Ghostwriters In The Sky

by Anne R. Allen

  Walker just growled. His arm wound was obviously giving him a lot of pain.

  “About that keychain, Donna,” I couldn’t let this pass. “How could you walk away with it? You knew my cash and cards were in there.” I clutched the manuscripts to my chest, trying to sound calm.

  “I didn’t steal your keys on purpose, for God’s sake,” Donna said. “You think I wanted to come up here? Like I’d choose to hook up with a useless geezer when I had a chance to make it with Jonathan Kahn? Do you have any idea what one spot on The Real Story could do for my career? Walker said he had a gun and he’d shoot me if I didn’t go with him.”

  “Don’t count on Kahn,” said Marva. “You’d think in all those years, the Doctor would have taught him some manners, but from what I can see, he doesn’t have any.”

  She gave me a thin smile.

  “Some men just need discipline.”

  “That’s it!” Walker shouted. “Everybody into the kitchen.” He stuck the gun in Marva’s ribs. “Now! Come on, Dr. Manners.” He grabbed my shoulder with his bloody hand.

  Duncan whimpered. “Don’t! Walker, please. You know I hate violence.”

  “You should have thought about that before you shot that Mexican boy’s head off, Duncan. Nobody would have to die if you had just kept your road rage under control.” Walker herded us down a hallway hung with gorgeous Navaho weavings.

  The room went dead quiet. Marva turned on Duncan.

  “You?” she said. “You killed Ernesto, Duncan? It wasn’t Walker?”

  Duncan looked exasperated.

  “I did not mean to kill that boy. I thought he was the guy driving a Ferrari forty miles an hour while he gabbed on the damned cell phone. A goddam kid. Owning a car like that, and not even appreciating it. When I saw him get out of that Ferrari, I just saw red. It’s illegal you know, driving with one of those infernal telephones.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think it’s a death penalty offense.” Marva said.

  “Especially when the wrong guy got executed.” Walker gave a surreal chuckle as he ushered us down the hall. “Duncan killed the wrong guy. Turns out Plantagenet Smith was the one driving and dialing. Ernie only brought the car down the hill for him.”

  “Shut up! Shut up all of you.” Duncan said. “Nobody has to know. The police say a gang killed the Mexican kid and that’s that.” He stopped as he noticed the blood on Walker’s hand. “Walker, your blood is dripping everywhere. Maybe we should get you to a doctor…”

  Walker gave him a sneer and shoved Marva with his good arm.

  “Get going, you three. Into the kitchen.”

  I marched ahead, my head pounding. After the dimly lit den, the kitchen light nearly blinded me. Light gleamed from polished granite and stainless steel.

  “Walker, please?” Duncan dabbed at the blood on Walker’s hand with a kitchen rag. “At least let the girls go? They haven’t done anything. Donna’s a little selfish, and Dr. Manners isn’t the sharpest fork in the place setting, but they don’t deserve to die…”

  “Everybody deserves to die. It’s the price of being alive,” Walker said. “It’s either their time or ours, Duncan.”

  “But it would be such a waste.” Duncan gave a let’s-be-reasonable smile. “If you shoot them, we’d have to throw away another gun. Do you want to lose this fabulous Smith and Wesson 500? They’re back-ordered at least two years…”

  Walker gripped the smaller pistol with his good hand.

  “I’ll use Marvin’s gun. Nobody can trace it to us.”

  “Unless somebody notices we left a few dead bodies lying around the kitchen. Walker, we’ve got to make it to LAX by 8 AM. The helicopter’s fuelled and ready. Do you want to miss our flight because we’re cleaning up a bunch of bodies?”

  Walker looked at his watch and sighed.

  “You’re right. We don’t want to leave rotting bodies in the house. We should keep them refrigerated.” He gave us a grin. “Maybe it’s time we showed these three trespassers our newest GE Monogram appliance.”

  Before I had time to picture what might be in store for us, I heard the sound of a car engine starting up outside.

  “There’s somebody out there,” Donna screamed, yanking open the back door. “Help!” She waved her arms, then stopped.

  “Oh, my God—the Mustang. It’s moving!”

