"How…how did you get in?" I finally managed to say.
Jeff gripped Benny around the throat with his hand, and the cat hissed. "When I got your text, I was already waiting outside and got suspicious. I rang the bell, but there was no answer. You really shouldn't leave a spare key underneath the mat, Carrie. Some psycho could wander in at any moment."
I never left my key under the mat. Tad had planned to stop over earlier today to take some measurements, but it was obvious now that he'd never made it. In silence, I cursed the hand that fate had dealt me.
Jeff nodded toward the crates. "As soon as I saw Wendy's number and these goodies, I knew you were on to me. I'm surprised she remembered anything from the night of my show. That slut was drunk out of her mind."
I stared at Benny and the knife that was so precariously close to him, then struggled to breathe normally. "Can you put him down, please?"
"Hand me your phone first," Jeff ordered. "Then I'll let the pretty kitty go."
I obediently handed over the phone, and Jeff released his hold on Benny, but not the knife. Benny let out a cry of what might have been relief and scampered off in the direction of my bedroom.
Jeff wasted no time in crushing the phone underneath his foot and gestured at me with the knife. "Sit."
Having no choice, I lowered myself to the couch, and he joined me, placing the blade about an inch away from my throat.
"I don't want to hurt you, Carrie," he said, "but there doesn't seem to be any other way around it. You're too nosy for your own good. It's really going to be the death of you."
He smiled, pleased with his joke, while I cringed and berated myself. If only I had never texted Keanu. He would have come straight to the apartment after his meeting, but instead he'd be waiting for me at the theater around ten o'clock, a place that I would likely never see again. Wait a second. What about the cast? They would be waiting for us and surely be suspicious when we didn't arrive.
"We'll be late for rehearsal." I spoke with optimism and tried to stand.
Jeff reached over and yanked my head back by the hair so that I landed heavily against the cushions of the couch. "Already taken care of," he said. "I sent a text to the stage manager and asked him to get in touch with everyone. I told him we'll reschedule it for tomorrow night. The only difference, of course, is that you won't be there."
Sweat trickled down the small of my back. "You don't want another death on your conscience. Aren't Sean's and Randolph's enough?"
Jeff loosened his grip on my hair, but that didn't matter because the knife was too close to my throat for comfort. Unless help arrived quickly in some shape or form, I was confident he'd cut me up into tiny pieces.
"Well, Carrie." He sounded impressed. "It appears that you might be a better detective than singer. Then again, your singing is about as bad as it can get."
Ouch. Way to hit a girl when she's down.
"How did you make the connection?" Jeff asked, his hot, sour breath against my face, causing nausea to stir in the pit of my stomach. I tried to remain still, afraid any motion might set him off further.
"I don't have all the details," I confessed. "The program from your play said that you were going into the family jewelry business. I wondered if you could have gotten cyanide to poison Randolph from there."
"A very good assumption," he said, "and you'd be correct." Jeff's eyes shifted to the crate on the coffee table. "You were asking Howie an awful lot of questions about Wendy yesterday, so that put me on my guard. Where did you get these crates and the playbill from?"
I didn't answer right away.
He tugged at my hair, and I whimpered in pain. "I asked you a question, Carrie."
I struggled to keep my voice calm. "His daughter gave them to me."
Jeff's eyebrows rose. "I knew he had a kid, but why would she give you anything? You're not exactly Nancy Drew, although you seem to think so."
The pain seared through my head. "Please loosen your grip. I'm not going to run, I promise. She…she used to work at the Loco Moco. She has no idea that you are connected. She thinks Belinda is the killer."
Jeff laughed and relaxed his grip. "Good. That's the way it should be. That whore was only interested in his money anyway. I didn't want to kill Randy, but he gave me no choice."
"Why?" I turned my head to look him straight in the face. "Was it because he knew that you killed Sean Tyler?"
Okay, I'd admit. I was winging it a bit with my guess, but why else would he want Randolph dead, except to shut him up? Or perhaps he had been blackmailing Jeff for some reason, but Randolph made more money. What did Jeff have that Randy wanted?
Like a sledgehammer, the truth hit me between the eyeballs, and I remembered what Howie had said the first day we met. "Randolph wanted the Hana Hou, didn't he?"
"Congratulations. You've just won your supersleuth-of-the-year award." Jeff's face brightened. "Maybe I should do a mystery next season. What do you think? Agatha Christie, perhaps? We'll give Rose a white wig, and she can play Miss Marple since you won't be around to star in it. You'll be six feet under by tomorrow."
Not a cheerful thought. "He was blackmailing you?"
"As you know, we all went to school together." Jeff studied the plaque that hung on my wall, Cats Make a House a Home. Tad had given it to me as a housewarming gift. "Howie and I were roommates and always got along well. We were also both theater majors. Randy was a communications major and such a prickly little type. Even then he thought he was too good for anyone. Smart, though. He knew how to work the whole media thing back then, before Facebook, Twitter, blogs, and all that other crap. He had a knack for getting people to listen to what he had to say."
