A Rose From the Dead (25 page)

“W
ho’s there?” I demanded, trying to sound fierce as I eased backward toward the desk. I felt for the lighter with trembling hands and flicked it, trying to get it to spark. It caught at last, producing a weak blue flame. I held it to the candle, but before the wick caught flame, a mop of springy gray curls and a long, gaunt, hollow-cheeked face appeared in the doorway.

“Eli! You scared me half to—”

“Sh-h!” He stepped into the room and pulled the oak door shut behind him, cutting us off from the rest of the coach. “Put out that light. I can’t take any chances.”

Any chances? What was he talking about? “I’m claustrophobic, Eli. The light helps.”

“Put it out,” he whispered harshly, moving toward me. “The police might see it.”

“That’s okay. They won’t hurt you. I’ll talk to them.”

He jerked the candle out of my hand and tossed it onto the small sofa. “Just do as I say.”

By the dim, flickering blue light, I could see that his pupils were dilated and his mouth showed foamy spittle in the corners. For the first time he looked truly deranged, and I was scared. “Okay, Eli. It’s going out.”

I flipped the lighter shut, cutting off the thin flame. Fearfully, I widened my stance and raised my fists in front of my face, ready to either defend myself or run like hell. How could I have been so off the mark with Eli? I should have listened to Marco and Reilly, but no, I had to trust my instincts. They never lied. Boy, when I was wrong about a person, I was
really
wrong.

Even worse was knowing that the cops probably wouldn’t think to search Chet’s darkened motor coach. Even if they approached it, all they’d have to do was talk to Chet, who’d tell them Eli wasn’t there. What was I going to do?

I could hear Eli moving around the small space, but I couldn’t tell what he was doing. “How did you know I was here?” I whispered.

“I saw you go in—” Eli stopped moving. “What was that?”

“What was what?”
Please be Chet please be Chet please be Chet.

“Sh-h-h!”

I didn’t hear anything except for the blood pounding in my ears. Damn it, why hadn’t Chet turned on the juice? Being in total darkness was more frightening than anything else because I had no way to prepare. “Eli, you’d better get out while you can. Chet will be back any minute—he only went to fix the electricity—and you don’t want to tangle with him.”

“I know where he went,” Eli snapped. “I cut the cord to get him out of the way.”

Out of the
way
? For what, to kill me?

To think I fell for Eli’s story about wanting to get inside to hand out brochures! He’d been after Sybil right from that first confrontation in front of the convention center. No, more like from the moment she’d had him fired from Billingsworth and Blount. Then when he suspected that I was investigating the murder, he’d started stalking me. And all the while I had railed against the injustice of picking on a man whose only goal was to promote his burlap bags.

I took a slow, steady breath to calm my rising fear, knowing I’d never escape if I panicked. I needed a plan.
Think, Abby! Where’s the nearest door?
I tried to picture the cab. There was a door on the driver’s side, but I’d have to maneuver the step between the swivel chairs, crawl over the driver’s seat, and fumble for the handle, all in the dark. The door was sure to be locked. What if I couldn’t find the button to unlock it before Eli found
me
?

Suddenly, big hands clamped down on my upper arms from behind, causing me to let out a startled gasp and instinctively try to twist away so I could aim a good kick. But he was stronger than I thought, and hustled me across the small space until my knees hit the sofa. “Sit,” he commanded.

I sat, trying to keep my breathing even so I didn’t faint. Time seemed to be passing in nanoseconds as my mind raced in fear. Wasn’t it supposed to happen just the opposite way? Wasn’t time supposed to slow down when a person faced death?
New plan, Abby. Come on!

If only I had my cell phone! But it was in my purse, on the floor next to the sofa, just beyond my reach. If I could scoot over a few inches, then ease my hand down the side of the sofa, slip it into the purse, and get the phone open far enough to hit the
SEND
button, it would call the last number dialed—Marco’s number.

But how would he know where I was? Foolishly, I hadn’t told Lottie or Grace where I was headed. The only people to see me enter the motor coach were Eli, Sue, and Lizard Lover Luke, and he’d probably already left for home. I didn’t have a clue as to where Sue had gone. Maybe Eli had gotten her out of the way, too.

I moved closer to the edge of the sofa but froze when I heard Eli kneel down in front of me. I couldn’t see him, but I could smell his garlicky breath. “Listen to me carefully. It’s almost five o’clock. I need to get back inside the convention center before everyone leaves.”

