A Deadly Edition

by Victoria Gilbert

  “He helped me avoid jail. I suppose that’s something,” Adele said, thoughtfully. “And I imagine it’s one of the reasons he’d do almost anything to protect me now. Maybe Dalbec knows about Kurt’s involvement in selling my dad that awful book and chose me as a hostage for that very reason.”

  “Kurt undoubtedly feels he owes you.” I frowned. “Not long ago, Dalbec came to Highview and attacked Kurt. I suspect he may have wanted to kill him but couldn’t manage it then.”

  Adele’s eyes widened. “You think he plans to do so now, by luring Kurt out here?”

  “With us as bait. I bet Dalbec plans to stab him and then disappear before anyone realizes what’s happened. Dalbec could send a message for him to come alone or else, and Kurt would agree.”

  “To keep us safe.”

  “Right.” I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. “Dalbec has a getaway car he can reach by escaping through the woods. But only we know that, and by the time we’re freed, it might be too late to catch him.”

  “And we’re stuck in here, unable to see anything,” Adele said in a defeated tone. “All we’ll have is our suppositions if Dalbec does kill Kurt. We can’t be true eyewitnesses, which means he could get away with it.”

  I crossed to the front wall. “Not if we can find a way to see out that window. That’s crucial. And not just to see what happens, but also to warn Kurt before he gets too close.”

  Glancing over at the well, I considered my options. If I climbed onto the rim of stones, I might be able to gain enough height to peer through the front window. Unfortunately, that meant balancing on a narrow ledge of mossy stone, and I knew the slippery surface could prove treacherous. One wrong step could send me plummeting into the darkness yawning below. Not a prospect I relished, especially with my past history.

  But I had to try. I didn’t want Kurt Kendrick to be harmed while protecting me.

  I smiled grimly as I kicked off my shoes. I’d never been sure how I felt about the enigmatic art dealer. Sometimes he seemed like family, sometimes an adversary. Sometimes I thought he was my guardian angel, and sometimes I didn’t trust him at all.

  But whatever my feelings, I had to admit that the last thing I wanted was for him to die.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  With Adele providing a steadying hand to help me balance on the rim of the well, I was able to lean forward and grip the iron bars that formed a grille over the open window. Looking out, I caught the glint of sunlight flashing off a knife blade as Dalbec lifted his hand at the thud of approaching footsteps.

  It was Kurt, strolling up to the other man with a nonchalance belied by the stoniness of his expression.

  “Kurt, be careful!” I shouted, before Dalbec told me to shut up if I wanted to live.

  “That seems unnecessarily rude,” Kurt said, as he faced off with Dalbec. “Although I don’t suppose good manners are really your strong suit.”

  “You can shut your trap too,” Dalbec said, slicing his knife through the air. “I’m not alone in this, you know. I can signal for backup any time. So don’t think you have an advantage.”

  Kurt’s predator smile held no humor. “I’m not surprised you aren’t alone in this. You couldn’t manage to kill me by yourself last time, so …” He shrugged his broad shoulders.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, old man. I would’ve finished you off that day if I hadn’t heard someone at the door. I only left you alive because I’m not stupid enough to risk getting caught in the act.”

  “Stupid enough to try again, though, after I’ve already informed the authorities about your first attack.” Kurt casually adjusted the cuffs of the lavender shirt he was wearing under his ivory cotton sweater. “I hope you have a solid getaway plan, since you are now definitely on their radar.”

  “Don’t worry, they won’t catch me.” Dalbec pointed the tip of the knife at Kurt. “Anyway, you’ll never know one way or the other, as I’m afraid you’re going to be quite dead soon.”

  Kurt’s bushy white eyebrows arched. “You intend to stab me? I doubt you can actually overpower me with that little penknife.”

  “Like I said, I have backup. And they have a gun. But I want to give this method a try first. Seems only fitting, since you murdered my father with a knife.”

  “Murdered? Not quite. It was self-defense, after he came at me during what should’ve been a civil conversation.”

  “Don’t give me that. You sought him out to strong-arm him into following your demands.”

