Elizabeth C. Main - Jane Serrano 01 - Murder of the Month (29 page)

My search for suitable ladder material turned up nothing but a frayed extension cord and half a ball of twine left over from an uncompleted effort to box up unsold Christmas books. Another project I’d avoided before, but one which I’d be only too happy to tackle in the future, if I could stay alive long enough to do it. I went back to work on my ladder.

It was hard to check each room for useful supplies while simultaneously keeping an ear cocked for the sound of Harley’s approach on the stairs. Since each room was stuffed with books and bookcases, it was even harder to maneuver with any speed. We really needed to get serious about weeding the stock, not just the Christmas books, but every other category, too. Slipping out of my sandals so as to move more quietly, I realized that before tonight I hadn’t given nearly enough consideration to the need for a floor plan that facilitated escape from a killer. The two staircases were a nice start, but they weren’t quite enough.

How much weight would the twine hold? I had no idea. I should have paid more attention to physics and less to Elizabethan dramatists, though Shakespeare provided me with an appropriate line that ran endlessly through my head as I laid out the extension cord along the hall floor and added multiple lengths of the twine for reinforcement. Shakespeare’s words provided as good a mantra as any: “For courage mounteth with occasion.” If ever there existed an occasion that called for courage, this was it.

The flimsy ladder wouldn’t get me clear to the ground, but if I put the part reinforced with the extension cord at the top, it might break my fall for a good part of the distance. With any luck at all, I’d merely break an arm and still be able to run for help before Harley figured out what I’d done. Even if I broke a leg, I vowed to out-hobble him. He was not going to beat me, no matter how smart he was. I wasn’t skilled at chess, but so what? This wasn’t a game.

I carried my makeshift ladder through the room piled high with books on history and military campaigns, the twine snake following me in a not very impressive manner. Surely, no military operation had ever rested on such a ridiculous plan. I gloomily surveyed my two possible escape routes—the door and the window—in the dim light still making its way through the grimy window. After trying without success to raise the window sash, I conceded that it had been painted closed too many times and was not going to budge. I could break the glass, of course, but that would bring Harley up the stairs in a flash. Next, I turned my attention to the heavy wooden door that opened to the outside. It was secured with an old-fashioned bolt.

“Aren’t you ready yet?” Harley called from below. He sounded like an irritable husband waiting for his wife to put on her lipstick before a Sunday drive. “It’s time.”

I took a deep breath and pushed against the bolt with all my strength. It didn’t move. It needed grease, but where would I find some up here? The front drawer of a desk in one corner provided an eraser and a sheaf of yellowed paper for a typewriter no longer in the room, two pennies, a skeleton key, some paper clips, and a half-eaten roll of Lifesavers. My mouth was dry enough that even the desiccated candies tempted me, but I might not live long enough to swallow one of them if I didn’t get that door open soon. What else? On the desk top lay a roll of masking tape and some unshelved books.

Could I trick Harley into thinking I’d gone out the window and throw books at him from behind the door? Not likely. Besides, unle n ss I beaned him with a really heavy encyclopedia, I’d be in worse shape than ever once he turned around and found me.

I felt in the pockets of my shorts, but found only a wadded-up Kleenex and some cherry-flavored Lip Balm that tasted good, but wouldn’t even protect me from the harmful rays of the sun, let alone a bullet from Harley’s gun. Tears pricked my eyes. I had no good options.

Listlessly, I picked up the two heaviest books and went to my hiding place behind the door. Shakespeare still droned in my head, but what good was courage without WD-40?

At this point I almost wanted Harley to get up here soon so we could get this thing over with, no matter how it ended. I was hot and tired and I had done everything I could think of. When he came at me, I’d yell and scream, but that was about all I had left.

Licking my dry lips, I considered again the lowly Lip Balm in my pocket. Might as well put some on while I waited. I had nothing else to do. I put down the books and took out the tube, smoothing the creamy substance over my lips. Maybe I’d even splurge and go get one of the candies in the drawer. It would ease my parched throat so I’d be able to scream all the louder when I needed to. I hoped there was a cherry Lifesaver left. That had always been my favorite flavor.