I pretended to be interested, but my eyes kept darting around the room while he talked, trying to plan an escape route. Where had Benny wandered off to?
Jeff scowled. "He hung around the theater, writing reviews for the school's newspaper. How that jerk loved to put everyone down. He never cared for me—I guess my disdain for him must have shown. Anyhow, I'd written and directed a musical for my senior project and gave Howie one of the leads so that he could get credit for his own project. Randy offered to get us some extra publicity with a couple of local newspapers, and it was too good to pass up. Of course, he wanted a part in exchange for it. That man always had to have an angle. He was a Kardashian wannabe from that time period—no talent for acting but still wanted all the fame and glory that went with it."
"The girl I chose for the female lead was named Wendy Ritzer," he continued. "She was gorgeous. Oh, we all knew that she was easy, but that was part of the appeal. When she came to the auditions, I couldn't even concentrate. She was like you."
"What?" I managed to squeak out in horror.
He chuckled at my response. "I don't mean that you're easy, Carrie. Like you, she had no singing talent."
"Oh, okay." I didn't know if I should be insulted or relieved.
Jeff went on. "On a positive note, her beauty was perfect for the part of Jessica in my show. She had a magnificent stage presence, like you. After the tryouts, she stopped me and hinted that she'd do anything for a part. She was a theater major and wanted to use it on her résumé. So I let my hormones decide for me. Typical college boy, right?"
Ew.
"Wendy had a boyfriend," Jeff said. "His name, as you know, was Sean Tyler. I didn't know of him but figured she had to have a guy—or ten. I didn't care—I just wanted to score with her." He paused. "She was my first, if you know what I mean."
Yikes. No more please.
Jeff placed a cold hand at the base of my neck, and I flinched. "The show ran for one night only, and we had a full house. My professor was very pleased, and I knew that Howie and I were both getting A's. We had a cast party backstage afterward to celebrate, and everyone got blitzed." He chuckled. "Finally it was just me and Wendy, and she made good on her promise."
His grip tightened on my throat, and panic, like bile, rose in the back of it. There was no doubt in my mind that Jeff was going to kill me. He had no choice—I knew too much.
"We were in the dressing room, right in the middle of the act—pardon the stage pun—when Sean walked in on us. Of course, he went nuts. Wendy was bombed out of her mind, and when he smacked her across the face, she went lights out. The guy started punching me, and I was no match for him, so I grabbed the first thing I could lay my hands on, which happened to be a baseball bat that we used as one of the props. One whack across the skull, and he was dead." Jeff smiled, as if he found this part mildly amusing.
I tried to appeal to his sane side, but doubted that he had one. "It was self-defense. You should have called the police and explained."
Jeff crossed his legs casually, as if we were having a heart-to-heart chat. Good. If he relaxed a little, maybe I stood a better chance of getting away from him.
"I guess I was afraid the police might see right through my facade," Jeff explained as he lowered the knife to my chest. "You see, after he was dead, I realized that I'd enjoyed the kill way too much. I knew Sean wouldn't be my last."
His cold smile sickened me. I glanced over his shoulder, and my eyes focused on the vase of flowers Keanu had brought. Unfortunately, it was too far away to reach. Even if I did manage to get away from Jeff, what about Benny? I couldn't leave him here with this psycho.
The wall clock ticked away in the silent room. Only about ten minutes had passed since Jeff had announced his arrival, but it felt more like ten hours. I had to make a move soon, before it was too late. "What happened after that?" I asked.
"Before I even had a chance to lock the theater doors, guess who walked backstage?" He didn't wait for my response. "Yep, good old Randy. Seems he'd forgotten something. I figured I was done for, but after I explained what happened, to my surprise he couldn't have been more helpful. He played lookout while I put Sean's body in my trunk, and we carried Wendy outside. I hoped that she'd black the whole thing out. When I ran into her a couple of days later, she acted like nothing had happened, so I figured that was a good sign. After Randy and I took off with Sean's body, I dug a grave in the middle of the night, off a nearby bike trail, while Randy played lookout. I thanked him profusely for his help and told him if he ever needed something, just say the word."
"Guess he said the word, huh?" I managed to choke out.
Jeff shook his head in disgust. "I should have known. At first it wasn't a big deal. I'd get a note that simply said Word with an amount printed next to it. Over time, he's gotten worse. Last year when he found out through Howie that I wanted investors, he told me he'd take a fifty percent share of the theater, at no cost to him, of course."
The tip of the knife came to rest underneath my chin, and I didn't dare breathe. Benny appeared in the doorway of my bedroom and yawned as he watched us. Go away, Ben. Go away.
"It was never going to end." Jeff's voice was quiet as his eyes fixed on Benny. "I went to see good old Randy the other morning and told him I was thinking about selling the theater. I have an offer on the table that's pretty good. He demanded half the profits if I sold. That's when I knew that I had to get rid of him. I still had some cyanide powder from the family jewelry store. After we shut down a few years ago, I figured it might come in handy someday. Turns out I was right."
