A Score to Settle (21 page)

“Mama!” Claude sat up straight in his wheelchair, suddenly much more alert than he’d been before. “What are you doing? I’ll handle this.”

“But he knows, Claude. Whatever it is you’ve done that’s caused the trouble, he knows about it. I see it in his eyes. He has such a look of hatred.” She took a menacing step forward. “You two leave. Now.”

“Sure, no problem,” Jamie said, taking Daniel’s arm and trying to drag him toward the door.

But he was rooted to the floor. “Why, Claude? Just tell me why you would kill a man and let me take the fall.”

“I didn’t just
let
you take the fall. I made sure you did.” Claude worked furiously at the brace on his leg, unfastening buckles and loosening straps. “You were at my apartment, remember? I asked you to carve the roast. Then when no one was looking, I carefully placed the knife in a plastic bag.”

“My God, that was months before the murder.”

“I planned it for a long time. When I heard you were going into business with Andreas Musto, that untalented fry cook, I couldn’t believe it. We could have made it, you and I, Le Bistro. If you’d just been more patient and given my ideas time to come to fruition—”

“You were bleeding us dry, Claude. You seemed to think I had an endless supply of cash, and I didn’t.”

“Of course you did! Your father was a billionaire.”

“My father, not me. He loaned us the money to open the restaurant. I had to pay him back. We had to close the doors because we’d run out of operating capital.”

“No. You plotted behind my back with Andreas.”

“So why didn’t you just kill me?” Daniel asked.

“Because the police would have figured it out. I had a motive. But if I killed Andreas and framed you…it was perfect. I didn’t even know the bastard.”

“But you left DNA at the scene,” Jamie said. “At both scenes. Because you killed Frank Sissom, too.”

“You two must be crazy,” Mrs. Morel said. “My Claude could never kill anyone.”

“Then why were you helping him leave the country?” Daniel demanded.

“He said he’d gotten into some trouble. The car accident—he said he’d crashed with the car of a powerful, angry man. So I make up a little story, that he’d been hurt much worse than he was to buy him a little time so he could get away for a while. He would never hurt anyone on purpose.”

The woman sounded on the verge of tears, but the gun never wavered. It was still pointed directly at Daniel.

Claude finally worked the brace free of his leg, which apparently was not injured at all. In one swift move he hoisted himself up and out of the wheelchair, swung the brace over his head, and crashed it into Daniel’s head.

The unexpected salvo was enough to stun Daniel, driving him down to one knee.

“Claude, what are you doing?” his mother objected.

“I know what I’m doing, Mama.” He ripped the gauze off his perfectly good eye, then grabbed the sharp cheese knife from the tray and hauled Jamie up by her hair. Before Daniel could react, Claude had the knife at Jamie’s throat.

“Don’t even think of trying anything clever,” Claude said. “This knife might be small, but Mama keeps her knives very sharp, just like I do.

“Here’s how this is going to work. Daniel, you’re going to lie down on the floor. Mama, you’re going to tie him up.”

“With what?” Mrs. Morel sounded completely lost.

“Use the belt to my robe,” Claude said curtly.

Daniel’s wits were returning. He had a cut on his cheekbone where the sharp metal from the leg brace had made contact. Blood dripped onto his shirt, and his head throbbed, but otherwise he was okay.

He glanced up. Seeing Jamie’s terrified eyes and Claude holding that knife at her throat was almost too much to bear. He wanted to launch himself at Claude and rip his heart out with his bare hands.

But one false move could cost Jamie her life. And God knew whether Mrs. Morel would shoot. A mother’s love for her son sometimes transcended sanity.

“What do I do with the gun?” Mrs. Morel said.

“Put it down,” Claude answered impatiently. “I’ve got them covered. The interfering D.A. can’t move without getting a sliced jugular. And Daniel—he won’t risk her life by disobeying orders. Isn’t that right, Daniel?”

“Right,” Daniel managed, still crouched, holding his head in his hands, feigning an injury far greater than the reality. Why not use a chapter from Claude’s book against him?

Mrs. Morel laid the gun down on the mantel and, moving hesitantly, went to her son and untied the belt of his robe. Daniel knew if he was going to do something, it had to be fast. Once he was tied up, it would be a simple matter for Claude to neutralize Jamie.

But he soon discovered he’d underestimated the woman he loved.

“What are you going to do with us?” Jamie asked.

“I won’t kill you unless I have to,” Claude said. “Not in my mother’s home. Clearly you haven’t gone to the police, or they’d be here. If I can slow you down long enough, I’ll be away safely.”

“To Paris,” Jamie said. “We know about the reservations.”

While she talked, Daniel moved subtly until he had one shoulder under the coffee table.

“Well, go on, Mama,” Claude said. “Tie him up.”

Mrs. Morel came up behind him, leaned over and grabbed one of Daniel’s wrists. Her grip was surprisingly strong.

