“I think she’s on her period,” Georgia Three whispered none too quietly to his cohorts.
Maggie had had it. “If you’re not gone in five minutes, I will find rabid dogs and sic them on you,” she screamed at the boys. She flung open the door and slammed it shut behind her. As she marched back to the shotgun, she saw the Butlers’ car pull out of the driveway. The Rykers were loading up their SUV.
Then Maggie noticed Angela and Suzy carrying suitcases to the Cuties’ minivan. She ran up to them.
“You’re leaving too?”
“We have to,” Angela said. “We’d booked a return flight for tonight and it’s really expensive to change.”
“We’re on fixed incomes,” Suzy explained.
“We were going to stay here for Jan, but she wants us to get back to New York and post positive updates about our trip on our website. We need to do some damage control about Debbie and her plans and her murder.”
“Well,” Maggie said, trying to sound nonchalant, “we’ll miss you.”
She bid them good-bye, and then as she walked away, pulled out her cell and texted Bo one word: “HURRY!”
Maggie hastened into the shotgun, eager to update Gran’ on her theory, as well as the morning’s events. The living room was empty. “Gran’?” she called out as she went into the kitchen and got a glass of water. Her throat was scratchy from yelling at the Georgia boys, and the water soothed it. She heard muffled sounds coming from Gran’s room, and ran in. But the bedroom was also empty. “Gran’?” she called again.
“Help!” came Gran’s voice. Maggie traced it to the closet.
“What the—” She ran to the closet and pulled on the doorknob. “It’s locked.”
“I know. I was puttering around, minding my own business when someone threw a pillowcase over my head. They made me get the key to this door, then shoved me in here and locked it.”
“Was it a man or a woman?”
“I couldn’t tell. The voice was very low and rough. It could have been a man, or a woman disguising her voice.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find the key.”
Maggie turned to start the hunt and screamed. Facing her was Emily Butler. She had a Crozat kitchen knife in her hand. Maggie recognized it as one of the sharpest.
“I don’t think you’ll be finding that key,” Emily said in a whisper. “But I’m guessing you did find the stupid drawing of the knight that my stupid husband made.”
Emily poked Maggie with the knife and motioned for her to move into the living room. “I don’t want your grandmother to hear my voice,” Emily said in a venomous whisper. “She could identify me. Tell her you’ll be back when you find the key.”
With a knife jabbing painfully into her stomach, Maggie did as she was told.
“Thank you, dear,” Gran’ said from the closet. “And if you could hurry, that would be wonderful. It’s a bit stuffy in here.”
Emily prodded Maggie into a far corner of the living room, away from the windows. “So did you find it?” She stuck her with the point of the knife so sharply that Maggie felt it draw blood. “The sketch with the knight and his crest that Shane was supposed to throw away. Did you find it? Did you?”
“Yes,” Maggie said quietly.
“That idiot,” Emily said through clenched teeth.
Maggie winced as the knife’s point pocked her skin. The screw was now painfully on the other foot. “So thanks to him,” Emily continued, her tone aggrieved, “I had to figure out a way to fix this. Which, being a problem solver, I’m proud to say I’ve done.”
“Congratulations,” Maggie said. “Any chance it doesn’t involve my death?”
“Ha, ha. Nope. Now, step one—leave your cell phone on the table. And hand over the doodle.”
“That sounded kind of funny.”
“Do it,” Emily hissed with fury.
“And that didn’t.”
Maggie took the balled-up scratch paper and her phone out of her back pocket and placed both on the desk. Emily stuffed the paper into the front pocket of her pants and then took out a dog leash and attached it to Maggie’s belt loop. “This is to make sure you don’t run away.” She secured the leash and then used her weapon to steer Maggie down the shotgun’s long hallway. “Now let’s go out the back door into the woods.”
Maggie had always welcomed the shotgun’s slight isolation, but now she cursed it. The back door opened into the no man’s land of Crozat, a dense area of woods and thicket rarely ventured into by family or guests. “Please,” she said to Emily, “whatever you’re going to do with me, all I ask is that you don’t hurt my grandmother.”
