01 - Playing with Poison (27 page)

I thought about dear, sweet Bryce. Okay, so maybe not so dear and sweet after all. I took a deep breath. “Can we prove it this time?”

“Yep, I think we can.” Rye emphasized the ‘we.’ “It’s been frustrating, but that’s what’s taken so long. First, we had to figure out who Dixon really was. Densmore did a great job on that.”

“Candy and I think Lieutenant Denmore’s really nice.”

“I’m thrilled. But he’s also really smart. He identified Webb, and then we could start digging into his past. He got away with murder once before. This time we wanted hard and fast evidence to convict the bastard.”

“And?”

“And I’m driving back from Tennessee with proof. These days there’s computerized records for tracking pharmaceuticals. They’re much harder to tamper with.”

“So Bryce got the poison from his mother again? I’m still having trouble picturing this, Captain.”

“Picture it,” he said. “Webb took the drugs from his mother’s office a couple weeks ago. But she couldn’t cover for him this time, since she knew nothing about it until I showed up with a search warrant. I got some fingerprints, too. It will help.”

I remembered Bryce had taken a trip home right before his new semester began. “When do you arrest him?” I asked.

“Soon. I should make it to Clarence by midnight. In the meantime, Densmore’s on his way to the bar. He and John Chavis might even make the arrest before I get there.”

“Oh, my Lord. John the New Guy’s a cop, isn’t he?”

“Yep.”

“John the New Guy’s a cop,” I told Snowflake. She yawned and moseyed over to the opposite end of the bench.

I spoke to Rye. “He just beat me at pool, by the way.”

“What!?”

“I scratched on the eight ball.”

“What!?”

“I was distracted, okay? I figured out it was Bryce just as I took the shot.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. Did anyone notice?”

“What do you think? Poor Kirby Cox may never recover.”

“Please tell me you didn’t explain why you got so flustered.”

“Would you give me some credit? I mumbled some lame excuse and came home to call you.”

“Well, thank you.” Rye sounded calmer. “Now stay put behind locked doors until we nab the guy. You got that?”

I looked at Snowflake. “Umm…”

“Umm, what?” When I didn’t answer, Rye started shouting at me, “You are at home? You just told me that you’re home, Ms. Hewitt!”

“I’m sort of home.” I stood up and gathered up the cat. “I’m on the roof.”

“The roof! For God’s sake, Jessie! Go downstairs and lock yourself in. That’s an order!”

I promised I would and hung up.

And that’s when I noticed Bryce Dixon blocking the stairwell.

Chapter 28

I dropped Snowflake. She scolded me and hopped back onto Karen’s railing.

“Who was that on the phone, Jessie?”

“Phone?” I stared at my cell phone, searching for an answer. “Umm, I was talking to my mother.”

“At 11:30?”

“Mother is a night owl,” I said and set the phone on the bench. For some reason I wanted my hands free.

“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”

“Smart?” I repeated. Audrey had told me the same thing earlier, but I still wasn’t feeling all that brilliant. “What are you doing home so early, Bryce?”

“I told Matthew I’m sick. I lied, just like you did.”

Much to my dismay, he had moved out from the stairwell and was coming closer. I backed up, relieved to have the bench between us.

“Lied?” I said and cringed at my own stupidity. Parroting words was likely not the best strategy to get me out of this mess.

“Would you stop it with the games, Jessie? I know you know.”

We began doing a bizarre dance around the bench. Bryce took a step forward. I, a step backward.

“It took me a while to realize it,” he said. “Since Jimmy Beak came in right after you left and caused all kinds of trouble. But you figured it out at the pool game.”

I continued backing away. “How could you do such a thing, Bryce?”

“Easy. I could dump a whole gallon of bleach into those disgusting drinks and no one would know the difference.”

“But why?” I already knew why, but I was stalling for time—my new, and I hoped, improved strategy for getting out of this mess. “Why did you kill poor Stanley?”

“Poor Stanley, my ass. I hated the guy.”

“Because of Candy?”

“He didn’t deserve her. And he didn’t deserve all that money. I’m free now.”

“Free from what?” I asked on reflex, and Bryce stopped short. In fact, I do not believe I’ve ever seen Bryce Dixon stand so still.

I, too, stopped. Perhaps even time stood still for that moment or two, but my intuition kicked into overdrive.

