Dying in Style (30 page)

“According to Mrs. Perkins, the police said your husband bled to death.”

“He was dead, I tell you. I know what death looks like. You Americans do not know about death and destruction.”

“Dead people don’t bleed,” Josie said. “And I haven’t heard that the police found any bloody fingerprints or footprints near the body.”

“You think I killed him, fool?”

“No, I think you let him die. I think you were angry with him because he was unfaithful with so many women. It was just an impulse to let him lie there and bleed to death.”

Marina had gone a peculiar gray. Her breathing was shallow and she was sweating. Did guilt do that to her?

“I do not have your silly American views about marriage,” Marina said. “I am a woman of the world. I knew Serge must go with these other women for his image. I knew he had to marry one to stay in this country. I was lucky. If there was a problem I could disappear and immigration would never find me. But Serge was not what you call low profile. He would be easy to find. He had to marry an American to save himself.”

Her eyes shifted. She was lying again. A few minutes ago, she’d said she wanted Serge to take the money and run away with her.

“He didn’t have to have affairs with everyone who wore a skirt,” Josie said. “He didn’t have to fall in love with Kate.”

“Serge did not love her.” Marina’s rage ignited again. “He only thought he did. He would tire of her soon enough. He liked women of spirit. Kate was boring. He would have come back to me.”

Come back. So Marina knew he had left. She was so pale, Josie was afraid Marina might pass out. Yet she seemed compelled to make her terrible confession. Keep her talking, she thought. You have one more murder to clear up. Josie prayed her phone was still recording. Marina’s revelations might have melted it by now.

“Olga,” Josie said. “What about Olga? She was blackmailing you, wasn’t she?”

“Danessa ordered her to clean the store after she got your report. Olga did everything but reassemble the snakeskin belt display. She was not clever with her hands. Olga said you made her take the display apart. That was petty of you. It takes an hour to set up that display.”

“I’m sorry,” Josie said. She was, too. She would have never been mixed up in a murder if she hadn’t insisted on trying on that silly snake belt.

A mother with twins in a sports stroller raced by. Josie was glad the mom moved so quickly. She didn’t think this conversation was fit for infant ears.

Marina shrugged. “I liked it that Olga had to work for a change. She put the belt in the back room. Danessa was going to do the new display herself. After she killed Serge—”

Marina would not admit that she’d made a mistake and killed Danessa for no reason. She looked at Josie, daring her to say something.

“After Danessa killed Serge,” Marina repeated, “I could not let her live. I left the house, driving like a madwoman. Why I was not stopped by the police, I cannot say. It was nine thirty. I told Olga to go home early. She took her purse out from under the counter and left without another word. There was no one on the floor. I went into the stockroom. Danessa was unpacking a shipment from Prada. I had on gloves. I planned to strangle her with my hands. But when I saw the snakeskin belt, I knew it was meant for her. Her death was not as quick as Serge’s, or as painless.”

Marina gave her death’s head smile and Josie’s stomach twisted in terror. I am sitting with a double murderer—maybe a triple killer—in a shopping mall. All I have is a cell phone to save me. Mom is listening in. She’ll be frantic.

Marina started talking again. She couldn’t resist telling Josie how clever she was. Marina wasn’t a loser duped by an unfaithful husband. She was a criminal master-mind. “Olga knew, or guessed, what I had done. She blackmailed me. At first, I could pay her. She only wanted her rent money. But then she got greedy. She was tired of that dingy city apartment. She missed Danessa’s mansion. She wanted a palace of her own. She asked for more money. She said she would go to the police and collect a reward for finding Serge and Danessa’s killer. The reward was twenty-five thousand dollars. She wanted me to give her fifty thousand. Instead, I disappeared. I did not tell my friends or family where I was. Russians are good at hiding. If Olga had left me alone, she would still be alive. It was not my fault I had to kill her.

“Olga went to my old grandmother with some flyers she’d made, saying I was a missing person. My grandmother was worried about me. She thought Olga was a friend, trying to help. They put the flyers all over the neighborhood. I had to do something then. Someone would find me and turn me in.”

“So you shot Olga,” Josie said.

“I made it look like a break-in, except the police did not believe that. I moved in with my old grandmother, but I still had to keep out of sight. I could not even attend my Serge’s funeral. I am the widow. But I cannot mourn my husband after that woman killed him.”

