Grace to the Finish

by Julie Hyzy

  I followed Jeremy as he made his way over. When he jumped back with a gasp, I jumped and yelped, too.

  “Got a problem with me coming up the stairs?” Oscar asked as he sauntered past Jeremy. “I live here, you know. This is my house.”

  The contractor turned to me as though to ask how to handle this.

  “Oscar, this is one of the people who may be working on renovating the building. He’s a friend.”

  “I’ll decide who’s a friend and who isn’t.”

  I realized I would have to have a talk with my roommates about Oscar’s future behavior.

  “What kind of things are you writing down there?” Oscar asked Jeremy. “Looks like a bunch of nonsense scribbles to me.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Drawings,” he said. He held them up for Oscar to examine. Oscar squinted across the ten-foot expanse that separated the two men.

  “I’m sorry,” I said for the second time. “I’m sure Oscar doesn’t mean to come across as rude. This is new territory for all of us.”

  Oscar folded his arms again, squinting. “I’m not sure,” he said.

  Jeremy shrugged. I didn’t know what to do so I led him down the steps, leaving Oscar alone on the main level.

  Once we’d reached the bottom, Jeremy glanced up back the way we’d come. “You don’t usually come here alone, do you? That guy seems dangerous.”

  “He isn’t,” I said. “Or at least, I never thought he was until today. He’s been through a lot.”

  “Yeah, Bruce and Scott told me about it. I guess we ought to cut him a little slack.” He perched one hand on his hip and surveyed the shadowy basement. “Where does he stay when he’s here?”

  I gestured vaguely. “There are a couple small rooms down that way, including a bathroom and a small kitchen.”

  “How did Oscar get in and out of the building without anyone noticing?” Jeremy asked.

  “There’s an unsecured window behind the Dumpster near the building’s back door. I guess he used it as his own private entrance.”

  Jeremy nodded as though he was imagining the scene. “His own private door, and bedroom, and bath, and stairway.” He laughed. “Probably heaven to a homeless guy.”

  As we made our way over to that end of the basement, I caught sight of Oscar peering at us from around a far corner. He ducked out of sight. My roommates hadn’t yet cleaned away much of the storage detritus. Walls of unidentifiable equipment remained. Atop a table next to the corner where Oscar hid were three bright yellow plastic jugs. Because I hadn’t seen them before, I wandered closer to see what their labels said.

  “‘Detest the Pest,’” I read aloud, gathering these had been left behind by the fumigators. Oscar came around the edge, doing a terrible job of being discreet with his spying. He ducked away again.

  I’d had enough of Oscar’s erratic behavior. “Is there anything else you need to see?” I asked Jeremy. “I’d like to wrap this up before we overstay our welcome. Again, I apologize. I had no idea Oscar would be so adversarial.”

  “Almost done.” He wandered toward the rear of the basement. Oscar had left a door ajar. “This is where he lives?” he asked as he started in.

  “Let’s not disturb his privacy,” I said.

  “Sure, you’re right,” he said, leaning sideways as though to peer inside. “But I would like to get a look at the bathroom facilities. You can tell a lot about a structure by its plumbing.”

  I pointed up. “There’s an identical set directly above these washrooms. We can check those.”

  He turned to face me again, tucking his notebook and pen back into his messenger bag. I started for the stairs but he didn’t follow.

  When I stopped and turned, he held his arms out as though to encompass the whole area. “What else can you tell me about plans for this space?” he asked.

  “I’m sure Bruce and Scott will be able to give you a better description of their vision,” I said. “Have you ever been inside the original Amethyst Cellars location?”

  “Lots of times.” I must have reacted because he said, “Why so surprised? It was a great location.”

  “It was,” I said. “I just wouldn’t imagine that someone who lives as far away as Piedmont Springs would be familiar with the place.”

  “Oh man, you caught me,” he said with a good-natured grimace. “Truth is, I had a girlfriend who lived out here. But that’s not the kind of thing I’m supposed to mention on a first date, is it?”

  First date? Yow. “Good to know,” I said blandly.

