A Killer Ending

by Karen MacInerney

"He was going to tell the board to kill it completely. So I had to kill him. He was going to ruin me.” He shook his head. "I never should have left that stupid book in the store. If I'd known what she meant, I never would have left it behind." He ran his hand over his head, his movements jerky. "I just wasn't thinking straight; I'd just gotten that letter, and I was mad." He looked up at me. "I came back later to get the book, but I couldn't find it."

  "So you broke into the shop?"

  "Once," he said. "And Agatha did on her own, too, as I'm guessing you've figured out."

  "I gathered from the conversation," I said. "So, how far in debt are you?"

  "A couple hundred grand," he said. "When this deal comes through, I'll be able to pay that off and still pocket a good chunk of change."

  "When? I thought Cal's company put a time limit on it?"

  "How do you know that?" He was quiet. "Oh, I see. You were in my office, too. How did you manage that?"

  "I waited until Rupert had to use the facilities," I admitted. "I watched from across the street. Just like you watched for Ted to leave the hotel before you confronted Kirsten."

  "That's right," he said. "She ruined my life. I had to make her pay. She used me for her book, made all that money off of me, and then ruined me. If she hadn't written that book, none of this would have happened." He grimaced. "And I'm still not sure if the job's done."

  "She's still alive?"

  "Word is she's still in a coma at the hospital. I'll have to visit her this afternoon. In fact, thank you for reminding me. I'll go now. We can do this later."

  "But..."

  "I'll be back," he said. He took off his tie and wrapped it twice around my face, over my mouth, to make a makeshift gag. "I never did like this tie, anyway. Don't go anywhere," he added, then chuckled at his own bad joke. As I recoiled at the taste of his dirty tie in my mouth, he left the conference room and hurried down the hallway.

  I had to warn Ted.

  But how?

  25

  I quickly took stock of my situation. My hands were bound behind my back and my feet were tied together. My phone was long gone. And with a gag in my mouth, I couldn't talk even if I could figure out how to find a phone and somehow manage to dial it.

  I had only one option that I could see.

  Channel my inner gymnast.

  I didn't have much time; the hospital was only a few blocks away, and it would only take a minute or two with a pillow to end Kirsten's writing career prematurely.

  I took a deep breath and tried to relax my body, then swung my legs over the edge of the filing cabinet. The cabinet was too tall for my feet to reach the floor, so I shimmied over to the edge and then dropped, almost losing my balance and falling face first; I hopped wildly, lurching forward, until my shoulder hit the wall. Slowly, with little hops, I got myself into a standing position, then hopped over to the conference room door, praying he hadn't locked it.

  He had, of course.

  I turned around and hopped over to the window facing the alley beside the office and pressed myself up against the glass, searching for a passerby who would make eye contact. Unfortunately, nobody was in the alley. A cat wandered by and gave me a slitty-eyed look, then sat down and began to clean its back legs. I groaned. How was I going to get someone to see me?

  I started shoving my shoulder at the glass, hoping I could break it. I'd hop back a few steps and then hurl myself at it. The glass thumped, but nothing else happened. On the third try, I managed to fall over; I had to inch back to the window and get my feet underneath me, then slide back up so that I was standing.

  Time was running short; it had already been ten minutes. Was Scooter already at Kirsten's bedside with a pillow in his hand?

  I couldn't wait any longer.

  I backed up further, and with all my strength, hurled myself at the glass window.

  This time, I didn't bounce back.

  The glass shattered as I hit it and I hurtled to the pavement, landing hard on my shoulder. I yelped with pain from behind the gag.

  There were footsteps, and a young couple stood over me, both holding coffee cups from Sea Beans; they must have been walking by the mouth of the alley when I fell through the window

  "Are you okay, Miss?"

  I made a few squeaking sounds, eyes bulging.

  "She can't talk with the gag on, Mike," the young woman said. She handed her coffee to her friend, squatted down and unwrapped the tie from around my head. "Who did this to you?" she asked.

  "Do you have a phone?" I gasped.

