, lording over everyone in this town. I bet people will be glad to be rid of you, even if they wouldn’t say it to your face.”
She motioned to me with her other hand. “Put that pistol on the floor and kick it over to me. No funny stuff or Gertie gets it.”
I hesitated, trying to buy even a second of time to come up with an idea. Relinquishing my weapon was useless as they were going to kill us anyway. The only way we were coming out of this alive was if I could figure out a way to disarm Cheryl before Melvin could grab the shotgun. I glanced at the accent table next to Cheryl and saw Gertie’s knitting basket sitting there.
And an idea formed.
“Hurry up!” Cheryl yelled.
I glanced at Gertie and Ida Belle. They both gave me a small nod. They knew the score as well as I did, and I decided the nod was their way of telling me to take my best shot, even if it was a long one.
I leaned over and placed the pistol on the floor.
“Kick it to me,” Cheryl said.
I took a breath and edged my foot next to the pistol. When I pushed it across the floor, Cheryl looked down, as I’d figured she would, and I launched. Before she could even get fixed on me, I dove for her middle, grabbing a knitting needle from the basket next to her as I tackled her to the ground. She swung her nine around toward my head as we fell to the floor, but before she could squeeze the trigger, I stabbed the knitting needle right through her jugular.
She gasped as blood spurted from her throat, but her grip was still tight on the pistol that I struggled to pull from her grasp.
I looked up in time to see Melvin break out of his shocked stance and dive for the shotgun. Before he reached it, Gertie jumped up from her chair and kicked him right across the face. He staggered back a step, then launched forward and slugged her in the jaw. She went down and he grabbed the shotgun.
As Melvin swung the shotgun up to shoot me, Cheryl finally released her grip on the gun. I yanked the pistol from her hand and fired a single shot through Melvin’s forehead. The shotgun fired as he fell to the floor, but thankfully, the shot went over my head and only took out the chandelier in the dining room. Gertie ran to the kitchen for a knife and cut the ropes loose from Ida Belle’s hands and feet as I checked Cheryl’s pulse. Then Ida Belle cut the ropes from Gertie’s still-bound hands.
Checking for a pulse was a technicality, really. The vacant stare and the mass of blood spread across Gertie’s floor were a clear indication that Cheryl was long gone for this world.
“Is she dead?” Ida Belle asked, rubbing her wrists.
“Yeah.” I rose from the floor.
“How did you get in?” Gertie asked.
“I climbed up a tree and lowered myself in through an attic window. That was some kick. How did you get the ropes undone?”
“I had my legs crossed when Melvin tied me up. He’s stupid. I knew I could slide them off, I was just waiting for the right moment, but my options were limited.”
“And the kick?”
“Oh, that was nothing,” Gertie said. “I see it all the time on those old Bruce Lee movies. I figured we had nothing to lose, right?”
She wouldn’t look me in the eye, and I knew something was up, but before I could ask, I heard a low rumble coming up the block.
I froze. “Deputy LeBlanc! I told Marie to call and tell him you were being held hostage.”
I glanced at the two bodies and a wave of dizziness passed over me.
Shit!
This was so not good. There was no way I was getting out of this without being fingerprinted, logged into the system, and investigated. It would totally blow my cover, not to mention probably cost me my job.
“Run!” Ida Belle yelled.
“What?”
Ida Belle grabbed the pistol from me and fired it into the couch. I stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“You don’t need to be in the middle of this,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie nodded and pulled me toward the back door. "Shove that bloody jacket in my compost pile. Get a good soaking, then try to break in the back door when you hear us let Carter in the front door."
“But how will you explain—”
"We'll figure it out," Ida Belle said. “Go. Now!”
I scrambled through the kitchen, grabbing a butter knife as I passed the counter, then ran out the back door into the blinding storm, shrugging off my jacket as I went. I shoved the jacket into the compost pile in the corner of the yard, then circled around to the back door again. I stuck the butter knife in the doorjamb and pretended to be jimmying the back door.
