Coached to Death

by Victoria Laurie

  “She killed my sister!”

  “Yes,” I repeated.

  Carmen sank to the floor and wept, emitting huge, wet sobs. Gilley and I looked at each other. Neither of us quite knew what to do. Wringing my hands, I stepped all the way to her and crouched down. “Carmen,” I whispered, “what can I do for you?”

  Carmen rocked back and forth, hugging herself with her arms. It was hard to witness. Gilley brought over a box of tissues and squatted down with us. He placed the tissues next to her so that she could see them while she rocked.

  After a few more moments, she did seem to spot them and used several to cover her eyes.

  With great care, I placed a hand on her back. “Carmen,” I tried again, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Carmen’s body shuddered under my hand. But finally her sobs lessened a bit, and she kind of leaned against me while she mopped at her face and took big, gulping breaths.

  “Sasha was my savior,” she said thickly. “Always the brave one of us. She convinced me to leave Russia and come here, where we could have some opportunity. And we did! We always had jobs, and we were saving our money. We were going to buy a place in Florida and live together when we got too old to work. She and I were going to take care of each other.”

  I rubbed Carmen’s back. “That would’ve been a lovely plan.”

  Carmen nodded, and then she sighed so sadly that it broke my heart. “I will miss her.”

  “What can we do?” I asked her again.

  “Don’t call the police,” she said. “Please. That woman . . . she will find me. She will kill me too.”

  “She can’t get to you if she’s in police custody,” I said.

  “The police want to blame me for Miss Heather’s murder!” she yelled at me. “I didn’t kill her!”

  I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay,” I said. “I know you didn’t kill Heather, and I won’t call them. But, Carmen, it’s not safe for you out there.”

  “Why do you think I’m in here?” she said flatly. “It’s a good hiding place. No one would think to look for me here now that Miss Heather is dead.”

  “That’s true,” Gilley said. “But what’re you going to do, Carmen? Live here in the dark? And what happens when the food runs out and the water and electricity get turned off? I mean, winter is coming, you know.”

  Carmen played with her tissue. “I’ll get by.”

  “Oh, Carmen,” I said, “you’ll do no such thing.” Holding out my hand to her I said, “I want you to trust me.”

  She looked from my hand to my face, and I could tell she was trying to make up her mind. “Miss Heather really hated you.”

  “I know,” I said. “She was mistaken about how I acquired the property next door. But that’s neither here nor there. What’s important is that we get you to safety. We’ll start with my home, and then tomorrow, after you’ve had some rest and something warm to eat, I’ll settle you someplace very safe. Someplace the assassin will never think to look. But, first, you have to trust me.”

  Carmen hesitated a few seconds longer, but finally she took my hand. “Don’t double-cross me,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  * * *

  Back at Chez Kitty, I handed Carmen a set of towels, a robe, and a pair of slippers. “The slippers are brand-new, never worn,” I told Carmen. “You can keep them if you’d like. The bathroom has extra towels, and there are clean sheets on the bed. I’ll bring you some dinner in a bit, after you’ve had a chance to freshen up.”

  Carmen hugged the items to her chest. “Why are you being so kind to me?”

  “Because I’m a nice person,” I said. “And because you need help, and your sister just died. And also because I don’t believe you had anything to do with Heather’s death.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Me either,” I told her. “But I want to find out who did. And maybe you can help with that.”

  “How?”

  “Shower first, eat second, we’ll talk third,” I said.

  With that, I left Carmen alone and found Gilley in the kitchen throwing together some dinner for Carmen. “I hope she likes linguini carbonara,” he said, stirring a pan of bacon.

  “I’m sure she’ll love it,” I said wearily. Eyeing the clock, I added a sigh. It was nearly ten-thirty, and I was bushed.

  Gilley cooked in silence for a bit, but then, after chopping the parsley, he turned to me and said, “We could get into big trouble for not calling Shepherd about her.”

  “I know.”

  “She might be safer with him, you know.”

