A Dead End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 1) (18 page)

The phone fell silent and Kit waited for Ernie to make a move. When would the police burst in? They hadn’t discussed the logistics. It wasn’t like Ernie had to try and kill her. They just needed to apprehend him…and a confession wouldn’t hurt.

A breeze passed her cheek and she realized that Ernie was standing beside the bed. Would he be able to see the youthful glow of her skin? Maybe she should’ve done more to age her face.

Something crashed down onto her face and Kit bit into the fabric. A pillow. Ernie was trying to smother her with a pillow. Poor Thora wouldn’t have stood a chance. Kit, however, had experience with pillow smothering.

She dug her nails into Ernie’s arm, drawing blood. He cried out and released the pillow long enough for her to get out from under it. Her wig got caught underneath and it fell off as she gasped for air. She scrambled to the other side of the bed and landed on her feet before Ernie had time to process the situation.

“What?” Ernie blinked in confusion. “You’re not Thora.”

“And you’re not dead,” Kit shot back.

He narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” He glanced at the wig on the bed. “Why are you dressed up like her?”

“Come on now, Ernie,” Kit chided him. “Surely, you can put two and two together. Or maybe you can’t. That would explain your money problems.”

It was then that she noticed the knife in his hand. It seemed that Ernie had a backup plan. Where were those cops? As usual, they were slower than a salt-covered snail. With her back to the wall and only a double bed between them, Kit was suddenly aware of the position she’d put herself in.

“Come a little closer so I can get a good look at you,” he said.

“I think your line is ‘Grandma, what big eyes you have.’”

“It’s not your big eyes I’m looking at,” he sneered and Kit felt a strong desire to kick him into sterility.

“Drop the knife before the police get here,” Kit urged. “And maybe they won’t shoot you.”

“Why do you look familiar?” Ernie asked, squinting suspiciously at Kit.

“I was on TV,” Kit said.

“Wait,” Ernie said and broke into a lecherous grin. “You’re the girl who bought my house. You found the body.”

“That’s right and I’m very famous. I have five hundred thousand Instagram followers. If you kill me, it will be a high-profile investigation. It won’t be like Carl.”

Kit caught the flash of fear in Ernie’s expression. “You know about Carl?”

“What happened, Ernie? Did he catch you sneaking off in the middle of the night?”

“It was an accident,” Ernie growled. “I thought he was one of Delfino’s guys. I was in the motor home, packing to leave, and he came at me from behind.”

“And you killed him?”

“I had my knife in my hand,” Ernie said, holding up the blade. “I was using it to cut off a piece of duct tape. Carl surprised me and I reacted.” He sounded more annoyed than apologetic.

“That’s kind of you to bring the murder weapon along,” Kit remarked. “It’ll save the police some trouble.”

Ernie glanced around the dark room. “What police? Why aren’t they here to protect you? Killing you will be as easy as killing Carl. Even easier because you’re just a girl.”

“I’m not just a girl, you misogynistic pig,” Kit objected. “I’m Katherine Winthrop Wilder.”

“You and all those other Mayflower bitches can go to hell,” he barked.

Ernie lunged for her and Kit kicked him in the face, catching his cheek. He recovered quickly and came at her again. This time she blocked him with a front kick that knocked the knife from his fist. Kit watched as it slid under the bed. Hans had taught her that move. The kick was second nature to her — a basic fight move that she’d performed on many
Fool’s Gold
villains. Ernie was tougher than he looked too, though. He stumbled back but managed to remain standing. Without hesitation, he launched himself straight toward her. Kit fell against the wall, whacking the back of her head. By the time she regained her focus, Ernie had retrieved the knife from under the bed. She shook off the impending headache and scrambled to her feet.

Ernie was on her side of the room now, gripping the knife. Kit’s gaze flickered to the open bedroom door. Despite the darkness, there was enough moonlight streaming in through the window to allow Kit to see where she needed to go. As fast as she was, she still had obstacles in her way, namely, a double bed and a knife-wielding bald guy.

Suddenly, Kit remembered the gun under Thora’s mattress. Was it still there? Thora had a valid license for it so there was no reason for the police to remove it.

“You’re not getting out of the room alive,” he warned.