  “Yeah, I ought to confess a little more while I’m at it,” he said. “Because it wasn’t that long ago that she and I broke up, and because I spent so much time out here, I actually know a little bit about you. When I heard Bruce and Scott were moving into this building, I introduced myself. I thought it was a perfect opportunity to meet you and find out if all the rumors are true.”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” I said.

  “I don’t,” he said with a laugh. “But I gotta ask because I’ve heard it too many times: Did you really help the police catch a murderer?”

  I caught myself before asking him which time. Nodding, I said, “Yes.”

  “Whoa,” he said. “So you’re like Wonder Woman or something, is that it?”

  I heard Oscar shuffling behind me and a sudden sense of claustrophobia swarmed. “Not even close,” I said.

  “What about the lady who was killed here? I heard you’re helping the police with that one, too.”

  “Very little,” I said. “They’re handling the whole investigation this time. I’m just a tiny cog in the machinery.”

  “That’s not how your roommates explained it.” He laughed. “You’re in the thick of things. Interviewing people every day.”

  “Bruce and Scott told you about the investigation?” That wasn’t like them at all. “What did they say?”

  “Ah.” He waved the air again. “Not much. Can’t remember exactly.”

  “Oh, come on.” I poured on the charm to get him to spill. “They exaggerate sometimes,” I lied. “I’d love to hear what stories they’re spinning this time.”

  “Just a few things.” He took the bait with an affable grin. “About you trying to figure out what Virginia was doing here before she was killed. And who she was with.”

  “I haven’t had much luck,” I said.

  “Yeah. Bummer.”

  “Did you know Virginia?” I asked. “Seeing as how you spent a lot of time in Emberstowne, maybe you met her?”

  “No, can’t say I did.” His quick glance behind me told me that he’d noticed Oscar spying on us.

  “Hey.” This time, when Oscar emerged from the shadows, I didn’t jump. He walked past me to point at Jeremy. “You.”

  Eyes narrowing, Jeremy took a step back, raising both hands.

  Oscar pointed. “My microwave got moved away from the outlet and I’ve got this busted wing. You’re pretty big. Can you maybe move it back for me?”

  Jeremy gave me an amused look. “Sure,” he said. To me, he added, “I guess we get to check out that back room after all.”

  Oscar gestured. “The light’s on the left,” he said.

  Jeremy hesitated. “You first.”

  Oscar took a step farther back. “The microwave is right inside. You can’t miss it.”

  Jeremy took a step toward him. “You aren’t trying to lure me in so you can lock the door behind me, are you?” he asked. “That’s not very polite.”

  Eyes wide and terrified, Oscar slunk farther back. Then, I understood.

  I started for the stairs. “Let’s go,” I said to Oscar.

  But he stood frozen to the spot. “You’re Craig,” Oscar blurted out. “You’re Craig Wexler.”

  Chapter 29

  The man’s mouth split into a wide grin. “It’s Webste
r, actually. But close enough to cause me trouble.” He didn’t take his gaze from Oscar’s trembling form. The tip of Craig’s tongue played at the corner of his mouth as he chuckled. How could I ever have found him even remotely attractive? “You’re sharp,” he said to me. “Unfortunately for you, not as sharp as I am.”

  The nearer, south stairway was a good fifteen feet away. Getting to it would involve sprinting past Craig and hoping Oscar would follow. The other stairway lay more than fifty feet across the basement. I eased sideways, gauging my chances. Surreptitiously, I pulled my cell phone out of my purse, unlocked it with my thumbprint, and positioned it down by my side, intending to speed-dial Rodriguez.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Craig lunged, smacking my arm with such force that it sent my phone skittering across the concrete floor.

  “I’m sorry, Grace,” Oscar said as he steadied himself against a piece of equipment. “I didn’t know for sure. Not until a few minutes ago.”

  “When you recognized his voice,” I said.

  Oscar cradled his arm and whimpered.

  “Too bad for the homeless bum.” Still wearing a smirk, Craig reached into his bag again and pulled out what looked like a power drill with a metal support—like a heavy-duty ruler— running from bit to handle.

