by Lee Hollis
“You’re lying. I heard you just now. You have something on me. . . .”
His eyes wandered to the framed article resting on the counter. “Why are you looking at that? What’s in there that has you so curious?”
“Nothing. I’m just impressed with your history. You’ve accomplished a lot.”
Alan’s eyes darted back and forth.
He was panicky.
Nervous.
Randy struggled.
Alan gripped Randy’s mouth tighter with his hand and pressed the knife deeper into his neck until a small trickle of blood dripped down his Adam’s apple.
Hayley didn’t want Alan losing it and slashing Randy’s throat.
She had to keep him calm.
“Please, Alan, let Randy go. We’re not here to cause you any trouble,” she said, fighting to steady her voice.
There was a long, agonizing moment of silence as Alan’s mind raced.
He flinched.
Unsure what to do.
His wife, Felicity, was not here to direct him, which was usually the case.
He slowly began to lower the steak knife.
When it was a safe distance from his jugular, Randy made a grab for it. He latched onto Alan’s fist holding the knife and the two men fought for possession of it. They crashed against the stove top, and Hayley screamed, making a mad dash over to them to help her brother, who was losing. She whacked Alan on the wrist with her fist and his grip loosened and the knife fell to the floor.
Hayley scooped it up and held it out toward him. “Stop it, Alan! Stop it right now!”
Alan managed to shove Randy off him and grab him again from behind.
This time he had one arm wrapped around Randy’s neck and a hand pressed against the side of his head. “Drop the knife or with just the right amount of pressure I will break his neck in less than a second!”
Hayley immediately dropped the steak knife.
It clattered to the floor.
Randy was gasping, having trouble breathing.
“Is that how you broke Olivia Redmond’s neck?”
Alan’s lip was quivering.
His ROK Special Forces training had kicked in, but emotionally, he was conflicted about what he was doing, and it showed on his face.
“Were you defending your wife, Felicity’s, honor by killing both Dr. Foley and Olivia Redmond? Is that what happened, Alan? Were they trying to assassinate Felicity’s reputation, knock a few stars off her stellar five-star rating, and so you took matters into your own hands?”
“You’ve got it half right,” a voice said from behind her.
Hayley twisted around to find Felicity Flynn-Chan in a flowery print blouse and pink slacks and a yellow Crusher sun hat to keep her eyes shaded while she worked in the garden.
She clutched a gun that was pointed directly at Hayley.
“Alan only killed Olivia. I was the one who shot that sniveling science geek who dared dis my food!” she spit out.
Hayley sighed.
The rumors were true.
Felicity Flynn-Chan was a certifiable sociopath.
It was at that moment Hayley realized she should have listened to Randy.
They never should have come to the restaurant.
And both she and her brother were about to pay for that mistake with their lives.
Chapter 31
“Those two were ugly thorns in my beautiful rose garden. No one has ever criticized my restaurant! I’ve received the highest compliments from US senators and ex-presidents, movie actors and rock stars! Martha Stewart ate clams alfresco on my patio because all my tables inside were booked, and she loved it! Loved it! And then some nerdy nobody waltzes in here like he’s a food critic for the New York Times, gorges on my oyster platter, and then has a little case of indigestion after he gets home to his sad little apartment and he dares blame me? And he even has the gall to write a scathing review for all to see? Do you think I’m going to let him get away with that?”
“It was a little more than indigestion, Felicity. It was food poisoning,” Hayley said quietly, immediately regretting it.
Felicity waved the gun around angrily. “Who cares? He sullied my good name. And then, not even a month later, that snotty bacon bitch acts like the Queen of England and dares to complain about my fish? Well, I was not going to stand for it! I had already rid the world of that useless Foley character. As much as I wanted Olivia Redmond wiped off the face of this earth, I was not going to tempt fate twice by killing again. No. That would be sloppy.”
“So why not enlist the help of your beloved husband, your dear Alan, the love of your life, who would do anything for you?” Hayley said.
“Yes. It’s not like he’s never killed anyone. Hell, after his stint in Korea’s Special Forces, it was second nature to him,” Felicity said, shrugging. “It was even easier the second time around. Dr. Foley tried to run. I had to line up my shot in just a few seconds and get him before he disappeared behind the trees just the way my father taught me when he took me deer hunting when I was a little girl. Still, if I had missed and he had gotten away, it would have been very messy and complicated. But Olivia, she never saw it coming. Alan stalked her like a North Korean sentry and snuck up behind her, and with one quick snap of the neck, it was done. No fuss. No mess. He’s not just an expert in the kitchen. He excels at killing too. Don’t you, baby?”
Alan smiled at his wife.
A sick, demented, obsessive smile.
Mr. and Mrs. Whack Job.
Hayley made eye contact with Randy, who signaled her he was ready to make a move. Before she could even react, Randy nailed Alan in the foot with his shoe.
Alan howled in pain, loosening his grip slightly.
Randy seized the opportunity to raise his arm and drive his elbow into the bridge of Alan’s nose.
Blood spurted everywhere as Alan let him go and grabbed for his face.
Felicity gasped and jerked the gun in Randy’s direction.