Suddenly, the door flew open and Gertie looked out at me.
“Where’s Melvin?” I whispered, getting into my role of knowing nothing, just in case Deputy LeBlanc was listening.
“He’s dead. Get inside before you drown.”
I hurried inside and followed Gertie to the living room, where Deputy LeBlanc was frowning down at the two bodies and shaking his head. The table that held the knitting basket and the chair that Gertie had been tied to were both several feet closer to Cheryl’s body. A second chair had been pulled from the dining room and lay on the floor next to the first one, but none of the ropes that had bound the women were in sight.
“Do you know how lucky you two are?”
Ida Belle nodded. “We knew once Sandy-Sue arrived, they’d kill us all. But when they got to fighting over the inheritance, I knew it was our only chance to try something. When Gertie gave me the nod, I waited for the right moment.”
Gertie jumped in. “As soon as Melvin put down that shotgun and came across the room to argue with Cheryl, I knew that was my chance. I grabbed the needle and shoved it in her neck.”
“When Gertie stabbed her,” Ida Belle continued, “I jumped up and grabbed her pistol when she dropped it.”
“Melvin got ahold of his shotgun,” Gertie said, her expression animated, “but Ida Belle clipped him before he got a lock on us. It was just like the county fair, only she wasn’t shooting clay pigeons.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Just like it. Anyway, he pulled the trigger after I shot him. Must have been some involuntary thing, but lucky for us it happened as he was falling, so the chandelier caught the worst end of it.”
Gertie waved a hand. “I’ve always hated that chandelier.”
I stared at the two of them, completely dumbfounded at how eloquently and efficiently they’d fabricated a completely plausible story and then delivered it as if it had really happened that way. This was better acting than any movie I’d ever seen.
I stepped in between them and reached out to squeeze both their shoulders. “I am so glad the two of you are all right. When I got that text, I knew something was wrong. I figured if I knocked on the front door and strolled in, we’d all be in trouble. I was trying to open the back door with a butter knife, but it wasn’t cooperating.”
I stared down at the bodies and shook my head. “The whole thing is unbelievable.”
Deputy LeBlanc sighed. “Welco
me to Louisiana.”
“Ha. Yeah, I didn’t quite count on this much excitement. I was under the apparently mistaken impression that small towns were quiet.”
“It’s a common mistake,” Deputy LeBlanc said. “So, I guess since I received the rescue call from Marie, that she’s returned from yonder hiding place?”
“Jesus, we forgot to call Marie!” Gertie ran off toward the kitchen, no doubt to call Marie and tell her the five-year nightmare was over for good.
“Actually,” I said, “Marie never left. She was sorta living in my attic.”
He stared. “And I’m supposed to believe you didn’t know?”
“I didn’t know. I swear. Not until today.”
“So, was she playing dead? Because these houses do make noise when people move around upstairs.”
I threw up my hands. “Yes, there was noise, but I thought it was the raccoon. And I wasn’t about to go up there again and check after the hassle you gave me the first time.”
His lips quivered just a bit, and I knew he was trying not to smile. “I didn’t hassle you about checking the noise. I hassled you about trying to shoot the noise.”
“Whatever. It translated to the same thing to me.”
“Well, given that last time you shot the roof, I guess Marie was lucky you left well enough alone. So, what’s this text that got you all suspicious?”
I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and showed him the text. “I knew something was wrong because Gertie and Ida Belle know I can’t knit. And since we’d seen Melvin with Marie’s cousin at the Swamp Bar, I was afraid he’d gotten to them, thinking we were onto him.”
“Uh-huh. You three and your investigation are something we’ll discuss at length as soon as I work up the energy. I’m just wondering, though, what if it really was a knitting emergency, and you’d just panicked?”
I shrugged. “Then I would have wasted your time and almost drowned myself for no good reason, but it was a risk I was willing to take.”
The smile broke through. “Well, as that’s one of the only things you’ve done this week that wasn’t illegal, I suppose this is progress.”