Ralph hadn't heard me call him, so he must have gone to the bank right away, leaving me alone with Janice. He'd have no reason to be concerned about that at all. Nobody, except Janice, knew where I was, and I wouldn't be missed for quite a while. I'd told both Susan and Pamela that I wasn't sure I'd join them for the gathering at Pamela's studio, so they wouldn't think anything about it when I didn't show up, especially since I'd mentioned to both of them how tired I felt.
My only hope was Belle, who would realize something was wrong when I didn't come home. Unfortunately, she'd told me to take my time, so she wouldn't start worrying for hours yet. Right now, she and Dennis would be enjoying a barbecue on their patio while the dogs romped in the backyard. Tears trickled down my face as I thought of the peaceful scene, but dwelling on it wasn't helping me get out of my predicament.
By this time, my panic had subsided a bit, and determination began to take hold. The twine Janice had wrapped around my wrists felt terribly tight. I didn't think I could stand it if I had to wait until morning to be rescued. My only hope was to try to undo the knots Janice had tied in the twine.
It was a good thing Janice hadn't gagged me, or I wouldn't be able to use my teeth to do it. She must have figured that she needed only enough time to drive to Sky Harbor in Phoenix and board her flight. Once the plane took off, she'd be on her way to Brazil. Granted, there were a couple stops along the way, but, logistically, it would probably be hard to stop her once she left the United States.
Resolutely, I bent over my right arm and crunched my incisors between the twine of the first knot, trying to loosen it. It gave only slightly. I crunched and pulled for several minutes with my teeth before I succeeded in undoing the first knot, but I felt encouraged that I might be able to undo all of them eventually.
An hour later, I'd finally come to the last knot. Frustrated, I'd stopped and resumed my biting and pulling motions several times, but now that I could see the end in sight, I pressed on.
After I unraveled the last knot, I had to flip the twine off my wrist and around the arm of the chair. Finally, I raised my wrist and yanked it free. Ugly, deep red welts covered my wrist, and my right hand felt numb. I made a fist and released it several times in an attempt to restore better circulation.
Now that my right arm was free, it wouldn't be nearly as hard to free my left arm. Bouncing the chair up and down, I bumped my way across the floor so that I could reach the drawers of Janice's desk.
I pulled the top center drawer open, the same one where she'd kept her gun, and I found I was in luck. Lying neatly in an organizer tray was a pair of scissors with pointed ends. I grabbed them with my right hand and began hacking at the twine that still bound my left wrist. Unfortunately, the scissors weren't especially sharp, so it took several minutes to cut through all the twine. The second I did, I let loose a whoop. Finally, my arms were free!
Of course, I was still locked in the office, but at least I could move around. I stood up and walked back and forth in the small room, rubbing my wrists. The left one looked even worse than the right one. The rough twine would have been irritating enough against delicate skin, but since Janice had wrapped it so tightly, my wrists still hurt, even though I'd removed the twine.
I turned the doorknob on the off-chance that Janice hadn't properly locked the door. Of course, she had, and I'd heard her propping a chair under it in any case. If I wanted to get out of the office, I'd have to break the knob and dislodge the chair.
I examined the door and saw that there was enough of a gap at the bottom to slide a yardstick underneath it. I grabbed the metal measuring stick that Janice kept propped up in the corner behind her desk. Then I lay on the floor in front of the door and slid the yardstick under it. I began poking it this way and that until I connected with one of the chair's legs. Then I pushed it steadily, until I heard the chair clatter to the floor.
That obstacle removed, I looked around for something to batter the door handle with. Although Janice kept a bronze wolf on her desktop, I bypassed it and looked for something else. I couldn't quite bring myself to use a piece of artwork so roughly, but I knew I'd need a heavy object to break the door handle, and nothing else in sight fit the bill.
Desperately, I yanked open the other desk drawers. I found a small metal toolbox in the bottom drawer. I upended it on the top of the desk to empty its contents, but after hitting the doorknob with the little metal box a few times, I could tell that it wasn't heavy enough to do the job.
