Marriage Vow Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  I rolled my eyes. "We're on the first floor." I hobbled over to the window and unlocked it. There'd be a five-foot drop from the window, but that was nothing compared to being hit by a car.

  "What should I do?" Riley whispered.

  Opening the window, I straddled the sash. "If you're not going to get in the bed, you just walk out the way you came. Kevin will be in a pizza-induced coma soon. He won't even notice that you're not wearing a coat."

  Gauging the drop, I grabbed my purse and phone and fell to the ground outside. I didn't stop until I was a good four blocks away. Every muscle in my body screamed at me, but I needed to have a normal gait to avoid suspicion from passersby, so I pushed through it.

  First things first, I needed to get to my house before the hospital knew I was gone. Then I needed transportation and a safe house. That would be harder to come by in Who's There, but I'd figure something out. Maybe I could live in Betty's closet. I was fairly certain that girl could be trusted.

  The cold helped with the pain as I walked calmly to my house, zigzagging in between alleys and streets. It took longer than I thought to get there, but I managed to arrive at my back door in fifteen minutes.

  You might think that breaking into your own house is easy. And you'd be right because I always left a key in a can of ant poison next to a dozen dead carpenter ants (I took a cue from the twins' taxidermy dioramas) on the back deck. It didn't take long to get into the garage and my house.

  There was very little time to organize my getaway. It was broad daylight, so at least I didn't need the lights on. I filled a duffel bag with a ghost chip for my cell, nonperishable food (aka junk food that wouldn't expire until the next decade), bottles of water, my laptop, cell charger, a couple of changes of clothes, a few spy trifles, and my gun with two extra magazines.

  As I walked through the kitchen, I spotted a picture of Rex and me on the fridge. Kelly always tried to take me shopping for picture frames, but magnets are just as good, right?

  Rex gave me an amused grin as I sat next to him on a picnic table bench, talking animatedly. I could almost feel the weight of his arm around my shoulders and the warmth from his body. We'd been at a cookout at Kelly's, and someone took that picture. I ran my thumb over his face as tears pricked my eyelids.

  "I'm going to find you," I whispered. "And I'm not waiting one more minute to do it."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I crossed the street and went into Rex's house. Bart was asleep on the sofa with the two cats and dog on top of him. For a moment I thought maybe I should check to see if he was still alive, but then I thought better of it. He didn't need to know I'd been here.

  Rex kept a spare set of keys in the kitchen, and I snagged them and went to the garage. If I was lucky, they hadn't impounded his SUV. Unlucky? Well, I'd have to figure something else out.

  Bingo. I dumped my stuff into the front seat, pulled the stocking cap lower on my head, and headed out. The only problem I had was where to go. Like I said, it only took five minutes to get anywhere in this town. Soon I'd hit the country. I needed a place to crash where no one would find me.

  I started looking for empty houses for sale. Very few houses were sold in January, so it would be less likely to have a showing. Also, it would be furnished and have power—always a plus.

  I drove by a few that were in busy neighborhoods. No good. There were a couple of McMansions on the edge of town, but that wouldn't work since real estate agents probably checked in on the nice properties more regularly to guard their commission.

  What about a spot on Main Street? We had a few tall buildings with empty lofts above. It would provide a good vantage spot for watching the comings and goings. But it would be busy too. My bridal store was there, as was a Chinese restaurant and Oleo's, my favorite burger place.

  The smell of cooking meat would probably drive me mad with hunger though. And Ferguson Taxidermy was next door, so if Rex's sister Ronni spotted me, she'd report me. No, this wouldn't work at all. Much as I liked the business idea, it would be hard to find a place out of the way that was maybe closed for the season…

  That was it! I drove to the edge of town to the perfect place. Parking the car was tricky because if they were looking for Rex's missing car, it might give me away. I pulled into a spot at the hospital and hiked several blocks to the perfect safe house.

  * * *

  "It's her again!" Dickie the scarlet macaw shrieked. Always ready to heckle me, the bird often remembered dialogue muttered by the cranky, awkward teenage boy who cleaned the aviary and fed the birds.

