Miz Scarlet and the Holiday Houseguests (A Scarlet Wilson Mystery #3)

by Sara M. Barton

  Chapter Eleven --

  “I’m going to have to insist,” Larry told him firmly. “We have to go or we’ll be late.”

  “I don’t want to turn the pretty lady down, especially when she’s made us such a nice offer,” the conniving creep responded, pushing his hostage further into the hallway.

  “We have a reservation,” she reminded him once again.

  “We’ll cancel it, sugarplum.” He leaned over and bit her earlobe. Larry winced, struggling to contain her disgust. That just seemed to excite him.

  A shiver of fear went through me, so I forced myself to turn away, hoping to hide it. It’s a good thing Max and Kenny are here. And thank God Mickey isn’t. I could see the unspoken tug-of-war going on between them as they stood there, arms entangled. Larry was desperate to grab that credit card and go. Why? Was her abductor planning to drag her to the nearest ATM and clean out her bank account? Had he promised to let her go the minute he had her money? What if he had no intention of letting her go? She could identify him. And now, so could I. As the questions pushed their way into my brain, I pushed back, trying to concentrate on what was right in front of me

  “Well then, how about a drink?” I suggested as I walked down the hall. “Come on into the living room. Mr. Talbot is in there. Bernie, it looks like we’ve got guests for cocktails!”

  Behind me, I heard Larry gasp. A quick glance over my shoulder told me that her companion wasn’t happy there was someone else, especially a man, in the house, and he was keeping an even tighter grip on his captive. That would soon be remedied.

  We stepped into the room and found ourselves face to face with a somewhat disheveled handicapped man slumped in a wheelchair, a lap blanket covering his legs and his right hand. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought Max suffered a stroke. His head was tipped to one side as he looked up at us.

  “Bernie, this is Ms. Rivera and her friend. I’m sorry,” I turned to the stranger. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Del.” He was still cautious, on alert, listening for anything that might prove threatening to his plan. In the distance, I could hear some yapping.

  “Nice to meet you, Del.” I plastered a big smile on my face, hoping to convince him that I thought he was the most fascinating man I had ever met. Larry gave me the stink eye, aiming that burning rage of hers like a laser beam in my direction. I ignored it. “Please, call me Scarlet.”

  “Scarlet it is.”

  “Mr. Talbot is one of our very special guests. He doesn’t have the use of his hand any more because of his recent stroke. Poor dear. Now, what would you like to drink? Wine? Gin and tonic? Scotch and soda? I can make you just about anything you’d like.” I pointed to the small bar against the wall, with its miniscule wet sink and liquor bottles. “Or, if you’d prefer something like coffee....”

  A grunting sound suddenly emerged from Max’s mouth; we all turned to him at the same time. With his left hand extended, he wiggled his fingers at me.

  “I think he wants something,” Del remarked, studying the man in the wheelchair.

  “My heavens. You might be right.” Leaning forward, I bent down. “What’s that?”

  “Awgh!” Gibberish came out of Max’s mouth. I pretended to fill in the blanks.

  “Oh, did you want a vodka martini, Bernie?” I asked him sweetly. Another guttural groan emerged from between his lips. “Extra dry, right?”

  As I made myself busy at the bar, uncapping the bottle of Smirnoff, I happened to gaze up in the mirror. I could see Larry trying to disengage herself from her kidnapper, but it was no use. He shoved her down onto the sofa and sat next to her. Max pretended not to notice, but I could tell he was, like me, all too aware of what was happening. I popped a twist of lemon into the drink.

  “Here you go, Bernie.” I carried the martini over to where Max sat in the wheelchair and offered the glass to him. He took it, grasping the stem tightly, but even as he did, his hand seemed to tremble more. A moment later, the glass left his hand and cascaded onto the rug below, the liquid contents splattering everywhere.

  “Oh dear!” I cried, thinking that the Persian carpet had been in the Googins family for more than a hundred years. It was a family treasure. “I’ve got to clean that up!”

  Hustling back to the bar, I grabbed a bottle of club soda and a cotton towel, and ran back. Dropping to my knees, I doused the spot with a fair amount of bubbly water and dabbed madly at the blotchy mess. My panic was no act. Does vodka leave a stain? What about vermouth?

  Max groaned again, tapping on the arm of his wheelchair with his fist. I glanced up, surprised. That’s when I caught him mouthing one word. Stall.

  “Don’t worry,” I said in my best innkeeper voice. “This will come right out, Bernie. Let me just get more towels. I’ll be right back.”

  “Mind if we help ourselves in the meantime?” Larry’s companion inquired. He was on his feet.

  “Oh,” I stopped at the doorway. “If you can wait just a minute, Del, I’ll be happy to fix your drinks. I won’t be a moment.”

