Too Rich and Too Dead

by Cynthia Baxter

  Mallory was wishing she could climb into the file drawer and hide when he glanced in her direction. “You, too.” With a smirk, he added, “That'll teach you not to go around digging up old friends from your past.”

  “I understand that you feel you have no choice but to kill us, Brett,” Harriet said matter-of-factly. “But surely you're not going to do it here.”

  “Why not?” Brett demanded gruffly.

  “Because you'd get blood and all kinds of other stuff all over the company's financial records, which you'll need once you're the owner,” she explained. Glancing at Mallory slyly, she added, “you're much too smart for that.”

  “Ri-i-ight,” he agreed uncertainly.

  Mallory stared back at Harriet, trying to telepathically communicate, You have a gun! Use it!

  But Harriet wasn't showing any signs of fighting back. Mallory wasn't sure what she was up to, but she suspected that someone as clever as Harriet had to have something up her sleeve. And whatever it was, it was probably related to the gun that, at least for the moment, was stashed away in her pocket.

  So when Harriet suggested, “The hot tub, Brett. that's a much better place,” Mallory chimed in, “But Harriet, that way Brett can clean off all his fingerprints!”

  “Quiet!” he cried. But she could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. “Okay, you two. Into the Hydro-Salon.”

  “that's what we call the hot tub,” Harriet noted.

  “I told you to be quiet!” Brett repeated. To emphasize his point, he jabbed his gun into Harriet's ribs. “Now start walking!”

  Hanging her head meekly, Harriet stepped into the hallway. Mallory shuffled after her, aware that Brett was following close behind. She suspected he was still gripping his gun, but at least he resisted the urge to poke her with it.

  Harriet led the way along the hallway, making the turn that led the threesome to the back wall of the spa building. For a fleeting moment, Mallory hoped the fact that it was made entirely of glass would make them visible enough that someone, anyone, would notice what was going on and call the police. But then she remembered that Tavaci Springs was located in the middle of nowhere.

  Her stomach lurched when she spotted the sunken hot tub surrounded on three sides by mountain views. The first time she'd seen it, she thought this unbelievably scenic setting was the height of luxury. Now, she nearly sobbed over the likelihood that here in this breathtaking spot she was about to meet a fate that was horribly similar to that of her high school acquaintance.

  “Stand over there, right in front of the hot tub,” Brett barked, gesturing with his gun.

  Dutifully Mallory headed in that direction, taking baby steps. Harriet scuffed along behind her.

  “Brett,” Mallory asked, trying to buy herself some time as she turned to face him, “I can't help asking you why you killed Carly. Even if you didn't care about her, she was responsible for the fabulous lifestyle you've been enjoying.”

  “The only reason you're saying that is because you have no idea how uncertain our financial future was,” he grumbled. “The woman had such a huge ego that it completely got in the way of whatever minuscule amount of business sense she happened to possess.”

  “What do you mean?” Mallory asked. “I didn't really know her as an adult, of course, but from what I could see she'd done really well.”

  “Hmph! Except that she was too stupid to recognize a good thing when she saw it. A reliable thing—one that would have set us up for the rest of our lives.”

  “What was that?” Quickly Mallory added, “You might as well tell me. You have nothing to lose at this point.”

  “HoliHealth, that's what!” he replied angrily. “They were dying to buy Rejuva-Juice—but that idiot had no intention of selling, even though it would have made us multimillionaires.” With a contemptuous snort, he added, “She saw the stupid company she created as her baby and she intended to hold onto it. In fact, we had a big fight about exactly that, right before I decided I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands.”

  “You mean that night Carly gave her talk at the Wheeler Opera House?” Mallory asked without thinking.

  “Yeah, that's right.” A look of surprise crossed Brett's face. “How did you know?”

  “I overheard you two arguing,” she admitted. “I was on my way to the dressing room to wish Carly luck. When I heard what was going on, I backed off and went back to my seat.”

