That was until he heard the creak of a floor board on the landing, just beyond the bedroom door. Andrew reached for the grip of his gun, slowly, so he didn't disturb Beth. Then he waited -- motionless. It could just be the settling of a four hundred year building. It might be nothing.
But it wasn't. After a few moments, a pencil-thin rim of light framed the doorway, as it opened a crack. The shaft of light grew as the door slowly opened further, until Drew saw the silhouette of a silencer attached to the barrel of a gun -- and then connected to an arm.
Noiselessly, the door continued to open, until a complete figure stood, backlit in the darkness. The bedroom was pitch dark, so Drew was sure that unless this intruder was wearing night vision goggles, they remained hidden.
Then, to his horror, the figured turned, faced the bed, and pointed the gun -- not at him, but at Elizabeth. In one swift, fluid movement, he sat upright, pressed Beth's head into the bedding and held her down with his left hand, while he slid his gun from under her pillow with his right hand.
Several things happened at once. Two muzzle flashes lit the room, Beth struggled to sit up, and the silhouetted body hit the floor. Drew released his hold on Elizabeth and he handed her his gun, as she sat up and switched on the bedside lamp.
"What the hell!" she exclaimed.
"Beth, go make sure they're dead, but be careful."
She got a good grip on his weapon, and went over and kicked the body. When it failed to respond, she bent down and felt for a pulse. "I think they're dead. I can't find a pulse. And, there's no exit wound."
"Who is it? Do you recognize him?"
Beth rolled the body over, and gasped, as she told him, "It's a woman, Andrew."
"Do you know her?"
"No, I don't..."
"What?
"I have seen her. She was in the antique store this afternoon."
"Which store? Just one, or all of them?"
"I only noticed her in the last one. She was looking at some jewelry in a case near the counter while you were dealing with the paperwork."
"You're sure?"
"No, Drew. I'm not. The thing is I might have seen her before."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you've spent enough time being a tourist here. We've seen several people around -- at restaurants, even at one of the plantations."
"Go through her pockets, see if she has any ID -- anything."
Beth did as he'd asked, turning out any pockets she could find. Shaking her head, she told him, "No ID or keys. There's an extra loaded magazine, maybe fifty dollars in folding money, and a few dollars in change. That's it, Andrew."
*****
Beth stood up and turned to look at Drew. That's when she saw the blood on the bedding. He must have seen her face, because he said, "It's just my shoulder, Beth. The bullet didn't hit the bone. I can move my arm," he said, swinging it a little. "I'll be fine." The trouble was he was pale, and hadn't attempted to stand up.
Frowning, she headed into the bathroom. After a few minutes, she returned, carrying bottles of hydrogen peroxide and isopropyl alcohol, a wrung out wash cloth and several old-fashioned huck hand towels.
"Sit up, Sweetheart, and let me look at it." She'd expected it to be a front to back, through and through wound. What she discovered was a small hole on the outside of his upper arm.
He leaned over, so she could pour some peroxide on it. It bubbled and frothed, and then dribbled away. She repeated that, until she used up the peroxide. She dropped the empty bottle on the floor and opened the alcohol. Still, she hesitated for a minute, warning him, "This is going to hurt, Drew."
"I'll be all right," he insisted. But he flinched when she doused him. Then he asked, "Can you see the bullet, Beth? Any chance you could pull it out?"
"Andrew! It's stopped bleeding, it didn't break a bone, and you don't seem to have any nerve damage -- I'm not going to risk making things more serious by trying to dig it out. Now, do you know the name of Jack's doctor?"
"No."
"Well, Jack will tell me. Where's your phone?"
"No, you don't understand. We can't use it, Bethy. We're going to have to lose it. We need to lose whoever's following us -- watching us."
"I see." She wrapped a towel around his upper arm, and safety pinned it, and asked, "We're going to have to leave, aren't we?"
"I'm afraid so, Beth." He paused, and asked, "Do you know how to steal a car?"
