Murder on the First Day of Christmas (Chloe Carstairs Mysteries) (37 page)

     “They shot the guy?”

     “It was quick. The cutting up part, not so much. They left to find a place to dump him and I took the hand. That guy wasn’t using it.”

    “That’s disgusting,” I said.

    
“That’s disgusting,” I said.

    
Cassie shrugged.

    
“Then there’s the matter of the Godiva chocolates,” I reminded her. “Not cool.”

    
“I’m sorry about that. I am. Margie came back to the store saying something about a DVD she overheard y’all talking about at Monica Dupree’s house, and I panicked. You were probably the only people who could’ve put two and two together.”

    
“I could’ve died!”

    
“But you didn’t. The nitrobenzene was in insecticide we use in the shop, and I didn’t use too much.”

    
“I was sick for three days.” Give or take.

    
“Who knew you would eat so much chocolate in one sitting? I thought a little scare would deter you, but you couldn’t stay out of it, could you?”

    
“Like I’m going to give up after someone tried to kill me. That only strengthened my resolve.”

    
“Most people, when they see death coming their way, turn and head in the other direction.”

    
“I’m not most people. Must have more guts.”

    
“Yeah? How’s that working for you?” Cassie’s voice was still pleasant, but her grip tightened on the gun in her lap.

    
“Drop it, Chloe,” Mom said as we turned into Arbor Farms. “She’s just pushing your buttons like you and your sister, Lily, always push mine.”

    
That got my attention. Had the old girl lost her mind, or was she telling me something?

    
As we passed the Madison’s house, I spotted Lady Chablis in the front yard. Get help boy, I telegraphed. LC trotted over to the crèche and sniffed one of the wise men. I turned away.

    
We pulled into Saul’s portico. I was saddened by the neglected state of the decorations we had installed around the eaves and in the trees. Had it been only three weeks ago when Mom had assured Robin we had enough lights to be seen from the moon?

    
At that point, Judge Stone had been dead, and Saul and Oscar weren’t long for this world. Three murders with more to come, and Cassie stood to get away with them all. We had to stop her, and we had to time things just right.

    
“Slide over behind me,” Cassie ordered Mom, “and I’ll let you out.” To me, she added, “Don’t try any funny stuff, or your mom gets it.”

    
Think, I ordered myself. What was Mom telling me? Something about Lily and buttons.

    
I put my hands up. “I’ll keep my hands where you can see them.”

    
Cassie let Mom out the back and closed the door. Mom stumbled on the flagstone walkway, and Cassie prodded her with the gun. I scrambled out and slammed the door. Cassie tossed me the house key.

    
Inside, the air was chilly and stale. Cassie pointed to stairs off the kitchen that led down to a simply furnished game room with a bar, a big screen TV and sliding glass doors to the back patio.

    
“You’ll be comfortable down there. I’ll even put in a DVD if you see anything you like.”

    
We preceded her down the stairs with Mom in the lead. My heart was pounding, knowing we only had her word that she wouldn’t kill us. Would she shoot me first, or would I watch my mother die, knowing I was next? How long would our bodies molder before they found us? How long would Jacob sit at the restaurant before he decided he had been stood up and should, therefore, sleep with the waitress?

    
I felt light-headed, but fought to control my emotions. Life couldn’t end in this way.

    
Cassie reached into her satchel and removed a jumbo roll of duct tape.

    
“Amanda, you do Chloe. Tight. I’ll be checking.” With her gun she pointed to two heavy steel, ladder-back armchairs.

    
“Put those in front of the television and think about what movie you want to watch. Saul has a pretty good collection, and y’all may be here a long time.”

    
Mom began taping my ankles to the legs of the chair. “Don’t ever let me catch you sitting like this in public,” she said. “That skirt leaves little to the imagination.”

    
“You crack me up.” Cassie waved Mom into a chair. “Do your own ankles.”

    
Mom did as she was told.

    
“Now your left wrist as best as you can,” Cassie ordered.

    
It was awkward, but Mom managed and tossed Cassie the tape. Cassie tore off a long piece and taped Mom’s right wrist. Not that there was any point struggling. She had proven herself only too willing to take a life, and I didn’t think, in a pinch, she would be all that picky.

    
Once Mom was taped, Cassie added more tape to each of our extremities. We weren’t going anywhere.

    
“Movie?” she asked, the good little hostess.

    
“Not really in the mood,” I declined.

    
“Suit yourself.”

    
Cassie tucked the roll of tape into her satchel, then held up Mom’s key ring. “Which one’s your front door key?”

    
“Why would you need to know that?” Mom asked.

    
Cassie looked disappointed. “You mean you haven’t guessed? There are still a few names on my Christmas list. The bastard who testified against my father died two years ago of a brain aneurism, but the lawyer who defended him is still very much alive.”

    
“Dear God, no!” Mom cried.

    
“Ah, the light dawns,” Cassie said and calmly walked out of the house.

CHAPTER 40

    
“Did you do it?” Mom demanded in a whisper as soon as we were alone.

    
“She’s going after Dad!” I said at the same time.

    
“Did you do it?”

    
“Of course!”

