When no one answered their summons at the funeral home’s main entrance, Marla twisted the doorknob. It opened easily, and she slipped inside, with David at her heels. They faced an empty corridor, eerily silent. The lights were burning, and she sniffed the faint scent of men’s cologne.
“Where is Stefano?” she whispered, hairs prickling on the nape of her neck.
“Barletti!” David yelled. “Where the hell are you?”
“His office is upstairs. Maybe he’s waiting for me up there.” Being in a funeral home at night gave her the willies. She wasn’t eager to go exploring, visions of the living dead entering her consciousness. I never did like horror movies.
“Why don’t you wait here? I’ll look for him.” David set his mouth in a grim line.
“Good idea.” Remaining near the front door seemed a wise option. From somewhere ahead, metal clanged against a hard surface. “What’s that?” Her heart rate accelerated.
“I’ll check. Do you know what’s beyond this corridor?”
She moistened her lips. “There are chapels on each side, plus an elevator and another set of doors. I’m not sure where they lead.” She didn’t necessarily want to find out, either. Why take risky chances? A shnook, she wasn’t.
Watching David scout the hallway made her restless. If Stefano was lurking somewhere in the back, then it should be safe for her to go upstairs and search the man’s office, right? Vail had claimed he needed proof. Now was her chance to get it for him. Besides, why let David have all the fun?
Her handbag strapped diagonally across her chest, she moved forward, glad she’d had the foresight to wear sturdy walking shoes. Too bad she hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella from the car to use as a defensive weapon.
The elevator rose slowly, creaking as though announcing her presence to the world. Would the lights be on upstairs if no one was in the office? Momentary panic assailed her at the notion of being left in the dark, but when the door slid open, overhead lights lit the spacious reception area.
Her pulse racing, she stepped onto the carpeted floor and glanced around. Except for a small kitchen off to the left, mostly closed doors met her gaze. She couldn’t remember which one Stefano had entered for their conference. They hadn’t gone past the kitchen, so his office must be in that corridor straight ahead. Those looked like larger spaces anyway, more suitable for the owner and his administrative staff.
She hesitated as an attack of nerves gripped her. Was she doing the right thing? Should she go back downstairs and wait for David?
A crashing noise sounded from below. Heavy footfalls followed, accompanied by male curses and loud thuds that brought forth unpleasant images.
Now, girl. Stefano is occupied. Without stopping to consider how she’d escape if David’s safety were compromised, she dashed across the reception area. To her right was a half-opened door to a darkened office. Wiping sweaty palms on her pants, she took a deep, steadying breath. Dalton needed evidence, and Cynthia was relying on her. If she hoped to put Stefano away and end the threat to Ocean Guard, she must get proof of the funeral director’s misdeeds.
Mustering her courage, Marla pushed open the door. Yawning blackness met her gaze. Her scalp prickled as she sensed another presence. Oh, God. She’d forgotten about Shark.
She fumbled for a light switch.
A hand clamped over hers, pinning her in place.
As she gasped in shock, something noxious sprayed her face just when she was inhaling. Her senses reeling, she sank to the floor.
****
She swam in a black void, a whirlpool sucking her into its depths. Struggling valiantly, she kicked toward the surface, her lungs burning until they would burst. She couldn’t take in a breath. Panic seized her when little Tammy floated by, her limp body pitching with the current. Marla tried to shove away the bloated corpse, but her leaden arms wouldn’t move. If she didn’t breathe soon, she’d die.
Twisting to her side, she felt something solid block her shoulder. Not hard. It had a soft feel, almost like a cushion.
Her eyes snapped open. As she drew in a labored breath, dry cloth stuck in her throat. She coughed, choking, her nostrils flaring. Air. It was possible to breathe through her nose. Carefully, she experimented, inhaling and trying to keep her throat closed to whatever covered her mouth.
Fearful that she might gag and choke on her vomit, she concentrated on assessing her surroundings. At first, her vision seemed blurry, but then she realized she couldn’t see because it was dark. She was bound at the wrists, hands in front.
Rolling onto her back, she ventured out a foot. An obstruction limited her efforts. Outlines became palpable until she realized with horror where she was lying.
