If we were lucky.
My baby kicked. A response to my blood pressure rising. I slipped a hand protectively to my belly.
The photographer’s eyes never strayed from Robbie’s face. I could tell by the way Vincent cocked his arm that he was ready to swoop down on Robbie. Luckily for us, the man didn’t consider me to be a factor. Why should he?
No, Vincent was totally focused on Robbie, as he shifted his weight again. This time, the photographer was poised to step forward.
I needed a distraction—and I needed it fast. I needed to get Vincent’s attention.
But how?
By accusing him of murder!
“You killed Dr. Hyman!” I yelled.
Without thinking, Vincent twisted his head my way. As he moved, I grabbed the dustpan full of glitter. With a shoveling motion, I tossed the contents into Vincent’s face. The grit, the small plastic chunks, and any dirt from the floor flew into his eyes.
“Argh!” he yelled.
Robbie grabbed at Vincent, but Vincent twisted away from his grasp.
Blinking, struggling to see clearly, Vincent raised the knife again. This time he aimed the blade at Robbie’s heart.
Chapter 76
I let the dust pan fall with a clatter. I grabbed the first thing my hands fell on. The cover of Sheila’s wedding album offered a solid grip.
As Vincent fought the urge to wipe his eyes and Robbie stepped away from the knife, I turned the album sideways. Twisting I put all my weight behind the book. I turned with my arms fully extended and braced myself for the impact. The book hit Vincent on the back of the head with a resounding thwack!
He froze but he didn’t let go of the knife. He wasn’t sure where the blow had come from. But he didn’t go down.
I’d stunned him. But I hadn’t really hurt him. I’d just knocked him off his stride. Robbie took a step backwards, away from the raised knife. His arms windmilled as he searched for a weapon. He grabbed a Fiskars paper trimmer and would have used it as a bat, but stumbled over a jar of glitter. One of the few I’d missed in my clean-up efforts. With a loud crash, Robbie sat down, hard. The orange trimmer skittered out of his hands and slid across the floor.
Vincent turned toward me and snarled, “Hyman deserved it! It was his fault she killed herself. She was beautiful. Lovely and thin. Nothing like you. You’re a stupid, fat cow!”
Before I had been scared.
I had been worried about the knife.
I’d been worried about Robbie.
But now I was enraged. Okay, so I had put on a few more pounds than normal. I was pregnant, for goodness sake! It wasn’t fair to call me fat! I tightened my grip on the wedding album.
After being called “poor” and “ignorant” by Bernice, my tolerance for insults had hit rock bottom. This was my store, my little slice of heaven, and Vincent was the second person that morning who’d come in and disturbed the good vibes I’d worked so hard to create.
Fat? Really? That burned my biscuits.
Robbie rolled onto his knees, moving slowly. He must have hit his tailbone really hard when he went down. He winced as he shifted his weight. His face drained of all color as he tried to get to his feet.
He wasn’t going to rescue me. Not in time.
Time for me to put up or shut up.
Vincent turned toward me. His eyes streamed tears. He held the knife blade down in a ham-fisted grip. His beret had been knocked to the floor. With his free hand, he gestured to me, wiggling his fingers. “Come on, come on—”
Then he really ticked me off. He called to me, “Piggy, piggy, piggy!”
That big nose of his, the one he shared with his dead sister, proved his undoing. I used it as my target.
Putting my entire body weight behind me, I swung at Vincent’s face. I smacked him hard. This time my blow caught him dead on.
Crunch!
Blood spattered everywhere as Sheila’s wedding album busted Vincent’s nose.
Chapter 77
This time he dropped his knife. It hit the floor with a clatter. He moaned in pain. The smell of copper filled the air. Both hands flew to his face. The blood spurted out of his nose. He stepped backwards clutching his snozzle.
I kicked his knife out of his reach.
“Grab him!” I yelled to Robbie.
Despite the pain, Robbie was on top of Vincent in the blink of an eye. He had both of the man’s arms behind his back. Robbie slipped the handcuffs onto Vincent, even as the man fought to wipe his eyes.
