Relatively Risky

by Pauline Baird Jones

  “She tried to kill my father.” Nell didn’t actually know this, but it felt true and might be a way to mess with his head, particularly if Dunstead thought the old lady had material instincts. “Her own son. You really think she’ll be loyal to you?”

  “Phil betrayed her. She told me all about it. I would never do that to her. I’m better than a son. I’ve helped her for years, and I gave her something Phil couldn’t. I gave her the secret.”

  “The secret?” His dad’s secret?

  He half frowned. “I didn’t know I had it or I would have told her sooner. But she understood. I was just a kid. When my dad told me, I didn’t know what it meant. And when he died, people hounded my mom about it, but they never asked me.”

  “How old were you?” Nell asked. Seemed like keeping him talking was a good plan until she figured out a better one. “When your dad told you the secret.”

  “I was twelve.”

  “And she…helped you?”

  “She gave me a job when I left—when I turned eighteen.”

  She didn’t help him a whole lot. More like she helped herself to useful tool, one with mama and papa issues.

  “But you didn’t tell her the secret until recently.” Zach had said the feds thought Dunstead had the dirt on all three men. Could he really have told his twelve year old son where it was?

  “He told me not to tell.”

  “And the—Mrs. St. Cyr never asked you about it?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “She did a couple of times, but I didn’t know, I didn’t realize she was okay.”

  That must have pissed grandma off. All those years and he had it. Dunstead didn’t know it, but grandma would make him pay for that—when she didn’t need him anymore.

  “She told me about how she and my dad were supposed to be partners, but the old man told Phil to take him out. So I then knew it was okay, that she was the one I needed to tell. When we get the proof, I’ll be her right hand man and we’ll run it all together.”

  How would the proof that her dead dad had killed his dad thirty years ago help them “get it all?” And why would Phil have kept information that incriminated him? It made no sense. But if it incriminated grandma—had her Dad known? Had he been kinder to his mother than she’d been to him? Or—had he known that to use it was to let her know he wasn’t dead? Had he protected his family by keeping her secret, but kept whatever it was because he could never be completely sure his mama wouldn’t find him?

  “I’ll need the ring, too.” He half smiled. “I saw the old man slip into your case. I was watching it all go down. For her. I set it all up for her, and she asked me to be her eyes and ears for the hit.”

  Poor Phil. Poor Dad. And poor me, stuck in a laundry room with a crazy guy and a black widow outside waiting for this tool to deliver her the goods. “Does…she know I have the ring?”

  “I wanted to surprise her with it. She thinks the cops have it.” His smile turned down. “Binx was supposed to get it after he popped the old man. He claimed he did get it but wanted more money, so he pretended he’d hand it over. He shouldn’t have lied.”

  Memo to self, don’t lie to the crazy guy. Not that she’d planned to. She sucked at lying. She studied him thoughtfully, anxious to postpone the truth-telling moment. If he was the old ladies go-to guy…

  “I suppose you’re the one who shot at us,” Nell said.

  He grinned. “She doesn’t like you.”

  “She hadn’t even met me,” Nell pointed out.

  “You were surplus to requirements.”

  That sounded like a direct quote.

  “And now?” Nell shouldn’t have asked it. She knew the answer.

  “You have something we want.”

  And then she’d be surplus again.

  Alex stopped in the kitchen doorway, his gaze sweeping the room. His dad, the scary widow, Sarah and his brother. No one looked happy. At least he wouldn’t be bringing the mood down. “Where’s Nell?”

  “What do you mean? I thought she was with you.” Sarah looked alarmed.

  “I had to take a call.” He didn’t think he was outside that long. Had she slipped past this room? Was she worried about facing Ben? That didn’t seem like her.

  “Perhaps she wished to refresh herself before joining us,” Mrs. St. Cyr said.

  They both needed to freshen up a lot, Alex conceded, but something in the old lady’s eyes bothered him. Her lashes swept down, as if she sensed his interest and just like that his brain went from fuzzy to clear.