Inside a casket. Lined, no doubt, with one of the less-expensive crepe interiors.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced herself to wonder what had happened to David that he hadn’t found her by now and freed her. Was it Shark who had attacked her, or had he been waiting below to waylay David? Supposedly, she’d been coming alone. Stefano must have been making sure she wouldn’t escape. Now she was trapped here, bound and gagged, lying in a coffin, although it appeared the lid was open. She’d reached up and met empty space.
Was this to be her final resting place?
Desperate cries emerged from her throat as she struggled to sit up. She realized her purse was still strapped on her shoulder. No evidence of her arrival would be left behind. What would they do with her car?
Her grunts must have caught someone’s attention, because she heard heavy footsteps approaching. Uh-oh. Should I play dead? Whoops, I mean unconscious.
She blinked, her eyes still stinging from the substance used to gas her. Stefano might seal the lid, and she wanted to get in a last accusing stare if nothing else.
Bright lights clicked on, and she squinted instantly.
“So, my dear, you’ve decided to stay for a while.” Stefano chuckled. “Didn’t I tell you to buy your funeral arrangements in advance?”
Muffled noises came from her attempt to speak. He stepped into her visual field, his narrow face looming overhead. Bulging dark eyes gloated at her helpless struggles.
“Allow me to make you more comfortable.” Grinning, he untied the cloth from her mouth. With his winged eyebrows and hollow cheeks, he looked like a Halloween death’s-head. “Is that better?” he asked when she drew in a shaky breath.
Her throat felt like sandpaper, but at least her air passages were clear.
“Why do you care?” she rasped, pushing up on her elbows. “Aren’t you planning to leave me in here permanently?”
He appeared horror-stricken. “Oh, no. You have a misconception. I only need to get you out of the way for a while. My inheritance, you know. Once I get Popeye’s estate, I’ll be home free. I already have a buyer for his property.”
“You’re going to sell the mangrove preserve?” While she was talking, she glanced around. Other coffins, lids raised, cluttered the room on display stands. Even if she were to somehow tumble over the edge of this casket and land on the floor, what then?
“The transfer papers are prepared. After signing, I’ll cash in the money from the sale of Popeye’s preserve and his estate, and I’ll go on the long vacation I’ve always dreamed about.” Folding his hands behind his back, he paced the room, seemingly eager to reveal his plans. “You’re so smart. Did you figure out how I’m related to the old bugger?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Testing her bonds, she noted with dismay that the duct tape tightened with her movements, making painful grooves on her wrists. Inspiration hit, but she had to guard her expression. Inside her purse were the shears she’d stashed to cut Annie’s hair.
Stefano smirked. “Popeye was my uncle. His sister married into the Barletti family, much to the dismay of her snooty parents. Mother never ceased to remind me how much they’d hurt her and how she deserved better. When they didn’t come to her funeral, I vowed to get what was due me. I should have been Popeye’s direct heir, not Ocean Guard. I’m only taking what’s rightfully mine.”
“What about Shark? The rest of your family?”
“I’ll leave enough money for them to bail out the funeral homes, which Shark will manage. They’ll be okay. I’m tired of all this fuss and bother. It’s time to live the rest of my life as I please.”
No wonder Shark shirked responsibility. Look at his dad’s example. “So you want me out of your way until Popeye’s property passes to you, because after that it won’t matter what I know?”
His expression darkened, and he jabbed a finger at her. “You’ve been a nuisance. I told Shark to keep track of your movements. When he learned you were going to Nassau, I sent someone to the Bahamas after you, but the idiot didn’t succeed in getting you out of the way. I had to think of something more drastic. Obviously, you weren’t upset by that warning Shark left on your doorstep. Then you showed up on Thanksgiving night when I was making a dump. Oh, you’re so clever. How did you figure the medical waste was coming from a funeral home?”
Marla dragged her handbag onto her stomach. “I asked Cynthia to take photos, then I showed them to a man at the biomedical waste disposal company. He said bloody clothes often came from funeral homes.”
Stefano bared his teeth in an evil grin. “I thought I had you then, that night in the water, but you still escaped.”
“What are you going to do with me now?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll put a breathing apparatus in the casket so you won’t suffocate. Then I’ll ship you up north. I have friends who will watch over you until this is over.”