  “that's when I decided to kill her.” Brett sounded almost proud. “After all, I knew I'd inherit everything. And the first thing I intended to do as soon as the funeral was over was sell Rejuva-Juice to that pushy woman from HoliHealth.”

  “But I thought you planned on running the company yourself!” Mallory protested. “that's what you told me in that store.”

  “I lied,” he sneered. “I didn't want people to know how anxious I was to get rid of that stupid business. I thought admitting that would give me too obvious a reason for killing Carly.

  “But selling the company is what all this was about,” he continued angrily. “Unloading it on HoliHealth for a nice chunk of change would have put me on Easy Street for the rest of my life. Why would I want to worry about the ups and downs of running a company? Frankly, I can think of much better ways of spending the rest of my life.”

  As if you'd know what running a business demands, Mallory couldn't help thinking. It sounds as if the most challenging thing you ever did was sharpen a few pencils. That, and spend the profits as fast as they came in.

  “I knew exactly what I was going to do,” Brett went on. “The first step was getting her estate settled. I knew that wouldn't take too long, since it was all spelled out in her will. Then I was going to move Astrid into that flashy house Carly built for us. Next I was going to buy myself a Ferrari. The Rolls is great, but I need a car that really tells people who I am. After that, I was going to get myself a serious yacht, along with a nice little weekend place somewhere in the Caribbean where I could keep it.” Scowling, he added, “At least, that was the plan. Everything changed as soon as I was served by that barracuda first thing this morning.”

  “I believe he's referring to Micky Mitchell,” Harriet muttered, casting Mallory a meaningful look. “The process server I mentioned.”

  “Damn right,” Brett agreed. “As soon as I looked through those papers and saw what they were about, I knew my work wasn't done.” Glowering at Harriet, he added, “If some jury realized that it was you and not Carly who invented Rejuva-Juice, it would take them about two seconds to sign away the entire company to you. Even if they just awarded you a piece of the action—meaning you and I had to make decisions together—I knew it wouldn't work.” His lips curled into a sneer as he added, “You probably don't know this about me, but I've never been very good at sharing.”

  I bet it even says that on your kindergarten report card, Mallory thought ruefully.

  Suddenly a lightbulb went on in her head.

  “That phone call for Sylvie, the morning after Carly was killed,” she said. “What was that all about? Who was calling her?”

  “HoliHealth, of course.” Brett's lips stretched into a sneer, revealing two rows of gleaming, perfect teeth. An image of the Big Bad Wolf popped into Mallory's head. “They called to tell her to up the bid. When they heard Carly was gone and that she wouldn't be screwing them around anymore, they figured it was finally time to get what they wanted. They told Sylvie to sweeten the deal even more in the hopes that whoever stood to inherit Carly's company—that would be me—would bite. And it would have worked—at least if the company had simply passed to me, without Harriet mucking things up.

  “What all this means is that I have no choice but to get both of you out of my way, just like Carly,” Brett continued bitterly. Turning to Mallory, he added, “I was about to head over to Harriet's when Juanita mentioned that you'd just come by the house to get her address. She told me everything you'd said. All those questions you asked, the fact that you were so interes
ted in Carly's murder… Of course, I'd already been keeping an eye on you. I couldn't help being suspicious about the fact that all of a sudden, when Carly was at the peak of her success, you were suddenly anxious to be her friend again. I had a feeling you were up to no good. There had to be something you wanted from her.”

  How about an acknowledgment that even though I never made the cheerleading squad at JFK High, I'm still a valuable person? Mallory thought morosely.

  “Then I noticed you were running around town questioning everybody who knew Carly. Even that lowlife drug dealer.”

  Mallory's eyebrows shot up. So Brett had known! And from the way he sounded, he hadn't cared. In fact, as long as Carly kept the money coming in, he didn't appear to give a hoot about what she did.

  “The fact that you seemed just a little too interested in figuring out who killed Carly made me realize it might not be such a bad idea to keep you from getting in my hair, too,” Brett continued. “I thought the most efficient way to get rid of you was by running you off the road. But it turned out you're a pretty decent driver. Especially for somebody who lives in a place that's completely flat.

