FOR A LONG, terrible moment, the room reverberated from the gunshot.
Liam had fallen over on his side, and now his blood trailed from his forehead to the floor. I wanted to look away but couldn’t.
A wail of outrage arose from Maxine. She started to rush toward Eddie, but thankfully Douglas grabbed her, held her back.
“No,” Douglas pled with her. “You can’t do anything for Liam, don’t get yourself hurt or killed—”
“Why?” Maxine wailed. “My Henry is gone, and Seamus, and now Liam—soon we’ll all be killed.” Suddenly she grew silent. Then she narrowed her eyes on Eddie, her gaze full of hatred. “You,” she said in a near whisper, “you are nothing more than a monster.”
Marco started to say something, but Eddie held up a hand to silence him as Maxine’s gaze turned to Rosita. “And you as well. A selfish monster. You want to blame everyone for poor Oliver’s death? You should blame yourself.” Her gaze shifted from Rosita to Eddie and back again. “You should blame each other. Your greed. Your selfishness. And your desire for vengeance. All of it has led only to more death. All of it dishonors sweet Oliver’s memory.”
At that, she slumped, as if finally saying her piece had drained her. Douglas let go of her arm, and she started to collapse, but I put my arms around her, and held her gently. She trembled.
For a moment, fury knotted Rosita’s face, and I expected her to demand that Eddie punish Maxine. But then her expression smoothed into a cold calm. That was even more frightening than her fury. It meant she was calculating several moves ahead of where the rest of us were.
Eddie put his gun away.
“Well, how are you going to explain this to Liam’s father?” Marco asked. No pity for the young man. He was disposable, just like Joey had been.
Eddie cleared his throat. “Easy enough. Just before we arrived, a maid who worked for us, Aurelia Escalante, got into a lover’s quarrel with Liam. Turns out she was also Susan Walker, who was distraught after losing her husband. We took her in because she was Rosita’s friend. We had no idea she’d killed her husband, until Maxine and Henry heard Aurelia screaming at poor Liam that she’d killed Pony, and she’d kill him, too. Rosita heard it, too, and finally came out of her room to try to calm Aurelia—poor, brave Rosita. But Aurelia shot and killed Liam—and ran off. They later found a confession and suicide note in her room, which we’ll write up. And they witnessed her swimming out into the lake and drowning.”
I swallowed hard. Death by drowning. Would they shoot me and throw me over, or just leave me in the middle of the lake to struggle until I finally succumbed?
A voice slithered up from the past, through cracks in the wall I usually kept up, cracks made from exhaustion: Drowning is the fate you deserve.
My eyes threatened to well over, my throat to close, as I pushed the voice back.
“And what about Seamus?” Marco asked.
“He tried to stop Aurelia, and she shot him, too. Henry died from the stress. Dr. Aldridge accidentally overdosed.”
“Joey?”
“He fell overboard—tough passage on Lake Erie in this weather.”
Marco lifted his eyebrows and chuckled, no longer upset about his bodyguard being killed. To men like Marco, those he sees as beneath him are interchangeable. Disposable. “You think of everything.”
“Except what about Claire?” Rosita asked. Her expression was still, but I could see in her eyes, in the grim set of her mouth, that she was seething. The expressions, the tics, of the Rosita I had observed so closely in the past, came back to me.
“Oh, poor Claire went overboard with Joey. They were embracing when it happened. I’ll send some men to have her exhumed later and make sure her body does go into the drink. I’ll also have Oliver and your grandparents exhumed, but they’ll be reburied in a Toledo cemetery. Where they should have been buried all along,” Eddie said.
“And the rest of us?” Rosita snapped. “Me? Douglas? Maxine?”
She didn’t even attempt to make an argument for sparing me.
“You’ll all return with me and back up my story,” Eddie said.
“And if we refuse?”
“Douglas won’t. I’m giving him a shot at reestablishing his career. Maxine won’t, because there is one person she cares about—her daughter, Ada. And she knows that I can, and will, make Ada’s life a living hell if need be. Same for Maxine’s sister.”
Maxine pulled her face away from my chest, allowing my arms to stay around her. But she stared at Eddie. Her hatred for him was palpable. But I could also see in her face, and in Douglas’s face, that Eddie was right. They would back up his story.
“And as for you, darling,” Eddie said, giving Rosita a tight, hard smile, “you will comply. Or Cormac will shoot you.” Cormac’s hand moved to his revolver. “Another victim of Aurelia, here. Don’t worry. You won’t go overboard. You’ll be buried next to our son. Or you can confirm the story I’ve created, come back, turn the island over to me, and you’ll get everything you want. Divorce. Enough money to start over. With Douglas in Hollywood if you wish. Or all alone as you seem to prefer.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill her?” Marco asked.
Of course it would. But what Marco didn’t understand was that, in his own way, Eddie still loved Rosita. That no matter what happened, he always would.
Suddenly, Rosita reached into the folds of her dress and whipped out a gun.