  I ran to the window. The Mustang was accelerating down the dirt road. The trunk wasn’t quite closed, and the person at the wheel—she looked a lot like Lucille Silverberg.

  “That bitch! That bitch!” Walker screamed, pulling himself up to look out the window over the sink. “How the hell did she get out of the trunk?”

  “You left Luci in the trunk of your car?” Duncan said. “How stupid was that?”

  Chapter 55—The Manners Doctor Reverses her Position on Cell Phones

  Luci had escaped with Walker’s Mustang. That was something. Maybe she’d go to the Sheriff.

  Or maybe not.

  She’d have to admit her own guilt.

  Walker pushed us on through the kitchen toward what looked like a big steel box.

  “Ladies, you must admire Duncan’s famous Monogram wine vault.”

  Duncan opened the big door. Walker motioned the three of us toward it. Now I could see it was a room-sized temperature-controlled, prefab wine cellar. The walls were honeycombed with wine racks and the floor stacked with cases with labels from local vineyards.

  “Inside. Now,” Walker said. “All three of you.”

  “I can’t,” Donna said with a smug smile. “It’s all, like, alcohol. I’m underage.”

  Walker grabbed her wrist and swung her against a case of Edna Valley Viognier. Donna whimpered and clutched her hobo bag like a security blanket.

  “You too, Dr. Manners.”

  He pushed me into a corner, where I barely avoided falling on a couple of magnums of Laetitia sparkling wine.

  Beside me, Donna’s phone began to play its little tune.

  “I have to get this,” she said.

  With a roar, Walker grabbed the bag and pulled out the phone. He didn’t seem to be able to find the “off” button. The phone kept playing its tinny melody. Finally he threw it onto the slate floor and crunched it under the heel of his boot.

  The crunched phone. So that was Walker’s modus operandi. Rick probably hadn’t destroyed Luci’s phone after all. I felt better.

  “I hate those phones,” Walker said. “Duncan’s right. Using one should be a capital offense.”

  “Will you be quiet about that!” Duncan picked up the remains of the phone with his good hand. “And could you please stop making a mess? You’re leaving evidence everywhere.”

  His hands still gripping his gun, Walker started closing the door of the wine vault with his foot.

  “Sorry there’s no corkscrew in there, ladies. ‘Wine, wine everywhere, but not a drop to drink’…Such an unfortunate accident. You shouldn’t have been wandering around looking for booze in the middle of the night. But you were so drunk…”

  He gave his terrible smile. “Too bad we’re leaving for an extended vacation. They won’t find your bodies for weeks.”

  “Wait a minute, Walker,” Duncan said, his voice rising with hysteria. “Let’s think this through. This is not a freezer. It’s just a cooler. It won’t preserve them for a whole month. Do you have any idea what decomposing bodies will do? I’ll never get the smell out. I am not going to allow this, Walker.”

  “You’re not going to allow it? What are you, now, my mother?”

  Duncan started shrieking.

  “I’m calling the police. This has gone far enough. I’m going to turn myself in.”

  He reached for the phone on the kitchen wall.

  With a roar, Walker yanked the phone from its moorings, pulling plaster and hand-painted Italian tile with it.

  “Duncan, so help me, if you do one more stupid thing…” He stomped the phone with his cowboy-booted heel and looked at Dunc
an with exasperation. “What, you can’t even close the door?”

  Duncan gave us an apologetic look as he pushed on the vault door. It thudded to a close, sealing us into the chilly dark.

  Terrible, cold, black dark.

  “You are not leaving us in here!” Donna threw her weight against the door of the wine cooler.

  “Save your strength.” Marva said with a sigh. “That door is steel. A hundred of us couldn’t break out of here.”

  “Why should I listen to you, bitch?” Donna said. “You planned to leave us here with them.”

  “No, I planned to stop Walker from attacking Camilla with that letter opener. I saw him pocket that thing and start sidling over to her.”

  I didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but that made sense. It would have been easier to attack me than the military-trained Marva.

  I felt around for a sturdy wine carton. “Why don’t we all calm down and think logically about how to get out of here.” I put the folders I’d been clutching on the box and managed to sit.