Jamie picked that moment to make her move. She grabbed Claude’s knife hand and pulled it away from her neck. She was only able to get a couple of inches clearance, but that enabled her to circle-step one foot behind his and unbalance him. As he stumbled, the tip of his knife sliced through Jamie’s sweater and into her arm. She screamed as a splash of crimson stained her clothing.

With a roar of fury Daniel rose, bringing the whole coffee table with him, cheese plate, glass figurines and all. He threw all of his weight behind it, smashing it down on Claude, finishing the job Jamie had started.

Daniel lurched to his feet and tossed the upturned table aside with the strength of outrage fueling him. Jamie lunged toward the fireplace, perhaps trying to get her hands on the gun, but Mrs. Morel extended her cane and hooked Jamie’s ankle with it.

With a cry of frustration Jamie fell to her knees.

Daniel was on top of Claude now, one hand clamped over Claude’s wrist and beating it against the pink carpet, trying to get him to drop the knife. But the rug beneath them was soft, and Claude stubbornly refused to let go.

Daniel placed a knee in Claude’s gut, grabbed half of a broken glass dog, and banged the sharp edge into Claude’s knife hand.

Finally the chef released the knife. “All right, all right! For God’s sake, man, you’ve won!”

“I’ve got the gun, Daniel!” Jamie shouted. “It’s over.”

But it wasn’t, not for Daniel. His fantasy was coming true. He tossed the knife well away, then fitted his hands around Claude’s neck. “This is for the six years of hell you put me through.” He squeezed. “This is for ruining the last years my parents had on earth.” Claude choked as Daniel squeezed harder. “For killing my friend, and for Christopher Gables and Frank Sissom and everyone else whose lives you ruined.”

“Daniel, stop! I’ve got the gun.”

He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to choke the life out of the bastard.

“Daniel!” she said again, pleading this time. Someone pounded on the door. Mrs. Morel sobbed, pleading for the life of her son.

Daniel looked over his shoulder at Jamie. She had blood all over her. What was he doing? Letting the woman he loved bleed to death so he could get his revenge? How many lives had
he
been about to destroy, just so he could settle a score?

He loosened his hands. Claude gasped for breath.

“Police. We need to talk to you!” It was Abe Comstock on the front porch, bellowing through the door.

Daniel raised himself on one knee. “Jamie, how bad are you hurt?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You know how to handle a firearm?”

“Yes. Go get the door.”

That turned out to be unnecessary. The front door flew open and a crowd of blue uniforms pushed inside, guns drawn.

Comstock pushed his way to the front and looked around the living room. “Holy mother of— What the hell is going on in here? Jamie, put the gun down!”

She slowly lowered it. “Mrs. Morel pulled a gun on us,” Jamie said, sounding ridiculously calm. “Then Claude assaulted Daniel with his leg brace and put a knife to my throat, and Daniel fought back, and I got the gun and here we are.”

“If you’d waited ten minutes,” Comstock said, “you could have saved yourself a lot of trouble. I had a warrant to arrest Claude Morel. This him?” He pointed to the bleeding man on the floor.

“That’s him.”

“Somebody call for paramedics.” Comstock knelt down, helped Claude to sit up, then promptly snapped handcuffs on him.

Daniel went to Jamie and led her to a chair, urging her into it. “You’re not okay. You’re bleeding all over the place.” The blood had soaked through her sweater halfway down her arm and in a half circle over her torso. He pulled apart the sweater where the knife had cut it, then ripped the sleeve apart.

“Daniel!”

“Honey, you’re gushing blood like a geyser.” He grabbed one of Mrs. Morel’s needlepoint pillows and pressed it against the cut. “Lean back.” He’d never seen so much blood. If he didn’t stop it, she might bleed out before the paramedics even arrived.

“Thank you, Daniel.” She stroked his hair with her free hand.

“Don’t thank me yet. This is dicey first aid.”

“No, I mean, thank you for not killing Claude. I know you wanted to.”

“Part of me wanted to,” he admitted. “When I saw that he’d hurt you, everything came rushing back all at once—the pain he’d inflicted on me and my family. I wanted him to feel that pain. But that was the old Daniel, the one who was angry and bitter and wanted an eye for an eye. But the part of me that wants to live—that part was stronger.”

“Thank you,” she said again.

“You saved me. I heard your voice calling my name, and it brought me back from the brink. I knew if I killed Claude, my life was over, too. If I killed him—even if it was ruled self-defense—I would have lost you. And that was something I couldn’t give up, my chance with you, a future with you by my side.”

Daniel heard the sirens approaching and knew he had limited time to say what he wanted to say. Once the paramedics came they would take Jamie away, and then the police would have their day, dissecting today’s events second by second, trying to decide who was guilty of what.