  When I blinked, startled, he shrugged. “Nail gun,” he said. “Best I could do on short notice. Killing people isn’t something I do on a regular basis.” He pulled out a handful of plastic tie wraps and threw them toward me. “Why didn’t you just walk away?” he asked. “Why did you have to go digging into my business?”

  “Why didn’t you just leave town after killing Virginia?” I countered. “You had to know the police would investigate her murder.”

  “You think disappearing like that”—he snapped his fingers—“is easy? Relocation takes time and planning. Anyway, I got ties here.”

  I’d edged closer to the south stairs. Maybe I could make it up and out the front door before he took me down.

  He pointed the nail gun at me. His left hand reached up to pinch something on top of the device. “Don’t even think about trying.” He tilted his head toward the tie wraps. “Go on, hook yourself up to that metal pole there.”

  “Make me.”

  Craig arched a brow. “You want to play, is that it?” His left hand relaxed again and he dropped it to his side. “I got plenty of time. I was going to come visit you at your house tonight, sweetie, but your suggestion to meet here was the answer to my prayers.”

  I wished Oscar would try something—anything—to distract Craig long enough for me to make a run for help. The poor man, however, was paralyzed with fear. He sank to the ground, gripping an upright beam for support.

  I’d told Tooney I was in for the night. And now I regretted being in too much of a hurry to alert him to my change in plans. In truth, I hadn’t thought to let him know. Although I had texted Bruce and Scott about meeting the contractor here, the chances of them arriving were slim.

  “Oscar, get up,” I said.

  “I don’t wanna die. Not now. Not when things are finally getting better.”

  “Shut up, you,” Craig said.

  “Why did you beat this poor man up anyway?” I asked. Was I stalling? For sure. My only other option was to give in and give up.

  “Him?” Craig asked unnecessarily. “The paper said he was helping the cops. What other choice did I have?”

  “You tried to kill me,” Oscar said as he stumbled to his feet. “You would have killed me if that lady hadn’t screamed.”

  Thank goodness he was ambulatory again. Maybe we had a chance.

  “I wanted you dead, old man.” Craig lifted a corner of his lip as though disgusted with himself. To me: “How was I supposed to know he couldn’t identify me? I didn’t. I couldn’t take any chances. Like I can’t take any chances today.”

  He took a step closer.

  I took a big step back. Then another.

  “Don’t be stupid.” He continued to move forward as I retreated and stepped closer to Oscar. Closer to the stairs and to cover behind the piles of equipment.

  Craig laughed as he positioned himself between me and escape. “How long do you figure we can keep this up?” he asked. Toeing the tie wraps, he kicked them toward me. “Pick them up.”

  I took another step back, ducking behind the table of plastic jugs.

  “Pick them up now,” he said. And then he brought his left hand up a second time to grip a piece of metal atop the nail gun. Grinning, he drew it backward about an inch.

  Stepping sideways, I was close enough to touch Oscar if I wanted to.

  “I won’t,” I said.

  When indecision clouded Craig’s eyes, I made the choice easy for him. Stretching my leg out, I kicked the tie wraps sideways, sending them sliding along the smooth concrete to gently land at the bottom step.

  The distraction worked as I’d hoped. When Craig’s gaze instinctively followed the moving object, I grabbed the jug of chemicals in front of me and flipped open the cap.

  I sloshed the contents of the jug at Craig. Instantly, my eyes began to tear, but I stole the extra seconds necessary to chug out more liquid, then threw the container.

  Craig bellowed.

  “Run,” I shouted to Oscar.

  I straight-armed the homeless man into motion, shoving him away from the noxious fumes. Grabbing a handful of his shirt, I half pushed, half dragged him down the long aisle of equipment, hoping to make it across the basement and back up another aisle to reach the far stairs before the spreading toxic chemicals caught up with us.

  Behind us, Craig roared. With anger or pain, I didn’t know, didn’t care. We were overwhelmed by the smells of ammonia, sulfur, and sickly sweet lemon. I blinked repeatedly, coughing and fighting the urge to retch.

