Everyone jumped when the doorbell rang, including Samir, who was typically reserved. When Brooke opened the door, it seemed she got a second jolt.
“What are you doing here?” Brooke asked.
“I’m not selling anything, so you can drop the angry act,” said a familiar voice.
Alex emerged from the living room to see Bug Man standing on the front step, holding his green cap in his hand. His big eyes bulged even buggier than usual. Sweat made his thin, dark hair look greasy.
“It’s no act,” Brooke said. “The police were here and nearly broke up this party because of you, or did you forget?”
“Hey, I get I’m not popular around these parts, but I’m not a bad guy. And I’m here doing a civic service, okay?”
“Oh? What service?” Alex asked.
“I went to try to clear the air with the guy who assaulted me,” Bug Man said.
“The guy? You mean my brother-in-law?”
“Yeah, I know. Ken Adair. Aka the roach who got me fired. Whatever. I know who you all are. Which is why I’m here. I saw you go into this house, thought you should know.”
“Know what?” asked Alex.
“There’s some commotion over at your brother-in-law’s place,” Bug Man said. “I heard something. Raised voices—definitely an argument. It sounded heated, heard threatening language, but I couldn’t make out any voices except Ken’s. He didn’t sound right to me, so I rang the doorbell, but got no answer. I could have left it at that, but you know—that’s not what a good salesman does. A good salesman looks past grievances to always deliver a quality service.”
“You called the police on him,” said Alex. “That’s not exactly letting bygones be bygones.”
Bug Man made a big show of indignation. “I didn’t press charges, did I? And I’m here to tell you something is up over there. I’ve got a nose for this sort of thing. You go to enough houses, you get to know the crazy, if you know what I mean,” he said with a wink Alex found unsettling.
“You’d know the signs of crazy,” Brooke muttered.
“Now, now, no need for name-calling.” Bug Man made an overly theatrical bow, as if Brooke were a fair maiden. “But a warning is a warning. I could have left it alone. I don’t like the guy, but I’m not looking for him to get in any major trouble.”
Alex saw no need to wait any longer.
Samir, who had joined the gathering in the foyer, shared her alarm. “Mandy,” he breathed.
“Alex and I will check it out,” Brooke said to Samir. “No offense, but you might escalate things … inadvertently, perhaps, but you should keep away from Ken regardless.”
“I guess my work here is done,” said Bug Man in his oddly nasal voice. “Maybe I’ll just leave you a flyer.”
He reached into his satchel, but Brooke was already outside, closing the door behind her as Alex and Samir joined her on the front step. “Save it for later,” Brooke said. “If you’ve been helpful, I promise to become a customer for life.”
Bug Man beamed. “In that case—you mentioned Mandy’s name, right?” He was looking at Samir. “You looking for her? Because I’ve seen her.”
Alex and Brooke left it at that. They made their way down the driveway at a hurried clip while Samir stayed behind to hear what Bug Man had to say.
Alex noticed Lettie talking with Jay Kumar on the front step of his house as she rushed past. What was going on between those two? She didn’t have time to give it much thought.
A burst of firecrackers went off as they neared Ken’s house, causing Alex to jump. By the time they reached the front door, Alex heard it again.
Pop. Pop.
She jolted, uncertain where the noise had originated. She decided the blaring music and party commotion had made the firecracker’s ricocheting echo sound like it had been lit off inside the house.
She entered the home with a mix of emotions—appreciation for the Bug Man (big surprise), concern for Ken’s well-being, and an utter disgust at his abhorrent and criminal behavior with Mandy. And … fear?
Whatever commotion Bug Man had overheard, all seemed quiet now. Alex made her way tentatively down the hall. An odd smell hit her nostrils. Something burnt. Had a firework gone off inside?
“Ken, we need to talk,” she called.
No answer.
Ken’s office wasn’t far from the front entrance. Alex headed there, with Brooke still in the rear. The glass-fronted French doors were open as Alex approached. She saw Ken standing inside his office, with his back to her.
“I’ve been calling for you,” Alex said as she stepped across the threshold.
