False Premises (35 page)

Suddenly it occurred to me that Steve and I hadn’t discussed yesterday whether or not he needed to come to Henry’s, too. Sullivan went out of his way not to miss meetings involving Henry and Robert, but for all I knew, he could have another appointment elsewhere. In any case, with any luck, Sullivan wouldn’t have to be so careful from here on out; Wong would give a full confession, and all this would be over.

That realization—that this whole terrible ordeal was finally behind me—didn’t give me the sense of satisfaction and relief that it should have. John and I were through. Sullivan and I habitually fought like cats and dogs. Evan still had Steve’s money and was living high on the hog in Paris or some other exotic locale.

There was a silver Jaguar in Henry’s driveway—Robert’s
rental, I was certain—but no van marked “Sullivan Designs.” I felt a touch of disappointment. I was late, so if Sullivan wasn’t here by now, he wasn’t coming at all.

I rang the doorbell. Robert opened the door and gave me his usual delightful “Come in, come in. I’m afraid it’s probably just going to be the two of us. Henry is upstairs, but says he isn’t feeling well, and that yummy partner of yours called and is tied up with legal negotiations.”

“ ‘Legal negotiations’?”

He reseated his glasses. “My fault, I fear. I put the bug in Henry’s ear that he needed to get his lawyer to take a look at the contract that he and George were working up for you to sign, and, next thing you know, Henry’s insisting that the lawyer speak with Mr. Sullivan in advance of our little meeting here. When he called, I told him not to bother coming . . . that by the time he could drive out here, we’d be wrapping things up. I cut you a very generous check.”

“That’s always nice to hear. Thank you.”

He studied my features. “You look a bit out of sorts. Is everything all right?”

“Yes. Fine, thanks.” He continued to stare into my eyes with obvious skepticism, so I finally admitted, “I just had a run-in with your former associate George Wong.”

“Oh, dear, dear! What happened?”

“The police have arrested him. It appears that he killed Laura. They had me wear a wire, so they have our exchange on tape, and he all but confessed.”

“I am totally . . . flabbergasted, Erin! Why in heaven’s name would
George
kill Laura?”

“She had stolen something from him that he treasured . . . that chest his mother had used to smuggle him into this country. Laura was going to destroy it in the fire she intended to set at her house . . . just to be cruel.”

Robert sank into the nearest chair and rested his elbows on his knees, as though needing a chance to make sense of my words. I took this as an invitation and took a seat myself, in the beige upholstered side chair that was one of my few original selections for the room.

After a long pause, Robert squared his shoulders and rose. “That’s too dreadful to think about. Let’s just focus on the positives. The killer’s been arrested, your work here is finished, and you did a splendid job.”

“Still. It’s just . . . so painful. Two people have died. People can be so cruel to one another.”

He patted my shoulder. “I know just the thing to shore up your spirits. Let’s break out my housewarming present to Henry. It’s one of the finest cognacs on the market.”

“Oh, no thanks. I never drink during the day.”

“I’ll pour one for myself, then.”

“At least I’ll get to tell Steve the good news soon. He’s had nothing but misery ever since Evan Cambridge first wormed his way into his life.”

There was just the slightest hitch in Robert’s motions at Evan Cambridge’s name. The reaction reminded me of how he’d accidentally called him Evan Collins the last time we spoke. We’d been standing here in this ghastly room at the time. Something was suddenly ringing a bell . . . a past comment of Steve’s.

Robert turned with his drink in hand—he’d used one of the hand-blown brandy snifters from Paprika’s that I’d helped Henry select. Robert was watching me, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “I promise you, it’s the best-tasting alcohol you’ll ever consume. You’re sure you don’t want this?”

“I’m sure. But thank you. Henry no doubt greatly appreciated the gift. He once told me how much he loves a good cognac. That’s why I helped him select the brandy snifters. I knew he’d be putting them to good use.”

Suddenly the ringing bell of my memory turned into a warning siren.
Evan Collins. That was one of Evan’s
aliases. Steve had mentioned the name to Laura during
their argument on her front porch. How could
Robert
have
known it?
If Evan had hidden his sordid past from Robert as Robert had claimed, he should have known Evan only as Evan
Cambridge
!

I swallowed hard but tried to quell my rising anxiousness. This could all be perfectly innocent; Robert probably read about the alias in some newspaper article.

Even so, I needed to make a hasty but inconspicuous exit and call Linda at the police station to discuss this with her. She could be interrogating the wrong man even now.

I forced a smile and rose. “It’s been a traumatic day for me. Would you mind terribly if I just grab my check and run?”

“Not at all, Erin. Not at all. And I know just how you feel. George Wong once saved my life. Now it turns out he’s a cold-blooded killer.” He continued to swirl the contents of his glass, not sipping any of it. He was also not making any moves to actually retrieve the supposedly generous check he’d made out to me.

All of a sudden, my instincts were screaming at me to run.

I took a step toward the door. “Why don’t you just mail the check to me?”

“Nonsense. I’ll get it for you right now. I put it right here in this little table, just before you arrived. I had this specially made for Henry. A second housewarming present. Do you like it?”

I couldn’t answer. I was too terrified. Robert now stood directly in my path toward the door.
Had I already missed
my only chance to run?

