"What's the plan?"
"Burn it," she said flatly. "Burn the whole thing down. Those books will go up like kindling, and all our problems will be gone."
"Burn Max, too?"
"Oh, no. I'd wait till she was gone; if she dies, then there's probate, and there are more people to talk into selling the property. If the store's gone, she'll have no choice but to sell. Even if insurance pays out, it will be at least a year before the store can be rebuilt and restocked. She'll lose the whole summer's revenue, and possibly next year's, too."
"I like it," he said slowly. "I think that'll work, actually. We need to get this done soon, though, or the deal will fall through."
"I'll do it tomorrow morning," she said. "She usually takes her dog for a walk. Once they leave, I'll toss a gas-soaked rag through the window and then a match.”
"That should do it," he said. "Although the arson might hold things up. Is there a way we can do it without the gasoline?"
"I'll see what I can do," she said. "Shall we touch base tomorrow afternoon?'
"Sounds good," he said. As they stood up from their chairs, my phone rang in my hand.
"What's that?" Agatha said sharply as I stabbed the red button to reject the call.
"There's someone in the closet," he said.
"They heard everything!" Agatha gasped.
"I'll take care of it," Scooter said in a tone of voice that made my blood run cold. He yanked the door open. Agatha let out a little scream, but Scooter just narrowed his eyes.
"Change of plan," he said, turning to Agatha. And then, smoothly, he grabbed one of the trophies lined up on the shelf and brought it down on my head.
When I came to with a splitting headache, I was still in the closet, only bound hand and foot. Still on top of the filing cabinet, though. I turned and pushed my feet at the closet doors, but they didn't budge; someone must have secured them from the outside.
I kicked at the door, but nothing happened.
"I wouldn't bother if I were you," came a familiar voice. It was Scooter's, of course. "I gave Rupert the rest of the day off after Agatha left. We're just waiting for it to get dark."
"Bethany will want to know where I am."
"No worries. We texted her from your phone. She knows you're out of pocket today. You told her to close up early and go home, and told her you'd pay her extra for taking over. Once it gets dark, we'll take you home."
"And then what?" I asked.
"You'll find out," he said.
A scream built up in me; I could only imagine what would happen. They'd burn the store with me in it, make it look like an accident. "Please let Winston go, at least."
"I'll think about it. In the meantime, please shut up. I have things to do today. First, though, I need you to sign something."
"No," I said automatically.
"If you sign it, I promise to let your dog go free. We'll write you up a nice suicide note, saying you couldn't face the failure of the business and your marriage together. We'll make sure your dog is nowhere near the building when it happens."
"You want me to sign a contract selling the shop to you, don't you?"
"You always were smart," he said. "It's too bad things had to end this way... but it's better if we can make sure at least one thing you love survives, don't you think?"
He opened the closet and handed me the contract.
"I can't read it with my hands tied behind my back," I said.
"Yes you can," he said. "I'll hold it for you."
I glanced at the words on the front page as he held it up for me. It was a contract to sell the property, for cash, to Dempsey Developers, effective immediately. "You killed Cal, didn't you?" I asked. "Because he was going to back out on you."
"He was a fair-weather friend," he admitted. "I thought I could talk him into an extension, but after our conversation, he decided to withdraw the offer immediately. Your ex-husband's girlfriend caused me a lot of trouble."
"How did she find out about you?" I asked.
"Cal and I used to like to go to the track together," he said. "We'd both wager. For Cal, it was fun, but for me, it’s... well, it’s my lifeblood. Kirsten figured it out, did a little poking around, and asked me a lot of questions about the racing... how the odds worked, etc. I told her everything I knew. Then I found out she was talking to some of my contractors... she poked into my private business. She and Cal broke up a while back. It wasn't until I met Cal on that beach and he confronted me about the gambling, about what was in Kirsten's book, that I realized how much of my situation she'd used."
"And that's why you killed him?"
"No. You know how Meryl Ferguson's been on him ever since she lost that election to him? Like a dog with a bone. She was chatting up Cal's dingbat girlfriend the other day, and Deirdre was stupid enough to tell Meryl that Cal was investing in some big project on the waterfront in town, and that she had an inside scoop. Cal was furious at her for saying anything—she threatened to tell Meryl he was the main investor in the project if he didn't agree to marry her. It didn't work, of course, but he told me he had to cut the project loose; it was too risky."
"Cut it loose? Or just give
