“Do you have his keys?”
“No. He took them.”
So his keys were most likely in his pocket. That was a problem if he came to and got the upper hand. I didn’t want him to have keys to his getaway car, but I didn’t want to get close enough to fish for them, either.
“We don’t have a lot of time, Maybelline. Tell me what you know.”
She shot a wary glance in Mercer’s direction. “Vane Beardsley is my baby brother. The night Bonnie went missing, Vane called me to come over to his house because she was out so late. He knew she’d be high when she got home, and sometimes it takes two of us to settle her down.”
“Do you live near your brother?”
“Yes, he bought a nice little house for me just a few blocks from his home.” She sniffled. “Vane is my lifeline, you know. Without him, I’d probably die.”
I refused to think about that.
“Tell me what happened next.”
“He sent a taxi for me, and by the time I got there Bonnie was home. High on something, as usual. It was late, almost three in the morning. Vane asked where she’d been. She flew at him in a screaming rage. It wasn’t the first time, either. When he reached out to stop her, his hand closed around her neck. He pushed her away, but she threatened him. Said she was going to call the police and charge him with spousal abuse. She vowed to ruin him.”
That explained the bruise on her neck.
“Maybelline, isn’t Dr. Beardsley right-handed?”
“Yes, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
“Do you remember which hand he used when he grabbed her neck?”
“He grabbed her hands first, with his right, but she tried to butt him with her head and that’s when he pushed her away with his left. He didn’t mean to choke her. He was defending himself.”
“Of course,” I said. “Did she follow through with her threat to call the police?”
“She tried, but she was too high to dial the phone, so she swore at him and went to her bedroom.”
“They had separate bedrooms?”
“Oh, yes. Bonnie insisted.”
“What did Dr. Beardsley do?”
“He checked on her later, after she fell asleep. He said he was sure she’d be all right once she slept it off.”
“Was he worried about her calling the police? About the abuse charge?”
“Vane didn’t believe she’d do it when she sobered up. He never let himself believe the worst about her. He just went to bed, like every other time, and I went into the guest room. That’s when I called Orrie.”
“I understand your fear. If Bonnie ruined your brother, you’d lose your lifeline. But why would Orrie Mercer help you?”
At the mention of his name, Mercer stirred again and gave a little snort. We waited. He started snoring peacefully, and Maybelline went on.
“Orrie said he still wanted to marry me, but I know the truth now. Orrie didn’t really want me; he wanted a free ride on Vane’s money.”
“And the free ride would never happen if Vane’s reputation was ruined. If he lost his practice.”
“That’s right. Orrie said he could take care of Bonnie, scare her into leaving Vane, leaving town. He said he knew things about her. Things even Vane couldn’t ignore.”
“Did she die that night? In your brother’s house?”
Maybelline gasped. “Oh, heavens no. While Vane was asleep, Orrie came over and I helped him load Bonnie into his pickup. She was out cold on her bed—limp as a dead flounder—but still dressed, except for her shoes.” Hence Maybelline’s fingerprint on Bonnie’s toenail. She went on. “We had to roll her up in a blanket just to carry her outside. Orrie said he’d take her to his place and have a talk with her in the morning—when she sobered up.”
“So you don’t know what happened after Orrie took her away?”
“No. I never saw her again. I didn’t even know she had died until her body was found.”
“Are you saying Mercer didn’t tell you Bonnie was dead?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. He’s a dirty liar. He swore he’d run her off. That’s what I told you that first day we met at the hospital. I thought she’d hooked up with some man she knew and took off for good.”
“Do you think Mercer killed her?”
“I didn’t then. Now I don’t know what to think. Orrie says she just up and died during the night. He couldn’t bring her body back to Vane’s place. It was too late for that when he found her dead in the morning. He said Vane would be the prime suspect because they always suspect the husband. That we had to cover for him.”
“And you both told Dr. Beardsley you didn’t know how Bonnie had disappeared during the night?”