  “No,” I said, “I don’t agree. This assassin is a master of disguise. Who’s to say she doesn’t don a police uniform, waltz into the jail, and shoot Carmen?”

  “That’d be insanely bold,” Gil said.

  “It would. Which is why I’m worried about it. She shot a priest, Gilley. A priest! In broad daylight even. Then she waltzed right out of the church like she was heading out for a stroll. She has the confidence of a practiced killer, and that’s something you can’t be protected from for long.”

  “So we’re keeping Carmen here?” he asked me.

  “No,” I said. “Absolutely not. That’s far too close for comfort.”

  “Then where?”

  “I was thinking we could hide her in Islip.”

  “Islip?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where in Islip?”

  I looked meaningfully at Gil.

  He sucked in a breath and pointed a finger at me. “You can’t mean . . . !”

  “She needs something to do, Gilley. And this will give Erma something to do.”

  “Cat!”

  “What?”

  “She’s a train wreck!”

  “Agreed. But she isn’t someone on the assassin’s radar. She’s got nothing to do with any of this. And her roommate already moved out, Gilley. This will give her a little company.”

  “Are you going to tell her she’s harboring a fugitive?”

  “Carmen isn’t a fugitive,” I said. “She’s a witness. And yes, I’m going to tell Erma that Carmen is in trouble because she witnessed something really awful and she needs a safe place to hide for a bit.”

  Gilley put a hand on one hip. “And are you going to tell her that, by harboring this witness, Erma’s life could also be in danger?”

  “I was actually thinking of leaving that part out,” I said. “I mean, what good can come of it other than totally stressing out Erma?”

  “She has a right to know, Cat. Especially after what happened to Sasha.”

  I winced. He had me there. “Fine. I’ll tell her. But first let’s get Carmen’s story and worry about what we say to Erma later.”

  “How’re you going to sneak Carmen into Islip?” Gilley asked next. “I mean, after you were followed the other day, I should think you’d be super nervous about leading the assassin to Erma’s place.”

  “I was hoping you could sneak Carmen into Islip.”

  “Of course you were,” Gil said with a scowl. “So then I can become a target.”

  “No,” I said. Then I sighed. “The assassin is interested in me, not you. If that truly was who was following me, then it’s clear that she’s interested in me.”

  “I think she’d give chase to anybody who leaves this driveway and heads to the highway.”

  I nodded absently. “You know, you’re probably right. Maybe there’s a way to work all of this out in the morning that will keep everyone safe.” Pulling out my phone, I sent a quick e-mail to Erma, asking if she could drive out to my office in the morning. She answered back immediately that she’d do just that.

  Carmen appeared from her shower, with a towel wrapped around her head and wearing my robe and slippers. She cinched the belt tighter when she saw us. “That was a very nice shower. Thank you, ma’am.”

  I smiled and patted one of the chairs. “Come and sit at the table, Carmen. Gilley has prepared you a delicious dinner.”r />
  Carmen came and sat at the table, and Gilley served her a heaping plateful of pasta while I poured her a glass of wine.

  When she saw that we weren’t eating and hesitated to pick up her fork, I said, “We ate earlier. Please, enjoy your dinner.”

  Carmen dug in while Gilley and I cleaned up the dishes, then we each sat down again with some tea and waited for Carmen to polish off the last of the pasta.

  Pushing her plate away, she smiled shyly at us. “That was very good. Almost as good as I make.”

  Gilley snorted, and I could tell he was about to say something snarky, so I quickly said, “So, Carmen, now that you’ve had a chance to eat and freshen up, is it all right if we ask you some questions?”

  “You want to know what happened to Miss Heather. How she died, right?”

  I blinked. “Yes. That’s correct.”

  “That woman killed her,” Carmen said, her lower lip trembling. “I saw her do it.”

  “You saw her put the quinine in Heather’s drink?” I asked.

  Carmen furrowed her brow. “Quinine? What’re you talking about?”

