“Nothing will happen until Ellen stops talking and passes out the candles. Nettie plans to leave before that happens. We have to grab her now!”
Reluctantly, he stepped aside.
While I headed to the store, Johnny ran to his truck. By the time I got through the crowd, Ellen Harmon had begun to preen like a male peacock, strutting around with the microphone in her hand. She was thrilled to be the center of everyone’s attention, and she was not about to relinquish the limelight quickly. The crowd listened intently, becoming a bit restless as she nattered on. Perry Gaynor and two children, a boy and a girl, bookended Ellen. Standing on tiptoe, I spotted Nettie hunkered down in the rear of the building, right next to the back door.
From where she stood, Nettie couldn’t see me as I sneaked around a corner to the letter sticker display. A tap on my shoulder caused me to whirl and find Clancy right behind me. I put a finger to my lips to signal “be quiet” while I pocketed a package of letter stickers. No one saw me; everyone was watching Ellen.
“What on earth?” My new friend frowned at me. Shoplifting was not something she approved of.
“It’s an emergency,” I whispered to Clancy before I led her outside. After briefly introducing Clancy to Johnny, I peeled off one sticker letter at a time and spelled out “Gas Company” on the front of Johnny’s shirt. Coupled with his clipboard full of papers, I hoped he would be accepted as a gas company employee.
“Give me a kiss. I’m going in.” With that, Johnny planted a smacker right on my lips.
Clancy wasn’t about to sit on the sidelines. “Let me go with him. I can help manage the crowd. We need to get everyone out of there fast.”
“It’s up to Kiki.” He turned to me.
“Okay, but we need to tell someone what we’re trying to do in case it doesn’t work.” I dialed Detweiler. He picked up first ring. “There’s a gas leak at Memories First. I’ve called 911. I’m with friends and we’re going to try to clear the store. Yvonne Gaynor’s killer is inside.”
“I’m on it,” he said. “Don’t try to be a hero. Kiki, get the heck out of there.”
I hung up on him.
76
I pushed my way through the crowd to where Rena was standing. Cupping one hand over my mouth, I told her what I suspected. She gasped and turned pale. “I … I smelled something … I didn’t stop to think … oh, no!” I whispered the details of our plan. She and I and Clancy watched as Johnny worked his way to Ellen Harmon’s side. He interrupted her midsentence, grabbing the microphone from her hand. When she protested, he whispered in her ear and pointed to the letters on his shirt.
I have no idea what exactly he said, but it was enough to put a scare into Ellen. She stood there, opening and closing her mouth, but she didn’t protest what happened next. Johnny took the mic out of her hand.
“Ladies and gentleman, we have a small problem, and we’ll need you to clear the building.” Johnny spoke with authority. “Stay calm and go outside in an orderly fashion. Go through the front entrance or the side exit. Stay away from the back of the building. Thank you.”
Rena had locked the front doors into their open position. I stood on one side while she was on the other. “Come right this way. Outside please,” we chanted.
Clancy worked the side door like the retired teacher she was. “Keep moving. Stay calm,” she said in a no-nonsense voice. “That’s right, please keep moving. Come along.”
Ellen Harmon realized the party was over. Suddenly, she made a grab for the mic, but Johnny moved it out of her reach. She lunged at him, but he turned his back on her. Following the cord to the outlet, he bent over and pulled the plug.
The sound of sirens arriving outside only added to Ellen’s distress. Everything was falling apart in front of her eyes. Her carefully orchestrated event was deflating like a child’s birthday balloon.
“Oh, no,” she wailed.
Johnny escorted her to the side exit. “If I’m wrong, you can be mad, okay?” He took her by the arm. “What’s the big deal? Your party might start late. So what?”
Meanwhile, I continued to wave people outside and into the parking lot. “That’s right. Stay calm. Please move away from the building.”
I could see the splash of rotating red lights reflecting on the walls of the store. Walkie-talkies crackled. More sirens wailed in the distance, getting louder and louder.
Almost everyone was outside now, but I hadn’t seen Nettie walk by. Was it possible she’d gone out through the side door?
