“So much for the damn screening,” Skylar announced when all of a sudden Priscilla let out a shriek followed by the sound of plates, tins, and God knows what crashing to the floor.
“The basement!” Mickey shouted. “She fell down the cellar stairs!”
“More like shoved, you stinking scoundrel! And I’m right here, so deal with it.”
The lights flickered for a split second before coming on. Priscilla leaned back on one of the pantry shelves for leverage and pushed herself up. Then she lunged for Mickey’s throat.
“You thought you could get me out of the way by forcing my car in a ditch, and when that didn’t work you tried to throw me down the stairs into Norrie’s basement. Well, the joke’s on you because I fell into the pantry door, not the basement. Norrie switched the sign.”
“It’s okay, Priscilla,” Gordon said. “He’s not going anywhere. You can back off.” He put his arm around her waist and moved her closer to him but not close enough apparently.
Priscilla broke free and was on top of Mickey like a wild woman. “What were you hoping for? That I’d break a leg? An arm? Because if you wanted to kill me, you would have done it the same way you did to Devora. What did I ever do to you anyway?”
Then, out of the blue, because things weren’t crazy enough, Glenda waved some sort of aromatic stick in the air as she muttered, “Cleansing negative energy. One with the universe.”
Zenora, who was a foot or two away from Mickey, Priscilla, and Gordon, held out her arms and stared straight ahead.
“Is she going into a trance or something?” Cammy asked. “I got in here as fast as I could from the living room.”
Zenora spun her head around and looked directly at me. “A murky brown aura is taking hold. I sense confusion and toxic thoughts.”
Gee, you think?
The door to the basement flung open but I seemed to be the only one who noticed. Everyone else appeared to be too busy grasping the scene in front of them. Priscilla hammered Mickey with fist punches and a wallop to his chin. Then, the pièce de résistance—she grabbed his shirt by the collar, causing it to rip. And when it did, I gasped. There, resting on Mickey’s bare skin, was a double-looped chain that resembled the kind found on motorcycle jacket sleeve epaulets. Like the one I’d seen in that Facebook photo Stephanie showed me. The exact kind of double-looped chain used to kill Devora.
It took me a minute, but it sank in. I was right all along. The real murder weapon used on Devora’s neck wasn’t Priscilla’s necklace. Behind me, from the basement doorway, I heard a familiar voice. Bradley Jamison stepped away from the threshold and said, “It’s over.” Then he gave me a quick hug and said, “Good thinking about having me in the basement to turn the breakers on and off. If this wasn’t an old house with the circuit board in the cellar, it wouldn’t have been as easy to pull off.”
“Yeah, and the open floor vents made it even better. I knew you’d hear me.”
“Forget the floor vents,” Gordon shouted. “Someone give me a hand with Priscilla.”
Godfrey rushed over and together, he and Gordon wrestled Priscilla away from Mickey, who held a hand over his chin and didn’t say a word. Meanwhile Cammy did her best to shoo Glenda and Zenora out of the kitchen. “Cleanse the air somewhere else,” she said.
“From across the living room I heard Rikesh shout, “Don’t let those two near this equipment. It’s really expensive.”
As Gordon and Godfrey eased Priscilla farther away from Mickey, Skylar took a step toward him and glared. “I don’t get any of this. I don’t get why you strangled Devora and I damn well don’t understand what Priscilla’s got to do with any of it. Were you in cahoots with Stefan and let him take the fall?”
Mickey pulled his collar up and swallowed. “Stefan had nothing to do with any of this.”
“What then? Did Devora’s husband offer to pay off your motorcycle in exchange for making her disappear permanently? Their impending divorce is tabloid news, for crying out loud.”
“Not Gerard Dobrowski,” I said. “It had nothing to do with him or his candy fortune.” Or the fact we’re now about to plant enough Concord grape root stock to get us into the next millennium.
The house had suddenly quieted down, making the wind outside sound even more forceful.
“What then?” Skylar asked. He crossed his arms and remained inches away from Mickey. “You might as well tell us the truth because you’re not going anywhere.”
Priscilla must have wielded one hell of a punch because the flesh on Mickey’s chin swelled up. I walked to the refrigerator-freezer and grabbed a bag of frozen peas. Organic frozen peas that I’d probably never consume. “Here,” I said to him. “This may be the last nice gesture you’ll get, so talk fast.”