  I treated him to a dazzling smile, pouring on the charm, and even twirled a lock of my hair around my finger in a twisted display of sexual interest. He gave me a nod and started to unzip his jacket. As he removed the hood, he revealed a shaved head. It somehow made him seem even more menacing. I forced myself to feign attraction as I allowed my gaze to linger on him. Noticing my interest, he wriggled out of the sleeves and displayed a set of muscles that seemed to ripple under the turtleneck shirt he wore. Larry’s thug friend did some serious workouts.

  “Let’s make this a party. What about some cheese and crackers to go with those drinks?” I flashed another smile in his direction and received a toothy grin and a wink from him in return. He was definitely on the prowl now. Good Lord, I hope Max and Kenny have a handle on this, because if things go wrong, I’m in deep trouble. “Do you prefer brie or cheddar? I have both.”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Larry was watching me carefully. She seemed concerned about my unexpectedly seductive behavior, but when her eyes went to Max a moment later, he managed to give her a thumbs-up. She suddenly straightened up, on alert.

  “Surprise me,” the creep grinned. Not a problem, pal. You’re about to get your socks knocked off.

  “I won’t be long.”

  “Hurry back, sexy lady.”

  I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, willing myself not to panic. That hallway never seemed longer. The kitchen door was shut. Had Kenny done that? As I put my hand up to push it open, I felt momentary resistance on the other side. Carefully, cautiously, I pressed it again, and this time it yielded. Stepping into the room, I came face to face with a contingent of helmeted SWAT officers, all dressed in battle camouflage, and a few state troopers in uniform. Kenny must have let them into the inn through the sun porch. Was that why the dogs barked?

  “You’re doing great, Scarlet,” I was told in a hushed tone by a short, squat man with gray hair and gray eyes. “We just need you to do a couple more things for us. Are you okay with that?”

  “Sure,” I agreed. Now that the Four Acorns Inn was populated by Larry’s law enforcement colleagues, I was nearly sure I could do just about anything. Everything was going to work out after all. That nightmare of mine was just a bad dream.

  “Here’s the plan,” whispered the head of the team. “We need some cover noise, so he doesn’t hear my team moving into position. Do you have a sound system?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. He patted my shoulder.

  “Good, good. I want you to go in with the cheese platter. Put the music on. It doesn’t much matter what it is, as long as it’s loud enough. And do you think you can unlock the French doors? That way, I don’t have to have my guys bust any of your windows.”

  “I appreciate that,” I admitted sotto voce, thinking of the potential mess and the expensive renovation costs.

  “Whatever you do, don’t let him think you saw something moving outside, because he�
��ll probably draw his weapon.” That ripple of pure fear ran right up my neck like a chilly finger. “That would put this whole operation in jeopardy.”

  “I...I could shut all the drapes, like it’s my normal routine at night.”

  “Excellent. That way, there’s no chance he’ll see my people coming. Once you get that door unlocked, fix those drinks, and then get down on the floor to scrub that rug. When you get done, excuse yourself. Tell him you want to put the dirty towels in the laundry. Can you do that?”

  “Sure,” I whispered back.

  “Don’t rush. Take your time. My team will move into place. You want to keep the bad guy thinking that he’s got control of the situation and he’s not in any danger of losing it. You okay?”

  “Yes.” Was I? I wasn’t sure. What if something went wrong? What if I slipped up?

  “Okay. Tell me one more time what you’re going to do,” he instructed me. I could feel his hot breath on my ear as he leaned in to listen to me recite the list in a hushed voice. When I got done, he spoke into his Ear Bone microphone. “She’s good to go!”

  Hands turned me around by the shoulders and pointed me at the kitchen door. A platter of cheese and crackers suddenly appeared, courtesy of one of the uniformed troopers, and I was urged to take it.

  “I came in here for towels,” I reminded the SWAT team member with his hand on my back. Excusing myself as I snaked through the crowd, I grabbed a couple of towels from the drawer by the refrigerator and retraced my steps. I took a deep breath to calm myself, slowly let it out, and pushed open the door to the hallway. Hoisting the cheese platter in the air with far greater confidence than I felt, I headed back to the living room. Just outside the entrance, I forced the corners of my mouth into a smile and made my grand entrance.

  “Here I am at last! Sorry to keep you waiting,” I announced cheerfully. With a great flourish, I placed the ceramic tray onto the coffee table and faced my cocktail guests, encouraging them to dig in. Max was listing to one side in the wheelchair, occasionally gurgling. Larry was slumped on the sofa, glaring, first at her captor, and then at me. Del was lighting a cigarette as he lasciviously leered at me, displaying tongue. It took all my self-control not to grab that Marlboro out of his hand, stomp on it, and slap his sleazy mouth. Instead, I snagged a porcelain bowl as a makeshift ashtray and reminded myself it was time for a little noise. “Let’s have some party music, to get us in the mood!”