“He was blackmailing you.”

Bryce blinked and I knew I had nailed it.

“Over what?” I asked as we started moving again.

Who knows how many times we rounded that stupid bench, as bits and pieces of conversation floated back to me.

“Stan had a way of finding out about everything. It was kind of uncanny,” Roslynn Mayweather had said. “The guy was relentless,” Ian complained. “Sweetzer was good at getting what he wanted out of people. He knew lots of secrets,” Rye had told me.

Why, even Bryce had insinuated some such thing. It was when I told him about Billy Joe Dent. Bryce said he wasn’t surprised Stanley was blackmailing him.

We rounded the bench for the umpteenth time.

“Stanley found out who you really are.” I was more or less sure of myself. “You let it slip somehow. Maybe when he was belittling you? Maybe you bragged about,” I hesitated, “about your secret.”

Bryce was breathing heavy now, and he was moving faster. I kept backing away. If I could make it back to the other side of the bench, I would have a clear path to the stairs.

“Did he threaten to tell the cops?” I hesitated again. “No,” I corrected myself. “He threatened to tell Candy.”

“You bitch!” Bryce lunged forward.

I ducked and made a run for it.

The stairwell wasn’t that far away. I would make it there. And then I would run all the way downstairs, and out to Sullivan Street, and back to The Stone Fountain—

And then Snowflake howled.

I froze. And time stood still again.

“I’ve always hated this cat,” Bryce said from across the roof.

I blinked at the stairwell looming before me and tried to breathe.

“Didn’t you hear me, Jessie?” He lowered his voice. “I said I hate this cat.”

I turned slowly and forced myself to look.

Bryce was holding Snowflake around her middle and was dangling her over the edge of the roof.

“Noooo!” I screamed.

But he dropped her anyway.

He dropped Snowflake.

And she screamed, and screamed, and screamed, the whole way down. But it was more horrible when she stopped screaming.

I stared into the abyss where my cat had been.

And then I bounded over two benches and who knows how many plants and went for his throat.

Not a good idea. Within a second he had wrestled me into submission and held me, hands behind my back, and leaning backwards, way the hell over the railing.

“God, Bryce!” I choked, or whatever it was I could do with my neck yanked back at that angle. For one brief, terrifying second, my feet were actually lifted off the roof. “Killing me won’t help.”

“Like hell it won’t.”

“Rye knows,” I said. “He’s on his way.”

“Yeah? Like when?”

Okay, good question.

I stopped arguing and gasped for breath as Bryce rocked me back and forth. Maybe he was thinking about his choices. Believe me, so was I.

Then I heard the sirens.

“They’re headed here,” I managed.

“Yeah, right,” he said, but he stopped rocking me and listened.

“They’re headed here,” I repeated, and sure enough, the sirens stopped below us. I could even see flashing blue lights. Or maybe that was the blood rushing to my head.

Bryce mumbled a few obscenities, but I was too busy rejoicing over the sounds of someone running up the stairs to care. I still couldn’t see a darn thing with my head tilted back at such a distressing angle.

“Oh, my God.” That was Lieutenant Densmore—I was almost sure of it. I was about to feel relieved when I heard a heavy thud.

Bryce snickered and glanced over the railing. “Too bad for you, Jessie. Densmore’s out cold.”

If I could have cried, I would have, but I was discovering that crying upside down is near impossible.

But now more people were on the stairs. I was about to feel relieved when I heard Jimmy Beak.

“I want this on film,” he shouted, and a lot of people began running around the roof. Someone tripped and landed in Karen’s fountain with a splash and a curse, but Jimmy kept yelling, “Get as close to her as possible! Now, people! This is gonna get me a national spot if it kills me!”

Suddenly things got much brighter—someone must have aimed a spotlight at me as Jimmy started reporting something about Adelé Nightingale finally meeting her match. I tried crying again.

But now there really was more help arriving. Sirens blared and whistles blew on the street below, but I concentrated on what sounded like the entire Clarence police force hurrying up the stairs. I was about to feel relieved when I noticed how everyone kept stopping far, far, away.

Bryce noticed also. He kept warning people to keep their distance. Several people instructed us to remain calm. Perhaps that would have worked if Candy Poppe hadn’t arrived.

