A Catered Thanksgiving (24 page)

I
t took ten minutes to get everyone up and down to the study. Bernie looked at the assembled crew. They did not look their personal best, but then she reckoned that she and Libby didn't, either.

Libby watched Bernie watching everyone. The men looked as if they'd had a rough night's sleep. None of them had shaved, and Bob and Audie were wearing pajama bottoms, T-shirts, and hoodies, as was Melissa, while Ralph and Perceval were wearing slacks and flannel shirts. Greta and Lexus, on the other hand, had both been dressed and had had their make-up on when Bernie and Libby had come knocking on their doors. In fact, everyone had been up except for Melissa, who had been sound asleep.

“So what's this about?” Perceval asked.

Ralph smoothed down his hair with the palm of his hand. “It better be important.”

“It is,” Bernie said. She moved to the center of the room and made the announcement she and Libby had agreed on. They'd decided to impart their information in stages. It seemed easier to control things that way.

No one keeled over or ran from the room or jumped up and cried, “The son of a bitch deserved it,” when Bernie told everyone about Geoff. But then Libby hadn't expected they would. In her experience most people didn't do that kind of thing. Unfortunately.

“So Geoff didn't kill Monty,” Perceval said.

“Probably not,” Bernie allowed.

No one said anything for thirty seconds; then Melissa started to screech.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” Melissa cried.

Talk about a delayed reaction,
Bernie thought as she watched Melissa's lower lip quiver and her eyes begin to fill with tears.

“This is my fault,” Melissa said.

“What is?” Bernie asked.

Melissa snuffled in response.

“What is your fault?” Bob repeated.

Bernie thought he looked annoyed.

“Everything,” Melissa said. “The whole thing.” And she covered her face with her hands and began to sob.

“For God's sake, Melissa,” Lexus cried. “This is bad enough without you going off the deep end. Stop sniveling and talk to us.”

This was met with a fresh bout of crying from Melissa.

“She probably has nothing to say,” Greta said. “She's just doing this to get our attention.”

“My brother is dead,” Melissa managed to get out between sobs. “How can you talk to me like that?”

“We know what he is,” Greta said.

Perceval absentmindedly fiddled with the top button on his flannel shirt. “I don't suppose you've found my cell phone, have you?” he asked Bernie.

Lexus turned on him. “What is the matter with you?” she snapped. “We've already established that someone has taken all of them and put them who knows where.” She shuddered. “Probably the same person that killed Geoff.” She glared at Libby and Bernie. “I thought you were going to protect us. Stand watch. Or do whatever it is you were supposed to do. Instead, look what happened. We all could have died.”

“But we didn't,” Greta shot back. She looked at Bernie. “Is there any coffee in this place?”

Bernie nodded. “I'll go make it.”

She could certainly use some more, that was for sure, and she wanted to give everyone a chance to calm down before she made her second announcement. She went into the kitchen, while Libby stayed behind to keep an eye on the Field family. At least, Libby thought, it had stopped snowing. Which meant the police should be here soon. Hopefully, they'd have some answers for them when they arrived.

Bernie reappeared fifteen minutes later with a tray full of coffee things. By that time Melissa's sobs had been reduced to quiet snuffles. Bernie waited until everyone had helped themselves to the coffee and had settled down. Then she dropped her second bomb.

“Monty had a son with Alma,” she said, watching everyone's reaction.

“That's ridiculous,” Lexus said.

“Total nonsense,” Ralph said.

“Absolutely,” Perceval agreed.

“Why do you say that?” Greta asked.

Bernie took out the letter and read it aloud.

“So what?” Perceval said. “Alma was bothering him. That's all that letter says. The part about Monty mistreating Alma's son is absurd. How could you possibly get that he was Monty's son from that? No wonder he called INS on her. I would have, too.”

Bernie handed him the photograph of Alma's son.

“What do I need to look at this for? It isn't as if I haven't seen the kid before.”

“Notice the chin,” Bernie said.

“So?”

“It recedes slightly.”

“So do a lot of other people's.” And he handed the photo to Ralph.

“I have to agree with my brother. Lots of people have chins like that,” Ralph remarked before handing the picture on to Lexus.

“What's your point?” Lexus said.

Greta nibbled on her lower lip. “Do you think the kid killed Geoff and Monty?” she asked Bernie.

“Don't be an idiot,” Ralph snapped. “The INS got both of them. They came to the house.”

“Were you here?” Greta asked.

“No. I was down at the bunker, working, which is something that some of us do from time to time.”

“Then how do you know?” Greta insisted.