I had to keep him talking so I could slip my hand into my purse. It was an open-topped tote bag, and my cell phone would probably be at the bottom, which meant I’d have to dig through everything on top. “What are you going to do in the convention center?”

“I told you when I saw you in the woods,” he said impatiently.

“Look, I’m a little rattled right now, so would you mind refreshing my memory?”
Lip gloss, pack of tissues, box of mints, comb, checkbook, receipt, receipt, receipt…

“I have to find the man with the shoes.”

Not that again. “The man who killed Sybil, right?”
Where was my phone?

“Right, and you have to get me inside before he leaves, without the cops seeing me. So here’s what you’ll have to do. At the west end of the—”

“Time out. Are you telling me that you’re keeping me in this dark, stuffy space to explain how I’m going to get you inside the convention center?”

“What did you think?” he asked, clearly exasperated.

That Marco was right about you being a wack job.
“You cut the electricity to get Chet out of the motor coach so you could duck inside to talk to me?”

“Have I been talking gibberish?”

“All you want from me is my
help
?”

He leaned into my face, washing me with his sour breath. “I. Need. You. To. Get. Me. Inside. Do you get it now?”

“Got it.”

“Listen carefully. There are two cops stationed at the corner of the west end of the building, and another pair on the east end. There’s also a team with dogs out in the woods. There’s probably more cops inside each entrance. When Chet returns with his floozy, wait until they’re in the bedroom, then slip out the side door. You can’t go through the cab because it’s locked. Go through the loading-dock door and find me a disguise that covers my head.”

“Where am I supposed to find a disguise?”

“You’ll come up with something. Then bring it back here and rap twice on the cab window so I’ll know it’s you. Understand?”

Oh, yeah. I understood—that I had a way out. What I didn’t understand was why he was making it so easy for me to escape. If he wanted to harm me, his plan made no sense. Was he stupid
and
dangerous or just crazy?

Does it matter?
Actually, it did, because strangely enough, my gut feeling about Eli had returned, stronger than ever. Ah, I’d found the phone at last. I pried it open with my thumb and felt for the
SEND
button.

All at once the lights and television burst on, making me blink as my eyes adjusted, and sending Eli to his feet in surprise as the videotape resumed where it had left off. Eli was wearing jeans and a denim shirt, and without the brown robe he looked as normal as any other wild-haired, hollow-cheeked madman.

I pressed
SEND
, then laid the open phone on top of the jumble inside my purse and carefully slid my hand out so he wouldn’t suspect what I’d done. I needn’t have worried. Eli was standing in the middle of the room staring at the monitor as the actor on the video said to the actress, “I hear you’re looking for a tutor,” then laughed lasciviously.

I reached for the remote to turn it off, but Eli cried, “Don’t stop it.” He stepped up to the monitor and tapped his finger against it. “What’s the actor’s name?”

Why did he care? Hoping Marco had answered his phone and could hear me, I said, “Eli, listen, if you want your plan to get inside the convention center to work, you’d better—”

“Tell me the actor’s name,” he demanded, flapping his arms against his sides.

“I believe he’s Chester Domingo.”

Eli pounded the screen with his hand. “This has to be the guy, only a younger version. It’s the same laugh I heard when I was hiding under the table. He’s in the convention center right now.” Eli spun to face me, his pupils huge and black. “Get me in there—
now
!”

At that moment a door opened deeper inside the trailer and footsteps came toward us. It had to be Chet returning at last.

With a look of alarm, Eli held a finger to his lips, then quickly darted into the cab area.

I
pressed
STOP
on the remote, grabbed my purse, and started for the door. I’d get Marco and come back for the videotape.

“Some buffoon cut my electrical cord,” Chet said as he stepped inside the room. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to use the video player until I have it fixed. We’re running on limited battery power, and it would cause too much of a drain. But don’t worry. I’ve contacted an electrician, so have a seat. He said he’d be right out. It shouldn’t take long.”

Here was my chance to tell him that Eli was in the room, but an alarm was sounding in my head. Why would Chet have to call an electrician? Mr. Make It Easy didn’t need help in that department—he’d given a demonstration of cord splicing on one of his shows only a few weeks ago. I’d watched it with Nikki. What was going on here?

Chet’s cell phone began to play the
Make It Easy
song. He took it out of his shirt pocket, looked at the screen, then shut it off. But the song continued to play in my head.
“Make it
e-e-e-asy on yourself…,”
except I was hearing Angelique’s words:
“Roses are red and violets are blue-ew-ew…”

It was the same tune. Her words, his theme song. That was a strong coincidence. “Where’s Sue?” I asked nervously.