“You always carry those?” I asked, pointing to the handcuffs. I was bent over and panting with fear and exertion. That wallop took a lot of energy out of me.
“Never know when they’ll come in handy,” said Robbie. “Geez Louise, I thought we both were goners. I’m still not sure how he got mixed up in this.”
Grabbing a tissue out of my pocket, I picked up the long, lethal switchblade and set it on my worktable, comfortably out of Vincent’s reach. “His sister is Miriam, the missing Jimmy Girl who committed suicide because of her collapsing nose.”
“You’ve got nothing on me!” yelled Vincent.
“Right. That’s why you pulled a knife on us for no reason. I bet we can get one of the valet parking attendants to testify that you paid him to call when the doctor arrived. I bet there’s an empty spot in your tool chest and a screwdriver is missing. A stun gun at your house. And blood on your black pants. And your fingerprints will be on the invitation you sent Dr. Hyman,” I snarled. “Listen, buster. Don’t you ever mess with a pregnant woman, hear me? I don’t have the patience for creeps like you!”
“How did he get an invitation?” asked Robbie.
“Sheila insisted that I send him one,” I said. “A lot of brides like the photographer to take pictures of their invitations. Sometimes they have it propped up in front of their flowers.”
“So how’d you forget that?”
“Sorry about that.” I shrugged. “He wasn’t on the guest list. That’s what I focused on.”
“You and Sheila both,” said Robbie.
Vincent kept squirming and yelling obscenities. Robbie planted a big foot in the middle of the photographer’s back and used his cell phone to call for assistance. When he finished, he turned to me and said, “Thank goodness you didn’t hesitate. We could have both been hurt badly. That’s one dandy of a switchblade. He could have poked us both, and we’d be bleeding out on the floor by now.”
I felt a bit woozy and sank down onto my stool. “Thanks for backing me up.”
“I’ve learned to trust you and your instincts.”
“That’s good,” I said, as I put my head between my knees to keep from fainting. “Otherwise, you and I would have been goners for sure.”
Chapter 78
Aunt Penny’s eyebrows flew up to her hairline when she and Anya walked in through the front door. “Dag-nabbit. I missed all the fun. Looks like you had yourself a kerfuffle. Rats!”
“Everything is fine now,” I said to her and Anya. My aunt and my daughter both carried bulging plastic bags and large plastic drink cups. There went our grocery budget for the week!
Anya set the bag of food on my worktable. She gave a low whistle of appreciation when she saw the switchblade.
That knife had to go. Looking at it gave me the creeps. I grabbed a piece of cardstock from my supply bin, folded it to make a casing, and slipped the blade inside. After I taped that makeshift package shut, I emptied a plastic bag from the convenience store and used it as a carrier for the well-packaged blade. This satisfied me that the knife was unlikely to hurt anyone, and the fingerprints on it were protected.
“Geez,” said my adorable daughter as she watched me handle the lethal dagger. “I thought papercuts were bad news. That could have done some serious damage. What was he planning to use it for?”
Then it dawned on her.
“On you?” Anya squeaked. “I can’t believe he’d do that! You creep!”
“She’s a fat cow!” scream
ed Vincent. “I’ve been blinded! And my nose is bleeding!”
“Maybe something cold will help,” said Anya, as she dumped her iced tea over his head.
Vincent screamed and cursed.
Robbie and Aunt Penny started laughing.
“You tell him, girlfriend!” said my aunt, as she raised her hand for a high-five.
“Anya!” This was not behavior I wanted to encourage. I grabbed her and yanked her away. “Not cool. Go get towels so we can mop up. But you need to stay clear of him.”
“I will,” she said. “Now that he’s had a bath.” She practically skipped away.
“Aunt Penny, don’t encourage that!” I said, but she only snickered.
“Better that she feel tough and in charge than scared of that jerk,” said Aunt Penny.
“Well, maybe,” I admitted.
Robbie kept his foot firmly planted on Vincent’s back while he spoke to someone on the phone. In the distance, there came the familiar sound of sirens.