“Rena? Did you see Nettie?”
“No.”
Leaving my post, I climbed up on a stool and scanned the sales floor. Finally I spotted Nettie. She had flattened herself near the far back wall, behind a fixture. Her agitated eyes moved around the room. She saw me—and it dawned on her what I knew. She sprang to her feet and headed for the side door. On her way through the door jam, she nearly knocked Clancy down. I hopped off the stool and raced through the store.
Memories of my last encounter with a killer served me well. I knew I needed a weapon. Something, anything. The more unexpected the better. On my way past a display, I grabbed a spray can.
Clancy struggled to regain her balance and get back on her feet. I didn’t pause to help. I was a woman on a mission—and that mission was to bring down Yvonne Gaynor’s killer.
Two months ago, my husband’s murderer had killer had gotten away. Every day since, I had lived with fear. I would not spend the rest of my days worrying when and how Nettie might strike back. Nor would I put my child and dog in further danger. One idiot with a grudge against me was enough. This was going to end right here, right now. My conviction made me fast and furious. Once I made it outside, I pushed my way through the gathered crowd and kept Nettie in my sights.
I followed her around the back of the building. Detweiler’s plea for me to be careful rang in my ears. So he did care about me! I hadn’t been fooling myself. As I ran, a warm feeling of hope took seed in my heart. He cared! An overwhelming sadness joined that seed of hope. Why is it always too late? And did it matter whether he cared? Not really because he was still married.
But I loved him. I knew I did. My thoughts were of him and Anya and Gracie. My love for all of them gave me strength.
77
My feet skidded on gravel. I slid to a halt. Facing me was a picket fence. A line of parked cars parked in front of the white slats. On one of them, someone had nailed an “Employees Only” sign. A few feet beyond the cars sat a Dumpster, backed up a low, concrete retaining wall.
I crept my way past the vehicles, moving heel-toe, heel-toe to stay silent. I listened carefully. There was no room for anyone to hide in front of the parked cars. That said, Nettie could be hiding between them. I held the aerosol can like a gun with the nozzle pointed ahead of me.
My heart thumped so hard that I thought my chest would explode. I concentrated on breathing out of my nose to slow my heartbeat.
As my ears became attuned, I could hear heavy breathing. But where was it coming from?
It had to be coming from behind the Dumpster.
I tiptoed to the big green bin. When I got there, I grabbed onto a corner of the cold metal box, trying to keep myself flat up against it. In that position, I inched along, gripping the top edge with one hand. I made as little noise as possible.
When I reached the corner, I had a decision to make. What if Nettie was there? What would I do?
I could spray her in the face, knock her down, and pin her to the ground. Then I would have to keep her pinned down until help could arrive. No way was I going to live in fear of another assailant threatening me, my child, and my dog.
I tightened my grip on the spray can and slowly poked my head around the corner.
“Got you!” Nettie threw her purse strap over my throat. My free hand yanked at it. The leather tightened. I pulled and pulled at the leather ribbon, trying to get enough room to breathe. The can tumbled out of my grasp. With both hands, I tried to loosen the strap.
Nettie pulled the noose tighter. “You can’t stop me, Kiki. They have to die! All of them. They deserve it. They think Yvonne was so great, but she tricked them. She tricked me. She said she needed my help. I left her alone with my layouts for five minutes. Five minutes! She took pictures and copied them.”
I slipped one thumb under the strap, but that only made matters worse. I couldn’t loosen it. My lungs burned for air. Black edges framed my vision. I saw stars. I felt fire in my lungs. The strap cut into my flesh. I sagged, choking under the weight of my own body. The lack of oxygen was tiring me out.
Nettie’s arms were shaking with exertion. When her muscles spasmed, she relaxed her hold long enough for me to suck in a lungful of air. I held the can in one hand, with the other I wiggled the fingers of one hand under the strap, hoping for leverage. The oxygen revitalized me. All too soon, Nettie tightened her grip again. I planted my feet on top of hers and pushed upward. My abrupt change of direction caught Nettie off-guard. She stumbled backward, taking me with her. We landed in a heap. My fall was cushioned by her body but the impact knocked the can out of my grip.