“No worries. You’re a threat; she’s harmless. If she’s lucky, someone will find her before she suffocates in that closet. If not, well, she’s old. She had her life.”
Emily and her knife stayed so close to Maggie as they entered the woods that she could feel the girl’s warm breath on her neck. Twigs snapped and scraped her feet. She’d picked the wrong day to wear flip-flops. Then again, she hadn’t foreseen being the prisoner of a lunatic.
Her heart thumped so loudly that she could hear it. She needed to calm herself so she could think rationally. “It’s interesting how the mind works,” she said, keeping her tone as calm as possible. “My dad and I were talking about keeping secrets and it reminded me of something, but I couldn’t remember what. When I was looking at Shane’s sketch, it came to me. How he said at the Clabbers’ funeral that Mrs. C hadn’t even told Mr. C she’d lived here before. That’s a huge secret. Why would you not share that with your husband but tell a complete stranger? Unless the person you told wasn’t a stranger.”
“Shut up and keep walking,” Emily snapped. Maggie was encouraged by the undercurrent of nervousness in her captor’s rough tone. A vulnerable head case might be more malleable than a confident one.
“That’s why you were always in your room, wasn’t it?” she said. “You were planning the murders.”
“A little. And then we’d have sex. The planning got us hot.”
“Ugh, gross!”
“God, be a prude why don’t you?” Emily said with a smirk.
Maggie silently cursed herself. She’d shown an emotion and now it was advantage, Emily. “Whatever,” she said, resuming her casual tone. “By the way, nice move bringing up how the poison could have been planted earlier. Even when they
found the old box of arsenic from the plantation store, that thought was still on people’s minds.”
“Thanks, but I really can’t take credit for that one. That moron Jan gave me a gift with her speech about how ‘no one here is a murderer.’ Which made it hilarious when the cops thought
she
was.”
“Hilarious. Not exactly a word I’d use in the situation.”
“Jesus, get a sense of humor.”
Maggie and Emily continued to trudge through the woods, but their psychotic chitchat had given Maggie time to think. She slowed down, forcing Emily to slow with her. “You know, there are snakes out here,” she told her captor, hoping to scare her. “Poisonous ones.”
“If you see one, let me know so I can push you on it. Having you die from a snake bite would save me a lot of trouble.”
Well, that was an epic fail
, Maggie thought. “What exactly is your plan for me?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” Emily said, sounding more like she was talking about a birthday party than a murder. “But what the hell. The plan is stab you, then push you in the bayou. By the time anyone finds your body, Shane and I’ll be long gone.”
“Okay, first of all, the definition of bayou is ‘a slow-moving stream,’ so don’t count on my body being quickly carried away to oblivion. And second, Shane’s already gone. I saw him pull out this morning.”
Maggie hoped this news would upset and distract Emily, but instead she just smirked. “Sorry, but he just went to town. He’s being the wonderful husband who wants to buy some
last-minute gifts for his poor wife who got the shock of her life when she discovered a fellow guest’s lifeless body. Nobody’ll suspect us for a minute.”
“Unless they wonder why the same person found two dead bodies—Debbie’s and potentially mine.”
“Hmmm. Good point.” Emily pondered this potential dilemma, and Maggie congratulated herself on derailing the girl’s master plan. “Oooh, I know. We’ll have Shane find your body instead of me. I told you I was a problem solver.”
“Yeah, you’re brilliant,” Maggie shot at Emily. She was frustrated to find herself thwarted again. “Why did you kill Debbie, anyway? I know you did it. You can tell me; I’m going to be dead soon so it’s not like I’ll turn you in.”
“She heard something she shouldn’t have. She told us she’d never tell and actually knew a way to make it work to both our advantages. She wanted to tie our castles into this secret plan she had for the Cuties. You know, create a Castle Cuties group that she could develop and market the same way she planned on capitalizing on the whole Cajun Cutie thing. But she was screwing her own friends, so I didn’t exactly trust her.”
“Nice move stealing and hiding the scarf to implicate Jan in Debbie’s murder.”
“You know, you’re awfully chatty for someone who’s going to die in a few minutes.”