I examined the knob more closely and could have kicked myself for not noticing that the knob's screws were on the side of the door facing me, not on the outside. All I had to do was remove the screws and dissassemble the knob, and I had just the right tool to do it. Among the items I'd dumped onto Janice's desktop, I found a Phillips screwdriver. I was in business. It took me only a couple of minutes to remove the screws, take off the door handle on my side and reach through the opening to thrust the outer handle off the door. I pushed the door open and went into the hallway.
I felt tired and hurt and desperate to use the restroom, but I was free.
Chapter 34
I ran down the hallway to search for the light switch. When I entered the gallery, I heard pounding on the gallery door, and I could see the beam of a flashlight moving back and forth in the dark. As soon as I flipped on the light switch, I ran to the door. For a split second, I imagined that Janice had returned to the gallery, but the thought disappeared almost as soon as it came to mind. In the highly unlikely event that Janice had returned, she would have let herself in with her key.
“Mike! Am I ever glad to see you!” I said, as I opened the gallery door.
He took one look at my swollen wrists, marked with unsightly red welts, and asked me what had happened.
“I was kidnapped; that's what happened. Janice threatened me with her gun and tied me to a chair in her office. Then she locked me in.” My words tumbled out quickly.
“Whoa! Slow down, Amanda. Let's take it one step at a time. You said Janice locked you in, but Janice is dead, remember?” He looked at me with concern.
“I'm not hallucinating, Mike; I promise you. Janice is very much alive. Her twin sister Judith was the one who was murdered. Janice killed her own sister, and she's been impersonating her ever since.”
Mike shook his head in confusion.
“Didn't you come here looking for me? I thought maybe my neighbors alerted the police when I didn't come home.”
“No, I came here to take Judith Warren into custody because she's wanted in Texas.” He frowned. “Show me where you were locked up.”
I was afraid that Mike didn't believe a word I'd told him, and time was running out, but maybe if he saw the scene of my imprisonment, he'd take me more seriously. I led him down the hallway so he could see the scene for himself. The chair Janice had propped under the doorknob lay on its side, and the metal parts of the knob were strewn about, while two lengths of the twine Janice had used to tie me up were still lying on the office floor, along with parts of the doorknob.
Mike emitted a long, low whistle.
“Look, Mike, Janice is on her way to the airport in Phoenix, and she's booked on a flight to Brazil. She's using Judith's name. If somebody doesn't stop her before she gets on that plane, it'll be too late,” I said urgently.
“OK, Amanda. All this business about switching identities is above my pay grade. The higher-ups will have to sort that out, but we can alert the Phoenix police to pick her up before she boards the flight. The warrant's for Judith Warren, and you say she's booked under Judith's name. You don't happen to know which airline or the flight number, do you?”
I closed my eyes and tried to picture the boarding pass. “I'm sorry, Mike. All I remember is that she goes through Mexico City and Santiago, if that helps. And the flight leaves soon.”
“I'll call it in. Maybe the Phoenix police can apprehend her.”
He used his cell phone, rather than his radio, to call the station, and he didn't mentio
n a word about Janice's impersonation of her sister, although he reported that I'd been held at gunpoint and tied up.
“Let's go on down to the station, Amanda,” he said after he finished the call. “You can give all the details to Sergeant Martinez.”
“What about Lieutenant Belmont?”
Mike shrugged. “I don't know. He hasn't been in all day.”
I retrieved my purse from under the counter and turned out the lights. Mike made sure the gallery door locked after he pulled it closed on our way out.
When he opened the door of his police cruiser for me, I asked if I could follow him in my own car.
“I don't think that's a good idea, Amanda. You're shaking like a leaf.”
So I was, but I hadn't realized it until he told me. As I looked down at my trembling arms, a car screeched to a halt in back of the police car, and Dennis jumped out.
