An Unconventional Murder (24 page)

"Then came the risky part," Upton said. "You had to remove the boards from the doors
so you could arrange them behind Johnson's overcoat. I assume you did the doors one at a
time--"

"But you figured it wasn't all that chancy," Randy added. "You were still decked up in
the wig and moustache, just in case someone happened to come by."

"But nobody saw you, did they?" GP said. "You slipped out the back door, took off the
wig and moustache, and blended into the crowd."

"Is that how it happened, Mr. Wade?" Cameron said.

Ashley had been standing with his hands apparently clasped behind him. Suddenly, he
seized Rena by the arm and pressed the steel blade of the nine-inch stiletto tightly against her
throat.

"Goddamn you!" he spat. "Goddamn all of you! You're all so smug, preening yourselves
and bragging about all of your books, lording it over everyone else because they're still virgin
writers. Yes, virgins! Like the rest of us are a bunch of useless losers! Well, goddamn all of
you!"

Upton found his throat suddenly dry. "We do everything we can to encourage people, not
make them feel left out." Seeing the look of terror in Rena's eyes, he kept his voice calm,
desperately hoping to persuade Ashley not to harm her. "We pride ourselves on treating the
novices the same as we treat the experienced authors."

"Oh, yeah? What about the Published Writer's Guild? You go off and cloister yourselves
like some exclusive secret society, locking the rest of us out of your private little club. I'm
surprised you don't have guards posted at the door, to make sure none of us peons try to sneak
in."

"Good Lord, Ash." Randy slapped his knee in disgust. "They're the most boring
goddamned meetings a fellow could imagine. Please don't tell me you killed two men over
something like that!"

"I-I'm not admitting anything."

"You don't have to. The mere fact that you're waving that knife around like a maniac
tells us everything we need to know."

"Oh, yeah?" Ashley retorted, sweat glistening on his face. "Well, as it so happens, I
found it. It was hidden in the bathroom, and I picked it up. I didn't kill anyone."

"Then why don't you give me the knife, Mr. Wade?" Cameron said in a calm voice.
"Then we can talk about this."

"Oh, yeah, right. How stupid do you think I am?"

Cameron shrugged. "Then I have no choice but to assume that you are responsible for
two murders. Mr. Wade, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain--"

"Don't give me that Miranda bullshit! Do you think I'm going to stand here and let you
drag me off to jail?"

"Harming Ms. Oberhaus will only make matters worse."

Rena was trembling with fear. Her eyes begged Upton to help her.

"He's right, Ash," Upton said. "She hasn't done anything to you."

"She's the one who accused me of murder."

"I'm the one who raised the subject." Cameron spoke in a quiet, calming tone. "It
occurred to me while everyone was downstairs. Ms. Oberhaus was merely answering my
questions."

"It's true," Upton said.

Ashley just stood there, frozen in place, looking like a cornered, wounded animal.

Upton didn't know what to do.

He just knew he had to do something. He met Rena's eyes, trying to reassure her.

All he saw in response was her terror.

"Ash, there are nearly three feet of snow outside," Upton said. "You can't just get in your
car and drive off. You'd get stuck in the snow while you were still in the parking lot."

Ashley just stared, glassy-eyed.

For what seemed like an eternity, Upton stood with the others in a semi-circle around
Ashley, whose grip on Rena never loosened.

If pressed, he would undoubtedly kill her.

What did he have to lose?

Fontaine spoke up. "What superhuman stunt would your larger than life hero, Frank
Diamond, pull in a situation like this, Arthur? There's no SWAT team coming and you can't
fashion a weapon out of a stalk of bamboo."

Upton felt his face flush. "Is that all you can offer at a time like this? A cheap shot at
me? You goddamned--"

Fontaine strode to the far wall. In a mocking tone, he said, "This is your baby,
Diamond."

Ashley still held the deadly stiletto menacingly against Rena's throat.

Despite his fury at Fontaine, Upton felt an almost uncontrollable panic. If anything
happened to Rena, he would never forgive himself. He made an effort to calm himself. "Let go of
her, Ash. There's no reason to--"

Ashley shrugged. "I might as well go out in a blaze of glory. Unless you have any better
suggestions. "

Without warning, the room was plunged into darkness.

