Finally, I stood by the staircase. I was careful when I looked down the stairs, alert for shadows or noises or the unknown. At first I didn’t see anything other than a pile of laundry at the bottom of the steps. It was when the pile of laundry moved and moaned that I almost forgot my police training and rushed down. Almost. Instead I moved as quietly as I could, walking down the stairs on tiptoe, tearing my eyes away from the pile at the bottom of the stairs and forcing them to survey the area as soon as my head cleared the stage. I didn’t see anything, but I couldn’t. What little light there was, was focused on the staircase. The rest of the room was in a blue light. I knew my eyes would adjust, but I didn’t want to wait.
As I got closer to the pile of laundry and recognized Stewart, I was shocked I could have thought of him as a heap of clothes. I reached for his neck, ignoring the blood while I searched for a pulse. I said a silent prayer when I found one. I’d found more than one corpse in my career, but never one that I cared about.
My phone wouldn’t get a signal, so I whispered to Stewart to hold on and made my way up the stairs, cell phone in front of me waiting for a sign my phone service was active. I only made it up three steps before I heard him.
“Put the cell phone down, Sully. Please.”
“Frank? Is that you? I can’t see you.”
“Please, Sully. I have a gun.”
I hit redial and mute, putting the phone on the highest step before I turned around. Damn. I hated it when I liked the suspect.
“Walk toward me,” he said.
“Can I check on Stewart first, Frank? That gash is pretty rough … did he fall down the stairs? He was always a little clumsy after a couple of drinks.”
“He didn’t fall.”
“Really? What happened?”
“Don’t play dumb, Sully.” Frank stepped out into a pool of light so I could finally see him. He did, indeed, have a gun. It was pointed right at me.
“Frank, let me go over and help him. I don’t know what happened here but I know you, Frank, and I know you wouldn’t hurt Stewart on purpose. It must have been some sort of mistake. So let me go and help him.”
Gaining his trust was critical if I was going to get Stewart and myself out of this. After what seemed like an eternity, Frank nodded.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said.
“Just checking on my friend is all.” I put my arms out from my side in a good faith gesture and moved toward Stewart, keeping my eyes on Frank. He and I did a dance, keeping an equidistant arc.
I reached Stewart, my friend. Had Frank shot him? I took off my scarf, giving Frank a running commentary as I was using it to stem the flow of blood from Stewart’s brow. From what I could tell it was a surface wound, but head wounds bleed like a bastard. And he’d already lost a lot of blood.
“Stewart, please don’t die,” I whispered.
I almost screamed when his eyes fluttered slightly and he whispered, “If you insist, love.” He tried to smile, but a look of pain stopped the effort.
“What’s happening over there?” Frank asked.
“I’m trying to stop the bleeding.”
“I didn’t mean to shoot him,” Frank said. “The gun just went off.”
“That can happen.”
“I don’t like you there, Sully. Move him over here.”
“That may not be a good idea, Frank.” I really wanted to keep Stewart visible at the bottom of the stairs.
“Move him.” I looked over at Frank, and realized that he and I weren’t dealing with the same reality anymore.
I dragged Stewart over to the mattress under the center trap in the stage. Frank gestured for me to get down, so I sat on my knees beside my prostrate friend. I rewrapped the scarf around his head, using my hat as an extra bandage. I hoped the bleeding would let up soon. Stewart had either passed out again or was pretending. I took his hand in mine. Nurse ministrations over, I turned back to Frank. “What happened? Let me see if I can help you figure this out.”
“Stop it. You can’t help. It’s all so bad,” he said. He didn’t bother to stop the tears as they streamed down his face. “How could I really believe she loved me? She used me. But she didn’t deserve to die.” Frank started to gesture with his gun, which should have made him vulnerable and given me an opportunity. But his finger was on the trigger, and I doubted he’d put the safety back on after shooting Stewart.
