“Okay, now here comes the million-dollar question, Lem…” Des breathed in and out. “Can that cloakroom door be unlocked from inside the cellar?”
“Not a problem. Just have to turn the thumb latch.”
Des grabbed the old custodian by the shoulders and kissed him on the forehead. Then she charged off in the direction of the church.
“Slow down, Des,” cautioned Soave, trotting to catch up with her. “The hostage unit will be here in ten minutes.”
“I’m not waiting for this situation to harden, Rico.” She paused at her cruiser for her flashlight.
“Look, I know you’re worried about Berger but we got proper procedure to follow here. We need risk assessment, authorization. You can’t just go cowboy.”
“Rico, I’m not waiting around for some jarhead with a bullhorn to hammer out a deal for Mitch’s life. That fat fool in there is the man I’m going to marry.”
“Since when?” Yolie erupted.
“Since I heard his voice on the phone just now. He’s my soul mate, Yolie. I’ll die if I lose him. We belong together. And we’re getting married. And, damn it, it would be nice if he lived to find that out. Which is why I’m going in.” She started her way around back of the church, both of them striding along with her. “And why you two are staying out here. You had no prior knowledge of my play. We never even had this conversation, understand?”
“Des, I really, really don’t like this,” Soave said.
“Deal with it, Rico.”
“I’m going in with you, girl,” Yolie insisted. “You’ll need backup.”
“Big thanks, but I won’t let you risk it. It’s my man and my career.”
They’d reached the rear of the church. Quietly, Des raised the Bilco doors, throwing sunlight on the steep cement steps down to the coal cellar. She removed her big Smokey hat. Unlaced her boots, slipped them off and started down the narrow steps in her stocking feet, pausing to glance back up at Soave and Yolie as they stood out in the driveway.
They both looked worried sick.
Des flashed a reassuring smile at them. Took a great big deep breath. Then plunged her way into the deep, dark recesses of the basement below the old church.
CHAPTER 25
Inside the church, they could hear the first siren approach, coming very fast.
Des, most likely, Mitch reflected as he lay there on the floor, his arms lashed together beneath him. Not a very comfortable position-especially with Eric holding that sharp, cold blade against his throat. Eric was behind him on the floor with his back resting against the edge of the dais and his left arm wrapped around Mitch’s chest, hugging Mitch against him. Mitch felt powerless, utterly terrified. And, yet, strangely comforted. Being held this way reminded him of when he was a little boy and his dad would read him Bartholomew and the Oobleck. Although Nathan Berger had smelled much better than Eric Vickers. And he’d never held a knife to his only son’s tender young throat.
Danielle sat before them in the front row of pews, wringing her hands. Her eyes darted wildly with fear behind those wire-framed glasses.
Mitch heard the cruiser pull up outside with a screech. A car door open and shut. Footsteps. Her footsteps. A voice. Her voice.
“She’ll clear all of the Food Pantry people out of here,” he said hoarsely as he lay there, quaking with fear. “In a few more minutes the others will get here from Westbrook. They’ll close off this intersection and reroute the traffic. It’ll take another twenty minutes for the big boys from Meriden to show. We have some time, is what I’m trying to say. We could use it productively.”
“Or you could shut the hell up,” Eric growled.
“Don’t think I can, Eric. I chatter when I’m nervous. I know this about myself. I also know it’s not too late to make the best out of this situation. Why don’t you tell me how it happened? Maybe I can help you turn things around.”
“You can’t even save yourself. What makes you think you can save us?”
“Oh, what does it matter now, Eric?” Danielle demanded hotly. She wasn’t merely scared. She was pissed at him. Why, because it was his plan? “Tell Mitch how it happened. What can it hurt?”
In the distance, Mitch could hear the wail of the other sirens.
“Fine, then I’ll tell him,” Danielle snapped, heaving her chest. “It was just supposed to be about the Gullwing, I swear. We needed the money, Mitch. The farm is… we’re so strapped for cash. But the more we talked about it, the more it all grew into something…”
“Bolder,” Eric spoke up.
“That’s what you call it?” asked Mitch.
“Absolutely,” Eric replied, his voice brimming with pride. Which Mitch found incredibly bizarre-not that any of this wasn’t bizarre. “Let me tell him, hon. It’s my story.” Eager to share it now, Eric shifted himself around so that he was kneeling directly over Mitch, looking right down into his eyes as he held that knife to his throat. “See, I got to talking with this teamster-type guy at the Union Square green market last summer,” he began, blue eyes burning bright with intensity. “He drove a truck in from Long Island every Wednesday and Saturday for one of the old farmers out there. And he started telling me his brother had just gone to jail for stealing exotic cars for some shady dealer who’d sell them overseas. I immediately thought of Mom’s Gullwing, right? He put me in touch with them. At first, they only offered me a few grand for it. I dickered with them all winter. Held out for twenty thou. They finally caved since the Gullwing’s such a collector’s item. Gave me my choice of delivery dates. I picked one that coincided with the Kershaw brothers’ release from prison. That way absolutely everyone would figure Stevie and Donnie were behind it-especially if they had a reason to be at Four Chimneys Farm that same morning.”
“They were ideal fall guys,” Mitch suggested as more cruisers pulled up outside, car doors opened and closed. “Congenital bad boys who have a real grudge against your family.”
“They were perfect. And it was even recycling day.”
“Which gave you the perfect opening to take out Pete. Anyone investigating his death would assume that Stevie and Donnie bashed the guy’s head in so he couldn’t identify them to the police. But it was you and Danielle who stole the Gullwing, wasn’t it? You and Danielle who went looking for Pete. You didn’t have to go far either-you encountered him as soon as you pulled out of your driveway. If he noticed the Gullwing, he probably figured it was Poochie. Had no reason to think otherwise. Not until you two beat him to death with that length of pipe. One of you took a tumble in the process.”
“I tripped in the dark,” Danielle said miserably, seated there with her shoulders slumped. “I wasn’t hurt. It was nothing.”
“Once Pete was dead you delivered the Gullwing to the truck that was waiting in the commuter parking lot.”
Eric nodded. “I did that while Danielle ran back up to our house, quick as a bunny, for my truck. She grabbed up Pete’s re-turnables, then picked me up at the commuter lot. It was still dark out. No one saw us.”
“On your way home, you dropped Pete’s bottles and cans off at the Kershaw place, the better to incriminate them. Then you returned home to your morning chores and no one was the wiser. Everyone figured Stevie and Donnie were the culprits. Everyone except for Des. She never fell for it. Not that she had the slightest idea it was you. No one did.”
“How did you figure it out?” Eric demanded, crouching over him with that damned knife.
“You told me,” Mitch replied, swallowing carefully. “The other day in the coal cellar, when you were being all jealous and paranoid about Danielle and Mark.”
“What did I?…”
“You said that madness runs in your family. A very odd admission for you to make, considering how you won’t side with Claudia’s attempt to have your mother declared legally incompetent. You won’t even acknowledge that