  “Anyway, when that didn't work, I knew I had to try something else. I was still trying to figure out what to do when Juanita's compulsive nosiness actually turned out to be a good thing. When I found out the two of you were going to be together, I rushed off to Harriet's, figuring I'd be able to kill two birds with one stone. But no sooner did I pull into her street than I saw that cheap rental car of yours take off. Not long afterward, Harriet followed.” He shrugged. “Same plan, different place. I'm flexible that way.”

  Juanita and her big mouth, Mallory thought angrily. If it wasn't for all the information blabbed by a woman who claims she doesn't say anything, none of us would be here right now.

  “When I saw that you'd both come up to the spa and realized that nobody else was here,” Brett went on breezily, “I knew I'd just stumbled upon the perfect opportunity. It'll be a piece of cake to get rid of you both and then get on a plane before either of you have even been missed. You know, Europe has some seaside towns that are much nicer than anything you'd find in the Caribbean. Monaco, Nice, the Costa del Sol… And skipping the country will be no problem. Thanks to Astrid's willingness to lie in order to give me an alibi, I'm not even on the cops’ list of suspects.”

  With a smirk, he added, “And they say there's no such thing as the perfect crime.”

  Brett took a step closer, still holding the gun on Harriet. Mallory's head buzzed as she realized he was on the verge of putting the finishing touches on what he considered “the perfect crime”—“finishing” as in finishing them both off. She knew she had to do something, and she had to do it fast.

  “Oh, my God! Look out behind you!” she screamed at Brett, pointing at some vague spot beyond where he was standing.

  Instinctively he turned. She took advantage of the split second he was off guard by stepping forward and striking his arm as hard as she could.

  It turned out to be hard enough that he let go of the gun. In fact, he jerked his arm with such force that he flung it in the direction of the hot tub.

  “Hey! What do you think you're—?”

  He lurched toward the edge of the tub just in time to join Mallory in watching the gun drop to the bottom of the tub of water.

  “What the—!” he growled.

  For a fleeting moment, a look of such fury crossed his face that Mallory winced, expecting him to strike her. Instead, he leaned over the edge of the hot tub to retrieve his weapon. Mallory started to dash away, but not before seeing the muscles of his face tighten as he looked down and realized that the tub was just deep enough that he would have to climb inside to reach the bottom.

  Mallory had gotten less than ten feet away when she noticed that Harriet had taken full advantage of the few seconds in which Brett was distracted. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her gun, then pointed it directly at Brett.

  “Maybe It's not such a perfect crime after all,” Harriet announced, her eyes flashing with fury. “Especially since Mallory is going to dial nine-one-one on her cell phone and It'll take the police about fifteen minutes to get up here and arrest you. That is, if you're smart enough not to do anything that gives me a reason to use this thing.”

  “You don't have the guts to shoot me,” Brett sneered.

  Harriet had barely had a chance to open her mouth to reply when he stepped to one side, clearly intending to flee. But water from the hot tub must have splashed onto the floor, because his foot instantly slipped across the smooth tile, causing him to lose his balance. Quickly he grabbed onto a tall display case to steady himself. But instead of holding him up, the force with which he grasped the glass shelving was enough to send a hundred glass bottles of shampoos, lotions, and soaps flying off the shelves, crashing to the ground and sending rivulets of thick liquids oozing across the floor.

  He ended up sprawled on his back anyway, still clinging to a shelf that at this point was nothing more than a large glass shard. He lay with his arms and legs flailing, bug-style, splattered with magic potions that emitted a peculiar mixture of fragrances. Mallory was able to identify honeysuckle, orange, and cinnamon.

  Harriet stepped closer, still gripping the gun. As she held it to his head, she demanded coolly, “Still think I don't have enough guts, Brett? Why don't you try pulling yourself up from the slime to attack me and we'll both find out? Huh? Go ahead, try it!”

