The Curse of the Holy Pail #2 (37 page)

"So you have that bitch's cat," Stella said, her voice thick and nasally. "She tried to blame us."

Willie indicated the bag. "Poor thing misses his mama." He clucked a bit. "Little guy has one nasty temper."

He looked down at Stella. "So where is Odelia?"

Stella said nothing.

Willie approached and squatted in front of her. "Where's Odelia Grey?"

When she remained silent, Willie cocked his arm back and smacked her hard with the hand holding the gun. Stella went sprawling in the dirt.

"She's someplace around here," Kyle gushed with his familiar whine. "And she's not alone. There's a guy with her. An attorney from her office. My father's attorney. He's injured, so they couldn't have gotten far."

"And she has the Holy Pail," Stella chimed in with a snivel.

"Good," Willie said, his voice light and casual, "I was hoping she would."

Willie stood up and looked around. "Odelia, come on out," he called loudly. "It's safe now." He put the pillowcase on the ground, cupped his free hand to his mouth, and called again. "Odie, Odie, Oxen Free. Come out, come out, wherever you are."

I wanted to believe him. I needed to get help for Steele.

Trying to make up my mind, I watched as Willie hovered over the two on the ground. "She'd better be okay," he told them. "Enrique here has grown rather fond of her."

As if in reply, Enrique moved a step closer with his gun.

"Why did you come back, William?" Stella asked, finally getting up her courage.

"Why, for you, baby," Willie cooed at her. "Why else? We have a little debt to settle, don't you think?"

Stella shrank from him. "I ... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, sure you do. I'm sure you remember the little matter of squealing on me to the feds and my hasty departure. And I know you remember Ivan Fisher and your latest conquest, Sterling Price. Oh, and don't forget my wife. You do remember my wife, don't you?"

He leaned in closer to her. "Well, Stella, darling, I'm here to make sure you don't hurt anyone ever again."

I watched in horror as Willie gave a sign to Enrique, who obeyed by jerking Stella up and onto her knees. Then he put the barrel of his gun to the back of her head, execution-style.

Kyle started blubbering. Willie turned to him with a look of disgust.

"You're Sterling's son, aren't you?"

Kyle nodded as he sobbed.

Willie considered him for a long moment. "Too bad you don't have even a modicum of your father's decency." He looked at Enrique. "Maybe we should do him first, seeing he's so pathetic and all."

Wordlessly, Enrique moved a step sideways and placed the gun to the back of Kyle's head. I thought Kyle was going to wet himself, he went so white. Stella slumped to the ground, crying.

"You have no reason to kill me," Kyle moaned.

"Give me a good reason not to," Willie said.

"No, don't!" I screamed. I quickly stood up and edged out from between the buildings. My hands were above my head in surrender. The battered Holy Pail dangled from one hand.

Willie turned toward me, but Enrique never moved. The gun stayed at the back of Kyle Price's head.

"Please don't kill them," I said again in a weak voice, trying to sound strong. "I'll give you the lunchbox. Just don't kill them."

"Odelia!" Willie cried in what seemed like delight. "We have a good friend of yours here." He nudged the bulging pillowcase with his foot and received a hiss in return.

Willie's exuberance made me nervous. He might be as insane as Stella and Kyle, only more dangerous. I walked slowly up to Willie, my hands still up in the air.

He laughed. "Put your hands down, woman. You look ridiculous."

My arms fell to my side. "Willie, please don't kill them."

He leaned close to whisper. "I told you I was a thief, not a killer, Odelia. This little dog-and-pony show is to put the fear of God in Stella."

"Well, it worked on me," I whispered back, not enjoying his little joke at all. If it was a joke.

I held out the Holy Pail to him. "Trade you," I said, "the box for my cat, like you promised."

Willie looked puzzled. "Like I promised?" Then he smiled. "I think you have me confused with someone else."

"You didn't trash my place and hold my cat ransom?"