  Mr. Fancy Pants, the king vulture, spotted me right away and started pacing in his enclosure. Oh crap. I didn't pack any Girl Scout Cookies. The bird was smitten with Peanut Butter Patties especially and went to great lengths to get them—something I learned when my troop first encountered him in Washington, DC.

  He was on loan from the Smithsonian's National Zoo, and I was his sponsor, which meant I paid for his upkeep and broke in regularly to share my troubles with him. He was a very good listener, as long as you brought cookies.

  If you've never seen a king vulture before, imagine a cartoon bird with crazy coloring that looked like a schizophrenic toddler painted it. White bodies with black trim, their black and purple bald heads have light stubble on them. The eyes are huge, and sometimes look like they are going in different directions. The beak is topped with a blaze orange wattle. Looking at one brings to mind both astonishment and confusion.

  "Nobody ever listens to me, and I have great ideas!" Dickie complained.

  I let myself into Fancy Pants' enclosure and sat down on a huge fake branch. The macaw jumped up beside me, eyeing him with his cartoon-like googly eyes. Rummaging through my duffel, I found the Oreos Riley had given me. I really didn't want to share, but the bird wasn't going to be very happy if I didn't give him something. I was like his crack dealer.

  Dickie squawked, "My graphic novel has a zombie Pegasus!"

  I crushed the Oreos and set them on the branch between us. King vultures have an excellent sense of smell. And Mr. Fancy Pants was no exception. While keeping at least one of his eyes fixed on me, he snatched up a cookie fragment and chewed, or did whatever the equivalent of that was.

  "Where's my teddy bear? Where's Sauron?" Dickie said. That was the second Lord of the Rings reference in a couple of days.

  The Oreos were a hit as Fancy Pants devoured the lot. I crushed a few more and set them between us. The zoo would be the perfect place to stay. Especially the aviary. There was the janitor-kid who also fed the birds once a day. If they were on the same schedule they were this fall, I was good for at least the next fifteen hours.

  "I don't know if you've heard," I said quietly, "but Rex is missing. He's been gone a week, and no one knows where he is."

  Fancy Pants, finished with the cookies, began to preen his feathers as I told the raptor my sad story.

  "Mom!" Dickie squealed. "They're not comic books! They're collectibles!"

  Either the kid was taking Dickie home with him at night, or he talked to his mother on the phone when he was here. He might be spending too much time here complaining to birds, when he should be trying to deal with the issues that kept girls away from him.

  I finished my story, and the tears started to come in an avalanche of emotion. Fancy Pants stopped what he was doing and stared at me. He brought his face closer to mine, eyes on my eyes.

  But I couldn't stop. The dam had broken, and the reservoir was emptying out. Everything that had gone wrong exploded in a deluge of sorrow and self-pity. I just let it out, like I had with Riley.

  Fancy Pants set his head on my shoulder as I sobbed. It was like a hug, which was nice, or he was thinking I'd die afterward and he'd get dessert. When the tears stopped, I wiped my eyes and turned to see a single feather in his beak. He set it in my hand and put his head back on my shoulder.

  "Nobody loves me!" Dickie screamed.

  It was getting late, and I made a makeshift bed in a corner of the enc
losure. Fancy Pants fell asleep on his branch, and my mind drifted to the dreams I'd had lately. I'd completely ignored them. But it seemed as though my brain was saying that Riley's theory, that Rex and I had a past somehow, was true.

  The mind is a strange thing. Sometimes it lies. Was it possible that Riley put that suggestion in my head and my imagination was running amok with it? Or was there a nugget of truth to the idea?

  I thought back to my college days at the University of Iowa. Rex once told me he went to Iowa State, so few chances for us to mingle there. After that, I'd joined the CIA and was dispatched all over the world, which made meeting even less likely.

  There wasn't any familial connection. At least, Mom and Dad didn't think so. If there was, we would've found it by now. So what was the connection?

  And if there was a connection, did that mean the crimes were directed at both of us? Wait…Lana knew both of us when she'd been here before. It would make sense that she knew about us, the girls, and all that. And she was more likely to find my replacement at the CIA than Vy Todd or the others.

