Bad Hair Day 4 - Body Wave (19 page)

*Chapter Nineteen*
Marla waited in her Camry with the engine running until Vail arrived. After he'd parked his vehicle and strode over, she gestured for him to get in her car.
"Miriam is in trouble. I just spoke to her, and we were cut off." Switching gears, she pulled onto the main road and headed south. "I think I figured it out."
His solemn gaze raked her. "That's what I like about you, brains to go along with beauty. What's up?"
"Did you find out anything about Kathleen?" she countered.
"She'd been shot from behind. No one around her noticed anything unusual with all the noise from the circus."
At Broward Boulevard, she turned left to head east. Traffic was light toward downtown at eight o'clock; most people had already gone home. Orange streetlights provided a bright glow as they sped past empty storefronts and the interstate overpass. Puddles flanked the road, but the rain had stopped. Moisture clung to the air as though the night had perspired. She kept her wipers on, oblivious to their monotonous hum.
"Stan called me earlier," Marla explained after they'd crossed a set of train tracks. "He wanted to know how I was progressing with the case, then he mentioned not being able to find things around his house. He meant to ask his Irish maid about it, but she didn't show up today. Her name is Kate Sebastian. Ring a bell?"
"Kathleen?"
"You got it." She grinned at his bewildered look. "Jeremiah showed up at my salon, accusing me of contributing to his sister's death. That's what you were going to tell me, isn't it? That Kathleen and Jeremiah were related. He said Kathleen had a compulsion to take objects that don't belong to her. She also had a key to let herself into Stan's place when no one was home. What if she lifted his letter opener and brought it to her room in the Pearls' house?"
His gaze sharpened, and she warmed to his solid, stabilizing presence. "I see where you're going. Someone at Miriam's place took the letter opener and the key, someone who knew the victim's morning routine of getting up early to fix Stan's breakfast before he came downstairs. Either Kim unlocked the door to let in a person she knew, or the killer entered with a key. The perp stabbed her with the dagger, panicked and threw it in Stan's yard, kicked some dirt over it, then fled."
"Meaning it's someone from the Pearl household. Kathleen must have realized who it was, and that's what she intended to tell me. I hope nothing has happened to Miriam."
They arrived at the estate in record time. The Camry's brakes squealed when she stopped it in the circular driveway and shut off the engine. A few moments later, they charged up the front steps. The door was slightly ajar.
"Hold it," Vail commanded. Drawing a gun from his holster, he brushed past her and edged the door open farther. Dead silence greeted them.
"Shouldn't you call for backup?"
"We're in Fort Lauderdale, not Palm Haven," he whispered. "Maybe nothing's wrong, and Agnes got tied up talking to the cook. You can wait outside while I take a look around."
"Are you kidding? I have to see if Miriam's all right."
"This could be dangerous. Do what I tell you."
"No way. I'll be careful."
"Damn stubborn woman." He cracked the door wider. "Where's the butler?"
"Miriam said she gave him the night off."
"Peculiar. Isn't this about the time you said the family ate dinner?"
She nodded, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. Wiping sweaty palms over her long skirt, she stepped forward. Keys rattled in her pocket, and she clamped a hand over them. She'd locked her purse in the car, not wanting to be burdened.
"I'm going upstairs," she said without waiting for his permission.
A scraping sound off to the left caught their attention. "I'll check the kitchen," Vail rasped. "Holler if you need me."
Marla carefully ascended the steps, watching her footing so she didn't trip over the same piece of folded carpet as before. At the landing, she hesitated. The door to Miriam's room was closed. Dare she peek inside?
Concern for the old lady propelled her forward. _Please let Miriam be okay. Maybe she's just sleeping, and that's why it's so quiet._
She tried to calm the tremors that shook through her, but her heart beat so fast that her teeth chattered. With icy fingers, she twisted the doorknob to Miriam's chamber.
Oh, no. The matriarch's still form lay on the bed. A pillow covered her face. Marla gasped, her indrawn breath the only sound in the room.
Rushing forward, she snatched the pillow away. To her relief, Miriam's eyes were closed. She would have fainted at confronting the sightless stare of the dead. The old woman's skin appeared translucently pale, blue veins throbbing at her temples.
Throbbing. She was alive, but unconscious. Someone had tried to smother her and failed.
Marla leaned forward to put her hand on a bony shoulder when several things happened at once. She heard a shout followed by a gunshot downstairs. The single lamp in the room went out, along with the hallway lights. Darkness descended, but not before she noticed a shadow hurtling at her from the doorway.