Dear Lord. He plans to seal me in this thing, alive. Nausea churned her stomach at the thought of the lid closing over her. Desperate to keep him talking until she could think of a plan, she went on: “What about Cynthia and Bruce? They’ve discovered your identity. They’ll tell the authorities what you’ve done. You’re responsible for the incidents with the chefs, aren’t you?”
“I figured I might throw the fund-raiser off track. I’m sure your cousins will keep silent if I promise to produce you unharmed after I inherit the property. Otherwise, I can always take Annie for leverage. Stupid, gullible girl. She hangs onto Shark like he’s the only man who will ever have eyes for her.”
Please, no. Leave Annie out of this.
“Why did you trash my house? Was that another attempt to scare me, so I’d resign from my position with Taste of the World? Did you really think my absence would crash the fund-raiser?”
A puzzled frown creased his forehead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Didn’t you send Shark to break into my place?” When he shook his head, she considered another possibility. “Well, maybe it was that other goon who followed David and me to Nassau. You know, the same one who broke into Morton Riley’s house and killed him. I presume that same guy tried to shoot me at Crystal Cay on your orders.”
“I’d heard Morton Riley was dead.” He cocked his head, a glazed look in his eyes. “Same as Ben. Murdered.”
“Ben knew your name was on the trust agreement, didn’t he? Is that why you killed him, and later Morton Riley?”
“No, you don’t understand. It wasn’t—”
David lurched into the casket room. Taking in the situation at a glance, he launched himself at Stefano.
“Bastard!” David punched Stefano straight in the midsection. Stefano doubled over, clutching his stomach.
“David, thank goodness,” Marla cried. “Get me out of here!” She glanced fearfully at the open doorway. “Where’s Shark?”
“I beaned him with a lamp. Not as effective as a Samoan fire knife, but it’ll keep him out of the way while I deal with his father.” Growling, David gave Stefano a vicious chop on the neck. The shorter man hit the ground.
Still conscious, Stefano yanked David’s ankles, throwing him off balance. As David went down, Marla shrieked in terror. He was her only hope!
No, he wasn’t. Prying open her purse, she turned it upside-down so the contents spilled onto her lap. She’d never had the chance to use the shears on Annie’s hair. With infinite difficulty, she managed to turn them inward and cut the tape restraining her wrists. Two hundred and fifty dollars was a lot to pay for a pair of scissors, but they proved their mettle... er, metal.
Once freed, she crawled out of the casket. A white paper caught her eye that must have fallen from her purse. While the two men grunted and fought in a deadly struggle, curiosity compelled her to pick it up. David had asked her a few times about Mustafa’s phone number scrawled across this envelope. Was that really what interested him?
Come to think of it, how had David found out about the Samoan fire knife? Babs knew about it, too. Maybe a news report had described the murder weapon.
Oh, my God. What had David meant when he said the lamp wasn’t as effective as a Samoan fire knife in clunking Shark on the head?
Springing to his feet, David dragged Stefano up by the collar and socked him on the jaw. Marla was barely aware of the punches David rained on his opponent. Instead of being relieved that he’d gained the upper hand, she felt a chill of foreboding.
Withdrawing a letter from inside the envelope, she unfolded it and scanned the contents. It was from the group to whom Ocean Guard was obligated every year to give a donation under the terms of Popeye’s trust. Addressed to Morton Riley, it claimed the contribution had not been made for the past three years. The responsibility for sending in the money was that of Ocean Guard’s accountant, David Newberg.
Apparently, Riley had sent this letter on to Ben Kline, expecting the attorney who was on Ocean Guard’s Board of Directors to deal with the matter. When had Ben accused David of stealing the money, before or after the meeting she’d attended with Cynthia? She imagined that had it been before, Ben might have brought up the subject in front of the other board members. Instead, he’d absentmindedly passed the envelope along to her after scribbling Mustafa’s name on top. It would have been easy for David to notice the return address.
Marla glanced up to see David’s eyes resting on her. Stefano lay limp on the floor.
“I didn’t mean to kill Ben,” David said quietly, a strange light in his eyes. “When he accused me of stealing sixty thousand dollars from Ocean Guard, I couldn’t help myself. He wouldn’t listen.”
