by Nan Sampson
She crabbed backwards, her tail bone smarting, trying to get to her feet even as Muriel stalked towards her. Muriel wore a creepy smile, though her teeth were clenched together. "You know I didn't mean to kill her. I just snapped. She just had to make that comment about the Twinkies I had in my purse. I get low blood sugar, you know." Her face grew even blotchier, and her voice grated. "It's not a fucking crime to eat a Twinkie now and again." She sneered. "Some of us aren't born to be mean, skinny-assed bitches with the figure of a 12-year old boy. Some of us were born with natural curves." She took a shuddering breath, shook out her hair a little. When she continued, she was calmer. "But when that purse strap bit into her neck, she finally shut up - and I just kept tightening it while she silently begged me to stop."
Ellie scrambled back even as Muriel walked slowly forward. She tried again to get to her feet, but Muriel kicked her in the knee and Ellie fell back. At her exclamation of pain, Muriel laughed. "You're almost as bad as Lacey. You never seem to shut up either. But don't worry. I'll kill you quickly. I only made Lacey suffer because she spent ten years making me suffer."
Ellie scooted back and felt the cool hard surface of the door to the roof at her back. Her mouth was suddenly dry as she realized Muriel wasn't just threatening her. She really meant to kill her. Damn it, Lacey, where are you when I need you? Remembering the earring clutched in her hand, she tossed it down the hall. "You don't need to do that. There, there's the damned earring."
Muriel turned slightly, following the path of the skittering piece of jewelry, and in that instant, Ellie stood and yanked on the handle of the door to the roof.
Chapter 46
She’d half-expected the door to the roof to be locked, but thank the Goddess, it wasn’t. She slammed it shut behind her, hoping there would be a way to lock it from the inside, but she must have used up all her luck.
The lighting was dim, a single overhead fixture illuminating the gray cinder-block space, and it was significantly colder than it had been in the hallway. As she wedged her body against the door to keep it closed, she could see that directly ahead of her was a narrow stairwell leading up to a fire door at the top that must lead outside.
Muriel threw herself at the door, jarring Ellie backwards. She slammed it with her own body, closing it again, but she knew it was a losing battle. Waiting until after one of Muriel’s attacks, she abandoned the door and raced up the stairs, taking two at a time. She was about half way up when she Muriel barreled through the heavy door below her. There was a thin laugh and the woman started up the stairs, her footsteps slow and steady. Ellie forced herself not to look back. You were never supposed to look back. Reaching the top of the stairs, she pulled on the lever-type door handle, barking her knuckles on the metal fire door when the handle didn't budge.
Muriel stopped in the middle of the stairs and jingled something. Ellie tried the door one more time, then turned to face Muriel. Muriel giggled and, still pointing the gun at Ellie, held up a key ring in her other hand. "You might need these."
Ellie's back was up against the door. There was nowhere to go, nothing to hide behind. Damn it, she wasn't ready to die. Especially not like this. The worst part, she thought, was that Charlie would be totally justified in saying 'I told you so' at her funeral. He'd told her to wait for him, told her Muriel was dangerous, but she'd wanted to do this on her own.
Charlie. Where the hell was he? If she could only stall for time. "People know I'm here, Muriel. Even if you manage to hide my body, they're going to know you were involved. Why don't we just agree to forget all this? You have the earring. That's the only evidence linking you to Lacey's death. Just step aside and we can both go our separate ways."
Ellie grew chilled. She could feel the cold seeping in from the fire door behind her, but also now in front of her, making even her fingers ache with it.
Muriel sneered at her. "Do you really think I'm that dumb?" Her breath puffed out in a cloud and she shook her head. "I'm neither stupid nor crazy. You and that bitch are just the same. Maybe I will choke the life out of you, it will certainly be more satisfying than just putting one between your eyes, like I did with that bastard Lawson." She gave a feral grin. "That is, of course, after I've subdued you with this."
There was flash and a deafening bang. Ellie waited for an explosion of pain but it never came. The air shimmered in front of her, like the mirage of water on a heat-baked rise in the road and then she heard the bullet ping off the metal door frame to her left. It seemed impossible that Muriel had missed, she was only a couple of yards away. Muriel shrieked in anger and fired again, but the shimmering in front of Ellie seemed to deflect the second bullet as it had the first and it too swerved to the side, impacting against the cement block wall. Razor-sharp shards of concrete showered her, hitting her face and hands, but was nothing to the zing of emotions that spun around her. Ellie grinned. She recognized that energy, reveled in the smugness mixed with anger. Lacey.
Ellie's knees wobbled and she sagged back against the door. "Thanks, Lacey," she said to the shimmering veil in front of her.
Muriel cursed, then reached into her bag. Muttering something under her breath, the woman threw a handful of the coarse grained sea salt up the stairs. The shimmer brightened -- then abruptly faded away.
Muriel narrowed her eyes in an evil smile. “Hah! Take that, bitch.” She started up the stairs again, moving slowly, until she was just three steps below Ellie.
