I felt like singing. Why not? I was back inside my house. For the moment I could forget the awkward fact that Marty was holding a gun on Brennan. We shuffled in through the foyer, then turned into Brennan’s den, where it was clear he’d been working. His computer screen was still showing active trades on the foreign stock exchanges, and he had papers laid out across his giant oak desk. The one I had found for him in a furniture shop in North Carolina. It was magnificent, with hardwood inlays and drawers that felt like they moved on air.
Brennan had been remarkably quiet up to this point, but he still had that self-assured, superior look on his face, even with Marty standing a few feet away pointing the gun at him. It was clear Brennan didn’t think we were going to hurt him. Obviously, we’d been drinking, and I’m sure Brennan just viewed it as another immature prank by a dull wife he thought he’d gotten rid of. But after a minute or so, he was tired of the game and anxious to get back to work.
He had his hands up slightly, like he was being robbed. It must have been human instinct. He kept his voice low as he said, “Could you point that somewhere else, please.”
Marty just said, “Nope.”
It was the best possible response to unnerve Brennan. It also shut him up. He stared at Marty but wisely remained silent.
Marty cut his eyes to me in an effort to get a clear idea of what we had planned. He was visibly more agitated than when we’d started this little prank and was hopping from one foot to the other like a nervous kid who needed to go to the bathroom. He was probably wondering if I expected him to gun down Brennan like he had Teal the day before. I stepped over to him, patted him on the back, gently wrapped my hand around the gun, and eased it from his tight grip, quietly saying, “It’s going to be okay.” He visibly relaxed as he relinquished the pistol and took a pace backward.
Now I held the gun. I took a breath to calm down. Marty was about to snap, and I was sure I’d taken the pistol just in time. As I stepped away from him, closer to Brennan, I told Marty, “Just wait right there, sweetheart, and keep calm.”
Brennan picked up on the fact that I was trying to keep Marty from doing anything crazy, and he thought we were looking for a way out. He waited while I made sure the pistol was pointed down, away from anyone’s vital organs.
Marty appeared a little hurt that I had taken the gun from him. If I had acted a little faster the day before, maybe poor Teal would still have been alive. The gun was heavy in my hand. Heavier than I remembered it from the range. I carefully slipped it into the pocket of my jeans. It fit snugly.
Brennan was visibly relieved and regained some of his swagger. He raised his voice and said, “You found some moron you can order around and you think it’s love? Christy, what in the hell are you guys doing here? This doesn’t help anyone. You guys need to get out of my house and sober up.”
That’s when I straightened up and looked him right in the eye and said, “I’m not drunk. In fact, I’ve barely had a drink all night.” I realized that surprised Marty, too, as he looked at me with a puzzled expression.
Then I reached into my purse, the one large purse I owned, and easily drew out another pistol. The second one of the matched set. It looked identical and rendered both men absolutely mute. I liked that.
I gave my full attention to Marty. “I’m afraid there’s a lot you don’t understand, sweetheart. And I don’t think you’ll ever realize how much this bothers me.” He still had that look like a puppy as I stepped closer to Brennan, standing just behind him and facing Marty. “I mean it, Marty, I am really, really sorry.” Then I aimed the pistol and squeezed the trigger. Just like I had been taught. By Brennan. The pistol bucked in my hand and the noise inside the house, with all the marble and tile, sounded like a nuclear blast.
But I still managed to hit my target and shot Marty once, almost dead center in his chest.
The flash from the muzzle blinded me temporarily. I didn’t even see any bloodstain on his shirt before he dropped straight to the floor, and thankfully, he didn’t make any sounds like Teal had. He rolled onto his back, and then everything stopped. He was absolutely still. My ears rang from the gunshot, and the air had the acrid odor of gunpowder. Marty was dead. It had been quick, and he was now flat on a hard wooden floor that would be easy to clean up.
I’d noticed how much Brennan had jumped when I pulled the trigger. I couldn’t see his face, but I could imagine what he was thinking right now. His legs were already trembling.
Good God, this was what I had been waiting for.