At first, I felt relieved. Finally, someone would save us from this homicidal hag. Then I saw Pruett’s face. Yael hadn’t bothered him much, but clearly the situation had changed. Both of us had made a mistake that might well cost us our lives.
“Give me that before you shoot yourself,” Roar said, grabbing the gun from Yael’s hand. “We’ve got ourselves a real situation here.” He turned toward Pruett and me and shook his head. “Sorry it came to this. I’ve gotten to really like you two.” He pointed his gun toward me as he threw Pruett his handcuffs. “Help me out, Pruett. Truss her up good and tight. Then it’ll be your turn.”
He used plastic ties, or flex cuff restraints, as the purists call them. They were more comfortable than metal cuffs, but that was no relief to someone awaiting death. Roar restrained Pruett himself, an action I considered somewhat sexist but largely irrelevant under the circumstances. He pushed us down on the sofa and poured himself a flute of champagne.
“Sorry I can’t serve you,” he said. Funny. Those dreamy eyes held the same twinkle they had in happier moments.
“Stop wasting time,” Yael growled. “Get rid of them.”
He didn’t like that. Roar pressed his lips into a tight line and ignored her. “I guess you have some questions, don’t you? Too bad that article won’t get finished, Wing. I was looking forward to reading it.”
“Why?” I asked. “Was it all about the money—or something else?”
For once, Pruett had no questions. He locked eyes with Roar as if he already knew the answers.
“Sorry, Perri,” Roar said. “I could invent some high-flying excuses, but I have none.” He swallowed his drink and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Truth. The oldest motive in the world is money. Filthy lucre. I plead guilty to coveting it.” He crossed those long legs and leaned his head back on the chair. “Never have enough of it. Not on a cop’s salary, so I got a second job.”
Finally, Pruett spoke. “How much does a hit job pay these days, Roar?”
The response was matter of fact. “Mrs. Lindsay here paid one hundred grand. Oh, she was cagey about it. Set up a dummy corporation, all nice and legal.” He smiled once more. “Course I took a loss on Bethany. Had to do that one for free.”
“Cost of doing business, I guess.” Pruett’s reaction was tinged with bitterness and a bit of sadness. His affection for Roar had been real.
Now I knew where that cashmere sweater and Roar’s other toys came from. Blood money. “Why kill Bethany? She was harmless enough.” Maybe if we kept him talking, some miracle would occur.
“Bethany, sweet sexy Bethany. Unfortunately, she saw me do Lee that night. What were the chances? Anyway, she wanted more than I could pay.”
“Asked for money, did she?” Pruett almost seemed to enjoy the exchange.
“Hell no. The dumb broad wanted to marry me. Can you believe it? I couldn’t let that happen. She would have stuck to me forever.”
Yael’s store of patience had been exhausted. Her voice rose to screech level. “Stop this chatter and finish them off. Use the service elevator if you have to, but get rid of them.”
“No problem.” Roar drew his own gun and attached a silencer on it. The correct term was noise suppressor, but why quibble when it’s pointed your way. “Nope. Too risky. I got a better idea.” He turned to Yael and shot a neat hole in the middle of her forehead. The pop of the silencer sounded more like the slamming of a door than a gunshot. Nobody noticed.
“Never did like that bitch,” he said. “She and Lee deserved each other.”
As a thin stream of blood trickled down Yael’s face, both Pruett and I gasped. Would we be next? I surmised that Roar would arrange the three-way murder scenario to account for our bodies, with Yael shooting both of us before being slain herself. It was tricky unless you were the cop who arrived first on the scene. Easy to manipulate evidence that way and account for your presence. Besides, Pruett had called Roar and left a message, asking for his help. So had Yael. Reputable witnesses like Babette, Rafa, and Alf would attest to our presence in Yael’s suite and our belief that she was a double murderer. Neat and tidy, just like Sergeant Roar Jansen, the friendly local cop. He might even pin the blame on Genna, if the need arose. That gave me inspiration.