“Melissa told me,” Ralph replied.

Greta turned to Melissa. “Well?” she asked her.

Melissa opened her mouth and closed it and started sobbing again.

“Stop it!” Greta yelled.

“I can't,” Melissa said. “I can't. I'll never forgive myself. Never.” Which brought on a fresh bunch of sobs. Only now she was hiccuping as well.

Bernie knelt in front of her and took her hands. “Did you know that Alma's son was your half brother?”

Melissa raised her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.

“How did you know?”

“He…he…told me. It was our secret.”

“Did he tell Geoff, too?”

Melissa shook her head. “He wouldn't do that. He hated him.”

“Why?”

Melissa looked down at the floor.

Bernie let go of Melissa's hands, took out the note she'd found in Geoff's pants, and showed it to Melissa. “Do you know what this means?” she asked.

Melissa bit her lip and nodded.

“What?” Lexus screamed.

Melissa shrank into herself.

Libby held up her hand. “Lexus, give her a minute and she'll answer, won't you, Melissa?”

“I have to go to work,” Melissa said in a barely audible voice.

“Please answer the question,” Libby said.

Melissa stared straight ahead. “They need me at the hospital.”

“I'm sure they'll be able to manage until you can get there,” Bernie told her.

Melissa swallowed. “It was the ferret,” she finally said.

Everyone had to lean in to hear.

“What ferret?” Perceval said.

“The one that Roberto was keeping.”

“Here? In this house?” Libby asked.

“Impossible,” Perceval said. “I never saw it.”

“You never saw lots of things. He had it upstairs in his room. We used to play with it.”

“And,” Libby prompted when Melissa fell silent.

“And then one day it bit Geoff and Geoff told our dad.” Melissa stopped.

“So Monty got rid of it?” Libby asked.

Melissa nodded. “It was bad.”

“How bad?” Libby asked.

Melissa bit her lower lip so hard that Libby could see the tooth marks on it.

“Go on,” Bernie urged.

Melissa nodded again. “He stomped on it with his boot, and he made Roberto watch. Gracie was his most favorite thing in the whole world.”

“What did Alma do?” Libby asked.

“Alma didn't do anything. She told him she couldn't. That he should have been more careful.”

Bernie straightened up. “That's awful, but I still don't see how your dad's and your brother's deaths are your fault.”

“Because I helped him.”

“You helped Roberto?” Libby asked.

“Yes.”

“What do you mean, you helped him?” Bernie said. “You helped him kill your father and your brother?”

“No,” Melissa cried. Two small red blotches appeared on both of her cheeks. “I helped Roberto hide from the INS. I helped him all the time he was here. I brought him food.”

“Even after he killed your father?” Libby said.

Tears fell down Melissa's cheeks. “I didn't think he did that. He told me he hadn't. I thought Lexus did.”

“How could—,” Lexus began, but Bernie shut her down with a stare.

Bernie turned back to Melissa. “Where is he now?”

“I don't know. I swear I don't know,” Melissa cried, and she got up and ran out of the room.

Libby and Bernie ran after her.

“W
ait!” Libby cried.

Melissa kept going. Finally, Libby and Bernie caught up with her near the basement stairs.

Bernie grabbed Melissa by the shoulders and spun her around. “Where is Roberto?”

“I don't know.”

“And I don't believe you,” Bernie replied.

“It's the truth.”

“We need to know,” Bernie said, keeping her voice level.

“I can't.”

“Why can't you?” Bernie asked.

“Because I love him,” Melissa cried.

“If you love him, you'll tell us where he is before the police get here,” Libby told her. “We'll be a lot nicer.”

“I can't,” Melissa said. “I just can't.”

Bernie looked her in the eye. “You can and you will.”

Melissa shook her head, avoiding her gaze.

“Is he hiding in the attic?” Libby asked.

“No.”

“In one of the bedrooms?” Bernie asked.

“I told you, I can't tell you,” Melissa cried. She covered her face with her hands and began sobbing again.

Bernie took Melissa's hands away from her face. “You don't have to say anything. All you have to do is nod.”

Melissa blinked.

“Is he on the first floor?” Bernie asked.

Melissa looked straight ahead.

“Is he in the garage?”

Nothing.

“The basement? He's in the basement, isn't he? That's where you were going.”

Melissa nodded ever so slightly.

Bernie dropped Melissa's hands. “Thanks,” she said.

“He's wounded,” Melissa said. “He's bleeding. Please don't hurt him.”

“If he doesn't try to hurt us, we won't try and hurt him,” Libby said.

“You swear?”

“Yes, we do,” Libby said.