  He knew the power of a stare. He was a cop, so he deployed it. She held it pretty well for maybe a minute, but finally lifted her brows, a shade of annoyed creeping in. He kept the pressure on, while he mulled what she might be up to. Was she making a move? The old lady shifted, a small one, but a shift. Oh yeah, she was. But what was the end game? They couldn’t get Nell out of the house without—chaos and confusion. They thought—or were afraid—Nell had something. He didn’t need to look at the two boxes they’d left stacked by the door, waiting to be ferried back upstairs. They even had her name written on the side with markers. Old lady didn’t know she had her hopes pinned on nothing.

  Big house. The three men couldn’t cover every exit and search for Nell. A little divide and conquer on the menu? Take them out one at a time? If that was the plan, it was a bold move for the old lady. Did she really think her bodyguards would take the fall for her?

  But how had someone got Nell past this door? There was nowhere in the short hall from back door to kitchen where someone could hide—wait. There was a door. He’d seen it, without seeing it. A coat closet maybe?

  “What’s behind that door back there? Between here and the back door?” he asked, without taking his gaze off the old lady. Her lashes flickered at the question. Score.

  “The laundry room?” Sarah asked, puzzled and worried in her voice.

  There’d been something about the door. Something he’d noticed when he walked by…

  “Where are your bodyguards, ma’am?” Alex asked. Light. There’d been a thin line of light showing in the dim hall. Not a lot. It wasn’t that dark in that very long hall. It could have been natural light.

  “I sent them on an errand.”

  “I’ll bet you did.” Alex smiled grimly. “Does the laundry room have a window?”

  “No.” Sarah’s voice was harder now, too.

  “You think they are holding her in the laundry room?” Ben asked the question. He was up and around the table before he finished. He hooked a hip on the table edge by the old lady and pulled out his weapon, not pointing it at her, not yet.

  The old lady answered his question with an involuntary tightening of her lips.

  “That’s crazy,” Sarah said. “What’s the point?”

  “In confusion, there is opportunity,” Zach said, a weapon appearing in his hand, too.

  For a fraction of a second, Alex wondered—his dad looked at him.

  “You got a plan, son?”

  Alex grinned. “If they want confusion, then maybe we should give them some.”

  “Taking them a while to miss you.”

  Nell made a sort of face. “I’ve always kind of blended into the woodwork.” Until New Orleans. Wearing the face of a wise wife had popped her out of the background.

  “Nell!” It was Sarah. A pause, then she said quite clearly, “She could have gone up to her room. Let me check.”

  She gave Junior a “see, people do miss me” look. Sarah’s footsteps pounding up the stairs seemed a little louder than usual…

  “Time to start talking.” Junior pulled out his cell phone and waved it at her. “I text Mrs. St. Cyr with the location of the proof and we leave. No one gets hurt.”

  It seemed unlike grandma not-dearest to put herself at risk like this. A chill shot down her back as she realized that none of them were supposed to walk out of this house alive. The others would live just long enough for her to talk and then…

  “I don’t think I trust her to k
eep her word,” Nell said. It was them against grandma and Junior, but only she knew it. If she was going to make her move, she needed to come up with one sooner rather than later. Her gaze bounced around the small space. All the toxic liquids had stinking child-proof caps. She had trouble with them when she wasn’t under threat of death. Her gaze went past the mops and brooms. Tracked back. No child locks on a broom. Granted she’d never jousted but she had seen A Knight’s Tale. Surely that counted for something. And if the hit was good and solid, it might give her the time she needed to get the gun out.

  Nell shifted, grimacing as if she hurt. It was easy to do, since she did. With her right hand, she rubbed her back, as if trying to ease the pain, but using it to get closer to the broom. Or the mop. Either one would do. Which would be easier to deploy? Neither had what she’d call great balance. Needed the pointy end, so thinking the mop. The broom had that big, straw end. Mentally she planned her grip, her moves.

  “I wonder if she went back outside? I meant to bring her cell in, but I forgot.” It was Alex’s voice.