  “If you mean to stop him from selling drugs to my friend, Andrew Talbot, then you’re correct.” Kurt’s sardonic expression morphed into a fierce glare. “I warned your father, several times, before I attempted to convince him by more … physical means.”

  “Convince him to do what? Not pursue his own business interests? Which was really hypocritical, since you sold drugs yourself.”

  “I did, although unlike you and those I suspect you’re now in league with, I no longer do so. But even back then I never tried to push a recovering addict to resume his or her habit.” Kurt’s hands, hanging at his sides, clenched into fists. “Andrew was finally clean. He desperately wanted to stay that way, but unfortunately, he was still too fragile to resist your father’s blatant temptation. Offering him a free taste to get him hooked again or whatever else it took—despicable.”

  Kurt spat out this last word with such vehemence that Dalbec took a step back. “So because your friend was so weak willed, you decided to kill my dad in cold blood. Leaving me fatherless at age eight, and plunging my mom and me into poverty.”

  “As I said, I didn’t plan to kill your father. But when he lunged at me with a knife”—Kurt shrugged again—“what could I do except turn it back on him? Anyway, I know for a fact that he’d already abandoned you and your mother, so don’t give me the grieving-son act. He’d been living with another woman for a couple of years before his death. The very woman I suspect you’re partnering with in this little escapade.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t think you’re going to throw me off my game with that news. I know all about Esmerelda and my dad. She’s already explained the whole situation to me.”

  “Quite convincingly, I imagine. She always had a gift for twisting words to her advantage.” Kurt looked Dalbec up and down. “What did she tell you? That they were just business partners and he only got in the drug game to make the money for his family?”

  “It’s the truth,” Dalbec said, but I noticed the hand gripping the knife wavering slightly.

  “If you say so. At any rate, I suppose I can imagine why you’d want to kill me, for revenge if nothing else. But why’d you dispatch Oscar Selvaggio? He wasn’t mixed up in your father’s death.”

  Lance Dalbec sneered. “Shows what you know. I didn’t kill that thief. Which he was, so don’t try to paint him as some legitimate businessman. He sold stolen artwork to plenty of people without a qualm.”

  “Including your partner? That does explain a few things.” Kurt unclenched his fingers and shook out his hands. “Foolish old Oscar. I knew he dealt in items with questionable provenances, but to sell them to someone like Esmerelda was a dangerous proposition. I assume that’s why she wanted him dead?”

  “Of course, but like I said, I didn’t kill him. She had someone else lined up for that little job.”

  Glancing down at Adele, I said, “Well, that clinches it. Given all the facts, I think it had to be Honor Bryant.”

  She tightened her steadying grip on my leg. “Why do you say that?”

  “Brad Tucker told me that Honor had a drug problem in the past and owed Esmerelda, or at least one of her dealers, a lot of money. I expect they used that fact to blackmail her into poisoning Mr. Selvaggio.”

  Adele shivered. “That poor girl, driven to such extremes. And yes, I hated the man, but I wouldn’t have wished that fate on him. Even if I did try to shoot him that one time.” She looked up at me with an abashed expression. “I wouldn’t have gone through with it, I swear. I wasn’t
in my right mind at the time, but even so, I really just wanted to frighten him.”

  “I know,” I said, ashamed I’d ever thought of her as a possible murderer. “Wait—I think Kurt’s asking Dalbec to prove that we’re okay.”

  “If you bring them out, unharmed, I will turn myself over to you,” Kurt said.

  Dalbec snorted. “Like I trust anything you say.”

  “I think you’ll have to, if you want your revenge. Let Amy and Adele go, and you can have me without a fight.” Kurt’s tone was as unyielding as granite. “Or we can wait until the sheriff’s deputies arrive, which I suspect they will, sooner rather than later. I know they’re watching the estate for any strange occurrences, if only from afar. I imagine if I were to shout loud enough …”

  “All right, I’ll bring them out. But if you move one inch, or make any sound, at least one of them will die.” Dalbec pantomimed the slice of his knife across a throat.

  Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. “Understood.”

  “Help me down,” I said to Adele, slipping on my shoes as the padlock rattled.