The woman looked around her and crowed. "Is that all you've got left, Lacey? Not as powerful as you thought you were, you stupid bitch. I got rid of you with a handful of blessed salt and a simple ward.” Ellie watched nervously as Muriel waved the gun around. The woman was so busy addressing Lacey's shade she wasn't aware of the door to the hall opening below. Ellie did her best to keep her face expressionless when she saw Charlie and his detective friend, Terry Borchard, slip quietly onto the landing. Charlie looked up at her and put his finger to his lips. She acknowledged him with a tiny nod and returned her attention to Muriel.
She’d barely had time to shift her gaze when Charlie rushed up the steps. Muriel must have heard something because she spun around. With an animal snarl, she stretched out her arm and aimed the muzzle of the gun right at Charlie’s face.
"No!" Knowing Muriel wouldn’t hesitate to fire, Ellie flung herself at Muriel, grasping for the arm that held the gun, trying to pull it upwards. She slammed into Muriel's body and the two went tumbling down the steps, knocking Charlie down as they went. Muriel twisted in her grasp like a fish as they thudded hard on the concrete landing. Ellie crashed into the cinder block wall. Her chest burned as the wind was knocked out of her, but she maintained her grip on Muriel's wrist. The gun went off and the blast nearly deafened her.
Muriel lips pulled back in a vicious grin as she wrenched her wrist out of Ellie's grasp. Her eyes glowed with a mad light. "You're dead, bitch. Just like your skinny-assed friend."
No, she decided. It wasn't going to end like this. She swung on the woman, a wild attack, nailing Muriel in the side of the head. In the same moment, a pair of large hands grabbed Muriel by the upper arms and dragged her off Ellie.
Ellie scrambled to her feet while Terry easily held Muriel in a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides.
In his flat Chicago accent, Borchard said, "Sweet swing. What weight do you normally fight at?"
She gave a shaky laugh. "Credit goes to my self-defense trainer."
Borchard smiled and nodded, even as he managed to put a zip tie around the still stunned Muriel's wrists. "I'll have to get his name."
"Less banter and more help please?" came a plaintive voice from beyond Borchard.
Charlie lay on the cement behind the detective, clutching his leg.
"Charlie?" She rushed around the cop and knelt beside Charlie. His face was pale and sweaty and he was gritting his teeth. Dear Goddess, had he been shot?
"What's wrong? Are you hit?"
He still had the presence of mind to grin at her. "L
ook at you, flinging the jargon around like a gangster's moll. No, not hit. But the leg is definitely broken." He sucked a breath in through his teeth. "Damn, that hurts."
Behind her, Ellie heard a sort of mewling sound. Muriel had dropped to her knees and was crying.
"It's not fair," she moaned. "She was so cruel. She should be the one punished, not me."
The air around Ellie grew chilly again and she was aware of the acerbic presence of Lacey. She had the sense that Lacey was smiling. Then, suddenly, the chill was gone. And so, she knew, was her friend - this, time, probably, hopefully, for good.
Charlie moaned again as he struggled to sit up. "You gonna call the paramedics, or just sit there and watch me writhe in pain?"
She pulled her cell phone out of her bag, but Borchard put a hand on her shoulder. "Already on it."
Ellie took off her jacket and rolled it up, placed it behind Charlie's head which rested against the cinder block wall. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
He gritted his teeth for a moment, squeezed his eyes shut. When he looked at her again, there was something different in his eyes. Anger, she thought. "Yeah, there is." He gripped her wrist in a tight grasp. "You can promise me that the next time I ask you to wait for me, you bloody-fucking wait for me!"
He let go of her wrist then and let his head fall back against her rolled up coat.
"I'm sorry, Charlie." Goddess, it galled her to say that. "You were right, I should have waited."
"Damn right. God, I thought she was going to shoot you. And she was so close..." He leveled her with a harsh gaze that quickly softened. "Hey, you called me Charlie. Twice." The grin came back. "Maybe I should break my leg more often."
She rolled her eyes, shook her head. "Don't, McCallum. Please."
He chuckled, then winced. "Well, it was nice while it lasted.”
Ellie looked over at Muriel who now sat on the stairs, hands zip-tied behind her back. Her head was bent and that lank blond hair hung in her face. She was sniffling piteously, but Ellie remained unmoved. Borchard moved to stand over her, a quietly authoritative presence deterring her from rising, although she didn't look as though she were moved to do so anyway. Ellie shot the cop a grateful smile. "Thanks, Detective. I guess you’re not all bad."
To his credit, he didn’t take offense, but smiled instead. "Not all of us. Although I don’t blame you for thinking it. Still, don't thank me, thank him. He broke every traffic law and probably some laws of physics to get here when we did." The cop gave a dry chuckle. "Never letting you drive my car again, that's for sure."
Ellie swallowed fear and pride and gave Charlie's hand a squeeze. It felt cold and clammy in hers. "I guess I have to thank you again."