  "Of course," she said, as if I'd asked her if she had lungs. "It's right here. Let me untie you first."

  "First call this number for me and put it on speaker, okay?"

  "What? Why? You're bleeding! We need to get you to a hospital!"

  I looked down to where a small puddle of blood was gathering on the pavement under my arm; I'd gashed it on the broken glass. My hip wasn't feeling terrific, either... nor was my head. "Please. I'll explain in a minute; there's no time." As I dictated Ted's number, she dialed it in. I prayed that Ted would pick it up; after the third ring, he did.

  "Ted, it's Max. Scooter Dempsey is on the way to the hospital; he killed Cal Parker and now he's going to try to finish off Kirsten."

  "What? How do you know this?"

  "It doesn't matter. Are you at the hospital?"

  "Yeah. I'm in the cafeteria."

  "Go upstairs. Now. And call the police."

  "I'm going," he said.

  "Call me back," I said. "Okay if he uses this number?" I asked the young woman, who was staring saucer-eyed at the phone.

  "Sure," she said. "Maybe we should call the police, too? This is just… What's going on?"

  "Wait until he calls back," I asked.

  "This is crazy. I can't believe this is happening in Snug Harbor. Who is Ted, anyway?" the young man asked, fumbling with the knots at my ankles as his girlfriend freed my hands

  "My ex-husband."

  "And who's Kirsten?" the young woman asked.

  "My ex-husband's girlfriend." The two exchanged looks. "It's a long story," I said. "I'll explain it once he calls back."

  "Right," the young woman said. "I'm Sasha, by the way, and this is Mike."

  "Max Sayers," I said.

  "Great to meet you," she said. "What can we do to help you while we wait for your ex-husband to call back?"

  "Maybe help me get the glass out of my arm?"

  "Let me get this knot undone first," Mike said, still struggling with the bonds at my feet."

  "I'll help," Sasha offered.

  "Thanks," I told them.

  As the two worked on the knot, a few people drifted up.

  "Is this some kind of movie set or something? What happened here?" asked an older man with a Pomeranian.

  "Kidnapping," I said. "And murder."

  "Murder? That woman you called about?"

  "Among other things." I didn't mention my own breaking and entering. Was it breaking and entering if you walked into an unlocked office? I wondered.

  "Does this have something to do with the selectman they found on the beach?" the man asked.

  "Yes," I said. "Would someone mind calling the police? We're waiting for a call on Sasha's phone."

  "Oh. Duh. Of course," Mike said, pulling his own phone out of his back pocket and dialing 911.

  "Yeah," he said when someone answered. "We're outside of this office called…"

  "Dempsey Development," I supplied.

  "Dempsey Development. Some lady named Max just fell out of a glass door; she was all tied up, and apparently someone's trying to kill her ex-husband's girlfriend." Silence. "No, this isn't a joke," he said. "I'm serious. Get someone over here please; and maybe an ambulance, too. She's hurt." Silence again, and then he said, "Thanks. I know it sounds weird, but it's just that kind of day. Yeah. Thanks. We'll just wait here then, right?" He hung up a moment later, just as Sasha's phone rang.

  She picked it up and put it on speaker phone
. "Ted?" she asked.

  "It's me," he said, his voice ragged. "You were right. He was in here with her, trying... trying to kill Kirsten."

  "What did you do?"

  "I hit him," he said. "Knocked him out. The cops are on their way, but... but Kirsten's okay. Thank you," he said, his voice ragged. "How did you know?"

  "He told me," I said, suddenly feeling weak. "I'll explain it all later." As I spoke, there was the sound of a siren. I let my head drop to the sidewalk and closed my eyes just as the paramedics hurried over to me. Kirsten was safe. Scooter Dempsey was soon going to be in custody.

  And now I knew Agatha had signed the bookstore over to her sister.

  It had been one heck of a morning.

  Even though my wounds were superficial, the EMTs insisted I go to the emergency room anyway. The police, of course, had lots of questions about how I had ended up in the middle of an alley in a pile of glass, bound hand and foot with inside information on an upcoming murder. I promised to fill them in on everything once I got the rest of the glass out of my forearm, stopped bleeding everywhere, and had access to Ibuprofen.

