A Rip Roaring Good Time (32 page)

"But, you lied to her. Didn't you?" I asked.

"Of course I lied! Do you think I'm stupid, or something? I told her I'd given it more thought too and already destroyed the cyanide."

"I'm curious. Did you know about Joy's abortion?"

"Abortion? No, what are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing. It's not important. But how did you know Trotter would be at the party?" I asked the clearly disturbed young lady. Alice's face was flushed, the vein in her throat was throbbing in double-time, and even her dilated eyes didn't seem to be blinking at the same time.

"I didn't. For all those years since Tori Piney's death, I've carried the small tin of cyanide around in my purse."

"And gloves, I assume?"

"No, I picked up a pair of the caterer's latex gloves when I went into the kitchen and hid in the pantry, after telling Trotter he could get a mixed drink if he asked Lexie for one. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist."

"And he wanted a Crown and Coke, apparently?"

"Trotter Hayes was a partier and on the verge of being an alcoholic. I doubt he cared what the drink contained as long as it had alcohol in it. Drinking some silly spiked punch was not his style at all though. He stepped right into the trap I'd set for him." Alice was now showing obvious pride in her cunningness in devising such a devious scheme. I found it quite nauseating.

"Lucky for you, huh?" I said, as I glanced over at Rip, who was taking in the conversation silently. I was flattered that he felt I had a good handle on the situation and didn't need his assistance. When I caught Rip's eye, he said, "Don't forget Mattie's due here any second."

The mention of Mattie's name seemed to make her magically appear in the doorway, like a David Copperfield illusion. I'd almost forgotten she was coming over. She'd walked into a situation she hadn't expected and had a puzzled expression on her face.

Mattie Hill really was on our side, and I couldn't have been any happier to discover that
before
I'd launched even a hint of an undeserved accusation at her. The relief that flooded through me at that moment was indescribable. I was so thankful Wendy's best friend wasn't a killer. And I was even more thankful I'd been stopped short of wrongly accusing her of being one. I believe divine intervention occurs at critical times in our lives, and I felt certain this was one of those times.

I was also grateful I hadn't accused Lori Piney of killing Trotter, either. God knew she and her mother had been through enough grief as it was, without having me sling false accusations at her when she was only being kind enough to return Lexie's beloved family heirloom to the inn.

"Go on with your story, Alice. How did the little tin container that had held the poison not get detected by the thorough frisking that the detectives subjected all of us to?" I tried but couldn't resist adding a snide remark. "I'm guessing you enjoyed having that handsome Detective Russell's hands roaming all over your body."

"You really do think I'm an idiot, don't you? If you go in the kitchen right now, you'll find the tin box buried inside the flour canister on the counter. First, with the latex gloves on, I wiped my fingerprints off it with some rubbing alcohol I found in the pantry. I figured the tin, with traces of the poison still in it, would eventually be discovered. But I also figured it would only serve as further evidence it was Lexie Starr who killed Trotter."

"So you deliberately set out to frame Lexie from the beginning?" I asked, incredulously. I was sickened by the fact the nut job was actually boasting about her cleverness in framing an innocent person with her vicious crime.
How could anyone be so mentally deranged that they'd do something so wicked and then wallow in their accomplishment?
I wondered.

"Of course, I did. I had to steer the investigation toward someone besides myself, didn't I? So, anyway, I had previously researched the fatalness of the cyanide and decided I probably didn't have enough to kill anyone. And that's why I took the cake knife off the table and slashed his throat. Then I quickly tossed the gloves in the trash and hurried back to be in position to take the photo. Michael, er, I mean, Detective Russell, told me the chief of police was convinced that Lexie had disposed of the gloves just before the lights came back on since the trashcan was just a couple of feet from where the worthless prick fell with her standing right next to him."

"How did you know there'd be a knife handy for you to use to finish the job?" I asked.