“Okay, so you loved Brooke. And you thought she loved you. But now you don’t think so? What changed your mind?” I kept my voice reasonable, although louder than absolutely necessary. The only thing I could hope was that Regina had gotten my message and would hear my voice. Or maybe Gus … no, Regina was my best bet.
“We were from the same neighborhood in Chicopee. I didn’t know her growing up, she was a little older, but still, what were the chances? I think she liked talking about home. We got, um, close, you know? I lied before. You believed me then. Who would ever want to sleep with Frank, right? Brooke liked me. A lot. She said no one understood her like I did. I felt bad at first, because I liked Mr. Whitehall. But she was so pretty. And she needed me. She said she was in way over her head.”
Once he started, he barely took a breath, waxing on about his relationship with Brooke. It was tough to try and imagine what Brooke had been thinking. I hoped it had meant something to her, but given what I knew about her, I doubted it. It seemed to have meant the world to Frank.
“She wanted to leave Mr. Whitehall, and she was going to, but she needed money first. She told me she’d signed a pre-nup and wouldn’t get anything if she left. She told me she had a plan, but she needed to get into Mr. Whitehall’s study without anyone knowing. So she asked me how to trick the new security system. I told her and offered to help. But she said she’d take care of it, that she didn’t want me to get involved.
“I thought she was going to take some money or something. I never, ever thought she’d … I swear. She promised that Mr. Whitehall was the only thing between us. I wanted to be with her so badly. When Mr. Whitehall was killed. I freaked a little, I’ll admit it. Brooke sent me an email and asked me to give her time. And not to call. Or text.
“So I waited, but finally I decided I had to call. And so I did. A few times. And I emailed. Brooke came by the theater yesterday and asked me to stop calling. She was going to leave. And then she told me that Terry was going with her. She said she hadn’t been well and Terry promised to take care of her. She was going to go to Boston, and Terry was coming later. She said she had one last present for me, and then she gave me this package, saying it was from her and Terry. It had a gun in it. This gun,” he said, gesturing again.
Frank’s agitation was palpable and contagious. My legs were falling asleep from sitting on the floor. But jumping up seemed like a bad idea under the circumstances, so I rolled my legs from side to side to keep them awake. I needed to be able to move if I got the opportunity. But until then, I needed to keep Frank talking.
“Do you think they were trying to set you up?” I asked.
“I think Terry gave it to Brooke for her to get rid of,” Frank said. “Such a coward—why did she like him better than me?”
“So what did you do?” I asked. I thought I heard a sound coming from upstairs.
“I drove to the Anchorage this afternoon. Mr. Whitehall hadn’t changed the passwords. I know where all the cameras are. I got past the gates. No one stopped me. So I kept going and let myself into the house. I found Terry in his office. I asked what the hell he was doing. And he laughed at me. Laughed at me. And then he thanked me for my fingerprints, and for my help.”
“What help?” I asked.
“Terry told me he’d been pretty pissed when he found out about Brooke and me. Said she was his and he didn’t like to share. But he said Brooke would come back to him. He must have thought that with enough money he could woo Brooke away from Mr. Wh
itehall and the Anchorage. I guess he was right.”
“What a bastard,” I said, partly to continue to build rapport with Frank, but mostly because it was true. Terry and Brooke? That explained why Jack Megan hadn’t been able to track anything about Terry’s affair for Emma. Terry was having an affair with his father-in-law’s wife. And they all lived in the same house. Jeez. I wondered if Peter had known. This would definitely have bothered him. For a whole lot of reasons.
“Then he laughed again,” Frank said. “He told me to get out. Didn’t even wait to see if I would. He sat down at his desk and turned toward his computer. He wasn’t scared, even though I had the gun. So I walked up behind him and shot him. I tried to do it so it would look like he’d shot himself, but I must have missed something. I missed something, didn’t I, Sully? Tell me what I did wrong.”
“The angle was off,” I said quietly.