  I was in the emergency room getting bandaged up and preparing for an X-ray to make sure I hadn't broken anything on the way down to the pavement when Ted burst into my little cubicle.

  "Are you family?" asked the nurse who was dressing my wounds.

  "I'm her ex-husband," he said. "The police told me you were here... are you okay?"

  "You're not supposed to be in here," the nurse said. "Only family."

  "He's family," I said, again feeling that twist in my heart. We might be divorced, but we had raised two children together. Not everything ended just because a marriage did.

  "Are you okay?" he asked again, and there was genuine concern on his face.

  "I am," I said.

  "What happened?"

  "I overheard Scooter and Agatha talking about their plans for the bookstore. Scooter found me... then he tied me up and then went to kill Kirsten," I said. "He was planning to burn the bookshop down later, probably with me in it."

  "What? Why? Didn't you know him as a kid?"

  "I did. It's a long story. Is Kirsten okay?"

  "She is," he said. "Thank you so much for calling. If you hadn't..." He shivered. "He was there when I got there, with the pillow over her face. If I'd been a minute or two later, it would have been too late."

  Thank goodness for Mike and Sasha, I thought.

  "She came to earlier, by the way," he said. "They think she'll make a full recovery."

  "Thank goodness. Did they arrest him?"

  "They did," Ted said, sitting down on one of the plastic chairs. The nurse, while quietly attending to my wounds, had perked up her ears. "How did you know he killed Cal Parker and attacked Kirsten?"

  "I read her book," I said. "It was all in there. She used Scooter as a model for one of her characters."

  "She knew he was a murderer?"

  "I don't think she knew he'd stoop to that—she took liberties—but she figured out he had a gambling habit and was playing fast and loose with the numbers at his business to make things work. Cal read her book and figured it out pretty fast. I'm guessing he did a little poking around into Dempsey Development's current projects. In any case, he threatened to back out of the development deal with Scooter. Scooter was counting on that money to keep everything afloat... when he couldn't talk Cal around, he killed him and tried to pin it on me."

  "You'd be an obvious suspect for Kirsten's attack, too," Ted said. "Although I know you'd never do something like that."

  "I wouldn't," I concurred as the nurse continued to bind my wounds. Very slowly, I noticed.

  "All good," she said reluctantly. "The tech will be by soon to take you to X-ray." She smiled at me. "I hope your life gets less complicated soon."

  "Me too," I said. "Thanks."

  When she left, Ted took a deep breath and looked at me. For a moment, we were just as we were years ago, before all the distance and misunderstandings and resentments grew into a mountain neither of us could scale. "I miss you sometimes," he said. "I care for Kirsten, but you and I’ve got a lot of history."

  "I know," I said. "I miss you sometimes, too."

  "Can we be friends?" he asked.

  I thought about it for a moment. "Maybe in a little while," I said. "I think we both need to heal some first."

  "Yeah," he said, looking away. "Even though it was probably the right thing, it's still hard. Audrey is doing okay, but Caroline is still struggling, I think."

  "Did she say anything to you about it?"

  "She told me she doesn't like Kirsten," he said. "I don't know what to do."

  "I don't know either," I said. "But they'll have to work it out, won't they?"

  "I guess," he said. "I've been meaning to ask... is the store going okay? Sales good?"

  "Better than expected so far," I said. "Fingers crossed. Kirsten's signing was a big boost. I'm grateful to her for coming."

  "She's a good person," he said. "I think you'd like her."

  "We'll play it by ear," I told him, not quite ready to become BFFs with Ted—er... Theodore's new flame. "Anyway, thanks for coming by."

  "Do you need a ride home?"

  "I'll call a friend. Thanks, though."

  He stood up, putting his hands on his lower back and stretching, a movement I'd seen thousands of times before. "I'll go back up to keep Kirsten company, then. Thanks for saving her."

  "You're welcome," I said. "They're supposed to send officers in to talk to me, but I think with all the excitement over Kirsten, they may have forgotten where to find me. Can you send them down and ask if I can have my phone back?"