“She had to go. Would you like a drink?” Chet asked, opening a cabinet. “I have a full bar.”

“No, thanks.” My mind raced back to the conversation I’d had with Angelique when she described her hunt for Sybil.

“When did you hear the melody?”
I’d asked her.

“Right before I turned the corner.”

“But you didn’t see anyone in the hallway?”

“No. I felt an icy chill, though, like dead souls swirling all around me.”

Angelique must have heard Chet’s cell phone. But if she hadn’t seen him when she turned the corner, then he must have just walked out the back door, which was why she’d felt the chill. Still, why would Chet be leaving the building through the back exit while the banquet was going on? Was it another coincidence?

While Chet poured himself a glass of scotch, I studied him, mentally adding curly hair, a heavy moustache, and thick glasses, then removing his short beard. Oh, my God. He was Chester Domingo—Sybil’s other blackmail victim. That was one coincidence too many.

Now I understood why he’d been stunned by the porn video playing on his monitor, and why he’d tried to keep me from watching the tape. His lie about the electrician was no doubt another attempt to get the video back. Or maybe he was stalling to find out whether I had uncovered his secret. Or maybe he
knew
that I had uncovered it and was deciding what to do about it, in which case I needed to get out of there.

“I don’t really need to watch that video right now,” I told him, tightening my grip on my purse. “But I’ll take you up on your offer to make a copy for me.” I turned to leave, but he blocked my way.

“Surely you’re not leaving so soon?”

“Actually, I have to be someplace.” I tried to squeeze around him, but he wouldn’t budge. “Excuse me,” I said firmly, as a frisson of fear crept up my spine.

He dropped all pretense of politeness, his mouth curving into an ugly sneer. “Where did you get that videotape?”

“Someone gave it to me. Look, it’s no big deal. Keep it. I don’t need it.”

“
Who
gave it to you?”

I wasn’t about to tell him how I got it, so what lie would he believe? “Ross and Jess Urban. They made copies and handed them out as a joke.”

“They own a Beta recorder?”

“They’re rich. They have resources. And you know they love to play pranks on people.”

“Come on, Nikki’s roommate, you can come up with a better story than that.”

“You’ve totally lost me now, Chet. Look, my boyfriend is supposed to meet me at my booth at five o’clock. He’s probably there right now, and if I don’t get back soon…”

Chet grabbed my arms and pulled me close, lifting me on tiptoe. “You got the tape from Sybil, didn’t you?”

“Why would she give it to
me
?”

His grip tightened, bringing tears to my eyes. “Do you want me to keep squeezing?”

“Okay,” I gasped, and immediately his fingers relaxed. At least if I could keep him engaged in conversation, Marco would have a chance to find me.

“Sybil called her lawyer yesterday and asked him to come get the video because she was worried you’d try to take it from her. He told her he couldn’t get there until this morning, so she gave it to me for safekeeping.”

Chet’s grip tightened. “If Sybil had given her lawyer my name, he would have gone to the police as soon as he learned she was dead, and they would have questioned me.” He gave me a vicious shake. “You’re only making it tougher on yourself with your lies.”

A lump of fear in my throat made my voice sound thick. “Fine. Here’s the honest truth. Sybil really did contact her lawyer about some belongings she wanted him to keep for her. My boyfriend and I suspected it might be blackmail evidence, so we broke into her room and took it so we could find out who her victims were.”

“For what reason?”

“The police were questioning our friend. We didn’t want her charged with murder.”

He shoved me backward, onto the sofa. “So you know Sybil was blackmailing me.”

“You weren’t her only victim.” I pulled my purse strap back onto my shoulder, praying that my phone was still connected and someone was listening, if not Marco, at least Eli—if he hadn’t managed to get out of the cab somehow. “And so what if you were in that movie, Chet? Many actors started out that way. Does anyone care?”

“My sponsor cares!” he shouted. “Do you tink I would get the Humanitarian Award if it got out that I had made a pornographic movie? Do you tink they’d keep me on as their spokesman? I’d be ruined.” He began to pace around the small room, waving his arms in the air. “My career would be over. Finished. I’d be washed up. At my age, what would I do?”

“So you set up a meeting with Sybil in the storage room to try to buy back the tape?”

Chet said nothing for a long moment; then he stopped pacing and stood with his head bowed. I eyed the doorway, wondering whether I should make a run for it.

“Sybil was already there,” he said at last, his voice low and strained. “She’d been with one of her young conquests. I was on my way to the banquet and heard her calling for help. I opened the door, and there she was, sitting in that coffin, spitting mad. ‘Chet,’ she said, ‘give me your jacket. That bastard Ross ran off with my clothes.’”