  I heard pings as nails hit the floor behind us. I knew nail guns were deadly up close, but at a distance they posed less of a threat. The quicker we made it to the stairs, the better.

  We choked our way along the basement wall, Oscar stumbling as we turned the corner. The stairs were still out of sight, obscured by rows of accumulated junk.

  “This way,” I whispered between clenched teeth as I tugged him back up and peered around the corner of the next aisle. Even though we’d put distance between ourselves and the fumes, it still hurt to breathe. A vicious tang filled my nose and a taste of disinfectant coated my lips. My vision blurred as my body struggled to eliminate irritation from my eyes.

  Craig coughed. “You’ve helped me more than you know,” he shouted. He sounded far enough away. I fought to hush my coughing and whispered to Oscar to do the same. If we kept quiet, maybe he wouldn’t be able to figure out exactly where we were.

  “Accidental spill. Toxic fumes,” Craig said loudly. “All I have to do is knock you two unconscious and I’m home free.”

  We picked our way around the collection of junk, making sure the coast was clear before racing to the next hiding spot. I ignored Craig’s taunts. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t worried.

  I could have traveled much faster on my own, but I continued to push and pull Oscar along until, finally, the stairs were no more than thirty steps away.

  I still wasn’t seeing clearly, but it was easier to breathe at this end of the basement. It may have been the fresher air, or the promise of freedom, that inspired Oscar to rally. Suddenly alert, and freshly stable on his feet, he bolted past me and headed for the stairs. I wasted no time hauling myself into his wake.

  We emerged from the aisle and crossed the ten feet of floor before making it to the bottom of the stairs. Our goal swam before my eyes. I sensed, rather than saw, Craig approaching fast from our left. “Go,” I screamed with one hand on Oscar’s back as I launched myself up the steps behind him. My other hand grazed the railing in an effort to keep myself steady.

  Two pings. Three. Nails dance
d up the stairs, clattering as they fell next to my feet.

  I’d made it almost halfway up when Craig grabbed my ankle through the stairway’s metal railings. I lost my balance, tripped, and began toppling backward. My butt hit the corner of a step and I cried out in pain.

  Oscar, ahead of me, turned at the commotion. He, too, lost his footing and then staggered against the rail. He dropped to his knees as I scrambled to right myself. Craig raced around the bottom of the stairs and leaped in front of me. In a smooth motion, he dropped the nail gun and caught Oscar’s good arm with one hand while yanking more tie wraps from his pocket with the other.

  With a grunt, Craig lurched to the side, nimbly attaching Oscar’s wrist to the top of the hand rail.

  With the nail gun out of reach, I full-body jumped Craig, using my fists to beat his face, groping for the soft sockets of his eyes. My own eyes were nearly closed from the fumes’ irritation, and my efforts to subdue Craig proved fruitless.

  He swung at me wildly. “You stupid woman.”

  I sensed he wasn’t able to see well, either. One of his meaty hands clapped hold of my shoulder, shoving me down until a step’s edge bit into my spine. Craig reached for the nail gun with his other hand. When he hoisted the weapon aloft, I screamed, rolling toward my pinned shoulder. My head banged on the stair edge above.

  Craig slammed the gun into the step where my neck had just been. The hit of the gun’s metal bit against wood and the subsequent hissing thunk of a nail sinking into the stair told me exactly how close I’d come to permanent injury.

  Twisting, he grabbed for me again, but my quick movement coupled with the stairs’ unevenness served to knock him off balance. I kicked upward, catching Craig hard in the groin before he could try again to impale me.

  I raked his face with my fingers, catching the hollows beneath his eyes and digging my nails in as deeply as I could. He howled, reaching to pull my hands from his face. The nail gun dropped to the step below, thudding hard.

  With his powerful weight off my shoulder, I rolled upward, away from him. As soon as I broke free, I dropped to sit, slamming both feet against Craig’s side. Groaning with effort, I shoved him down. He grabbed blindly as he tumbled, striving for a hold. I had mere seconds before he’d be back for more.