A scream tore from her throat. She dodged sideways, missing a blow aimed at her head. It grazed her shoulder, sending a searing pain down her arm. Lashing out with her foot, she felt a satisfying crunch when it connected with someone's leg. A yelp sounded, revealing her assailant's position. Before she could take advantage, her hair was caught in a viselike grip, her head jerked back.
"Interfering bitch," snarled Agnes's voice.
A sharp object jabbed her neck, pressing against her skin. She couldn't speak, could barely breathe. _Dalton!_ her mind cried.
"Kathleen took this heavy onyx paperweight from Stan's house," the nurse said. "Do you know what a sharp point a narrow pyramid shape has? No?"
It punctured Marla's skin. She whimpered, and Agnes chuckled. It was a cold, calculating sound that chilled her blood.
"Kill her," urged a male voice from beyond the darkness.
Horror dawned in Marla's breast as she realized she faced two enemies who had her at their mercy.
"I'm having fun," Agnes said. "Miss Shore has been a thorn in my side, making Miriam ask me uncomfortable questions. The old bag even wanted to double-check my bookkeeping. How else do you think Miriam got wise to me? Oh yes," she said, yanking on Marla's hair until she moaned with pain. "I stopped sending those checks to Kimberly a long time ago. Built myself a nice nest egg along the way, until the smart-ass child figured out where her money was going."
"What about you, Morris?" Marla croaked, buying time. "How are you involved?"
Heat emanated from Morris's body as he joined them inside the room. "I couldn't let my darling niece expose Jeremiah's connection to the family. If my brother claimed his share of Harris's fortune, he'd find out it wasn't there. Mother would learn I've been covering my gambling debts by skimming money from the company, and she'd disinherit me."
"I noticed Morris's financial reports didn't jive with our accounts," Agnes said proudly. "When I realized he'd been dipping into the family funds, I confronted him. We ended up covering for each other. So you see, we had a perfect arrangement, until you came along."
"I took care of the cop downstairs," Morris said. "Get rid of her, or would you rather I do it?"
"Don't be in such a rush, darling. We'll be gone by the time your family returns from their concert."
Marla, who'd listened in rising panic, jabbed the nurse in the ribs with her elbow and stomped on her instep.
Agnes howled with fury but loosened her grip enough for Marla to spin away. Feigning to the right, she shot to her left as Morris lunged. The doorway loomed in front of her like a portal to heaven. She staggered into the hallway, cursing the pitch darkness. Dropping to her knees, she crawled in the direction of the staircase.
Then the lights switched on with blazing clarity.
Morris faced her, holding a familiar weapon in his hand. Dalton's gun. What had happened to the detective?
Agnes emerged from the bedroom, face purplish with fury. "Shoot her," she urged, spittle on her lip.
Marla glanced at the balustrade railing. She'd never make it down the stairs. Only one option presented itself to her.
Leaping to her feet, she vaulted over the railing and crashed to the marble floor below.
A sharp pain jarred her right hip upon impact. For an instant, she remained paralyzed, frozen with fear. At least all her limbs moved; she hadn't broken anything. Torn between checking on Dalton and escaping through the open front door, she hesitated. Maybe there was an exit through the kitchen. Didn't servants usually enter through a separate service door? It had to be in the rear somewhere.
While her instincts screamed at her to escape, she mustered her strength to dash into the kitchen. It became a limping marathon, because she couldn't put her full weight on the side where she'd fallen.
Her stricken gaze fell on Dalton flat on the tile but still breathing. A swelling bruise on the side of his head told the rest of the story.
"Dalton, please wake up!" She lifted his arm, attempting to drag him toward the rear door. At least she'd been right on that account. Now if only he would budge, because she lacked the strength to move him. Her heart leapt when he moaned and his eyelids fluttered open.
A gunshot sounded, and a whoosh of air flew by Marla's head. Dalton rolled to his feet, swayed in place, and would have fallen if not for her supporting arm.
"This way," Marla indicated. They stumbled together out the door into the inky night. Now what? If they could make it to her car, they were home free. But as they staggered around the corner, she gave a gasp of dismay. All four tires had been punctured. Agnes grinned at them, waving a poker she must have retrieved from the fireplace.
Behind them, Morris chortled in triumph and fired a volley of shots. His aim went wild, but Marla didn't stop to thank her lucky stars. Grabbing Vail's hand, she pulled him toward the woods surrounding the Pearl compound.
He kept pace with her limping stride, but his constant blinking had her worried. From his dazed expression, it looked as though he was making a concerted effort to stay conscious. Oh joy, she thought, I can barely walk, and he can barely stay awake.
At least the clouds dissipated, revealing a full moon that provided enough light for them to discern a path through the forest. She urged him on, afraid Morris and his partner in crime would overtake them. Or else that one of his bullets would hit the mark.