  Junior went on full alert, his gun leveling on her. Nell tried not to frown. Alex knew she didn’t have a cell—was it a message? Did he suspect they were in here? It was possible. Hope poked a little sprout up out of the dark determination. If he knew—but what did he want her to do—cell? She looked at Junior’s cell.

  Junior frowned, waved the gun and mouthed, “Back.”

  Nell pointed at the back wall and he nodded. She did it with meek obedience. It put her right where she wanted to be. The sound of footsteps drew Junior’s attention back to the door. Nell used the moment to check out the clutter. Yeah, for sure the mop.

  His cell phone vibrated. The sound oddly loud in the small space. His gaze jerked down.

  Nell grabbed the mop. Swung it up. And around. She lunged forward. Almost tripped on the dead guy. She staggered a bit, but momentum carried her forward despite the stagger.

  His gun started to come up.

  “Now!” she yelled.

  The point caught him in the solar plexus. She knew that because she was a librarian. She even knew how it was spelled. The jolt of the hit reverberated through all her sore places. And knocked the mop from her grasp. His gun went flying. Her foot landed on a dead guy body part.

  She jumped back.

  She managed to get the gun out of her pants. But no time to chamber a round.

  The door flew open, possibly from a well placed kick. Hit him in the back.

  He staggered toward her. Gasping like a landed fish. Tripped over the dead guy. He tried to grab the dryer.

  She just had time to apply the butt to the temple he presented so invitingly.

  He dropped like a stone onto the dead guy.

  And then Alex and Ben were in the room, making it very crowded, but in a good way.

  13

  While Ben called in the troops, Alex followed Nell to the kitchen. Zach had the old lady covered, which widened Nell’s eyes a bit until Sarah grabbed her and hugged her.

  Alex met his dad’s worried look with a slight, reassuring nod. The only one who didn’t look happy was the old lady, but she’d probably forgotten how years ago. He didn’t know if they’d be able to bring it home to her. Dunstead had started to unravel as soon as the cuff’s snapped around his wrists. His elevator had probably quit going to the top a long time ago. But he’d damn well try.

  Nell, her lop-sided gaze sober but steady, watched the old lady call her lawyer, then get escorted out by a couple of uniforms.

  “Are you all right?” Sarah asked, bringing her a glass of water and a couple of tablets of something.

  “It’s a bit weird to see your grandmother get hauled out in cuffs. I suppose, if my parents hadn’t run away and had managed to not get killed, I’d have grown up used to that.” She blinked, then smiled ruefully. She looked at Alex. “She was in on it, though Junior is so whacked, I wonder if she’ll managed to wiggle out of it.”

  “In on what?” Alex asked, making the automatic switch to cop. It was easier. And comfortable. She’d hugged him after Curly, but this time there’d been too many bodies between them for hugging. He liked her, maybe more than he realized before the near death experiences. She was funny, cute, he was impressed she managed to arm herself in the cemetery, and she could handle a mop. His dad had stowed his weapon and pulled back from this scene. Now he watched Nell with a slight frown between his old man brows. Was he remembering Charlie? No question they all needed some thinking time—which wouldn’t happen until Alex got some sleep.

  “She told him I had proof that my—that Phil killed his father.”

  Alex tried to process this, but it made no sense.

  “Why would Phil—” Zach started to ask, then stopped. “Can’t fix stupid.”

  “She played him pretty good,” Nell said, propping an elbow on the table and resting her cheek on her hand. She looked like she needed the help keeping her chin up.

  “You’re pretty whacked,” Alex said. “Why don’t you give me the short version and when you’re rested, we can get your official statement?”

  Nell blinked, covered a yawn with her hand and nodded. “Short version. Right.” She added the other hand to the chin prop. “Junior hired the guy who popped St. Cyr on the old lady’s orders. Then he killed that guy. He is also the one who shot at us and killed your truck. Oh, and he told her the secret that his dad told him.” She paused, as if replaying things. “And he knows about the ring. He was watching the whole thing.” Another pause. “I think that’s the big stuff.” She frowned, rubbed her face.