There were two Lifesavers left in the crumpled package, lime and … cherry. Ah, yes. Appreciative of small victories, I popped it into my mouth, savoring the sweetness before putting the remaining candy into my pocket. I resumed my post behind the door. Things were looking up. I soon reached for the remaining Lifesaver, but found the Lip Balm first. My heart started to thud as I considered. Could the Lip Balm possibly be greasy enough to unstick that lock? Probably not, but even as I denied the possibility, I was racing across the room to the door in the outside wall.

Smearing the red stuff all over the bolt action of the lock, I felt like a vandal. It was now dark enough that at least I didn’t have to look at my graffiti, but old habits die hard and it bothered me to deface the lock. The girls and I would have a good laugh about this later … I hoped.

Even if all my efforts failed and Harley caught me, I was stubborn enough to hope I had created enough of a mess that he wouldn’t be able to get away. Harley would be caught though only if I could force him to kill me on my terms, not his. I swallowed hard at the thought, but it had to be faced. I was determined to make things as difficult for him as possible. If I could make him shoot me somewhere publicly, rather than giving him the chance to choose a private setting where I might never be found, even Arnie would get the picture that something was fishy. He might even get smart enough to take a closer look at the murders of Vanessa and Gil, particularly with the hounding he’d be getting from my tenacious friends in the Murder of the Month Book Club and Nick, who had wisely disliked Harley on sight.

I pushed against the lock until my hands were sore, but the lock didn’t budge. Then I picked up a book and used it as a hammer, hoping the sounds would be too muffled for Harley to hear. I struck once, twice, and the bolt started to move. I struck it harder, and it moved more until, finally, it cleared the hasp altogether. I dropped the book and wrenched at the knob. Locked, of course. I ran back to the desk and pulled out the skeleton key I had seen earlier, thankful for once that we never discarded anything in this chaotic store. After two tries, I steadied my hand enough to fit the key into the keyhole, and turned it.

The door swung open without a sound, leaving me bathed in the softness of the summer night air. The breeze cooled my superheated cheeks as I reached for the ladder so I could tie it to the doorknob.

“That won’t be necessary, Jane.” In the gloom I could hardly make out the figure standing in the doorway behind me, but that didn’t matter. I knew who it was.

“Ready?” Harley’s casual tone made it sound as though we were about to set off for the class reunion we had planned to attend together. My flesh crawled at the very idea. And to think that I had agreed to go because I felt sorry for poor Harley, carrying on so valiantly after the death of his close friend Vanessa.

“Actually, I’m not. Why don’t you just leave me here?” My voice sounded so normal that I was tempted to add, “Have a nice trip.”

“Oh, I’m afraid that won’t work at all. Shall we go?”

“That
is
the question, isn’t it?” I agreed. And it was. The choice I made in the next minute would determine whether I was going to live or die. It was just that simple, and never in my whole life had I been so aware that I wanted to live. In the first days and months following Tony’s death, I’d been too anguished to think about choices. As a responsible parent, I just kept plodding ahead because that’s what a parent does. I had often felt like a sleepwalker, but I took care of my family. When any of the girls needed me—when Susannah couldn’t get Kevin to sleep through the night, or Emily wanted me to critique the essay that would get her onto the archeological dig, or, yes, even when Bianca accused the Russell County District Attorney of murder—I tried to help. However, now that I was faced with death, I did a quick mental check and concluded that my kids would be okay no matter what happened to me now. They had healed after their father’s death, probably better than I had. For a long time my job had been to care for them, but I had already completed that task. They could care for themselves, and they knew that I loved them.

Now I had the luxury of making choices for myself, and I could feel the cocoon of grief that had imprisoned me for so long breaking apart. In one glorious burst of energy, I knew that I wanted to live and I would fight for my life, which was expanding in ways I couldn’t even have imagined a year ago. I wasn’t going to be cheated out of experiencing it.