Keeping her eyes fixed on Ernie, she dove to the side, rolling across the top of the bed. The bed was more cushioned than she’d expected and she bounced, landing in a heap on the other side. Ernie blocked the doorway before she had time to spring forward.

“Enough acrobatics,” he growled.

She crab-walked backward toward the top end of the mattress and reached underneath. Her fingers gripped the cold metal and she pulled the gun from its hiding spot. Although it was smaller than the one she was accustomed to holding as Ellie Gold, Kit felt completely at ease pointing it at the criminal in front of her.

“The saints are made of tough stock, Ernie,” she said, moving to a standing position. Her confidence grew with every inch she rose. “You should know that, having lived in Westdale.”

The second he laid eyes on the gun, Ernie’s demeanor shifted and Kit got the sense that she was in control of the situation.

“What show were you on?” Ernie asked. “It’s bugging me.” Kit could already see the bruise forming on his cheek from where she’d kicked him.

“
Fool’s Gold
,” she replied proudly. “I played a cop. I even had my own catchphrase.”

“I got your bling right here,” Romeo said and Kit looked over Ernie’s shoulder to see a pair of handcuffs glinting in the moonlight.

Kit sat on Phyllis’s front porch, sipping a peppermint tea and replaying her adventures with Ernie for the neighbors.

“I can’t believe he planned to smother me with my new pillow,” Thora said. “It said right on the packaging that it posed no risk to my health.”

“I can’t believe the police took so long to get here,” Phyllis grumbled. “You could’ve been killed.”

“A mix-up in communication according to Romeo,” Kit said. “They thought it was only a one-night show.”

“I’m sure it was Harley’s fault,” Phyllis said. “That idiot probably set his alarm for ten a.m. instead of ten p.m.”

“So is he courting you yet?” Thora asked.

“Harley?” Kit asked, aghast.

Phyllis clucked her tongue. “Thora, nobody courts anymore. They jump into bed without knowing each other’s name half the time.” Phyllis noticed Kit’s incredulous expression. “Don’t give me that look. I have HBO.”

Kit didn’t want to imagine which racy shows Phyllis watched on premium cable.

“Well, it would be nice to have a handsome policeman on the street,” Thora said, “especially since Thornhill Road seems to be a hotbed of criminal activity.”

Kit pursed her lips. As sweet as they were, she didn’t want to share details of her personal life with her neighbors. Not that Romeo was courting her or jumping into her bed.

“Listen, I think we should throw a party to celebrate Ernie’s capture,” Thora suggested. “I’ll even host it.”

“Thora, don’t do this to yourself,” Phyllis complained. “You take on these projects that you can’t handle and then everyone has to scramble at the last minute to help.”

Kit looked from Phyllis to Thora. “You two are like sisters. Exactly how long have you been neighbors?”

“Long enough,” Phyllis said.

“Over forty years,” Thora said.

“You can’t remember whether you ate breakfast but you can remember that?” Phyllis asked.

Thora shrugged. “I remember the important things.”

“Okay ladies, as fun as this evening has been, I really need my beauty sleep.” Kit handed her empty mug to Phyllis. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Maybe you should court him,” Thora suggested as Kit hopped down to the front lawn.

“She doesn’t need to court anybody,” Phyllis snapped. “For Pete’s sake, she just started a new chapter in her life. Why would she rush into a relationship with someone she barely knows?”

“She’s such a pretty girl,” Thora replied. “She should flaunt it while she still has it. Beauty doesn’t last forever. Look at me, I’m yesterday’s cover girl.”

“I think you mean last century’s cover girl,” Phyllis shot back.

Kit continued to her house across the street, the sound of their argument fading. Even though the squabble was about her, her participation didn’t seem to be a requirement.

She stepped inside her house and closed the door behind her. Phyllis was right. She was starting a new chapter in her life. Now that she was here, she couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

The day of Thora’s party arrived and Kit was relieved to see that it was cloudless and warm. That meant they’d stay outside. Part of her didn’t want to revisit the inside of Thora’s house anytime soon.

Kit carried a tray of brownies to the long table set up in Thora’s backyard.

“Did you make these or did you have Diane do it?” Phyllis asked with one skeptical eyebrow raised.

“I made them,” Kit insisted. “I even added white chocolate chips. See?” She held up the tray for closer inspection.

“Hmpf,” Phyllis said, taking a brownie and biting it in half.