“Oh my gosh. Oh, Jessie!” she squealed from somewhere near the stairwell, and Bryce almost dropped me.

I slipped even further backwards amid a lot of screaming, some of which I assume was my own.

But Lord help me, could this position from hell actually be better? My foot had snagged hold of one of the rails as I slipped. I twisted my right ankle around the baluster as far as it would twist and held on for dear life as Karen encouraged me to hang in there.

“We’re with you, Jess,” she said. “We’re all right here with you.”

Several people offered a casual hello, as if we were meeting over a bottle of Korbel, and it occurred to me that all the regulars from The Stone Fountain had joined us.

“Jealousy,” Audrey Dibble said with confidence, and Jackson grunted accordingly.

Meanwhile the Allens were actually arguing, within my earshot, about whether or not I would survive the fall. Bless his heart, Kirby shut them up while I finally figured out how to cry upside down.

“What the hell?”

I stopped crying.

“For God’s sake, Densmore.”

Yes, it really was Captain Rye. And he didn’t sound very happy with the situation, whatever it was, exactly.

But whatever it was, I could tell he was walking toward Bryce and me.

“Give me that,” Rye said, and I heard Jimmy’s cameraman put up an argument and a fight. Then I heard an object, presumably that damn camera, land in Karen’s fountain.

Proof positive that there is a God in heaven, the spotlight got turned off also.

Jimmy started protesting but Rye ignored him.

“Put away your guns, people,” he ordered. “We shoot him, and she goes over. Can’t you see that?”

I resumed crying.

“Are you okay, Jessie?” he asked.

“Blackmail,” I choked.

“Do what you’re thinking, Webb, and you’ll follow her over.” Rye had moved closer still. “I guarantee it.”

“It’s Dixon,” Bryce said. “I’m Bryce Dixon now.”

“Blackmail,” I repeated with all my strength. If I were about to die, I was determined Rye would have the whole truth beforehand.

“I’ll drop her. I swear I will.” Bryce started rocking me back and forth again, which was doing nothing good to my right ankle.

“What did Sweetzer have on you, Webb?” Thank you, God—Rye must have heard me. “Your name? Your family? Your nasty inclination to murder? What?”

“Stan didn’t have anything on me, Candy. I swear it!” Bryce kept rocking me. His hands had gone all clammy. Slippery, even.

“Gosh, Bryce.” That was Candy. “Then why are you holding Jessie upside down like that?”

Okay, so the world really had gone topsy-turvy. Candy Poppe was now providing the voice of reason.

“How the hell were you paying him?” Rye asked, but I didn’t wait for the answer.

When Bryce rocked me forward for the umpteenth time, I took what I hoped was a good opportunity to save my life. I freed my foot, pushed off from the railing, and collided head on with Rye, who must have pounced at the same time I did.

We went down hard, but we were on the roof.

We were on the roof.

More accurately, I was sprawled on top of the prone body of Wilson Rye. There was a lot of running, and yelling, and general commotion going on around us, but I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sound of his heart beating beneath my left ear.

I breathed deep. “Are you okay,” I asked quietly.

“Never better. You?”

I let out a gigantic sob. “He threw Snowflake overboard.”

That got us moving again. Rye held me tighter around the waist, rolled over and stood up, taking me with him. But being right side up and vertical so suddenly didn’t feel so good. I remember looking into his eyes before I passed out. No, let’s be accurate—I swooned. Alexis Wynsome couldn’t have done it better.

Chapter 29

I opened one eye to see Candy’s face a mere inch away from my own. I closed my eye.

“We’re not going away,” she said. “You need to wake up now, Jessie.”

When I realized a cat was laying on my chest and purring, I took her advice.

Yes, it really was Snowflake. I stroked her with both hands and a few tears trickled down my temples toward the pillow as I regained my bearings.

I was lying on my bed. Candy was there, kneeling beside me, and looking far too energetic. Karen was nearby also. She had rolled the chair from my desk over to the bedroom and was reclining on it, her work boot clad feet resting next to my stomach. She was drinking Korbel from the bottle.

“You don’t like champagne,” I reminded her and reached out. She handed over the bottle.

“You’re alive, Jess. Kiddo and I figured that was worth celebrating.”

“What the heck happened?” I leaned on an elbow and took a swig, and passed the bottle to Candy. I laid back down. “And this better be good.”