“I’ve got a bonus for you in the table too. A special surprise for you.”

My heart was pounding so hard I could barely breathe.

Robert was saying, “I brought the table over to him today.”

I slipped my hand inside my purse.

“You’re going to want to put the phone down, Erin,” he said, all traces of gentility gone.

He pulled a knife out from the drawer. “I was so hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”

I swallowed hard.

“Sit down, dear. I can strike you dead on the spot, with a knife in the center of your heart. George taught me everything he knew about knives. I can throw them with uncanny accuracy.”

Chapter 24

Not needing to be told twice, I dropped into the side chair. As had been the case with Laura, I’d been fooled by Robert’s charm and attractive appearance. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Why, Robert?”

“It was business, darling. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am today to let my employees cheat me. Let alone to steal my money, like Laura did. In my line of work, if I had let her get away with that kind of thing, I may as well have started digging my own grave.”

My mouth was dry. I struggled to swallow. “You were the mastermind behind Evan’s and Laura’s scams?”

“Indeed, indeed.” He pursed his lips. “They’d been my star employees for more than ten years, till Laura became greedy and decided she could become a free agent. When she skipped out on Evan with all the profits, it was
my
money she was taking. And, alas, Jerry Stone was a mistake from the start. He kept bungling all my assignments. I should have realized he lacked the street smarts to work for me. That’s what led us here today.”

My thoughts raced.
Jerry was a
hit
man
? He must have bungled my would-be death on the garage stairs and later with the poisoned picture frame. But why had he made such a nuisance of himself at Paprika’s? Was that a strange attempt to establish a cover for himself—a homeless-but-harmless dreadlocked person who hung out at the Crestview Mall? Or had he used that persona to glean information from Hannah and locate Laura?

“I
did
try hard to warn you to mind your own business, Erin. You sealed your own fate by ignoring my warnings.”

“You killed Jerry for bungling your assignments?” I asked.

“Not for that, no.” Pembrook smirked. “Jerry, too, was turning traitor. He told you about the poison. Slipped you the photographs I’d kept of Henry and Laura. Jerry left me no choice. I had hoped, though, that finding his body in your office would frighten you off for good.” He chuckled. “You could say that I tried to kill two birds with one Jerry Stone.”

“Jerry killed Laura on your orders?”

He laughed at the question. “No, no. I would never have hired Jerry for something of that magnitude. As if
that
sorry sap could take anyone’s life. He didn’t have the backbone. Which, unfortunately for you, is not a weakness I share.”

“Did you kill Henry, too?”

“Sound asleep upstairs, darling. I need Henry alive. The poor man’s going to take the blame for all three murders.”

I fought against the cowardly urge to start sobbing. “But . . . why didn’t you just go back to Hollywood, Robert? Nobody suspected you of the murders. There was no reason to involve me.”

“Bad luck there, my dear. I made a slip of the tongue the other day . . . mentioning Evan’s real last name to you. I knew you’d put it together sooner or later.” He held out his brandy snifter. “Take it, my dear. Drink up.
You’ve
always been loyal to me, so I’ve done you a favor and put a nice strong sedative in the brandy. Worked wonders on Hammerin’ Hank. It’ll be much more pleasant for you to simply drift off to sleep. You won’t feel a thing.”

With a trembling hand, I accepted the glass.

The doorbell rang.

“Damn it,” Robert said under his breath. In a flash, he moved behind me. “That’s got to be Sullivan. You have that man wrapped around your finger so tight, he can barely breathe.” He dug his fingers into my shoulder and pressed the knife to my throat.

My van was parked in the driveway. If this
was
Steve, there was no way he was going to simply assume nobody was home and leave.

A conversation I’d once had with Laura about judo came back to me with such clarity, I could hear her voice: “The whole key is balance and leverage. You get your weight balanced so that you can use your leverage, then you throw the attacker
off
balance by using his own momentum against him.”

The bell rang again.

I could see the door from here, could see the position of the dead bolt. The door had been left unlocked.

Robert leaned his face next to mine and whispered, “Stay put. Make a noise, and it’ll be your last.”

I grabbed Robert’s knife hand with my free hand and simultaneously smashed the snifter into his face with as much force as I could muster. The glass shattered, cutting into him.

He cried out in pain and released his grip on me, the frame of his glasses snapping in two and falling off his face.

I rose and whirled around. Pembrook was clutching at his bleeding face with one hand, the knife in his other hand.

Behind me, the door banged open. Sullivan called, “Erin?”

“Help!” I yelled. My hand was bleeding profusely. Only the stubby stem of the brandy snifter remained in my fist. I dropped that, grabbed the side table by the legs, and swung it at Pembrook’s head with all my might. A corner caught him in the temple. He dropped to his knees.

Despite his cast, Sullivan raced toward us. He dived at Pembrook and flattened him on the floor. Within seconds, he had wrenched the knife away from him.

“Call nine-one-one,” Sullivan shouted.

I struggled to catch my breath and to get my mind around the fact that Sullivan had immobilized Pembrook, that he couldn’t possibly attack either of us now. Then I grabbed the phone and dialed.

Chapter 25

Whenever you’re faced with a hopelessly complex task, concentrate exclusively on performing the first few steps to absolute perfection, and the rest will follow.

—Audrey Munroe