CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Lisa shrieks, and Marcus releases an oath. “Shit. I told you the maid would still be here.”

“What are you doing here?” Evelyn repeats. “Lisa? I thought you were missing.”

Lisa laughs nervously. “Why would you think that?”

“Someone trashed your apartment. Badly. The police thought you were kidnapped.”

“What? That’s so weird. I mean, I haven’t been home yet since I got back from visiting my sister, but… oh my God. Was I robbed? Did someone break in?”

“I… I guess so,” Evelyn says warily. “Why are you here so early?”

“We’re picking up the last of Victor’s artwork,” Lisa explains. “Marcus and I are going to sell them in his gallery. He opens at nine, and we want everything ready for display by then. We’re going to use the money to help Celeste. The poor dear. How is she?”

“She… she’s not here. She ran away.”

Lisa gasps. “Oh my goodness! Why? What happened?”

My blood boils at Lisa’s lies. I’m beginning to wish I’d allowed Celeste to attack her.

Unfortunately, Evelyn seems to be falling for it. “The social worker came here to take her to her grandparents. She didn’t want to go. Mary tried to calm her down, but when she went outside to talk to the social worker, Celeste freaked out again. I tried to stop her, but she knocked me down and ran away. Mary went looking for her, but she had already gotten away.”

Damn it, where are the police? I open my phone to dial nine-one-one. Instead, I find the battery dead. I nearly scream in frustration. I’ve been so out of it that I’ve forgotten to charge it.

"That's horrible!" Lisa says. She sighs. "Oh, it's just awful! I was worried something like this would happen. I love Victor like a brother, but he's been so depressed lately. He's never been the most stable of individuals to begin with, but with his depression getting worse and what with all of the trouble he's had with his latest series, I worried he might snap and hurt himself." She sighs again. "I wish I had stepped in and gotten him help before it was too late. Or at least take Celeste somewhere safe."

“Well, we’ll make sure this money goes to her somehow,” Marcus added. “We can start a foundation for them. Maybe use it to research undiagnosed familial mental health issues.”

“Yes. What a wonderful idea, Marcus.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence. Then Lisa asks, “Um… would you mind? These paintings are heavy, and we’re trying to get them to the van.”

After another pause, Evelyn says, “Sure. All right. Do you need help with them?”

"Oh, no, thank you. We can handle it."

Still no police. No sirens within earshot. I curse softly and step out from behind the statue. Lisa and Marcus are carefully maneuvering a stack of paintings around a perplexed Evelyn.

“Stop!” I cry.

Lisa shrieks and drops her end of the painting. I hear a frame crack, and Marcus curses.

“Evelyn, close the door,” I say to the equally shocked maid. “These two are lying. Lisa faked her own kidnapping, and Marcus hired a hitman to kill Victor.”

Evelyn gasps, and Lisa and Marcus go white as sheets.

“It’s true,” I insist. “They’re stealing Victor’s artwork to sell to a dealer in San Diego. They owe money to a loan shark, and they’re trying to pay him off so they can go to Costa Rica and flee their debts.”

Lisa laughs, a sound that reminds me of nails falling onto aluminum sheeting. “That’s insane! What the…” she laughs again. “My, what an active imagination you have.”

“It’s not imagination,” I tell her. “I sent the police video recording of you two talking about your plan five minutes ago.”

Lisa’s forced smile vanishes. Marcus glances nervously at her. Evelyn looks between us, and the expression on Lisa’s face convinces her of the truth. She gasps and takes a step away from them. Her hand comes to her mouth, and she whispers, “Oh my God.”

“You’re lying,” Lisa says.

“No. I’m not. I was in your apartment earlier. I heard you and Marcus talking, and I followed you here. I called the police. They’ll be here any minute.”

It’s not exactly the truth, but I need them to think they’re in danger. It seems to work. Lisa pales a shade further and says, “Marcus, lock the door.”

Evelyn cries out and rushes for the door. Lisa catches her, and with a snarl, throws her against the kitchen counter. The back of Evelyn’s head hits the counter, and she collapses to the floor. I cry out and stare at her in horror as Marcus locks the door.

Lisa points a finger at me and hisses. “This is your fault! You meddling… Why were you in my apartment?”

“I needed to know,” I tell her, still shocked by the violence I’ve just witnessed. “I needed to know what happened.”

“How did you guess that I was… how did…”

She presses her lips together and doesn’t finish her question. I reply anyway. “I didn’t know. I thought you and Victor might have been conspiring together to flee the country. I thought you might be lovers.”