“Are you all right, Amanda?” he yelled.
“Yes. Could you let Belle know? I have to go to the police station to file a report.”
“I'll do better than that. I'll go get Belle, and we'll meet you there.”
When Mike and I arrived at the station, we saw a woman going in ahead of us carrying a pizza box. She gave it to Sergeant Martinez, along with a kiss, and I recognized her as Dawn, the gallery member who had a ceramics studio with her mother Dorothy Weber. I remembered that Dawn's last name was Martinez. I hadn't made the connection before, but now I realized the sergeant must be her husband.
Dawn took one look at me and insisted I sit down while she went to find a first-aid kit. She carefully applied antiseptic to the raw skin on my wrists while I related my story to her husband.
He looked doubtful when I told him that Janice was pretending to be Judith, but Dawn saved the day when she commented that she'd thought something was odd about Judith.
“So Janice has been there the whole time,” Dawn said. “I thought Judith acted just like Janice, but everybody I mentioned it to passed her behavior off as normal for a twin.”
“She admitted to me that she killed her sister. She said she threw her gun at Judith and hit her on the head. She claims she didn't mean to hit her.”
“I don't know about that,” Dawn said. “Janice has a mean streak.”
“That'll be for the jury to decide,” her husband said. “Lieutenant Belmont's going to have egg all over his face on this one,” he muttered as the station door opened.
Belle and Dennis burst in, but they weren't alone. Laddie and Mr. Big had come with them. Belle, Laddie, Mr. Big, and I came together for a group hug, and Laddie stuck to my side like glue as I told my incredible story for the third time.
Meanwhile, Sergeant Martinez alerted the Phoenix police that a fugitive was about to leave the country.
Sergeant Martinez didn't object to our canine companions' invasion of the police station, but, after an hour or so, he did tell me I might as well go home, although I should be available the next day to sign an official statement and speak to Lieutenant Belmont or the chief, if he came back from his fishing trip early.
“What about Janice?” I asked. “Will the Phoenix police let you know whether they were able to stop her?”
“I'll see what I can find out,” Sergeant Martinez said, as he picked up the phone.
After a brief conversation, punctuated by “yes,” “right,” and “good” on Sergeant Martinez's end, he gave us a thumbs-up sign.
“They took her off the flight just as the last boarding call was announced. She's in custody now.”
“She almost got away with it,” I said.
“She came close,” Sergeant Martinez agreed.
“I think it's time to go home now, Amanda,” Belle suggested.
“I think you're right.”
Laddie and I piled into the back seat of Belle's car, and Mr. Big hopped in behind us. The dogs seemed happy to have some extra excitement in their lives.
“Let's pick up your car tomorrow, Amanda,” Dennis said.
“Sounds good to me,” I leaned back and closed my eyes while I petted Laddie with my right hand and Mr. Big with my left. I couldn't wait to get home.
As Dennis was about to pull into his driveway, a bizarre scene unfolded on the sidewalk in front of my house.
A man held both hands in the air while another man stood behind him.
“That's Greg,” Belle cried as Dennis stopped the car. “But I don't recognize the other guy.”
I leaned forward. Now that they'd moved under the street lamp, I could see them more clearly.
“I do,” I said. “That's my ex-husband.”
We all jumped out of the car, and Laddie ran to Ned, but when he didn't lower his arms, Laddie returned to my side.
“What's going on, Greg?” Dennis asked.
“After last night's incident, I thought I'd drive by and check Amanda's house. I found this joker poking around.”
“I was not,” Ned protested. “I was waiting for Amanda to come home.”
“You can put the gun away, Greg. This is Ned, my ex-husband, although I have no idea what he's doing here.”
“OK, fella,” Greg said reluctantly. “This isn't a gun, anyway.” He held up a hard plastic tubular container. “I thought it might feel like one without the cap on it. It's the bottle for my high blood pressure meds. Fooled you, though,” he told Ned.
Ned looked disgusted that he'd been taken in by Greg's ruse.