  Did that mean Lana was the kidnapper and killer?

  Something in the back of my mind said there was something else. Riley had suggested we'd met before we'd actually met. But try as I might, I couldn't find the answer there. My dreams made it look like Rex did something before I did…walking to the crossroads, playing trumpet. Whatever our connection, maybe we hadn't met but our paths had intersected.

  That was an interesting idea. I pulled out my cell and inserted a ghost chip. That should put off tracking me.

  "Merry?" Kelly answered on the first ring. "Where are you? Everyone is looking for you!"

  "Are you alone?" I asked.

  "I'm giving Finn a bath, so yes, I'm alone," she said with a hint of irritation.

  "Do you think it's possible that Rex and I could have crossed paths years before we met?"

  "What? How would I know that?" Kelly said, her voice punctuated by the squeals of a happy toddler.

  "Riley suggested it. He thinks we are both targeted, and that might be why."

  There was silence for a moment. "I'll have to think on that."

  "Call me," I warned. "But don't let anyone know I talked to you."

  She sighed. "This is crazy. Turn yourself in. You didn't do anything, and eventually they'd figure that out. But going on the run makes you look guilty."

  "No. I can't find Rex if I'm locked up. We have one more clue, and I want to be there when it's delivered."

  "Then be careful!" Kelly said.

  I agreed and hung up. Looking at my watch told me I'd been here for several hours. And I was hungry. Mr. Fancy Pants had eaten all of my Oreos, so I'd have to find something else to eat.

  Reaching inside my bag, I felt a can of tuna. Why did I grab that? That was for the cats. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers. I pulled the can out and went to pull the pop tab when I felt something on the bottom.

  Taped to the can was a folded sheet of paper. I swallowed hard. Was this the last clue? Very carefully, I pulled it off the can and unfolded it.

  There's no time for a puzzle clue…You'd better be fast to find this Something Blue.

  What did that mean? I read it again. The killer was getting impatient, or they would've created a crossword puzzle. And yet, this was a puzzle, because I had no idea what it meant. The paper itself was some sort of stationary that featured a cabin. Why did the kidnapper change paper? It had to mean something.

  And attaching it to the bottom of a tuna tin? Why do that? They must've thought I'd feed the cats and see it.

  You'd better be fast to find this Something Blue.

  Why would something be blue? A chill ran through me. It was winter, so there was the idea that skin turned blue when freezing. Worse yet, if it referred to a living being, that someone outside might die of exposure. I looked at the cabin again. The only cabin I knew about was the one in the middle of town in the park. Owned by the historical society, it would be closed for the season.

  I ran all the way to Rex's car and tore off before closing my door. I'd better be wrong about this. It was late at night, which meant I'd be the only car racing through town. That would make me stand out. I'd also have to drive past the police station.

  But if I was right, I didn't care if I got caught.

  I slowed down a little on Main Street and pulled up to the cabin and parked. There were fresh tracks in the snow. Someone had been here in the last couple of hours. I pulled my coat around me, unsure if I was shivering because it was cold or because I was terrified.

  I followed the tracks behind the cabin and spotted a small cage in the snow. Something was inside.

  "Philby!" I called out as I ran to the cage, threw the door open, and stuffed one very angry cat into my coat.

  Yeoooow! My cat screamed at me.

  Grabbing the cage, I ran to the car and started it up to get the heater going. My cat was ice cold but probably stayed alive by sheer fury. She was shivering uncontrollably inside my coat as I drove off, using side roads to get to the zoo.

  Yeoooooow! she chastised.

  I couldn't take her home or to Rex's house. The police had most likely found out I'd taken the car. Those two houses would be watched. By the time I pulled up to the zoo, Philby had stopped shivering. Her paws were still cold, but she seemed out of the woods as far as hypothermia was concerned.

  I couldn't stay in the car all night. People would notice an unfamiliar car parked and running. Once I was sure Philby was better, I pushed her down into my coat, grabbed the cage, and climbed the fence into the zoo.

  There was only one problem. As I entered the aviary, Philby's head popped out of the top of my coat. Her pupils instantly dilated when she saw what she thought was an endless buffet of prey.

