Lye in Wait (34 page)

After she'd left, he'd remembered the Rumple Minze Jacob
had given him. Poured himself a glass. Didn't drink it. Took it
outside. Debated. Tried to distract himself by looking at his job
for the morning, the raised bed he'd be building in our backyard.
Couldn't quite put the glass down. Thought about calling Jacob,
his AA sponsor. Didn't make the call.

Finally gave in.

And when the burning started, he ran to the closest faucet. In
my workroom. And there he'd died.

Even if it hadn't happened exactly like that, I was close. We'd
never know for sure, because no one had been there when Walter
died. But two things I knew without doubt: Walter's weakness for
alcohol betrayed him, and Grace had been the one to drive him
over the edge.

I looked at Meghan and found an echo of my own profound
sadness.

"Jacob," I said, still looking at Meghan. "Were you in Walter's
house the night after he died?"

In my peripheral vision I saw Debby's head come up to watch
her brother. I turned to Jacob. He radiated misery as he nodded.
"Yeah. Earlier I heard the sirens and saw the ambulance and everything. So I knew somethin' was going on, but not for sure what. So
that night I went to Walter's to see if he could tell me, but he wasn't
home. So I let myself in with that key he left out for us, and I saw
the Rumple Mintz bottle on the counter, open and with part of it
gone. I still didn't know what happened, but I knew it was time to
get rid of it. I'd just finished pourin' it down the sink when you
came in. I waited in the kitchen, scared you'd find me and hopin'
you'd just leave. But you didn't leave. And while I'm standin' there,
I lose my grip on the bottle, and it broke on the floor. So I left."

"And came back later to clean up."
"

I didn't want that bottle around!" His vehemence took me off
guard.

I held up my hands. "Okay. What about the fire?" I didn't know
what Grace was planning next, but I knew it couldn't be good. And
as Richard stood listening to Jacob, I'd seen Meghan very slowly moving back toward the stairs. If I could distract Grace-and
Richard-for long enough, she'd have a good jump at getting
upstairs and locking the door before Richard could catch her or
Grace could shoot her.

Jacob nodded, wretched. "Yeah, that was me, too. I got to wor-
ryin' about that stuff they can do on TV, you know, the crimescene people? I thought they might be able to figure something
out about how I'd done that to the peppermint schnapps, and I'd
get in trouble."

Debby started sobbing. "Oh, Jacob."

"It wasn't 'cause I'm afraid of goin' to jail for what I done, Debs.
I knew I deserved that. But then who'd take care of you?"

"You know you'll have to go to jail, don't you, Jacob?" I kept my
voice gentle, but if he still posed a threat, I wanted to know now,
while Grace still had her gun on him.

Rebellion crossed his face, then slid off. "Yeah. I know." And he
started to cry. "I'm sorry, Debs."

"But that wasn't you driving the truck that almost ran me
down, was it?"

Jacob wiped his eyes-and nose-on his sleeve. "Huh?"

"Downtown, Tuesday afternoon after I talked to you at Beans R
Us. Someone tried to kill me."

He shook his head, a bewildered expression on his face.

I looked at Grace. She wore that tiny smile. More of a smirk,
actually. I longed to smack it off.

"What did I ever do to you, Grace?"

"You're snotty, and you're nosy. And I'm sure you were keeping
Erin from me, along with her mother. But hurting you wouldn't
have done me any good."

"But you drove that truck, didn't you?"

She gave a little nod of acquiescence. "I thought you were
Meghan. I saw you come out of your house, and I went and got the
truck-Richard has a neighbor who leaves the key in his vehicle, can
you believe that in this day and age?-and then came and looked for
you on the street. I saw you walking home from downtown."

Meghan and I exchanged glances. "You thought I was Meghan?
We look nothing alike."

"Your hood was up. You came out of her house. I'd only met
her once, and Richard neglected to tell me his ex-wife had a roommate." She directed a sharp look at her son.