  Dalbec threw open the door and marched in. Grabbing Adele by the arm, he shot me a warning look. “Try to run or scream or anything like that and I cut her. Get it?” He pressed the knife against Adele’s throat.

  I swallowed back an epithet and nodded.

  “You stay close,” he told me as he hustled Adele outside.

  The glare of the sunlight made me blink as we walked out of the woods to face Kurt. “Sorry,” I mouthed at him.

  He gave me a warning shake of his head. “Now let them go,” he told Dalbec.

  “Not until you walk into the well house.”

  Kurt dropped his arms to his sides. “That isn’t the deal. How will I know that you won’t harm them once you lock me in?”

  “You won’t. But it’s really their only chance, I’m afraid.” Dalbec slid the knife across Adele’s bare neck—not cutting deep, but still raising a thread of blood.

  “Lower your blade first.” The naked anger in Kurt’s face was something I’d seen only once or twice before. It was just as terrifying this time.

  “Walk in that building and close the door behind you. I’ll let these two go before I deal with you.”

  “No you won’t,” said another voice.

  I cast a quick glance at the edge of the woods, where a woman stood, surveying the scene.

  It was Cynthia Rogers. Puzzled over why she’d been lurking in the woods, I debated whether I should shout a plea for her to run and call for help, but the knife at Adele’s throat silenced me.

  And, I thought, as realization widened my eyes, Dalbec said his partner was watching from the woods …

  And Cynthia Rogers is the right age to have been a contemporary of Kurt back in the ’60s. I swallowed back a hysterical bark of laughter as I realized the truth.

  Cynthia Rogers—the talkative, inquisitive, but pleasant tourist—was Esmerelda.

  “Ah, there you are,” Kurt said, his expression once again filled with sardonic humor. “I wondered when you’d show up.”

  I looked from him to the gray-haired woman and back again. “She’s Esmerelda, isn’t she?” I said, before I could stop myself.

  “Yes, although I didn’t immediately recognize her when she showed up in Taylorsford. Too many years have passed, and the alteration in her appearance …”

  “I cut my hair,” Cynthia Rogers, aka Esmerelda, said, strolling forward until she was standing in front of Lance Dalbec, Adele, and me, directly facing Kurt.

  “I think there are a few other changes,” Kurt said, his bantering tone at odds with the cold fury in his eyes. “But I suppose we’ve all grown older, if not wiser.”

  “Indeed we have, although you seem remarkably well preserved, Karl.” Esmerelda casually lifted her right hand, as if in greeting.

  A very dangerous greeting, I thought, as I realized that she was holding a gun. I sucked in a breath as Kurt gave the weapon a cursory glance before focusing back on the older woman’s face.

  “Have you informed your little lieutenant here of your real intentions, or were you saving that as a surprise?” Kurt asked.

  “What do you mean?” Dalbec lowered the knife but kept a tight grip on Adele. “What’s he talking about, Ez?”

  “Oh, I think Karl, excuse me, Kurt, is just trying to stir the pot,” the woman who went by the street name Esmerelda said.

  “Not really,” Kurt said. “I just think that Mr. Dalbec might want to know that you intend to kill all of us and frame him for the murders. Which won’t really matter, I suppose, since he’ll be dead.”

  “What an incredibly difficult person you are.” Esmerelda stepped forward, her gun aimed directly at Kurt’s chest. “Always have been, haven’t you? First, interfering in my dealing back in the day …”

  “That was just a business rivalry,” Kurt said.

  “I could allow that. But killing my partner was a step too far.”

  “He tried to stab me. I was just defending myself.” Kurt shot a glance over Esmerelda’s shoulder, catching Lance Dalbec’s eye. “And let’s be honest—you were really upset because he was your lover. You could always find another partner. But I suppose even you might have cared about someone enough to be hurt by their death.”

  “He was the only man I ever loved!” The words exploded from Esmerelda’s lips.

  “You should’ve thought of that before you sent him to kill me. I know it was your call. He admitted that much before he died.”

