This Old Homicide

“So you killed him,” I said, trying to keep the conversation going.

 

Her smile was crafty. “He had those drugs already in his briefcase. Who would’ve thought he was suicidal? But I guess he missed his daddy too much to go on living.”

 

“The police already suspect it was murder,” I said.

 

“Maybe so, but they don’t suspect it was me.”

 

“One of the hotel staff knew there was a woman in his room. It won’t take the cops long to narrow down the possibilities.”

 

She glared up at me. “That’s bull.”

 

“They smelled your perfume.”

 

“Oh.” She sniffed at her wrist. “I suppose it’s a flaw of mine, but I can’t help it. I do love my Valentino. Damn it, now I suppose I’ll have to stop wearing it.”

 

Althea handed the roll of duct tape to Jane. “Tear off four long pieces for me.”

 

“No.” Jane tossed the roll of duct tape across the room.

 

Without warning, Althea smacked her across the face. I screamed. The woman was horrible!

 

She retrieved the tape and handed it back to Jane. “You’d be smart to remember who’s got a gun pointed at you.”

 

Jane’s jaw was tighter than I’d ever seen it. I was feeling pretty tense, too, as Jane began ripping off lengths of duct tape and handing them to Althea.

 

“That’s better,” the woman said. Slipping the gun into her jacket pocket, she circled around Jane, grabbed hold of both her arms, and yanked them backward.

 

Jane let out a shriek, pulled her arms away, and jumped up from the chair. “What’re you doing?”

 

“Making sure you don’t go anywhere.” She yanked the gun from her pocket and shoved it in Jane’s stomach. “Now sit down.”

 

“You’re sick!” Jane shouted.

 

“Quiet, or I’ll shut you up permanently.”

 

“You’re going to anyway, so why should I care?” And Jane suddenly screamed louder than I’d ever heard her scream.

 

Althea smacked her face again. “I said be quiet!”

 

“Screw you!” Jane shouted.

 

Althea turned and pointed the gun right in my face. “Sit down, Jane, or I’ll kill your friend right now.”

 

I couldn’t breathe. I was frozen in fear, but I’d never been more proud of Jane. I prayed that we’d both live through this and make Althea pay for every hideous thing she’d done to us. I cringed as I recalled thinking that my dad might actually like to meet Althea Tannis. I really needed to work on my taste in people.

 

Grudgingly Jane sat and Althea wrapped Jane’s wrists together behind her chair. Then she knelt down and taped Jane’s ankles to the wooden chair legs. This time, she kept the gun on the floor right beside her knee. I knew that if I tried to make a move for the gun, she would be able to grab it faster. God only knew what she would do then.

 

“That’s a good girl,” Althea crooned.

 

“Oh, shut up,” Jane muttered.

 

Althea chuckled.

 

I wasn’t sure I could speak, but I had to try to distract her from hurting Jane further.

 

“I figured out last night that you were coming here by boat,” I said. “I went through the traffic camera reports and they’d never recorded your car coming or going from Lighthouse Cove. That’s when I realized I had never seen you drive up in a car.”

 

“Aren’t you clever?” She pointed the gun at my head and handed me the duct tape. “I’m going to need more tape strips.”

 

I had no choice but to start tearing off pieces and handing them to her.

 

“Now, hold still,” she warned, and knelt behind me. I couldn’t see her, couldn’t see where the gun was, but I felt her taping my right ankle to the chair. I thought she planned to ignore my comment about driving, but then she began to talk. “When I first heard that they were installing cameras on the 101, I stopped driving that route. Besides, it’s faster by boat. I pull in to the marina and—”

 

“It’s only a short walk to Jesse’s house,” I finished for her. Earlier I had driven to Blue Point to speak with the harbormaster, who had verified that Althea traveled by boat almost every day. And for the past three weeks, she had taken the boat out almost every night around sunset and returned sometime before dawn.

 

“Right again,” she muttered, clearly unhappy with me. She proved it by wrenching my left ankle painfully.

 

Instinctively I kicked back, hitting her hand.

 

“Watch it,” she snarled, standing up and slapping my ear hard enough to cause my eyes to cross.

 

“You watch it,” I snapped. It was a juvenile response, but I couldn’t help it. She was a nasty bully.

 

Pointing the gun at me, she snarled, “Put your hands behind the chair.” To help me along, she grabbed one of my arms and twisted it back.

 

I couldn’t help but jerk my arm away from her.

 

“I’m going to give you one last chance to avoid having me put a bullet in your head.”