Deadly Offer (21 page)

“Hurry,” Darby implored. “But be careful on the stairs.”

The thump of Sophie’s footsteps receded as the teen climbed up the stairs. Moments later she was pounding down them and back at Darby’s side.

“Here, maybe this will work.” She rubbed a rusty corner of an old blade against the tape. It slipped and cut through Darby’s flesh.

“Ow!”

“Sorry! You’ve had a tetanus shot, right?”

“Probably, but truthfully tetanus is the least of our problems. Keep up the good work, Sophie, you’re making headway.” Finally the tape gave way and Darby pointed at her ankles. “See what kind of damage you can do to my feet,” she said.

Sophie sawed at the tape with the rusty blade. “I figured out today that it was Andrea who killed Selena Thompson,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice. “I’ve been watching her like a hawk.”

“Well, you did better than me,” Darby said, looking toward the old stairs with trepidation. Her hands were finally free and feeling normal. “I thought it was Margo.”

“I did, too, until I realized what Mr. Contento
really
said when he died.”

“What was that?”

“Well, Margo said it was ‘Ahab’s life,’ so of course you think about Moby Dick and Captain Ahab. Today I started thinking that she heard him wrong. What if he said, ‘Ahab’s wife?’” Sophie sat back on her haunches, and Darby could sense that she wore a triumphant smile.

“Okay, you’re going to have to explain this to me, but first give me that blade for a while.” Sophie passed her the rusted metal and Darby began sawing at the tape. “Fill me in. Who’s Ahab’s wife? I don’t remember anything in
Moby Dick
.”

“That’s because it’s not from
Moby Dick
,” Sophie said. “Ahab was also the name of a famous king in the Bible. His wife was called Jezebel. She had their neighbor killed because the King coveted something the neighbor owned. Know what it was?”

“No.” Darby had nearly freed her ankles.

“A vineyard. Jezebel got her neighbor stoned to death so that they could scoop up his vineyard.” She paused and let the words sink in. “See, Michael Contento was a professor. He said, “Ahab’s wife,” because he wanted us to know that Andrea was just like Jezebel.”

“Why didn’t he just say that Andrea had done it, save us all a lot of time?” Darby gave a last push with the blade as the tape finally gave way. She wriggled her ankles and scrambled to her feet as the loud blare of a cell phone playing “Red, Red, Wine,” split the silence.

“Crap! It’s my dad again.”

“Answer it!” Darby said. “Maybe he’s nearby.”

“Hey Dad? It’s me, Sophie, and I’m—”

Thwack!
A hard blow sent the cell phone flying from Sophie’s hand. Darby tensed, ready to spring, when she saw the situation.

Sophie was trapped in a headlock. Andrea had managed to sneak down the stairs and locate the gun and now its barrel was pressed against Sophie’s skull. She dragged the girl to the phone, lowered herself down, straightened, and then heaved the phone into the darkness.

“Looks like I did the right thing in turning down dessert,” she muttered. “Who would have guessed you’d have a little teen sidekick to help you out of jams?” She jerked her head toward the corner. “Get on the ground, Darby.”

Darby crouched, her hands feeling for the rusty blade.

“Get over there next to your friend,” Andrea commanded, shoving
Sophie. “She’s the one who’ll keep you company while you both die.”

Darby’s fingers scrabbled along the dirt in search of the blade.

“They won’t find you down here, and even if they do, I’ll be long gone,” Andrea said, almost as if she were convincing herself.

“I told my Dad,” Sophie insisted. “He’s on his way!”

“You did not, Sophie. I heard you.” She waved the gun. “You’ve left me no choice but to shoot you both. It’s not my style, but I’ve got to do it.”

“You don’t,” Darby said, stretching her hand and searching for the blade. “Let us go now and the courts will show leniency.”

“Right! After I poisoned Selena? I don’t think so.”

“Selena was sick. You felt sorry for her.” Darby’s index finger found the edge of the blade. She strained to pull it closer.

“That’s the argument my lawyer would take, if I were going to be tried. Which I’m not, because I’m getting on a plane and disappearing as soon as I kill you both.” She waved the gun. “Say your prayers.”

Darby did say a quick prayer for an accurate throw as she hurled the blade toward Andrea’s chest. Diving at Sophie, she pushed
the girl out of the path of danger. The gun went off, its roar echoing in the darkness, but Darby was already on her feet, the years of training in Aikido flooding through her brain.