“Damn, I really thought. I went up behind him and put the gun here.” To my horror, Frank knelt on the other side of Stewart, rolled him over slightly, and put the gun right next to his ear. Frank had gone around a bend, and I wasn’t sure if I could keep him on the road. Or from shooting Stewart.
“Frank, Terry poisoned Brooke. Did you know that? I think the poisoning was what caused her to crash. You actually did the world a favor. If anyone deserved killing, it was Terry Holmes. Honestly. Frank, you know I was a cop back in the day. I can’t see how they could get enough evidence to convict you.”
Suddenly I heard something stumble down the staircase. My cell phone was now at the bottom in a half-dozen pieces. Damn, I still had a year to go on my contract.
“Who is that?” Frank said.
“She’s right, son. There isn’t nearly enough evidence to convict you.” Gus walked down the stairs, hands outstretched in front of him.
“Who the hell—”
“Gus Knight. A friend of Sully’s.”
“How did you find us?” Frank asked. The hand holding the gun was still against Stewart’s ear. I moved my legs a little to wake them up and tried to figure out how to get into a squat without Frank noticing. My New Year’s resolution included finally signing up for that yoga class. And applying for a license to carry a concealed weapon. Of course, who would have figured at the beginning of the day that I’d need a gun? Certainly not me.
“Sully was going to give me a ride back to Boston. When she didn’t come back, I decided to come and get her.”
“How much did you hear?”
“Nothing really. Just Sully toward the end. But I know her well enough to know that if she says that there isn’t evidence, there isn’t evidence. So, let’s fix this.”
“You can’t. No one can.”
I hoped Gus wasn’t alone. But if he was, it was up to the two of us to end this. Now. Before Frank decided he had no way out but to hurt Stewart. Or himself.
“Gus is a fixer.” I slowly moved my weight back on my heels, making an awkward squat. My legs still had pins and needles, and it took every ounce of my self-control not to stand up and stretch them. Resisting the temptation, I shuffled closer to Frank and Stewart. “A real fixer. He’s a defense lawyer, and he’s gotten some real slime off. He’d really enjoy getting someone like you off, someone with a good excuse for what he did. Wouldn’t you, Gus?”
“Well, I’d need to know what he did first. Frank, do you want to tell me about it?” Gus moved around so that Frank turned a bit toward him. In doing so, the gun shifted away from Stewart’s temple. Sensing this, Frank pointed it toward me. He was too close to miss.
“Move over here,” he told Gus, who complied. Frank looked at both of us, and then at Stewart, still sprawled on the ground. Either he’d passed out again or he was an even better actor than I thought.
“Get over here, lawyer. Lean up against this column and put your hands behind you.” Gus did what he was told, and Frank took some gaff tape out of the front pocket of his hoodie, using it in a one-handed tie-up technique to lash Gus to the column. It also tore easily, particularly with the tooth-tearing method Frank now employed. Years of taping down electric cables made him deft with the tape; Gus wasn’t going anywhere. After he was finished, he turned around and looked at me. “I don’t know what to do … I didn’t think … I didn’t want … ”
“Of course you didn’t, Frank,” I said, straightening my legs out slowly until I was vertical. Well, not completely vertical. Still a little bent in the legs. Definitely yoga class this winter. “You got in the middle of something bigger than you. It sucked you in. Could have happened to anyone. Let us help you, Frank. Hurting more people isn’t the answer.”
“It’s too late. I probably killed him already,” Frank said, motioning with the gun toward Stewart. As if on cue, Stewart moaned slowly. I stepped in between them. In front of Gus too, sort of.
“Frank, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to give me the gun. And I’m going to go with you—”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good plan. I’m sorry, Sully.” He trained the gun on me again.
“Okay, here’s another plan Frank.”
