Slice and Dice (49 page)

“What’s the sign look like?”

“One of those metal types. White with black lettering. Not very big. Sometimes, if nobody’s been around to cut down the brush, it can get buried.”

“One more reason to love the great outdoors.”

“Just remember it’s about five miles after you turn onto 74.” He took a bite of his sandwich, then chewed for a moment. “Or… is that 17?”

“We’ll find it,” said Bram, feeling that if he stayed a minute longer, he wouldn’t even be able to find his own car.

Kenny dumped Paul’s body in the grass outside the cabin. Yelling for everyone inside to stop their wailing, he rushed back to his car. After opening the trunk, he slipped on a pair of leather gloves, then removed two three-gallon plastic drums and set them on the ground. There was no reason to hurry. The monastery was private property. It wasn’t as if people just wandered in and out. But Kenny knew he couldn’t rest until he’d finished the job he’d come to do.

Picking up the gasoline drums, he headed back to the cabin. The first order of business was to drag Paul’s body farther away from the door. Once he’d positioned him correctly — facedown, left arm pinned beneath him, right arm curved up toward his head — Kenny spent a few minutes wiping his gun clean of prints. Squeezing Paul’s hand around the handle, he positioned the index finger on the trigger and fired, sending a bullet whizzing into the air over the roof. That set up the suicide part of the murder-suicide.

Next, he unscrewed the cap from a plastic drum and began to spread the gasoline around the base of the house. Since it was a wood-frame building, it would go up fast. He would tell the police that, yes, he’d come to the cabin for the family meeting but had left almost immediately, after Nathan had confessed to two murders, George Gildemeister’s and Sean Rafferty’s. He was sickened when he found out the truth. He knew from talking to Paul earlier that he was in a depressed, even desperate mood, but they’d always been such close friends. Perhaps that’s why he’d let Kenny go when he had such a gruesome ending planned for everyone else. It made a good story, the friendship part adding just the right touch of pathos.

The light was fading fast, which was perfect in Kenny’s estimation. He emptied the first drum on the side of the house that faced the river, then fetched the second. As he worked his way around the back, he found himself whistling for the first time in years. It wouldn’t be long before all his problems would be over. Instead of being the object of loathing, he and Emily would be pitied by a compassionate nation. Perhaps he’d even call Marie Damontraville and offer her an exclusive interview. For a price, of course, most likely a cut of the royalties. But one thing was for sure. The Buckridge name, while sullied, would continue under Kenny’s leadership to be a viable force in the American culinary community.

Out on the highway both Bram and Harry missed the sign that would have directed them into the main gate of the monastery. After they realized they’d gone too far, they backed into a dirt road overgrown with weeds and turned around. A few minutes later Bram spied several cars parked in a small clearing. He pulled off the road into a patch of scrub brush, then switched off the motor. He’d expected to find Nathan’s and Sophie’s cars, but there were three more, none of which he recognized. He assumed they belonged to Nathan’s family, and that meant he wasn’t sure what he was about to walk in on.

“Stay here,” he said to Harry. “I’ll be right back.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Bram wasn’t sure at all, but he’d rather keep Harry where he knew he wouldn’t have to worry about him, especially if matters got ugly.

Heading up the path toward what looked like a chapel, he tried to make as little noise as possible. He had the element of surprise on his side and he didn’t want to blow it. As he neared a low, vine-covered building, he thought he smelled gasoline. He glanced toward the river thinking that there might be a boat landing somewhere close, but the water was too far away — and the smell was too strong.

Panic seized him as he rounded the rear of the building and saw a man dumping gasoline around the base of a small cabin. Since nobody else was around, Bram knew it could only mean one thing.

With no time to plan, he rushed forward and dove at the man’s feet, sending him sprawling. When a lighter flew past his head, Bram knew he’d arrived just in time. Another few seconds and the cabin would have gone up in flames — with Sophie inside. He didn’t know that for a fact, but he
knew.

Bram struggled with the man in the grass, trying to pin his shoulders. “Merlin!” he said finally, his hands groping to find his jaw, his neck. “Where’s my wife?” he said, pressing hard, forcing his head back.

“Who the hell are you?” choked Kenny. Without waiting for an answer, he slammed a knee into Bram’s stomach. Bram doubled over and Kenny slid out from under him. A second later something hard and heavy caught Bram in the stomach again. As he twisted onto his back, he saw that it was one of Kenny’s size-ten wing tips. The blow left him gasping for air. Even so, he managed to grab Kenny’s leg as he tried to stand and flipped him on his back. Bram’s eyes raked around wildly, looking for a weapon. That’s when he saw a stack of logs piled next to the cabin. He scrambled toward them. When he looked around, he saw that Kenny was heading straight for him, a steel crowbar held over his head. Bram had no idea where he’d found it, but as it sliced through the air in front of him, he ducked out of the way. Then he swung a log hard at Kenny’s midsection — and connected.

Kenny grunted as he hit the grass face first. In a flash, Bram was on top of him. He tried to jam Kenny’s arm behind his back, but die man was surprisingly strong. They rolled around, all arms and legs, slugging and struggling and swearing, until somehow they were both standing again. Bram took a couple of deep breaths to get his bearings, but Kenny had already grabbed for the log. He lunged at Bram so fast, all Bram could do was duck. This time, however, as he shot back up, Kenny connected with a vicious blow. Pain exploded inside Bram’s head. Staggering backward, he fell against a bush, sinking into the branches. He didn’t black out, but a thick fog enveloped him. He struggled not to fade, but the soft blackness at the edges of his mind seemed so inviting. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw that the building was ablaze.

“No!” he screamed, trying to extricate himself from the grasping branches.

“Jesus,” snarled Kenny, turning around. “What the hell is your head made of?”