“We had to. There was no other way. We let him think she’d run off. She had done it before. That’s why he didn’t report her missing right away.” She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “That’s why I’m here tonight. Orrie said if we scared you away, we could still save Vane.”
“Was Orrie still your boyfriend when you were together at the ballet?”
“No. I broke up with him before that.” She shot him a contemptuous glance. “He doesn’t know how to treat a lady.”
“Then why were you together that night?”
“I got the free tickets, but I don’t drive, so I let him escort me.”
I thought about Mercer’s pickup parked near my car at the Civic Center. Then I remembered the pickup that had pulled up next to my disabled car and how the driver had been waved on by Tango Bueller. Of course, it had been Mercer who punctured my tire.
“Did he know I would be at the ballet that night?”
“Now that you mention it, I did tell him about that when I asked him to escort me.”
“But how did you know?”
“Lola Rampley mentioned it to another volunteer, who told me.” The auxiliary grapevine.
“Mercer tampered with my tire the night of the ballet, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know about that,” Maybelline said. “All I know is Vane is innocent.”
“Maybelline, you don’t have to save Vane. If Bonnie died after Mercer took her away, your brother won’t be implicated. It’s Orrie Mercer who’ll be charged in her death.”
While I waited for Maybelline to digest that, I heard the muffled sound of my phone coming from the direction of Orrie Mercer’s torso. Someone was calling me, but to answer, I’d have to roll Mercer over on his back and dig the phone out of his pocket.
The ringing persisted while I calculated the risk of going for the phone. When Mercer began to squirm, I glared at Maybelline. “Roll him over,” I said.
“Me?” she squeaked.
I waved the gun at her. “Do it.”
She glanced around the room. “Can I hit him with something first?”
“No.”
She tiptoed over to Mercer’s prone form. With a strength that was surprising considering her gaunt frame, she grabbed his shoulder with both hands and tugged him over onto his back. His wrists were still bound behind him.
“What the—” Mercer’s eyes opened. Maybelline shrieked and jumped back.
“Get the phone out of his pocket, Maybelline.”
“No, I can’t. He’s mean. Why don’t you just shoot him?” She backed into the wall and slid down in a crumpled heap on the floor.
Mercer’s head was clearing, and he did, indeed, look mean. It occurred to me too late that I should have stripped off his boots and socks while he was unconscious.
“Mercer, I want that phone.”
“Come and get it.”
“You’re going to cooperate, Mercer, or you’ll lose another toe. Maybe several.”
“Go ahead and take it,” Mercer said. “Put your dainty little hand in my pants.”
“You’re disgusting,” I said, “but I’m going to hold this gun against your temple, Mr. Mercer, and my dainty little hand is pretty shaky. Any sudden movement and I won’t be responsible for what ha
ppens.” His eyes closed as the muzzle pressed against his temple. He stayed perfectly still while I reached in his pocket and retrieved the phone, which had finally stopped ringing. No one there.
I started to dial 911 again.
“Wait,” Mercer said. “I didn’t kill Bonnie.” He cocked his head toward Maybelline. “I don’t care what that bug-eyed freak says. I’ll tell you what happened.”
I stuffed the phone back in my pocket. If getting the truth out of this brute would clear Harry, it was worth the risk.
“Did Bonnie wake up after you took her away from Beardsley’s house?”
He shook his head. “I left her passed out in the truck in my garage. In the morning, she was dead.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Hell, no. Even if I could, I wouldn’t go to the cops. I’ve got other problems with the law.”
“So you said. Why did you bury her in the Dumpster?”
“Hey, I didn’t enjoy it. I had no choice. I had to get rid of her.”
My cellphone rang again. It was Harry.
“Aimee? What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Just great. Where in blazes are you?”
“Almost there. I caught a ride with a friend of Jack’s.”
“What happened to your car?”