Mickey put the bag on his chin and eyeballed the crowd that had now surrounded him. “Fine. Like Norrie said, it had nothing to do with Gerard. Or his money. Devora had a dislike for my girlfriend, Bailey Wagner. And dislike is putting it mildly. She used her connections and saw to it Bailey got passed over for a number of roles. With no recourse, Bailey did what she could. Miniscule parts, commercials, and understudying. She was the backup actress for Priscilla’s lead role in Light-Star’s major motion picture. That’s when I got the idea to rid the world of Devora Dobrowski once and for all while at the same time framing Priscilla for the murder so that the lead role would go to Bailey.”
Priscilla broke free from Gordon and Godfrey, who each had a hand on either arm, and charged Mickey like a linebacker. “You monster! You were going to let me rot in prison for a crime you committed! I’ve got news for you, buddy. There aren’t enough peas in Norrie’s freezer to save you from what I’m about to do.”
“He’s not worth it, Priscilla!” I shouted. Thankfully, Bradley got an arm around her waist and moved her away from Mickey.
Skylar, who still hadn’t budged from his spot near Mickey, glanced at Priscilla and then back to Mickey. “Hmm, so when there wasn’t enough evidence to charge Priscilla, you decided to crank it up a notch to get her out of the way.”
Mickey nodded. “I never intended to kill her. Only put her out of commission for a while. It wasn’t personal like it was with Devora. Priscilla simply stood in the way of Bailey getting her big break.”
“I’d like to give you a big break,” Priscilla said. “Starting with one of your arms. But in a way, some of this was my own fault, I suppose. I let everyone believe I was exonerated for the murder and that I could leave New York any time I wanted, but it wasn’t true. My passport’s locked up with all of yours.”
“I don’t understand why you’d lie about that,” Bradley said to Priscilla.
“Because I wanted to see Skylar and Mickey’s reactions when I told them. If either of them thought I killed Devora, they would have been really ticked that I got off free as a bird. And that would have meant they weren’t involved in her murder. Unfortunately, those two keep their emotions close to their chests.”
“Yeah, like that epaulet chain.” I moved closer to Mickey until we were face-to-face. “Tell me, how did you pull off the murder?”
“Like clockwork,” Mickey answered. “And a stroke of luck. I found Priscilla’s lost necklace and pocketed it. Careful to wear my winter gloves to avoid fingerprints. It was similar to the chain on my jacket but not as strong. Still, I figured it would be believable under the right circumstances.”
“Wrapping it up in a cattail and putting it by the edge of the Ipswiches’ pond where it was bound to be discovered?”
“Uh-huh. But that came much later. I had already approached Devora the day before about scouting out a new and better location. She handed me a note back at the hotel and underlined it with that hideous lipstick of hers. So, when Skylar and Rikesh went to the van to check on the sound feed the next day, I knew I had everything I needed to get Devora out of the picture for good. Once we trekked up to that little pond, I caught her off guard, and, well, the rest is history. Not wanting to have the evidence in plain sight, I decided to wear it around my neck rather than put it back on the jacket.”
“But you forgot one thing,” I said. “Devora’s handwritten note. The lab tech found it in the bushes under my living room window. Let me guess. It slipped out when you retrieved her eyeglasses. You couldn’t very well leave them at the scene when they might come in handy later. Tsk-tsk. Should have waited until you got inside before reaching into your pocket.”
“Hey, I’m really sorry about that. All I meant to do was—”
“Scare the living crap out of me?”
“No. Cast suspicion on you and scope out your house just in case.”
Just then, the lights began to flicker for good and we were plunged into darkness. All I could feel were bodies pushing against each other and enough scuffling to make me wonder if I’d need to have Francine’s floors refinished.
“He’s getting away!” Gavin shouted. “I had him in my grip but he broke loose.”
“We’re on it!” Theo shouted back.
More scuffling, pushing, crashing, and bumping. Someone must have opened the kitchen door because a blast of cold air swept through the place. Outside, in the dim grayish light, I could see a figure running toward one of the cars.
“Hurry!” I yelled. “Before it’s too late.”
In retrospect, I should have called Deputy Hickman and let the sheriff put out a BOLO. Instead, I ran shoeless, headfirst out the door, only to trip on the slick steps and fall into cold, wet snow.