Cornwall and Redfern Mysteries 2-Book Bundle (55 page)

“Get the lead out, Bliss.
The entrance to the parking lot is drifting over and I don't want to get stuck trying to get out.”

The flaps of Dwayne's hat dangled beside his ears, but I had no desire to laugh. I was actually glad to see Constable Fuckup. “What are you doing back here?”

“Not my idea. The Chief sent me to get you.”

“Why didn't he come himself?”

“He's tied up at a multiple-vehicle pileup on the highway in front of the Wing Nut. Let's go. It's not getting any better out there. I don't want to spend the night here with you.”

“Right you are, Dwayne. You'll need to unhook my wings so I can put my coat on. There are two little clips …”

He backed away. “I'm not touching you. The Chief would kill me if he finds out. As it is, he's giving me an oral quiz in two weeks on Prohibited Weapons. I'm going to have to study the Criminal Code, Section 84, Firearms and Other Weapons. All because of you.”

I managed not to laugh. “Well, it's only one section, right? It's not like you have to memorize the Firearms Act.” Redfern knew all along Dwayne was wrong. Redfern was even more wrong when he tried to blame me. He'd pay for that. “One's got nothing to do with the other. Unhook me so we can get out of here.”

His radio squawked and Dwayne turned away like I was a terrorist with a wiretap on his shoulder radio. “Yeah, Chief? Yes, I have her. We're leaving momentarily. She wants me to unclip her wings, but I didn't touch her. Roger that.”

I couldn't hear Redfern's words, but the intent came through loud and clear. I'd been at the end of that tone a time or two myself.

“Okay, Chief. Roger.”

Dwayne came at me with steely determination in his eyes. “Hold still. The Chief says it's okay for me to do this.”

I turned my back to him and rolled my eyes. “Well, as long as it's okay with the Chief.” While his cold fingers fumbled at my bare back, I glanced at the ceiling. The disco ball turned slowly, catching the light with each spin.

“Here.” Dwayne thrust the wings into my hands. “Now get your coat and let's go. Make sure you tell the Chief I didn't take any liberties with your body.”

“Roger that.” I tossed the wings on the table near the coffee urn. “There's a ladder lying against the wall under the table, Dwayne. Get it out. We have to take the disco ball with us.”

He looked up. “No way. What's wrong with you?”

“It's evidence. There could be some pictures in there that might explain what happened to Faith Davidson. I don't want to leave it here in case the murderer gets his hands on it.”

“You're loony, Bliss.” But he crawled under the table and dragged the ladder out. He set it up, then stood looking at me. “You do know the ball won't fit in the back of the 4 X 4?”

“Okay, we'll remove the contents and leave the rest. Give me your penknife. I need to cut the cable.” Wait. That sounded wrong, even to me. There was some electricity going to the motor that turned the ball, or it wouldn't revolve, right?

Dwayne and I stared at each other. I looked at my watch. Ten minutes left until the lights went out. I didn't want to take the chance of cutting a live electrical cord in the dark. I knew as much about electricity as I did about spring-loaded nail guns.

I climbed the first few rungs. “Let's have that blade, Dwayne. I'll slice through the ball without cutting the cord.”

“I can't let you have my knife. It's against regulations to let a civilian touch police-issued equipment.”

That suited me fine. “Then you go up, Dwayne. Don't try to save the ball. Just hack through it and rip it apart. Anything inside will fall out onto the floor.”

I saw by the expression on his face that he wasn't going to do it.

“Did I mention that the lights are on a timer and will cut out at seven o' clock? That's six minutes from now.”

Dwayne unsnapped his coat and threw it to me. Holding the blade in front of him and spouting profanity unbefitting an officer of the law, he ran up the ladder. He stabbed the disco ball once, then again and again. Each time he had to withdraw the blade from the revolving sphere before he overbalanced.

“Slice, slice!” I yelled. “Stab and slice.” Damn it. If I had my bayonet, that ball would be split and gutted by now. I dropped his coat on top of my wings.

Three minutes to go. He climbed another rung and wrapped his arms around the ball. The motor grinded in protest. “Ouch, ouch, this thing is made of glass! I'm getting shredded.”

What a drama queen. “It's plastic, Dwayne. Put your knife away and pull the edges apart.”

“These twinkle lights are burning my neck.” He dropped his knife, just missing my head.

“I doubt it. They're LED. The spotlights might get a little warm, though. About sixty seconds left, Dwayne.”

