Deadly Sting

I pushed away from the bar, walked out of the office, and headed toward the front door. My steps were light, and I whistled a soft, cheery tune, idly wondering how long it would take McAllister to come after me—

Ten seconds later, footsteps smacked into the floor behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. The lawyer had left the office and stopped in the middle of the hallway.

“What are you doing?” he called out, his voice high with surprise and puzzlement.

“What does it look like?” I said. “I’m leaving.”

Silence. Then—

“You—you’re just leaving? You’re not going to kill me?”

I reached the front door, threw back the lock, and put my hand on the knob. I looked over my shoulder at him once again. “No, Jonah. I’m not going to kill you. Not tonight, not tomorrow, I’ll even be generous and say not even this month.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why? What are you up to?”

I gave him my most innocent grin. “I’m not up to anything, Jonah. You’re the one who’s been plotting, scheming, and embezzling this whole time. Not me. I think we can both agree that you’ve been a bad, bad boy. And now you’re going to be punished for it.”

His eyes narrowed some more. “What did you do?”

I shrugged. “Nothing much. Just told the cops all about your little scheme to rob the museum. Well, really just two cops, but they’re good ones. Why, with all the information I gave them, I imagine that they’re waiting right outside this very door, as eager as can be to come on in and arrest you. Shall we see?”

Before he could protest, I turned the knob and opened the door. Bria and Xavier stood outside. Behind them, their sedan sat in the driveway, the blue and white lights winking on and off in the darkness. I nodded at them and stepped to one side so they could enter.

“Why, look. Here they are. Right on time.”

“The police? Please.” McAllister sneered. “Do you know how many of those crooked bastards I’ve bribed over the years?”

“Of course I do,” I replied. “So that’s why I sent the information to all the local news media too. Anonymously, of course. Just for kicks.”

“But—but why would you . . .” His voice trailed off as he thought about things. After a few seconds, shock and surprise filled his eyes, along with horror.

I walked back over to him so that we were standing face-to-face. “You see, Jonah, I could have killed you easily. But sticking my knife in your gut would have been a quick death—and far too good for the likes of you. So, in the end, I decided on a different punishment.”

“And what would that be?” he asked in a wavering voice.

“To watch you suffer,” I snarled. “You’ve spent the last few months planning how to take me out. You started back at Mab’s funeral, when you hired those dwarves to try to kill me at her coffin. They failed, but you still managed to set me up as a target for every wannabe criminal in town. You painted a great big bull’s-eye on my back, so I decided to return the favor and paint one on yours. What do you think will happen when all the crime bosses realize that you tried to rob them? Do you really think they’ll let something like that just slide?”

I clucked my tongue in false sympathy. “Really, Jonah. You should know the answer to that as well as I do.”

“They’ll come after me,” he whispered. “All of them. They’ll all come after me.”

I leaned forward, so he could see just how cold and wintry my gray eyes were. “Every . . . last . . . one.”

McAllister kept staring at me, that horrified expression still on his face. Such a lovely, lovely sight.

“Now you know how I’ve felt these past few months. But you’re exactly right. All the crime bosses will come after you—or send some of their goons to do the job for them.” I paused. “Of course, this is assuming that Mab’s mysterious heir doesn’t get you first for cheating him or her. Either way, you’re dead, Jonah. The only question is how long you can keep your head above water before one of the underworld sharks drags you under and gobbles you up. You know, it’s probably a good thing you embezzled all of that money from Mab. You’re going to need it. That might keep the sharks at bay, for a while.”

McAllister choked, coughed, and sputtered for a few seconds before he finally got his voice back. “You won’t get away with this. I’m Jonah McAllister! Nobody messes with me! Nobody!”

I shook my head. “Good luck with that. If I were you, I’d start working on your obituary. I’m looking forward to reading it in the newspaper real soon. Good-bye, Jonah.”

Bria stepped forward, a pair of silverstone handcuffs in her hands. “Jonah McAllister, you’re under arrest for the murder of Jillian Delancey, the attempted robbery of the Briartop museum and its visitors, and many, many other things. You have the right to remain silent . . .”

Xavier put a hand on McAllister’s shoulder, holding him in place while Bria read the lawyer his rights, pulled his hands behind his back, and clinked the cuffs on his wrists. But McAllister ignored them and glared at me.

“You won’t get away with this!” he hissed. “I’m the best lawyer this town has ever seen! I’ll find a way to beat the charges! You know I will!”

“You’re exactly right. I have no doubt that you’ll find some way to wiggle out from underneath the long arm of the law,” I said. “But I don’t think even you can weasel away from every bad guy in town who’ll be screaming for your blood. Enjoy the rest of your short, short life, Jonah.”

I turned and headed toward the front door once again.

“Blanco! You can’t do this to me! Blanco! Blanco!”

I grinned and walked outside, McAllister’s screams ringing in my ears like the sweetest symphony.

* * *

I ambled down the driveway, through the open gate, and across the street. I opened the door on an Aston Martin parked at the curb and slid into the passenger’s seat.

“How did it go?” Finn asked. “Did he cry? Please, please, please tell me that he cried. Or at least begged for his life.”

“You should know,” I replied. “You were listening.”

I reached into a pocket on my vest and pulled out the digital recorder and microphone than Finn had outfitted me with. He took the device and plugged it into his laptop.

“Of course I was listening—and watching too, thanks to that spy camera we added to your vest,” he said. “But I wanted to get your eye-witness take on things.”

I rolled my eyes, but I watched as Finn checked that both the sound and the video recordings were okay and made several backup copies of them.

“I wonder if McAllister realized that you were getting him to confess for Bria,” Finn said.

I shrugged. “Doesn’t much matter now, since he sang his heart out.”

That had been the plan I’d worked out with Finn, my sister, and Xavier. I’d told the two cops all about my suspicions that McAllister had hired Clementine and her crew and the information that Finn had dug up on the lawyer’s embezzlement. But Bria had pointed out that she couldn’t use any of the information—not legally—so I’d decided to get McAllister to confess to the whole scheme for her. That’s why I’d broken into his house and confronted him tonight, and it had worked like a charm. Bria got to close the museum case, and I got to feed McAllister to the wolves. Win-win and then some.

Finn looked at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind? Maybe you should have just killed him after all.”

“Maybe,” I said, leaning forward so I could stare past him out the driver’s-side window.

Across the street, Bria perp-walked McAllister out of his fancy house and handed him off to Xavier, who stuffed the lawyer into the back of their sedan. McAllister was still screaming, although his voice was muffled at this distance.

Finn turned his head to watch the show. His grin matched the one that stretched across my face. We sat there until Bria started the sedan, and she and Xavier steered out of the driveway. Finn cranked the engine on his car and fell in line behind them. It was after one in the morning now, and the streets were quiet as we cruised over to the station.

“Well, that was certainly satisfying to watch,” Finn admitted. “But I still think you should have just gone