Hayley knew she had to do something.
She lunged at Felicity and tried wrestling the gun away from her.
Felicity fought like a tigress, scratching and biting Hayley with all her might.
Hayley plucked the yellow sun hat off Felicity’s head and jammed it over her face, blinding her and backing her up against the stove all the while still struggling for the gun.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hayley saw Randy jab a knee hard into Alan’s solar plexus. He doubled over, briefly incapacitated.
But not for long.
Randy scooped up the knife from the floor and raced to help his sister, just as Felicity’s finger twisted around the trigger of the gun and pulled back, firing off a shot in Randy’s direction.
Randy stopped in his tracks, a pale, shocked look on his face.
For a brief moment, Hayley’s heart sank.
Had her brother just been shot?
Randy felt his stomach, expecting blood to seep out of his shirt from the bullet wound.
But nothing happened.
Hayley quickly realized the bullet had knocked the knife right out of his hand and it was gone. She tightened her grip on Felicity’s hand holding the gun and slammed it into the stove.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Until the gun went flying out of Felicity’s hand.
It skidded across the floor and underneath the refrigerator.
Hayley shoved Felicity aside and ran to Randy, grabbed him by the shirtsleeve, and they raced out of the kitchen.
She glanced back in time to see Felicity snagging a broom and then crouching down to use the wooden handle to retrieve the gun from underneath the fridge. If she got hold of that gun, she would undoubtedly come after them to finish the job.
Hayley and Randy sprinted out the front door of the restaurant and headed toward her car in the gravel parking lot. But before they could reach it, Alan, a white towel pressed to his nose, burst out a back door, blocking their path. He
stopped, glaring at them, bloodstains on the towel.
He was unarmed.
But he was also military trained.
And Randy’s fighting skills, which he learned in a scene combat class while briefly attending the New York School of Dramatic Arts, may have helped him get the upper hand, along with the element of surprise.
But they were no match for Alan’s training.
And Alan was now madder than a wet hornet and was not about to lose a fight twice.
Felicity came flying out the back door and joined her husband, gun in hand, ready to finally settle the matter.
Hayley and Randy turned and hightailed it into the woods.
A couple of shots rang out, the bullets whizzing a safe distance past them, cracking a few branches on a couple of trees.
Unlike the mellower days of deer hunting with her father, Felicity was in a frenzied state and wasn’t taking the precious time she needed to line up her shot in order to take down her prey.
Hayley and Randy ran deeper and deeper into the woods, whipping around to see Felicity in hot pursuit, her injured husband stumbling behind her.
They kept running.
Faster and faster, like they were competing in the Boston Marathon and were within spitting distance of the finish line.
But Hayley was a recreational runner. Two miles in the park was her limit.
Randy was a hiker, not a runner. His foot landed wrong on a rock and he twisted his ankle, falling to the ground.
Hayley snatched his shirt and hauled him to his feet, resting his arm around her neck and helping him as he jumped on one leg for cover behind a couple of birch trees in full spring foliage bloom.
They sunk to their knees and held each other.
“You keep going. I’ll be fine,” Randy said, gasping for breath.
“Forget it. I’m not leaving you.”
Hayley poked her head around the tree to see if Felicity and Alan were in the vicinity, but she didn’t see any sign of them.
“I think we lost them,” she said.
They continued on slowly, Hayley’s arm around her brother, as he hopped along as best he could, until they spotted a clearing. Beyond that was a thicket of trees through which they saw cars whizzing past.
It was the main road.
They exchanged relieved looks and managed to make it out of the woods to a ditch, climbing up on the side of the road.
They waited for a car to come along.
And one finally did.
A black automobile that was zipping along well above the speed limit.
Hayley waved it down as Randy sat down to massage his throbbing ankle.
The car slowed down.
The window on the passenger side lowered.
Felicity Flynn-Chan smiled menacingly at them.
“We’ve been out searching all over for you two—isn’t that right, babe?”
She turned briefly back at her husband behind the wheel, who glowered at them, pieces of white tissue stuffed up his nostrils, sweat pouring down his face.
She raised the gun and rested it on the car door. “Get in. We’re going to go on a nice little drive to a quiet place where we won’t be disturbed.”
There was no getting away now.
Suddenly a flashing blue light nearly blinded Hayley.
She covered her eyes to see a police cruiser approaching from the opposite direction.
Alan panicked and slammed his foot on the gas pedal.
The Volvo shot off straight at the police cruiser in a high stakes game of chicken. The Volvo blinked first and swerved to the side, missing a head-on collision with the cruiser by mere inches. The car flew off the road and hit a tree with a sickening crunch.
Sergio and Officer Donnie jumped out of their squad car.
Officer Donnie ran to the Volvo while Sergio dashed over to Hayley and Randy.
Sergio’s eyes widened with concern at the sight of his husband on the ground, clearly injured.
“It’s nothing, Sergio, just a twisted ankle,” Randy said, trying to be brave, but his voice was still shaky from their close brush with death.
“How did you know we were out here?” Hayley asked.
“We didn’t. We got a call from a neighbor nearby who heard some shots and called nine-one-one. We were just on our way to check it out.”