Melissa nodded again. “Because he's dopey from the pain pills I've been giving him.” She looked at her watch. “I have to change the dressing on his wound.”

“We'll meet you down there,” Bernie said.

“No,” Melissa cried. “You'll scare him. Let me just get my kit, and we'll go down together.”

“It'll be fine,” Bernie said, opening the basement door. She'd had enough of waiting.

She and Libby walked down the short, steep flight of steps to the basement.

“Do you smell gas?” Bernie asked as they descended. She held on to the railing, because the poor light made it difficult to see and the steps were uneven.

“Very faintly,” Libby replied.

Bernie squinted, trying to see Roberto in the gloom. But she didn't. Maybe, she thought, Roberto managed to crawl away somewhere, so he couldn't be that badly injured. Then it occurred to her that Melissa could have lied about his whereabouts. That was a possibility, too.

“I don't see him,” she said to Libby. “I don't think he's here.”

Libby was just going to suggest that maybe Roberto was behind the hot water heater when she heard the snick of the lock on the basement door, which alerted her that the door had closed. She cursed and ran up the stairs and pushed on the door. It didn't open. Bernie joined her. The door didn't budge. It was locked. Libby started pounding on it and yelling.

“Save your breath,” Bernie told her after a couple of minutes went by. “They can't hear you from the study.”

“So we're locked in?” Libby said. She rubbed the sides of her hands. They were sore from beating on the door.

“Until someone comes to get us.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

Bernie sucked in air and let it out. “So do I, Libby. So do I.”

“Dad would never have gotten himself in this situation.”

“Don't remind me.” Bernie repinned her hair. “God, Melissa is good. She played us like a champ.”

“And we went right along.”

“I wonder where Roberto is.”

“Not here. So what do we do now?” Libby asked.

Bernie shrugged. “I guess sit on the steps and wait for someone to let us out and hope that it doesn't take too long.” And she turned and walked down to the bottom step. “Or maybe not.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“That.” And Bernie pointed.

Libby followed her finger. There were large bundles of fireworks set a foot apart over by the wall on the left-hand side.

“And that.” Bernie pointed to the wall on the right-hand side. “And that,” she said, indicating the middle wall. Both of the other walls had fireworks lined up against them. The whole basement was ringed with fireworks.

“Right,” Libby said. Her stomach began twisting into a knot. “They weren't there when we came down before.”

“No, they weren't.”

“So I guess they're not being stored here.”

“I don't think so.” Bernie pointed to the balloons lolling around on the floor next to them. “Just like I don't think those are for a party.”

Libby's stomach did a flip. “The balloons are filled with gas, aren't they?”

“It would appear so,” Bernie said as she moved toward them. The closer Bernie got to the balloons, the stronger the smell of gas. She picked one up. It was heavy. She put it down again very carefully.

“What are the balloons for?” asked Libby.

“When they go off, they'll trigger the fireworks, which will collapse the walls of the house.”

Libby swallowed. “Are you sure?”

“I'm positive.”

“Do you think Melissa knew about this when she locked us down here?”

“No. I don't think so. I mean, why would she blow up her own house with all that artwork in it?”

“That's true, but it must have taken whoever did this…”

“I'm thinking Roberto…”

“Okay, Roberto a while to do this.”

“Evidently not that long,” Bernie said.

“How can Melissa not know?” asked Libby.

“Maybe she hasn't been down here,” Bernie responded. “Maybe she lied about Roberto being down here. Maybe she just said that to give Roberto time to get away. But it doesn't really matter, because what we have to be talking about is how to get the hell out of here before we're blown to kingdom come.”

Libby's stomach did another flip. “How is Roberto going to light up the balloons?”

“My guess is that he's either going to use a remote detonator or he's going to fire a rocket in through one of those windows.” And Bernie gestured toward the three small windows set high up on the left-hand wall. Each window was divided into six small panes of glass. They in turn were held in place by a metal frame.

“Then let's find the detonator,” Libby said.

Bernie shook her head. “Remember, I said remote. As in not here.”

“Let's try the door again.”

Bernie shook her head again. She'd already thought about it and discarded that option. The door had a solid lock and a metal frame with hinges that were set on the outside. There was no way they were going to get it open without a pry bar and more muscle than either she or Libby possessed. “I think the windows are our best bet.”

“I don't think we're going to fit.”

“Oh yes, we will,” Bernie said. “We have to.” She walked over and carefully examined them. “At least the metal is rusted. So that's a good thing. But then we're going to have to dig our way through the snow.”