I had never been so glad to hear Regina’s voice, or any voice for that matter. Frank and I turned toward the staircase, where Regina was slowly creeping down, her gun aimed at Frank. “You hand the gun to Sully, take a step toward me, and lie down on the ground, hands outstretched.”
Frank stood there, turned slightly toward Regina with the gun still focused on me. In three steps I could reach him, but those three steps would put me in point blank range.
“Or, I could shoot you right here.” Still no reaction from Frank. Except, I noticed, to grip the gun a little more tightly and focus all of his attention back on me.
“Sully, I’m so sorry,” Frank whispered. “I never meant for any of this to happen. It’s just that I loved her, you know? It was crazy, but I did.” Frank slowly raised the gun to his own temple.
“Not on my watch, Frank.” I leapt across the short space between us. Frank hesitated, as surprised by my action as I was. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gus straining against his tape restraints and Regina running down the steep staircase, both hands on her gun, leaning against the banister to keep her bulky frame in balance. Stewart rolled over, toward us. I pushed the gun upward with one hand while elbowing Frank as hard as I could with the other. The gun fired upward, but Frank didn’t let go. He tripped backward over Stewart’s prone body and I fell on top of him, still holding onto the hand with the gun. The full impact of my not-inconsiderable frame knocked the wind out of him, and I kept slamming his hand against the ground until he lost control of the gun. It skidded away toward Gus. I put one hand on each of Frank’s wrists, sitting on his chest and trying to calm him. Stewart threw his legs over Frank’s, but still he struggled. Regina had been yelling in the background, but it wasn’t until I felt someone’s hands around my waist, pulling me off of Frank, that I realized she’d been calling in the troops.
Someone had cut Gus loose during the melee, and he took over the job of subduing me. He was a little bit effective, pulling me toward him and whispering that I was okay, it was all okay. For a second, I believed him. But then I saw Stewart, bleeding and barely conscious, and I knew it was a lie. I pulled out of Gus’s arms and knelt by my friend. And started my own string of lies, telling Stewart that it was okay, everything was okay.
• Twenty-Seven •
I rode with Stewart to the hospital. Gus met us there. Stewart got a few stitches and was admitted for observation. Gus and I were in the waiting area, about to go to his room, when Regina arrived.
“Staties took over,” she said.
“Are you freaking kidding me? And they didn’t even let you sit in?”
Regina seemed pleased that I was so pissed on her behalf. I’d been there too many times, of course, doing the work and losing the credit.
“No, they sent me down here to get stateme
nts. From all three of you.”
“Can you talk to all of us at the same time? We were going down to talk to Stewart.”
“He’s awake?”
“Yes, he is now. They want to keep him up for a while to check for a possible concussion.”
“Talking about what happened is probably a good way to do that. Let’s go.”
Stewart looked as pale as the hospital sheets, but he was flirting shamelessly with the nurse. Then again, he’d likely be flirting shamelessly with someone five minutes before he died, so that was hardly proof positive that he was okay. So I asked.
“Stewart, you okay?” I rested my hand against his cheek, which felt warm to my touch.
He turned his face and kissed my palm. “I’m told by this lovely woman that I’m going to be fine.”
The nurse blushed. “He needs some rest,” she admonished the three of us.
Regina flashed her badge and identified herself. “We won’t keep him long, only need to confirm a few details.”
The nurse nodded and left, glaring at Gus and me.
“Well?” Regina asked Stewart.
“Well? Is that how you say hello, you sexy thing you?” Stewart teased. Regina smiled and Gus rolled his eyes.
“He’s very charming,” I said in a stage whisper.
“Obviously,” Gus said.
Regina said, “I’m on duty, sweetie. As soon as we’re done, I’ll say hello properly.” She raised her eyebrows a few times and took out a small digital recorder. “I’m going to record this, if it’s okay with all of you.” Each of us nodded, so she turned on the recorder and identified herself, Gus, Stewart, and me. Then she asked Stewart to explain the events of the evening.
A Christmas Peril Page 24