  Realizing she didn’t understand that quinine was the chemical in tonic water that Heather had reacted to, I tried again. “You saw the assassin pour tonic water in Heather’s drink, or in the punch, correct?”

  Carmen shook her head vigorously. “No. Miss Heather was allergic to tonic water. She said she’d break out in a terrible rash if she had it, and she wouldn’t allow the stuff in the house, which was why I wanted to make sure your punch didn’t have it, and that’s why I taste-tested it. I’m sorry about all that, by the way.”

  I glanced at Gilley. He seemed as confused as I was. “Don’t worry about it,” I told Carmen. “It’s water under the bridge. Why don’t you tell us what you saw, and I’ll just stay quiet?”

  Carmen nodded. “I had been late getting to church because the cleanup from the party took so long, so I stayed a little later to make sure I said all my prayers. When I got back to Miss Heather’s, I cleaned up the rest of the kitchen and was gathering all the garbage in the house—you know, to take to the curb for collection the next morning—and when I approached the doorway, I heard a terrible crash, and someone was cursing and carrying on . . .”

  Gilley and I exchanged another look. I had a baaaaad feeling about where this was headed.

  “I ran forward, thinking Miss Heather was in trouble, and when I got to the doorway of her library I saw this . . . this . . .”

  “Go-go-boot-wearing woman?” Gilley supplied.

  “Yes!” Carmen exclaimed, pointing at Gilley. “Her! She was standing over poor Miss Heather! She’d killed her with the punch bowl!”

  My shoulders slumped. “No, Carmen,” I said wearily. “She didn’t.”

  “Yes!” Carmen insisted. “I saw her, Miss Catherine. I saw her!”

  Gilley shook his head at me before saying to Carmen, “Continue on with your story, Carmen. What happened next?”

  “Well, we both stood there for a minute. I think she was surprised to see me, and I was surprised to see her standing over poor Miss Heather, and then she just looked at me with these dead eyes, reached into her purse, and started to pull out a gun!”

  “Oh, my,” I said. “Did she shoot at you!”

  Carmen’s head pumped up and down. “I . . . I think so. It all happened so fast, and I didn’t hear anything louder than this dull pop as I turned and started to run. But then something whizzed past me and hit the bookcase.”

  Gilley leaned over to me and whispered, “It sounds like the assassin was using a suppressor.”

  “A silencer?” I asked.

  He nodded, a grave look on his face.

  “Then what happened?” I asked.

  “Then I heard more cursing,” Carmen said. “I swear she said something like, ‘I hate it when they run.’”

  A shudder went through me, and Gilley mouthed, they.

  “But you managed to escape,” he said.

  “Yes. I know that house like the back of my hand. There’s a secret door leading from the parlor right to the kitchen, and the parlor is just down the hallway from the library, so I headed there first, ducked through the door, came out into the kitchen, and ran for my life.”

  “Where did you go?” I asked.

  “I hid in the woods for most of that night,” she said. “And then I made my way to the church for the ten a.m. Mass and hid in the basement for a few days—no one goes down there except on Sundays. At night, I snuck food out of the pantry and finally got up the courage to call my sister. I told her everything that’d happened, and we made a plan to run away to Florida together.”

  “Why didn’t you just go to the police?” I asked. I couldn’t figure out why Carmen hadn’t immediately sought help.

  “Because she would’ve found me and killed me,” Carmen said simply. “The Angel of Death always collects.”

  “What does that even mean?” Gilley asked.

  Carmen shook her head and put her fist to her lips. She seemed overwhelmed with fear. “My sister worked for someone,” she said softly. “Someone you don’t talk about outside of their home, you know what I’m saying?”

  “She worked for a criminal,” I said, putting some of it together.

  “Yes. An important man in his . . . business.”

  “He’s a member of the mafia,” Gilley said.

  Carmen made the sign of the cross. “We don’t speak of what he does outside his house!” she snapped.

  “Apologies,” Gilley said. “Sincerely,” he added when Carmen glared at him.

  “Carmen, please continue,” I said. “We’ll respect your warning.”

