I was seated on a folding chair, my hands tied behind my back, my feet tied to the bottom rung of the chair. Though I couldn’t see the details of her situation, I assumed Debra was in the same predicament.
“Where is he?” I asked, my speech slurred as if I’d been drugged.
“He brought me here and then he went to get you. Now he’s back with his adoring fans.”
“Are you the woman who posted bail money for Zoe Howard the other day?”
Clack, clack, clack.
“Yeah, that was me. He bought me a nice dinner and a new outfit. He said he’d take care of me if I just did that one errand. He gave me a lot of money and a plane ticket after I did it.”
The room took a spin around me as I made an attempt to get up from the chair. No use.
“You okay?” Debra asked.
“Yes, as okay as I can be.” I stretched my neck and arched my back as far as it would go. “Is Debra your real name?”
“Yeah. I admit it was nice to clean up my old expired driver’s license and be a real person again. Even though the address on it is now an empty lot.”
If I weren’t so limp, I’d have hugged Debra and told her she was as real a person as anyone. I heard myself try to say something to that effect, but I was too sleepy to pay attention even to my own slurred words.
“Why didn’t I leave town right away?” Debra asked, shaking her head. I imagined her trying to go back twenty-four hours and make different choices. “I’ve been asking myself that question over and over.” She jerked her body, causing the chair to slip. She almost tipped over backward. “I had to take a chance to live in my own town like a normal person. Like buying doughnuts for my friends, you know.”
The work area was dark and deserted, of course—all the artists and everyone else who worked in Rutledge Center were at city hall.
“What’s he going to do to us?” I asked Debra. In the back of my mind, since she got here first, she was the knowledgeable one.
Debra moaned. “When he comes back, he’s going to kill us. I just know. We have to get out of here. He told me the whole story, you know, Ed did. He called that artist a little twit. He lured him to the studio that night by promising to make him famous. He took a knife from the guy’s own tool box figuring his girlfriend’s prints would be on it. He told me everything. He has to kill us.”
You’ve already said that, I screamed inside my head.
Debra swayed back and forth as she talked, her hands bound behind her. A sad sight. Like me. I couldn’t recall ever feeling so depressed. If Ed told Debra all those details, he couldn’t possibly just put her on a plane to Paris. Or send me back to my family and my life.
I wanted desperately to go to sleep. The room was dark, suggesting bedtime. I closed my eyes.
“Wake up, wake up. You can’t fall asleep.” Clack, clack, clack. “I was way over there when he brought me here.” She tilted her head in the direction of the back of the hall. “But when I saw you, I starting pushing myself toward you.
I thought we could untie each other if we can get close enough.”
“I’m exhausted,” I said. “And I can’t move.”
“You can’t give up,” she said. “You’re the smart lady. You have to get us out of here.”
My senses came alert when a creature flew high over our heads. I wouldn’t let myself think about what it could be. I smelled the musty, dusty floors of the work area and felt the thick, scratchy ropes on my hands and feet.
If I was so smart, what was I doing here?
Debra wouldn’t give up. Having had a longer time to overcome whatever Ed had drugged us with, she seemed to have enough energy for both of us. By the time I woke up again, she was in front of me, prodding my knees with hers. She’d crossed the entire expanse of the warehouse-like room, a couple of clacks at a time, lifting her body and inching forward.
If she could do that, with not much to live for except a hot meal in a soup kitchen once a day, I could certainly do my part.
I assessed the situation. I couldn’t see the ropes that bound me, but with some maneuvering, we got Debra’s chair turned around and I could see hers. Ordinary rope, it seemed, but with a very tight knot.
“He might think we’re still drugged,” Debra said. “When he came back with you, I flopped my head down so he’d think I was knocked out.”
“Good for you.”
“When do you think he’ll be back?” she asked.
“There’s a cocktail party for the artists after the debate.” A gathering I was invited to, as Mary Lou’s guest. I wondered what my family were thinking. Had they gone into action to find me? They would know I wouldn’t deliberately miss the event and not call them. “Maybe he’ll stay for the party,” I said.
“I’m sure he’ll stay for that,” Debra said. “He’s so vain and hungry for fame.”
“You seem to know him well.”
“We go back. Ed doesn’t miss an opportunity to tell me how I screwed up my life. Then he comes along and offers me a way to fix it. How stupid could I be?”
“You can’t blame yourself. I’m sure he was convincing.”
“Yeah, convincing. So how much time do we have?”
I couldn’t see my watch, but the face of the old clock in the work area was dimly backlit. It read eight o’clock. The debate was almost over. Mary Lou, Richard, and Maddie, along with my friends and neighbors would be listening to Stephen Douglas in his final half-hour rebuttal.
“The debate will be over in a half hour. Then who knows how long he’ll stay at the cocktail party.”