Sweat broke out in a river on my forehead. "Did you know I was going to his room that morning with the food?"
He had his face in front of mine now, forcing me to look directly at him. He pressed the blade into my chin until the sharp tip connected with my skin, and I whimpered, seeing nothing but his eyes—a never-ending pool of darkness. "Not you in particular. When Randy told me the Loco Moco was bringing us breakfast and you knocked on the door, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Imagine my surprise when I heard your voice. I already knew what I had to do so it was imperative no one else find me there. Guess you have a real talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Carrie."
There was no doubt about that.
Jeff moved the knife away and squeezed my neck tightly with his other hand, forcing me to gasp for breath. "Of course, when Randy said the coffee was terrible, that was the opportunity I'd been looking for. I knew you'd be coming back, and now you had a motive. The devoted young girl who would do anything for her boyfriend and his family owned business."
Stars were starting to dance before my eyes. "Please," I croaked. "Please don't."
Jeff continued, as if he hadn't heard me. "Right after you left, his cell rang, and he went on the balcony to take the call. That was all the time I needed. I dumped the powder in his coffee cup, and when he came back in, I asked him what was so bad about the coffee. To illustrate the point, he took another sip and then proceeded to give me the lengthy boring details about his beloved Kona coffee. As he started to have spasms, I wiped down a few things I had touched in the room and even remembered to grab my mimosa glass on the way out. It all worked like a charm."
Benny meowed, and Jeff looked over at him. It was the split second I needed for my fingernails to make contact with Jeff's cheek. Jeff let out a howl, and the knife slipped from his grasp. In a fit of rage, he smacked me across the face so hard that I almost blacked out. Before I could move, he pushed me down onto the couch, the weight of his body pressing mine into the cushions as he squeezed my neck tightly between both of his hands.
"Goodbye, Carrie," he whispered. "The curtain is about to go down on your life."
As we struggled, I was dimly aware of orange and white fur as it flew through the air. Benny landed on Jeff's shoulder and clawed him in the face. Jeff screamed and released his hold on me. He reached for Benny while I gulped some much-needed air. The cat hissed at Jeff as he caught him by his hind legs.
At that moment, there was a knock on my front door. "Carrie?" Keanu's worried voice drifted in from the outside.
"No!" I screamed and reached over the arm of the couch to grab the vase, which I wasted no time in bringing down on Jeff's head. He dropped Benny and toppled forward onto my glass coffee table, breaking it in half during the process. He lay on the floor among shards of glass, motionless.
The sound of someone kicking at the front door could be heard. It flew open, and Keanu rushed in. On his way toward me, he stopped for a brief moment when he spotted the body lying there. I stepped over Jeff and ran into Keanu's arms. Benny was now perched on the arm of the couch, contentedly cleaning himself, as if nothing had happened.
"Oh my God." Keanu held me tightly against him. "Are you okay? Did he try to attack you?"
"He tried to kill me. He's the one…killed…Randolph." I wasn't making much sense, but my voice shook so badly that I couldn't control it.
Keanu held me firmly around the waist with one hand as he reached into his pocket with the other for his cell and immediately pressed 9-1-1. "Yes, please send an ambulance to 54 Hani Drive, Apartment 1B. We need police assistance too. A man just tried to kill my girlfriend."
I looked down at Jeff, who still wasn't moving, and laid my head against Keanu's chest until my breathing returned to normal.
He kissed my hair. "Don't worry. He's not going anywhere anytime soon. You got him good, baby." He said something else to the operator and then disconnected the call.
I pressed my face into him, determined not to cry. "How did you know to come here?"
"What do you mean? We had a date, remember?"
I looked up at him, surprised. "Yes, but I sent you a text earlier this afternoon, saying that Jeff wanted to have rehearsal tonight. He came to pick me up and found my key under the mat, so he let himself in. He saw the crates and Wendy's number and suspected that I was on to him."
He pressed his lips against my forehead. "I never saw it. When I got out of the meeting, I had about twenty texts from my father and several vendors. I must have missed yours."
For once Terry had come through on my behalf. "I'll have to thank your father personally for harassing you so much."
Keanu kept the knife aimed at Jeff's nonmoving body. "Get something to tie his hands up with," he said. "I don't want to take any chances if he comes around before the police get here."
I ran into my bedroom and started to dump items out of my dresser until I found a scarf I'd worn during frigid Vermont winters. I went back to the living room and showed Keanu.
He nodded approval and handed the knife to me. "It's better than nothing." He dropped down next to Jeff's body. "I'll make it as tight as I can."
Once Jeff's hands had been secured, we sat down at the kitchen table next to each other while Keanu kept a sharp eye on Jeff and held the knife firmly in his hand.
"When I heard you scream, I was never so scared in my entire life." He examined my neck and face then glared over at Jeff in obvious contempt. "You've got bruises all over and a black eye. How the hell did you manage to get away from him?"
I turned and pointed at Benny, who was curled up on the arm of the couch, snoozing away. "My new hero."
Keanu looked from Benny to me and grinned. "Well, I'll be damned."