“What about the note.” I should have shut my mouth and got out of there, but I had to know.
He blinked at me through the thick lenses of his glasses, totally confused. “Note? Oh, you mean the one I left for you on your car. Stroke of genius, though you were too stupid to heed my warning.”
“So, it was you. But I didn’t see you anywhere.”
He actually giggled. “I drove by my house and saw you poking around, so I parked down the hill and walked back. It was just a warning. I didn’t want to hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.” He glared at me. “Unfortunately, you really can’t take a hint. I’m sorry about bashing your head, by the way.”
“Right. You didn’t want to.”
“Exactly. I needed to get that journal in case August doctored it in his attempt to frame me.”
“I totally understand. I guess you’re right. I can’t prove anything, so I’ll be going now.” I tried to skirt around him, but he grabbed my arm in a bruising grip.
“What is that?” he snarled, looking down.
“What?” I tried to act innocent, but I was shaking as he snatched my phone from my hand.
“You recorded me?” he screamed, spittle flying everywhere. He threw my phone against the wall, smashing it to bits. “Now I have to kill you, you stupid girl.”
“Wait!” But it was too late. He lifted the knife and swung it toward my heart. I barely managed to dodge out of the way, ripping my arm from his grip in the nick of time.
Without a backward glance, I ran like crazy for the study door. I could hear Roger breathing heavily behind me as he chased me. In the dark hall, I could barely make out anything. I tripped over an edge of carpet and went sprawling on my face. He was on me in a moment.
I rolled just in time to avoid a knife in the eyeball as the blade sliced down next to my head and buried itself in the floorboards. I kicked out, connecting solidly as he let out a grunt and staggered backward. I scrambled to my feet and was off running again.
Upstairs were several displays cordoned off by ropes. If I could get there, I could knock him down and tie him up. Then call the police. As plans went, it wasn’t a great one, but it was all I had.
I took the stairs two at a time, my breath coming in short pants. Roger was hot on my heels, his feet thumping heavily on the steps.
I dashed into the room and snagged the nearest object. It was a large, porcelain vase. The idea of destroying it made me sick, but there was no other choice. The minute Roger rounded the corner, I bashed him over the head. The vase exploded, shooting shards across the room. He went down like a sack of potatoes. I kicked his knife away and untied a length of rope from across a nearby doorway.
Perching on top him, I yanked both of his arms behind him and tied them as tightly as I could. I was in the process of searching his pockets for a phone when the front door of the mansion flew open and shouts of “Astoria PD” echoed through the old house. Booted feet tromped up the steps, and a bright light pierced my vision.
“Viola?”
“Hey, Detective. Got your murderer all trussed up and ready to go. Also, I think you owe me an apology.”
Chapter 24Speak of the Devil
“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT was Roger all along.” Mrs. Nixon was sat daintily on a barstool while Nina poured her a large glass of Syrah. “He always seemed like such a gentleman.”
“Still waters run deep,” Nina said with a shake of her head. Light caught the rubies in her ears and sent sparks of red light dancing across the wall behind her.
“I’m not certain that the saying refers to murder, dear,” Mrs. Nixon said gently.
“Probably not,” Nina admitted.
“Your friend Portia will be released, won’t she?” Mary turned to me, worry lurking behind her eyes.
“Oh, yes. Fortunately, Roger’s confession was stored in my cloud, so busting my phone didn’t do him any good. Detective Battersea assures me she’ll appear before a judge first thing in the morning, the district attorney will drop the charges, and she’ll be out straight after that.”
“What a relief. I hate to think of that poor innocent girl in a place like that.”
“What’s going to happen to the museum, I wonder?” Cheryl asked, nursing her own glass of cab. “Both the directors are either dead or in jail.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Nina assured her, leaning one hip against the bar. “The historical society will take care of it. Likely Portia will get a promotion.”
Portia would be happy about that. She loved the museum. It would be her total dream job. And it might soothe the hurt over Blaine cheating on her. The Louse. Like father like son. She’d better dump that loser, or I was going to have to give her a talking to.
“I heard Lucas gave you a lecture,” Nina said with a grin.
I glared at Cheryl. Blabbermouth. “Yeah, he was kind of pissed off I put myself in danger again. I guess he wanted me to wait for him to help. But I totally had everything under control.”
“Sure,” the other three women said in unison. “What? I did.”
The bell above the door chimed, and in strode none other than Detective Battersea. Speak of the devil. Not that we had been. I just liked calling him the devil.
“Ladies,” he said, his voice low like he was trying to be sexy or macho or something.
The ladies simpered back in an annoying manner. I rolled my eyes.
“I guess Viola shared the story of how we found the murderer,”
