She bit her lip and squeezed my hands. “Well, then, I hope Mars notices how gorgeous you are and that he makes Wolf jealous.”
I hugged my hopeless romantic of a mother. Nothing would ever change her quest to see her daughters happily married. Even if it meant one of them would be married to weird Craig.
The rain had stopped and darkness had descended on Old Town by the time we gathered in the kitchen. While the others donned their coats, I carefully walked through the house, turning out lights.
“I’m taking Daisy to Nina’s to play with Duke while we’re out,” I announced as we left. Daisy and I ran across the wet street to Nina’s while everyone else waited on the sidewalk.
Nina was already wearing her burglar black outfit when she answered the door. “You look great. It’s a pity you’re not going out,” she said, closing the door behind me.
I released Daisy from her leash. “Are you ready?”
“Honey, I’ve got two pairs of binoculars, my phone, and a thermos of coffee upstairs waiting by the window. Who do you think is going to show up?”
Hot air escaped from my mouth and I sagged like a deflating balloon. “The colonel, Mars, Andrew, and Bernie all hated Simon and were at the hotel that day. The only one who scares me is Craig. If you see him going in the house, call the police immediately.”
“Craig? Why would he be the killer?”
“I haven’t been able to get anything out of him. But he went back to the scene of the crime the next day and he acts so strange and creepy. He’s up to something.”
“My money’s still on Natasha. Maybe Simon found out about her affair with Clyde and threatened to tell Mars. Besides, it would be so like her to bring poison in a fancy vial.”
“I don’t know, Nina. I’m still kind of hoping it will be Mrs. Pulchinski.”
“Fat chance. Are you ready for act one?”
I had no choice. It was now or never. I took a deep breath of air and nodded.
Nina swung the door open and I ran outside and across the street.
“Nina’s husband was taken to the hospital in Chicago,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “She’s a complete wreck! You go ahead and I’ll catch up as soon as I can calm her down a little bit and find out what’s going on with her husband.”
“Oh, honey,” said Mom, “maybe I can help.”
“No. We have reservations. Besides, the others will be waiting for you.”
“Let’s go, Mom. Sophie will come soon, I’m sure.” Hannah prodded them along.
I felt guilty as I watched them walk away in the dark. Hannah hooked her arm into Craig’s. The colonel walked beside June. Mom consoled Francie, and Bernie brought up the rear with Dad.
When they were out of sight, I hurried back to Nina’s. After changing into my black outfit, I patted Daisy and Duke and scurried out of Nina’s back door. The alley behind her house was inky and much creepier than I’d expected. The lights from the houses simply didn’t reach that far. I ran behind the Wesleys’ house, turned right, and dashed up the sidewalk. But when I reached our street, I kept going until I hit the entrance to the alley that ran behind my own house. I stopped to catch my breath.
An occasional car drove by. I shivered, only partly from the cold night air. The other part stemmed from my nerves, which were stretched to capacity. Searching the night for any hint of movement, I knew it was time for the final leg of my return home. I fled through the alley, fumbled with the latch on my gate, finally managed to open it, and slid through. I closed it slowly and without noise. Leaning against it, I watched the back of my house for a couple of minutes but it appeared peaceful. No shadows crossed through the sunroom.
I let myself in through the sunroom door and locked it behind me. Tiptoeing, I collected Mars’s Taser from the cabinet in the kitchen where I’d stashed it. Lest anyone see me from the street, I hurried back to the den. Propping the door to the living room ajar so I could see, I picked up my phone to call Nina and let her know I was in place.
The phone was already vibrating.
THIRTY
From “THE GOOD LIFE”:
Dear Sophie,
Our church is sponsoring a turkey dinner for the less fortunate and everyone is supposed to make something. I’m hopeless in the kitchen, but when I tried my usual trick of offering to bring rolls from the bakery, they expected me to bake them myself. I got out of that, but what can I make from scratch that I can’t goof up?
—Praying in Pulaski
Dear Praying,
Offer to make the cranberry sauce. There’s nothing simpler. All you need are cranberries, water, and sugar. The recipe is on the back of every bag of fresh cranberries. Dump all three ingredients together, bring them to a boil, then turn down the heat and let cook for five minutes. Just watch them to be sure they don’t bubble over. They won’t be ruined if they do, but you’ll have a big mess on your hands, so don’t walk away from them. The sauce is delicious hot or cold.
—Sophie
“Sophie,” whispered Hannah, “I’m so sorry. The killer is your pal, Bernie.”
I should have felt fearful or anxious. Instead, sadness enveloped me. “Everyone else is there?”
“Not yet. But Bernie peeled off while we were walking down here. Like he couldn’t wait. He muttered something about having to check on a friend and that he’d catch up with us at the restaurant.”
A friend? Did he go to alert Mrs. Pulchinski? She could come to search the house while he had an alibi, eating dinner with us and the detective in charge of the case. What a coup. “Is Wolf there?”
“Not yet. Mars and Natasha are here, though.”
Had Bernie returned the key he borrowed? What if he hadn’t gone to see Mrs. Pulchinski? What if he doubled back and was already in the house? “Call me back when everyone’s there,” I hissed and hung up.
I had to know about the key. The old floors creaked underneath me when I stood up. I’d never make it to the console in the foyer to check on the key without being heard. Grasping the Taser firmly, I scanned the sunroom and the backyard. When it seemed the coast was clear, I snuck into the dark hallway to the foyer. I couldn’t risk turning on a light. I placed the Taser on the console so I could pull the drawer with both hands. It squeaked when I opened it. Unwilling to pull it completely open, I slid my hand in and felt around.
My phone vibrated again. I couldn’t answer. It would have to wait.
