Mayhem at the Orient Express (20 page)

“You got that right.” Chandra snapped another chip in two.

“So the facts are . . .” I trailed a chip through the bowl of salsa in front of me.
“That Ted was mad at Peter because Ted got fooled and rented him the space even after
Peter stiffed him back in Cleveland.”

“Check.” Kate made a mark in the air. “That’s why Ted lied about the peanuts. He wanted
us to think that was the reason he and Peter were fighting, when they were really
fighting about the lease. He thought if word got out that they knew each other previously,
it would make him look like a suspect.”

“Does it?” I asked no one in particular. I hated second-guessing my own (if I do say
so myself) brilliant deduction about Princess Dragomiroff, but as Luella had pointed
out, sometimes there is no escaping the facts. “Ted doesn’t have an alibi for the
time of the murder, and he does have motive.”

Chandra wrinkled her nose. “I thought we thought the murderer was—”

“We did. We do,” I assured her. “I just want to get everything lined up and in order.
Ted could have done it, though I think murder is a pretty drastic way to handle a
lease dispute. My guess is that Ted’s the type who would have used the courts, not
a knife, to settle things with Peter. And then there’s Amanda—”

“Well, can you blame her for hating her ex?” Chandra topped off her drink. “If there’s
one unalienable right every woman has, it’s the right to hold a grudge against an
ex-husband.”

Even when each of us fixed her with a look, she went right on looking bitter. In a
Chandra sort of way. Which meant her mouth was pulled into a thin line and her eyes
were narrowed. But there was still a little smile that tickled the corners of her
lips.

“Well, just because Hank and I sometimes get along doesn’t mean I don’t hold a grudge,”
she explained, and grinned. “Besides, when I think that Hank was actually flirting
with Mariah . . .” She shivered.

And we all laughed.

“Chuck had us all fooled,” I said. “The fact that Mariah was so perfect, that should
have told us something.”

“Maybe it did tell us something,” Luella pointed out. “Maybe Mariah was just Mariah
and this has nothing to do with Chuck. Maybe those condoms in her room—”

“Weren’t because
she
was hoping to meet someone but because
he
was,” Kate said. “I think Bea’s right. Chuck and Mariah are the same person. After
all, nobody’s that perfect.”

Of course, Kate was, and the fact that she didn’t even realize it surprised me. And
realizing that, I actually felt my opinion of Kate soften. Well, just a little bit,
anyway.

Warm and fuzzy moment complete, I got back to the matter at hand. “Something tells
me none of this would have happened if the real Poirot were around. No offense, Chandra,”
I added, and since she was sipping her margarita, she wiggled her fingers to tell
me none was taken. “Our friend the Belgian detective would have seen right through
Chuck’s disguise. If,” I added, just to be fair to all sides, “Chuck really was disguised.”

“Maybe a detective would have caught on right away. In a book. But let’s face it,
life isn’t a book.”

How true! I nodded. “In so many novels, things are usually tied up nice and neat at
the end. Authors have that luxury. Each author is in charge of the universe she creates.
Christie was able to give us a satisfying solution to
Orient Express
because she set up the story in the first place. With all the clues lined up and
all the pieces in place, the ending just flowed organically.”

Luella had passed on a margarita. She finished her bottle of lite beer. “There you
go, talking like an English teacher again!” She sat back and yawned. We’d convened
our little meeting at the usual time, seven o’clock, but what with discussing the
book (a little) and the events of the last week (a lot), it was almost eleven. “I’ve
got to get a move on,” she said. She pushed back her chair but she didn’t get up from
the table. “I’ve got a charter going out in a couple days and there’s plenty of cleanup
to do on the boat thanks to the snow.”

“Back to reality.” Kate finished the last of her drink, keeping her place.

“Yeah, time to get back to the real world.” Chandra sat back, but she didn’t get up,
either.

“It’s sure going to be quiet around here,” I commented. “It’s been—”

“A huge inconvenience for everybody,” Kate said.

“A major hassle,” Luella added, “what with all the work we’ve all had to do to keep
everything up and running and everyone happy.”

“A big old pain in the butt.” Chandra grimaced, but when it came to hiding her true
emotions, she wasn’t much of a player. Her cheeks dimpled. “I mean, what with having
to spend a week with the likes of my book discussion group and the world’s two most
annoying neighbors.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Kate reached for her purse.

“Which is exactly what I was thinking,” I added, not to be outdone. “Which is why
I was wondering if maybe you’d all like to stay for just another night.”

Luella’s eyes lit. “One more breakfast together.”

“And a chance to discuss our case again in the morning,” Kate added.

“Meg brought over a batch of frozen almond cranberry muffins this afternoon.” Chandra’s
eyes twinkled. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you about them, Bea. You were supposed to
look in the freezer and find the surprise. But if we’re all here in the morning . . .”

“My girl makes one heck of an almond cranberry muffin,” Luella said.

It was all the encouragement we needed to make up our minds.

20

I
woke up to the sounds of someone walking around upstairs.

“Big deal,” I grumbled at the same time I punched my pillow and flipped over. “Guests
in the house,” I reminded myself. “Kate and Luella and Chandra.” Only no Hank for
Chandra to pay a clandestine visit to, and no sounds of water running in the bathroom,
either.