My instincts had been right on two counts: Eli wasn’t the killer, and Ross
had
been involved, just not in the way I’d expected.

“You see,” Chet said, crouching in front of me as if he were about to explain a football play, “if Sybil had cooperated with me, she’d be alive right now. I told her I’d give her my jacket as long as she let me buy the videotape. I even upped the offer I’d made earlier, but she said she preferred a steady income. I pleaded with her to change her mind, but she only laughed.”

Demonstrating with his open hand, he said through clenched teeth, “So I pushed her face down into that casket and slammed the lid. I could hear her yelling, ‘Let me out or I swear to God I’ll destroy you.’ And I almost did, but then I thought, Sybil can’t ruin me if she’s dead. So I put the toolbox on top, wiped off my fingerprints, and walked out the door.”

Boy, had he deluded himself, because the tape would still be out there. I was tempted to ask more, but Chet glanced at his watch, then pushed to his feet. “This way, please.” He gestured toward the doorway.

I rose warily, keeping my purse firmly clamped under my arm. “Where are we going?”

He merely gestured again, so I took a breath and hurried past him. I couldn’t believe he was letting me go that easily, but I wasn’t about to stick around to question him.

Just as I reached the side door, he grabbed my arm. “Not that way.”

Shivers of apprehension shook my insides as he led me toward the hallway. “What are you doing, Chet?”

He didn’t reply, and that frightened me even more. I tried to jerk my arm free, only to have him tighten his grip. Nearly sick with fear, I grabbed a door frame and hung on. “Look, Chet, I swear I won’t tell anyone about your movie. I don’t want to see your career ruined.”

“You tink I’m stupid? My reputation is at stake here, and I will not allow anyting or anyone—not Sybil, and definitely not you—to destroy it.”

“Just get rid of the video. Then it’s just your word against mine, and who’s going to believe a small-town florist over a superstar like you?”

“I can’t take that chance.”

“Eli, help!” I shouted, sinking to my knees as Chet pried my sweating hands off the frame.

“No one can hear you,” he chided. “The coach is soundproof.” He grabbed me around the middle and threw me over his shoulder, knocking the wind out of my lungs and sending my purse flying off my shoulder.

Please, Eli, for God’s sake, do something!
Surely he realized the danger I was in. Or had he managed to open a window and escape?

With blood rushing to my head, I renewed my efforts to get free, yelling like a banshee, pinching Chet’s back, and attempting to drive my knees into his chest, but he merely slid me farther over his shoulder, gripping me around the upper thighs, making it impossible to move my legs. He stopped in front of the sauna, opened the door, and tossed me onto the floor inside, then left, shutting the door behind him.

I staggered to my feet, bruised from the fall, but grateful Chet hadn’t done anything worse. I grabbed the recessed handle and turned it, but the door didn’t budge. He’d obviously locked it from the outside. I turned to glance around. There were no windows in the tiny room and only one dim, recessed light overhead, so I pounded on the thick marble outer wall even though I doubted the sound would carry through it.

A moment later, the door opened and Chet came in carrying a roll of gray duct tape that I knew was meant for me. Petrified, I climbed onto the cedar bench and held my arms in a defensive position. “Stay away.”

He laughed just as he had on the video and pulled off a long length of the heavy tape. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Chet. You can’t get away with two crimes.”

He didn’t seem worried. I pressed my back against the wall for leverage, and when he came at me, I kicked out with my foot. But Chet knew the countermove, and suddenly I was on my stomach, my chin against the wooden planks and my arms pulled behind me.

Quickly, he bound my wrists, then flipped me onto my side on the narrow bench and tore off more tape. When he leaned down to put it over my mouth, I jerked my head away, my heart pounding so hard it shook my rib cage. “Are you so cold-blooded that you could m—?”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair to hold my head steady as he pressed the sticky tape over my mouth. Overwhelmed by feelings of suffocation, I began to hyperventilate, panting through my nose. I whimpered in dread as he ripped off yet another length of tape, this one to stop my breathing. I had only minutes to live.
Marco, where are you?

All at once the motor coach lurched backward, sending Chet sprawling onto his rear. “What the hell is going on?” he bellowed.

I felt the engine vibrating the bench. We were moving!

There was another lurch, forward this time; then, jerking at first, the coach began to pick up speed. But who was driving? It couldn’t be Marco or the cops. It had to be Eli.

Where was he taking us?