The motor squealed as the disco ball disgorged its fifteen-year-old secret. A dozen squares of heavy paper dropped to the floor. I ran around picking them up. There wasn't time to take a close look, but other than a few smudges of colour, the surfaces seemed to be mainly white. Since my chest was mostly bare cleavage, I had no handy spot for storage. I lifted my skirt and thrust the Polaroids down the front of my tights.

The disco ball began to turn again, its tattered and torn facets still sparkling and glinting under the spotlights. No time to mourn. I called up to Dwayne, “You can come down now. The lights will go off any second. I'll grab my coat and we can …”

“
Shhh.
Somebody's out there.” He descended two rungs at a time. “A snowmobile stopped on River Road and I saw the driver head into the trees outside.”

His hand went to his gun. “It may be someone wanting to get out of the storm, but get into the hall, fast …”

A helmet-clad form suddenly appeared at the glass, raised the face shield, and peered in at us. Just as the lights went out, I saw the figure take a step back and raise one arm. There was a deafening explosion as glass shattered and flew inward.

Beside me, Dwayne cried out and slumped to his knees.

“Dwayne! Are you okay?
Get up!”

“Can't breathe — got hit in the vest. Open … door to the hallway. Need … to find cover.”

I did as he asked, and helped drag him out of the atrium. Faint alien light shone from the plant rooms, turning the corridor a sickly green. Dwayne crawled toward the closest doorway — the women's washroom. The sound of smashing glass from the atrium sent my heart rate into triple digits.

“No! We'll be trapped.” The washrooms had solid walls.

I flung open the door to Plant Room F. We were assaulted by warm, humid air that smelled of earth and vegetation. The ventilation system whirred and the lighting tracks hummed, helping to mask our movements. I hoped. Chest-high, broad-leafed plants filled the space, and there were narrow paths between them for the workers to walk along. Tables lined the room, with more plants standing against them.

The intruder had a gun. I had … what? A bottle of herbicide spray? I needed to find a weapon, but I saw nothing else other than flower pots, bags of earth, and a few hand trowels.

“Get under this table closest to the door,” Dwayne gasped. “The door opens against it. It's my best chance of taking the guy down.”

Was he nuts? I pushed aside some plants and helped Dwayne crawl under the table. I followed him, then pulled the pots back into place. There wasn't much light under the table, but I tried to get a closer look at Dwayne.

He wasn't bleeding, but he held his right arm at an awkward angle. “The bullet is stuck in your vest, Dwayne.”

He looked down and groaned. “The impact may have broken some ribs. Radio…. My coat is in the atrium.” He managed to pull his gun out but couldn't lift his arm.

Where the hell was my cell? My costume had no pockets … it was in my tote in the washroom. Shit! “Dwayne. Do you have your cell on you?”

He felt around with his left hand and pulled it out. I snatched it from him. “What's your security code? Type it in!” I whispered. I tapped the texting app. “What's Redfern under?”

“I don't text him. Let me have it. I'll phone him.”

Thank God, Redfern answered right away. “Chief, there's an intruder at the greenhouse. I've been shot. We're in the plant room nearest the women's washroom. Under a table.”

I could hear Redfern shouting at him. I removed my high-heeled sandals.

“She's okay, but I don't know if I can use my gun. I'll try. Hurry.”

“Okay. Let me have it back. I have to turn off the sound now.” I'd almost come to grief once before when my cell rang at an inopportune moment, and it wasn't going to happen again tonight.

He slumped onto the floor, his eyes fluttering. He was going into shock.

Shit!

I shook his shoulder. “Give me your gun. It's our only chance.”

His eyes opened. “No. I'll lose my job. An officer never gives up his gun. Never.”

His hand wrapped around the Glock's hand grip, but loosely. His index finger had fallen away from the trigger. I pulled the barrel away from his body. His fingers twitched but he couldn't reach out.

“Bliss … You can't …”

“Quiet!”

The door opened. I tried to remember facts I'd heard from Redfern and other cops, but never paid attention to. The Glock was a .40-calibre semi-automatic pistol. No safety, so it was ready to go. One pull on the trigger produced one bullet. The magazine contained fifteen rounds. It had been more than three years since I'd held a gun and aimed at a paper target. Would I be able to shoot a human being? I guess I'd find out.

I put one hand on Dwayne to quiet him. A pair of boots halted not eighteen inches from our hiding spot. I put my hand over my mouth to stifle the cry of surprise.
Jimmy Choos!
Suddenly everything made sense. I wanted to punch myself for not understanding sooner. The Weasel wasn't getting his own hands dirty.