Without wasting a second, she grabbed Andrea’s forearm, twisting it backwards and removing the gun. A well-placed kick to her a
ssailant’s calf sent the woman sprawling face first onto the floor of the cave.

“Wow,” Sophie breathed. “That was pretty cool.”

Darby’s heart was pounding. Keeping the gun trained on Andrea, she asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Darby could hear Sophie struggling to her feet.

“I’ll stay here with her. Go on outside and find some help.”

Sophie moved warily past the prostrate Andrea and toward the stairs. Darby heard her climbing the rickety structure and was just about to remind her to be careful when there was a loud crash.

The stairs had collapsed.

Nineteen

Dan Stewart heard the
gunshot as he jumped out of his jeep and began running across the Contento’s lush lawn.

“What’s going on?” Tim Contento stood on the porch, his hands in a questioning gesture. His bald head glistened under the porch’s light. “What is it, Dan?”

“That shot—where did it come from?”

“I don’t know. Probably a hunter looking for quail or something. What’s going on?”

Dan paused, his heart pounding. “I’m trying to find Sophie. She’s been missing for several hours.”

“She’s not here.”

“Who is?”

“Margo and I are inside, and Andrea just went out to check on something.”

Detective Nardone emerged from the shadows. “Where is Andrea?”

“She’s in the old barn,” said a clear voice from the porch. Margo Contento had a strange expression on her face. “I think I may know why you want her.”

———

“Crap!” Sophie yelled into the darkness.

“Are you hurt?”

“I think I broke my foot.” Darby heard the girl’s muffled movements. “Ahhh … Ahhh … I’m sure I broke my foot.”

“Are you bleeding?”

“A little.”

“Where?”

“I hit my head.”

“Okay, listen to me. You may have a concussion, Sophie, so I don’t want you to move too much. Can you find where you are bleeding?”

“Yes.”

“Can you put pressure on it until I get there? I’m going to see if I can find that cell phone of yours and call for help.” She didn’t voice her real fear: what if Sophie had sustained a severe neck or head injury?

“Ow!” Sophie moaned. “Okay, I’m applying pressure to the bleeding.”

“Good.” Darby glanced at the huddled form of Andrea, still motionless on the basement floor. If she had the duct tape readily available, she could restrain her, but she didn’t want to waste precious time searching for the duct tape. Sophie needed help, and quickly.

Still clutching the revolver, Darby moved to the edges of the cave, using her toe to probe the dirt floor. She hit something and it clanged against a rock. She knelt to touch it. Was it the cell phone?
A bottle.
Staying on her knees, she reached with her hands until she located a rectangular object.

Sophie’s cell
. Now Darby prayed that the thing would still work.

“I found your phone,” she called out. It was the flip type, but Darby didn’t want to waste time trying to figure it out. “I’m coming over to you so we can call your dad.” She took a step toward Sophie. Suddenly her ankle was seized and yanked with an inhuman strength. Darby fell heavily to the ground.

Andrea Contento loomed over her, her hands stretched toward Darby’s throat. Like an apparition from a bad horror flick she intoned, “You are dead …”

Darby held out the gun and pulled the trigger, expecting the recoil to slam her head against the dirt.
Nothing.
She tried again.

Andrea was upon her, shaking her with rib-cracking force, and the gun skittered out of her hand. Darby fought to flip Andrea and succeeded, the two wrestling along the damp earth floor. Andrea brought her knee into Darby’s chest and for a moment the realtor was winded. Darby let go of Andrea and groped on the ground for some kind of weapon.

Her hand closed on the broken wine bottle.
Smash!
She brought it down upon Andrea’s skull and the impact shattered the glass into hundreds of tiny shards. Andrea went limp.

“Darby?” Sophie’s voice sounded small. Scared.

“It’s okay, honey,” Darby said. “It’s finally over.”

———

The voice of Dan Stewart echoed off the damp cave walls. “Sophie! Are you down there?”

“Yes, Dad.” The teen’s voice was feeble, and Darby knew she needed medical attention, and fast.

“Dan, it’s Darby. Sophie’s taken a fall and has at least one broken bone, probably a concussion as well. Have you called an ambulance?”

“On the way.” Dan mumbled something to someone else in the barn. “Tim and I are going to get a ladder down here just as soon as we can.”

“Dad?” Darby could hear the panic in Sophie’s voice. “Dad, don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Sophie Doo,” he said soothingly. “Tim has gone to get that ladder and I’m staying right here.” He raised his voice. “How about you, Darby? Are you okay?”