"Of course not, little mama. We'd already searched your place. But there is someone you might be interested in meeting a little later."

He looked at the lunchbox in my hand and frowned. "You didn't have it all along, did you?"

I shook my head. "Amy Chow took it. Like you first suspected."

A loud kitty growl came from the wiggling bundle near Willie's feet. I handed him the Holy Pail and bent down to check on Seamus. For my loving efforts, I received a nasty hiss and sharp claws aimed in my direction, fabric or not. Instead of opening the sack, I picked it up by the top and held it at arm's length.

"I think I'd better open this little package at home."

Willie lifted up the lunchbox and turned it around, inspecting it. "Looks like you kept up your end of the bargain and destroyed the Holy Pail like I asked." He grinned at me.

Turning his attention back to the scum on the ground, he asked, "So which of you killed Sterling Price?"

Neither answered. Enrique pressed the gun hard against Kyle's head. He started whimpering.

"I don't know who killed my father." He pointed feebly at Stella, careful not to appear to be making a fast move. "But Stella attacked my sister and brother-in-law. I had nothing to do with it. Nothing." He dissolved into tears. But unlike Stella's earlier performance, his were real.

"Shut up, you idiot," Stella screamed at him.

Willie squatted in front of her again and held his gun in her face. "Did you kill your sugar daddy?"

"No, I didn't."

"Why do I not believe you?"

"I swear I didn't." Stella cleared her throat. "It was Amy Chow. She poisoned the coffee that morning. But it was a mistake."

"Seems there are lots of mistakes being made," I said, wondering if she was using young Amy as a scapegoat.

"Well, that one was a doozy," Stella said with a sick grin. "Amy was supposed to put something in the coffee just to make him a little sick, enough for him to go home early so she could steal the lunchbox. But she had no idea how poisonous oleander is or how much to use."

That wasn't the plan. That's what Amy had said to me.

A murderer had driven off into the desert, and I had helped her load her luggage.

THIRTY

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING to do with them?" I asked Willie.

He was still squatting in front of Stella, eyeing her miserable, battered face, lost in thought.

"Leave them with you," he said. "Enrique and I will tie them up. Then you can call the cops." He looked up at me. "Hope you understand if we don't stick around."

I gave him a tired, small smile. "I'll have to talk to the police about you. You know that."

Willie stood up and faced me. "Little mama, I wouldn't expect anything less out of you."

He said something to Enrique in Spanish. Enrique stored his gun behind him and from his pocket pulled something that looked like thin cord. He yanked the sniveling Kyle to his feet and dragged him over to a post attached to one of the buildings, where he dumped him back on the ground. He made quick work out of tying Kyle up to one of the posts. Once done, he moved on to Stella.

Just as Enrique was trying to get Stella up and on her feet, we heard a loud noise coming from behind the buildings.

"Steele," I said. I placed the bundled cat back on the ground and rushed to where the scrub area joined with the road.

Sure enough, it was Steele. He was hanging out of the wagon, trying to get out. Panic filled his face.

He waved his good arm and shouted at me. "Run, Grey, run!" Then he lost what little balance he had and keeled over the end, onto the ground.

"Steele!" I yelled.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Stella struck like a cobra. She kicked at Willie's legs, sending him tumbling and his gun sliding. At the same time, her head rammed back and caught the usually diligent Enrique square in his face. A sickening crunch echoed when her skull hit his nose. He slumped to the ground.

Buoyed by the change of events, Kyle yelled, "The gun, Stella, go for the gun!"

Willie and Stella both dived for Willie's gun, wrestling in the dirt together as they crawled toward it. The air was populated with grunts and curses.

I looked in the direction of the wagon. Steele lay motionless on the ground next to it. Torn between helping Steele and helping Willie and Enrique, I stood, momentarily cemented to the ground. But if Stella reached the gun before anyone else, there might not be anyone left to help.