Libby thought that they'd worry about that problem when they came to it. Right now they needed something to stand on. She looked around and caught sight of an old bike lying in the far corner of the basement. She went and got it while Bernie carefully moved the fireworks underneath the window to the other side of the basement. Libby stood the bike along the wall and went to look for something to break the window with. She found a spade buried underneath a pile of old newspapers, brought it back, and showed it to Bernie.

“That should work,” Bernie said.

She climbed on the seat of the bike while Libby held it steady. When Bernie was ready, Libby handed her the spade.

“Just don't cut yourself,” Libby warned.

“I'll be happy if that's the worst that will happen to me,” Bernie told her as she carefully used the end of the spade to knock the glass out of the metal frame. Then she handed the spade to Libby, grasped the metal edges of the window frame, and pulled. She could feel the frame start to move. She pulled harder. It began to loosen up.

“Let me,” Libby said.

She and Bernie changed places.

Libby pulled as hard as she could. The frame popped out, and Libby fell backward onto the floor. “Ta da,” she cried, holding it up.

Bernie got back on the bike and began to dig the snow away from the opening. By the time she was done, she was covered with the stuff and there was a mound of snow on the floor, but she could wiggle through to the outside. Once she was outside, she lay down on her stomach and extended her hand to Libby, who was balancing on the seat of the bicycle, and pulled her through to the outside.

“I'm going to kill Roberto when I find him,” Bernie gasped out as they lay in the snow.

“Include me in.”

Thirty seconds later Bernie managed to sit up. “We have to get everyone out of the house. We have to do that now.”

Libby nodded. Her arms were aching, and her fingers were raw and bleeding, and she was feeling light-headed from breathing in the gas fumes. She wanted nothing more than to stay where she was, but she knew that she couldn't. They had to get back and warn the others. They were rounding the bend to the front door when they saw a figure in the snow. It was dressed in black and carrying a Roman candle.

“Roberto!” Libby cried.

She and Bernie moved toward him. He noticed and began moving faster. Bernie and Libby picked up their pace. The snow was heavy and deep, and Libby felt as if they were wading through treacle, but they were closing the distance. They were a little less than a foot away when Bernie made a flying leap and tackled Roberto. They both fell in the snow. The Roman candle rolled away, and Libby grabbed it. She turned back to find that Bernie was straddling the figure. Libby went over and ripped off his mask.

Bernie blinked. “Melissa?”

“I am El Huron,” Melissa replied.

“You are Melissa Field.”

“I am El Huron.” Melissa had lowered her voice almost a full octave.

“Why did you try and blow us up?” Bernie asked her.

Melissa licked her lips. “El Huron serves the cause of justice.”

“Did you kill your dad?” Bernie asked.

Melissa smiled and said nothing.

“Your brother?” Libby asked.

“El Huron serves the cause of truth,” Melissa said.

“Where's Roberto?” Bernie asked.

Melissa remained silent. Her hand crept toward her pants pocket. El Huron was prepared. El Huron was always prepared. El Huron had a gravity knife in there. It was an old but useful weapon. El Huron slowly brought it out of her pocket.
La morena
was not looking. It would be a simple matter of stabbing her. The stomach was best.

Bernie caught the movement of Melissa's wrist and saw the glint of something in her hand.

“Help!” she cried to Libby as she grabbed for the knife.

Libby leaned over and caught Melissa's hand and tried to pry her fingers off the handle, but Melissa was stronger than she was.

“I'm trying,” Libby told Bernie, but she could feel herself losing ground.

“Try harder,” Bernie said. She looked at Libby, and then she looked back at Melissa and socked Melissa as hard as she could in the jaw.

Melissa dropped the knife and Libby picked it up. Then she grabbed Melissa's hands.

She was telling Bernie they needed something to tie Melissa up with when she heard the noise of a motor. She looked up to see a Sno-Cat racing toward them. It halted in front of them, and Brandon and Marvin jumped out.

Brandon bowed. “At your service, madam.”

“The cavalry has arrived,” Marvin added.

“Oh my God!” Bernie cried. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Your dad got worried when he couldn't reach you, so he called me, and I called Marvin, and he called a friend who had a Sno-Cat, and here we are,” Brandon told her.

“So who is the woman you were just punching?” Marvin asked Bernie.

“This is Melissa Field,” Bernie replied, “and she killed her father and brother and was just about to blow up the whole house with everyone in it.”

Melissa looked up from the snow. “I am El Huron, the righter of wrongs.”

“You're Melissa.” Libby said.

“No. I have sought justice for my mother.”

“Oh, shut up,” Bernie said and punched her again.