  “You’re done,” Alex said. “Do you need help up…?”

  “I’ll go with her,” Sarah said, her eyes worried, despite the smile.

  Nell stood up like everything hurt, which it probably did. She started to leave, but stopped, her gaze moving between him and his dad. “Thanks.”

  For a minute, it seemed she wanted to say more, but exhaustion defeated her. Alex didn’t mind. He wasn’t ready for more. He turned back and found his dad watching him, but he wasn’t ready to talk to him yet either.

  “I need to help Ben,” he said and walked out before Zach could play the dad card.

  Nell sank onto her bed and looked at Sarah, seated at her desk.

  “So.” Sarah sat relaxed, her fingers tapping the desk top. “You’re not dead.”

  “I’m a little surprised about that,” Nell admitted. Maybe three times really was the charm? She needed to shower, but the climb had sapped her. It had been a forty-eight hours that would live in infamy, not to mention memory. If not for the kiss, she’d have tried to scrub them out.

  Sarah made a scoffing sound. “Your DNA has to be loaded with survivor instincts. Look at your parents.”

  Nell had been trying to see her parents for two days. “I saw Toni’s grave.”

  “You mean her not-grave.”

  Nell’s smile felt wan, she looked up, found Sarah’s eyes full of compassion. “In a way, it really is Toni’s grave.” Nell gave her friend a wry smile. “It’s like they both did die here, were buried here, because they stopped being those two kids and became my parents.”

  Sarah sighed. “It’s still hard to believe.”

  “I know.” She made a face. “I’m so over cemeteries for the time being.” She gave her the short version of her adventures in bad guy dodging.

  “You wield a mean mop.” Sarah shook her head. “Girl, you could write a book.”

  “That has its big finish in a laundry room?”

  “Saved by the broom.” Sarah chuckled.

  Nell made a face, which made her shiner hurt. “Kind of embarrassing.” Should she have told Alex about the music box?

  “What’s wrong?” Sarah tipped her head. “Besides the obvious.”

  Nell managed a wry grin, but it faded fast. “I think I know where it is.”

  “It? The proof?” Sarah straightened.

  “The something.”

  “But we looked through everything
—” she stopped. “We didn’t look inside the insides of the music box.”

  “It’s probably the only thing my dad would know for sure I wouldn’t get rid of.”

  Nell woke to sunshine and the knowledge that while there was still crime scene tape across the laundry room, all the cops were outside the house, not inside anymore. Ben had explained that, until they had a better idea of wise guys’ intentions, there would be surveillance on the house.

  Nell wandered around and eventually found Sarah on the phone. When she hung up, Nell asked, “Please tell me everyone isn’t canceling their bookings?”

  “Quite the contrary. We’ve just about doubled our bookings,” Sarah glanced at her watch, “in the last two hours.”

  “How many of them are my scary relatives?”

  Sarah laughed. “I haven’t had time to Google all of them yet, but they seem to be the normal rich people who can afford us.”

  Nell sank back in the chair. “Wow.” The relief was, well, there was a lot of it.

  “I’d still have preferred that the business got toasted instead of you.”

  “You—”

  Sarah held up a finger. “Don’t say it. We’re sisters from different mothers, though I have to say, I thought I was the one with the motha.”

  Nell laughed then and it felt good, even though the question felt like it hung in the air between them. It for sure was in Sarah’s eyes. She rubbed her face, then sighed.

  “I think I have to open it, even though I don’t want to.” If there was something in there, then the last, faint hope that this was all some weird mistake would be gone forever. Okay, it was gone now, but forever was still in play. Or at least denial was still sort of possible.

  “I kind of figured you’d say that.” Sarah stood up, bent and lifted the music box onto her desk. Then she slid a flathead screwdriver and a hammer into view. “Oh, almost forgot.” She pulled out some duct tape. “For the lid.”

  That made Nell laugh again. For sure she did not need Memories playing as she dived into the murky past. “Right.”