Upton had the sensation that his very existence was suspended in time.

Then, out of nowhere, he heard a mental voice:
This is your baby,
Diamond.

The opening line from his first book.

He flung himself through the air, to where Rena and Ashley were standing. His shoulder
struck something solid.

Rena cried out.

Upton reached past her, his hands grabbing for Ashley.

All he caught was air.

Finally he made contact with something that felt like a leg. He seized it and held on, like
a football player clinging to a fumbled ball. Something heavy landed on top of him, and he
sensed another presence. Arms clawed at him, rolling him onto his side. He loosened his grip and
fought to defend himself. There were shouts and curses. Someone's knee caught him hard in the
thigh.

When the lights came back on, Upton's eyes took seconds to adjust. He was sprawled on
his back, wrestling with Rena, Cameron and Ashley, who was struggling to break free.

On the rug, within arm's reach, lay the stiletto.

Upton grabbed at Ashley's leg, but wasn't quick enough. Ashley kicked free, snatched
the stiletto and struck.

Upton was stunned by the white-hot pain in his shoulder.

Ashley scrambled to his feet, clutching the bloody knife. He seized Thelma Ridgeway.
"Come with me."

She tried to pull away. "Not on your life."

"Then you die." He slashed at her.

She sidestepped and deflected the knife with her elbow. With her other hand, she
chopped at his wrist.

The knife fell harmlessly to the floor.

He stared dumbly. "What--"

She smiled. "Now it's my turn, chump!" She took a step toward him.

He clamped his mouth closed. He looked like a deflated balloon.

She took another step.

"Get away from me." He backed away. "I'm not going to prison over this!"

She continued her advance.

He looked frantically around the room. His expression suddenly brightened, as if he'd
seen a solution. Then he turned and ran toward the balcony door that Brady had left
unlocked.

"Ash! No!" Upton said.

Ashley slid the door open and forced his way through the snow. He slipped once and
nearly fell, but quickly managed to regain his balance.

Without the slightest hesitation, he grabbed the top of the railing and vaulted onto it. He
remained poised on the rail for what seemed like an eternity, and then soared into the night.

Upton was the first to reach the balcony.

Twelve stories below, illuminated in the exterior lights of the hotel, Ashley Wade was
sprawled in the snow, his arms outspread like a grotesque, twisted snow angel.

After a while, Upton realized the others had joined him on the balcony. The snow was
still falling. It was already beginning to cover Ashley's body, as though trying to erase any sign of
his existence.

Randy broke the silence. "All of this for nothing. If he'd just waited one more day, he
would have had everything he wanted."

"A bitter irony, indeed." Royce agreed.

Rena said, "Thank God it's over!" She turned to Upton. "And thank you for--"

"I'm freezing," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "And I don't feel so good."

Feeling suddenly woozy, he staggered back into suite and tumbled onto the carpet.

Upton didn't pass out. But he felt too dizzy to sit up. Something was terribly wrong with
his shoulder. Every breath was excruciating.

Was this what it felt like to die?

He was dimly aware of Rena unbuttoning his shirt, and her fingers probing around his
shoulder.

"Ouch!" he said, opening his eyes.

Rena was bent over him, wearing a worried expression. But there was also something
reassuring about the professional way she called out, "Someone get towels. And blankets."

"I will," Brady volunteered.

"How bad is it?" Cameron said.

"It's his shoulder," Rena said. "It looks like the knife missed the lungs and all the vital
organs. But we need to stop the bleeding." Brady must have returned. She took a towel and
warned Upton, "This is going to hurt. I'm going to apply pressure to the wound."

Upton steeled himself. He winced as she pressed hard against his shoulder, but did his
best to hold still. After what seemed like an hour, she eased the pressure.

"I think it's stopped. But don't try to get up." She gently slid a pillow under his head and
covered him with blankets. "Understood?"

"You don't have to worry about that," he assured her. "I'd probably just fall on my face."
He smiled. "Thank you."

