"He was going to tell the board to kill it completely. So I had to kill him. He was going to ruin me.” He shook his head. "I never should have left that stupid book in the store. If I'd known what she meant, I never would have left it behind." He ran his hand over his head, his movements jerky. "I just wasn't thinking straight; I'd just gotten that letter, and I was mad." He looked up at me. "I came back later to get the book, but I couldn't find it."
"So you broke into the shop?"
"Once," he said. "And Agatha did on her own, too, as I'm guessing you've figured out."
"I gathered from the conversation," I said. "So, how far in debt are you?"
"A couple hundred grand," he said. "When this deal comes through, I'll be able to pay that off and still pocket a good chunk of change."
"When? I thought Cal's company put a time limit on it?"
"How do you know that?" He was quiet. "Oh, I see. You were in my office, too. How did you manage that?"
"I waited until Rupert had to use the facilities," I admitted. "I watched from across the street. Just like you watched for Ted to leave the hotel before you confronted Kirsten."
"That's right," he said. "She ruined my life. I had to make her pay. She used me for her book, made all that money off of me, and then ruined me. If she hadn't written that book, none of this would have happened." He grimaced. "And I'm still not sure if the job's done."
"She's still alive?"
"Word is she's still in a coma at the hospital. I'll have to visit her this afternoon. In fact, thank you for reminding me. I'll go now. We can do this later."
"But..."
"I'll be back," he said. He took off his tie and wrapped it twice around my face, over my mouth, to make a makeshift gag. "I never did like this tie, anyway. Don't go anywhere," he added, then chuckled at his own bad joke. As I recoiled at the taste of his dirty tie in my mouth, he left the conference room and hurried down the hallway.
I had to warn Ted.
But how?
25
I quickly took stock of my situation. My hands were bound behind my back and my feet were tied together. My phone was long gone. And with a gag in my mouth, I couldn't talk even if I could figure out how to find a phone and somehow manage to dial it.
I had only one option that I could see.
Channel my inner gymnast.
I didn't have much time; the hospital was only a few blocks away, and it would only take a minute or two with a pillow to end Kirsten's writing career prematurely.
I took a deep breath and tried to relax my body, then swung my legs over the edge of the filing cabinet. The cabinet was too tall for my feet to reach the floor, so I shimmied over to the edge and then dropped, almost losing my balance and falling face first; I hopped wildly, lurching forward, until my shoulder hit the wall. Slowly, with little hops, I got myself into a standing position, then hopped over to the conference room door, praying he hadn't locked it.
He had, of course.
I turned around and hopped over to the window facing the alley beside the office and pressed myself up against the glass, searching for a passerby who would make eye contact. Unfortunately, nobody was in the alley. A cat wandered by and gave me a slitty-eyed look, then sat down and began to clean its back legs. I groaned. How was I going to get someone to see me?
I started shoving my shoulder at the glass, hoping I could break it. I'd hop back a few steps and then hurl myself at it. The glass thumped, but nothing else happened. On the third try, I managed to fall over; I had to inch back to the window and get my feet underneath me, then slide back up so that I was standing.
Time was running short; it had already been ten minutes. Was Scooter already at Kirsten's bedside with a pillow in his hand?
I couldn't wait any longer.
I backed up further, and with all my strength, hurled myself at the glass window.
This time, I didn't bounce back.
The glass shattered as I hit it and I hurtled to the pavement, landing hard on my shoulder. I yelped with pain from behind the gag.
There were footsteps, and a young couple stood over me, both holding coffee cups from Sea Beans; they must have been walking by the mouth of the alley when I fell through the window
"Are you okay, Miss?"
I made a few squeaking sounds, eyes bulging.
"She can't talk with the gag on, Mike," the young woman said. She handed her coffee to her friend, squatted down and unwrapped the tie from around my head. "Who did this to you?" she asked.
"Do you have a phone?" I gasped.
"Of course," she said, as if I'd asked her if she had lungs. "It's right here. Let me untie you first."
"First call this number for me and put it on speaker, okay?"
"What? Why? You're bleeding! We need to get you to a hospital!"
I looked down to where a small puddle of blood was gathering on the pavement under my arm; I'd gashed it on the broken glass. My hip wasn't feeling terrific, either... nor was my head. "Please. I'll explain in a minute; there's no time." As I dictated Ted's number, she dialed it in. I prayed that Ted would pick it up; after the third ring, he did.
"Ted, it's