The key wasn’t in the drawer and I couldn’t recall Bernie handing it back to me. Wasn’t that the night he came home so late? I heard a thunk and jumped. My breathing sounded raspy in the still house. I scuttled back to the den to wait for Bernie. Positioned in a crouch near the door to the living room again, I flipped open the phone and called Nina.
“He’s in the house!” she screamed.
She had to mean Bernie. But where was he? “What did you see?”
“Either he used a key or he’s really good at picking locks. He went in through the front door. Glanced around a little like he was checking to be sure no one saw him.”
“It’s Bernie,” I whispered.
“Wait . . .”
I could hear rustling sounds and assumed she needed both hands for the binoculars. “There’s someone else. He’s going in through the kitchen door.”
Something soft brushed my knee and I stifled a squeal. Mochie purred loudly at my feet.
“I have to call Hannah!” I hung up and dialed Hannah’s number. “Who’s missing?”
“Sophie!” she said in a conversational tone. “Are you coming soon? Almost everyone is here now. We’re still waiting for Bernie and Humphrey. Vicki isn’t here yet, either, but she’s coming. Andrew says she promised to bring meringues to her office tomorrow and she’s waiting for them to finish baking so she can take them out of the oven.”
“Okay, thanks.” I flipped the phone shut. Humphrey. I never would have thought it. But if Humphrey was the killer, why was Bernie here? My head throbbed. My hands were clammy. My breath sounded like a winded elephant. I forced myself to breath shallowly. I couldn’t. I would pass out.
Okay, Sophie. Slow, deep breaths. Stay alert.
The phone vibrated. I flipped it open, wishing the LED wasn’t so darned bright. I covered it with one of Bernie’s shirts.
“It’s the darndest thing,” said Nina. “Now somebody’s watching your house from a parked car.”
I heard something in the living room. “Hang on, Nina,” I whispered. The person was making no effort whatsoever to hide his presence. I leaned forward and peeped. The beam from headlights of a car driving by flashed through the living room for a moment. Long enough for me to see Mochie jump to the top of the grandfather clock.
Where were the two people Nina had seen entering the house? I recognized the squeal of the drawer in the foyer console. Bernie. He must be putting the key back.
Or was the killer looking for the poison vial?
Nina’s voice screeched on the phone. I held it to my ear.
“Somebody’s running to your house. He’s going for the kitchen door. Having trouble opening it.”
Three people? How was that possible? Did Hannah say Wolf was there? I couldn’t remember. I hoped Wolf was the person in the car because I would need him if there were three killers. I couldn’t defend myself against three people with one lousy Taser.
The Taser. I felt around on the floor. No Taser. I must have left it on the console in the foyer. And now I had to face three people. My hands shook at the thought.
Who could they be? I had to call Hannah. This wasn’t working the way I’d planned at all.
Mochie mewed and a light flashed in the living room. I snapped the phone shut. I couldn’t call Hannah now. I gulped for air. What had Hannah said? Bernie and Humphrey weren’t there. Had she mentioned Wolf?
Think, Sophie, think!
Vicki would be on her way as soon as she took meringues out of the oven.
Vicki. Meringues should be left in the oven to cool. They baked on a low heat to dry out and were supposed to stay in the closed oven with the heat off for at least two hours. Especially on a rainy day like this.
Moving as silently as possible, I kneeled by the cracked door. The intruder shone a flashlight in the silver drawer of my buffet.
Footsteps slammed through the house accompanied by hoarse, hacking breaths.
The flashlight turned off.
A single gunshot echoed.
Heavy feet staggered in my direction. It took every ounce of fortitude not to slam the door and run. I was safer if no one knew I was there.
A terrific thud resounded and shook the old house so hard I could feel the tremor under my knees.
“Vicki?” A man’s voice, scared and small.
“Nooooo!”
The high-pitched scream melded with the sound of someone running into the living room.
A flashlight flickered on Vicki, who hovered over Andrew sprawled on his back.
But who held the flashlight? Wolf? I squinted to see better, but it didn’t help.
“Why is it that you make a mess of everything? You couldn’t just come in this house, find the poison bottle, and leave? Why am I always cleaning up after you?”
The man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him.
Somebody sniffled. Vicki?
“You’re not even supposed to be here! And neither are you, Andrew,” she wailed. “I didn’t mean to shoot you. I thought you were Sophie or Wolf. And now you’re bleeding . . .”
“You poisoned Mars?” Andrew sounded remarkably calm for someone who’d been shot. “But why?”
“You’re such a dolt, Andrew,” said the other man. “She was supposed to poison Natasha, but, as usual, little Vicki couldn’t get the simplest thing right and she poisoned Mars instead. I thought she’d outgrown that, but it’s just like when we were kids.”
“That’s not true,” protested Vicki. “I don’t mess up everything.”
“Really? I suppose you thought it through before you whacked Simon over the head?” He walked to the buffet and shone the flashlight on it. The drawer complained when he jerked it open. “Thanks to you, I’m unemployed. Today is another perfect example. Instead of finding the poison container, you’ve shot your husband and I’m going to have to clean up after you. Again.”
“You . . . you killed Simon? Why did you want to kill Natasha?” Andrew’s voice had grown weaker.
Had he already lost too much blood? I wavered. If I went to his aid, they’d kill me. Where was Wolf?
I inched back, praying the floorboards wouldn’t creak. Holding the cell phone under my sweater to dim the light, I pressed 911.
The operator answered too loudly. I looked up, afraid I’d given myself away, but Vicki’s sobbing must have covered the operator’s voice.
Whispering as loud as I dared, I said the address and “shooting.”
“I can’t hear you. You have to speak up.”
I tried again. “Send ambulance.”