by Bell, Cindy
“Aunt Ida,” she hissed as she grabbed her aunt's hand. “Run!” They went into the hallway and no one was around because they were still taking photos of the guests and the staff were setting up the reception. Aunt Ida was running as fast as she could but she was teetering on those expensive high heels and cursing herself for not finding that extra half-inch in her shoe size to be that important. She felt as if her toes were going to burst in the tip of her shoes as she ran beside Vicky. Matt took a few seconds to follow because he closed down the webpage.
“Keep going, keep going,” Vicky was chanting as she steered her aunt passed a row of rolling carts in the hallway. Vicky pushed them into the way to try to block Matt who was fast approaching. But a moment later she heard the man's boots, close behind, striking the floor once more. They were headed as quickly as they could for the kitchen.
“Stop!” he bellowed after them. “Stop where you are!”
Vicky took a sharp breath, knowing that the man was armed. All of the security guards were carrying weapons and she knew for a fact that they were loaded.
“Don't slow down,” Vicky pleaded with her aunt as she practically dragged her around the corner of the hallway. What if they shouted for help and Matt opened fire? Who knew how many innocent bystanders he would shoot. No, they just needed to get somewhere safe, that was the main goal in Vicky's mind. They had to get somewhere that they could block him out. When they ran towards the kitchen and she saw the door to the wine cellar standing half open, she knew that it was the perfect place. She pulled her aunt towards the cellar door. The wine cellar was the best option. As soon as they stepped through the door, Vicky tried to shove it closed and lock it behind her. Aunt Ida stumbled down the stairs, hanging onto the railing as she did. As Vicky was just about to lock the door, the full force of the massive security guard slammed against it.
“Open the door!” he shouted. Vicky struggled to shove back, but she was no match for his size or strength, and she found her feet sliding back across the top step of the wooden stairs that led down into the wine cellar. He forced the door all the way open, causing Vicky to stumble on the steps. She slid down them and landed hard on her back. The cement floor was harsh along her spine and she groaned in pain. As she forced herself to open her eyes and look up the stairs she met the barrel of a gun which was being pointed directly down at her. Matt had shut and locked the door behind him, and was standing two steps above her with the weapon promising to solve the problem within a split second.
“No, don't,” Ida demanded as she came to Vicky's side.
“Stay back,” Vicky shouted to her aunt, as she struggled not to move a muscle.
“Shut up, both of you,” the bodyguard barked and released the safety catch on his weapon. “It seems we have a little problem.”
“It doesn't have to be a problem,” Vicky assured him, ignoring his command for silence. Her back was screaming in pain from striking the floor but she tried to remain still. “Look, you killed the photographer in a fit of rage,” Vicky explained to him calmly. “He was trying to ruin your life, again. It's okay, a jury will understand that,” she assured him. “But coldly gunning down two innocent women in a basement, that's not something they'll forgive,” Vicky insisted, glaring at him. “So, just let us go,” she pleaded as she looked up at the man. “Let us go, and we'll settle all of this.”
“Or,” the bodyguard laughed as if he had been entertained by her entire speech. “I’ll just take you out to that nice big lake that's only a few miles away, and dump your bodies. No bodies, no crime, and no one to stick their noses into my business!” he announced and descended the last two steps.
Aunt Ida stood her ground. Vicky shifted on the floor in pain.
“You see,” he murmured as he looked from Vicky to Ida, and then back to Vicky again. “I've been in this line of work a long time. I know how to make people just disappear. So the two of you, well, you'll be missed. But I doubt they'll look too hard. No children, no husbands.” he chuckled at that and cast a light wink in their direction.
“You're a terrible man,” Aunt Ida abruptly announced as she stared up at him. She had never seen someone so vicious before.
“Maybe,” he shrugged and offered a mild sigh. “But maybe that's because I've seen where being a good person gets you, darling. It gets you accused of things you never did. It gets you bankruptcy, a lost house, a lost career. I never had anything to do with those pictures. Not with Charlotte and not with Trinie. It was all Graham and he made millions off the sale of the photographs. When he told me he had some of Trinie I just snapped. I got so angry that I just wanted it to stop, the invasion of privacy, the harassment. I wanted him to experience the consequences of his actions. So, that's where being a good person gets you. It gets you locked in a wine cellar, counting down the minutes to when I will come back for you.”