“I’ve never been in this position before,” Maggie said. “To be honest, I think maybe I’m in shock.”
“I looked up the symptoms of shock when I had to pretend I was in shock after killing Debbie. The way you’re acting wasn’t on the list. Maybe you still think you’re going to live.”
Emily stopped, threw her hand over Maggie’s mouth, and gave the knife the deepest thrust yet. Maggie let out a muffled cry. A few tears even escaped, despite her determination to hide her fear and pain. Emily pulled her hand away from Maggie’s mouth and smiled. “That’s better. Now walk.”
The two women trudged through the dense foliage in silence. Sweat dripped into Maggie’s eyes and burned them. “You know,” she said after a few minutes, “there are alligators this way.”
Emily stopped and Maggie sensed she’d finally struck a nerve. “You’re lying,” Emily said.
“Feel free to take that chance.”
They walked a few more steps, and then Emily stopped again. “Is there another way to the bayou?”
Maggie nodded and started in a new direction, Emily and the knife right behind her. They pushed back branches and batted off swarms of mosquitoes as they got closer to the bayou. The ground was uneven and both women stumbled occasionally, but Emily still managed to keep the knife in the small of Maggie’s back even as she clutched her captive’s arm for balance.
“I don’t know how you live in this place,” Emily grumbled. “I can’t wait to get out of here. I can’t wait to get out of America.”
“So that’s the plan? Move into one of your newly inherited estates, Your Highness? Or is that not what you call duchesses? Maybe it’s ‘milady.’ That’s what Beverly Clabber would have been if she’d lived. It’s what she and Hal called each other the one night they were with us. ‘Milord’ and ‘milady.’”
Emily said nothing. She just continued to push Maggie through the woods.
“You may have stolen the rings and brochures from my house, but what you didn’t get were the copies of them that I made,” Maggie continued. “And I stared at those copies long enough to remember where I’d seen the Murray family crest before. On the paper scrap in your room. It was the crest on the knight’s shield. And I thought, could the person who murdered Beverly be next in line for the Dundess inherited peerage? And could that person be you or Shane? My guess, given your family’s background, is that it’s you.”
“Wow,” Emily said. “Way to put things together. I thought you were just some whiny, self-involved artist.”
Maggie was surprised to find herself stung by Emily’s judgment. “I’m going through a hard time, okay?”
“Like I said, whiny. Yeah, it’s me. My dad told me when I was little that we were distantly related to this titled Scottish family, but the odds of us ever inheriting were pretty remote. Then I started doing some genealogy research. The family was a bunch of nut jobs—I mean, literal nut jobs, like they ended up either in loony bins or killing themselves—and there was just one old guy left in Scotland. When my dad died, that meant I was next in line on our side. But then I found out about Beverly, a Murray on her mother’s side. She was one less removed than I was, so she’d be ahead of me, which made me really mad. You know why she changed her name from Francine to Beverly? Because Beverly was the name of the first Duchess of Dundess. What a wannabe.” Emily peered ahead. “I think I see the bayou. God, I never thought we’d get here.”
Maggie stopped short. “Oh, crap.”
“What now?” Emily said, annoyed.
Maggie pointed to what looked like a large piece of wood. “There—a gator.”
“Bull,” Emily scoffed. “That’s a log.”
“Does a log have two eyes? Let’s go—quickly.” Maggie turned abruptly, throwing Emily off balance. As Emily tried to steady herself, Maggie threw her weight into her captor. Emily let go of the leash she’d attached to Maggie, and the knife went flying out of her hand as she fell into the hole that the treasure-hunting Rykers had dug. She clawed at the edge as she pulled herself to standing. It was a surprisingly deep hole, and Emily was in it up to her neck. “My leg,” she screamed. “Oh God, it hurts. I think it’s broken. Help, please. Get me out of here before the alligator sees me.”
Maggie knelt down and got in Emily’s face. “You can just rot here until I come back with the police. Because, guess what? You were right. That
is
a log.”
Maggie stood up, triumphant over her enemy. But Emily still looked terrified. “I’m not talking about that one,” she said, gesturing to the log with her hand. “I’m talking about
that
one.” Emily pointed beyond it to what looked like another log.