  “Let’s,” Del agreed. “I can go all night long.”

  “Oh, it’s a little chilly in here. Let me just draw the drapes.” I started at the front windows and made my way around the living room, going window by window. At last, standing at the French doors, with one hand grasping the velvet panel, I maneuvered the latch. Once I was certain the lock was undone, I grabbed the other panel and pulled it across the gap. Del is never going to see this coming. I hope they hit him so hard and so fast, he doesn’t have time to react before they take him down and cuff him.

  Crossing to the Bose Wave system on the shelf above the bar, I flipped the switch and the room suddenly came alive as the sultry voice of Tony Bennett rose up. “Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light....”

  “What would you like to drink?” I asked. I stood in front of Larry, who was avoiding eye contact. “Ms. Rivera?”

  “I’m not thirsty,” she replied sullenly, refusing to look at me.

  “Party pooper,” scoffed the man beside her. “I’ll have a screwdriver.”

  It was impossible to ignore the fact that he lingered over the word “screw”, giving it special meaning by his pronunciation. He sure was a cocky bastard, overly confident and driven by his hormones.

  “Oh, I’ll need orange juice for that, Del. Let me just mop this carpet and I’ll be right back.”

  I bent over the spill by Max’s feet, my hands blotting the rug. With my back to Del, I gave Max the okay gesture and got an almost imperceptible nod in return. Wet towels in hand, I got up off my knees and waved them in the air. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  “Hurry back,” grinned Larry’s companion, flicking his ashes on the carpet. Cretin.

  “I will,” I promised, hoping the SWAT team wouldn’t storm the room until the cigarette was safely extinguished. How silly of me to think of that at a time like this. I must be in denial.

  I rushed out, expecting to head back to the safety of the kitchen. The last thing I expected was to be yanked into the library by a pair of strong hands. The moment I was inside, the door shut again. I found myself pushed through a maze of wall-to-wall law enforcement. A team huddled around the computer desk, watching the live action in the living room, thanks to Kenny’s quick thinking. The tiny camera he placed on the mantle, tucked into the greenery, was giving the cops a bird’s eye view of Del, Larry, and Max. There were people checking maps and coordinating activities on their tablets and Smartphones. One of them perched his foot on an antique library stand, scrolling on his screen. I wanted to scream, “Get that boot off the furniture!”, but it seemed petty considering what was going on. For a moment, I felt like I was suffocating. How could I breathe with so many people in the same room with me? Was I having a panic attack? Or was the shock of all this danger and intrigue finally hitting me?

  “Let’s go,” whispered a man behind me. He looked like all the other khaki-clad team members, save for a fringe of blonde hair showing under his helmet.

  “Go?”

  “You can’t stay here. You’re a civilian.”

  The cold night air hit me like a slap in the face, shocking me back to reality. The SWAT team was about to storm the living room. Someone could get killed. Please don’t let it be Larry or Max...or the cops. This is Christmas, a time of joy. We buy toys for little tots and we give winter coats to people who are cold. We don’t go shooting up the Four Acorn Inn. God, I am so grateful that Jenny is with her grandparents in California.

  I was whisked away, to a dark truck that was parked down the street. Much to my relief, Laurel and Lacey were there, chatting with a female trooper who was manning a computer console.

  “Sit,” said the dark-haired woman to me, pointing to a bench seat. I slid into place. “The show’s about to start.”

  One minute, her computer screen showed the scene in the living room as Max, Larry, and Del awaited my return. The next, it went black.

  “What the hell?” I heard Del utter. “Why did the lights go out?”

  “I think we lost power. It must be the storm,” Larry replied calmly, just before chaos erupted and the living room became an unexpected war zone.

  Pop! Pop-pop! Pop-pop-pop! Pop! Like fireworks on the Fourth of July, the stun grenades went off, one right after the other, in a deafening cacophony. When the lights came on, there was a camouflage-clad scrum on top of Del, who was now hog-tied and screaming like a stuck pig in plastic cable cuffs. It was over in less than thirty seconds, a stunning display of law enforcement finesse.

  “We’re done,” announced the woman into her microphone. “Suspect is in custody.”

  “That’s it?” Lacey wanted to know. “It’s all over?”

  “Is everyone okay?” Laurel leaned forward, craning her neck to see the screen.

  “No casualties.”

  We all crowded around the screen, clamoring for a peek at the aftermath.

  “Look at Max,” I said, pointing to the man in the wheelchair. “He knew they were coming, so he dropped onto the floor. And there’s Larry in the corner. She made sure to get away from Del.”

  “Who do you think the guy is?” my mother asked. “And why did he go after Larry?”

  “That’s the question of the night, ladies. Hopefully, we’ll have an answer before too long,” the trooper announced.