As she backed away, edging up against another coffin, David stepped closer. Feeling like a trapped animal, Marla glanced at the door. Unfortunately, David’s massive body blocked the exit. His face had an oddly detached expression as he regarded her.
“Before you showed up at our board meeting, Ben said he was meeting with Riley that afternoon about an irregularity in Ocean Guard’s records. Ben called me later and asked if we could meet. I made an appointment with him at seven o’clock. No one else was at his office since it was after hours.”
Plowing his hand through his hair, David grimaced. “He accused me of stealing the money. I told Ben I knew nothing about it, but he didn’t believe me. No one accuses me of dishonesty, Marla. You know that from our brief acquaintance. Honor means a lot to me. I got angry when Ben wouldn’t listen and figured I’d knock some sense into him. There was this weapon on the wall, and I grabbed it. I only meant to threaten him, but he fought against me. I cracked the fire knife against his skull. It’s pretty heavy, you know, with a dull edge. Ben crumpled immediately.”
Was David saying he wasn’t a thief, but he was a murderer? Sliding sideways, Marla advanced toward the door, but he grasped her arm.
“Listen,” he ordered, squeezing. She clamped her lips, squelching a whimper of pain. Maybe she could appeal to his affection for her. Or maybe she should keep him talking. Her ears picked up faint sounds from below. Shark might have revived. Better the devil you know than the one you don’t, she thought frantically, praying the younger man would race upstairs to help his father.
“I cleaned things up and got out of there fast,” David continued. “I bought a movie ticket for a show that had already started, so it appeared as though I’d been in the theater for a while. Later, I realized my secretary pretended to mail the donation every year. She diverted the funds so it looked as though I had stolen the money and then skipped town before I could confront her. I figured Popeye’s heir had paid her to betray me.”
“You didn’t take the money. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I sent the proper funds right away to the organization to fulfill the terms of the trust, but I was afraid Riley would still believe I was guilty.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You killed him!”
He bared his teeth in a nasty grin. “It was easy to run downtown while you were relaxing in your room. I hoped to convince you to let me deal with the trustee, but you were so damned persistent. Then I feared that you wouldn’t believe me, either, if you read that letter.”
“Of course I would... I do. You’re an honest man, David. Please let go of my arm.”
His eyes glazed. “My father accused me of stealing. He’d always favored my younger brother. I thought Dean had taken the hundred dollars but found out it was my mother. She’d been putting away money for her retirement because Dad couldn’t save anything. She’d told Dean, and both of them were afraid to confess the truth. So I took the blame. Dad never had any respect for me after that.”
“Is this why you became an accountant? To prove you could handle people’s money and be trusted?”
He looked at her in an odd manner that chilled her blood. “You trusted me, didn’t you? I became friendly with you to get that letter back before you read it. I searched your house, but the envelope wasn’t there. Now you know what it says, and I can’t have you telling anyone else. It impinges upon my honor. Besides, you know too much. It’s a shame, because you and I could’ve been a number.”
“We still can, David. I thought you liked me. We can go away together.” She tried to give a coaxing smile, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate. Ice sluiced through her veins. Steeling herself for action, she placed one foot forward at a slight angle.
“Shut up, liar. You’re too friendly with that cop not to tell him the truth.” He lunged forward, grabbing her by the shoulders. Marla shrieked and brought her hand up to scratch his face. He swept a leg behind her ankles to trip her. When she buckled, he tossed her like a sack of flour into the open coffin.
“Good-bye, darling. Stefano had the right idea for you, except I’ll do it without the breathing apparatus. Looks like you’ll save on the cost of a funeral, after all.”
“No, don’t do it. Please.”
He’d gripped the rim when Shark staggered into the room. Congealed blood coated his cheek. David, spying this new threat, crashed down the lid.
Blackness engulfed her. “Help!” she screamed, pounding on the solid top. How long before she’d suffocate in here without oxygen? Her fingers pushed at the heavy lid, but it wouldn’t budge. Either she wasn’t strong enough, or David had locked it somehow.
A heavy weight crashed against her casket. David must be fighting Shark. This gave her an idea. Maybe she could roll her body against the side until the thing toppled over. The lid might fall open when it hit the floor. But try as she might, she could barely turn sideways, let alone make an impact.