    
“We have to escape and warn your father.”

    
I strained against the tape hoping for give. There was none. “We can’t panic. I pushed the button. We’ve got that going for us.”

    
It had been close, but I’d figured out what Mom had wanted me to do in the nick of time - push the OnStar emergency button the way Lily had when we first got the Caddy. Mission accomplished.

    
Mom tested the tightness of her own tape. “The police should be here soon, don’t you think? What if the OnStar thing didn’t work? Alex doesn’t know to be wary of Cassie.”

    
“How could it not work? I heard the chime just as I was getting out. That’s why I slammed the door so fast. When the operator didn’t get a response, she would’ve called the police and Dad, right?”

    
“Then why aren’t they here?”

    
“Maybe they’re tracking the car.”

    
“Maybe you didn’t push the button right.”

    
I gaped at her. “It’s a button. I pushed it. I heard the chime.”

    
“We need to get out of here.” Mom scanned the room. “Is there anything behind the bar we could use?”

    
“I could use a martini, but I don’t know how we’d open the olive jar.”

    
Clearly this was not the time for jokes.

    
“It would take us forever to get over there,” I pointed out.

    
“We don’t have forever. We have to get upstairs.” Mom was obviously scared.

    
I couldn’t see my watch for the duct tape, but I realized she was right. Why hadn’t the police gotten here?

    
“Maybe if I just…” I pushed all my body weight forward until I was standing on my feet with the chair on my back. In this awkward position, the steel chair weighed a ton. My quads sang.

    
“Excellent.” Mom spurred me on. “Can you walk?”

    
I staggered forward a step, then another.

    
“You’re going the wrong way.”

    
It was the most intense workout I’d ever done. My stomach muscles clenched, my legs shook and the tape pulled painfully at my skin. Somehow I managed to turn back around before having to sit down.

    
“Careful,” Mom warned. “Don’t fall over.”

    
“I don’t think I can make it,” I gasped.

    
“You have to.”

    
“No. I mean, physically, I don’t think I can make it.”

    
We heard the door at the top of the stairs open. We were saved!

    
“Thought I’d thank y’all for your OnStar trick - brilliant,” Cassie called down. “The operator is sending Alex right over. Seems his daughter Chloe could use a little help. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You two crack me up.”

    
She was still laughing when she shut the door.

    
“Chloe, I want you out of that chair now!”

    
I didn’t even argue. I got back to my feet. The pain was worse this time, but I managed five more staggering steps before coming back down.

    
“Almost there!” Mom offered encouragement. “I hope you used a powerful antiperspirant.  You sweat more than any girl I’ve ever seen.”

    
I didn’t have the energy for a biting retort. The front of the bar was a few steps away, and my next attempt brought me right to the edge of it.

    
“What do you see? Anything sharp?”

    
I ignored Mom because I saw something at the perfect height, mounted to the bar, its tiny silver point jutting forward.

    
“There’s a bottle opener. If I can snag the tape on it, maybe I can loosen it,” I said.

    
“Try!”

    
I rose on my shaking, sweating legs and angled the chair, so that the tape would snag on the point. My first two attempts failed, but three times is the charm. I dragged the blade dully across the silver surface.

    
“Anything?” Mom asked.

    
“I can’t get it under the edge of the tape.”

    
“You’re doing great,” she encouraged. “Keep at it.”

    
On my next tries, I pressed the opener against my skin, snagged the tape and pulled as hard as I could. The point didn’t cut, but it did stretch the tape from my skin, similar to pulling a bandage off over and over again.  If I kept at it, I might stretch the tape away enough to wriggle my hand out. That was the plan anyway.

    
After what seemed like an eternity, using copious amounts of sweat as a lubricant, I was able to slide my right hand free. I grabbed the bar to keep from tumbling over backward.

    
“Thank you, God,” Mom said. “Now your other one.”

    
“It’ll take too long. I’m finding a knife or something.”

    
“Hurry! Cassie could come back down here any second to check on us.”

    
That got me going. I reached down and felt the inside of one of my boots. The zipper wasn’t covered by tape. What if I unzipped it and squeezed my foot out. Then the other. I stood and dragged the chair, still bound to me by one wrist, around to the bar where I found a pair of kitchen shears. Two seconds later, sore and drenched, I was free. I cut one of Mom’s hands free, and handed her the shears.

    
“Go,” she urged. “I’m right behind you.”

    
I didn’t risk going back up the stairs in case Cassie could see us from her vantage point. Instead I slipped through the doorway onto the back patio. Bare feet cold on the flagstones, I climbed up the steps of the tiered backyard to the back door where we had discovered the severed hand.

    
Here I crouched beneath the door’s window and took a breath. Was Cassie standing on the other side waiting for me to take a peek? I had to chance it.

    
Edging my way up, I looked through the glass. Cassie was in the kitchen with her back to me, calmly reading the paper spread out on the counter. Not a care in the world.

    
Quietly, I tried the knob. Unlocked. Was this her escape route? Not if I could help it.

     I woul
d wait for Mom to run with me over to Monica’s house and call the cops. But then I heard the one thing I didn’t want to hear - the front door bell.