“Okay. I get the message. You don’t like me.” I put my palms out in surrender, and to ward off more spit.
But the girl’s gaze had moved beyond me. I turned and looked.
We were in the sort of upstairs sitting room where ladies in bygone days had entertained close friends. The white-haired woman slumped head first on the silver tea service she’d been presiding over wasn’t likely to do any more entertaining. I went to her side and felt for a pulse, but her skin was already cold.
The girl looked on without emotion. I tried to think.
“Look, Julie, Julia — I know I’m not getting your name right, but I can’t quite remember — I know you can’t understand what I’m saying. I know you’re afraid. But we’re going to get out of—”
“Not afraid. Not afraid!” She jerked her chin at the body. “Dead, yes? I see much dead. Soldiers come to house. They shoot. We too. I shoot. Bang, bang. Make dead—”
“Yes, good,” I cut in, alarmed by her escalating intensity, and relieved we could communicate, more or less. “Bartoz told me you were very brave,” I added.
The compliment, or the name of the man she had a girlish crush on, derailed her as I’d hoped it might.
“Bartoz talks of me?”
“Yes.”
She swung from agitation to pouting.
“Bartoz thinks I am child!”
Precious minutes were ticking away.
“When you’re a year or two older, he’ll see you’re not. But for that to happen, we’ve got to get out of here. Understand?”
“Get out, yes.”
“Let me untie your hands.”
Whoever had trussed her up (Lena probably) had used a silk scarf. Fragile as it was, the fabric was strong. It also allowed a knot both smaller and tighter than possible in a rope.
“Why did they take you?” I asked as I worked at it.
“Take?”
“Put you in their car.”
The girl shrugged.
“I sit. They park car, see me.”
She’d been sitting on a car in the parking lot, as I’d seen her do.
“They argue. Handsome man laughs, says I will be in... in...”
“Insurance?”
“Yes, this. Man waves at me, friendly. He points to look at something in car. When I lean in for look... hit on head.”
There ought to be a special hell for men like Perry, I thought as the knot came free and the silk, thereupon, all but unwound itself.
“Julitta,” the girl said, rubbing her wrists. “My name.”
I already was looking out the room’s single window. “I’m Maggie.” Below the window a flagstone area with stone steps led to a cellar. A jump would just about guarantee broken bones. The window itself was sealed shut by layers of paint.
“Break?” Julitta asked gesturing.
“No. The noise would bring them in here before either one of us could get out.”
I made a quick search of the room, but found nothing that could be used as a weapon. Since the corpse that had been Great-Aunt Clara showed no visible cause of death, I suspected she’d been poisoned by something on the tray in front of her, but I doubted our captors could be persuaded to have a cup of tea.
A chaise longue with fringed throws draping its foot faced the door. Dropping onto the floor beside it, I dumped out my purse. The crochet hook I carried would open the lock in three or four minutes, but chances were high we’d walk directly into the arms of one of the crooks. The only other items in front of me were my wallet and badge, a pencil, lipstick and car keys, and the folding ruler I’d used in my role as efficiency expert.
If we extended the ruler and held it a few inches from the floor, we could possibly trip someone as they entered. On our knees, though, we’d make easy targets if more than one of them came in.
Julitta perched on the chaise longue, watching. My eyes scanned the room again. They came to rest on the silver tea service. Toss the cream pitcher under their feet like a ball? The handle on it would cause it to move too erratically.
Another thought occurred. I got up and began to remove things from the big silver tea tray.
“No to eat!” Julitta warned, pointing at the corpse.
“No,” I agreed. I hefted the tea tray.
I’d played plenty of backyard baseball with Wee Willie and the other neighborhood kids. I usually struck out, but I swung hard.
The oval tray was heavier than a baseball bat, but it was all I had. And I thought I heard a voice in the hall.
“Get over there,” I said, indicating the opposite side of the room. If bullets flew, I wanted her out of the way. The farther apart we were, the more it also improved whatever small odds I might be able to give her.
“If I can make them look at me, you run. Get out of the house. Understand?”
“Out. Yes.” She nodded.
“Run to a neighbor. Tell them the old woman here is dead and there’s a man with a gun.”
“Old woman dead.”
It was all we had time to plan. Outside the door, a key went into the lock. I stepped away from the door on my side. Julitta stepped back on hers. I took a batter’s stance and prepared to swing slightly upward.
The gun hand came through the opening first, then the rest of the figure. I swung. The flat of the tray smashed into a head. A man’s. Bone crunched. He dropped with a grunt.
Lena pushed in on his heels. The trim .22 in her hand pivoted in my direction, firing blindly. Reflex already had caused me to duck and raise the heavy tray in a feeble effort to shield myself.
The impact of the bullet jarred my arm as it ricocheted off the angled tray. Julitta tackled Lena and brought her down. I threw the tray at Lena’s gun hand, then fell on top of her, grabbing her wrist.
Rice, whom I’d clobbered, still lay motionless. My foot hit his arm as I struggled with Lena. Then it connected with something else, the gun he’d dropped, maybe. I kicked it as hard as I could toward the side of the chaise longue where it would be out of his reach as he revived.
Lena aimed a punch at my face. It was a miracle the gun we were grappling for hadn’t gone off.
“Run!” I screamed at Julitta.
“Let go of the gun and get off her, or I shoot the kid,” said Perry behind me.