For all he knew, they might throw him in jail for attempted murder.

That thought didn’t upset him as much as it would have only yesterday. If he could just get one thing settled.

“Jamie, beautiful Jamie, you’ve given me back my life, made me strong again. No matter what happens now, I’ll be okay. But do you think we could have a future? Is there hope for us?”

He waited breathlessly for her answer. But when it didn’t come, he chanced a look at her.

She had passed out.

Her arm throbbed, and she wished for a few seconds she could just sink back into that lovely, hazy nothingness. But Daniel was here; he wasn’t a dream. That was his hand holding hers, warm and secure.

“I told you we should have waited in the car,” she said.

He smiled through a pained expression. “I will listen to you from now on. I promise. How do you feel?”

“Ready for a dance marathon, can’t you tell?” Then she thought to ask, “Am I okay?”

“Nothing a couple of gallons of blood and a whole lot of bed rest won’t cure.” It wasn’t Daniel talking, but Dr. Novak. “I wasn’t expecting to see you back here so fast.”

“It’s not like I was eager to return,” Jamie shot back. “And no, I didn’t try to cut my wrist and miss.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Dr. Novak checked the readings on various beeping machines. “Ah, your numbers look a whole lot better than when you came in here.”

“Good. Can I go home?”

“Not yet, but it won’t be long,” Dr. Novak said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have rounds to make.”

Once they were alone, Daniel took Jamie’s hand. “I’m breaking you out of here just as soon as I can,” he said. “You’re coming home with me. I’ve appointed myself your twenty-four-hour nurse.”

“Mmm, Jillian will love that.”

“Jillian has already packed her things and moved out,” Daniel admitted. “She said I would be sorry, that without her my life would fall apart. She might be right,” he said. “I haven’t done a bang-up job running things so far. But I’m sure I’ll get better at it. So you’ll let me take care of you until you’re stronger?”

“Anything to get me out of this place.” But once she’d regained her strength, then what? She sighed. “Guess I’ll have to get my résumé in order. Who will want to hire a prosecutor who mistakenly put a man on death row?”

“Are you kidding? When the true story comes out, you can write your own ticket. At the very least, Chubb will beg you to come back. But I was kind of hoping you’d come work for me.”

“For you, personally?” She hoped he wasn’t suggesting she should replace Jillian.

“For Project Justice. As an investigator. You’re damn good at it. And we could use another attorney—I rely too much on Raleigh. Whatever the D.A.’s office is paying you, I’ll double it.”

His offer was tempting—for all of five seconds. She wanted a lot of things, but being Daniel’s employee wasn’t one of them.

“Daniel, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer or your confidence in me, but I’m a prosecutor. I put bad guys away. It’s what I love.”

“But we’re a team. You have to admit we work well together.”

She nodded. “But Project Justice is your dream. And while I admire your passion, it’s not mine.”

“You’re making this hard on me.”

“Because I won’t fall in line with your plans?”

“You don’t remember what we talked about just before you passed out, do you?”

“Um, no. I remember you putting a pillow on my arm.”

“Then I’ll start over. I want you in my life. Any way I can get you. Offering you a job seemed the most expedient, but not the most effective, I guess.”

Jamie’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“I won’t blame you if you walk away. I’ve been manipulative and high-handed, you’ve almost died because of me not once, not twice, but three times, and I cost you your job.”

“You do show a lady a good time.” Jamie’s eyes were suddenly awash with tears.

“Oh, dear God, I’ve made you cry on top of everything else.”

“Do you mean it, Daniel? I’m not just a…a diversion, or a novelty you’ll get tired of after a while?”

“I wasn’t going to bring this up, because I thought it was too much, too soon, but I am so sure that I will never grow tired of you that I want us to get married.”

“Oh, boy…” Her tears spilled over. “Now I really am going to cry. I don’t cry, Daniel. Nothing ever makes me cry.”

He kissed her tears away.

“So are you crying because the answer is ‘yes, I want to spend the rest of my life with you’? Or ‘no, you’re crazy as a bedbug and first chance I get, I’m filing a restraining order’?”

“Daniel. You
are
crazy as a bedbug.” She kissed him with a lot more passion than she should have, given her health at the moment, and stopped only when she got light-headed from lack of oxygen. “But I do want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you, Daniel.”

“I love you, Jamie.”

They would have kissed again, but the door opened and Abe Comstock entered, looking cocky. “Are you about done in here? I told you five minutes, and it’s been fifteen.”

“She just woke up,” Daniel said with a shrug. Then to Jamie he explained, “I owe him an interview.”

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, Jamie,” Abe said. “Don’t get too comfortable. Your turn is next. I sure hope y’all’s stories match, ’cause I’m ready for this stinkin’ case to be over.”

Daniel stood and squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you later. Do what the doctor says.”

“Yes, Nurse Daniel.”