“We have to get to work,” Debra said.
With what? Ed had either kept my purse or destroyed it already. It was clear that Debra was empty-handed and the workbenches had been cleared of tools and supplies.
There must be something. “Okay, let’s think about what we have to work with.”
“He emptied all my pockets,” Debra said.
As far as I remembered, Ed didn’t do that with my pockets, unless it was while I was asleep. It was worth the effort to find out. My miniature tool kits were all in my purse, but now and then I dropped a small implement into my pocket for temporary storage.
Like this afternoon, when I used my small scissors to trim a tree in my debate scene? Had I dutifully returned the scissors to its case in my purse?
Lucky for us, I’d been lazy. Debra performed amazing contortions, digging into my sweater pocket and finally extracting the scissors. They were blunt nosed, and it might take forever to cut through rope with them, but it was our only chance.
We worked by the light of a single streetlight in the parking lot, aided slightly by a small nightlight on the wall next to us. It seemed to take hours for Debra to extract the scissors from my pocket, and then more hours for us to position ourselves so that she could work with them.
We decided using the blades like a saw would be best since the ends had safety tips, uselessly round. It would be tricky to hold the scissors open and saw, what with her hands being tied up behind her.
Tricky? Impossible, I thought, but I hated to be the one to give up.
At one point Debra dropped the scissors and endured what must have been excruciating pain as we cooperated to throw her and her chair down on the floor to retrieve them and then get her upright again. It was the first time I got a good look at her face and saw that it was badly scarred. Someone with as tough a life as Debra must have had didn’t deserve this kind of end.
I checked the clock again. Five minutes to nine. Why didn’t someone think to come looking for us? On the other hand, why would anyone look for me here, or Debra at all?
We heard a car pull up, saw its headlights through a sliver of unshaded window, and held our breath.
“Should we scream for help?” Debra asked, still looking to me to make decisions.
“No,” I said. “If it’s help, they’ll come in anyway, and if it’s Ed . . .”
“Then we should pretend to be knocked out. But I’m al
l the way over here, so he’ll know . . .”
The car left before we had any more discussion. We blew out air in a long rush.
Debra had continued to work without stopping and now was ready for an announcement.
“I’m getting it, I’m getting it,” she said. I felt a pang of sadness as she sounded like Maddie. “I got it!”
It all happened at once. My hands were free. I undid Debra’s knot, which had loosened from all her work with the scissors. Once our feet were free, we ran to the door as quickly as our bruised and stiff limbs could take us.
We opened the door and saw Ed Villard, a startled look in his eyes. With great synchronization born of fright and adrenaline, Debra and I used our four newly freed hands to push him down the short flight of concrete steps. He hit hard, his head smashing into the metal railing at the bottom. We stepped over him and ran out to Hanks Road.
Just in time to be blinded by the lights from what seemed like the entire Lincoln Point motor pool.
The first cop to exit a car was Abraham Lincoln.
“Skip?” I asked. Was the drug kicking in again?
When my head cleared enough, I saw my nephew dressed as Abraham Lincoln. Without our knowing he was trying out, he’d gotten the role in the debate. How had I missed that? In my near stupor, I thought about all his recent recitations of Lincoln trivia and about the bow tie on his bulletin board. He’d said it was from the Mary Todd Ball. If I’d been paying attention at the time, I’d have remembered that he went to the ball in December as an early Pinkerton guard. He’d worn a uniform, with a dark shirt buttoned to the neck and a dark jacket, also buttoned high on the neck. No tie.
He grinned and said he forgave me for missing his great performance.
The paramedics were ready to whisk Debra off to the hospital for a checkup, and then to the shelter.
“We did good, didn’t we?” she said to me.
“We certainly did, Debra,” I said.
She smiled, revealing uneven, uncared-for teeth. “Debra. I guess I could be Debra again, huh?”
I hugged her and promised to visit her in the morning. I hoped I’d be able to do more than visit in the future, to help her become Debra again. I wondered if a good lawyer would be able to make a case for her getting the money Ed promised her.
I rode home in the Porter SUV, snug in the back with Maddie flung over me as far as she could and still stay belted. I brushed her curls back and felt her tears.
“I was so worried, Grandma.”
“I missed you, too, sweetheart, but everything’s fine now.”
“Do you know it was Maddie who thought of the Rutledge Center?” Mary Lou said.
“Is that right?” I asked my brilliant granddaughter. I smoothed her hair and kissed her head.
“Uh-huh.” Her voice was muffled, coming as it was from a mouth buried deep in my sweater. She tightened her hug. I had a feeling she would have said more if she’d been willing to let go of me.
“We gave you an hour’s grace, in case you had a flat tire or something, but by eight o’clock, every car was on the street looking for you,” Richard said.