"I get it. You wanted to kill Meghan so Richard would get custody of Erin."

"Not kill. Just.. .hurt a little. Enough so he'd have Erin for a
while." Grace smiled at Meghan, not a nice smile at all. "Richard,
you're not paying attention to your wife. She's trying to get away."

Absently, Richard moved Meghan further into the room. "You
tried to hurt her?" he asked in a hushed voice, as if amazed his
mother could do such a thing.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, nothing happened," she snapped.

"Nothing my aching, bruised ass," I said.

She ignored me. "What's in there?" She pointed to the storeroom.

"Just some inventory," I said.

"Is there a lock on the door?"

" ?"
A/Vhy

She sighed and pointed the gun at me. "Because I'm going to
lock you all in there. I need a little quiet time upstairs before I
leave." She looked at Meghan. "You can save yourself some heartache if you'll just tell me where it is."

"Where what is?"

"You know."

Meghan shook her head, baffled.

"I want what Walter gave Erin."

Meghan drew her eyebrows together. "I have no idea what
you're talking about"

"Oh, come on, honey. You're her mother. Mothers always know.
He gave her something-cash or jewelry or something worth a decent chunk of money. Money he owed me. You know, he never
paid a cent of child support. And, as his wife, I should have received half his lottery winnings."

Meghan could have been looking at a gross but fascinating
insect. "You stole Walter's son and disappeared. Now you're mad
because he didn't give you child support? And you think you're
eligible for community property even though you've committed
bigamy not once, but twice? You're kidding, right?"

Grace's nostrils flared in anger, not a flattering look for her.

Meghan continued. "Walter gave Erin time and attention, but
nothing of monetary value. You must know that after you searched
the house, when you and Richard broke in on the day of the
service."

"She hid it, that's all. Either you're lying, or she didn't tell you,
because Walter assured me he'd arranged it so our granddaughter
would be able to afford college. And that's not cheap. So I'll have
to wait and ask her." She gestured to Richard, not quite pointing
the gun at him, but not being very careful with it, either. "Help me
get them all in that room. If it doesn't have a lock, we'll have to
jam it shut."

Meghan sent me a panicked look as Richard pushed her toward
the door to the storeroom.

"Get up and get moving," Grace walked over and prodded
Debby with her toe. Jacob bent and began talking to his sister in
low tones. "Hurry up," Grace said. "I don't have all day."

Erin shot out of the storeroom, dodging Grace and running for
the door to the backyard.

"Hey!" Grace yelled. And she pointed the gun at Erin's back.

Meghan screamed and Richard shouted, and I reached behind
me without thinking, grabbed the handle of the saucepan and
flung the searing contents at Grace. The molten blend of oil, butter, and wax looped through the air and struck her on the shoulder. It splashed up her bare neck and splattered onto the side of
her face. She howled. The gun dropped from her hand.

I lunged for it, but Jacob reached over and picked it up first.

"Drop it!" came the command from the doorway.

Suddenly the room was full of people, and at least half of them
wore uniforms. Jacob put the gun on the island counter and again
bent to his sister. Debby had stopped crying and stared straight
ahead of her with no expression on her face at all. Sergeant Zahn
scooped up the gun, put it in a bag, and took it out to his car. Barr
Ambrose shouldered his way into the room and over to where I
stood rooted to the spot.

On the floor, Grace moaned and wept. She was a wicked, destructive, self-serving bitch, but I couldn't quite believe I'd hurt
her so badly. I'd never intentionally hurt anyone. Richard moved
toward his mother, but Meghan stepped in front of him. Behind
her, the paramedics hustled in and began tending to the burned woman. They were the same ones who had told me Walter couldn't
be saved.

"Sophie Mae?" Ambrose said in a low voice.

I looked at him standing there next to me, all detective-looking with his belt and gun, and saw a tenderness in his eyes that
nearly shattered my tenuous control. I felt my lower lip quiver, and
promptly fastened it between my teeth.