“Give me your phones,” he demanded. Vicky and Aunt Ida reluctantly handed over their cell phones with trembling hands.
With that he backed up the stairs, keeping the gun trained on the two of them.
“You make a move on me, I'll shoot you both right now,” he warned them. Then he rested his hand on the locked door. “At least this way, you'll have the chance to say your goodbyes.”
Vicky reached out to gently grasp her aunt’s hand. She wanted to attack the man, but she knew that whatever she could do would be no match for the weapon he held. As he closed the door behind him, she heard the bolt slide into place on the outside of the door. She sighed and closed her eyes as she felt Aunt Ida's arms encircle her.
“Don't you worry, Vicky,” she whispered to her. “We've been in much tougher spots than this before, haven't we?”
Vicky nodded a little, but she was not convinced. She felt as if they were stuck with no way out. The two sat there for a few moments, savoring each other's comfort, before Ida bravely spoke up.
“Well, we're not going to escape by snuggling,” she said flatly and stood up from the floor. Vicky stood up too, wincing from the pain in her back, and they began to inspect their surroundings. Though Vicky had been in the wine cellar plenty of times before, she had never looked at it quite in this way. She had never needed to find an escape from it before. Aunt Ida cautiously climbed the stairs to test the door.
“Oh dear, we're not getting out of here,” Vicky announced after Aunt Ida rattled the knob a few times. The lock was solid and there was no chance of getting it open.
“Don’t be ridiculous Vicky, I can take him down, we’ll get out of here,” Aunt Ida announced with confidence.
“Maybe we can find something to pry it open,” Vicky said as she glanced around the cellar. Unfortunately, all she saw were racks and racks of wine bottles.
Ida slowly walked back down the small set of wooden steps to reach the cement floor. “What do you think he will do when he comes back? If we have an idea we can be prepared.”
Vicky sighed as she glanced up at the ceiling. She wondered if she could make enough noise banging on it to get someone's attention. But with all the wedding festivities she doubted anyone would hear it.
“I agree. I think,” Vicky said slowly as she looked back at her aunt, “that we need to be ready for him when he comes back.” She frowned as she crouched down and peered at the ribbon of light that was pouring in from beneath the door. She knew that would be their only warning, when his large boots blocked the light. Then they would know that he had returned.
“How?” Ida began to walk the length of the cellar thinking of what she could use.
“We just have to use being stuck in this cellar to our advantage,” Vicky said sternly. She didn’t want to die in the cellar. She kept Mitchell in the forefront of her mind. There was too much yet unspoken for it all to end this way.
With renewed determination Vicky looked around at the wine that surrounded them. It was just about the only thing they had in the cellar to use in their defense. She picked up a wine bottle and gave it a swift test swing. She could swing it hard, but would it be hard en
ough? She looked up the stairs and realized that when he opened the door he would be able to see her coming. There was nowhere to hide behind the door and jump out behind him as the steps lead right up to the door. She grimaced and was just about to lay the bottle of wine back on the shelf, when she struck her hand on the wooden corner of it. Her hand jerked and the bottle slipped from her fingers.
The bottle splattered against the floor. Drops of wine and tiny shreds of glass spread across the cellar in all directions. The bulk of the wine spilled right at the base of the stairs.
“Vicky, are you okay?” Ida asked and started to rush to her side.
“Wait, Aunt Ida,” Vicky called out sharply. “Be careful or you'll slip!”
Aunt Ida stopped before the puddle and her eyes met Vicky’s as they both realized a solution to their problem.
“That's it!” Vicky announced, her eyes widening with excitement. “We just have to make a puddle for him to slip in! If we can get him down, then we can surely keep him down!”
Ida was smiling at her niece's words, as if she had had the same idea.