I scampered through the warren of table legs, depending on the overhead humming and whirring to mask the sound of my movements. I hoped that the tropical potted plants lined up in front of the tables prevented Andrea from catching sight of me. I prayed that Dwayne didn't cry out in pain and give his position away. I had no doubt Andrea would shoot him again. No time to think about Redfern or where he might be. I couldn't count on anyone else to save me. At that moment, I knew I could put a bullet in her chest to save my life, or Dwayne's. No more doubts.

“Bli-iss?”
Andrea was clearly trying to pinpoint my position. “You know I'm going to kill you and your uniformed minder. Two more deaths don't matter to me. I heard you talking about the photos hidden in the glitter ball. I came back for them. Finding you here is just a bonus. Saves me time. Since the ball has been sliced open, you must have the pictures on you.”

I was under a table directly opposite the door —
opposite
Andrea and her gun. My hands, as I held Dwayne's Glock, were becoming slick with sweat. “Why kill Sophie and Kelly Quantz?”

As I spoke, I crawled forward. Just in time, it turned out, as a bullet hit the tropical plants directly in front of the spot I had just vacated. That made two bullets she'd used. It didn't matter whether she had a second Mauser or a Sauer. Both chambered eight rounds. Six more to go. If she had another pistol that chambered more than eight, I was beyond screwed.

“After that girl's body was found in the locker, Sophie was going to tell the authorities.” Andrea snorted derisively. “She was there when Michael accidentally knocked the girl down. At the time, Sophie promised not to say anything. She knew Michael didn't do it on purpose, and it would destroy his future if people knew. She should have kept her promise. I met her in the church instead of Michael. It was so easy. Same with her drunkard husband. He tried to blackmail Michael. I met him at the swamp and took care of him. Even easier. I thought that was the end of it, so I threw the Mauser away. I didn't want it found in my possession. Not registered, you see, so can't be traced back to us. It was my grandfather's, but I had no choice.”

So far, Andrea hadn't moved from the doorway. I could see the lower part of her body weaving from side to side as she talked. She was trying to pinpoint my location. The next time I spoke, she would know I was making my way toward her, toward the door.

“What about me, Andrea?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I doubled back, toward Dwayne.

Her third and fourth bullets would have hit me had I stayed where I was. Every inch of my skin poured sweat and I was sure the Glock was going to slide right out of my grip when I finally pointed it at her.

“You've been making trouble for Michael since he threw you out like the piece of trash you are. You were there the night that girl died, and your snooping has caused us trouble ever since. As long as you're around, our political career is in jeopardy. I decided to kill you after Kelly Quantz turned out to be so easy. I just ran home and got another gun. It was my grandfather's, too. So fortunate that it uses the same ammunition.” She laughed, almost gaily. “I'll throw this one away as well. After. Then your boyfriend won't be able to connect us to either gun.”

Andrea's chattiness dwindled into silence. I tried desperately to think of something else to say. “Why did Mike argue with Faith?”

This time, I fast-crawled in the opposite direction until I was close to the door, on the opposite side of the room from Dwayne.

Two bullets smashed into the row of pots. Several exploded, throwing plants and earth under the table. A pain shot across my calf and I stifled a yelp. Did a piece of flying clay hit me? How many bullets was that? Six?

Andrea spat with contempt. “She was pregnant. Can you imagine? The slut was pregnant. She wanted Michael to help support her bastard.”

I heard what she said, but the information didn't shock me. What now? She had at least two bullets left. I could shoot her legs from under the table. Yes. That's what I'd do. But I preferred to wait until she was out of bullets.

“I want the pictures. And I
am
going to kill you.”

Dwayne groaned, and I watched her body swing away from me, toward the corner table. She couldn't see him yet, but in just a few precious seconds, she would find him.

Still, she stood in the doorway. I watched her Jimmy Choos pivot in the direction of Dwayne's hiding spot and she took a step. With one foot, she shoved a couple of pots aside. From across the room, I saw Dwayne's hand move limply. She saw it, too.

I didn't make a conscious decision. I wasn't even sure the damn Glock would fire when I pulled the trigger. Maybe Redfern didn't allow Dwayne to carry a loaded gun. Maybe I was going to fucking dine with my ancestors tonight. But I crawled out from under the table and stood up. Somebody screamed, “Drop the weapon.” I thought for an instant that it was coming from me.

Right, I was a fucking Dirty Harry. Make my day. She spun around and we both fired.

I missed. She didn't.