Macaroni and Freeze

by Christine Wenger

  “No. I didn’t mean to bother you, but I was just looking for some company, and I thought I might beg an invitation from you for coffee or tea.”

  “Um . . . I am really busy. I’m loading up my car.”

  I looked past her and gestured to the floor of her motor home. “I see that you have a lot of things packed. Are you going somewhere, Jill? I hope Ty knows, or he’ll think you’re skipping town.” I said that with a smile on my face, but she knew I really meant that she’d better not incur Ty’s wrath.

  “I’m not going anywhere. These are donations. I’m just getting them in my car and out of the way so I can have more room in here.” She sighed. “But I could use some help, if you don’t mind. Just a couple more trips, and then I’m done and we can sit and talk.”

  I wasn’t born yesterday. These weren’t things to be donated. This was luggage, and there was her red tote bag, which used to contain Priscilla’s unsigned will, but the will was gone now. Maybe she’d destroyed it.

  I casually walked up the stairs of the motor home and leaned against the counter.

  “You have a car, Jill? When did you get a car?”

  “I borrowed Peter’s car. He isn’t going to need it.”

  “Why won’t he need it?”

  Jill remained silent and looked away. Something smelled fishy here on the shore of Lake Ontario, and it wasn’t fish.

  I made my move and knocked over the trash can with my knee. “I am so sorry. I’ll pick everything up.”

  Kneeling on the floor, I scanned the contents as I returned the trash can to its upright position. Bingo! There were pieces of paper with numbered lines on the side here and there. It was the will, torn up. Oh, yes.

  “The cops arrested Peter, but I think you know that already.” I had to tread carefully; she had crazy eyes. “Peter didn’t kill Priscilla. You did. It was as simple as you wanting her money,” I said, looking up from my position on the floor.

  “I wanted to be famous like she was. I wanted to be iconic. Her money would be the means to help me do just that.”

  “And you were tired of living in her shadow?”

  I stood, looking around for something to defend myself with, just in case. I’d had enough experience to know that you could never be too prepared in situations like these. I inched toward the door.

  “Funny. Antoinette Chloe’s money was on Dottie or Kip. I couldn’t decide between you and Peter. By the way, how did you know he wouldn’t need his car?”

  “Because I called and ratted on him. I said that he was planning on skipping town because he killed Priscilla and that he’d booked a flight to Dubai with Priscilla’s credit card.”

  “But you booked him that flight, didn’t you?”

  She shrugged. “It was easy.”

  “How about turning yourself in, Jill? Antoinette Chloe redecorated the women’s cell at the jail. It’s really comfortable now. There’re plush rugs. The toilet’s behind a Japanese screen for privacy. And there’re some menus there for takeout.”

  I was almost to the steps. I just had to turn quickly.

  Then something whacked the back of my head. A frying pan. Luckily, it was a light one—maybe a nonstick one, not cast iron—but it still knocked me to my knees.

  “Don’t move an inch, Trixie!” I felt the cold touch of metal right under my ear. “Put your hands behind your back!”

  “Jill? A gun? What the heck are you doing with a gun?”

  “Shut up! I am so sick of hearing you talk. You are one nosy busybody. You and that nutcase you call a friend.”

  “Don’t you dare call Antoinette Chloe a nutcase! You’re the one holding a gun on me.” And it was longer than life. “Is that a silencer?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  I tried to think, but it was a little hard when my life was flashing before me.

  “Come on. Let’s go, Trixie. We’re going for a ride.”

  “But there’s a snow advisory in effect. No unnecessary travel.”

  “Shut up! If you make a sound, or if you move a muscle, I’ll shoot. I don’t have anything to lose. Now, let’s walk. And make it casual, or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

  My gloves were stuffed in the pockets of my parka, but I didn’t dare put them on. As we hit the snow-covered ground, more water seeped into my sneakers.

  Behind my favorite pine tree, I heard ripping, and then my hands were pulled together. Duct tape.