  Esmerelda’s string of words, damning Kurt with a variety of colorful epithets, was interrupted by a short, stocky man who’d jogged around from the front of the house. “You okay here?” he asked.

  “Everything’s under control,” Esmerelda said. “I hope the same can be said for all those people in the house.”

  “They’ve been warned not to come out if they want their friends to live,” the man said, with a quick glance at Adele and me. “What now?”

  Esmerelda waved him aside. “You go. Cut through the woods and find our cars and make sure they’re fired up, ready for a quick getaway. Lance and I can handle this.”

  The stocky man gave her what almost looked like a salute before dashing off into the woods.

  “You really think no one inside called the authorities?” Kurt said, his tone mild as milk.

  “I expect they may have by this point. Which is why I’m going to have to dispatch all of you more quickly than I planned.” Esmerelda raised the gun. “Starting with you. Time for the Viking to fall. No more interfering in my affairs. And no more assisting the feds with their feeble attempts to capture me.”

  Kurt flashed a wolfish grin. “If only I could’ve seen that through, I would die a happy man.”

  “Now you’ll just die, happy or not,” Esmerelda said grimly.

  I glanced at Lance Dalbec and Adele. Obviously confused by this turn of events, he’d lowered the knife. I caught Adele’s eye. “Try,” I mouthed at her.

  She lowered her eyelids in silent acknowledgment. Lifting one leg in movement that exuded strength as well as grace, she kicked to the side before swinging her leg back in a circular motion that slammed her foot into Dalbec’s legs.

  A dance movement I’d seen Richard execute many times before, although not with quite the same results.

  Dalbec tumbled forward, falling so fast that he didn’t have time to adjust his grip on the knife. Mixed in with the thud as he hit the ground was the sickening sound of a blade sinking into flesh and bone.

  I didn’t wait to see if Dalbec was dead or alive, just flung myself at Esmerelda’s back.

  She wasn’t a large woman, and she was no longer young. Only the gun gave her power over us, and that was torn from her fingers when I tackled her. It skidded across the pavement, landing at Kurt’s feet.

  He snatched it up in one smooth scoop and took aim at Esmerelda, who had rolled away from me but was still sprawled across the ground.

  “Get up, Amy, a
nd move behind me,” Kurt commanded. “You too, Adele.”

  Adele, walking past the prone figure of Lance Dalbec, who was clutching his stomach and groaning, gave him another little kick.

  “Good work,” Kurt said, as we circled around to stand behind him. He shot me a look of approval before turning all of his attention on Esmerelda, who’d climbed unsteadily to her feet. “Now you both go inside and let everyone know you’re okay. And notify the sheriff’s department, of course. I’ll keep these two here until the authorities arrive.”

  “What about the feds?” I asked, slipping my arm around Adele’s trembling shoulders.

  “Just tell Scott. He’ll know what to do. Now go.” Kurt fired the gun up in the air before training it back on Esmerelda. “That should alert the deputies who are staked out up the road.”

  Keeping my arm around Adele, I guided her to the front of the house, where we were met by the slam of the front door.

  “Amy!” Richard flew down the porch steps to greet us. “We heard a shot and thought …”

  Adele slid out from under my arm and stepped to the side as Richard flung his arms around me and pulled me close.

  “I’m fine,” I managed to say, between kisses. “Perfectly fine.”

  Scott and my parents rushed out onto the porch, the rest of the guests pressing up behind them.

  Richard finally let go of me to check on Adele. Seeing the thin ribbon of blood at her neck, he yelled for someone to call 911, while Adele protested.

  “It’s just a scratch,” she said, pushing Richard’s hands away. “But there is a man around back who might need some medical attention. He was holding me captive, but then he unfortunately fell on his own knife.”

  Richard eyed her with wonderment. “How’d you manage that?”

  Adele lifted her chin and struck a pose that could’ve come straight off a poster for the Ballets Russes. “Simple. I rond de jambe’d him.”

  Karla cast a glance over her shoulder at Richard’s parents. “And some people claim dance isn’t worthwhile,” she said, before flinging out her arms to acknowledge her former dance coach. “Brava!”