Only this one moved.
Maggie stared, frozen in place, as the alligator hefted his enormous body out of the water onto dry land. Emily whimpered, and the gator turned his head toward the women. He eyed them with curiosity.
“What do we do?” Emily asked in a shaky voice.
“Pray that he’s already eaten.”
Emily whimpered again.
“Never show fear to a wild animal,” Maggie snapped at her.
The gator contemplated his next step, which gave Maggie a chance to contemplate hers. As much as she’d love to leave Emily to her fate, she couldn’t bring herself to do that. The gator was moving slowly, as if he had a full belly, but her parents had always warned her not to buy into the misconceptions about a gator’s behavior. Alligators had the ability to move fast on land, and while most avoided human contact, others could
be aggressive. The jury was out on this one, but the fact that he hadn’t retreated back into the water was not a good sign. Maggie regretted not asking her parents for a refresher course on what to do should she actually run into one.
“We need to get out of here,” she told Emily.
Emily, who was waist-deep into the hole, tried to hoist herself out of it, and groaned in pain. “I can’t.”
“Great,” Maggie muttered. “I get to save the woman who wanted to kill me. I better get points for this somewhere.”
She bent down, hooked her arms under Emily’s armpits and with great effort, and pulled her out of the hole. She started to drag a sobbing Emily through the woods but stopped when the gator advanced toward them.
“What’s wrong? Why are you stopping?” Emily asked between sobs.
“Our friend there thinks that you’re my prey and I’m dragging you off to eat. Which only makes you look more delicious to him.”
“Oh my God, I’m gonna die.”
“No you’re not. At least not here. Hopefully in the jail where you’ll be spending the rest of your life.”
“Forget it,” Emily cried. “I’d rather be eaten by the alligator.”
Maggie ignored her and thought for a minute. She and some friends had once gone camping in California’s Sequoia National Park. A park ranger warned the group, “If you’re confronted by a mountain lion, don’t act scared and run. Instead make yourselves appear as large as possible, then yell and scream and act like
you’re
the predators.” Maggie wondered if the same trick might work with an alligator. She dropped Emily, and pulled
herself up to her full height, expanding her physical presence as much as she could.
“Yah!” she screamed at the gator as she waved her arms in a threatening manner. The gator stared at her, and Maggie began to panic that instead of telegraphing “Go away!” her actions were sending the message, “Come ’n get it!” But it was too late to take a different tack, so she continued to yell and stomp around like a lunatic. After what felt like the longest seconds of her life, the gator turned away and slowly slunk back into the water until he was completely submerged.
“You did it,” Emily said. “You got rid of him.”
“Yup,” Maggie said as she started off. “And now I can get rid of you. I’ll be back with the police.”
“Wait,” Emily begged. “Don’t. Let me go and I’ll give you whatever you want. I have money. Or one of the castles. I don’t need both; you can just pick one. They’re both awesome.”
“You have got to be kidding.” Maggie, furious, put her hands on her hips and bent down until she was face to face with Emily. “Can you possibly think that I’d be like, ‘Hey, she murdered two people but I get a castle, so no biggie?’ That is the most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me in my life. How dare you think—”
Maggie’s diatribe was interrupted by the sound of shouting.
“Maggie! Maggie, where are you?”
She instantly recognized the voice. “Here, Bo! By the hole!”
Leaves crunched under the feet of someone running through the woods. Bo yanked some branches out of his way as he emerged from the trees with his gun drawn. Gaynell was right behind him. Both ran up to Maggie.
“Are you all right?” Bo asked.
Maggie nodded yes. “But she’s not,” Maggie said as she pointed to Emily, who was making a futile effort to crawl away. Bo trained his gun on her and she stopped. “Emily murdered Beverly and Debbie, and she was going to kill me too. We have to free Gran’. Emily locked her in the closet in the shotgun.”
She began running toward the shotgun, but Gaynell pulled her back. “Your Grand-mère’s okay,” Gaynell said. “We found her when we went to look for you. Bo used GPS to trace your phone to the shotgun house. Gran’s on the veranda having a Gin Fizz and sharing her story with anyone who’ll listen.”