  “Jill, don’t. Please don’t. Just turn yourself in before you make things worse. I won’t say a word about this.”

  “That’s right. You won’t. We’re going to take a little drive.” She pointed to Peter’s red Mini Cooper rental from the roving car lot. “Let’s walk.”

  When we got to the car, she shoved me into the backseat and tried to tape my ankles together. I didn’t make it easy for her. I kept moving around, and then I slammed my foot against her chest.

  She paid me back with a whack of her gun across my temple.

  Ouch!

  As I was trying not to cry from the pain, she taped my knees together. I was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

  “How’d you get Peter’s keys?” I asked.

  “I asked to borrow his car before I framed him.”

  “Why, Jill? Why are you doing this to me?”

  “I realized that you were in my motor home during your pizza party—and you’ve been awfully nosy. What were you looking for in the motor home, Trixie?”

  “It’s still Priscilla’s motor home, not yours.”

  “Not for long.”

  “Deputy Brisco is here, Jill. He’s not going to be far behind when he realizes I’m gone.”

  “That’s what you think,” she said. “He’s in no condition to help you.”

  My heart started to pound like a drum. “What did you do to Ty, Jill?”

  “I told you to shut up.” She slammed the door, then went around the car and plopped into the driver’s seat.

  “That little frying pan isn’t going to keep him down,” I snapped, thinking of the gun she had with the silencer. “Did you shoot Ty, Jill? Oh, please, tell me you didn’t.” Tears stung my eyes, and I let them fall.

  She laughed, started up the Mini Cooper, and did wheelies and spins out of the parking lot.

  “Be careful with this car. Linda Blessler is working hard for it!”

  “Shut up, Trixie.”

  But I couldn’t shut up. I was surprised she hadn’t duct-taped my mouth, but I wasn’t going to give her any ideas.

  “If you’re going to kill me, I have a right to know what you did to Ty,” I said.

  “You’ll never know. You’ll go to your grave thinking that I killed your boyfriend.”

  I didn’t correct her about Ty and me.

  “When you found out that Priscilla was going to change her will and leave everything to Peter, that was kind of a slap in the face to you, huh?”

  Jill started to cry. “How could she do that to me?”

  “Did you talk to her about it?”

  She sniffed. “She accused me of being a liar and a cheater, and that was why she was going to change her will and leave everything to that fool. And she fired me. Can you believe that? After all I did for her, she fired me!”

  “And that sent you over the edge. When she told you that, you pushed her, and she fell and hit her head on the fire hydrant. And when she was stunned, you choked her with her red silk scarf.”

  “I told you to shut up!” she screamed, and I thought the windows were going to explode out of the Mini Cooper.

  “Did you kill Ty, too, Jill? You’ll get the electric chair for killing a cop.” I held my breath, wanting to know if Ty was dead or not, but on the other hand, I didn’t want to know.

  She threw her head back and laughed. I wished she’d watch the road before she
killed us both.

  I could see that she was driving me to the dead-end area where the village snowplows make U-turns. The snow piles here looked higher than the Rocky Mountains.

  “How did you find this place?” I asked. “Only villagers know about this turnaround.”

  She sighed. “Don’t talk.”

  “Jill, if you’re going to shoot me, I’d like to spend my last minutes talking to someone—even if it’s to a no-good killer like you.”

  “We made a wrong turn with the motor home on our way into town and got stuck here!” Jill shouted. “I thought it would be a good place to drop you off. The plows will be here in a while and will be covering you up with a fresh load of snow. With any luck, no one will find you until the spring thaw.”

  She got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side. Why hadn’t I brought my cell phone?

  It probably wouldn’t work out here anyway.

  With all the anger I could muster over her killing Ty, I tossed myself backward over the seat like a pole-vaulter and stepped on the gas, but all I did was stall the car.

  Sheesh!

  Why on earth would my substitute cook Linda want a standard car? They were more trouble than they were worth.