"She deserved anything she got," he said, putting his hand on
my shoulder and squeezing. I wanted to close my eyes and fold
against him, feel his arms encircle me. I wanted to let go and not
have to deal with any of what was coming. I wanted to rest. I
wanted to be taken care of, for a change.

And I could tell he'd be amenable. His hand on my shoulder
held warmth and reassurance. And warning. Sergeant Zahn had
reentered the basement and watched us from across the room.
This was not the time. Not the place.

The sound of a slap cracked above the voices of emergency
personnel. The paramedics continued to murmur to one another,
but everyone else fell silent, their attention captured by Richard
and Meghan. His cheek blazed red, and her hands were clenched
into fists by her side. The next blow wouldn't be open-handed.

"What the...?" Richard said, staring at his ex-wife.

"You stupid shit. How could you endanger your daughter like
that?"

"I told you, Erin didn't even know I had a gun."

"Not the gun, you moron, though that's bad enough. Your
mother. She was trying to get at Erin, and you knew it! How could
you?"

At least he looked sheepish. "Mother wouldn't have hurt her.
She only wanted whatever Walter had given Erin."

"He didn't give her anything!" Meghan shrieked, finally free to
lose control. She tried some deep breaths. Didn't work, except to
bring her voice down a few decibels. "And if he had, it was for Erin,
not, not... oh, you stupid... oh, god!" Frustration at his deliberate
obtuseness choked off her words.

"I didn't know," he said. No one said anything. Erin sidled over
to me, and I put my arm around her bony shoulders.

He turned to Erin. "I didn't know," he said again.

She turned her face into my side. Sergeant Zahn walked over to
Richard. "You need to come with me, sir."

"Erin?" Richard said.

"Come on." Sergeant Zahn took his arm and led him outside. I
ran my fingers through Erin's curls.

Meghan came to us then, and Erin transferred her grasp to her
mother. Ambrose's hand left my shoulder, and he began reading
Jacob his rights. The paramedics wheeled Grace out to the ambulance, which waited in the alley.

And the questions began.

ERIN, LISTENING TO EVERYTHING from the storeroom, had started
up my computer and instant-messaged her friend Zoe. Zoe's mom
had called the police. Erin had had the foresight to shut the speakers off before she started, so the usual resounding greeting from
the operating system wouldn't give her away. Smart kid.

When the police got there, they saw through the window that
Grace had a gun. They had just decided to shoot her through the
window when Erin made her move, and I disabled Grace with the
medieval weapon of burning oil.

They searched Richard's apartment and found some of our
jewelry and the three boxes of Walter's paperwork. They didn't find
Meghan's engagement ring or my grandmother's gold broach.

Or Mike's wedding band.

My wedding set was there, but not Mike's band. Richard denied
selling anything, as did Grace. One of them was lying. Probably
Richard.

Barr Ambrose put in more overtime hours perusing Walter's
paperwork, but didn't find anything of consequence. Walter didn't
have an insurance policy. He didn't have a will. His last thirty
thousand dollars will be tied up in probate forever and a day, given
the tangled family tree and a few relatives that might be spending
time in jail.

Grace was charged with bigamy, but it turned out Mr. Thorson
had lost his fortune so she wasn't losing out on anything there.
The money she'd gotten from Mr. Bly, Richard's supposed stepfather, was either gone or well concealed someplace offshore. The
California authorities were looking into it, but Ambrose told me
Grace didn't look too worried.

Jacob was charged with second-degree murder, but there is
some question as to whether the county prosecutor has a good
case. He admitted to spiking the Rumple Mintz, but since Walter
didn't usually drink, Jacob's lawyer may try to claim Walter committed suicide after all. Grace Thorson, Hanover, whatever-her
role is too difficult to define or prove. Ambrose said it probably
wouldn't enter into things at all.