by Amy Vansant
“She’s over here,” she said.
She moved into the living room with the others in tow. As Stephanie cleared the sofa, she gasped.
“She’s gone!”
Charlotte rounded the sofa and saw nothing but a broken tumbler on the floor.
“Avoid the glass on the floor,” said Stephanie, holding out her arm to keep Charlotte from getting too close. “She tried to poison me. I saw her drop powder into the glass. I distracted her and switched the glasses.”
“That’s so Princess Bride,” said Charlotte. She felt a twinge of jealousy that Stephanie had done something so cool.
“And she drank it?” asked Declan.
“Yes! She collapsed here. I thought she was dead. That’s when I came to help you.”
Stephanie stepped over the glass and peered out the front door. “Her car is gone.”
Charlotte heard a familiar ring and realized her phone was on the sofa. She reached over and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“I think you butt dialed me,” said Mariska. “I’m just calling you back.”
“I did. Sort of. Sorry. I have to go. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”
Charlotte hung up and followed the others outside. She spotted something on the cement and trotted down the stairs to investigate. It was a small, clear vial. She dropped to her knees to read the marks on it.
“It says amyl nitrate,” she called up to the porch.
“That’s part of a cyanide antidote kit,” said Seamus.
Declan looked at him. “How would you know that?”
“Long story.”
“She had an antidote kit?” said Stephanie.
“If she had the cyanide in the first place to poison you, it makes sense she’d have an antidote kit, too,” said Charlotte as she made her way back to the porch.
Stephanie nodded. “Right. Right. That makes sense.”
“She’s on the run now,” said Seamus. “That should keep her mind off killing you for a while.”
Stephanie nodded.
“What did she say to you?” asked Charlotte.
Stephanie held her gaze for several seconds.
“Stephanie?”
“Nothing.” Her clenched jaw relaxed and she offered a tiny smile. “Nothing I didn’t already know.”
Chapter Thirty
Jamie opened her storage locker. Her passports. Her driver’s licenses. Her gun. All the things she’d squirrelled away in the event she needed to disappear in a hurry.
She still felt sick. She closed the door behind her and leaned against the wall, breathing slowly and deliberately to avoid vomiting. Stephanie’s dosage had been light or she never would have made it to the emergency kit in her car. She’d played a little possum in the house. Nice of Declan and the blonde to steal her daughter’s attention long enough for her to scurry away.
Her own daughter had tried to kill her.
Her daughter was just like her.
A protégée!
She smiled.
And to have a lawyer in the family; that was handy.
Of course, at the moment, it didn’t seem that Stephanie was leaping at the chance to represent her but that would change. Would change. She just needed to win the girl over. Sure, Stephanie seemed mad now, but she was a broken girl with deep abandonment issues. She couldn’t resist Mommy forever.
She was disappointed in herself that she hadn’t sensed Stephanie’s leanings, though. She’d been too occupied with her own ambivalence towards the girl; her own feelings...or lack thereof. A tiny part of her had wondered—worried, really—that when she met Stephanie as an adult she’d feel something for the girl. After all, how was she supposed to really appreciate her as a baby? As a screaming, poop machine?
But she didn’t feel anything. Maybe a tiny sense of pride that she was so pretty. Other than that, Stephanie was a stranger to her like any other; useful until she wasn’t. An alien like everyone else.
It had been nice to admit to her daughter that she was the Puzzle Killer. It’d been a surprise to find her daughter so accepting. Far from horrified, Stephanie seemed fascinated by the information. At the time she chalked it up to her innate sense of attorney-client privilege.
Looking back, it should have been her first clue.
Jamie flipped on the storage unit light and gathered what she needed to escape. She hummed. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so...light.
Motherhood had been an interesting experiment, though failed. But now, a payoff! A kindred spirit. She’d never met another like herself. Killers didn’t have tradeshows and union meetings.
She’d had every intention of killing Stephanie once her usefulness had passed. She couldn’t have someone out there who knew her secrets, even family. Plus, there was that sense of embarrassment. The idea that she had produced an unremarkable child. A child like any other.
But she hadn’t.
Stephanie had tried to kill her.
Jamie reached to grab a backpack from the shelf and scowled.
Peeps’ baseball was gone.
Hm. She looked around and noticed a tarp covering something three feet tall and about the same width in the back of the unit. She squinted at it.
How had she not seen that? Even behind the clutter of furniture, it should have been the first thing she noticed amiss.
I really have to get myself together.
She crawled her way over an old sofa and lifted the tarp to reveal two blue oil drums.
These are not mine.
She scanned the unit. Nothing else seemed odd. She peered around the barrels, searching for traps. A person could fit a lot of explosive in two oil drums.
Nothing.
She really didn’t have time for this nonsense. She needed to leave. But...
She unscrewed the cap of the drum on the left and was accosted by a putrid smell. She slapped the cap back on. Holding her hand over her nose, she pried at the lid until it popped off and fell to the ground beside her.
Inside, was the folded body of a large man, his arms covered in tattoos.
Jamie picked up the lid and replaced it.
The only person who knew about her storage unit was Stephanie.