  Uh-oh.

  "No! You can't eat these birds!" I hissed.

  Philby was trilling at the birds, which was her way of trying to hypnotize them to climb into her mouth. Usually she did this in the front window where she wasn't a threat. But now, one leap and she'd be free to chase birds as big as her. I didn't know what she was thinking.

  I closed my arms around her to hold her in my coat as I advanced to Mr. Fancy Pants' enclosure. What was I doing bringing her here? And why was I taking her to a place where she could trap a bird?

  Although Mr. Fancy Pants was bigger than her, my cat had an overly optimistic view of her odds. I sat on the floor in my corner until she was fully warmed up. Then I'd have to put her back into the cage.

  She wouldn't like that.

  Mr. Fancy Pants hopped over to us, his eyes fixed on the cat who thought she could destroy him. He cocked his head completely to the right side then the left. Then he hopped closer.

  Philby was chattering now, convinced she was hypnotizing her prey into lying down and waiting patiently until she could kill and eat him. Mr. Fancy Pants was probably hoping she was dead so he could eat her.

  "I don't wanna sort the recyclables!" Dickie shrieked.

  At that moment, all hell broke loose. Philby lunged out of my coat toward the vulture, who took off into the air. He landed on a perch about six feet up.

  Not to be deterred, Philby scaled the fake branch and started jumping into the air in order to catch her prey.

  Mr. Fancy Pants just stared down at her while she bobbed up and down in the air. This was going to end badly. Even though Philby was tough as nails, she was also a possible meal for the raptor.

  "Philby! Stop it!" I shouted as I tried to catch the obese cat, who looked like a beach ball with fur on a trampoline.

  Mr. Fancy Pants decided enough was enough and flew toward the closed door. He didn't slow down. Did he expect me to open it? I raced to the door and flung it open just before he made contact. That was close.

  Philby ran into the main area of the aviary, transfixed by the flying food around her. Little birds chirped loudly, staying as high as they could, while the big birds climbed higher in their enclosures, unaware that they were safe.


  "Philby!" I screamed as I ran around like a lunatic, trying to capture a rotund cat who was now miraculously spry.

  "Philby!" shouted Dickie. "Philby!"

  The cat froze and turned toward the macaw, who was on a perch about four feet off the floor.

  "Oh no you don't!" I ran as she ran.

  While I didn't like the macaw, I didn't want him to become my cat's dinner either. Dickie sat there, shrieking the cat's name, and I was envious because Philby didn't answer to me. I was almost to the pole when I skidded and fell.

  My only hope was that Philby wouldn't be able to jump that high. It was a weak hope, because that cat was capable of anything. That was when I noticed that the feline Hitler wasn't slowing down. I guess once you get bulk like that moving, it's hard to slow down.

  I was wrong. Philby connected with the pole, hard, then looked up to receive his prey. Dickie flew and started circling the room, looking like a really expensive cat toy. Meanwhile, Mr. Fancy Pants was sneaking up on Philby.

  "Philby! Come here!" I shouted as I crawled toward her.

  "Philby! Philby!" Dickie screeched.

  The vulture had his wings spread but was running across the floor. This wasn't going to end well. The bird had more weapons than the cat. I had to do something to stop Mr. Fancy Pants.

  And then I had it. I waited until Fancy Pants was almost on top of her and shouted, "Bobb!"

  Philby closed her eyes and hissed violently, shooting backward like a deflating balloon and skidding into the oncoming raptor. This was a useful tool I'd discovered when Philby moved in. Her previous owner had been named Bobb, with two b's, and he wasn't very nice. Fancy Pants went down like a vulture-shaped bowling pin. The two animals scrambled to get to their feet, but I scooped up my cat.

  Half an hour earlier, this cat had been left to freeze to death. Now she was in the ultimate hunting ground. I wondered what went through her mind as I popped her into the cage and closed it.

  I spent the next ten minutes luring the vulture back into his enclosure. He was convinced that every other bird had Girl Scout Cookies and eyed them with what he probably thought was a threatening look, but it really came off as goofy.