Decision made, I dashed to help Willie, taking a shortcut across the rickety wooden sidewalk of the small, beat-up building. I had only gone a couple of steps when I felt pain in my ankle and one of my moving legs go taut. I fell sprawling onto the sidewalk, scraping my face on the wood. Something had grabbed my foot, and that something was a hole in the dilapidated planks. I struggled to free my foot, but only succeeded in tangling it further. I tried to slip out of my sneaker, but the hole had swallowed my foot to above the ankle bone. I watched with wide-eyed helplessness at the struggle going on, and cheered on Willie in response to Kyle's shouts.

The gun was within reach of their fingers. If Stella was the one to reach it first, I was toast, served up hot and fresh on a platter. I had no doubt that she'd kill me and everyone else in her bid to make a getaway. I continued to struggle to free my foot.

When I saw Stella's fingers touch the gun barrel ahead of Willie's, I started stomping at the hole in the splintered plank like a madwoman, hoping to break it down further and free the trapped foot. I stomped and stomped, using all my weight to work at the already weakened boards. It worked. The old wood gave way. With a desperate yank, I managed to pull my foot out, leaving the sneaker behind. Ignoring the searing pain in my ankle, I flew in the direction of the scuffle. But my ankle wouldn't hold, and I collapsed in the dirt just beyond the sidewalk.

Willie and Stella both had their hands on the gun. Stella was surprisingly strong. Kyle continued to encourage her. He was screaming for her to look out, letting her know I was free. Enrique was moving slowly, trying to shake off his daze. On my hands and knees, I tried crawling to the scuffle. But it was too late.

Only one hand had possession of the gun now-a woman's hand. Raising it, she clubbed Willie in the head and untangled herself from his clutches. After struggling to her feet, she put some distance between herself and us and held the gun steady, sweeping between us, looking for a reason to shoot.

I sat up, breathing heavy, and felt something hard under one of my buttocks. Hoping not to attract attention, I slowly moved one hand under me. It was Stella's gun-the one that went flying when Enrique kicked it. It was the first time in my life I had ever felt the cold and fearsome sensation of gunmetal.

Willie was sitting up now. About ten feet away in another direction, Enrique, too, was sitting. He seemed to be alert, but the front of his handsome face was bloodied.

"Way to go, babe," said Kyle happily. "Now come untie me."

"Seems the tables have turned, Stella," Willie said. "But you can't cover us all. So, who you gonna shoot first?" He gave an ugly chuckle.

Stella's nervous ball-bearing eyes darted about, taking in each of us in quick succession, weighing who was her biggest threat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Enrique go for the gun at the small of his back.

Scared spitless, I braced myself for a gunfight at the OK Corral.

"Look out," shouted Kyle.

A shot rang like thunder. Enrique grabbed his right shoulder and fell back in the dirt. Stella aimed the gun again at the young man. Another shot rang out. This time it was Stella who staggered.

I clutched the gun so hard with both hands, I felt my bones mold themselves to the grip. Stella looked at me. On her face was complete and honest shock, her mouth poised in a silent Oh. With one hand, she clutched her middle, as if trying to staunch the blood that was beginning to flow. The other still held the gun. She aimed it at me and screeched like a banshee.

Another shot.

This time she fell, motionless.

Silence fell so hard it was deafening. We sat there, too shocked to move, until Kyle sent up a shrill shriek of grief like a coyote over its dead mate. It sent shivers up my spine and released me from my trance. Only then did I realize I was holding a fired gun in my hands.

Willie reached me first and worked to release my fingers from the gun. "Come on, little mama," he cooed. "You can let go of that now." Silently, I let Willie take the gun from me.

I stared at the fallen body of Stella Hughes and listened to the continued wails of Kyle. A strong hand gripped me under an upper arm and gently encouraged me to my feet. It was Willie. My right ankle couldn't support me, so he put an arm around me and helped me hobble to some steps.

Once he had me settled, he kissed the top of my head and said, "Be good, little mama."