His head might be hard, but the rest of his body felt like jelly. He tried to get up, but before he made it very far, Kenny was standing over him with the crowbar.

“Feel a little like a fly trapped in honey, do you?” the lawyer asked. “Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing in a minute.” He raised the bar with both hands.

“Drop it!” came a deep voice from behind them.

Kenny whirled around just as Harry lifted a gun and pointed it directly at his chest. The light was almost gone now, but the spreading fire lent an eerie glow to the scene.

“Mr. Hongisto,” said Kenny, his expression turning flat. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m with him.” He nodded to Bram. “Put it down. Now!”

Kenny dropped the crowbar in the grass.

Bram tried once more to get up. This time he made it. Whipping off his tie, he bound Kenny’s hands behind his back, then ordered him to sit down. As he dashed past Harry, he told the older man to keep Kenny covered. “Don’t take your eyes off him, got that? Not until I come back.”

“Will do.”

Bursting into the cabin through the already open front door, Bram found the interior thick with smoke. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand, not that it helped much. He could make out the outlines of people seated around the room, all bound and gagged. He rushed to Sophie first, pulling the tape off her mouth.

She choked on the smoke, coughed deeply, then rasped, “Get a knife from the kitchen to cut us loose. Otherwise it’s going to take forever.”

Bram realized she was right. But he didn’t have to go to the kitchen. He always carried a tiny pocketknife. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. In a matter of seconds, he had her hands free and then her legs. “Get out of here,” he ordered. “I’ll take care of the rest.” He could tell she didn’t want to leave. “Don’t make me carry you out. There isn’t time! Crawl. There’s more air near the floor. And call 911.” He handed her his cell phone, hoping it hadn’t been broken during the fight.

Reluctantly she did as he asked.

After she was safely outside, Bram turned his attention to Constance. She’d already passed out from the smoke, but Arthur, who was sitting next to her, was still conscious. Bram worked quickly to free them both, then helped Arthur drag her out the front door and down the steps, finally laying her on the grass.

“Where’s Nathan?” shouted Sophie.

Suddenly from inside the cabin came the sound of cracking and then breaking wood. One of the ceiling joists crashed diagonally across the room as part of the roof collapsed inward.

Sophie screamed.

“You can’t go back in there,” shouted Arthur. “He’s my son. Let me do it.” Before anyone could stop him, he rushed back into the burning cabin.

Bram and Sophie knelt next to Constance, checking her vital signs. She had some burns on her right arm and shoulder. The wounds looked deep and painful. It was probably best that she was unconscious.

“Did you call 911 ?” asked Bram.

Sophie coughed. “They’re coming.”

“Tie smoke’s so thick in there it’s like the middle of the night.” Bram coughed a few more times himself, trying to clear his lungs. “Maybe I should —”

“No.” Sophie gripped his hand. “You stay put.”

He could see not only the fear in her eyes but also the resolve.

An instant later Arthur appeared. He was on his hands and knees, struggling to drag Nathan out of the door by using the belt of his robe. Arthur looked as if he was about to collapse.

Bram and Sophie rushed to his side.

The steps were burning now, but they managed to get them both down to the grass without anyone’s clothing catching on fire. Nathan was out cold, but he was breathing. Arthur was coughing so deeply he couldn’t talk. His hands also looked like they were badly burned. But they were all alive.

Sophie grabbed Bram and held him tight. “You were my only hope. But I didn’t think you’d come. When the fire started outside and we could see it climbing the walls, coming in through the windows…” She stopped and closed her eyes.

Bram brushed the soot off her cheeks, then crushed her in his arms. She was shivering. “I’ll always come, sweetheart. I knew you needed me. I don’t know how, but I did.”

“Must be ESP,” she whispered.

“Good karma.”

“A true Zen connection.”

He smiled, kissing her softly. “Or maybe it’s just love.”

On Sunday morning Sophie and Bram sat in the passenger lounge outside gate 31, waiting for Rudy and John’s plane to land. After a night spent partly at the hospital and then later at the police station, they’d arrived late at the airport, hoping the plane hadn’t arrived early. But when they checked the
ARRIVALS
and
DEPARTURES
screens as they came in the doors, they saw that Sight 892 from St. Louis had a flashing
DELAYED
sign next to it.

“Now what?” asked Sophie, too exhausted to be worried but worried nonetheless.

“It’s probably nothing,” Bram assured her. “I got on a plane once in Detroit. We couldn’t leave because the food hadn’t been delivered yet. We must have twiddled our thumbs for an hour before the plane was stocked and ready for takeoff.”

Sophie wanted to believe the cause of the delay was something that simple, especially after what they’d been through last night. But the way her fortunes had been running, she had a feeling this was more of the same. “We better ask somebody what’s going on.”

After waiting in line for half an hour to talk to a TWA official, they were informed that Rudy and John’s plane from Washington, D.C., had been late landing in St. Louis and that the connecting flight from St. Louis to Minneapolis/St. Paul International had experienced a mechanical problem just before takeoff. The woman suggested that if they moved to the gate, someone there would keep them updated about the status of the flight.

“Why can’t they tell us whether or not the plane’s taken off?” asked Sophie, peering into her paper coffee cup as if it contained something suspicious.

Bram shrugged. “Bureaucrats. They’re everywhere. Under rocks. Hanging from trees.”

They’d certainly run into their share of bureaucrats last night.

As soon as the police, the paramedics, and the fire department had arrived at the monastery, Kenny Merlin was taken into custody and everyone else was hustled to the nearest hospital. The medical examiner had been called to deal with Paul’s body but didn’t arrive until after they were gone. While they were waiting to get into the paramedic van, Sophie watched the firefighters hose down the burning cabin until it posed no danger to the other buildings.