  In response to her goading, a look of intense rage crossed his face, making his eyes gleam like those of some evil character in a horror flick. But he seemed to realize quickly that the mousy accountant was turning out to be a lot more of a tiger than he ever would have anticipated, since instead of fighting back, he held his hands up in front of his face.

  “don't shoot me!” he begged. “Please, Harriet! All those years we worked together, I never did a thing to hurt you, did I? I thought we were friends. We were practically family!”

  “Mallory,” Harriet barked without taking her eyes off the giant cockroach splayed in front of her, “hurry up and call the police, will you?”

  Mallory didn't bother to reply. She was too busy dialing 911.

  “The way you handled yourself in there was amazing,” Mallory said admiringly as she followed Harriet through the front door of the Hotel Jerome.

  “I even surprised myself,” Harriet admitted. “I had no idea I'd turn out to be a gun-toting mama.” Glancing over her shoulder and grinning at Mallory shyly, she added, “Maybe It's a sign that I've been in the West too long.”

  Mallory was about to ask Harriet if she had any idea where else she might like to live—and what she might like to do once she got there—when she stopped in her tracks.

  When she'd invited Harriet to come back to the Jerome to recover from all the excitement of not only fingering Carly's murderer but also handing him over to the police, she'd envisioned nothing more than a soothing cup of tea. She certainly hadn't expected a crowd of reporters to lunge at her from across the lobby the moment she walked inside. Some carried notebooks, some brandished cameras, and a few balanced gigantic video cameras on their shoulders.

  “Did some movie star just check in?” she wondered out loud.

  She'd barely had a chance to remind herself that this was Aspen, where movie stars were as common as snowflakes, when one of the bellmen rushed over to her.

  “Sorry about all this, Ms. Marlowe!” he exclaimed. She immediately recognized him as the young man who'd helped out during her silk scarf ruse, which she'd used to locate Sylvie's room. “We usually ensure our guests’ privacy here at the Jerome. But this story is just too big.”

  “How did you know Brett Berman was the killer?” one reporter cried out as he headed in Mallory and Harriet's direction with frightening determination.

  “How did you catch him?” another demanded.

  “Ms. Vogel, what are you going to now?” a third asked. “I understand that you've initiated a lawsuit
against the Bermans, and that you're the actual creator of Rejuva-Juice. What are you going to do if you gain ownership of the company?”

  Goodness, they know a lot, Mallory marveled. Somebody must have been talking to Juanita.

  Before either she or Harriet had a chance to formulate answers to any of the reporters’ questions, the bellman whispered, “In here!”

  She glanced over and saw that he was gesturing toward a small side parlor that was closed off from the main lobby by tall potted plants. She wasted no time in dashing in that direction. Harriet was right behind her.

  But instead of finding respite, she immediately saw that she'd been catapulted out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  “Gordon?” she cried. “Trevor? What are you doing here?”

  The two men sat side by side on a red velvet couch with ridiculously ornate legs, looking about as comfortable as two cowpokes who'd just come into town for the very first time.

  “Waiting for you, of course,” Trevor replied anxiously, rising to his feet. “I wanted to see for myself that you were safe. Good God, Mallory, what happened at that spa today?”

  She glanced at Harriet ruefully. “Let's just say that Harriet and I have turned out to be the Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid of the twenty-first century.”

  “Sounds more like Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday,” Trevor insisted. “But at least you both got out of there without being hurt.”

  “I would never have managed without Harriet.” Turning to her, Mallory said, “What happens now? What are you going to do once you own Rejuva-Juice?”

  Harriet smiled shyly. “Actually, I've been doing quite a lot of thinking about that very topic. Now that the truth about Brett has come out, I'm more confident than ever that I'll manage to gain control of the company. And I'd bet the secret recipe for R ejuva-Juice that I can do a better job of running it than Carly ever did.

  “The only thing I'm missing of course, is a spokesperson, one who's as attractive and charismatic as Carly was. But I think I've come up with someone.”