“Sounds like a great plan to me,” she agreed.
“Well, it's the only one we have,” Vicky pointed out and winced as she felt a bolt of pain run through her arm. She looked down at her left forearm to discover a small gash. One of the pieces of glass must have cut her as it sprung upward from the floor.
“Vicky, you're bleeding,” Ida said with concern and carefully stepped across the puddle of wine. She looked closely at the wound on Vicky's arm.
“It's okay,” Vicky assured her. “It's just a little cut.”
“Hmm, and the grand canyon is just a little ditch,” Aunt Ida murmured. Then she untangled the long lavender scarf she had tied around her hair. “Here,” she said as she began to wind it around Vicky's arm.
“But Aunt Ida you love that scarf,” Vicky pointed out and started to draw her arm back.
“Silly girl,” Ida chuckled and gripped Vicky’s wrist firmly, so that she could hold her arm still as she wrapped the scarf around it. “I don't love things, I love people, namely yourself and your sister and her family. Nothing else has any real value,” she smiled with pride as she wrapped the scarf tightly to help stop the flow of blood. Vicky stared at her with admiration. It had been troubling her to think that Aunt Ida might have given up so much in order to step in and help care for her nieces. In that moment she saw the truth in her aunt's eyes. Being there for them had never been a burden. Vicky sighed with relief and picked up a bottle of wine.
“Well, if we're going to spill some, we might as well drink some,” she suggested and snatched two wine glasses from where they were placed on a low shelf hanging from the ceiling. She handed one to her aunt and poured a glass for herself as well.
“To family,” Aunt Ida said as she held up her glass of wine.
“To overcoming adversity,” Vicky said with a wink as they clinked their glasses together. The two downed their wine rather quickly, as if they were having a little bit of a race. Ida won, and set her glass down on the floor beside her.
“About that adversity,” Ida pointed her finger towards the door. “I have a feeling it's not going to be long before he comes back.”
“I think you're right,” Vicky nodded, her head swimming a little from guzzling her wine. “He's probably going to use the noise of the party as cover, so we'll need to make sure that we're ready for him.”
The two women began opening and pouring bottles of wine all over the floor. As the crimson liquid splashed against the cement Vicky could only hope that this would work.
Chapter Eight
It wasn't long before the boots on the other side of the door fell heavily against the wooden floor.
“This is it,” Vicky told her aunt as she motioned for the woman to hide behind one of the shelves of wine. “I'm going to distract him the best I can,” she whispered to Aunt Ida. “You be ready with a bottle of wine, just in case, okay?”
“Here we go!” Aunt Ida nodded and grabbed one of the biggest bottles of wine she could find. She crouched behind the shelf as they heard the door slowly open. In the same moment that the door swung open, Vicky swung a bottle of wine up at the light bulb, breaking it, and plunging the cellar into almost complete darkness. She knew it was a risk, as it would make it harder to attack him, but it would also reduce the chance of him seeing the puddle of wine.
“What was that?” he snarled, pushing the door and only partially closing it behind him. He whipped out a small penlight that was attached to his belt along with his weapon and a club.
Vicky cringed inwardly as she hadn’t thought about the flashlight. Luckily, he flicked it around the wine cellar shelves and not the floor.
“Ow, I'm hurt,” Vicky called out. “Oh please help me,” she whined from the bottom of the stairs. Just as she had hoped, he moved swiftly down the stairs, so swiftly that when he set his heavy boot in the puddle of wine it slipped right up out from under him and his entire body flew up into the air. His head came down first, cracking on the bottom step.
Vicky jumped up at the same moment that Aunt Ida rounded the side of the shelf. Aunt Ida had her bottle of wine poised and ready to go and so did Vicky. But as they stood over the large man, they discovered that he was not moving. The light from the still open doorway of the cellar revealed that his eyes were closed.
“He must have been knocked out by the fall,” Vicky murmured cautiously. She still hesitated to move too close.
“The big ones always fall the hardest,” Aunt Ida said as she looked down at the man.
