“Don't worry about it,“ Liz said, gesturing with the gun. “I only hope I brought enough ammo for everyone. It would be so inconvenient if I had to go home to get more in the middle of this.“
“You don't think the police will be a little suspicious when they find eleven bodies here in the office?“ I asked. “You don't think maybe they'll look around pretty carefully to see who could be responsible?“
“The twelfth body will take care of that,“ she said.
“Twelfth body?“ I repeated.
“Yes,“ she said. “Mr. Mason, our disgruntled ex-employee. Sadly, the police will find out tomorrow that he has gone postal, captured many of his former colleagues along with the boss who fired him, tied – taped them all up, shot them, and then turned his gun on himself. If I have enough ammo. I suppose I could just burn the place down, but I'd really rather not. Are you finished there?“
Alas, I was. Rob and Michael were taped up. As loosely as I could manage, but still, I didn't think much of their chances of getting loose. Unless she was serious about going home for more ammo, and lived pretty far out of town.
“Come with me,“ she said. She made a move to leave the library, and at that moment, the phone, now lying at her feet, broke into “Jingle Bells.“
“Aargh!“ she growled, and stomped down on the phone. It took her half a dozen blows, but she finally damaged it enough that it gave up with a small, reproachful whir. Then she backed out of the library, gesturing for me to follow. I did, hands still in the air. She backed down the corridor, always keeping just out of reach, as I exited the library. Then she followed me down the corridor, barking orders when I was supposed to turn or stop or go through a door.
This is a good thing, I told myself. If I get a chance to make a move now, there's much less danger of hurting anyone else.
But she wasn't giving me a chance. Normally I admire efficiency in anyone. But I hadn't found a chance by the time we ended up outside the janitor's closet in the hallway.
“Open the door,“ Liz ordered.
I hesitated. I suspected she had Mason inside, and I wasn't sure whether he was still a live prisoner or whether she'd already turned him into the twelfth body. I'm not as squeamish as Rob, but I still wasn't all that keen on making the acquaintance of another corpse –
“I said open it,“ she snapped.
I braced myself and followed orders.
A duct-tape-trimmed face snapped up when the door opened, squinting through a pair of oversize glasses that had been knocked askew. He was lying in the space previously occupied by the mop and pail that had been in the corridor. If only I'd taken the time to put them away, I thought, mentally canceling my plans to give the cleaners a tongue-lashing.
“This is Eugene Mason?“ I asked.
“Drag him out,“ Liz ordered.
I examined Mason's face as I did. so. He didn't look at all familiar for someone who had supposedly been hanging around the office for weeks.
He wasn't easy to drag, partly because he was a big guy – maybe 250 pounds. And partly because he was squirming as hard as he could.
I realized I could use that. He'd obviously been rubbing his mouth against something, trying to loosen the duct tape. I managed to turn him so his face was on the floor, and then stepped on the duct tape, ripping it more than half off.
“Help!“ he shouted. “She's going to kill me! You've got to do something.“
“I would if she didn't have that gun,“ I said. “Why do you think she's going to kill you?“
“Oh, nothing in particular,“ he said with heavy sarcasm. “Except maybe the fact that she knocked me out, tied me up, and now she's waving a gun at me?“
“Let me rephrase that: Why does she want to kill you? Why you?“
“Look, you don't even have to give me the last check,“ he said, looking up at me. “I'll sign anything you want. Just let me go!“
“That's her call,“ I said, indicating Liz.
“Keep dragging,“ Liz said.
“Sorry,“ I said. “Just out of curiosity, have you been hanging around, watching the office?“
“Hanging around here? No,“ he said. “I got a job up in D.C. just after they fired me here. I don't have time to hang around in Caerphilly.“
“Then what are you doing here tonight?“
“She called and told me Rob had changed his mind and they were going to give me my final paycheck after all. And I didn't have to sign their stupid agreement, just a receipt for the check. I was supposed to meet her here at the office after hours.“
“Clever,“ I said to Liz. “And I bet the threatening phone calls were phony, too.“
“Threatening phone calls?“ Mason repeated.
“Absolutely brilliant,“ I said, not trying to hide the bitterness in my voice. “You had this planned all along.“
“Actually, the original plan was to lure both him and Ted here at night, and make it look as if Ted had surprised him trying to break in,“ she said. “But when the mail cart suddenly appeared with Ted just lying on there…“
She shrugged.
“Irresistible temptation, I suppose,“ I said. “And you could still use your disgruntled employee as one of the suspects. Everyone believes in the stalking and the threatening phone calls, of course, because it wasn't just you reporting them. I mentioned them to the chief, and I bet you got other people to do the same thing. Rob, for example.“
“Most people are so easily manipulated,“ she said with a smile that I would once have called sly. Now I was trying to decide between sadistic and just plain crazy.
“Keep dragging,“ she said.
So I kept dragging until we had Mason inside the reception room. By the time we got him there, I was panting from exertion. I was faking it, a little; I do have more upper body strength than that, but I figured if she thought I was overcome from the exertion, I'd have a better chance of getting the drop on her. I feigned exhaustion and let Mason fall to the floor with a thud by the reception desk – about where the mail cart stopped, I thought.
“Pick him up again,“ Liz said. “Or I'll get someone else.“
“Right,“ I panted. “Just give me a second.“
The door opened.
“Do you realize you left your dog in the car?“ Doc said as he walked in, leading Spike. “It may be nighttime, but it's still in the eighties out there. Do you want the poor thing to –?“
“Put your hands up!“ Liz snapped. “Stop that immediately. Get back there!“
The last order was to me. When I realized that Doc's entry had distracted Liz, I made a wild leap for the reception desk, intending to vault over it and grab something – anything – that could be used as a weapon. I wasn't quite so tired as I'd been pretending, but I guess I was more tired than I realized. Instead of clearing the top of the reception desk, I landed on it and slid across. My foot caught on the upright pole of George's stand as I passed. The stand tilted way back and then righted itself with a snap as I fell off the desktop and landed on its base. George, though half-asleep, managed to keep his grip on the perch during the initial tilt, but then lost it when the stand snapped back, propelling him across the room nice a misshapen cannonball.
Straight at Doc, whose hands had shot into the air on Liz's command. He was still holding Spike's leash, and Spike, to keep from choking, was standing on his hind feet. And not happy about it, from the sound of his barking.
When Doc saw George flying toward him, he dropped the leash and put his hands in front of him, either to catch George or fend him off; it was hard to tell which.
And when Spike realized he was free, he lunged at the nearest object. Which, bless his evil little heart, was Liz. He buried his teeth in her ankle.