“I got the first tire fixed, but another one went flat. Are you okay? I was afraid the slasher was after you.”
“He was. He’s here in my apartment, but I’ve got it under control.”
“Have you called 911?”
“Yes, but that was earlier, and no one’s shown up yet.”
“Then hang up. I’ll call them again.”
“Hurry.” I pocketed the phone.
Maybelline had picked herself up off the floor. “Do you still want Orrie’s keys?”
“Definitely. Your turn.” I held the gun on Mercer while she sidled toward him.
His hand shot out from under his back and grabbed her ankle. A scrap of duct tape dangled from his wrist.
“Help,” she screeched.
He got to his knees and pulled her in front of him as a shield.
She hit him in the nose with her elbow, and when he let go, she ran across the room. Mercer charged me, ramming his head into my belly, knocking the wind out of me and sending the gun flying. I landed on my butt and he stumbled past me into the dining nook. He catapulted into the table, caught his foot in a chair, and crashed to the floor, howling, his leg tangled in the chair and cocked at a crazy angle. I felt a blackout coming on and looked away. The gun had landed on the floor halfway between Maybelline and me. I crawled toward it on my belly.
Mercer shouted at her. “Get the gun, dammit.”
Maybelline grabbed the gun and pointed it at both of us. Her eyes darted back and forth at a dizzying rate.
“Shoot her,” Mercer said, “then get me outta here. It’s the only way to save your brother.”
“No,” I said. “My brother will be here any second. We can help each other. We can save both our brothers.”
Maybelline looked at Mercer, who was groaning in pain, then looked at me lying on the floor, breathless. She shook her head.
“I’m sorry, dearie.”
Chapter 48
With my eyes squeezed tight, I waited for the bullet, heartbroken that I had failed my brother so completely.
“Aimee?” I heard Harry’s voice, and he sounded puzzled. Was I in heaven already? Why was Harry there? I opened my eyes. He stood in the doorway holding Maybelline by the scruff of her camo-covered neck. Mercer’s gun was in his other hand.
“Ah, crap,” Mercer groaned.
“Harry?” I looked up from my prone position on the floor.
“Jesus, Aimee, your face is covered in blood.”
I got to my feet, putting my weight on my good leg. “It’s nothing. I cut my forehead.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” I resisted the impulse to cry with relief and smother him in hugs. “Now that you’re here, you can help me sort out this mess.”
“Right. I assume the howler under the table is your villain, but who’s this?”
“That’s Maybelline. How did you catch her?”
“She was coming down the stairs when I got here. What were you doing on the floor?”
“Waiting to die. She was going to shoot me.”
Maybelline squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “That’s not true, Miss Machado. I was doing nothing of the sort.”
I took a couple of test steps toward her and Harry. Despite Mercer’s head butt and the throbbing pain in my shin, I could still walk. “Then why did you say you were sorry?”
“Because I was running away. Leaving you to work things out with Orrie by yourself.”
“What shall I do with her?” Harry asked.
Maybelline must have read my mind. “Please don’t kill me,” she shrieked. “It was all his fault.” She pointed a shaky finger at Orrie Mercer, who writhed in pain under the dinette table. “He’s not just a killer, he’s a drug dealer, too. I can tell you things.”
“Shut up,” Mercer roared. “You’ll be sorry, old woman.” He jerked his leg free of the chair with a yowl of pain and reached toward his boot, the torn duct tape still dangling from his wrist.
In a blur of movement, Harry shoved Maybelline and me toward the door. I grabbed her around the waist and held her tight, spinning away from the open door to stand with my back braced against the outside wall. Mercer’s buck knife sailed out the door and thwocked into a post on the deck railing. After a brief scuffle, a bloodcurdling yell issued from inside the bunkhouse, then silence.
“Harry?” I called.
“Someone’s dead,” Maybelline whispered. “I hope it’s the gigolo.”
“Shhhh,” I said. “Harry? Answer me, dammit.”