  And what criminal in their right mind uses a standard shift as a getaway car?

  She pulled me up by the lapels of my unsnapped parka, but I kept on talking.

  “Jill, how could you look at Priscilla’s face and choke her with her scarf? How could you?”

  “It was easy. I wanted to shut her up, just like I want to shut you up.”

  Jill pushed me out of the Mini Cooper, and I fell onto the snowy road.

  “Get up!” she screamed.

  “Like how? It’s not as if I’m physically fit, and this duct tape certainly doesn’t help. Unwrap me, Jill. Come on. We shared a beverage at the Gas and Grab. We had a nice meal at the Silver Bullet together. I invited you to my pizza party. I thought we were friends.” I was stalling.

  “Friends? Are you crazy?”

  “Would you mind snapping up my parka, please?” I asked. “I’m cold.”

  She laughed. “You’re going to be a lot colder.”

  She pushed me, and I hopped like an overweight, out-of-shape rabbit. I fell a couple of times, getting my T-shirt and jeans wet. My sneakers were already big, wet blocks of ice.

  My mittens were in the car, too. Not that I could put them on over the duct tape.

  I was getting madder by the second.

  I hoped that Karen Metonti would see me here before she plowed and would help me. If she didn’t, I’d be buried ten feet under. That is, if the steel of the powerful snowplow blade didn’t strike me first.

  My heart broke when I thought of Ty being shot. He was a tough Texan, but even Ty was no match for bullets.

  “I have a last request,” I said, stalling for time.

  “Shut up, Trixie. You’re giving me a headache.”

  “Jill, would you mind letting me live?” I asked. “I owe my aunt Stella a lot of money.”

  “She’ll get her property back when you’re dead,” Jill replied. “Don’t worry.”

  I heard the sound of duct tape ripping. Jill was going to cover my mouth.

  Oh, no!

  “Are you going to shoot me now? Here?” I asked.

  “No. My gun jammed as I emptied it into Ty Brisco’s chest. Can you imagine? He was watching the motor home, but I was too smart for him.” She sniffed. “I have something else in mind for you.”

  Tears dripped down my face. I figured they’d turn into icicles if I stayed out here long enough.

  “You’re a coward and a cheater and a killer.”

  She slapped the duct tape over my mouth, and my eyes watered even more from the pain.

  “Like I care what you think.”

  She pushed me, and I fell like a giant redwood into the mountain of snow. Then she rolled me into the valley, where no one would see me.

  As if that weren’t enough, she buried me with more snow. I struggled like a beached trout in order to breathe. Then I tried to flip over onto my back and sit up, but with my parka half off my arms and me being duct-taped more than any ducts in North America, I couldn’t move.

  I screamed in frustration, but nothing came out.

  The ignition fired on the Mini Cooper, and I heard it drive away. Then there was deafening silence.

  I don’t like death, and I didn’t like to think about it. I can’t really handle it—well, who can?—but I didn’t want to die frozen in a glacier of filthy road snow and then bashed by the blade of a snowplow. I struggled to get out, but I was like a giant turtle trying to slosh through quicksand.

  The only things moving were my teeth chattering.

  If there’s ever a Jeopardy! question that says, “Believe it or not, your teeth can chatter through this sticky substance,” the answer is: “What is duct tape?”

  But somehow I was able to breathe—not much, but I could breathe. I didn’t know for how long.

  And then I saw lights flashing and heard the unmistakable noise of the snowplow getting closer and closer.

  I swear, if Karen Metonti hit me with her snowplow, she would never get free donuts and coffee from my diner again.

  My eyes were closing, closing. I was just so tired and cold and sleepy. I couldn’t keep them open, couldn’t think.

  Far away I heard a dog bark. It sounded like Blondie, but that was crazy. My Blondie was home. Home. I’d never see my pup again. I’d never see the Big House again or my cottages. Or Lake Ontario. I’d never cook at my diner again.