“Phyllis,” Kit scolded her. “Those are for dessert.”

“When you get to be my age, waiting for dessert could mean you don’t get any. Ever.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kit said. “You’re not that old.” Kit regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. In actual fact, Phyllis probably was that old. She just hid it better than most.

“Too bad Peregrine won’t be joining us,” Thora remarked, appearing behind them with a stack of cloth napkins.

“Well, she was lucky the police didn’t charge her with anything,” Kit said.

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Phyllis scoffed. “Unless luck also goes by the name Chief Riley.”

“Or Ted Bingham,” Thora said. She glanced at Kit. “Her lawyer.”

“Peregrine claims she didn’t hire Carl to hurt Ernie,” Kit told them. “She only asked Carl to use his influence to persuade Ernie to fix up his house.”

“And there’s no one left to dispute her version,” Thora said knowingly.

“So why did she sneak off?” Phyllis asked. “Did she explain that?”

“Her sister apparently suffered a stroke and she rushed to Sedona,” Kit explained. “Romeo verified her story, but he still thinks she snuck off because she thought that Carl killed Ernie and she’d be held responsible. It’s likely that the break-in at Thora’s scared Peregrine into thinking that Carl would come back to silence her.”

“Good riddance to her,” Phyllis said. “It isn’t just a messy yard that brings down a neighborhood.”

“Do we know anything about the people who bought her house?” Kit asked, looking at Phyllis. She seemed to be the direct line to all the Westdale gossip.

“Not yet,” Phyllis replied. “But let’s hope they’re better than the last neighbor who moved in. What a nightmare.”

Kit hip checked Phyllis before realizing her mistake. “Oh Phyllis, I’m so sorry,” she said. “See, you seem so young that I forget how old you are.”

Phyllis rubbed her hip. “Good thing for you this is a replacement.”

Thora licked her lips. “Forget the brownies, the real treat just arrived.”

Kit followed her gaze to see Romeo striding across the lawn to greet them. Instead of his usual suit, he was dressed in pale blue shorts and a torso skimming black T-shirt. Leather sandals completed the casual look.

“I hope you don’t mind that I invited him,” Thora whispered. “But tough if you do. This shindig needs eye candy.”

Kit went to elbow Thora in the ribs but then thought better of it. She really needed to adjust to her elderly companions. She was used to physical contact with the other actors on set.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Kit teased as Romeo approached them.

“You’ve seen me in my summer casual clothes before,” he reminded her.

“Hiding in a booth in Provincetown Pancakes,” she pointed out. “You’re out in the open here. In broad daylight no less.”

Romeo glanced around at the neighbors, soaking up the party atmosphere. “I guess I am.”

He produced a box from behind his back and handed it to Kit.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A token of our appreciation,” he said, “for helping us bring Ernie to justice.”

She opened the box to reveal an oversized cupcake decorated with a pair of gold handcuffs. “How sweet. Thank you.”

“I tried for a bottle of tequila and edible underpants, but the department rejected it.” Romeo broke into a broad smile that set Kit’s heart alight.

“Cupcakes are an acceptable substitute.”

“You’ll be pleased to know that Carl’s remains finally turned up and the DNA results confirmed that the body is Carl’s,” Romeo said.

Kit cocked her head. “They turned up?”

“Let me guess,” Phyllis interjected. “They mysteriously disappeared until Peregrine was no longer a murder suspect.”

“Nothing mysterious about it,” Romeo remarked. “Harley and Jamison were the ones who supposedly dropped the remains at the M.E.’s office.”

Kit understood. If Chief Riley believed, like Peregrine, that Carl had killed Ernie, then he would’ve hidden the body to slow down the investigation. Harley and Jamison did as they were told. She’d say one thing for them, Westdale protected its own. Too bad for Carl that he hadn’t lived in Westdale.

“Would you mind if I had a private word with Miss Wilder?” Romeo asked the two older women.

“Take all the private time you need,” Thora said. “My room’s available if you need it. Thanks to Kit, that’s the most action my bedroom has seen in a decade.”

Kit blushed furiously as Romeo steered her toward quiet corner of the lawn.

“Now that the investigation is over, I thought today might be the day we have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around crime,” he told her.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she teased, echoing her earlier statement. Looking at him now, she had the feeling that the fun was only just beginning.