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Organized to Death

Page 27

by Jan Christensen


  She took the gun out of her pocket and aimed it at Hank’s chest.

  He stiffened. “Don’t.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Why was Tina not surprised to see Hank’s Jaguar parked in front of Betsy’s house? She fumbled for her purse. It was too large—might get in her way. She removed the gun and put it in her jacket pocket, leaving her pocketbook on the passenger seat.

  She hurried up the walkway, her hair immediately plastered to her skull as the rain came down in torrents. The drapes were drawn across the front window, but a slight gap let her look into the living room.

  She gasped when she saw Hank standing by the fireplace, Betsy a few steps away, pointing a gun at him. She almost cried out but put her hand over her mouth. And she hadn’t brought her cell phone. Should she go back, call the police?

  Even through the glass she heard the pop from the gun, saw a flash. Her eyes closed automatically, but she forced them open in time to see Hank crumpling to the floor.

  “No!” she screamed.

  She pulled out her gun, aimed at Betsy as she’d been taught, feet apart, left hand supporting her right wrist, and fired through the glass. Again, her eyes closed. A few pieces of glass hit her face but most fell inside.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw Betsy, mouth open wide, screaming, falling backward. Her elbows hit the floor and the gun went off again. Tina stood as if paralyzed, wondering if she should fire at Betsy one more time. Somehow she just couldn’t do it.

  She rushed to the front door, found it unlocked, and ran into the living room. Betsy lay on her back, eyes wide and glassy, a gaping wound in her neck. Tina had aimed for her chest, but the gun must have recoiled and the shot gone high. Tina grabbed Betsy’s weapon, even though she knew Betsy was dead, then turned to Hank.

  “Red,” he said so low she almost didn’t hear him. “You gonna shoot me, too?”

  She looked down, saw both guns in her hands, and sank to the floor next to him. Carefully, she set the guns aside and looked for the bullet wound. Found it in his chest and tried to hide her alarm. Not much blood. “Hang on,” she said. “Gotta find a phone.”

  “My pocket,” Hank managed to say, then he passed out.

  She swore and fumbled for his cell.

  CHAPTER 47

  Two days later, Tina entered Hank’s hospital room clutching a bouquet of yellow mums and wearing a forced smile.

  She was glad to find him alone. She hadn’t seen him since watching them put him in the ambulance at Betsy’s house. Because she wasn’t family, they wouldn’t let her into ICU, so she’d had to wait until they transferred him to a private room. The gunshot had nicked a lung but otherwise hadn’t done any life-threatening damage. They’d patched him up, stuck him in ICU for almost two whole days, and told him he could go home soon if he behaved himself.

  He watched her come toward him, a slight smile on his lips. He looked pale, and a huge bandage covered most of his otherwise bare chest.

  Her legs wobbled, and she clung to the bedrail for a moment before bending over and kissing him on a scratchy cheek. Then she sat down in the visitor’s chair, still holding the flowers, their scent barely competing with the hospital odor.

  “You missed Crystal’s funeral,” she said. “Cheap way to get out of going.”

  He smiled. Her heart seemed to sink to her stomach. She took a huge breath, let it out, and forced herself to relax into the chair. Two days of tense, taut nerves took its toll.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  She looked at the flowers. “It’s nothing.” She was embarrassed. Why was she embarrassed? She didn’t know. So she avoided the issue. “I’ll get a vase.”

  “I meant for saving my life.”

  “Oh, that. Any time.”

  “You’re cute.”

  She stiffened. “You have to stop calling me that if we’re going to continue to be friends.”

  “Well, you are. And I hope we’re going to be more than friends.”

  She stood up, looked around the room for a container for the flowers. “I guess I’ll have to ring for the nurse for these.”

  “Not yet. I imagine you want to know what happened.”

  He’d seen through her act. She placed the flowers on his bedside tray and sat down again. “Yes.”

  Hank shifted on the bed. “The more I thought about it after we hung up, the more I figured it was probably Betsy who murdered Crystal. Just seemed to fit. But we still had the same problem—no hard evidence. So I decided to pay the lady a call.”

  Tina fingered the worry stone in her pocket. “I thought you would.”

  “I told her I was helping with the investigation and she let me in. I said we’d come to the conclusion that the murder had something to do with a secret Dr. Stevenson had. I meant about Ted. But she thought I meant about the doctor giving that drug after the bulletin came out.” Hank reached for his water glass and took a couple of sips.

  “She was protecting his reputation?”

  “Yes. She was still in love with him after all these years. She told me he’d broken up with her before they knew she was pregnant. When he found out, he paid for her to go to Ohio and give the baby up for adoption. She still seemed heartbroken about that.”

  “And Crystal found out about the drug, but how did Betsy know that?”

  “Crystal visited Dr. Stevenson. And in one of his ramblings, he told Betsy. She always checked on him a couple of times a week.”

  “What did Crystal want from Dr. Stevenson? She wasn’t blackmailing him, was she?”

  “No. She wanted an apology. She wanted him to give a public statement in case some women were out there whose mothers had taken the drug and didn’t know the possible consequences and the need for those important yearly checkups. She said she was giving him a chance to take it to the media, or she would. But before she could do anything else, Betsy paid her a visit. Apparently Crystal took her to the back sunroom to talk, and when Betsy pulled the gun, Crystal ran to Rachel’s house. And got as far as the nursery.”

  Tina shuddered. “Certifiable,” she whispered.

  “Yes. But it’s over now.”

  “How’s Mitzi?”

  Hank smiled. “As usual, you’re always concerned about everyone else. She’ll be fine. It’s pretty amazing. She seems to have simply made the decision to pull herself out of that long blue funk and get on with her life. What she and I have been wondering is how are you?”

  “Well,” Tina said, letting go of the worry stone and taking her hand out of her pocket, resting it in her lap, “I’m not happy I shot and killed someone. But I’m positive Betsy would have shot you again and again like she did Crystal until she killed you, so I can live with it.”

  “Then it wasn’t because you killed someone that you gave up your practice.”

  “No, but someone died. Committed suicide.”

  “Ah. And you’ve blamed yourself ever since. I think you can consider the books balanced since you saved my life. How can I ever repay you?”

  She grinned. “I’ll think of something.”

  Hank laughed. “I was afraid of that. And by the way, I’m not really an undercover cop.”

  She was surprised, but then not surprised. “Then what are you?”

  “It’s a secret.”

  THE END

  About the Author

  BIO: I grew up in New Jersey and now live in Texas. I’ve had over fifty short stories published in various places over the last dozen years, two of which were nominated for a Derringer Award. Two others won a Fire to Fly award and the Mysterical-e 2000 Award for Best Story Previous to 2001. I write a regular column for Mysterical-e about reading and can be found on Facebook, location Corpus Christi and Twitter as janschristensen. Learn more at my website: www.janchristensen.com And on my blog: www.janchristensen.com/blog

  Please look for my other novels:

  Sara’s Search is available for the Kindle. Contact me if you want a new autographed hardcover copy. I still have some of the orig
inal editions available.

  Revelations is also available for Kindle and in print at Amazon.com.

  My new short story collections are all titled Warning Signs. Check out the mile marker on each cover for the number of the collection. These are collections of, usually, three previously published stories, all in Kindle format.

  There is another series of single short stories published by Untreed Reads—The Artie Crimes. If you search for “Artie Crimes Christensen,” you should be able to find them anywhere ebooks are sold. Or simply go to my website, find the covers and click on any of them to learn more.

 

 

 


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