Acts of Violets (33 page)

My wrists were burning from my efforts to free myself, and I knew the skin had been rubbed raw, but the binding was stretching at last, so I gritted my teeth and pulled my hands as far apart as I could. “I’m so sorry about Daisy,” I said, trying to keep her distracted, “but there’s nothing we can do about that here. Why don’t we go look for another dog? There are so many animals at the humane society that need loving homes.”

“I don’t want another dog,” she said tersely. She closed the box, placed it back on the top shelf, and shut the cabinet door, then turned to face me, her moment of lucidity gone. “You shouldn’t have entered this unholy place. You’ve become tainted.” She dangled the jar in front of me. “And now you must be purged.”

My heart lurched in terror as Eudora knelt down at my side, her wooden mask with its fierce grimace very near mine, her breath shallow. She was too close for me to use my feet against her. I had to try to talk my way out.

“Eudora, please! I’m not tainted. I have a healthy aura, remember? I can shrug off those evil spirits anytime. Poisoning me won’t solve anything. It’s just wrong, Eudora. Besides, Sgt. Reilly from the New Chapel Police Department will be here any minute, and if you poison me, you’ll be punished. You’ll go to jail. No more masks or robes to protect you.”

Beads of perspiration gathered between my breasts as she placed the open jar beside me, then dipped her fingertip inside and coated it with the powder. “This won’t poison you. It will only cleanse you.” She began to chant again, this time invoking ancient deities, immortals, goddesses, and even the ghost of Christmas past.

My heart beat frantically as she drew a cross on my forehead, traced circles around my eyes, then drew a line down the center of my nose to my upper lip. I shook my head, pressing my lips together to keep the powder out of my mouth. There was no way I was going to reason with her now. She was too far gone. I had to act.

When she dipped her finger into the jar a second time, I rolled onto my side away from her, pivoting on one hip, jerking back my knee and driving my shoe against her as hard as I could. I landed a strong kick against her side, knocking her onto her back and upsetting the jar.

“No!” she screeched, scrambling to her knees to sweep up the powder with her hands. “You don’t know what you’ve done! Now
everything
must be purged!”

I scooted toward the doorway that led to the living room but made it only as far as the kitchen table before she came after me. I tried to swing my legs around in time to fend her off, but she was swifter, grabbing my head from behind and slamming it against the floor. I fought back a wave of nausea and gulped air so I wouldn’t black out again, only to have her snatch my knit cap and force a fistful of it into my mouth. Then she hauled me upright, lifted a leg of the table, and inserted it between my back and my bound hands.

Dazed and gagged, I watched helplessly as she pulled newspapers from the bag near the door, balled them up, and placed them around the perimeter of the kitchen. She put more on the counter and even on top of the pots in the sink. Then she held the candle flame to the window curtain and watched as it caught fire. Ryson’s old house was a tinderbox. If I didn’t act swiftly I’d be burned alive.

I pushed my tongue against the wool in my mouth until I could shake my head and make the cap fall out. “Eudora, please, stop what you’re doing and put out that fire. Listen to me. You can’t bring back your dog, or make your pain go away, or chase away the evil spirits by burning down this house. But I can help you. Just untie me, please, before we both die.”

As though in a trance, Eudora stared at the burning curtain until the fire reached the top of the window and the frame began to smolder. Then she moved to the first ball of paper on the floor and knelt to light it.

My breath was coming in short, frightened gasps as Eudora continued around the room, lighting wads of paper that flared quickly, then curled and turned to ash, filling the room with a thin gray haze. I cast a panicky glance at the paint on the wall and saw it start to blister. It wouldn’t take long before the walls themselves caught fire.

“Eudora, stop!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

She wasn’t listening. I had to get help before the whole house was ablaze. Where was my cell phone? In my pocket?

I ducked my head under the table, then pushed up against the underside, raising it until the table leg was in the air, then I slid my hands down and under the plastic tip at the bottom, releasing my arms. As Eudora worked her way toward the sink with her candle, I pulled against the binding at my wrists with so much force that I peeled away the skin on the back of one hand. But my hands were free! I nearly cried in relief.

Suddenly, with a loud
whoosh
, the wood trim around the window burst into flame, lighting up the kitchen and sending plumes of thick, black smoke to the ceiling, where it hovered like a storm cloud. There wasn’t time to use my phone. I had to get that cake out.

Afraid to breathe the hot, smoky air, I pulled my T-shirt over my nose and mouth and darted toward the cabinet. Eudora saw me and ran at me with a scream of fury, holding the candle like a shield in front of her, making the flame sputter and go out. I struck out with my right foot and sent it straight into her middle, doubling her over with a grunt of pain.

As she fell to her knees I grabbed her mask and tossed it aside. “Get out, Eudora!”

Stunned, she rolled onto her back and lay gazing up at me with blank eyes. Without her mask Eudora was merely a plain, middle-aged woman with sagging skin at her throat and dark hollows under her eyes. The only sign of her madness was a thick, red, ropelike scar in the shape of a perfect cross on her forehead.

I nudged her with my shoe. “Eudora, hurry. We have to get out of here.” But she continued to lie there, so I pulled my shirt over my face and dashed for the cabinet. I’d have to get the cake, then come back for her. I opened the cabinet door and rose onto tiptoe, stretching over the smoldering newspaper on the counter, as though I’d somehow grown three inches in the past ten minutes. Damn! I’d forgotten how high that top shelf was.

Loud pops brought my head up with a jerk. The ceiling over the window was ablaze and a line of fire was spreading rapidly across the room. I blinked burning ash from my eyes and dropped to my knees. I could barely see or draw a breath. How was I going to get the cake? Was there time to drag over a kitchen chair?