“Danessa didn’t kill him,” Josie said. “Serge killed himself. And you killed her for nothing.”

“Liar!” Marina said. “Liar, liar, liar—” Her voice was cut off by a terrible choking wheeze. “My inhaler. Please. I need my inhaler.”

She was scrabbling for her purse, but her fingers didn’t seem to work. They moved helplessly around on the bench like lost creatures.

“I’ll get help.” Josie was afraid Marina might die right there.

“No. Inhaler. In purse.” Marina’s voice was a horrible gurgle.

Josie popped the purse open.

Suddenly Marina’s fingers were swift and strong. She reached in, grabbed the black cylinder and aimed it at Josie’s face.

Josie could smell the pungent odor.

Pepper spray, she thought, as Marina pressed the nozzle.

Chapter 30

Josie felt like her hair was on fire. She wanted to claw her head off.

She’d ducked just before Marina let loose the burst of pepper spray. Josie caught most of it on her scalp, but a tiny drop hit the corner of her mouth. Now her lips and tongue burned like she’d eaten a million Mexican dinners. Josie was afraid to open her eyes. If they filled with stinging pepper spray, she would be blinded.

I’m letting a killer get away, Josie thought. But she couldn’t chase Marina through the mall. She wanted to rip off her scalp. Josie had to stop the searing pain or she’d go crazy.

Water. Water would wash away her agony.

Josie, eyes still closed, felt blindly for the fountain. Her hands found the rough clay pots lining its rim. She shoved the bronze mums out of her way. The flowers toppled to the marble floor with a terrible clatter. Maybe the noise would bring help. Josie could smell the plants’ bitter scent even over the pungent pepper spray.

She knelt down and plunged her burning head into the fountain. Ahh. Relief. The water felt icy cold. The flames on her scalp settled into a slow, bearable sizzle. She rubbed a handful of moist dirt on her head. It was a soothing poultice, absorbing the burn. Better and better. Josie slowly opened her eyes in the water. They didn’t sting. She could see. She wanted to shout her relief. She wasn’t blinded by the pepper spray.

Josie felt long, strong hands on her back and neck. Help had arrived.

Then those same hands shoved her head under water and Josie’s stomach lurched. It wasn’t help. It was Marina. The Russian giant was trying to drown her. Marina wasn’t going to run away—not until Josie was dead.

I know too much, Josie thought. She has to kill me. And I’ve made it easy for her.

Josie thrashed and kicked at her attacker. She got her head up out of the fountain, choking and spewing water, taking in great lungfuls of air. But before she could fight all the way free, Marina plunged Josie’s head back under the water, then landed on her body, slamming it against the hard marble edge of the fountain. Josie’s chest felt crushed and she was momentarily dazed.

She tried to rake her nails along Marina’s arm, but it was protected by her sweater. Josie fought and gasped and swallowed half the fountain. Sometimes she could thrust her head above the water for a quick, painful breath, but Marina shoved her back under. The big, muscular woman weighed a good thirty pounds more than Josie.

Josie’s lungs were bursting and black dots danced before her eyes. When those dots completely filled her vision, she would die.

Free. She had to break free. But Josie was so tired. All she wanted to do was—

See her daughter again. Amelia, with her sweet cinnamon sprinkle of freckles. Josie had to survive. She had to see her daughter grow up. No one was going to take that from her. Josie fought her way to the surface once again, breathing in great gulps of air. They burned her lungs, but they felt good.

Why wasn’t anyone stopping Marina? Couldn’t they see she was trying to drown a customer? Why weren’t shocked shoppers calling 911? Josie wasn’t sure how long she could hold on. Marina was going to force her head under the water again.

Josie’s hands scrambled frantically for a weapon to break Marina’s hold. In the mum muck around the fountain, she found a long, sharp shard of clay pot. She thrust it like a red dagger into Marina’s foot. The Russian wasn’t wearing stockings, and the shard knifed through her bare skin. Josie’s anger gave her the strength to push it in deeper. She thought of her orphaned daughter and twisted it.

Marina shrieked. Surely that scream would bring some help.