  "I'll track someone down," he said. "Let me know about the hip, okay? And send any medical bills to me."

  "Right," I said. "Thanks."

  And he walked out of the emergency room, leaving me feeling more alone than I had in a long time.

  Until thirty seconds later, when Denise rushed into the room, Bethany at her side.

  "Ohmygosh," Denise said, coming up and giving me a careful hug that filled my heart with love and warmth. Bethany followed suit as Denise said, "I heard Scooter hog-tied you and threw you in the middle of the street, then went to strangle your ex's girlfriend! And he's the one who killed Cal Parker?"

  I laughed. "I'm still waiting to talk to the police, but you got most of the story, if not the details. I threw myself into the street, not Scooter. And where did you hear all this?"

  "We saw the cops going down the street, and some guy with a Pomeranian told us about a woman crashing through the window and talking about a murder, so we pieced it together from that. The police haven't been in to talk to you yet?" She looked at my bandaged arm. "Is that going to be okay?"

  "I think so," I said, and gave her my version of events.

  "So real life followed the story in Kirsten's book," Bethany said, eyes wide, as I finished telling the tale. "That is so cool! If she hadn't written that book..."

  "Cal Parker might still be alive," Denise said. "They always say the pen is mightier than the sword, but I never took it literally. That's so sad!"

  "Kirsten didn't make it happen," I said. "She simply wrote what she saw. Scooter was the one who got himself into trouble and killed to try to get out of it."

  "True," Bethany said. "And Kirsten almost paid with her life. She's going to be okay, isn't she? I'd hate it if she stopped writing!"

  "Looks like she'll be fine," I said. "Thanks for coming. I know we're supposed to keep regular store hours, but I'm glad you're here.".

  "Are you kidding?" Denise asked. "With everything that happened, you're going to get tons of publicity... half the town is going to come in just to see if they can find anything out!"

  I laughed. "From your lips to God's ears," I said as the tech came in to take me to X-ray.

  The next morning dawned clear and chilly. After making myself a double latte and drinking it with a maple walnut scone from Sea Beans, I whipped
up a batch of chocolate chocolate chip cookies (they were like round brownies with walnuts). As the last batch cooled on racks next to the oven, I leashed up Winston and hobbled down to the beach behind the shop—my bruised hip reminding me of its existence with every step—hoping that I'd find a few good bits of sea glass during the low tide.

  It was a beautiful morning. Gulls wheeled overhead, bright white against the blue sky, and the breeze off the water was salty and fresh.

  Not long after Denise and Bethany had come to see me, the police had finally showed up to take a statement from me. They'd even returned my cell phone after taking prints and downloading a recording of the conversation between Scooter and Agatha. I didn't have a piece of paper documenting the sale of the property to Loretta—yet—but I at least had a verbal confession that Agatha had signed the shop over to her sister before I bought it. Plus, the police had assured me they'd be charging Agatha with accessory to attempted murder, or something like that, and potentially fraud as well. I didn't know what all that meant for the shop's future, but with Scooter in jail and Agatha most likely on her way, I was hoping not to have to worry about that for a bit.

  I had enough on my plate as it was.

  As I walked, the phone rang. I glanced down; it was Caroline.

  "Hi, sweetie."

  "I just got off the phone with Dad," she said. "Is it true you saved Kirsten's life?"

  "It is," I said.

  "And somebody tied you up and was going to burn you and the shop up? I thought Boston was scary, but I'm worried about where you're living now!"

  "It was a one-time deal," I said. "I'm fine."

  She was quiet for a moment.

  "It's good to hear from you," I said quietly.

  "I've... I've missed you," she said.

  "I've missed you too," I told her gently.

  "Can I maybe come up and see the shop?" she asked. "I can stay with grandma if it's easier; I know you don't have a lot of room."

  "I'd love for you to stay with me—there's always room for you—but stay wherever you feel most comfortable. I'd be delighted to see you and show you around."

  "All right." She paused. "This weekend, maybe?"