The back door burst open with a crash, sending a gust of air into the room that momentarily cleared away the haze, then made the fire rage harder. Two dim figures appeared in the doorway, and in the distance I could bear sirens.

“Abby!” came a shout. It was Marco. Dear Marco, my knight in shining armor. Thank God. He’d be able to reach the top shelf.

Eudora struggled to her knees as powerful flashlight beams lit up the foggy room. “Help me,” she rasped, stretching out an arm.

The figures moved into the room. “Abby!” Marco called again.

“I’m over here—to your left. I need help, Marco. There’s a cake in here that will clear you, but I can’t reach it.”

“The ceiling is going to collapse,” Reilly shouted. “You need to get out now!”

“Not without the cake. Hurry, Marco.” I crouched near the floor as the smoke grew thicker. My eyes watered and even through the cotton shirt over my face I could feel my nose stinging with each inhaled breath.

Long legs appeared through the haze and suddenly Marco’s face was in front of mine, a white mask over his nose. “Get out now!” he shouted over the roar of the flames.

I pointed to the open cabinet. “White box. Top shelf.”

“I’ll get it. Crawl to the door. Go!”

Then other arms reached for me and I was pulled across the floor and out into the backyard, where medics whisked me across the yard and put me on a portable gurney. I raised my head from the makeshift bed, anxiously watching the back door as firefighters ran past, pulling heavy hoses, until at last Marco came out carrying the singed white box.

I cried hoarsely, “Marco, be careful. The cake is poisoned. It’s in the frosting.” My voice gave out and all I could do was gesture. But Marco got it. He turned the box over to Reilly and the two held a hurried conversation. The medics gave me something cool to drink, then fastened an oxygen mask over my nose. I eased my aching head against the paper-covered pillow and let them bandage my hands and wrists.

Then at once Marco was there, his white mask dangling around his neck. He gathered me in his arms, oxygen line and all, and whispered fiercely, “Thank God you’re all right.”

Tears misted my blurry gaze and my throat hurt when I spoke, but I needed to make him understand. “Eudora was poisoning Ryson with castor bean seeds. She ground them up and sprinkled them in the cake frosting. The plant is in her kitchen. Now we can prove you didn’t kill Ryson.”

“You risked your life for a cake?”

My throat tightened and tears spilled down my face. “Not for a cake, you idiot. For you.”

“I know,” he whispered, and although my vision was clouded, I thought there were tears in his eyes, too.

“We’re going to take you to the hospital to check you out,” one of the EMTs told me.

I nodded. My throat felt as though it was on fire, and my eyes hurt so much I could barely keep them open.

“Is she okay?” I heard a familiar voice growl.

I lifted the plastic cup to croak, “You’re late, Reilly.”

He showed me his watch, but I couldn’t bring it into focus. “It’s nine o’clock,” he said. “I’m right on time.”

I blinked up at him in astonishment. How could that have happened? I tried to check my own watch but couldn’t make out the numbers.

Marco leaned over for a look, tapped the front, then put his ear against it. “Looks like you’ve got a dead battery.”

It was my fault, not Reilly’s. All I could do was shake my head in disbelief. If it hadn’t been so frightening, it might have been funny. “Sorry,” I whispered, feeling like an idiot.

Reilly patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got the cake and we have Eudora. She’s being taken to the psych ward.”

“Her husband,” I rasped. “Is he here?”

“From what we can make of Eudora’s rambling, he’s bowling. Get to the hospital now. I’ll be there shortly to get a statement from you.”

I caught Reilly’s shirtsleeve and motioned for him to bend close. “Why did you bring Marco here? What if Captain You-Know-Who shows up?”

“Would you stop worrying? We knew what we were doing.” He patted the gurney. “Okay, boys, take her away.”

Marco walked alongside me as I was wheeled to the street, where I could see a line of flashing red and blue lights, hulking fire trucks, and yellow-jacketed figures running toward the house, which was now fully ablaze. As the medic settled me in for the ride to the hospital and the driver prepared to shut the back door, Marco took a seat on the bench beside me, a smudge of dark hair and tanned skin to my burning eyes.

His hand stroked the side of my face as the ambulance pulled away, siren blaring. “How are you doing, Sunshine?” he asked tenderly.

I whispered through the plastic, “Glad to see you.”

“Believe me, I can’t tell you how glad I was to see you, too—alive. What I’d like to know is why you didn’t tell me what you were planning this evening. You’re damn lucky you mentioned it to Reilly.”

“I
couldn’t
tell you. This was too important—my last chance to prove your innocence. Besides, you would have insisted on coming with me, and I didn’t want to put you at risk. Anyway, I was afraid I might not pull it off. I didn’t want to let you down.”

“Let me down?” He gazed at me with eyes full of gratitude. “You would never let me down, Abby. I’m a lucky man to have you on my side.”

Those words were music to my ears. And with that music playing in my head and settling deep into my heart, I surrendered to the overwhelming urge to sleep.

F
or a short while my curtained cubicle in the emergency room teemed with people in white coats whose faces were blobs to me because of the ointment in my eyes. Now, finally I was alone, lying in a bed and covered by a thin blanket, wearing a blue gown that tied in the back. Luckily, I no longer needed the oxygen mask, although the doctor was still awaiting results from the chest X-ray that had been taken upon my arrival.

Then two big shapes came through the curtain, one in dark blue with a shiny silver badge on his front, and the other a figure I would know anywhere, even with goo-coated eyeballs.

Marco leaned down to press a kiss on my cheek, which had been washed free of soot and castor bean powder. “Are you okay?”

I tried to clear my throat, not that it helped any. “My head aches, my hands sting, my nose burns, and I can’t see or smell, but other than that I’m peachy. Would you raise my bed, please?”