"I'd seen Lori place it by the cake earlier, before they turned the lights off, and was relieved to find it still there in the dark. I'd only hoped to have the photos to be able to prove I was nowhere near his body at the time. Lexie Starr leaving her blood on the knife and walking up to Trotter when she did were just unexpected strokes of good fortune."

"Well, Alice, those unexpected strokes weren't very fortuitous for my friend, and now your recorded confession is not going to be such a stroke of good fortune for you, either." The callous killer showing such delight in having the blame placed on Lexie instead of herself had rubbed me the wrong way, and now I was going to take even greater delight in turning her over to the police.

Looking as if she'd just been struck in the face with a cast-iron skillet, Alice's personality disorder took a turn for the worse. She sneered at me when she said, "I ain't going down for this, lady. If you think I'm going to jail for killing that jackass, you're in for a rude awakening. I've got a church bazaar to attend next Monday, and a restaurant to run, for starters. And, I don't believe they serve vegan cuisine at the state pen."

I'd thought Alice had been experiencing a great deal of mental instability, and she proved just how unstable she was when she reached into the bag hanging over her shoulder and pulled out a shiny handgun. I'm sure Rip recognized the model immediately. I knew she wouldn't hesitate to use it on us, but I was also afraid it'd misfire if we tried to get the gun away from her. She aimed the weapon at me first, then Mattie, and finally Rip. Alice continued to wave it back and forth between us.

Alice had a crazed look on her face when she continued speaking. "I lied about not realizing you knew Wendy's family. The night of the party, I saw you chatting with Lexie on several occasions before I killed Trotter. So after you'd asked me those supposedly innocent questions at the diner that day, I had a premonition that made me uneasy. I couldn't get over the feeling that you never really wanted to work at Zen's Diner in the first place, but were just using it as an excuse to question me. I slipped my Glock into my purse before I left to bring Wendy's present over, just in the event something like this confrontation were to take place. And believe me, folks, as you should be aware of by now, I'm not afraid to use this gun."

I froze, but my cool and collected husband calmly advised her to lower her weapon. He said, "Alice, honey, don't be silly. Put the gun down. You don't want to make this situation even worse for yourself by killing three more people. They might go easy on you for the impassioned killing of Trotter, but adding three more point-blank murders to your list of crimes will get you the death penalty almost without question. And don't fool yourself into thinking you're going to get away with this."

"Who's going to know I've even been here? You don't actually think I plan to leave any witnesses, do you?"

"They won't need witnesses, my dear," I said before Rip could reply to the question. "I'm certain the Alexandria Inn's new state-of-the-art security system will have a clear video of your arrival, and will film your departure, as well. There are multiple strategically-placed cameras around the perimeter of the building which are operating 24/7."

I glanced over at Rip just long enough to see him roll his eyes and shake his head in disbelief before I continued. I thought my detailed description of the high-tech system sounded very credible so I continued to elaborate. "When any of the nine cameras detect a body in motion, a facial recognition program automatically activates. If the individual's face is not on the list of approved visitors, the police department is notified and the video files are instantly transmitted to their computer. I can assure you the cops are already in possession of the evidentiary files and are on their way here, young lady."

I knew the inn's "state-of-the-art" security system actually consisted of a cheap worthless chain and a regular locking doorknob that Rip could pick in five seconds with a credit card, but I was hoping my B.S. would fool this loony tune who was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs to begin with. I doubted anyone in the county had a system like I'd just described. Now if the White House really
had
been relocated to downtown Rockdale instead of the new Panera Bread, it might have been a different story.

I was quite proud of my ingeniously fabricated remarks, so naturally disappointed when Alice responded with a rude laugh and said, "Yeah, right!"

The crazed nut job was obviously not as dim-witted as I'd given her credit for. She continued to wave the gun back and forth. I'm sure she was considering the ramifications of her actions and mentally going over the pros and cons of shooting us. I didn't think she was a natural born killer, or we'd have already been bleeding out on the floor, almost exactly where her first victim had done the same thing. The thought crossed my mind that the gun might not even be loaded. She could be bluffing, or possibly not even know how to check if there were bullets in the clip or if the safety was off. But there was no safe way to test that theory, so I operated under the assumption that both the gun and Alice were prepared and ready to fire. I figured just the fact she owned a gun was a good sign she was familiar with how to use it.

