“That’s not being helpful,” Lindsey snapped. “That’s nagging. That’s belittling. As always. Besides, you’re wrong. I’m at the perfect weight for my height. For some reason, you can’t see that, but ask any doctor.”
“I’m sure you can find any number of doctors in San Francisco who will tell you what you want to hear.”
“I could lose a hundred pounds and you’d still give me grief, so just stop talking.”
I tiptoed closer to the door but Amanda held back. I couldn’t blame her. This was getting nastier by the second and I imagined it might get worse. I hoped they wouldn’t catch me watching but I felt I had to see and hear what was going on. It seemed like they were finally showing us the real dynamic of their relationship and I hoped that would give me a clue as to what else had happened here in the past. Peering around the edge of the doorframe, I saw the two women still on the staircase. They were too involved in their argument to notice me.
Lindsey’s mother looked her up and down. “Well, if it’s not your weight, then maybe it’s your choice of clothing. It doesn’t flatter your shape. You always look a little . . . dowdy.”
Lindsey sniffed at the insult. “At least I have curves. I’m not a stick figure like you are.”
My eyes widened at the verbal slap. Not that I could blame her any.
“How dare you!” Petsy’s eyes flashed and her shocked tone changed to pure sarcasm an instant later. “Haven’t you heard? You can’t be too thin or too rich. Sadly you’re neither.”
I saw Lindsey’s face turning red. Her eyes looked both hurt and furious.
“What did you ever do to deserve being rich?” Lindsey wondered bitterly. “Besides marry my father, I mean. Was his money the only reason you married him? It couldn’t have been for love.”
“Shut up!” Petsy shouted, and in her fury, she looked more dangerous than ever. “Your father—”
“Don’t you say a word about my father,” Lindsey said through clenched teeth.
Petsy slapped Lindsey hard enough to make my cheek hurt. I glanced at Amanda and saw her wince in sympathy.
Lindsey screamed, “I hate you!”
“Well,” Petsy said imperiously. She was flexing her fingers behind her back after slapping her daughter so hard. “That’s convenient, because I hate you, too. When are you going back to San Francisco?”
“Not soon enough.”
“At last we agree on something,” Petsy sneered.
Amanda let out a little gasp of despair. I knew it was for Lindsey. She had been holding out hope that the woman would stay in town, but Lindsey obviously had a very good reason to leave.
Both women turned at the sound of Amanda’s gasp.
The jig was up, so with all innocence, I stepped out into the archway. “Is everything okay out here?”
Lindsey’s shoulders sagged slightly, but Petsy immediately stood straighter. She walked the rest of the way down the stairs, stepped onto the polished marble floor of the foyer, and set her purse on the credenza. “Why am I not surprised it’s you sticking your nose in our business? I’m so sick of you skulking around here, interfering in our lives.”
I blinked. “You hired me to work here. I didn’t realize I was skulking. As for interfering, we were simply doing our job before you ladies came downstairs.”
“Then get to work and mind your own business,” Petsy shot back. “I’ve never seen so much lollygagging.”
“If you’re not happy, I’ll be glad to take my crew and leave. You can find someone else to finish the job.”
“Fine. You can go. I’m hiring Amanda,” Petsy said haughtily. “And you can drop dead.”
I glared at her. “Amanda works for me.”
Lindsey smiled as if she was really enjoying seeing her mother on the defensive.
“Oh, really? With one word I could hire her away from you like that.” Petsy snapped her fingers.
“I’d like to see you try,” I said, feeling like a ten-year-old on the playground, fighting over a dodgeball game. But what else could I do?
“Amanda, dear.” Petsy’s voice was gentle and calm now. “Come here.”
“I think I’ll stay right here,” she said, but she did inch closer to the archway.
“I have something important to tell you,” Petsy said, flashing a truly nasty grin my way.
My spine was tingling with nervous anticipation. Was she really going to say what I thought she might say?