“It can’t hurt that you’ll get credit for this collar,” I said, smiling up at the big cop. Anya brought the towels we keep in the back. I dropped them to the floor and mopped up some of the puddle with my foot. Vincent was still bleeding, but I had no sympathy for the man.
“Sheila says you can borrow her car as long as you like!” Robbie laughed.
It was good to see him smiling again. He hadn’t said a word when Anya dumped the drink on Vincent. I imagined that he had seen worse, but I still intended to discipline my daughter for her rude behavior.
Although Robbie seemed pleased, I knew the evidence linking Vincent to Dr. Hyman’s murder really was skimpy. Of course, the man’s attack on us proved something was amiss. Since he’d been pinned to the floor, he hadn’t said a word, except to yelp when the cold drink hit him. That was smart on his part, but it sure wouldn’t help Robbie. Especially if Prescott had botched the investigation.
I shook my head as I picked up the wet towels. If only there was a way to get Vincent to confess.
Chapter 79
I was tossing a white trash bag in our Dumpster when a car door slammed. It was Stan Hadcho in his Crown Victoria. Why had Robbie called him first? Did Hadcho know how skimpy our evidence was?
“Hey!” I called to the detective. I picked my way around puddles to greet Hadcho. I told him about my suspicions.
“Vincent told us he was avenging his sister’s suicide,” I explained and told him about Miriam Wasserman. “He had the means, probably a tool from his camera equipment.”
“Opportunity?” asked Hadcho.
“I think so. I don’t remember him taking photos during the ceremony, do you? I was focused on Sheila and Robbie, so I didn’t notice. I bet if we looked through his pictures we could tell.”
“What about the invitation?”
I explained why Sheila and I both had overlooked the fact that Vincent had an invitation.
Hadcho leaned against his Crown Vic. “But how did he think to frame your mother?
“Vincent took photos at the Senior Center. He must have overheard that my mother shouted at Dr. Hyman. Mom left her purse behind when Vincent took photos of her at the wedding. He probably slipped the screwdriver in her handbag then before he returned it.”
“Right,” agreed Hadcho. “But this is still pretty skimpy stuff.”
I sighed. “I know. Maybe you can get a search warrant and find the stun gun?”
“That won’t be enough,” said Hadcho.
Side-by-side, we walked into my store. Robbie still had his foot planted in Vincent’s back. Hadcho took his handcuffs out of his back pocket and linked the photographer to the support beam next to my work table.
“Don’t you dare try to get up off of that floor,” said Hadcho. “Or it’ll be the last move you make.”
Aunt Penny trotted out from the backroom with her nail gun. “I’m primed and ready to use this here nail gun on this here creep. Just to keep him from moving around. All you have to do is say the word, Chief Holmes. I’ve got pretty good aim.”
Pft-pft-pft. She fired off a crooked line of nails into my floor.
“Oops,” she said. “Dang it. I thought I had the safety on.”
“Stop her!” whined Vincent. “Please!”
“Is that what I think it is?” asked Hadcho.
Pft-pft-pst! Aunt Penny put a line of nails in the leg of my worktable.
“Well, drat,” she said. “My finger slipped.”
I have to admit that the sight of a woman in bifocals waving around a lethal weapon was enough to leave me quaking in my Keds. Vincent’s eyes were wide with fright. I couldn’t blame him.
“Um, Aunt Penny, could you put that down?” Robbie asked. He motioned to Hadcho to come stand with him. They were within easy reach of Vincent, but not on top of him.
“I will put this aside when I’m good and ready,” she cackled, and she gave Robbie a big wink.
Pft-pft-pft. Aunt Penny let fly with another volley. One right after another. In a second crooked line. Two inches from Vincent’s head.
“Stop her!” screamed Vincent. “She’s going to put out my eye!”
“Okay,” Robbie said. “I’m not officially working, and Hadcho isn’t either, but I suppose we could take you in, Mr. Wasserman. But first I need to read you your rights. You have the right—”
“I want a lawyer!” screamed Vincent.
“Have it your way,” said Robbie. “We’ve got a while before the patrol car comes.”
Pft!
A nail flew by narrowly missing my blue denim Keds.