  Marva gave a yelp.

  “What the hell is this? I’ve just been goosed by a giant champagne bottle.”

  “Probably a magnum of Laetitia sparkling wine,” I said. “I caught a glimpe of the labels before he shut the door. ”

  Donna moaned.

  “Doesn’t anybody have a phone? What century do you people live in?”

  “The Manners Doctor does not approve of cell phones,” Marva said. “So I never carry one when I’m being Dr. Manners.”

  “The Manners Doctor has changed her position on that.” I shivered.

  “You are both batshit-crazy,” Donna said. “We're gonna die in here.”

  Chapter 56—Magnum Force

  “Duncan has people come in to tend his horses,” Marva said. “They’ll be here in the morning. I don’t think we have any chance of being rescued until then, so we’d better keep warm. Alcohol is good for that.”

  “You heard him,” Donna said. “There’s no corkscrew. Not that we’d be able to find it in the dark anyway.”

  “You don’t need a corkscrew for champagne,” Marva said. “This should calm us right down, don’t you think, ladies?”

  I heard the sound of tearing metal foil as I felt around the door, wildly hoping there might be some way to open it from the inside. After a muffled pop, I was showered with bubbly foam.

  “Elegant,” Marva said after a moment. “A nice, lemony mousse. With a hint of vanilla and pear.”

  She handed me the big bottle.

  Maybe her plan was the best one after all. I hefted the bottle to my lips. It was delicious.

  I tried to pass it to Donna, but she shoved it back at me.

  “I don’t want to calm down. What makes you think any stable guys can hear us in here? We’re going to die. Why do these Bozos want to kill us? We haven’t done a damned thing! And Duncan used to be my boyfriend…”

  I reminded her we’d just heard them confess to murder and kidnapping.

  “Yeah. I guess.” Donna accepted the bottle after all. “Can you believe Duncan killed Ernesto because he thought Ernie was Plantagenet Smith? Ernie died because of that stupid blond hairdo. It so totally did not work with his coloring.”

  “Actually, he died because Duncan Fowler is a heavily armed two-year old,” Marva said. “Poor Duncan. He’s always had anger management issues. Walker bullies him and then he takes his anger out on everybody else—especially other drivers. Who gives a gun to a guy with road rage?”

  Talk of road rage made me think of Rick and I realized he’d be wondering what happened to us—and his car. He’d start looking…but, probably not here. The reality of our situation fell on me with its full weight. We really could die in here.

  “Duncan always wanted a Ferrari,” Marva said. “But Walker hates Italian cars. That’s probably why Duncan was so jealous.”

  Donna sighed loudly.

  “This totally sucks. Are you two just going to sit here and, like, have a chat fest while we’re freezing to death?” She banged on the door again. “Duncan, you bastard! Get us out of here, now!”

  Marva laughed. “Go ahead and jump around and warm yourself up, sweetie, but don’t expect that man to save your life. Even if he has a modicum of affection for you, he has no mind of his own.”

  I had another cheering thought. Plantagenet and Silas knew I was here at Duncan’s house. Once they missed me, they’d come looking.

  Except they were on their way to the county jail and didn’t intend to come back until Gaby was released—which probably wouldn’t be until tomorrow.

  “He was my boyfriend. We have history, Duncan and me.” Donna said.

  “You were his beard,” Marva said. “Can’t you see that the only thing that ever mattered to that man was Walker Montgomery?”

  “I don’t get it. Walker Montgomery is a geezer, and he treats Duncan like crap. Duncan is a pundit, for God’s sake!” Donna seemed to be chugging the champagne now.

  Marva gave a rough laugh.

  “As a practicing dominatrix, I can tell you that most relationships are sado-masochistic in one way or another. Some of us are just more honest about it. Those two murderers out there have been locked in an S/M game for fifty years that makes everything I’ve done look totally vanilla.”

  “You’re one of those…? You beat people for a living?” Donna said. “That is way too kinkizoid for me. Is that what Jonathan Kahn likes? He hired you to hurt him?”

  “No. He hired me to spank him. Camilla here, she’s the one who hurt him.”