Despair threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to give up. Her breathing, already rapid, grew more labored. Her sweaty fingers tried to find a hold on the lid and slipped.
Wait, what’s that cold object against my leg?
The metal shears!
Grasping the tool by its blades, she banged the handle against the solid surface. “Help, let me out!”
The lid was flung open and bright lights flooded her.
Cynthia gazed down at her in shock. “Marla, what are you doing there? And why is Stefano lying on the ground?”
Marla climbed over the edge and landed with shaky legs on the carpeted floor. “He was knocked out. Where are Shark and David?”
“David? I came here to see Stefano, but it looks like you already dealt with him. What happened?”
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s get out of here.”
Grabbing Cynthia by the elbow, she hustled her elegantly clad cousin into the hallway and around a corner past the kitchen. “There has to be a staircase somewhere,” she said, glancing down the corridor lined with closed doors. A crash sounded from below, startling her. “David must be fighting Shark downstairs. We can reach the front door while they’re both occupied.”
Opening one door after another, Marla sought the stairs in vain. It was only after they’d passed Stefano’s office that she found an exit.
Never mind looking for evidence. Saving their lives was more important.
They emerged onto the first landing and were nearly bowled over by Shark barreling into David. Both men were bruised and bleeding, and they ignored the women. Seeing that the way to the front was blocked and the side entrance was out of range, Marla urged her cousin to retreat.
They entered a laboratory at the rear of the funeral home. Metal instruments glistened on sterile countertops, while several examining tables took up space in the middle of the room.
Cynthia stumbled after her. “Will you tell me what’s going on? I came here to ask Stefano to call off Shark after learning that he is Popeye’s heir. Now that the game is over, he’ll have to quit polluting the preserve, and I don’t want his son bothering my daughter. But what are you doing here?”
“I meant to confront Stefano, also.” Marla wheeled on her cousin, eyes blazing. “David invited himself along. He’s the one who killed Ben Kline and Morton Riley.”
“Who? Stefano?”
“No, David. Quick, we don’t have much time.” Curses mixed with loud thuds from outside in the corridor. Marla couldn’t guess who would win the battle, but it didn’t matter. They needed an escape route regardless of the outcome. Her glance scanned the lab and rested on a steel door at the far end.
She scooted forward to yank on the handle and fling open the door. A blast of ice-cold air hit her. Catching a quick glimpse of what lay inside, she hastily shut the cooler. Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard. This wasn’t the time to be sick. Every minute counted.
“Cynthia, do you remember Hansel and Gretel?” Marla said. “I have an idea.”
“Are you nuts? What does a fairy tale have to do with our getting away from a killer?” Cynthia aimed a frightened glance at the entrance. “I don’t get it. How could David have murdered those people, and why?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my. He was going to kill you, too, wasn’t he? That’s why you were in that horrible coffin.”
Sensing her cousin was about to have hysterics, Marla held out a steadying hand to grasp Cynthia’s shoulder. “Listen to me. David may not have seen you. We can use the element of surprise in our favor. If he comes to get me, I’ll lure him closer while you crouch between those tables. I have to open this cooler door. Don’t look inside.”
Cynthia had just scurried into cover when David staggered through the doorway. Blood oozed from a cut on his lip, while a purplish bruise darkened one cheekbone. He loped forward like a wolf with a grin on his face.
“Now that I’ve put those two down, I can take care of you. Let’s finish what we started, Marla.” At one of the counters, he grabbed a long metal needle and started toward her.
Marla calculated the distance between them. “You told me once that we make a good team,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way her voice quaked. “We can still be partners.”
“That’s not an option.” The murderous gleam in his eyes told her what he intended. He advanced, holding the needle aloft.
Marla backed away until her butt tapped the hinged open door of the refrigeration unit. David neared, snarling as he moved in for the kill.
“Now,” Marla yelled.
She hadn’t known her cousin could move so fast. In a blur of speed, Cynthia shoved David from behind. He toppled into the cooler. Marla heaved shut the heavy door after him. Together she and Cynthia sealed the latches.
David was trapped inside like the fairy-tale witch in the oven.