For a moment the room stiffened as she pointed her gun at Eddie. Cormac started to pull out his weapon, but Eddie held up a hand to stay him.
“Did you really think,” Rosita said, “that I would not have a gun? That I would not bring one with me when we came to bury our son, that I would not find a hiding spot in the suite I spent every day in for more than a year? That I did not think about using it on myself every day?” She mimicked Marco’s voice. “‘Wouldn’t it be easier to kill her?’ That’s what I thought each day—wouldn’t it be easier to kill myself? But I could not bring myself to do it.” For the first time since she’d arrived accompanying the body of her son for his burial, her voice cracked. “Goddamn it! I want to live!” The words came out as a strangled sound. “I want to go on living in spite of everything—”
“Oh, Rosita,” Eddie said softly, and I knew to him the room and all of us in it had fallen aside. “You can. We can—”
“Not with you!” Rosita barked.
There were only two ways to be free of a man like Eddie—or Pony. The first was to die yourself.
The other way was to kill.
For just a second, I thought, This is it: Rosita will kill Eddie.
Cormac will kill Rosita in revenge.
None of them knew I had a stocking gun in my boot.
I gently let go of Maxine, preparing myself to swoop down, pull out my gun, and be ready, in the aftermath of Eddie and Rosita’s deaths, to take out Cormac and Marco. I knew I had the necessary seconds to do it.
But could I do it? I told myself I could, but I was already trembling at the prospect.
Then Rosita sighed. “Oh, Eddie. Not every desire I have is for you.”
Swiftly, she swung her arm and aimed at Marco. She didn’t even look at him with the first shot, yet hit him square in the chest. He staggered back. His hands rose to his chest as his blood swiftly bloomed on his shirt, his mouth gaping open.
She waited for him to fall before she moved to him, staring down at him. He tried to cry out but the only sound he could emit was a gurgling gasp. He stared up at her.
Rosita hesitated just a second, but not with remorse or shock over what she’d done. She wanted him to see the hate in her eyes.
She held the gun steady, as Maxine cried out—“No, no, child!”—and I knew Maxine was thinking of Rosita’s immortal soul. But Rosita’s hands were steady, as still as the arms of the angel statue overlooking Oliver’s grave, as she pulled the trigger a second time, shooting Marco directly in the face.
In the next moment, Cormac rushed up behind Rosita, grabbed her.
Rosita was so limp in Cormac’s arms that it appeared she had finally taken the revenge she wanted, that she’d now give up. But I knew Rosita better than that. Knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t done. She blamed Eddie and me for Oliver’s death, just as much as she blamed Marco. She was calculating how to take us out, too.
Eddie had gone pale. “What have you done?” The words staggered out in stilted shock.
The corners of Rosita’s mouth quirked up in a mocking smile. “I think it’s obvious,” she said flatly.
Cormac released her, shoved her toward Eddie. He picked up the gun that Rosita had dropped on Marco, wiped it with a handkerchief, pocketed it.
“I needed the money from the sale of the island—” Eddie started.
Rosita shrugged. “Right. Pay off debts to another gangster.”
“Marco’s gang—this will start a war—”
Her smile widened. “Exactly.”
Eddie whirled around to me, Douglas, and Maxine. “You—you saw what happened. We’ll all go back, and you will testify against her. That she was insane. That she killed Marco.” His gaze focused on me. “You can live. Be free.” Then he shifted his focus to Maxine. “You as well. Ada and your sister will be left alone.” Next, to Douglas: “A fresh start for you. You never needed the Sweetheart Cousins before, you won’t need them now, I’ll be sure you’re a star.”
Cormac cleared his throat. “Boss, we can still take her out, you’ll get the island, you can sell it to someone else, and we still have everything in the hold.”
“Fine, kill me,” Rosita said. “But Eddie, you won’t get the island.”
“Yes, it’s in your will—”
“My old will. But after Oliver, before we came here to bury him, I had it changed. Upon my death, the island would go to Claire. I didn’t tell her, of course. She might have been tempted to do away with me. A heaping dose of Veronal in my tea, perhaps,” Rosita said.
“Claire’s dead—”
“It still wouldn’t convey to you, Eddie,” Rosita said. “In case of Claire’s death, it goes to the Sisters of the Poor. Your old orphanage. I’m guessing that not even you would take out the entire staff of the orphanage where you grew up. And are you really going to fight an orphanage for the inheritance that will give them a lovely property to sell—probably to another gangster, but so be it. So, you want me alive so I can at least sell you the island and you can offload it. Maybe to whoever takes over Marco’s gang. Oh, but wait—there’s also the matter of the records that Liam made for me. I’m guessing you still want those.”
Eddie’s eyes narrowed, mistrusting her. Rightfully so.
Rosita laughed bitterly. “You promised me a life of joy and everything I could dream of. I never dreamed of this. Of losing my son.”
“Our son—”
“I will tell you where the records are,” Rosita said. “But only if Aurelia stays here with us.”
Alarm shot through me. I didn’t want to drown, but I was also terrified of staying here. What was she up to?