  This was so completely uncalled for, I nearly choked on my mouthful of champagne.

  “Me? I hurt Jonathan? In case you haven’t been on this planet for the last year, Marva, he’s the one who cheated—with cheap street hookers, for goodness sake. I never cheated. I adored him!” I did not want to re-live all that hurt and humiliation at this point. What was Marva’s game?

  “He loved you, too. Still does. Why do you think he hired me to impersonate you?”

  “I—have no idea.” I hadn’t let my mind dwell on that. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. “Where’s that bottle?”

  “Here you go,” said Marva, thrusting the cold bottle neck in my hand. “Jonathan married Camilla Randall and ended up with Dr. Manners. Kind of hard to live up to the good doctor’s standards, you know. She’s so perfect, she’s scary.”

  “He was afraid of the Manners Doctor?” I took a big gulp of champagne. And another. But as I thought about it, a knot of anger in my belly started to dissolve. “Maybe you’re right. Sometimes I’m afraid of the Doctor myself.”

  “How about a little champagne over here?” said Donna. “I was not a beard, you guys. I knew Duncan had something going on with Walker, but we hooked up, Duncan and me. Sort of. I mean oral stuff. That’s what most old guys want anyway, isn’t it?”

  Donna and Marva giggled, but their giggles had a brittle, hysterical edge. I tried to remember exactly what I had said to Plant and Silas and if it was possible Rick might call them if we didn’t show up soon.

  “Okay,” Donna said. “So Duncan killed Ernie out of road rage because he thought he was Plantagenet Smith. But which one of them killed Toby?” She let out a hiccup.

  “Yeah, that’s weird,” Marva said. “Walker almost sounded like he was telling the truth about that. I can’t figure out why Walker would have killed Toby before he got the letters back. Maybe Toby was killed by some gang after all.”

  “That’s stupid,” Donna said. “The Viboras would not do a guy with a frying pan. Besides—I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but my cousin Miguel—he’s in that gang, the Viboras—at least he used to be. With Ernie.”

  “Are you sure Miguel didn’t kill Toby?”

  That was the only scenario that made sense to me, if Walker really hadn’t done it.

  “No way. He was with me,” Donna said. “He kept me with him in the kitchen like, two hours after I was supposed to meet Toby�
��until I promised I wouldn’t go through with it. Later, like, after midnight, I got mad at how Miguel was being a control freak, and I got the bottle of champagne and the key out of the ice machine and went to see if Toby was still waiting for me. But… Well, you know what happened. I got in bed with your cop and poor old Toby was already dead.”

  That gave me a hopeful thought.

  “If Miguel is that protective—do you think maybe he’ll start looking for us?”

  Donna let out a heavy sigh.

  “I don’t know. I tried to call the Hacienda earlier, when we were in the car, but the only person I could get on the phone was Santiago—you know that Guatemalan kid? He grew up in some jungle talking a weird Indian dialect. He speaks terrible Spanish and he didn’t make sense. He kept talking about how he’s burning. He thinks he’s like, totally in love with me. Hey, is there another bottle of this champagne?”

  “Your phone,” I said, thinking out loud. “Somebody was trying to call you when Walker took your phone. Do you think that might have been Miguel? Maybe he tried the hospital and now he’s worried…”

  But Donna only screamed.

  “Look!”

  A sliver of light appeared in the darkness. Slowly, the sliver expanded as the door creaked open. In a blaze of kitchen light, we saw Duncan Fowler, blood gushing from his nose, a massive chef’s knife gleaming at his throat.

  The person wielding the knife was Santiago, the Guatemalan kitchen boy.

  Chapter 57—The Manners Doctor Rides Again

  “Santiago!”

  Donna let out a torrent of Spanish as she made a drunken lurch out of the vault toward our rescuer.

  Santiago replied in his hesitant version of the language, still holding the big knife at Duncan’s throat.

  I ran out into the warm kitchen and gave Santiago a grateful smile.

  “I don’t know how you found us, Santiago, but thank you.”

  The boy looked confused and frightened as he looked from Marva to me and back again. He said something more to Donna.