It wasn’t until the figure turned that Alex realized she’d been mistaken, her mind tricking her into seeing what she’d expected to see.
It was not Ken who faced her, but Evan Thompson.
Evan’s wide and glassy eyes—clear indications he was under the influence of something—fixated on Alex. His expression radiated a degree of madness that shook her before she even realized that he held a gun.
The unmistakable smell of gunpowder hung in the air, strong and pungent. Dazed as if he’d just been in an accident, Evan sidestepped to his left, revealing Ken’s inert form lying facedown, motionless on the wood floor, his body soaking in a pool of fresh blood.
Alex let out a scream, cut short when Evan grabbed her by the arm, yanking her away from the door. He gave her a hard shove from behind that sent her stumbling until she crashed into a wall of bookcases opposite the entrance. Pain rocketed down her arm.
Brooke cried out as Evan hauled her inside, pulling with enough force to throw her to the floor, not far from where Ken lay still.
Alex whirled around but would not advance because Evan had the gun leveled at her chest.
“Oh shit … oh shit,” Evan moaned. He ran his hand repeatedly through his hair, pulling at the roots anxiously. The gun remained steady in his other hand, though his breath came erratically. “You two shouldn’t be here,” he said, sounding more shocked than angry.
“Clearly,” said Alex breathlessly, her heart racing. “Evan, is Ken alive? He needs medical help. Let me call for help.”
Evan chuckled mirthlessly. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” he said. “Alex, throw your phone on the ground. Do it now. Brooke, you too. Then check for a pulse, will you?” he barked.
Evan’s behavior left little doubt in Alex’s mind that what happened to Ken was no accident, that her neighbor had most likely committed murder. Given he had a gun, Alex wasn’t about to go against Evan’s wishes. She had a daughter to think about, her own life to consider.
She tossed her cell phone onto the floor, but not anywhere near Evan. He’d have to ask for it, perhaps reach down to get it, and then maybe he’d be in striking distance of a well-placed kick. Brooke, who was still on the floor, seemingly in shock, got her phone out as well. She, too, placed it out of Evan’s reach, perhaps having the same thought as Alex.
“Slide them over to me,” said Evan, using the gun to draw an imaginary line from the phones to where he wished them to go.
So much for that plan. Alex and Brooke followed his orders.
“Now a pulse,” said Evan. “I need to know.”
Shaking with fright, Brooke did as she was asked, taking hold of Ken’s limp wrist, then applying pressure with her fingers. “I’m not trained,” she said after a moment, panic in her voice. “But I don’t feel anything.”
“Evan, please, let us help,” Alex said. “He might still be alive.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Evan. “He might.” Somehow he managed to sound relieved and disappointed at the same time. “Brooke, go stand near Alex, will you?” Using the gun as a pointer, he directed Brooke to where he wanted her to go.
Alex couldn’t reconcile the incongruence of Evan’s politeness with the seriousness of this situation. She and Brooke stood with their backs up against a wall of bookcases.
Evan maneuvered over to Ken’s desk, where the architectural plans for the addition were spread out. His movement created an opening for Alex to escape, but she dared not make a break for it. It would take one second—less than that, even—for Evan to put a bullet in her back.
From atop the desk, Evan retrieved a half-empty bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, Ken’s sacred drink. He uncapped it, put the bottle to his lips, and took a long swallow. He was shaking badly. After downing a few sizable gulps, he took one last drink, decreasing the bottle’s contents significantly.
Brooke spoke up. “Evan, please. You’ve got to be reasonable. We need to help Ken!”
“Help him?” Evan shouted. “Help? Okay, let’s help Ken. I just kept him out of prison for rape.” He surveyed Ken’s motionless form, raising the bottle as if making a toast. He drank more. Pulling the bottle from his lips, he said, “There you go, Ken. Happy to help.”
“Look, we know about Mandy,” said Alex, “about what Ken did to her in high school, but that’s no reason to—”
“Mandy?” Evan shouted, cutting Alex off mid-sentence. “What the hell do I care about Mandy Kumar? I’m talking about my daughter—I’m talking about Riley.”