“Thank God.” Overwhelmed, Maggie sunk to the ground, the drama and danger of the morning finally catching up to her.
Gaynell knelt down and put an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “You can relax. It’s over.”
There was the rhythmic sound of steps in the woods, and they all tensed up. Bo quietly circled, gun at the ready.
“Em?” a voice whispered. “Emily are you there?”
“Shane,” Emily called. “Help! I’m hurt and these people won’t let me go. They think I killed those women.”
Shane shoved his way through a tangle of trees and ran to Emily’s side. “What the hell? Boo Bear, what happened?”
Emily burst into tears that Maggie figured were at least half-real, given her busted leg. “It’s awful. Maggie accused me of murder and chased me into the woods, and I fell in a big hole and I think I broke something.”
Shane whipped around and faced Maggie. “I’m gonna sue your ass off.” Then he turned to Bo. “And have you thrown off the force for police brutality.”
Maggie snorted. “Nice act, Shane.”
Bo held the gun on Shane with one hand and pulled out a pair of cuffs with the other. “You’re both under arrest for the murders of Francine-slash-Beverly Prepoire Roubideaux Walker Clabber and Debra Stern.” He holstered his gun and turned back to Shane. “Hands behind your back.”
“You can’t do this,” Shane said as Bo cuffed him. “It’s false arrest. I’m gonna sue your ass off too.”
The others ignored him. “It’s going to be hard to get a stretcher through these woods,” Maggie said. She motioned to Emily. “Do you think we should carry her or let her put an arm around each of us and have her hop out?”
“Don’t you touch her,” Shane shouted. “She might be pregnant.”
“That’s right,” Emily said. Maggie could see Emily looking for a way to use this to her advantage. “Pregnant suspects need to be treated very carefully.”
“Sorry to break it to you, Emily,” Maggie said. “But we happen to know you’re not pregnant.”
“Yup,” Gaynell said. “We found the negative pee stick in your trash.”
Maggie saw the relief on Shane’s face. Unfortunately for him, so did Emily. And it really ticked her off. “The whole thing was his idea,” she cried out. “He forced me into it.”
Shane stared at her. “What?! Are you out of your mind? You’re the one who came up with the entire plan. You said I’d get my own golf course in Scotland.”
“He’s lying,” Emily sobbed theatrically. “He only wanted me to have a baby as insurance. That way we’d definitely have an heir.”
“No, no way, she’s talking crazy.” Shane’s voice and panic level rose simultaneously. “It was all about the golf course. And hunting. I could hunt in England and Scotland at my mansions, but I wouldn’t have to wear a skirt unless I wanted to, and then I’d have my own, one of those kilt things.” Shane devolved into babbling while Emily continued to hurl blame at him.
Maggie marveled at how quickly the couple had gone from sugary “boo bears” to selling each other out.
Had they ever really cared for each other,
she wondered,
or was their connection solely based on a mutual desire to live out some warped version of a fairy tale replete with duchies and castles?
An ambulance siren wailed in the distance. A moment later, a police siren joined in. Shane turned to face Bo. “It was all her idea, I swear. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, just cut me a deal.”
“Don’t believe him, he’s full of it,” Emily said, her tone vicious.
The sirens grew louder as the ambulance and police cruiser drew closer to Crozat. “As easy as listening to you two incriminate each other makes my job, I’m really not interested in some lovers’ quarrel,” Bo said. “I just want to get your statements and hand you over to the DA.”
The sound of sirens was replaced by screeching tires and slamming doors. Someone called Bo’s name and he yelled back his location. Soon the area was overrun with EMTs and police officers. Bo and Cal Vichet led Shane to the black-and-white while Artie got in the ambulance to escort Emily, now officially under arrest, to the hospital.
“Let’s get you home for some rest and a shower,” Gaynell told Maggie.
“That sounds so good right now.”
As she followed Gaynell out of the woods, she glanced back at the bayou and saw a pair of black eyes staring back at her. The gator’s head then rose just above the water, and Maggie could swear it was grinning at her.