“Eeek! Aunt Penny, you need to be careful!” I said.
She smirked at me. Robbie shrugged. He and Hadcho conferred in low voices.
Pft!
This nail went wide. Too wide. Aunt Penny hit one of my shelving units. Vincent squealed like a two-year-old on a swing set.
“Sorry!” said Aunt Penny. “My arms are getting tired. Kind of lost my grip. You better ‘fess up or I’ll get you right between the eyes.”
“Fat cow here.” I squatted down so that Vincent and I were nearly eye-level. “Uh, I could call her off. If I wanted to. Where’d you put the stun gun?”
“It’s still in my van!”
Pft. Another nail flew past me and into the floor.
“Hmm,” I said. “Her aim is getting worse by the minute. How did your screwdriver get into my mother’s purse?”
“I put it there! Before I handed it back to your sister!”
Robbie nodded to me and gave me a thumbs up. That meant he had enough information. With a search warrant, they’d be able to gather the evidence they needed.
Anya pulled up a stool at my workbench and sat down. Once seated, my darling daughter calmly bit into her tuna fish salad sandwich. You would have never guessed we had a murderer on the floor behind her.
“Get me out of here!” yelled Vincent.
“Anya, honey, don’t you want to take that into the back?” I asked.
“Nope. I want to hang around and watch them arrest that creep. Should be fun.”
What had I done as a parent to raise a child so unruffled by danger? I made a note to put a call into the family therapist. But until then, I couldn’t bring myself to leave things alone. I whispered in her ear, “Fun? Anya, this isn’t upsetting you?”
“Nope,” she said. “This is good experience for me. I’ve decided I want to be a cop when I grow up. Just like Robbie and Detweiler. After all, being a cop runs in our family.”
Oh, boy.
My baby, a cop?
No way!
I seized on that phrase, “Being a cop runs in our family,” and I nearly replied, “Oh, no, it doesn’t. Robbie and Detweiler aren’t really your family.” Fortunately a tickle in my throat caused a spasm, and I coughed. As I covered my mouth, I caught a glimpse of Robbie’s face. He was practically lit up like a jack-o-lantern. I’ve never seen him so happy. His eyes glowed with affection for Anya.
I couldn’t have it both way
s.
I was caught between a rock and a hard place. If I truly believed that we were all one big family, how could I disagree with Anya? How could I say, “Robbie isn’t your real grandfather and Detweiler isn’t your real dad, so you should become a businessman like your real father, George”? The truth was: I couldn’t. Because if I did, then it followed that, “Aunt Penny isn’t your real aunt and Erik isn’t your real brother.”
This was my chance to “walk the talk.”
While my mind did these mental gymnastics, Vincent started squirming around on the floor.
“If you plan to go into law enforcement, then maybe you should be aiming this here nail gun at our bad guy,” said Aunt Penny as she passed the gun over to my daughter.
“All right!” said Anya.
“No way!” I yelled and grabbed the nail gun out of my daughter’s hands.
Chapter 80
Late Thursday Night/Five days after the wedding…
Los Angeles, California
A surge of tenderness swept through Detweiler as he tucked the Spiderman covers tightly around Erik. The child smelled of baby shampoo, the fragrance of innocence. “You have a big day tomorrow. We’re going to have an adventure. Do you remember who you’re going to meet?”
“Anya,” said the child carefully. “My new sister.”
“And?” prompted Detweiler.
“A big dog named Gracie!”
“And?”
“A donkey. Monroe!”
Detweiler frowned. “I think you are forgetting someone. Who is Anya’s mother?”
“Kiki,” said Erik.
“Very good!” said Detweiler as he ruffled Erik’s hair.
Explaining who Kiki was, and that she’d be Erik’s new mother, seemed unnecessarily cruel. Especially when the boy still asked about Gina several times a day. Detweiler had decided not to press the issue. When he mentioned this quandary to his mother, Thelma Detweiler had suggested that he let Kiki and Erik sort out their relationship over time.
Group, Photo, Grave (A Kiki Lowenstein Mystery) Page 26
