“So you killed her,” Jules said, making a statement rather than asking a question.
Helen’s gaze shifted from Dalton to Jules. “Yes, I killed her, and I took great pleasure in doing so. I was the one building my network, the one driving the business forward. Sylvia Granger had forgotten I was the star. Not her.”
Dalton couldn’t believe what a monster this woman must be to stand there and openly admit to killing his mother. Yes, he could see that even now Helen Owens was the star, and that Harold and Herbert were just two of her yes men.
“Homeland Security will bring you down,” Bruce said. “They are on to you.”
Helen waved his words away. “Let them try. They will fail just like the FBI did. They have been trying to crack us for years. Now we’re too big. Our network stretches too far and wide. We are in places you wouldn’t even think of. I plan to take over the world.”
“The world?” Dalton asked, thinking the old broad had really lost her marbles. He knew all about how to set high goals, but this was ridiculous.
“Yes, and I know you’re thinking I’m just a crazy old woman, Dalton. But I’m also a smart one. And I’m ruthless. My players know this. Sylvia might have been the first casualty, but she wasn’t the last. Others have thought the three of us are old and past it. But they soon found out a bullet knows no age limit.”
“And who’s responsible for killing Brandy Booker?” Bruce asked.
“I am,” Garrett Herbert said proudly. “She started out doing what she was told, but then she began asking too many questions. All she had to do was find the information from that picture on the wall. I even gave her a key to make things easy for her. And I told her where to look, but she didn’t follow orders. At least with Ramona Oakley, I didn’t need her to do anything that raised her suspicions.”
“How did you get the key?” Jules asked.
“I cleaned out Sylvia’s purse after I killed her,” Helen said, as if killing people was something she did every day.
“And what was so special about that picture?” Dalton asked, carefully trying to inch closer to Jules.
“I can answer that,” Bruce said. “All this time, everyone assumed it was a painting of the Fourth of July with all the fireworks going off in the sky, but it was a New Year’s Eve celebration for the new millennium. If you look closely, you can see Y2K written in one of the firecrackers. Sylvia was smart enough to leave that clue behind. Evidently, at some point, she knew not to trust you three.”
“Enough talking,” Harold said. “Both you and Helen have told them too much. But since they have to die, anyway, I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“And how are you going to explain our deaths?” Jules asked. Like Dalton, she was hoping Stonewall had put two and two together and right now all she knew was that she had to stall for time.
“Easy,” Helen said. “Each one of us is taking you to three different places. We have other players waiting to assist. They have orders to kill you and dispose of your bodies so you will never be found. I wish I had thought of doing that to Sylvia.”
“Instead, you framed my father,” Dalton said angrily.
“Which was so easy to do,” Helen said, smiling. “I saw that gun on the table and figured I would use it. Sylvia mentioned Sheppard was on his way to the boathouse for a meeting, which fell right into my plans. After shooting her, I wiped my prints from the gun and put it in a place where Sheppard couldn’t miss seeing it when he walked in. What happened worked like a charm.”
Trying to keep the conversation going, Jules asked, “And you got off Sutton Hills how?”
“By boat. Simple, really.”
“Enough talking,” Herbert said, smiling. “Before I turn you over to the players, Ms. Bradford, I plan on enjoying you the way I had intended that night Granger so rudely interrupted us during the dinner party.”
“Over my dead body,” Dalton said in a threatening tone.