With a mumbled curse, I rolled to my back so I could push myself up on my elbows and
listen some more.

Footsteps, surely. And not like someone was just walking around to get a drink of
water or a book to occupy the hours when sleep wouldn’t come.

Slow footsteps.

Stealthy.

Like George Mattingly’s the night I woke up back in my New York condo and found him
in my kitchen.

That’s all it took. That one thought.

My body froze and my mind went numb along with it. All that stuff about taking control
of my life and owning my power was great in theory, and from the safety of my therapist’s
office. But when push came to shove and reality thumped to the sounds of furtive footsteps,
I’m afraid it was a little hard to remember.

That is, until I heard something else—scuffling, and a muffled cry.

I was out of bed so fast, I didn’t bother with my bunny slippers. I took the steps
two at a time, and when I got upstairs to the hallway, Luella was already standing
outside the door of her room. I didn’t need to be a famous Belgian detective to know
something was wrong. Her eyes were wide with fear and her face was as pale as her
pink flannel nightgown.

But then, I could hardly blame her. There was a man standing right behind her. He
had one of Luella’s arms twisted behind her back. His other arm was around her. The
gleam of the night-light outside the bathroom door glinted off the knife he held to
her throat.

Dim light or not, I would have recognized those shoulders anywhere.

“Chuck Anderson.” My voice hop-skipped, just like my heartbeat. “Or should I say Mariah
Gilroy?”

He didn’t so much smile as he flashed his teeth. “I wondered when someone would catch
on. You gotta admit, it was inspired.”

“If you hadn’t left Mariah’s clothes behind, no one ever would have caught on,” I
told him. “But you didn’t need them anymore, did you? You arrived on the island as
a woman, and you left as a man. It was the perfect cover.”

Chuck inched out into the hallway, bending Luella’s arm to get her to move, and instinctively,
I lunged forward.

“Stay where you are.” Chuck gave Luella’s arm another twist and though she didn’t
call out, there were tears in her eyes. “You let me leave, and no one will get hurt,”
he said.

I made a sweeping gesture that would have done Vanna proud. “So leave.”

With Luella in front of him like a shield, he took another couple steps out of the
room.

“Only . . .” I moved forward to block the stairway. “Luella’s staying here.”

Mariah had a decidedly attractive smile. Chuck, not so much.

Aiming that predatory smirk my way, he inched closer to the stairs. “You think I’m
that stupid?” he asked. Call me psychic, I don’t think he was really looking for an
answer. “All I have to do is leave the old lady behind and walk out of here and you’ll
be right on the phone to the cops.”

“I can understand how you’d think that.” I refused to budge. Chuck would have to go
around me—or through me—to get to the stairs. “Let Luella stay and I won’t call the
cops. I promise.”

His laugh sent a chill up my spine. “And I just fell off the turnip truck. No. If
I’m going to get off this island, I’m going to need a little insurance.” He tugged
Luella’s arm. “She’s it.”

“But taking Luella with you, that’s not really going to make a difference as far as
you leaving the island, is it?” There I was, trying to reason with a murderer. It
might have been crazy, but it was my only option.

He inched the knife closer to Luella’s bare neck, and in the blade flashed in the
glow of the night-light. “It better make a difference, if you want to see her alive
again,” Chuck said. “Or maybe I should just take care of her right now. It’s her fault
I had to come all the way back here.” With a grunt, he shoved Luella toward the steps.

Luella opened her mouth in a silent scream and threw out one arm in a useless attempt
to steady herself. I let out a shout and moved forward to try to catch her just as
Chuck yanked back on Luella’s arm to keep her from tumbling down the steps.

After that, a couple things happened all at once.

The door to Suite #3 inched open and a sleepy-looking Chandra stepped out into the
hallway, rubbing her eyes. She didn’t stay sleepy-looking for long. Not once she realized
what was happening.

The door to Suite #1 popped open, too, and her robe hanging open, Kate raced into
the hallway.

And Chuck laughed.

“Now this is just perfect,” he said, but not like he actually believed it. “I’ve got
you all here.” His gaze slid to me. “And here I was counting on you being home alone
tonight.” I didn’t like the way he said that, or the look he gave me when he did.
At the same time, I told myself not to panic, because that worst-case scenario hadn’t
materialized; I reminded myself that this scenario was bad enough.

Still hanging on tight to Luella, Chuck took another step in my direction, and I knew
I had to do something to stall him. I didn’t know what or how. I only knew that in
spite of the fact that my knees knocked against each other and it felt as if there
was a hand around my throat, I couldn’t let him leave the house with Luella.

“You said it was her fault.” I blurted out the words and pointed toward Luella. “You
said you had to come back because of Luella. What were you talking about, Chuck?”

“Oh, come on!” His face twisted. “You haven’t figured that out yet? You got the rest
of it right. I mean, you knew who I was, so you must also have known about the loot
I had hidden upstairs at that Chinese restaurant.”

I nodded, then wondered if he could see me in the half dark. “Yeah. I know that. The
night the storm started, you went to get the jewelry and ran into Peter. That’s why
you killed him, wasn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes. “You make it sound like it matters.”