“Was Genna part of this?” I asked.
He scoffed. “Hardly. Despite your brilliant detective work, you got her wrong. Genna is a straight arrow. Every so-called clue you found pointed to me as much as Genna, but you were blinded by prejudice. I knew every corner and crevice of the Big E.”
“Made things easy for you, I bet.” Pruett kept his cool, although I knew he had to be thinking of Ella and worrying.
Roar enjoyed boasting. I’d never seen that massive ego of his unleashed before, but it was on full display now. He was right—prejudice had blinded me to the evil behind a handsome face and great body. My bad, as they say.
“I grabbed those shears of Rafa’s first thing,” Roar said. “Just in case I needed to set him up as a fall guy. Holmes was too busy bragging to even sense the danger.” Another chuckle from the lying lips of Roar Jansen. “Take it from me, Perri, that German steel is top notch. It did the job with no problems whatsoever.”
I managed a smile. “Good to know. I’ll be sure to stock more of them.”
He wagged his finger at me. “Good one. Always did like a sassy woman. Too bad inventory won’t concern you anymore.”
Pruett flexed his knees, a move that caught Roar’s attention. “Cramps.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t suffer for long.” Roar checked his watch. “I’m waiting for the band downstairs to start. Things get noisy up here then. Easy to mask any sounds.” He pointed to the sagging corpse of his employer. “She bitched nonstop about it. She bitched about everything and everyone. Quite the princess, that one.”
In death, Yael looked anything but regal. Corpses seldom do. I resisted picturing Pruett and me in the same pose. Ghoulish and unproductive. Better to devise a plan—any plan—that might save us from that fate. Pruett locked eyes with me, infusing me with his strength and, yes, love. I resolved to gamble on Roar’s need to brag. Shrinks called it grandiosity, an unrealistic sense of superiority.
“I was fooled by your looks,” I said. “Most women would be, even Genna.”
That appealed to Roar the narcissist. He snickered and nodded. “I figured that. If he hadn’t been around”—he pointed to Pruett—“we might have made sweet music. Too bad.”
Pruett joined the game. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Surely, you didn’t—I mean Genna?”
“Nah. I have my standards. Besides I didn’t need to. She adored me from the start. Probably one of the reasons she hated Ms. Perri here.”
“But she hounded us,” I said. “Genna did everything she could to annoy us.”
Roar pointed my way. “Yeah. That was funny. She was trying to protect me. Trying to throw you off the scent.”
“So she did know you murdered them.” Pruett whistled. “Wow. No wonder she planted that tie and framed Roy Vesco.”
Our conversation was surreal, so banal that it made my head spin.
“She never planted evidence or did anything wrong.” Roar seemed angered by slurs on his partner’s integrity. “I told you about that tie and you believed me. The tie business was one of Yael’s little touches. A mistake. I knew it immediately when you found that Facebook footage.” He sighed. “Oh well. Next time I’ll be more cautious.”
Next time! “So you plan to continue your side job?” I asked.
“Sure. Word gets out when your work is good. Don’t worry. I have plenty of customers lined up.”
To my dismay, the band started an initial tune-up. Roar was right. The volume was already high. When the music reached its zenith, the noise would be deafening. More than enough to disguise the pop, pop of a silenced Glock.
“Showtime, gang,” Roar said. “Let’s see. Stay seated. That way I’ll pretend that Yael shot you where you sat.”
“How do you explain that?” Pruett asked pointing to Yael’s body.
“Easily. I responded to your call, got here just a bit too late, and downed the murderer.” He walked over to the door, making sure it was ajar. When it came to scene setting, the man was a genius. Nothing left to chance.
“Ladies first,” Roar said, pointing the Glock at me. I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain as that steel projectile penetrated my body. The shot sounded louder than I expected, yet I felt nothing. I opened my eyes and saw the reason.
Genna Watts, gun in hand, burst through the open door and shot her partner. Tears streamed down her face and her hair stuck out in tufts. Never had a woman looked so beautiful.