“It might come as a shock,” Petsy continued, “but I’m sure my news will make you very happy. I’m your—”
“No!” Amanda cried, backing away as if she couldn’t bear to hear whatever it was Petsy was about to reveal. “Don’t say it.”
Lindsey glanced from her mother to Amanda and back. Walking the rest of the way down the stairs, she approached Petsy and said quietly, “Mother, leave Amanda alone. Let the girls go back to work.”
“Stay out of this.” Petsy physically pushed Lindsey away. “And I want you to stop calling me that.”
Lindsey took a step back. “Stop calling you what?”
“Stop calling me Mother!” Petsy shouted, furious again.
Lindsey looked both puzzled and fed up. “If only I could,” she muttered.
I almost grinned. Lindsey was getting in some good punches, whether she knew it or not. And she needed to know now.
“Why don’t you just tell everyone the truth, Petsy?” I said. I didn’t want to hurt Amanda, but things were about to come out now anyway and my friend couldn’t hide forever. Better if I was with her when Petsy dropped her bomb. As for Lindsey, I had a feeling she was strong enough to take whatever Petsy handed out.
Petsy whirled around, checking each of our expressions. Did she realize she was trapped? Surrounded by at least two women—possibly three, if Amanda was finally coming to her senses—who neither liked her nor trusted her?
Petsy’s gaze narrowed in on me. “What are you talking about?”
Enough games, I told myself. I was tired of tiptoeing around this woman. Heck, I was just plain tired of this woman. “I know what you were about to tell Amanda, and I know you’re living a lie. You’ve been deceiving Lindsey her entire life.” I took a step closer. “I know who you are.”
Petsy stared at me, taking deep breaths in and out. I stared back, and as I watched, something seemed to click within her and her eyes grew even colder. She tossed her hair back and walked over to the purse she’d left on the sideboard. She opened it, pulled out a gun, and turned to point it at me.
“I thought I could avoid violence, but you’ve driven me to it.” She sounded unusually calm and a bit weary, as though the burden of being rational had been a heavy one. “Honestly, you are terribly annoying. Has anyone besides me ever told you that?”
“No,” I muttered, staring at the gun, sincerely rethinking my whole get everything into the open strategy.
“Mother,” Lindsey said with a hiss, her face contorted in fear, “put that away.”
“I told you to stay out of it, Lindsey. Now it’s too late.” Petsy pushed her hair back, then primly smoothed the front of her blouse as though she were about to pose for a photograph.
We were witnessing a woman diving off the deep end—and there was no water in that crazy pool.
I took a tiny step backward and gauged my chances. If Lindsey distracted her long enough, would I be able to dash to the front door before she got a shot off?
Clearly I wouldn’t make it. My only option was to try to talk her down. But she had evidently reached her boiling point. Would she listen to reason?
“I hadn’t planned on having to deal with all three of you,” Petsy said, then added in a blasé tone, “But, you know, desperate times . . .”
Call for desperate measures, I thought, finishing the line. Did that mean she planned to kill all three of us? Would she spare A
manda, whom she actually seemed to like? Or had that been a lie, too? Perhaps she would simply use us as a shield to get to the nearest airport—or wherever psychotic killers went when they’d reached their limit.
“Mother, please,” Lindsey said, trying to speak calmly although her faltering words betrayed her. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Let’s talk about this. I’m sorry I upset you.”
But Petsy didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, she appeared to be calculating her next move.
I was almost afraid to say anything, because I clearly annoyed her, but since the feeling was mutual I felt I had nothing to lose by trying. “You really don’t want to do this, Petsy. Think of the Home and Garden Tour. I know your house is going to win this year, but if you hurt us, it’ll ruin your chances.”
She smiled, apparently amused by my ploy. “I can still win.”
“Oh yeah? Good luck with that.”
“Stop arguing with me!” Petsy grabbed from the credenza an expensive vase filled with beautiful spring flowers and smashed it on the marble floor.