"He's out," muttered Vail, hanging on to her arm. His added weight made her good side sag.
"Huh?"
"Out of ammunition. He stopped firing."
"Maybe he just wants to get closer. We have to get off this path if we want to evade them." She glanced at his empty belt, which usually held a cell phone. "If we can circle around to my car, I'll grab my purse. My phone is inside."
"Never mind. We have to separate Morris and the nurse. We'll have a better chance to take them on one at a time."
"Yeah, right. Like either of us is in a condition to fight."
"There!" Vail pointed to a spreading banyan tree that must have been hundreds of years old. Dead leaves and dried pine needles crunched underfoot as they struggled through the underbrush. Sea grapes competed for space with cabbage palms and live oaks in the semitropical hammock, redolent with the earthy odor of decaying vegetation. The hairs on her arms prickled in the cool breeze as footsteps thudded close behind.
Vail stooped to snatch a dead tree limb, fumbled it, and slid to his knees. "Dizzy," he grunted.
"Not now! We have to get up that tree." She wouldn't leave him on the ground to be beaten senseless by their adversaries. Or worse.
It would have been difficult under normal circumstances to scamper up the roots that reached from the branches to the ground. A tree house would fit in the network of intertwined limbs that stretched in a wide radius, and she wished for one now, with a convenient ladder. Lifting her leg brought a sharp agony to her right hip. She bit back an exclamation of pain, gritting her teeth as she clambered over the rough bark from one foothold to the next. Vail crawled after her, holding a club fashioned from a stump.
They crouched on a horizontal branch, waiting -- two disabled prey hoping to turn the tables on their predators. The sounds of their soft breathing mingled with the crickets' nightly chorus.
"I'm sure they went in this direction," Agnes's voice sounded directly below.
"Dammit, I don't see them," Morris snapped.
"Maybe we should leave. If we make the flight, it doesn't matter what they report."
With a swing of his club, Vail cracked Morris on the head. The man crumbled like a wet noodle.
"Oh, what the hell." For the second time that night, Marla took a leap of faith that would have impressed even a man of spirituality such as Jeremiah Dooley. She landed on Agnes, knocking her to the ground. The poker dropped from Agnes's fingers, but the nurse was far from disarmed. A blade in her other hand gleamed in a shaft of moonlight.
"Marla, watch out!" Vail cried from above.
Beyond their twisting, struggling bodies, Marla caught a glimpse of his sickly expression. The effort of swinging the chunk of wood must have aggravated his head. Nonetheless, he hung his legs down in preparation to jumping.
A knee to her stomach forced the breath from her lungs. As she tried to draw air, Agnes rolled her onto her back. The nurse's leering face hovered above hers as their arms locked into a death match. While her heavy weight held Marla down, Agnes pressed a leg against her bad side, forcing a groan from her lips. Her arms weakened, and Agnes thrust the blade forward. Its sharp edge pierced her chin.

Beside them, she heard a thud. Dalton must have landed, she thought vaguely. Or fallen. She didn't sense any other motion nearby. It was just the two of them, and Agnes had the advantage.
Stones and twigs dug into her back through her sweater as she fought to keep the knife from slipping to her throat. Now that she'd regained her breath, she panted in short, hard bursts. Sweat dripped down her chest.
Agnes's onion breath washed in hot gusts over her face. The whites of her eyes showed in feral madness. Marla's arms ached from the difficulty of pushing against her superior strength.
_Hell, I'm no lightweight. I lift hairbrushes all day!_ Mustering her energy, Marla shoved with all her might, at the same time sliding her good leg sideways and over. Her twisting motion took Agnes by surprise. She felt the nurse's grip loosen. Letting go of one hand, Marla groped in the soil. She hit pay dirt when her fingers closed around a rock.
_Crack._ Marla cringed when the rock connected with Agnes's skull. Relief surged through her when the nurse collapsed to her side, stunned.
Marla grabbed the knife from her momentarily nerveless fingers. Vail stirred, putting a hand to his head.
Hearing him rouse spurred Agnes from her prone position. "Morris!" she called, but her companion didn't answer. He remained sprawled on the ground, unresponsive.
Vail leveraged himself to his knees.
Uttering a cry, Agnes hauled herself upright, then sprinted away into the night.
"Is he dead?" Marla asked, fearful that Morris might rise again and pounce on her.
Vail crawled over and prodded him. "He'll live, but he's got more than a concussion. Are you all right?" He turned to her, eyes gleaming in a manner that brought warmth back into her chilled veins.
"Yes, and you?"
"My head feels like it was hit by a sledgehammer. Sitting up makes me dizzy."
"Then I'll have to help you."
Help wasn't what Dalton had in mind when his arms closed around her.