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“WAIT,” I SAID, STARING at the intruder. I was standing in the study right next to the fireplace where Portia had found August Nixon’s body. “You’re not Mary.” It was definitely not a woman standing in the dark. A shiver went through me. The dark figure moved into the light, and I recognized him immediately. “Roger? What are you doing here?”
“You thought Mary killed August?” He snorted in derision. “She would never lower herself to such a thing.”
I frowned. This wasn’t what I’d expected. “So she got you to do it instead?” I didn’t see how that was possible, since he had an alibi. One I’d confirmed myself.
“She had nothing to do with it.” He sounded affronted. As if I’d majorly insulted him. Weird.
“Um, okay. But everything points to her.”
He sighed. “I know. Lack of alibi. You were clever to discover that.”
“That’s me. Very clever.” I gave a nervous laugh. Would you just shut up?
“It was nothing, really. All innocent and aboveboard. She was having a little Botox. Nothing extravagant, but she’s a vain woman, as most of you are.”
“Excuse me?”
He ignored my outrage. “She didn’t want anyone to know about her little procedure. So silly. She got her friends to lie for her. Ridiculous. If she’d just told the truth, we could have avoided all of this nonsense.”
“You killed August? But you have an alibi,” I blurted. “I confirmed it with Mariposa. So did the police.”
“Alibis. You know, they are so very easy to manufacture. It was easy enough to drop a little something in her drink. She literally never realized.” He chuckled to himself.
“So, you slipped away, killed August, and slipped back. No one the wiser.”
“Pretty much it, in a nutshell.” He seemed proud, like he’d done something heroic.
“You killed August because he was going to frame you for the thefts.”
“One of so many reasons,” he said. “The man was a louse.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said dryly. “But what about Annabelle? Why did you kill her?”
He heaved a sigh. “I didn’t want to. She was a sweet girl with a sick little boy, but what could I do once she started blackmailing me?”
“She saw you kill August.”
“Apparently. She demanded money. It was to help her boy, of course, but I couldn’t have it. I just couldn’t.”
My armpits were damp, and I could feel my heart thumping in my chest like a bass drum. “Why are you admitting this to me? Why aren’t you telling this to the police?”
“Because I have no intention of turning myself in.” As he spoke, he moved a little closer, and I realized he was gripping something in his right hand. It was an extremely sharp, extremely large knife. He’d apparently graduated from blunt objects. “You can’t prove any of this. The police already put Portia away. They’re not looking for anyone else.”
I didn’t bother pointing out that they were definitely looking for Annabelle’s killer and Portia couldn’t have done it. “You’re just going to let her rot in prison for something you did?”
“I have no choice. Mary and I are about to start our lives together. I can’t let anything get in the way of that.”
“But she broke up with you. You said so yourself.”
“What can I say? I lied. I needed to protect her. Silly woman thought being truthful was the way to go. I understand, of course, but she doesn’t realize the lengths I would go to protect her.”
“You mean August.”
“He didn’t just want to frame me, he wanted to destroy her, too. He learned about the affair, you see. Can you imagine what a man like that could do to a woman who’d betrayed him?”
I could. Everything up to and including murder. “I get it. I do. Still, you killed him in cold blood.”
“It wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I had no choice. And, like I said, you can blab all you want, but you can’t prove it. I have an alibi, remember? And Portia’s fingerprints are all over the murder weapon.”
“How did you manage that, by the way?” I couldn’t believe I’d gotten this far in the conversation, that he was actually answering me. Then again, he was crazy. Obviously crazy.
He laughed. “That was easy. I wiped it down. When she found the body, the idiot picked up the weapon. Stupid girl. Doesn’t she watch TV?”
So that hadn’t been part of his master plan. Just a stroke of luck. And either Portia hadn’t remembered touching the weapon in her shock, or she’d lied because she hoped they wouldn’t find her prints. I was betting on the former, since Portia was anything but stupid.
“What about the note.” I should have shut my mouth and got out of there, but I had to know.
He blinked at me through the thick lenses of his glasses, totally confused. “Note? Oh, you mean the one I left for you on your car. Stroke of genius, though you were too stupid to heed my warning.”
“So, it was you. But I didn’t see you anywhere.”
He actually giggled. “I drove by my house and saw you poking around, so I parked down the hill and walked back. It was just a warning. I didn’t want to hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.” He glared at me. “Unfortunately, you really can’t take a hint. I’m sorry about bashing your head, by the way.”
“Right. You didn’t want to.”
“Exactly. I needed to get that journal in case August doctored it in his attempt to frame me.”
“I totally understand. I guess you’re right. I can’t prove anything, so I’ll be going now.” I tried to skirt around him, but he grabbed my arm in a bruising grip.
“What is that?” he snarled, looking down.
“What?” I tried to act innocent, but I was shaking as he snatched my phone from my hand.
“You recorded me?” he screamed, spittle flying everywhere. He threw my phone against the wall, smashing it to bits. “Now I have to kill you, you stupid girl.”
“Wait!” But it was too late. He lifted the knife and swung it toward my heart. I barely managed to dodge out of the way, ripping my arm from his grip in the nick of time.
Without a backward glance, I ran like crazy for the study door. I could hear Roger breathing heavily behind me as he chased me. In the dark hall, I could barely make out anything. I tripped over an edge of carpet and went sprawling on my face. He was on me in a moment.
I rolled just in time to avoid a knife in the eyeball as the blade sliced down next to my head and buried itself in the floorboards. I kicked out, connecting solidly as he let out a grunt and staggered backward. I scrambled to my feet and was off running again.
Upstairs were several displays cordoned off by ropes. If I could get there, I could knock him down and tie him up. Then call the police. As plans went, it wasn’t a great one, but it was all I had.
I took the stairs two at a time, my breath coming in short pants. Roger was hot on my heels, his feet thumping heavily on the steps.
I dashed into the room and snagged the nearest object. It was a large, porcelain vase. The idea of destroying it made me sick, but there was no other choice. The minute Roger rounded the corner, I bashed him over the head. The vase exploded, shooting shards across the room. He went down like a sack of potatoes. I kicked his knife away and untied a length of rope from across a nearby doorway.
Perching on top him, I yanked both of his arms behind him and tied them as tightly as I could. I was in the process of searching his pockets for a phone when the front door of the mansion flew open and shouts of “Astoria PD” echoed through the old house. Booted feet tromped up the steps, and a bright light pierced my vision.
“Viola?”
“Hey, Detective. Got your murderer all trussed up and ready to go. Also, I think you owe me an apology.”