* * * *

Upton awoke, still on the carpet, vaguely aware that Rena was seated next to him,
stroking his face. He tried to reach out with his right arm, but found it was restrained.

And it hurt.

"We made a sling," she told him. "You need to keep it immobile or you might start the
bleeding again."

"What did you use to make the sling?"

"Your shirt," she answered. "It was already ruined, anyway."

"Thank you, Rena. You probably saved my life."

She patted his forehead. "Then we're even. You kept Ashley from slitting my
throat."

Something occurred to Upton and made him angry all over again. He looked around
until he spotted Royce Fontaine. "What would Frank Diamond do?" he demanded. "What kind of
crap was that?"

Royce came over. "Hello, Arthur. I'm delighted to see you're awake. I was concerned
that you might not--"

"What the hell were you doing?"

Royce frowned. "Wasn't it obvious?"

"To you, maybe. I damn near didn't get it."

Royce smiled. "I knew it would come to you, once you realized why the lights had gone
off. Only you would understand the significance of that. Ashey would be left, forgive the pun, in
the dark."

"I didn't realize you were capable of anything that devious," Upton said, moderating his
tone. "Or, come to think of it, that you had actually read any of my books."

Royce shrugged. "I wanted to know whether you could write."

"And?"

Royce smiled. "For a whodunit, it was almost palatable. A bit melodramatic, perhaps.
What was that opening phrase that Diamond uttered?"

Upton knew it word for word. "When you tackle a man, his natural instinct is to throw
his arms outward, to break his fall. He will always do this. Always."

"Hackneyed and trite. But for that genre, acceptable." Royce looked pointedly at Upton's
bandaged shoulder. "I see that, just like your accursed hero, you've managed to get yourself
injured."

Upton winced as he tried to move his arm. "I guess I did, didn't I?" he said, feeling an
almost perverse pride. Then he demanded, "And what do you mean, hackneyed? How dare
you--"

"Hey, the snow has stopped!" Brady announced, pointing to the balcony.

Everyone cheered.

"Finally, some good news," Upton said. "What about the hostage crisis?"

Cameron answered, "They got him. About an hour ago. They'd managed to slip someone
inside. The announcement about a full scale assault was just a diversion."

Upton tried to move, but the pain was too intense. "Any more deaths?"

"Just the suspect. They think he killed himself. They won't know for sure for a few
days."

Someone pounded on the door.

Upton said, "Who could possibly be--"

Randy opened the door. The hotel manager strode into the suite. "Another dead body?"
he demanded, trembling with anger. "You people are destroying my hotel!"

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Forrest," Rena answered. "Next year, I promise you, we
won't--"

"Next year?" His voice rose with disbelief. "Next year? You must be joking. Next year,
you'll hold your convention somewhere else. I'd suggest the Federal Corrections Center!"

He wheeled and stormed out of the room.

"You know, you really can't blame him," Upton observed as the door slammed. "This
had been a long and difficult day. For all of us."

"Yeah, but why blame the CFWA?" Thelma Ridgeway protested. "That's like throwing
out the baby with the bath water."

"Amen to that," Randy said. "By the way, where in blazes did you learn that karate
move?"

"Not karate. Tae Kwon Do. I'm a blue belt. I just got my red stripe. You earn that by
learning how to defend against knife attacks."

"That was mighty impressive. And, hell, if that manager doesn't want us coming back
here, we'll just go somewhere else. I'm getting sick of this place, anyway."

"I wouldn't know," she said. "This is only my second time. But you know what? I just
might give this group another shot. Especially if you're going to be there."

He eyed her. "Did you enter that damn contest this year?"

"You bet I did."

"Well, I didn't judge it. So don't be accusing me of--"

She elbowed him gently in the ribs. "Don't be a jackass, cowboy. That's not why I want
you come to the next convention."

"Oh," he said, breaking into a smile. "Well, then I just might do it."

Upton asked Cameron, "Will you come back and speak to us again next year? I don't
know what we would have done without you."

"We'll see," the detective said. "But if I do, you can be sure I won't be bringing the
Weapons of Mayhem
."