“Everyone matters.” I could have slapped myself the moment the words left my mouth.
This was not the time for a can’t-we-all-get-along
speech. Chuck was in no mood to be conciliatory, and frankly, it wasn’t sounding like
all that good an idea to me, either. “You went back and got the jewelry. And last
Saturday, you planted it in Levi’s bedroll. Why?”

“It sure wasn’t to make him look guilty, that was just dumb luck.” Chuck was nearly
to the top of the steps now. “The package ripped open. The one I had the bracelet
in. Just when I stepped into the kitchen.”

“Which is why you asked for that first cup of coffee. To distract me!” In hindsight,
it seemed so obvious. “And rather than have the bracelet drop onto the floor where
somebody might see it—”

“I kicked it into the sleeping bag. I thought I’d have time to go back and get it,
but you four . . .” Chuck made a face. “You collected the bedroll for that stupid
play of yours.”

By this time, Luella and I were nearly toe to toe. I either had to stand my ground
or give way to Chuck and let him lead her down the stairs and out the door.

That, or stall him a little while longer.

“That doesn’t explain why you came back,” I said. “Unless . . .” Honestly, I wasn’t
trying to impress the guy. I mean, really, who cares what a lying, murderous thief
thinks of me? “You didn’t just bring the bracelet with you from the restaurant. You
had the rest of the jewelry, too. Those rings Hank said were never recovered.”

“And my room was being cleaned,” Chuck said. “Which means I couldn’t stash the stuff
in there. So I ducked into the only empty room.” He tipped his head back toward Suite
#6. “Then that little girl had to go and get sick.”

“And someone was in the room with her for the rest of the weekend.” It made sense.
But it didn’t help us out of the jam we were in. “You came back tonight, and you got
what you came for,” I told him. “And really, none of us cares if you leave with the
jewelry.”

“Right. Like you’re not the four nosiest broads I’ve ever met.” Chuck took a step
forward.

And I saw my one and only chance.

I moved back just far enough to be out of his way, and as soon as his gaze dropped
to the steps so he could see where he was going, I grabbed Luella’s arm and pulled
her to me for all I was worth. Chuck hadn’t anticipated a move so bold, and he hesitated
just long enough for me to whirl around and push Luella into Chandra’s open arms.

“You can’t do that!” Chuck swung his arm and I heard the swish of the knife cutting
through the air right in front of my nose. Honest, that’s the only reason I ducked
and lurched forward. I had no intention—well, no conscious intention—of knocking him
down the steps.

Anderson’s feet went out from under him, but I suppose if prison teaches you nothing
else, it hones your reflexes. Poised in mid-air and with no more than a nanosecond
before he started to tumble, he snaked an arm around me and took me down the steps
with him.

Somewhere between the top step where my left ankle twisted and the next one down where
my arm landed under me, I heard Kate yell. “I’ve already called the police, Anderson.”
I got a quick look at her face as she peered over the side of the railing, and in
one of those lucid moments that comes only at the most inconvenient times, wondered
if Kate Wilder’s face was the last thing I’d see while I was still alive.

Wouldn’t that be a kick in the pants?

No worries. The next thing I saw was the carpeting on the stairway coming up to meet
my nose.

And the knife that Anderson still clutched in one hand, dangerously close.

He hit, butt to step, grunted, and slid to the bottom of the stairway.

I wasn’t quite so lucky. My shoulder smacked into a riser, and I oofed out a grunt
of pain and bumped down the rest of the stairs.

I’m pretty sure I didn’t black out. But the next thing I knew, Anderson was standing
over me, that knife of his dangling from one hand.

“You heard Kate.” My right elbow hurt like hell but I managed to raise myself on it,
anyway. Nothing says helpless like flat on your back, and there was no way I was going
to send that message. Besides, from the sounds of the scrambling on the stairs, I
knew Luella, Kate, and Chandra were on their way down. I couldn’t afford to let them
get too close. Not when there was venom in Anderson’s grin and a bad intention inherent
in every flick of the knife blade.

“You’d better leave while you can, Anderson.” When I braced my feet against the floor
and scooted toward the wall, pain shot through my ankle. “You heard Kate. She called
the cops. It’s not going to take them long to get here. If you’re leaving with that
jewelry . . .”

Right on cue, I heard the scream of a siren, and through the windows, saw the nighttime
sky explode with pulsing red light.

Anderson was no dummy. Don’t ask me where he was going or how he intended to get there,
but like I said, no doubt prison teaches you all sorts of things. One of them was
self-preservation.

With a curse, he scrambled for the door, yanked it open, and took off down the front
steps.

Good thing he was a big man, and after the tumble we’d both taken, not especially
fast. He was just at the bottom of the steps when I reached that little table where
I kept the basket of slipper socks. I grabbed the vase next to the basket, whispered
a prayer for forgiveness to those gods who are in charge of things like Tiffany vases,
and let fly.

When the cops screeched to a stop in front of the B and B, they found Chuck Anderson
stunned at the bottom of the steps. And with one hell of a goose egg on the back of
his head.