Josie broke free from Marina at last, rolling away from the nearly fatal fountain. She sat up, breathing heavily, painfully. She pulled herself up by the bench. Help. She had to get help. Now was her chance. Marina seemed momentarily stunned. Blood spurted from her foot. She started hobbling away from Josie, but slipped on the wet, muddy marble floor, and belly flopped. Josie’s slick leather-soled shoes slid out from under her and she landed on Marina with a loud “Oof!”

Josie’s arms flew straight out from her sides. Her left hand felt something leathery and familiar. The strap of her Coach bag. The all-purpose weapon. Josie swung her heavy purse like a bolo and hit Marina’s head with a solid
thwack
. Marina grunted and then lay still.

Josie looked into her attacker’s face. Marina’s eyes were closed. She was out cold.

Good. Josie sat up on Marina’s broad back and wiped her streaming eyes with her wet blouse. All that did was smear more mud around her face. At least her head wasn’t burning any more from the pepper spray. She blinked and regarded the fountain area through bleary eyes. It was a welter of mum mud and water. But no shoppers were around. No moms with cell phones and baby strollers. No power-suited executives slipping out on their lunch hour. No ladies who lunched and called 911.

Did they close the mall? Was Josie invisible? How long had she and Marina been wrestling in the fountain? It seemed like years, but it might have been only a minute. Rational time lost all meaning when you were fighting for your life.

“Help!” Josie called. “Help me!”

“Yiiiii!” Marina screamed and leaped to new life. She was now an electric, writhing creature who twisted and turned. She bucked Josie off her back, then rose up to her full height, like some movie monster crawling from an open grave. Marina’s blond hair stood out in crazy wet clumps. Her face was dark with dirt and rage. Her chic black clothes were torn and streaked with mud.

Weirdest of all, her dainty little Danessa purse dangled down her front, like a name-tag holder on a conventioneer.

If Marina realizes she still has that purse, she’ll shoot me with her pepper spray again, Josie thought. And this time I won’t be so lucky.

But Marina wasn’t thinking. She wasn’t even human. There was a wild light in her eyes. Her lips were drawn back in a cruel snarl.

“You!” she said, and pulled Josie up by the collar. Josie could hear her blouse rip. Marina’s hand hooked around Josie’s wrist like a steel cuff, and she dragged her toward the back stairs. Josie slid along behind Marina in her slippery leather-soled shoes, unable to stop. She swung her heavy Coach bag at Marina’s back, but it bounced off the woman as though she were made of kryptonite.

Marina threw Josie against the back staircase like a load of dirty laundry, knocking the breath out of her. Then Marina reached down, grabbed both of Josie’s feet and started to tip her over the rail. Somebody has to see us, Josie thought.

Josie screamed and clung to the rail. She slammed her feet against Marina, but it made no difference. Marina was a woman in an altered state. No matter how hard Josie kicked and punched, the Russian would not stop.

The world tilted, and Josie saw the marble mall floor rush up at her, then the ceiling with its bowl-shaped Venetian glass chandeliers. Josie tried to strike out at Marina, but it only sent her tipping farther over the rail. Her attacker’s strength seemed to double magically.

Josie looked down and saw her body hanging more than halfway over the rail. Panic flooded her, then fierce determination. She clung to the rail with all her strength. I’m not going over, she thought. I cannot die. I will not die. But as she tilted out over the mall floor, she thought, I will not die alone.

Josie swung her body back and hooked her hands onto Marina’s waistband, hoping that could pull her to safety. Marina gave one more crazed cry and pushed Josie as hard as she could.

Josie could feel herself going over the rail’s edge. She dragged her attacker along with her. They tumbled over.

She let go of Marina, her arms windmilling wildly. Then one hand caught a brass spear that held the CELEBRATE FALL IN PLAZA VENETIA STYLE banner.

My fall, Josie thought.

She hung by one hand. Then she heaved her other hand up. Now both clutched the brass standard. It bowed ominously. She dangled fifty feet above the marble mall floor. Her hands were slippery with sweat and mud. Her arms ached. Her battered ribs screamed their pain. But Josie heard only a dreadful stillness as she looked down at the hard mall floor two stories below. If she fell, she would be a bag of broken bones.

Josie couldn’t see Marina’s shattered body on the floor. Then she realized the Russian was hanging on another banner standard, five feet away. Josie’s pole gave a harsh, horrible creak, and lurched downward. The top had pulled out of the wall. Five brass toggle bolts were all there was between Josie and death.