  Carmen took a deep breath, and she seemed to settle down. “My sister, she heard things. Things that I should have paid attention to. She said that she heard that Miss Heather was making people angry with the way she conducted her business, and I told Sasha that that’s just how Miss Heather was. She wasn’t afraid to push people around. She used to tell me she had to be seen as tough in the construction business because nobody would take her seriously if she wasn’t.

  “Anyway, after Miss Heather was murdered and I made it to the church, I called my sister, and told her what happened. She told me to stay at the church until she could make sure it was safe for me. I waited two days for her to call me back, and when she did, I almost fainted with shock at the story she told me.

  “She said that Miss Heather had definitely angered some very powerful members of her boss’s organization, and that they had sent the Angel of Death after her.”

  “Angel of Death,” I repeated. “That must be our assassin.”

  Carmen nodded. “Sasha said that the Angel had arrived at Miss Heather’s only to find her already dead, and they believed the housekeeper had killed her!”

  Gilley pointed at Carmen. “The housekeeper, meaning you?”

  “Yes!” Carmen said, obviously upset by the accusation. “Me!”

  “It’s a wonder Sasha’s boss didn’t think you did it, Cat,” Gilley said.

  “The Angel of Death must’ve admitted to them that she was the one who broke the punch bowl over Heather’s head, so she knew I hadn’t done it,” I said. “Only she knew that Heather was already dead.”

  Carmen stared at us in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “Heather was dead when the Angel found her, Carmen,” I told her. “The medical examiner concluded that she’d died from some toxic substance being introduced into her system.”

  Again, Carmen stared at me in confusion. “I don’t understand this. Miss Heather was fine when I left for church, and I was only gone an hour and a half.”

  “That’s all that it took,” I said gently. “We believe someone laced the punch with tonic water.”

  Carmen shook her head, “I already told you: Miss Heather wouldn’t allow that in the house, and I tasted your punch to make sure there was no tonic water in it.”

  “Yes,” I said. “At the time that you tasted it,
we believe there was no tonic in it, but someone at that party must’ve known about Heather’s allergy and laced the punch with some tonic water.”

  “But why would Miss Heather die from tonic water?” she said. “She could’ve started itching and called nine-one-one, no?”

  Gilley answered her. “We believe that Heather’s allergy to quinine—the chemical in tonic water that she was reactive to—was so severe that it would’ve caused an immediate catastrophic response to her entire system. She probably felt ill almost immediately, and it likely came on her so overwhelmingly that she wasn’t able to get to her phone and call for help. She would’ve collapsed, gone unconscious, and her organs would’ve started to shut down one by one. Her death would’ve taken a little while, but she would’ve been completely incapacitated from almost the moment it passed her lips.”

  “How do you know all of that?” I asked Gil.

  “I did some research while the bacon was cooking,” he said. “And from that research I discovered that even the smallest of doses would’ve been enough to trigger a systematic shutdown of her system.”

  Carmen’s jaw dropped. “All of that from . . . from . . . tonic water?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Carmen, do you remember anyone at the party bringing a bottle of that in? Or did you perhaps discover a discarded bottle of it in the trash?”

  “No,” she said. “No, nothing like that at all.”

  “So the killer took it with them,” I said to Gilley.

  “Seems like it.”

  Carmen threw up her hands. “All I know is it wasn’t me, and I don’t want any of that dirty money for it either.”

  I blinked. “Dirty money?”

  “Yes—oh, I forgot to finish my story,” she said. “My sister told me that there was a paycheck waiting for me. They wanted to give it to me for killing Miss Heather.”

  Gilley pointed to her. “That’s why the Angel of Death wants to kill you,” he said. “She thinks you stole her paycheck.”

  Carmen nodded. “Yes, but I had nothing to do with it! And still she hunts me like a dog! She killed Father Stephan because he wouldn’t tell her where I was, but he didn’t even know! I was hiding in the basement, and I heard her arguing with him. I crept upstairs, afraid of how it would end, and that’s when I saw her shoot him!”