"First of all, you know how I feel about non-work-related law-breaking. And, no, I don't have the faintest idea how to steal a car. I must have missed that day of school."
"But, you read -- you watch TV and movies. You must have some idea."
"Theoretically," she answered. "It has something to do with twisting wires together, doesn't it?"
"Well, that's old school. New cars are trickier, but there are screw drivers in the business bag. Maybe I can manage the actually starting."
"Just give me a few minutes to work something out. I'll take care of it."
"Beth..."
"Yes, Andrew." She went back to the bathroom. She returned in a minute, wearing one of Andrew's shirts, carrying the shower curtain liner. But she walked past him, and went straight over to the corpse, spread the liner out, and rolled the body onto it. Then she dragged it out through the French doors and onto the gallery.
When she came back inside and locked the French doors, he asked, "What are you doing?"
"Andrew, we were lucky and she didn't bleed on the Aubusson, but I am not leaving her on the floor -- or even inside."
"Why not?"
She stopped, stared at him, and said, "Andrew, I thought I'd finally gotten you to see how very special this place is. But, just in case I didn't -- I'm not letting Ms. Body puff up into a balloon in here." She pointed at the wide, well-worn floor boards, and added, "That's an antique Aubusson rug over four hundred year old cypress planks -- the entire place is a museum, and it's not going to be ruined by decomp."
"I see."
"With any luck no one will notice the smell for a day or two." She began spreading suitcases on the bed and gathering clothes.
"Let me do that, Sweetheart."
"Stay exactly where you are. I will tell you what you can do and when you can do it, understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Now, I know I don't pack as neatly as you do, but you're going to have to go along with it, this one time, okay?"
"Yes, Beth."
She was tossing things in various cases, when she looked up at him, and said, "I'm sorry. But, I really don't want you to move. Besides, I'm concerned about you. And I need to work out a plan."
"I know, Sweetheart," he grinned at her and when she looked over at him, asked, "Am I not being still enough?"
"All right," she conceded, "I might be over reacting, but--"
"It's fine, Beth. Just keep doing what you're doing. And let me know when I can help."
"Okay," she said, as she kept moving. She pulled out a tote bag and put a pair of slacks, socks, a tee-shirt, blouse, and the sweater jacket in it. Then, she topped it with the business bag and moved on.
She finished gathering the toiletries from the bathroom, and started picking through Drew's clothes. She placed shorts, slacks, socks, and a long sleeved shirt on the bed beside him; and then tossed the rest of his things into his suitcase. With Andrew watching her in silence, all the while.
"Thank goodness you shaved earlier," she told him, as she squatted in front of him. "Stick out a foot, Sweetheart."
"Why?"
"I need to get you dressed."
"Why?"
"Because," she explained, "even though I haven't formulated an actual plan yet, I'm pretty sure that when I do, you aren't going to be able to be naked."
"Well," he said, begrudgingly, as he held out a foot. "The least I can do is dress myself."
"No, you can't." she said, as she held out the other sock for him.
He seemed okay with the socks, but when she held out his sho
rts, he balked. "This is humiliating, Beth."
"No, it's not. I'm your wife." She pulled up his shorts, and held out his slacks, when she added, "I don't remember you finding me, but I do remember collapsing on the floor, and not being to get up. And, Jack and I figured out I must have been down there for at least four days. I can only imagine what condition I was in."
He stepped into his slacks and allowed her to fasten the waistband, however insisted, "I can zip myself."
"Slip your bad arm into the shirt first, Sweetheart," Beth said, "carefully. Now the other one." She quickly buttoned up his shirt, before heading back into the bathroom linen closet. This time she returned with a sheet that she'd already notched in several places, so she could rip it.
"What's that for?" he asked.
"I cleaned and bandaged the wound as best I could. But, I'm not happy about that bullet wiggling around. So, I'm going to keep it from moving."