  I didn’t fight the sleepiness, but closed my eyes and let it wash over me. It felt as if I were floating. There was no cold . . . no shivering.

  And there was silence.

  All except for that infernal barking dog.

  I heard whimpering and scratching at the snow. It sounded like Blondie.

  Leave me alone. I’m tired.

  It was Blondie! I heard digging and scratching at the snow. Then she licked my face, my neck, back to my face. She barked several times, and then I heard the low, deep voice of Ty Brisco.

  Ty was alive! He was alive!

  “Trixie, thank God.” He paused. “You’re safe now, Trixie. You’re safe.” With his bare hands, he dug me out more.

  I cried with joy. Ty was alive! The extra moisture turned my face into an iceberg. I shivered like crazy.

  “Good job, Blondie,” he said. “Trixie, I’m going to call you an ambulance—just as soon as I cut this duct tape.”

  He pulled out a big jackknife from the recesses of his navy blue uniform jacket and started hacking away at the tape on my wrists.

  I felt the relief immediately on my shoulders and rubbed my wrists to get the circulation going again. Then I stood still as Ty quickly got rid of my parka and had me put on his jacket.

  He hugged me close to him. Nice.

  The coat might have been toasty warm, but I couldn’t feel it yet. It did have the scent of his aftershave clinging to it, which I couldn’t enjoy since my teeth were back to chattering and my whole body was shaking. I pulled the tape off my mouth, and I chattered and shook in stereo.

  I hugged him close to me. “I am so glad you’re alive, Ty. Jill said she shot you!”

  “She did. Four times. Then her gun jammed. She got the jump on me as I was doing surveillance on the motor home. I figured she was ready to skip town, so I was watching her. She shot me as I got out of my truck to stop her from leaving. Dumb mistake. Luckily, I was wearing my Kevlar vest, but the shots knocked me out for a while. I hit my head on a rock or something. Long story short, Linda Blessler happened to be looking out the kitchen window and saw her future Mini Cooper doing wheelies and spinning out of your parking lot. I followed the car tracks in the fresh snow to here. Blondie did
the rest.”

  I was still unsteady on my feet, so he half carried me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ty’s black SUV blocking the road, a red light clamped to the roof of it, spinning. One of the town’s snowplows had stopped, and Karen Metonti was running toward us.

  “Trixie?” she asked.

  “Call an ambulance, Karen. I’m sure she has frostbite.”

  “You got it, Ty.”

  “What about the b-b-bad guy?” I tried to ask.

  “Jill is in custody.”

  “H-how?”

  “Get in my truck and get defrosted, and I’ll tell you about it.”

  We got into his car, he blasted his heater, and he hugged me close to him as I shook. It took too much energy to do that, and I just wanted it to stop.

  “She was easy to find in that red Mini Cooper. On these snowy and icy roads, she could go only about twenty miles an hour.”

  I yawned. I was fading—shaking, chattering, stuttering, and slurring my words. “Blondie’s a great dog, Ty. We share a great dog.”

  “You did a great job figuring all this out, Trixie. Too bad you almost turned into roadkill in the process. Why won’t you ever just let me handle things?”

  “She planted Peter’s cell phone. Then she booked him on a flight to Dubai and Vern and Lou arrested him.”

  “I know. We’ll sort it all out later.”

  I heard the siren of the ambulance getting close. “You know, Ty, I feel really sorry for Priscilla. She had Alzheimer’s and wanted love from Peter, but all he wanted was to keep gambling. And Jill used her.”

  I could barely get the words out, I was shaking so hard, but I had to fill Ty in.

  The ambulance driver, Lonnie Cancillo, called Ty on his radio. “Ty, I just got word from the State Highway Department that Route 81 and Route 11, both north and south, are closed due to the blizzard. So is the Thruway. We can’t get to the hospitals in either Syracuse, Watertown, Oswego, or Utica, Ty.”

  “I’ll take her in my SUV to Syracuse,” he said. “Go back home, Lonnie. I’ll take it from here.”