She pulled out her phone and called the front office to ask if anyone had been to her unit.
“Hold on,” said the man on the line. “Gotta look up the sign-in. What day?”
“I don’t know exactly. In the last week?”
“Nope.”
“Well that’s a lie. Someone’s been in here!”
“Would you like to file a complaint?” His tone told her how much he cared.
Jamie sighed.
The interloper had to have been Stephanie, pinning her bodies on the Puzzle Killer.
Brilliant.
She liked this kid more and more.
“Mam?”
“No. I’m mistaken. Nevermind.”
Jamie hung up. She felt as though she should ream the man for letting someone sneak into her unit, but she didn’t have the time. And she was too darn happy.
She also didn’t want the deskman stopping by her unit. She had to leave. No time to dump the bodies.
“You win this one, daughter,” she said.
She couldn’t stop smiling.
Chapter Thirty-One
Charlotte, Mariska and Darla sat in Darla’s kitchen sipping coffee. It had been two days since Stephanie’s mother, a.k.a. Jamie Moriarty, a.k.a. Simone, a.k.a. the Puzzle Killer, had disappeared.
Frank walked in to enjoy his pre-lunch lunch.
“Have you heard anything new?” asked Charlotte, jumping from her seat at the sight of him.
Frank grabbed a muffin from a plastic tray.
“Not much. Her house was clean if you don’t count handcuffs and leather masks.” He rolled his eyes. “Nothing else useful except the conversation between her and that other killer on the computer.”
“The conversation about killing Stephanie?”
He nodded.
“Yup. Her and Alex, back and forth. His email was Alex alligator at Viagra pills dot com or something crazy.”
“But no leads on him?”
“Nah. Nothing solid. The nerds are still tearing apart the computer so maybe something will pop up.”
“Poor Stephanie,” said Mariska. “I can’t imagine discovering that my mother wanted to kill me.”
Darla shrugged. “Mine always said she wanted to kill me, but I knew she was kidding.” She tilted her head. “Pretty sure, anyway.”
“Did you see this?” Mariska asked, handing Charlotte the paper. On the cover was a photo of Stephanie, looking sad yet determined. Lawyer Nearly Captures the Puzzle Killer said the headline.
“She didn’t nearly capture her, she nearly killed her,” mumbled Charlotte, scanning the story. She was still a little bitter about Stephanie’s opportunity to Princess Bride someone. The paper told the story of Stephanie’s capture at gunpoint, the poison, and Jamie Moriarty’s escape from the police.
“Why aren’t you in that story?” asked Darla.
Charlotte shrugged. “No one asked. This story is all about Stephanie’s harrowing experience. I’m guessing she went to the press and left us out, for which I am eternally grateful.”
“Why? You were there when the Puzzle Killer was nearly captured. Wouldn’t that be good for business?”
“I was cuffed to a wall and my mentor was unconscious on the kitchen floor. I don’t think that colors us in the best light.”
“Mentor,” muttered Frank, shoving the last of the muffin in his maw. “This whole thing is just a bunch of extra paperwork for me. Gonna drive me to drink.”
“Oh! That reminds me!” said Charlotte, pulling a folded piece of yellow lined paper from her pocket. “Stephanie had some very high-end bourbon at her office. I wrote down the name of it for you.” She opened up the sheet and handed it to Frank.
He looked at it and laughed. “Pappy VanWinkle’s one of the most expensive bourbons in the world! She had it at her office?”
“Yep.”
“Hm. I might need a law consult sometime soon.” Frank tossed the sheet on the table and put on his hat. “I’ll see you ladies later.”
Frank left and Charlotte let her gaze drift to the lined legal paper. The late morning sun gleamed through the kitchen window and hit the paper at an angle that allowed her to see the indentation of past notes written on the sheets above. She recognized the one word as an email.
[email protected]
Alex.
She straightened. “Alex was talking to Jamie through the computer.”
Mariska nodded. “Frank said Alex. I remember the name because when he said it, I pictured someone emailing Alex Trebek.”
“Me too!” said Darla.
“I have to go,” said Charlotte. “Can I borrow your car?”
“Sure,” said Mariska. “We’re just going to join Carolina at the pool in a bit.”
“She went without you? Why didn’t she wait?”
“I think she’s looking for Lester,” said Darla, winking.
“Oh, she is not,” said Mariska.
“I hope not. We haven’t found out what they arrested him for yet.”
“He’s probably in jail,” said Charlotte.
“He hasn’t been around. He was lurking at Carolina’s side night and day, and now he’s nowhere to be found.”
“That’s why Carolina is pining for him,” said Darla.
“Stop that!” said Mariska. “You’ll start rumors. Anyway it’s worse than Lester. She took the cat with her. Has him on a leash and bought him a little sun cover-up and a visor.”
Charlotte shook her head and headed for the door.
Charlotte drove to Stephanie’s office. She spotted the blonde standing outside, supervising the men hanging a new sign on her building. A sign that said, Moriarty Law.
She parked and walked to Stephanie’s side.
“Nice sign.”