Harley and his gun stood between me and my future. I stood between Harley and his future, too, but I was armed only with determination. It would have to do. He was not going to get away with three murders and then live happily ever after as one of Juniper’s leading citizens.

A slight shuffling of his feet alerted me to the likelihood that he was about to rush me. He still wanted to get me out of here without firing the gun or making unnecessary noise.

“Wait,” I said, putting as much fear and resignation in my voice as I could. “Just a minute, please.” The fear wasn’t hard to convey, but I was far from resigned. “I’ll go, but first, tell me what happened. You said you would.” I waited, hoping that he would relax as he registered the defeat in my voice.

“What do you want to know?” he asked eventually. He’d concluded that he didn’t have anything to lose by talking now. That, in itself, was tacit confirmation that he wasn’t going to let me go.

“Why did you kill Gil? He was your friend. He practically grew up with you … in your house—”

“Yes, he did. He certainly did grow up in my house. In fact, my dear departed parents thought he could walk on water. It was ‘Gil this’ and ‘Gil that’ and ‘Why can’t you be more like Gil?’ More like him? I was better than he was! I was the Valedictorian, not Gil. I was the chess champion, not Gil, but that wasn’t enough. My parents even displayed a bigger picture of Gil on our mantel than of me! I could outthink him any day of the week, but Gil could throw a football, and Gil was charming, and everybody thought Gil was just great. How do you think he got through chemistry? I swiped the tests, coached him so he’d look good … and oh, how good he looked. People fell all over him, even people who should have known better—”

“Like Vanessa?”

“Especially Vanessa. I kept trying to explain it to her, but she knew he’d always be the one with his picture on the mantel. She always went back to Gil. And when Gil found out that I was borrowing money from the bank, Vanessa joined right in with him in holding it over me. For years!” He was shouting now, almost forgetting my presence. “It was ‘Harley, can you get us into Edgecliffe?’ and ‘Golf lessons would be a great Christmas present for Vanessa’ and ‘How about throwing a fundraiser for me, old buddy?’ I did everything they asked, and still, they treated me like an errand boy. Well, they found out. They both did. The look on Vanessa’s face as she went over the cliff—”

“So you did kill Vanessa! How did you do that?”

“I told her about Gil and Jenna. She was furious, of course. She begged me to help her catch them on tape. Vanessa wasn’t as smart as she thought she was, but she could see the writing on the wall. She wasn’t going to leave her meal ticket though. No, sir. She just needed a little private insurance so that Gil wouldn’t be able to dump her. She wanted to be Oregon’s First Lady someday.”

“How did you know that Gil and Jenna would be in the gorge?”

“I sent them each a secret note, supposedly from each other, saying it was vitally important for them to meet. When Vanessa came crashing down beside them, Gil didn’t have any idea what was going on, but his political instincts kicked right in. He grabbed the videotape and ran. He didn’t care what happened to Vanessa as long as it didn’t cause a scandal. One less problem, as long as Jenna backed his alibi.”

“Which she did.”

“Everything was fine until your daughter started meddling.”

“But Bianca didn’t know anything—”

“Gil wasn’t sure of that. When she sent him that note saying she knew what he had done, he thought maybe she had seen him there with Jenna, or maybe she had seen him leaving before Vanessa died, and he couldn’t let either of those things come out. Vanessa’s death had to be ruled a simple accident. Anything else, he couldn’t risk politically.”

“So Kurt had nothing to do with it.”

“Kurt was just being stupid, same as always. All bluster.”

“Gil’s house. I still don’t know what happened at Gil’s house,” I put in quickly. Harley seemed to be enjoying the chance to brag about his cleverness, and I was more than willing to take the time to listen.

Harley laughed. “That was the best part. Gil didn’t know how to get Bianca to leave him alone. He kept crying to me about it.” He imitated Gil’s voice, “‘Do something, Harley.’ Just like always, I was supposed to fix things. Then she showed up at his house.”