One thing was obvious that didn't bode well for Rip, Mattie and me. Alice was in dire straits, and her inherent insanity could cause her to do anything, no matter how drastic, in order to save her own skin. I'd antagonized Alice to the point she was threatening to kill the three of us, so I felt it might be an opportune time to let the seasoned law enforcer in the room take over.

Alice held us at bay for another five minutes while Rip attempted to calm her down and reason with her, rubbing his right hip as he spoke. She seemed to become more and more irrational and distraught with each moment that passed. My husband might have been able to talk a kitten down from a tall tree, but he wasn't having much luck talking the bats out of Alice's belfry. And I knew if I held my breath any longer I was going to turn the color of the brick fireplace across the room from the four of us.

Mattie, Rip, and I were standing to one side of the piano, and Alice was standing on the other. Finally Rip told her, "Honey, if you want to kill me, then kill me. But in the meantime I'm going to have to sit down. My hip hurts so badly right now that I won't be able to hold myself up much longer." Without even waiting for Alice's response, Rip walked slowly toward the piano bench, steadying himself with his cane. He must have known instinctively she wouldn't shoot him if he walked toward her in a non-threatening fashion. She kept the Glock pointed directly at him, and he made a point of showing no intention of trying to take her down.

Rip had moved so sluggishly toward the bench that I was as surprised as Alice when he suddenly grasped his end of the bench and thrust it as forcefully as he could in her direction, which was approximately five feet from the other end of the bench. In reaction to his sudden movement, Alice turned away at the last instant, just before the bench hit her squarely in the knees and caused her to topple forward. I could hear the crunch of the wooden bench against the bone of Alice's kneecaps. As she'd tried to retain her balance, the gun had flown out of her hand and hit the face of the piano so hard it had discharged upon impact.

I saw Mattie dive under the piano and heard Rip and Alice gasp in pain almost simultaneously. I knew the bullet had struck my husband, but I didn't know where, or how seriously he'd been hurt. But I had no time to check it out right then. Alice was reaching for the gun again, which was several feet closer to her than it was to Rip or me. Despite his gunshot wound, Rip stretched his left arm out with his cane and whisked the gun out of her reach just as her fingers made contact with the barrel. It flew off the piano keys in my direction, and bounced after it hit the hardwood floor. Out of self-preservation and pure instinct, I dove on the loaded weapon.

It crossed my mind briefly that all those snickering, spandex-clad, pole-dancing floozies would have been amazed and impressed at the agility I'd just exhibited. With the massive amount of adrenalin coursing through my body, I could have performed the upside-down "grasshopper" flawlessly, or even lifted a burning concrete truck off of Dolly. Considering her ever-increasing weight, perhaps I should say lift Dolly off a burning concrete truck.

I watched Alice struggle to pull herself up to her feet using the piano bench as support. A few seconds later, Alice lunged unsteadily in my direction in a desperate attempt to wrestle the weapon away from me. Using all the force I could muster, I cracked her in an already wounded kneecap with the butt of the gun, all-the-while hoping it didn't accidentally discharge again and blow my nose off in the process. I heard a shattering of glass along with the thud of the gun against Alice's knee. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lori Piney standing in the doorway with her hands over her mouth and the blue Anchor Hocking bowl in pieces at her feet. She had walked into the room unaware of the mayhem taking place in the parlor.

As Alice Runcan fell to the floor, I heard her scream, Rip moan, Mattie shout out, Lori gasp, and Wyatt holler, "Freeze! Police!" at the exact same moment. Unbeknownst to all five of us, the detective had rushed in through the parlor door in reaction to the sound of the gunshot he'd heard as he was walking up the front steps into the inn. Wyatt could not have had any idea what he was going to walk into when he entered the house, but after sixteen years on the force, his extensive training had taken over.