“Were you here last night?” I asked Ned point blank.
Ned shifted uncomfortably. “I thought I might drop by to surprise you.”
“In the middle of the night? You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry, Amanda. Uh, could I talk to you alone for a minute?”
“Say what you have to say, Ned. It's late, and I'm tired. My friends can hear whatever you have to say.”
Belle, Dennis, and Greg stood their ground.
“I think I've made a mistake. I was hoping we could talk about getting back together.”
I almost laughed in his face. “Go home, Ned. Go back to your wife and your baby. I have a new life here, and I don't want to go back to my old one.”
“But you can't possibly be happy here,” Ned said, “in a tiny house a quarter of the size you're used to.”
“You're wrong, Ned. I am happy here.”
Despite my financial problems, my struggle to get my new art business off the ground, and having been locked in Janice's office tied to a chair, I realized it was true.
Chapter 35
As it turned out, Ned's unexpected visit wasn't the only reminder of my old life in Kansas City that weekend. When I checked my email late Sunday afternoon, I found a message from a Kansas City resident who'd attended the party given by the judge and his wife. She'd seen the commissioned painting I'd made for them and wanted to inquire whether I had time in my schedule to paint a scene of her backyard for her. She'd attached several photos showing blossoming fruit trees and mentioning that she loved my expressionistic style. I didn't waste any time responding to her query, and by the end of the week, we had a contract signed.
I also paid a visit to the real estate agent I'd met at the arts and crafts fair. Buster, her English springer spaniel, greeted me at the door, wiggling with excitement at having a visitor. After spending some time with him, I couldn't wait to capture the personality of the playful, energetic dog on canvas. Although painting his beautiful brown-and-white coat and soulful eyes required technical skill, bringing out his personality in a portrait meant going a step beyond, but that extra step was the difference between a mundane picture and a fascinating portrait, and I had every intention of painting a fascinating portrait of the lively spaniel.
With two commissioned paintings in the works, my financial situation was looking up. I resolved to stick to a stricter, more regimented work schedule than I'd had since I'd moved to Lonesome Valley.
A smaller boost to my income came when the woman who'd ordered two tie-dyed scarves from me told her friends where she'd order
ed them. After I received a few more scarf orders, I decided to make several to display and sell during my Friday night studio tours. Although a scarf sale netted a fraction of the price of a painting, those sales added up, and I soon found that I almost always sold a few scarves during the studio tours, but I seldom sold a painting then.
Although my art business fared well in the weeks following Janice's arrest, there was one part of it that remained up in the air—the Roadrunner Gallery. Even though Janice was confined in the county jail, awaiting trial, she still wanted to control the gallery, but it soon became clear that she'd have to sell it to pay her attorney.
Of course, I shared all the latest news of the gallery with Belle. She'd first heard about the roller-coaster ride with my gallery membership the day of my interview when I'd been sure my membership application would be rejected, and we'd brainstormed ideas about what I should do.
* * *
“Mmm, I love this pie,” Belle said, as we sat at my little table on a sunny morning in May, enjoying the apricot cream pie I'd made the night before.
“Warm up?” I asked as I picked up the coffee pot.
“Yes, thanks. So what's the scoop? You said you had some news.”
“Hot off the presses. Susan called me a little while ago. You know that Janice has been negotiating a sale of the Roadrunner's building with both Brooks and Pamela.”
“You told me she was pitting one against the other, trying to get an exorbitant price.”
“That's right, and I'm afraid Pamela had just about come to the end of her rope. Her husband agreed it would be a good investment, but he never wanted to pay a price that would be substantially over market value.”
“So Brooks wins?”
“That's just it. He doesn't. Janice really doesn't want Brooks to put his own gallery in the Roadrunner space. From what Susan tells me, Janice is appalled at the prospect, so she's decided not to sell the building, after all.”
“But I thought she needed the money to pay her legal fees.”
Artistic License to Kill Page 19