Lindsey screamed. “What are you doing? What’s wrong with you?”
“It was so sad,” Petsy said, her tone vague as she glanced around. “I came home only to find that burglars had broken in. It was a home invasion in progress. My lovely daughter and two others lying dead on the floor.” She moved over to the wall, never turning her back to us. Reaching up, she maneuvered an original seascape off the wall and tossed it onto the floor, breaking the glass.
“Don’t do that, Mother.” Lindsey sounded a little panicked. I couldn’t blame her. “You’re scaring me.”
Petsy sighed dramatically. “Lindsey, stop being such a baby.”
“I’m sorry, Mother, but—”
“And I’ve told you not to call me that,” she said through clenched teeth.
“All right. Um, Petsy.” Lindsey tried again to keep her voice cool and composed. “You need to put the gun away.”
Petsy ignored Lindsey, instead turning to look at me. “I think I’ll shoot you first.” Switching back to Lindsey, she added, “And you’ll be next.”
I glanced at Amanda, who looked absolutely petrified, but I knew she was stronger than that. Meeting my gaze, Amanda gulped. When I nodded slowly, she returned a slight nod, and I knew she would be ready to fight this woman when the time came.
“So you’re going to kill all three of us,” I said. “You’re going to leave our dead bodies in the foyer. And then what?”
Petsy blinked. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in and out rapidly. It was clear she had no idea what to do next.
“We’re going upstairs,” Petsy said all of a sudden.
“Why?” Lindsey said.
“You really need to stop questioning me.” She jerked her gun toward the stairway. “Now move it.”
“What happened to you?” Lindsey asked as she led the way up the stairs. “You were always harsh and unreasonable, but I never thought you were insane.”
Petsy shook her head in frustration, her gun hand falling to her side. “And you used to be more compliant. Your moving away was wonderful for me, but it’s ruined you. With all your opinions and ideas that no one asks you for. You need to be more like Amanda and keep your sarcastic mouth shut.”
Lindsey glanced over her shoulder at Petsy. “How do you suggest I be more like Amanda? We barely even know Amanda.”
“Of course we know her, you dolt,” she said. “She’s my daughter.”
Lindsey stopped abruptly. “What did you say?”
Petsy jerked the gun back up. “Keep moving. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m in no mood to be defied.”
Amanda looked completely dumbfounded, so I grabbed her arm, and the three of us jogged up the steps ahead of Petsy. We stopped when we reached the second floor.
“Keep going,” Petsy said. “Third floor.”
She wanted us to go to Matthew’s studio? I almost smiled. In that room, there were a million items that I could snatch and use as a weapon. If only I could get the chance before she shot us all.
“Amanda, do you work out?” Petsy asked.
“Yes.”
“You see, Lindsey? That’s how you get a perfect figure. Amanda is in great shape and she’s smart and beautiful, and she’s very artistic, too. Unlike you, who couldn’t paint your way out of a paper bag.”
“Lindsey is beautiful and talented, too,” Amanda insisted.
Lindsey smiled at Amanda and scowled at Petsy. “Thank you, Amanda, but my mother—I mean, Petsy—thinks I’m insipid and frumpy.”
“You’re not,” Amanda murmured.
I felt like I was in a three-sided Ping-Pong game and the referee held a gun.
“Petsy,” Lindsey said, apparently no longer fearful of facing her mother’s wrath, “do you know why Amanda is all those things you admire? Because she wasn’t raised by you. If she’d been living in this house, you would’ve picked her apart, just like you’ve done to me my entire life.”
“Shut up, Lindsey,” Petsy muttered, and added under her breath, “Sharper than a serpent’s tooth . . .”
Apparently the Jorgensen house was the place where irony had gone to die. But at least Petsy knew her Shakespeare.
We reached Matthew’s studio and stopped. Petsy lifted her gun to point at us again. “Keep moving.”
“Where?” I said, although I had a suspicion.
She pointed the gun toward the tower room. “Out there.”