“Isn’t it?” said Stephanie. “I think the navy shows strength.”
“Moriarty, the villain from Sherlock Holmes and the last name of the Puzzle Killer. Are you sure that’s the image you want to go with?”
“You forget, it’s my real last name.”
“Still...”
Stephanie smiled. “I’m a criminal defense lawyer. I could call it Lex Luthor Law and it would only help.”
Charlotte nodded. “Gotcha. Could I talk to you a second? Inside?”
Stephanie looked at her. “Sure.”
They made their way inside the office.
Charlotte took the opportunity to sit in the gorgeous leather chair across from Stephanie’s desk. She found herself eye level with the credenza against the wall. There was a baseball in a glass trophy box that hadn’t been there before.
“Baseball fan?” she asked, standing again to approach it.
“Hate it.”
Charlotte leaned over to inspect the ball. There was no signature on it.
“It’s just blank?”
Stephanie stared at her. “Did you come here to inspect my baseball?”
Charlotte scowled. “No...I guess I’ll get right to the point.”
“Too late.”
“I imagine you have a press schedule to keep today.”
“I do.”
“Of course. Anyway, does the email [email protected] mean anything to you?”
Stephanie’s face remained unchanged. “Seriously? No. I haven’t used erection pills in months.”
“That address was indented on the sheet of paper I borrowed from you when I was here the other day.”
Stephanie shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you.”
“What if I told you that address was the address they pulled from your mother’s computer. It’s how she spoke with the person blackmailing her.”
“Fascinating.”
“So you can’t imagine how that address would end up on your desk?”
“I don’t think it was.”
“I just told you it was on the paper I borrowed from you.”
“Are you sure? You were in my mother’s house, after all. Maybe you picked it up there.”
“It says Pappy Van Winkle on it!”
“So?”
Charlotte sighed. “I think you know who was talking to your mother. I think you arranged their conversation.”
“Even if I did, I really can’t discuss my mother’s case.”
“I think you know who the other killer is.”
Stephanie stared at her, silent.
“Fine,” said Charlotte, folding the paper and putting it back in her pocket. She stood. “But I’m telling you now, I think you know a lot more than you’re letting on. You might even know where your mother went.”
“I wish I did. She’s trying to kill me, you know. I’m the victim here.” Stephanie walked past Charlotte and sat at her desk. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, I have a lot of work.”
Charlotte left the office and returned to her car. She sat there for a moment, staring at the new sign. The parking place beside her triggered a memory. A car. There had been a car at Stephanie’s office the last time she was here.
A client. Stephanie said there was a client in her bathroom. Maybe that client was the mysterious Alex.
She squeezed her eyes tight, but she couldn’t conjure an image of the license plate. She tapped the side of her head with her hand, trying to remember. A maroon Cadillac. Numbers...she wanted to say the license plate had a lot of numbers as oppose to letters: three, four...
Arg! She couldn’t remember. Seamus would be so disappointed.
She turned the ignition. Maybe she’d be able to remember in the shower. She remembered a lot of things in the shower. There and in bed. Maybe she could dream the license plate.
She left and pulled into Pineapple Port, rolling through the older section on her way home. She looked left as she passed Alpinia Lane and saw it.
A maroon Cadillac.
She slamme
d on the brakes and slipped the car into reverse.
That was it. She was sure of it. Same shape, same rust pattern over the back tire, and the license plate was 3462MN.
It was sitting in Lester’s driveway, like it had been there forever.
Lester was Alex?
Lester was Alex!
It made sense. Lester had only been in town a couple of months. He was renting, like he had come for a particular purpose. What had he told Carolina at the pool? That he was here on business? What business?
Charlotte scrambled for her phone and dialed Frank’s number. He answered.
“Hello?”
“Frank! Lester is Alex!”
“What?”
“Lester. Lester is the killer. Alex. The one blackmailing Stephanie’s mom.”
She heard Frank sigh. “I know.”
“You know? How do you know?”
“Because we just found him.”
“You got him? That’s great!”
“Not great for him. He’s dead.”
Charlotte gasped. “Dead?”
“Stuffed in a barrel in a storage locker, along with another fella we haven’t identified. The locker belongs to Jamie Moriarty.”
“Her name is on it?”
“Not officially. She used an alias. But they found the storage unit information at her house. Look, we’re in the middle of this mess right now. I’ll talk to you about it later, okay?”
“Okay.”
Charlotte hung up.
Lester was Alex and the Puzzle Killer had gotten to him first.
It had to be. It made sense. Stephanie had acted as the connection between her mother and Lester.
Right?
Charlotte put her car back in drive and rolled toward home.
It made sense...
...didn’t it?
Chapter Thirty-Two
“What a week,” said Charlotte. “You know, after all these murders, they found the poor landscaping guy from my neighborhood dead in his backyard? Accidentally cut his leg open with a machete and bled to death.”
“Really? That’s awful,” said Declan.
Charlotte lay on a bed in the Hock o’ Bell Pawnshop, exhausted. She’d been visiting Declan when he decided to swing back to the store and make sure Blade’s shift had gone well. She joined him.