“Yes.”
Bruised, battered, and chilled to the bone, but alive and well
, she thought. And Andrea? Darby could hear nothing from the woman, not even a moan.

“Sophie, I’m coming over to see how you’re doing,” Darby said in a confident voice. “Okay?”

“What about—”

“She’s not going to bother us anymore.” Darby picked her way along the cave floor and through the rubble that had been the stairs. Sophie was lying on her back, a mound of debris on one leg. Darby was careful to keep her voice neutral.

“Okay, we’re going to get you out of here just as soon as we can,”
she said. She reached down and touched the girl’s shoulder. “You hanging in there?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you wiggle your toes?”

“Sure. That was the first thing I did, Darby. I am a candy striper,
remember.”

In the darkness Darby smiled. “Oh, yeah.” She bent and grabbed a chunk of wood. “Then let’s see if we can get some of this pile off you.”

———

Only later, after Sophie was safely lifted from the cave and loaded onto a stretcher, and Darby herself had climbed the ladder and emerged into the barn, did Darby think about Andrea Contento’s condition. A second team of paramedics was attending to her, with Detective Nardone hovering alongside.

———

As the paramedics began loading her into an ambulance, Andrea Contento managed to open one of her eyes. Though her vision was blurry and bloodied, she knew the person climbing into the vehicle beside the gurney was Detective Nardone. “She’s a flight risk,” Andrea heard her explain to the technician. “I’m not taking the chance that she escapes.”

Andrea’s whole body ached and her head pounded from the encounter with the wine bottle. She thought about the private jet waiting to whisk her to a remote Caribbean island and gritted her teeth.
I must escape.

———

The cup of coffee was warm in Darby’s hands, although it was doing nothing to banish the chill that seemed to have settled in her bones. She looked across the table in the Contento kitchen, where Margo and Tim sat in stunned silence. Moments before, the last of the ambulances had exited the property, sirens wailing, on its way to Ventano Valley Community Hospital.

“When did you figure it out, Margo?” Darby asked quietly.

Margo sighed and looked up. “I didn’t,” she admitted. “I never suspected Andrea.” The shrug of her shoulders was a tired one. “She and Selena had been such good friends.”

“What was it your father said to you the day he died, when you argued?”

Margo frowned. “He said that he saw me crouching by the
cabana on the afternoon Selena died. He said he knew it was me because he saw my blonde hair.”

Darby took a sip of the coffee. “Why did you tell me that Michael saw Kohler?”

She shot a guilty look at her brother. “Because I knew Dad had seen someone else, wearing a blonde wig, and I was afraid …”

Tim Contento put his hands on his head and gave a snort of disgust. “You suspected me? Thanks a lot!” He scowled at Margo. “I can’t believe you could think for one minute that I’d kill anyone, much less Selena.”

“I realize now it was stupid,” Margo admitted sheepishly. “But I remembered you from Halloween. You made such a convincing Marilyn Monroe …”

Tim shook his head, looked back at his sister’s face, and suddenly barked out a laugh. “You jerk!”

Margo looked relieved. She gave a helpless smile. “Plus you take those beta blockers. I found them in your car.”

“I take them for stage fright, before I have to make one of those Contento corporate talks.” He rolled his eyes. “Not everyone can be as self-assured as you, Margo.”

Watching the interaction between the siblings, Darby realized the family dynamic was an old one. Margo had acted as she had throughout her life—she’d protected her twin. ET and Carlos had tried to do much the same thing for their sister.

“You both should know that Andrea was planning to run away somewhere. She’s undoubtedly gotten hold of some money.”

“We’ll alert the banks tomorrow,” Tim said ruefully. “Not much we can do tonight.”

Darby took a last sip of coffee and stood on shaky legs. “No, there’s not much any of us can do but try to get some rest. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Let me give you a ride back to Carson Creek,” insisted Tim. “It’s the least we can do.”

“No, I can manage,” she said with a tired smile. “I’m looking forward to a nice hot shower and a good night’s sleep.”

“Me too,” Margo said, “Except I don’t think it’s going to happen. I’m absolutely stunned. How could Andrea have killed Selena? Why?”

“It was just like Sophie said,” Tim intoned. “She wanted that damn vineyard.”

———

Forty-five minutes later, Darby lay in bed in Selena’s guest room and dialed Miles. He was silent as she relayed the events of the evening.