She ripped off about a two foot wide strip the length of the sheet, folded both sides into the middle, folded it in half again, and patiently smoothed it out. Then she tucked one end under Drew's right arm, instructing, "You hold that down for me. Take a couple normal breaths -- I don't want to wrap this too tightly."
"But, Bethy--"
"No arguing, Drew, please. I want you to hold your left arm against your body -- firmly, but not uncomfortably." Then she wound the folded length of sheeting over his chest, around the outside of his bandaged left arm, and across his back and under his right arm again. She pinned it just as it came over his chest, and again just before his left armpit.
Once she was sure it was secure but not too tight, she slipped a sling over his neck, inserted his folded left arm, and adjusted it carefully.
Then she went into the walk-in closet again, and came out with a large, tweed sports jacket and asked, "Can you get into your shoes, Drew?"
"Yes. But, what's the jacket for?"
"You."
"Beth, whoever lives here must wear a size fifty two jacket. I know I've eaten a lot, but still..."
"Andrew, I know it's too big, but I'm pretty sure it will go around the sling, and still button."
She threw a purse on the bed and told him, "Okay, here's something you can do. Gather up your wallet, any money you have, plus what I took off the body, all the guns and ammunition, our passports and IDs, the rental car keys, and anything else I might want in the pocketbook. I have to find something to wear."
Beth returned from the walk-in closet carrying a strappy pair of very high heels, a camisole top, and a short skirt with a jacket. After she got stockings on, she pulled the camisole on. It had a low, scooped neck, and revealed a lot of cleavage.
She'd wriggled into the skirt, when Andrew asked, "What are you wearing?" He looked disappointed, and Beth realized her not wearing something he'd bought her was upsetting him. She started to chastise him, when she stopped. She checked the clock. He'd been shot about an hour ago. That meant the initial numbing shock was over, and the pain was beginning.
"You've heard of 'dressing for success'? Well, I'm 'dressing for distraction'."
But, when she stepped into the loafers and set the heels on the top of the tote bag, Andrew shook his head.
She smiled at him, and said, "Don't be a snob. Now, do you think you can take a bath towel and smudge all the surfaces we might have touched? We can't eliminate all our finger prints, but we can at least make it difficult for the police."
"I can do that," he told her.
But, when he jumped up, she fussed at him, "Take it easy, Andrew. Please. I'm taking the first suitcase downstairs. I'll be right back."
"All right, Beth."
She returned to find him rooting through the business bag. He looked up, smiled, and told her, "I just remembered I had a few antibiotics and painkillers in here."
"Well, add them to my purse. Just make sure the bag is back in the tote. I'm going to need it later." She looked around, sighed, and added, "You do know Jack is going to kill us. His friend will never let him borrow the apartment again. He probably won't even speak to him again. Not after this."
She picked up the purse, tote bag, and two jackets, and gestured for him to bring the second suitcase. Then she turned off the lights, and went down those curved stairs, one last time.
"Can you take that down and put both suitcases in the trunk, Drew? I'll be right down."
"Yes, but I can take the jackets as well."
"All right. I won't be a minute. I promise," she told him. Then she called out, "Wait! We aren't going to be able to use your phone, are we?"
"Well, no..."
"Hand it to me, please. I'll take care of it."
She joined him several minutes later, carrying a second tote bag full of bottled water, half a bottle of orange juice, and some tea towels.
"Andrew, we're going to have to leave the remote gate opener here. Do you think you'll be able to close the gates, once I've pulled the car out?"
"I'll manage, Beth."
She had put the tote with the shoes on the backseat of the car, and set the other tote on the front passenger floor, when she stopped, and told him, "I'll be right back." And scurried inside once more.
She returned a couple minutes later, carrying several throw pillows and a cotton afghan.
"What are they for?"
"You -- in case you get tired. Or cold." She climbed into the car, and asked, "Is it all right for me to pull out?"
"Yes, go ahead."