“Except for Skip,” Mary Lou said. “He still can’t believe he missed all the action.”
“And I missed his action on the stage.”
“Maddie made us call dispatch and route one car to the work area and one to the TV studio,” Richard said.
“Wow, wow,” I said.
Chapter 26
On Wednesday, we got our final postcard from Beverly and Nick. It read, “I’ll bet things are quiet without us. We’ll be back soon to stir up trouble!”
We all hoped not.
On Friday, I received a note from Ryan Colson with an apology for not following up with me (he didn’t say about what) and a thank-you for not disclosing his meeting with his friend (he didn’t say what kind of meeting or who the friend was).
On Saturday, I received a note from Zoe Howard thanking me for all I did to clear her of the charges and inviting me to dinner at a restaurant of my choice. I picked the Carnelian Room at the top of San Francisco’s tallest building, where there were no prices on the menu. On second thought, I decided Bagels by Willie would suit me more.
I had no word from Rhonda Edgerton, or whatever she was calling herself now, but I assumed she was recovering peacefully at home in Chicago.
By Sunday, the Porters, except for me, were all packed for their move to their new home in Palo Alto. Larger pieces of furniture had been put in storage, but the SUV and the convertible both were piled with odd sizes of luggage, boxes, and garment bags.
They’d be back for a family party on Tuesday, but for me, this was the farewell.
Skip and June were in my driveway for the send-off.
“Did you know Grandma’s going to be on TV again?” Maddie asked Skip. “Mrs. Browne is going to interview her on Channel 29.”
I heard a gasp from Skip. “On what topic?” he asked, sounding much too nervous for a matter this unimportant.
“My dollhouses and room boxes of course. She’s trying to make up for lying to me about knowing Brad Goodman. I guess she feels the case would have been solved sooner if she’d been truthful.”
“Oh, right.”
“What did you think she’d be interviewing me about?”
Skip let out a long breath. “Nothing.”
I peered at him, using my best mind-reading techniques, learned through years of dealing with adolescents who wanted to speak anything but the truth. “Ah. You thought it was going to be on my crime-solving skills.”
“Nah.” His smile said otherwise.
“What shall we do for our next room box?” Maddie asked as I leaned in to kiss her good-bye.
I knew that, like me, she wanted a specific task for her regular visits to Lincoln Point. I’d already consolidated some of my crafts boxes so she’d have more space in the corner bedroom. I thought how happy Ken would have been to see our granddaughter take over our son’s room with such ease.
“How about a flower shop?” I suggested.
“Nah, nah. That’s boring. I was thinking of a police station with an office like Uncle Skip’s.”
I knew that.
Gerry’s Miniature Tips
MINIATURE TIPS FOR DRINKS
Miniature mugs and cups are easy to find, not only in crafts stores but in card shops and other “gifts and things” stores. They often are personalized, so this is a perfect way to add just the right touch to a scene you’re giving as a present to a friend.
To make a mug of coffee, simply fill with brown paint.
To make a glass of wine, fill with red paint.
And so on!
MINIATURE TOP HAT
You can easily make a pattern for a top hat yourself. Start with four simple pieces: two cut in doughnut shape, one long rectangle, and one circle.
Use felt or other stiff fabric.
Glue the two doughnuts together fuzzy side out, if applicable. This will be the rim of the hat.
Curl the long rectangle into a cylinder for the body of the hat. Glue the cylinder to the rim. Glue the circle onto the cylinder to form the top.
These last steps are tricky. The easiest way to do them is to use a small puddle of glue. Dip one edge of the cylinder into the glue and place the gluey end on the rim. Hold the pieces together for up to a minute while the glue begins to set. Do the same with the other end of cylinder, placing the gluey end on the circular top. Hold the whole arrangement together (gently) until you’re sure the pieces won’t fall apart.
Gerry’s Ginger Cookie Recipe
1 cup sugar (Gerry doesn’t skimp on sugar!)
¾ cup butter, softened
¼ cup chopped crystallized ginger
¼ tsp. nutmeg
¼ cup molasses
1 egg
2⅓ cups flour
4 tsp. grated ginger root
2 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. ground ginger
½ cup shortening
&nbs
p; dash salt
extra sugar for rolling
Heat oven to 375°. Mix sugar, butter, crystallized ginger, nutmeg, molasses, and egg in large bowl. Stir in remaining ingredients, except extra sugar.
Shape dough into small balls (approximately one inch); roll in extra sugar. Place a couple of inches apart on un-greased cookie sheet and flatten slightly.
Bake 5 to 8 minutes or until edges are set. Remove from cookie sheet and cool on wire rack.
Makes about 5 dozen cookies. (No nutritional information is available. If you have to ask, you shouldn’t eat them.)
Malice in Miniature Page 27