Harry stepped out onto the deck.
Maybelline clapped her hands like a three-year-old. “Oh, goodie. Is he dead?”
“No,” Harry said, “but he’s not going to make any more trouble tonight.” He looked me over. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes.”
He used damp paper towels to clean most of the blood off my face.
“That’s better,” he said. “Now I need to make some calls.”
The three of us stayed outside on the deck while Harry made his calls. He followed up with the sheriff’s office first, then called Abe.
He was still on the phone when a set of headlights approached down the lane. A second set of lights followed. I was expecting patrol cars, but soon recognized that the vehicles belonged to Nick and to Jared Quinn. They bounded up the stairs wearing twin expressions of relief and curiosity.
“Aimee, thank God,” Nick said, his eyes glistening.
“Bloody freaking hell,” Quinn said, staring at Maybelline. “What’s she doing here?”
Two sheriff’s cruisers arrived next, followed by an ambulance. The flashing lights on the emergency vehicles and the squawking of two-way radios brought the llamas to their feet and the turkeys down from their roosts.
Harry and I recounted Orrie Mercer’s criminal acts to the officers on the scene. Quinn stood by, paying particular attention to Maybelline’s hysterical ramblings, but in the end, the woman’s true role in the evening was unclear. Hostage or accessory? With her mental history, I figured that would take some time to sort out.
From my deck, Quinn and I watched the ambulance with Mercer inside drive away, followed by the patrol cars, one of them carrying Maybelline. Harry had joined Nick in the pasture, where they were busy calming the llamas and turkeys.
Quinn turned to me. “Are you staying here tonight?”
“Where else?”
“Anywhere. You’ve had a pretty traumatic time of it.”
“It’s over. I’ll be fine.”
Quinn took my elbow and walked me inside the bunkhouse. “I feel like shit. I nearly got you killed.”
“How do you figure?”
“I ask
ed you to spy on Beardsley. Mercer must have picked up on that and figured you were a threat. He’s put you through hell these past two weeks.”
“Don’t blame yourself. Everything I did, I would have done in any case.”
“You’re limping,” he said.
“I hurt my leg, it’s nothing.”
“Sit, let me take a look.”
I wanted to defy his order, but my leg hurt too much. I sat in the nearest chair. He rolled my pant leg up, revealing the ugly bruise.
“Christ, Aimee. You need medical attention. You should have shown this to the EMTs.”
“I didn’t think of it. It’s just a bruise.”
“What about your head?” He held my hair up and saw the cut near my hairline. “That needs stitches. I’m taking you to the ER.” He reached for my arm, wrapped it around his shoulder.
At that moment, Nick and Harry came through the door.
“What’s going on?” Nick asked.
Harry kept quiet, but I could read his mind. He expected Nick to reclaim his woman.
“I’m taking her to the hospital,” Quinn said. We stood there facing Nick, my arm around Quinn’s neck, his arm around my waist.
Nick looked into my eyes. “I’ll take her, Mr. Quinn.”
Quinn hesitated, looked to me for a decision. I felt lightheaded and realized I had stopped breathing again.
“Sis,” Harry said, “make up your mind.”
I reached out to Nick.
Chapter 49
Nick drove me to the hospital, and Harry stayed behind at the bunkhouse. I knew he would want to patch the hole I’d made in the ceiling with my gunshot and repair any other signs of my showdown with Mercer. The less we had to explain to Amah and Jack, the better. On the way to the hospital, Nick told me why he hadn’t come sooner and why he had not answered his phone.
“I was dealing with Delta Sawyer, Buck’s wife. She fell down out by the pool.”
His story sounded familiar. “Was she Quinn’s VIP emergency?”
“That’s right. When you called I was using a tourniquet, trying to keep her from bleeding out before the ambulance arrived. She had been swimming in a bikini. She kept saying she wanted to get dressed, but it was impossible. I did manage to get a robe on her.”
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