She pulled out and parked -- ignoring other cars and disgruntled drivers, who either wanted to drive around her or park in front of the gate. Andrew came out the little door, and started to get into the car, when she told him, "Put the jacket on first, Andrew."
"Elizabeth, it must be at least eighty-five degrees. I don't need the jacket on. Please." Then he slipped into the car.
"Well, I suppose you'll be all right without the jacket, for a while. Just where am I driving to, Sweetheart?"
"Long-term parking at the airport," he answered. After another moment, he asked, "What did you do with the phone?"
"I took the chip out and ground it in the disposal. I'll stop somewhere when we're going over a canal, and let you toss the phone itself into the water."
"Oh, very efficient, Sweetheart."
"Thank you." She pulled out, and headed for the interstate. Once she had merged into the traffic, she said, "Andrew, first I want to set out some ground rules. Then, I need you to tell me why someone tried to kill you."
"That's the problem, Bethy. She wasn't after me. She was after you."
"What? But, why?"
"That's what we need to figure out. Now, tell me your ground rules."
"I need you to stay hydrated. We don't have many antibiotics. I'm hoping that lots of fluids will help keep your temperature down. That's what the water and juice is for. If you're awake, I need you to be drinking." She suddenly grinned at him. "Hey, it's just like Monte Carlo. This really has turned out to be a second honeymoon, hasn't it?"
Drew smiled, but only nodded.
"Now, tell me, why someone is trying to kill me?"
"We don't know. But, someone followed you from London, and left a trail of dead women, and they all resembled you."
"I don't understand."
"Neither do we. But, I came here to identify a body. The woman who stole your purse -- she was killed and dumped in Lake Pontchartrain."
"But, why?"
"That's what we're going to have to try and figure out."
"Okay. Let's take one thing at a time. We're getting close to the airport." She changed lanes, before she looked over at him and added, "And, drink the orange juice first."
"You know I'm not a big fan of orange juice -- at least without champagne or vodka. I'll have a water. All right?"
"No. Drink the juice first."
"But why?"
"Because the opening is wider," she said, as she shot him a look.
"Oh...all right," he conceded, as understanding dawned on him
.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Beth handed Andrew the long-term parking ticket and cruised slowly around, first in one lot and then another. Finally, she chose one that seemed a bit darker and emptier than the others. She pulled into the parking space farthest away from where the shuttle bus would stop. It was also about the darkest spot in the lot.
"Drink your juice, Sweetheart," she said, as she popped out, and retrieved the strappy heels and the business bag from the back seat. Then she sat sideways in the driver's seat, so her feet were on the ground, selected a pair of pliers from the bag, and began viciously twisting on the heel of the left shoe.
"What are you doing?" Andrew asked, between gulps of juice.
"Acquiring a car."
"Okay..."
As she worked, she watched as the shuttle bus dropped off returning passengers -- that all trudged from the bus to their cars; and took on outgoing passengers -- whom appeared in a hurry and anxious to get on with their trips.
She made note of how long it was between shuttle buses, that it was a rotation of several buses, and she watched how people waited to board the shuttles. And, through it all, she continued twisting at the heel of the shoe.
Finally, the heel gave way and loosened. "Yes!" she said, triumphantly. But she continued fiddling until it was barely attached to the shoe. Then she put the pliers back in the business bag, took off her loafers, and struggled into the very high heels.
Then she just sat back, again waiting and watching.
A van pulled in and parked near where the shuttle bus would stop, and a family spilled out, the parents herding the kids, along with their bags to the shuttle stop, just as a bus pulled up. An older couple got off, and helped each other back to their car.
Will we be like that in our old age? she wondered.
A young man in a sports car roared up, jumped out, slamming the door and click it locked, as he ran to catch the shuttle. Several other cars came into the lot. But, Beth just waited and watched.
Andrew sat, patient and silent.
Finally, a Buick Le Sabre pulled into a space not far from their car. An older-middle-aged couple exited, looking harried and bickering loudly.
Duty With Honor Book Five: An Unexpected Pause Page 21