Marcus chuckles at that, but his smile fades when Lisa doesn’t laugh. Her lip trembles slightly, but then she gets control of herself. “We might have been. But I was never pretty enough for Victor. First there was that blonde girl Elias shacked up with, then there was Julia. Both pretty, stupid and submissive. Just like Victor likes. Never mind that I’m the only reason he’s not selling caricatures on a boardwalk in Venice and living in a porta-potty.”

I should be focused on the imminent danger I’m facing, but my curiosity overwhelms me. “Who was that blonde girl?” I ask. “The one Elias Blackwood was living with. Did she ever give you her name?”

Lisa laughs. “I don’t remember. God, that was thirty years ago. Besides, she was Elias’s squeeze, not Victor’s. He just thought she was pretty.”

When I realize I’ll learn nothing more about Annie from her, reason reasserts itself. I need to keep them talking. I need to keep them here and keep myself alive until the police arrive. “So you’re angry at Victor for never returning your affection?”

"Oh, please. I got over him twenty years ago. Artists are irresistible to girls because they're soft and sensitive, and they worship beauty the way addicts worship needles. Then, we grow up to be women and realize that men become artists when they don't have the maturity or the emotional stability to be anything else. I'll make money off of them, but I would never marry one."

“So you two are together now?” I ask.

This time, Marcus laughs. “Hell no. She’s fifteen years older than me.”

Lisa gives him a venomous look. It might behoove Marcus to remember who he’s dealing with. Then again, he’s no better than she is. In a way, they’re perfect for each other.

“You can’t actually believe you’ll get away with this. Do you think those paintings will sell enough to pay Rizzo.”

Lisa flinches at the mention of his name. “God, you really were at my apartment. What the hell… you’re my age! What are you doing snooping around trying to solve mysteries?”

“I’m trying to find justice for an innocent girl whose father was taken from her because of the selfishness of a woman who thinks the man who jilted her owes her a rescue from her own poor decisions.”

Lisa flinches again. Her face turns ugly. “Marcus, kill her.”

I pale, but Marcus doesn’t move. He looks at Lisa and says, “Really? Shouldn’t we just leave? I mean, you already killed the maid. We’re getting into this really deep.”

“She’s the only other person who knows about the plan,” he reminds her. “Kill her, and there will be no one to tell on us.”

“The police know too,” I reminded her. “I sent them evidence.”

“I don’t believe you. If you’d sent anything, they’d be here right now.”

Marcus still hesitates, so Lisa says, “Oh for God’s sake. Whatever happened to the men of the world? Fine. I’ll kill her.”

She stalks into the kitchen and pulls a knife from the block on the counter. I cry out and rush toward the stairwell, but Marcus is over his hesitation now. He grabs me and throws me back onto the ground. I get to my feet and see both of them stalking towards me, blocking both the stairwell and the front door.

I run back into the living room, narrowly avoiding a grab from Marcus. They move toward me, trying to cut me off again. Marcus heads inward, away from the staircase, while Lisa stalks me like a cat, heading straight forward.

I wait for my moment, then feint toward Lisa. She stabs at me, and I grab her wrist, then shove with my other hand. She stumbles, and I rush for the front door.

I make it two steps when I feel lightning strike my left leg. I shriek and turn around to see Lisa drawing her knife back for another swing. Marcus barrels around her toward me. On instinct, I grab the bannister and pull myself up the stairs.

Tears stream down my face as I run up the stairs. For Heaven’s sake, where are the police? What could be taking them so long?

Despite the injury to my leg, I manage to remain ahead of them, but when I reach Victor’s studio, I realize I have nowhere to go. I’ve backed myself into a corner. I look around wildly for something to defend myself and pick up a shard of glass. It’s a poor weapon, but I have no other choice.

As I pick the glass up, I see a note on the ground. It’s in Celeste’s handwriting. I can only read part of it. The part that I can see reads second inlet.

Before I can wonder what that means, the door bursts open, and Marcus and Lisa rush inside. Lisa cackles madly. “You idiot. You’ve boxed yourself in.”

“Don’t stab her,” Marcus says. “Let me push her through the window. Then we can say she fell by accident.”

“It won’t really matter with the maid’s body in the living room,” Lisa says drily.

"Yes, it does. The police are already looking at her. They'll think she was up to no good, and Evelyn tried to stop her, so she offed her, then fell to her doom when she was looking for something up here."

Lisa sighed. “Whatever. Just do it quickly. The sun’s already up, and if this bitch hasn’t called the police yet, someone will soon.”

“Fine,” Marcus says.

He begins moving toward me, and I lift the glass. “Stay back!” I cry. “I’ll kill you!”

He chuckles. “Cute.”

Then, with one swipe of his fat paw, he smacks the glass from my hand. It shatters on the ground, leaving nothing between me and the man who intends to kill me.

And that’s when I finally hear sirens.