Fighting the strap around my throat, I tried to roll away. Nettie was under me, struggling to keep her hold on the strap. I did my best to scramble in the direction I’d heard the can hit, but I didn’t get very far. My eyes were watering. I blinked, trying to clear them. Finally, I spotted the can, off to the side, halfway under the dumpster. I reached for it. The fingertips of my right hand brushed the curve of the bottom. Bracing herself against me, Nettie got to her feet. She shifted her weight and planted one knee in my back. Taking advantage of her temporarily loosened grip, I wiggled the fingers of my left hand under the strap once again. Tugging it away from my throat gave me a little bit of air.
Revitalized, I reached as far as I could until my fingers curled around the metal cylinder. Pressing the can against the gravel for leverage, I managed to slide my hand up to the cap. Pinching it with my fingers, I struggled to pop the cap off.
I couldn’t do it one-handed. I quit trying to tug the strap away from my throat. Using both hands, I snapped the cap off the can. The lack of oxygen confused me. I had trouble getting my finger on the nozzle of the can.
Nettie pulled me close. I felt the moist air of her breath against my skin. “You’re a dead woman,” she yelled in my ear.
I found the nozzle. I raised my hand, aimed the can, and pressed the button. I heard a hiss. I smelled chemicals. I concentrated all my energy on keeping my finger on the knob.
“Argh!” Nettie screamed. She let go of the strap. I pitched forward, throwing both hands out to break my fall.
“My eyes! My eyes! I can’t see!” Nettie howled in pain.
As I smacked into the ground, the can of Madelyn’s Scrapbook Protectant rolled past me. I didn’t need to read the label; I already knew what it said: Avoid contact with eyes.
78
The rest is pretty fuzzy and maybe I dreamed this, but Detweiler was in the ambulance with me. He wiped the back of his hand across his face. I thought I heard him blow his nose. The EMT stepped aside, and given that opening, he knelt beside the gurney, stroking my hair. He took my hand and kissed my palm and curled my fingers closed to hold the kiss. “You’re going to make it,” he said in that no-nonsense voice of his. “You have to. We’re not done yet, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”
But like I said, maybe it was just a dream.
79
I woke up to Mert and Sheila arguing. Anya was sitting in a chair in a corner watching them with an anxious expression on her face. The place smelled like burned popcorn and rubbing alcohol. The sheets were stiff like sandpaper. An institutional TV was mounted on the wall. At my side stood a stainless steel tray and a pole holding a bag of fluid. I figured I was in a hospital, and I was right.
“She’s coming to my house, and that’s final,” said my mother-in-law. Her lipstick was faded and her hair was all askew.
Mert didn’t look much better. Her mascara had melted and gummed her eyelashes into one fat glob. “She’s coming home with me. I’m taking care of her. I’m not letting her out of my sight.”
Anya glanced over at me and hopped out of her chair. “Mom! You’re awake. You’re okay. The doc said it would be a good sign if you woke up fast, and you did. I was worried.”
“Great jumping Jehoshaphats,” said Mert, rising to come and take my hand. “Gosh darn it, girl, you had us scared.”
“Kiki,” Sheila said in a voice choked with emotion, “thank goodness. Robbie Holmes told me to call him the minute you woke up.” She touched my shoulder gently.
Anya snuggled beside me while her grandmother pushed a button. When no one answered, Sheila tsk-tsked and said, “I’ll be back after I get a nurse to look in on you.”
“Johnny was beside himself,” Mert said as she stroked my hair. “He blamed himself for not watching you closer. He’s been miserable as a dog with a double case of pinworms. I’m going to tell him you’re right as rain, and I saw it with my own two eyes.”
Talking was difficult. Not surprisingly, my throat felt raw. I rasped, “Everyone … got … out … Nettie?”
“They’re all fine.” Mert smiled at me. “Iff’n it weren’t for you and my baby brother, a whole passel of folks would be…” and she paused with a glance at Anya.
