Paxton barely looked at her as she moved toward him. She realized that as far as he was concerned she was not important, certainly no one he needed to worry about. She was just Patient B.
She stumbled as she went past a workbench, and lurched to the side. She put out a hand as though to grab the edge of the counter. Instead she swept everything within reach off the bench.
A storm of glass beakers, flasks, test tubes, and instruments crashed onto the tiled floor.
Paxton flinched in reaction. Instinctively he turned toward Adelaide, aiming the gun at her. She dropped to the floor behind the workbench just as the pistol roared, shattering more glass.
Paxton turned back around to confront Jake but he was too late.
Jake had already thrown the lapis blue fountain pen as if it were a small knife.
Paxton reacted violently, reeling back a couple of steps. He screamed and clawed wildly at his throat. Simultaneously he squeezed the trigger in a reflexive action. A window in the office exploded. The screams from ward five rose in a muffled roar.
Moving very fast, Jake charged toward Paxton, who got off one last shot before losing his nerve. He swung around and ran for the stairwell.
Jake went after him.
The Duchess appeared in the shadows at the top of the stone staircase. Paxton shoved her aside. The Duchess reeled back against the banister, shrieking in dismay.
Paxton tripped over the long skirts of her old-fashioned gown. They both started to fall. Jake grabbed the Duchess’s wrist and hauled her into the safety of the laboratory.
Paxton screamed and toppled headfirst down the stone staircase. Adelaide heard a series of sickening thuds, and then it was over.
The moans and wails on ward five ceased very suddenly. An ominous silence fell.
Jake went down the stairs. Adelaide followed. She stopped midway and looked over the iron railing. She could see Paxton sprawled on his back on the bottom steps. His head was twisted at an unnatural angle. Jake’s fountain pen was sticking out of his neck.
Jake reached the body, crouched, and checked for a pulse. He looked up at Adelaide, his eyes burning hot with the aftereffects of violence. He shook his head once.
He retrieved his fountain pen, wiped it clean on Paxton’s white linen jacket, and got to his feet. He looked up at Adelaide again.
“Are you all right?” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I think so. What about you?”
“I’m all right,” he said.
The Duchess appeared at the top of the stairs.
“One of the servants told me that you had returned to pick up something that you had left behind, dear,” she said to Adelaide. “That was a very risky thing to do.”
“Yes, I know,” Adelaide said. “That’s why Mr. Truett accompanied me. Don’t tell anyone but he’s a government agent who is on a secret mission. That man on the floor is a criminal who came here to steal some drugs.”
“The deliveryman?” the Duchess said. “I’m not surprised to hear that he’s a thief. I never did trust him. Whenever he showed up a few valuables always went missing. He was here the night you left, my dear. He was wearing a surgical mask, of all things, but I recognized him. A very rude man.”
The orderlies appeared at the bottom of the staircase. They were disheveled and flushed.
“We thought we heard gunshots,” Buddy said. “We took cover.”
“Gosh, that was quick thinking,” Adelaide said. “I don’t suppose it occurred to you to come to our rescue instead of cowering in the nurses’ station?”
The Duchess tsk-tsked. “So hard to get good staff these days.”
Victor eyed Paxton’s body. “What the hell happened to him?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” the Duchess said in regal tones. “He fell down the stairs.”
Buddy and Victor both eyed Jake with suspicion.
“He fell, huh?” Victor said.
“Obviously,” Jake said. He didn’t offer anything else.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Adelaide looked at Victor. “Did you call the police?”
“No,” Victor said. “We couldn’t get to a phone.”
“Oh, right, because you were taking cover in the nurses’ station,” Adelaide said.
“Who called the cops?” Buddy asked, bewildered.
“I think I know,” Jake said. He looked at Adelaide. “Come with me. There’s something we need to do before the police get here.”
“All right,” Adelaide said.
The Duchess looked at Jake. “You’ll take good care of her, won’t you? Wouldn’t want her to end up back in that dreadful room at the end of the hall.”
“Trust me,” Jake said, “I’ll make certain that Adelaide never returns to the Rushbrook Sanitarium.”
The Duchess smiled in approval. “She doesn’t belong here.”
Jake looked at Adelaide. “I know. She belongs with me.”
* * *
? ? ?
?The car Paxton had driven to Rushbrook was parked behind the sanitarium’s kitchen. There was a large hatbox in the trunk. It was stuffed with envelopes and packets of photographs, diaries, letters, and assorted papers.
“That must be the stash of blackmail material that Zolanda and Thelma Leggett collected,” Adelaide said.
“Looks like it,” Jake said. He hoisted the hatbox out of the trunk. “With luck the diary will be inside this box.”
“What are you going to do with the rest of the extortion materials?” Adelaide asked.
“The police don’t need to know about this hatbox,” Jake said. “We’ll take it back to Burning Cove and destroy the contents.”
The first of the police vehicles rolled up to the guardhouse and stopped just as Jake closed the trunk of Luther’s maroon speedster. A man in a Rushbrook Police Department uniform climbed out from behind the wheel.
“Got a message for Special Agent Jake Truett,” he shouted. “Anyone here by that name?”
Jake walked toward him. “I’m Jake Truett.”
“Just got a long distance-call from someone named Luther Pell in Burning Cove. He said you might be in real trouble here at the sanitarium. Something about a dangerous man named Calvin Paxton having pulled a fast one. Evidently this Paxton fellow managed to sneak out of Burning Cove without anyone noticing until about half an hour ago. Pell seemed to think this Paxton guy might be on his way here and that he was after you and a lady.”
“Paxton won’t be a problem for anyone now,” Jake said.
Chapter 49
“It’s a version of a throwing weapon called a shuriken,” Jake said. He looked down at the lapis blue fountain pen in his hand. “A few years ago a man I did business with in the Far East taught me how to use one. They come in a variety of shapes and are meant to be easily concealed. This one was designed to my specifications. Here in the States no one thinks twice about a man carrying a fountain pen.”
“It’s so small,” Adelaide said. “I’m amazed it made such an impact on Paxton.”
It was early evening. She was exhausted but her nerves were still on edge. She wished she had some of the tisane that she used for the bad nights. She had been obliged to make do with regular tea.
She and Jake were sitting in a cabin in an auto court halfway between Rushbrook and Burning Cove. Shortly after they had finished with the police and started the long drive back, the fog rolled in over the coastal highway. Driving had become hazardous. As Jake had pointed out, they had taken enough risks for one day.
They had pulled off the road to spend the night at the first establishment that appeared clean and comfortable.
There was a fire going on the hearth. The hatbox was on the floor beside Jake’s chair. The briefcase containing the files they had taken from Ormsby’s office sat next to it.
“A shuriken is not designed to kill,” Jake said, “although it can be used that way at close range. It is, after all, a very sharp blade. But it’s primarily a weapon of distraction. You use it to startle and, with luck, frighten your opponent. The idea is to gain a little time to move in on him.”
“Which is exactly how it worked,” Adelaide said. “Something to be said for all that traveling you did while you were in the import-export business. But I’m glad you’re out of that line of work.”