He looked at her, squeezed her hand back. "It's all part of the service, Glenda. Wait'll you get my bill."
She watched his eyes close and found herself shaking, from relief and fear all at the same time. She felt as shocky as Charlie. The sound of sirens and then of heavy cop shoes pounding up the stairs were, for once, the most comforting sounds she'd ever heard. She gave Charlie's hand another squeeze then dropped it and stood. She'd meet them on her feet, strong and calm. She'd see Lacey get her justice, no matter what. And she'd do it with her head held high, not the incoherent, bloody, sobbing mess she'd been with her parents.
From below her, she sensed Charlie grinning at her. "Go get 'em, Tiger."
Ignoring him, she faced the stairs as the first of the uniforms appeared on the landing below, bracing herself for the hours of questioning that lay ahead. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 47
"Badinage." Charlie laid out the Scrabble tiles with a smug smile. That's 12 points, but it's a triple word score so that makes it 36."
Bill Gruetzmacher tossed a tile onto the table and blew out a breath. "Is that even an English word?"
Per chuckled. "Yes, Bill, it's an English word, although its origin is French."
Bill took a swig of his Toll’s Gold Lager, an ale from a local brewery, and scowled.
The three men sat at Per's kitchen table, while Ellie sat in the rocking chair by the fire. It was early December and for reasons known only to himself, Charlie had rented a room in Per’s cabin the week after Ellie returned, claiming he needed the fresh country air to recuperate from his leg fracture. The three men had become fast friends, much to Ellie’s chagrin. Or at least, her public chagrin. In truth, she was beginning to like having him around, although she would never admit that to anyone else. Certainly not Kate.
While the boys played, she read. At the moment, it was On the Road by Jack Kerouac. Erik the Red lay next to her, his head resting on her feet, keeping them cozy warm. Outside, the darkness was complete, even though it was only 4:30 in the afternoon, and a heavy snow had started to fall about an hour before. Despite that, the men would not quit their game until someone was a clear winner. Ellie rolled her eyes. Men.
Bill was examining the board. "Badinage. What the hell does that even mean? Can you use it in a sentence?"
Charlie grinned. "Badinage. Ellie and I frequently engage in bouts of badinage in order to establish who is dominant in our nascent relationship."
Per hooted in laughter while Bill just shook his head.
Ellie glared at Charlie. "We do not have a relationship, nascent or otherwise, McCallum."
"That's not what Kate says, Glenda."
"Well, Kate is mistaken. She must be having flashbacks from all that acid she dropped in college."
At this, Charlie glanced over at her, his grin fading. "Kate never did acid."
Ellie raised her eyebrows at him. "Maybe you don't know her as well as you think you do, hotshot."
Per leaned towards Bill. “That is an example of badinage, Chief.”
Bill just shook his head.
Charlie stared at Ellie for a long moment, then shook his head. Stretching his leg with its heavy cast out to the side he leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "No. Kate would never do LSD." He dismissed her comment and looked back at his fellow Scrabble players. "I think that puts me well ahead of both of you. Care to call it a game?"
Bill scowled. “No way, McCallum. I’ve got good tiles left to use. We play on.”
Charlie shrugged. “Okay. But I’m staying here for the night. You’re the one who has to drive all the way back into town. In the dark. In the snow.”
“I have a 4x4. With spotlights.”
Per grinned. “Very well then. Chief, I believe it’s your turn.”
Ellie stood and strolled over to the table. With a swift move, she picked up both sides of the board and folded it, dumping the played letters into the box. “The game is over. Chief, you promised to drive me home.”
The three men stared at her. Gruetzmacher stood. “Now wait just a minute, young lady. Who won?”
Ignoring him, she turned and walked over to the hooks by the front door, began putting on her outer gear. She’d won, she thought smiling. Won on so many levels. It made her sad to think that Lacey would never know this kind of victory, but Lacey had made her choices, just as Ellie had made hers. Clearly some had been better choices than others.
“Bill? You coming?” She cast a look back at the grumbling men, caught Charlie watching her. His smile was soft and warm and when he saw her looking, he winked at her.
With a grin, she winked back, and with a whistle for Erik the Red, headed out into the snow.
About the Author
Nan Sampson has been writing stories since she was old enough to hold a crayon. She writes primarily mysteries, fantasy and space opera – sometimes all at once. She also gardens (and indeed, some of the plants actually grow!), foists herbal concoctions off on friends and co-workers, reads voraciously, and dreams of one day living on a space station, where she will use her education in Anthropology, Linguistics and Psychology to build trust with the alien life forms mankind will one day encounter.
Until that happens, she makes her home northwest of Chicago with her
husband, teenage daughter, and Lord Admiral Horatio Nelson (aka, the very pushy poodle).
For more info, or to read her blog, visit
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Twitter: @nansampson
COMING SOON!
Don’t miss the next Ellie Gooden mystery, Forest Outings, coming soon!