“Let’s get you a little water,” Mert said. She offered me a straw inside a plastic glass. “When them cops first arrived, Ellen Harmen fussed and fussed about how you was purposely ruining her get together. But soon as they checked the place out, the police done set her straight how you saved her bacon from frying in the pan. Lord above, girl. That was a close one.”
“You’re a hero, Mom.” Anya took my fingers and squeezed them. “It’s all over the news.”
Robbie Holmes came racing into the room with Sheila two steps behind. The crisp creases of his uniform matched the sharp intensity of his gaze. “I know you can’t talk,” he said as Mert moved to one side, allowing him access to me. “But if you can write things out for us, your answers will help us build our case against Mrs. Klasser.”
A nurse appeared at his elbow. “Back off, everybody. Mrs. Lowenstein needs rest. She’s had a shock.”
“Pen? Paper?” I rasped. “Then … rest.”
Robbie rounded up a notepad and a pen. Reaching down along the side of the bed, he came back up with a folding piece that functioned as a desktop. After I finished, I handed the top sheet of paper to him.
This is what I wrote: Nettie knew Yvonne loved orange scones. She mixed baby aspirin with the icing. Nettie, Rena, and Yvonne arrived all at once with the crowd. Nettie must have put out the scones when no one was watching. She had her own Epi-Pen prescription, so she traded an empty one of hers for Yvonne’s.
Robbie frowned. “What’s the motive?”
Yvonne stole Nettie’s scrapbook designs and entered them into a contest as her own.
Robbie stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You’re telling me—and you expect me to believe—that a scrapbook contest was that important? With all due respect, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“No, it’s not, Chief Holmes.” Anya had worked her way onto the bed so that she was seated beside me. “You don’t know scrapbookers. They put their whole lives into their albums. Most of them never get any recognition for anything. Ever. That contest was very important to them.”
I puffed up with pride because my little girl, the daughter of a scrapbooker, knew her stuff.
“Jest because something don’t seem important to you or your cop buddies don’t mean it don’t mean the world to someone else,” Mert added. “Besides, it weren’t just that there contest setting old Nettie off. She was betrayed by her friend.”
Chief Holmes shook his head. “I’d have never guessed the motive for this crime. I’ve got to hand it to you, Kiki. You are really something.”
80
As places to recover go, Sheila’s was a good one. Linnea loved fussing
over me, making me soups and plumping my pillows. To make me and my dog more comfortable, Sheila purchased a dog bed and water bowl to match the guest room décor.
While I was healing, it seemed like the whole world trooped through my bedroom doors.
First of all, Dodie stopped by to tell me how much she appreciated me solving the mystery and redeeming the good name of the store. Ellen’s lawyer had advised her to apologize to us and she did so, publicly.
That led to scrapbookers showing up at Time in a Bottle in droves. Old customers and new ones praised me for saving lives by evacuating Memories First before it blew to smithereens. Dodie also had good news on the personal front. Horace had accepted a job in Chicago and would be able to do much of the work from home. When I asked about the lump in her breast, she evaded my question.
I didn’t have the energy to press the issue. My body was covered with bruises, one of my ribs was cracked, and my throat muscles hurt.
Dodie was happy to carry the conversational ball. “Well, Sunshine. I’m planning on your new celebrity status counteracting all that bad P.R. that Ellen heaped on us.”
My second guest was Bama. She brought me a calligraphy kit and coached me in making the letters. The secret is letting the pen turn in your hand. Who knew?
Clancy came by several times. She brought me a book on tape about an amateur sleuth, but she handed it over with a warning, “Don’t get any bright ideas. That sure was a close call. Exciting, but not worth repeating, okay?”
Ben Novak sent a dozen pink roses. He brought me a book on the history of St. Louis and joined me in a dinner that Sheila orchestrated and Linnea made. He and I ate off trays by candlelight although he joked that he’d checked all the water heaters first. He had steak, and I had slimy food designed to put minimal stress on my throat.
Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books! Page 46