So, she wanted to end this out on the widow’s walk. I thought of Ernie, Loretta’s poor husband. Had Petsy forced him to walk out onto the roof? More irony? I wondered.
As I made my way through the studio, I bumped against one of the tables hard enough to cause a few of the jars and cans to topple.
“Be careful, you oaf,” Petsy snapped. “I don’t need Matthew whining about his precious paintbrushes on the floor.”
It was enough of a distraction that I was able to sneak a razor-sharp, curved gouge off the table. The tool was about eight inches long and I figured Matthew used it to cut through clay. It would draw blood if I had the chance to get close enough to Petsy. I slipped it up inside the cuff of my shirt and kept walking.
I just hoped I would get the opportunity to use it.
“Amanda, dear,” Petsy said, “open the French doors, would you? We’re going out on the roof.”
Reluctantly she did as instructed and walked out first. I followed her and whispered, “Once she steps out here, I’m going to try and grab her.”
“I’ll be ready,” she murmured.
“This is hardly going to look like a home invasion,” I said out loud.
“True.” Petsy shrugged. “That would’ve been nice, but this shows more dramatic flair.”
“I see,” I said. “Since they’re going to arrest you for murder anyway, you might as well make a show of it?”
Her smile was smug. “That’s right.”
“That’s sick,” Lindsey said.
“Shut up and get out there,” Petsy ordered.
We walked outside and waited for Petsy’s next move. I suddenly remembered Matthew’s words the other day when he tried to explain Petsy’s sour attitude. Appearances were everything, he’d said.
I took a deep breath and said, “This is going to look really bad to the people on the tour. Nobody’s going to vote for this house.”
“On the contrary,” Petsy snarled, “everyone loves a sensational murder story. We’re sure to win.”
“No, the police will close off the house while they do their investigation,” I insisted. “It’ll be disqualified.”
“You’re wrong,” she shouted. “I’m going to win.”
She was so close to pulling that trigger. I had to disengage or I would be shot. I forced myself to look around. The air was cooler than usual up here,
but the sky was clear and blue. I could smell the briny ocean and taste a hint of salt in the crisp breeze coming off the water. It was a perfect April morning on the Northern California coast. An ideal day for dealing with a murderous psychopath, I supposed.
Petsy pointed the gun at me and then jerked it to the right. “Get over there.”
I had been standing as close to the door as I could get, hoping for a chance to use the gouge I had hidden in my sleeve. Cursing inwardly, I moved to the opposite side of the widow’s walk.
Before she could say anything more, I demanded, “Why did you kill Loretta?”
“Don’t be silly. She committed suicide.”
“Naked? In a bathtub? With the cord of a hair dryer wrapped around her neck?”
Petsy smiled.
“No,” I retorted. “You killed her. You tossed a television set and a hair dryer into her bathtub and nothing happened, so you strangled her. I know it was you. You’re trying to get rid of all the loose ends.”
“It was her own fault,” Petsy insisted with disgust. “She pushed me to it. She’s been showing up here every year, demanding more and more money. She’s the problem, not me.”
“Why did she demand money?” Amanda asked. “What did you do?”
“She sold you,” I said matter-of-factly. That was a guess, but it was a good one, given Petsy’s reaction.
Petsy’s face was red with fury. “You don’t know what it was like.”
“Then please tell us, Mother.” Amanda said the word derisively, and I couldn’t have been prouder to see her strike back. “What was it like to sell your own daughter?”
“You don’t understand! I wanted a baby more than anything. Loretta didn’t. She was horrified when she found out she was pregnant.”
Lindsey looked completely mystified. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It wasn’t fair! Loretta ended up with a perfect angel, and I ended up with . . .”
“Me,” Amanda said flatly. “You ended up with me.”
“You were a horrible baby,” Petsy shouted. “You wouldn’t stop crying. You were colicky and noisy, and your skin was washed-out.”
Eaves of Destruction Page 22
