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“What do you want?” I demanded as the car careened around a corner, throwing me against what felt like a wall. There was no answer, and I lifted the hood. It was pitch black, and I could hear things rattling in the dark. I must be in the back of a delivery van.
At last the van stopped, the engine shut off, and the door slammed. Footsteps crunched in gravel as someone walked around the van and unlocked the back doors. I felt around blindly for something to use as a weapon, but it was too late. The doors swung open, and bright light blinded me.
“Get out,” a snarly, masculine voice ordered. “I’ve got a gun, so you better do as I say.”
Not wishing to be shot dead, I carefully crawled out of the van and onto an empty gravel lot. As my eyes adjusted, I realized who my captor was.
“Archie. What the devil are you doing?”
Kitty’s former boyfriend didn’t answer. Instead he gestured toward a dilapidated garage with his weapon. “Inside.”
I didn’t want to go inside, but I didn’t see any alternative, so I stumbled along, trying to come up with a clever escape plan. Unfortunately, before I could drum up anything, he had me tied to a chair.
“Archie, this is madness. You must let me go.”
“Shut up!” Once he had me tied up, he walked away, disappearing into another room.
The minute he was out of sight, I did two things simultaneously: I took stock of my surroundings and tried to loosen my bonds. The first was easy enough, the second, not so much.
The garage was about as expected: concrete floor stained with motor oil, random chains hanging from the rafters, loads of dust and cobwebs everywhere. It was a defunct version of the garage where I’d first met him. How would anyone ever find me here?
They wouldn’t. I’d just have to take care of this myself.
He’d tied me up good and tight, but there was something he hadn’t counted on: my reading proclivities. Aunt Butty had lent me the latest novel by Dexter Dodge—the same one in which she’d read about hidden safes. In it, the detective had been kidnapped by gangsters. While being tied up, he’d kept his muscles contracted so that while the kidnappers thought the bonds were tight, once he’d relaxed, there’d been some slackness in the ropes. So I’d done the same thing. And it had worked!
The ropes he’d tied me with were just loose enough I could move a bit. And, feeling around, I realized the chair on which he’d tied me had a metal frame that was rusty and rough. Just the thing. I began working away at the ropes.
Then Archie returned with a bottle of beer of all things and began pacing and muttering to himself. I’d a terrible feeling he was gearing up for something dastardly. There was nothing for it. I must distract him!
“Listen, Archie, nothing could be that bad. Surely, if you explain, everyone will understand.”
He turned on me. “No! They won’t. They’ll hang me for sure.”
“But why?” I said, playing dumb. “You’re a good man. Whatever you’ve done, you’ve done for good reason, I’m certain of it.”
“You don’t know what I’ve done!”
“You killed Kitty,” I said, proud of how calm I sounded, and also wondering if I’d made a mistake confronting him in this way.
He stared at me before taking a long swallow of beer. “How’d you know?”
“There was grease on the hatpin,” I said simply, still working at my bonds. “Dark grease. I remember it was all over your hands when I visited your establishment.”
He let out a string of expletives. “I knew I’d never get away with it.”
“So why’d you kidnap me?” The ropes were very loose now.
He scrubbed a grease-stained hand through his hair. “I dunno. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Yes, I can see how you might think that. But really, I do believe that it would make more sense to get out of London as quickly as possible.” I wriggled a hand free. “You’re a good man, Archie, anyone would understand how she drove you to it. It was her fault really.”
“The coppers’ll never believe it.”
“But of course they will. I’ll tell them. And you know they’ll listen to me.” Bald-faced lie, but anything to keep Archie distracted.
“You’d talk to them for me?”
“Of course. I know the lead detective on the case. We’ve spoken on numerous occasions.” Never mind that he’d be more likely to throw me in jail than to listen to anything I had to say. My second hand was nearly free. “Listen, my throat is really dry. Could you get me something to drink?”
He grunted and disappeared into the same room as before. I yanked my hands free and the rope dropped to the floor. It was quick work to undo my ankles. I searched around for a weapon as I heard his footsteps approaching. The only thing I found was a rusty wrench.
Snagging it off a workbench, I dashed to the side of the open doorway and lifted it. As Archie stepped through, I brought it down on his head. He dropped to the floor in a heap, two open beer bottles crashing to splinters. Beer sprayed everywhere, including on me.
The doors crashed open, light streamed in, and male voices shouted, “Police! Drop your weapon!”
The wrench hit the floor and I reached for the sky.