“Why?”
“After you got here, Liam came up to my suite that night.”
I frowned. Why hadn’t Liam mentioned that in his confession? But Eddie just looked furious with jealousy and wasn’t wondering the same thing.
“I told him to put my red diary with copies of your actual ledger, and the records he’d brought me, locked away in the rolltop desk that was my grandfather’s.”
I nearly gasped at that, but I restrained, not wanting attention.
Yet I knew that there was no key to the rolltop desk. The lock was broken.
“Great,” Eddie sputtered. “We’ll just take an axe to the goddamned desk—”
“Or maybe I told him to lock the books away in one of the cabinets. Or a footlocker. Or in one of the old cabinets up in the lighthouse.” Rosita grinned. She was, even in this dire situation, enjoying taunting Eddie. “By the time you take an axe to everything, Eddie, the Myra might just be frozen in. So it’s better if we retrieve the key. I’m sure once I see the key I’ll remember…”
“Boss, she’s up to something,” Cormac said. “We can force Rosita to tell us where the records are, and off Aurelia on the boat. We need to get out of here before the storm gets worse and we’re stuck here—”
“That’s my point,” Rosita said. “And, Eddie, you know you won’t be able to force me.”
Eddie clenched his jaw, said through gritted teeth, “So what do we have to give you so’s you’ll tell us where the goddamn key is?”
“Leave Aurelia here.”
We all stared at her, shocked. I was not, by then, foolish enough to think she was making a play for saving me from being sent to drown overboard.
“Nope.”
“Then you won’t get the key—unless you want to swim in the lake to get it. I told Liam to put the key in a lockbox, and secure it deep under the lake by the southwest dock.” She gave me a hard, flashing look.
The darkness started to crawl in on the edge of my vision. For a second I couldn’t breathe. I knew that there was no lockbox down there, but that wasn’t what shocked me so.
Was this tale of Rosita’s just a coincidence to the fact I had tied up a lockbox?
Or would I discover that all along, Seamus hadn’t flipped loyalty to Eddie or Marco—but to Rosita.
Oh what a striking, intriguing figure she must have made on the balcony, even under her mourning veil. Had Seamus slowly fallen for her? Gone to her as Liam had? Hadn’t I seen something flash in her eyes—something jealous, something possessive, like the look that she’d just given me—the morning of Eddie’s arrival when she asked about Seamus? And I’d been surprised she’d known his name.
Had Seamus and Rosita been making a plot for escape together all along? Then plans went awry? Had she then double-crossed him, too, setting him up for Cormac to kill?
“All right,” Eddie was growling. “She can stay and dive for us—”
I wanted to scream No! but this at least bought me some time. I had a better chance this way than going on the Myra, even though I had no idea what Rosita was up to.
“Fine,” I said.
“Oh, Aurelia, no—” Maxine started. But I gave a little shake of my head. Douglas put a comforting arm around her.
“Cormac and Douglas, get these two”—Eddie gestured roughly at Liam and Marco—“onto the Myra. I’ll wait here with the women. Cormac, first frisk them to see if there are any more hidden guns.”
I forced myself to look calm, keep breathing. I had the small stocking gun far down in my boot. There was a chance Cormac would miss it. I prayed that he would.
Thanks to the first bit of luck I’d had in years, Cormac found nothing.
He and Douglas went about removing Liam and Marco.
Maxine, Rosita, and I remained silent under Eddie’s glaring eyes, his gun aimed at us.
But then Maxine spoke up. “Eddie, there are some items in my and Henry’s room.” Her voice cracked on her late husband’s name. “Nothing to anyone else, but important to me—a quilt, some photos—”
Eddie shook his head. “Do you think I trust you to go to your room alone? And I’m sure as hell not leaving these two here while I go with you—or shepherding the three of you down.”
My heart broke at the notion of Maxine having to leave behind her family photos, her precious quilt. “Maybe after Cormac and Douglas are done, Cormac could go down with Maxine—”
But again, Eddie shook his head. “Everyone will leave in what they’re wearing, and whatever coat they have already brought up here.”
Maxine started crying softly. Rosita moved toward her. Eddie tensed.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Rosita said. “I’m just giving her a hug. Is that all right?”
Eddie’s stance softened, and he gave a curt nod of his head.
Rosita hurried over to Maxine and embraced her. She whispered something in Maxine’s ear. As she let Maxine go, the older woman’s expression was stricken, but Eddie didn’t notice.
Soon, Cormac and Douglas returned.
“Now, take Maxine onto the Myra,” Eddie said. “Wait for me.”
Maxine looked at me, wide-eyed, and Douglas looked alarmed.
Me. Eddie intended for Rosita to take him to the records, for me to get the treasure for him. And then he’d kill both of us. Or he’d kill only me. I did not believe he could bring himself to kill Rosita under any circumstances.
Douglas and Maxine left, with Cormac right behind them, ready—and probably eager—to shoot at the least provocation.
That left just Eddie and Rosita and me in the library.