“You could have been killed,” he said. “That maniac could have shot you and that young girl as well.”

“I know.” What else was there to say, really? It was all too true: Andrea Contento had nearly ended both their lives. “If it hadn’t been for Sophie, I might still be lying in that cave.” She recalled the duct tape across her face and the bristly feeling of the rat against her thigh and shuddered.

“Listen, I can jump in my car this minute and motor to the vineyard,” he said. “I’m only an hour or so away.”

“You’re too good to me.” She sighed. “Maybe I’m overly optimistic, but I feel as if I’m actually going to get some sleep tonight.” She paused. “Will you drive up in the morning?”

“Absolutely. You get some rest, and I shall be there when you awake.”

Darby smiled and turned out the light.

———

Dan Stewart shook hands with the orthopedic surgeon and headed
back to the ER waiting room. Dr. Beaumarron had scrutinized the
x-ray and assured him that Sophie’s ankle would be fine, that the break
was fairly clean, and that her young bones would heal splen
didly. “She’ll be ready to go home in a half-hour or so,” he assured
Dan. “Go get yourself a cup of that awful hospital coffee and watch
some CNN. We’re taking good care of Sophie—she’s one of the staff’s favorite candy stripers.”

Dan smiled as he walked back to the waiting room with its plastic chairs and tired magazines. As he passed the curtained-off exam areas, he glimpsed a thickset police officer standing guard next to someone lying flat on a stretcher.

Andrea Contento.

Dan’s jaw tightened and he stopped, mid-step, paralyzed by a rage he didn’t know he could possess. She had killed Selena, she had tried to kill Darby, and most important—she had been ready to take the life of his fourteen-year-old daughter. And for what? For a stinking twenty acres of land?

He felt the tenseness of his entire upper body, as if he were a spring ready to uncoil, or a tiger at a watering hole, ready to pounce on an unsuspecting antelope.
I could crush her with my bare hands. And it would feel good
…

Just then he registered a light touch on his elbow. He turned in a jerky motion toward the sensation, and saw a young intern peering at his face. Concern clouded her eyes. “Hey,” she said softly. “You’re Sophie’s dad, right?”

He nodded numbly. His eyes slid once more toward the exam room, and then back to the young doctor.

“I just left Sophie. She’s feeling so much better and is excited to be going home.” Now her eyes darted to the patient lying behind the curtain. She nodded imperceptibly, as if she understood the whole tense tableau, and placed her hand once more on his arm. “Come with me,” she coaxed, giving his shirt a gentle tug. “Let me tell you about the funny thing that happened the last time Sophie was volunteering. I was doing rounds and there was this lady from L.A.—”

He felt himself guided down the hallway, away from the malevolent form lying in the exam room, and into the cheerless waiting room that suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

———

Darby awoke to sunshine peeking through the windows, followed a split second later by Jasper jumping on her chest. He fixed his penetrating amber eyes on her face and gave a loud yowl.

“Jasper, you’ve finally made a noise,” Darby said. “What’s the big occasion?”

Miles entered with a tray of food, graced by a few asters in a small vase. “I’m afraid our feline friend likes salmon,” he said. “I’ve never seen him quite so animated.”

Darby giggled. “Did he let you in, as well? I could have sworn I locked that door last night.”

“You don’t have to be in America too long to realize that you Yanks always put a spare key under the flowerpot,” Miles quipped. “Besides, I didn’t want to wake you.”

She sat up, smoothing her old Chargers tee-shirt, wishing she’d worn an attractive nightgown, and surveyed the breakfast before her. “Umm … a spinach frittata with salmon? Miles, you are amazing.”

He grinned. “I like the sound of that. Would you mind terribly saying it again?”

She acquiesced. “Miles, you are amazing.”

He leaned forward, careful not to spill the tray, ready to plant a kiss on her lips. She held up a hand in alarm.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” she protested.

He brushed the hair from her face. “Darby, I don’t give a toss.”

“Is that sort of like what Rhett Butler said to Scarlett?”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

———

Nancy Nardone emerged from her sedan, slammed the door, and crossed over the pebbled driveway to the unfamiliar car in Carson Creek Estate & Winery’s lot. She peered in the window, spotting a tweed jacket folded neatly on the passenger side seat.
It’s the British guy, Miles, the one who’s head over heels for Darby,
she reasoned. She glanced at her watch. Nearly noon. Whatever they’d been up to was undoubtedly over by now.