Hayley turned to see Officer Donnie handcuffing Felicity; her head was down and her hair was covering her face and her shoulders were hunched over like a woman defeated.
Her husband, Alan, was on the ground, scraped up pretty badly, his nose bleeding even worse now than back at the restaurant.
Their Bonnie and Clyde killing spree was mercifully over.
Chapter 32
When Sonny Lipton called Hayley at the Island Times and requested she come over to his law office immediately, she wasn’t inclined to drop everything and rush right over. Sonny was a young up and coming lawyer and Liddy’s current boyfriend, or gentleman friend, as she preferred calling him. He was also fifteen years younger than her, a sensitive topic Liddy did not relish discussing.
Hayley was slammed that morning. Not only was her regular column due for the paper, the acting CEO of Redmond Meats had e-mailed her asking if she would mind writing a tribute column remembering Olivia Redmond for the company Web site. She quickly agreed but was now swamped with deadlines.
She asked Sonny if she could stop by his office later, but he was insistent. Two minutes later she received an urgent text from Liddy ordering her to get her butt in the car and over to Sonny’s office right now! She checked with Sal to make sure he didn’t have a problem with her slipping out for a few minutes. He didn’t. He never did. He never took his eyes off his desktop computer. He just waved her away and growled something about picking him up a Whoopie Pie from Epi Pizza on her way back.
Ten minutes later Hayley walked up the stairs of Sonny’s office on the second floor of a white two-story building, the first floor housing the Swan Agency, which specialized in real estate sales and insurance.
Liddy greeted her in the small reception area. She was biting her lip and looked as if she was about to burst.
“Liddy, what is it? What’s so important that it couldn’t wait?”
Liddy bounced up and down on the soles of her feet. “Sonny swore me to secrecy, but you’re my best friend—I tell you everything! That’s what I told him! But he made me promise to keep my mouth shut until he had a chance to talk to you first!”
“Talk to me about what?”
Liddy bit her lip harder, trying to keep her mouth from opening and spilling everything. This looked like it was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.
“Hayley, thanks for coming,” Sonny said, his Brooks Brothers light blue shirt a tad wrinkled, his rolled up sleeves accentuating his muscled forearms, and his bright yellow tie with tiny sailboats loosened and askew.
He was a fine-looking young man.
Liddy had definitely scored.
“Come into my office so we can have a little chat,” he said with a slight Maine accent he’d worked hard to get rid of at law school. “Liddy, do you mind waiting out here?”
“To hell with that! Hayley’s my best friend! I’m not leaving her side!” Liddy yelled, grabbing Hayley’s hand and squeezing tightly. “She needs me for support.”
“Is someone suing me?” Hayley asked, suddenly worried.
“No, nothing like that,” Sonny said, ushering them into his office and closing the door. “Have a seat.”
Sonny circled around his desk and sat down. He opened a file in front of him and pulled out a stack of papers.
Liddy plopped down in the only available seat in front of the desk.
Hayley felt like she was playing musical chairs.
And had lost.
Sonny looked up and glared at his girlfriend, who didn’t notice Hayley standing awkwardly next to her. “Honey, do you mind?”
Liddy realized she was hogging the only chair and that this meeting had no
thing to do with her, so she self-consciously stood up and offered Hayley the chair. “You better sit down for this.”
Hayley gulped.
This did not sound good.
She did what she was told.
An agonizing few seconds passed by as Sonny flipped through the pages on his desk.
Liddy placed a comforting hand on Hayley’s shoulders.
“As you may know, I’ve been doing some consulting work for the law firm in New York that represents Redmond Meats. . . .”
“I didn’t know that. Congratulations,” Hayley said, smiling.
“I did! He told me! But once again, all I hear from him all day long is, ‘Liddy, you can’t go blabbing everything I tell you.’”
Sonny glared at Liddy, who motioned with her fingers that she was zipping her lips.
“Anyway, they’ve brought me in to assist the probate of Olivia Redmond’s will. It’s a very complicated document and I’m still sifting through all the articles, but one fact is perfectly clear. Olivia’s husband, Nacho, and her son, Red, are going to get nothing.”
“You mean they’ve been cut out?” Hayley gasped.
“Completely. A portion of her fortune will go to various charities that were dear to her during her life, and many of the properties and assets will be retained by the company, but a good chunk of the estate will go to the only one who truly loved Olivia unconditionally. . . .”
“Who?”
“Pork Chop,” Sonny said with a straight face.
“The pig! Can you believe it?” Liddy screamed before catching herself and stepping back, clasping her hands and bowing her head, desperately trying to keep her mouth shut.
“There is a very clear and specific clause that states that Pork Chop is to enjoy the lifestyle to which he has become accustomed for the duration of his natural life, and that the animal’s court-appointed guardian will retain control over all decisions and finances. After the pig’s death, the remaining fortune will be left to the guardian to spend as he or she may see fit.”
“Are you telling me that the potbellied pig tearing up my house as we speak is worth millions now?”
“Twenty million, to be precise,” Sonny said, looking up from his papers.
“Twenty million?” Hayley gasped.