“Help!” Vicky shouted up the stairs to the open door. She didn't want to risk climbing over the man. “Help us!” she shrieked.
“Please, let me,” Aunt Ida cleared her throat. The scream that poured from between the woman's perfectly painted lips was akin to the most professionally trained opera singer. Vicky had to reach up to cover her ears in an attempt to block it out. As she closed her eyes and ducked her head, she almost overlooked the man stirring on the floor before them. As soon as the movement registered in her mind Vicky's eyes sprung back open. The man was starting to sit up.
“Aunt Ida?” she heard Sarah calling from the kitchen. “Aunt Ida is that you?”
“Aunt Ida, he’s awake!” Vicky declared as the bodyguard reached for his weapon and began to draw it. Aunt Ida and Vicky each slammed the bottle of wine in their hands down hard against the side of his head. They aimed for the temple. The crack of glass against skin, and then the burst of the bottles shattering, drowned out Mitchell's calls from the top of the stairs. When Vicky and Aunt Ida looked up at him he had his gun drawn and was staring at them in amazement as the large man slumped back down to the floor.
“Get back,” he shouted at them and hurried down the steps.
“Be careful!” Vicky cried out, as she didn't want him to slip. Vicky and Aunt Ida stepped back a few paces as Mitchell disarmed the bodyguard.
Sarah was standing at the top of the stairs, one hand covering her mouth, her eyes spread wide. “Are you okay?” she called out to them. Mitchell was on his radio calling for medics as well as back up and reporting the crime that had taken place.
“Sure, want some wine?” Aunt Ida offered as she held up a bottle of wine.
“No,” Sarah said incredulously as she stared down at her sister and her aunt and slowly shook her head. “How do the two of you get into these messes?”
Vicky smiled happily at her aunt, who only shrugged innocently.
“Just lucky I guess,” Aunt Ida smiled. Vicky could not believe how calm she looked. She reached out her hand and felt her silky skin settle against her palm. Mitchell slid the knocked-out man away from the stairs so that they could go up to Sarah. When Sarah saw the blood leaking through the scarf tied around Vicky's arm, she gasped.
“Oh no, you're hurt,” she tugged Vicky towards the large sink in the kitchen.
“It's fine, really,” she tried to assure her sister, but Sarah would not let
go of her wrists. Tears filled Sarah's eyes as she stared down at the cut she had unwrapped.
“Sarah it's okay,” Vicky said gently. “I'm okay, and everything is fine now,” she murmured reassuringly while clutching her back. When Vicky looked up she could see the deep fear in Sarah’s eyes.
“Vicky, what would I ever do without you?” Sarah asked with panic in her voice. “Do you even know how important you are to me?”
“I'm sure you'd manage just fine, Sarah,” Vicky said in a clipped voice as she struggled to control her emotions.
“No Vicky,” Sarah murmured and held her sister's gaze with her own. “I would never manage without you. Please, you have to be more careful,” she insisted as the medics arrived and took over the care of Vicky's arm.
“I will be,” Vicky promised her. As Mitchell entered the kitchen he met Vicky's gaze with the same fear in his eyes.
“Now exactly what happened here?” the sheriff demanded as he walked into the kitchen before Vicky and Mitchell had a chance to speak.
Mitchell looked as if he was ready to point out how Vicky and Aunt Ida had gotten into the middle of the investigation, but as he studied the man, he lowered his head slightly.
“Well, Sheriff, turns out, there was a bit more going on behind the scenes. I'll fill you in,” he said respectfully. He steered him down the steps to take in the crime scene. As Mitchell walked down the stairs he glanced back over his shoulder to look at Vicky. A small smile played across his lips as he met her eyes. It was all she needed to see to know exactly what he meant. The love between them was blossoming, even if yet unspoken. When he did speak, it was with a playful tone, “don't forget about that vacation!”
The End
Other Cozy Mysteries by Cindy Bell
Bekki the Beautician Cozy Mysteries
Hairspray and Homicide
A Dyed Blonde and a Dead Body
Mascara and Murder
Pageant and Poison
