Part 30 (1/2)

Somebody sniffled. Vicki?

”You're not even supposed to be here! And neither are you, Andrew,” she wailed. ”I didn't mean to shoot you. I thought you were Sophie or Wolf. And now you're bleeding . . .”

”You poisoned Mars?” Andrew sounded remarkably calm for someone who'd been shot. ”But why?”

”You're such a dolt, Andrew,” said the other man. ”She was supposed to poison Natasha, but, as usual, little Vicki couldn't get the simplest thing right and she poisoned Mars instead. I thought she'd outgrown that, but it's just like when we were kids.”

”That's not true,” protested Vicki. ”I don't mess up everything.”

”Really? I suppose you thought it through before you whacked Simon over the head?” He walked to the buffet and shone the flashlight on it. The drawer complained when he jerked it open. ”Thanks to you, I'm unemployed. Today is another perfect example. Instead of finding the poison container, you've shot your husband and I'm going to have to clean up after you. Again.”

”You . . . you killed Simon? Why did you want to kill Natasha?” Andrew's voice had grown weaker.

Had he already lost too much blood? I wavered. If I went to his aid, they'd kill me. Where was Wolf?

I inched back, praying the floorboards wouldn't creak. Holding the cell phone under my sweater to dim the light, I pressed 911.

The operator answered too loudly. I looked up, afraid I'd given myself away, but Vicki's sobbing must have covered the operator's voice.

Whispering as loud as I dared, I said the address and ”shooting.”

”I can't hear you. You have to speak up.”

I tried again. ”Send ambulance.”

”I can't hear you,” she shouted.

I flipped the phone shut immediately and hoped Nina had the good sense to call the cops.

”Andrew,” blubbered Vicki, ”I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

The other man continued to jerk open drawers and cabinets. ”Now I have to decide what to do with you, Andrew. Clearly you're too stupid to live. Your dear wife has been having an affair with Simon for a year.”

”Is that true?” Andrew asked in a whisper.

Amid snuffles and snorts Vicki said, ”Can you ever forgive me? In the beginning, Simon was so good to me and I felt like a princess. I never stopped loving you, Andrew. I just wanted . . .”

”She wanted somebody to clean up her messes and take care of her like her big brother always has.” The man dropped to the floor and shone the light underneath the furniture. ”Instead she married a dufus whom she had to take care of.” He sneezed.

”Natasha hired that private investigator,” said Vicki, ”and found out that Clyde was my brother and that I was seeing Simon. She pressured me to get Simon to give her a TV show on his channel.”

Clyde! Simon's driver was Vicki's brother?

”But that day at the stuffing compet.i.tion”-she paused to blow her nose-”Simon asked Sophie on a date in front of the whole world and then when I went to talk to him on Natasha's behalf, he made fun of me. He . . . he said it was over and that he didn't care if people knew about our affair and it ruined my life. I would have lost everything if he exposed me. My job, you, everything. But he wouldn't have lost anything. Wouldn't even have noticed. He would have gone right on to the next woman without giving me another thought.”

Vicki's voice grew cold. ”He made jokes and I realized that I meant nothing to him. He thought I'd left the room, but I watched him from the door to the service corridor. The turkey trophy was on a table behind him and I clobbered him with it. All he cared about was money. He used me and threw me away like that girl on his TV show who lost her leg.”

”I don't see the stupid poison vial in here anywhere,” said Clyde. ”Where do you think you lost it?”

The flashlight traveled around the living room. Any second the beam would land on me.

THIRTY-ONE.

From Natasha Online : Every house should have an area that serves as a coffee bar. Locate it away from the kitchen work triangle so that coffee drinkers can help themselves without getting underfoot. The coffeemaker, espresso machine, and coffee grinder as well as measuring spoons and filters should be grouped in this area. I always use gold filters. The coffee tastes better and they can be washed and reused for years. If you don't have a drawer or cabinet for the small items, place them in an attractive basket. And don't forget to set out porcelain coffee mugs that match your decor.

”No!” I screamed, flying to Andrew's side before I thought about it. ”He hasn't done anything to hurt either of you. Leave him alone.” I looked at Vicki, who still knelt by him. ”You can both go right now. You have time to get away. Please, Vicki. Don't let Andrew die.”

Andrew wore a leather jacket and I wondered if it was Mars's. I unzipped it, my hands slipping from the blood. I pulled a decorative throw off a plaid chair and felt Andrew's abdomen, trying to find the spot where the bullet entered. When I thought I had it, I pressed the throw against it in what was probably a vain attempt to prevent him from bleeding out.

I bent close. ”Andrew, can you hear me?”

His hand gripped my wrist with more strength than I'd expected. I shrieked.

At that moment, a blur leapt from the shadows near the foyer.

Clyde grunted as someone attacked him from behind. The man clung to Clyde's back as he staggered through the living room. Clyde waved the gun wildly and I feared he'd shoot.

The two men slammed into the wall beside the grandfather clock. The chimes dinged softly and a fuzzy missile landed on Clyde's head like a bad toupee.

Clyde screeched and I imagined that Mochie sank his claws into Clyde's scalp to hold on. The gun skittered across the floor as Clyde sneezed and fell.

Relief flooded over me. It had to be Wolf who wrestled with Clyde.

”The gun, Vicki. Get the gun!” yelled Clyde.

She rose to her feet.

I glanced around; where had it gone?

Vicki was quicker than me. She retrieved the gun from the floor near the door to the den where I'd hidden. ”Let him go or I'll shoot!” she shouted.

The person who'd attacked Clyde now sat on him with his back to me. I squinted but couldn't make out who it was. It looked like he had Clyde's arms pinned behind him.

”Shoot him, Vicki.” Clyde spoke without emotion. So matter-of-fact that I was alarmed by his cold-blooded nature.

She held the gun in both hands and aimed. Behind her, the door to the den opened wide and someone slammed a frying pan over Vicki's head. She crumpled to the floor.

I lunged at the light switch on the wall and surveyed the scene.

Natasha stood in the doorway to the den, staring down at Vicki. Andrew lay on the floor, pale but alive, his eyes wide with terror.

It was Bernie who sat on Clyde's back and said, ”Could I trouble you for something to tie him up with?”

I raced to the kitchen for turkey twine and returned to the living room. Bernie continued to sit on Clyde while I tied his wrists and ankles together. For added security, when Bernie rolled off Clyde, I trussed Clyde's wrists to his ankles so he couldn't stand up. Mochie sniffed Clyde's head.

Clyde sneezed again. ”Ged it away,” he said with a clogged nose. ”I'b very allergic.”