Farmed and Dangerous (23 page)

P
ete had been right about Richard.
Now what?
Cam's breath came fast. The pulse in her neck beat even faster.

“Calm down.” Pete held both hands up, with his palms out in front of his chest. He spoke in a low, calm voice. “Put the weapon down and let's talk.”

“Nah, I don't think so.” Richard's grin was demoniac. “Get your hands up. Straight up, or your girlfriend is going to turn out just like Tosca herself. You, too, Flaherty.”

He stood only two yards away. Cam could smell him as she raised her hands above her head: stale smoke mixed with coffee and dirt. What she didn't sense was fear. Except from herself. She'd seen
Tosca
with Great-Aunt Marie. The opera where Tosca famously ends up dead. How were they going to get out of this mess?

Pete dropped the leash and slowly pushed his hands into the air. He glanced at Cam and then at Richard. “So what's this all about?”

“I came over to see Flaherty. Rosemary told me she'd been blabbing about living with me and making jewelry. The woman never could keep her lousy mouth shut. I figured it wouldn't be long before Ms. Computer Programmer here put it all together.”

“Put what together?” Cam demanded. She tried without success to keep her voice from shaking. The gun Richard pointed was a big one. A gun he knew how to use from his sharpshooter days.

“You know. Who has access to cyanide. Hearing about the will. Me convincing my girlfriend to add a bit of her precious cyanide salts to Bev's dinner made with your produce. The airhead named Rosemary would do anything for me. Calls it love.” He snorted. “And I couldn't risk Cam telling anybody else, especially you, Pappas. But since you're with her, you're a nice little bonus for me.”

“Why did you need to kill Bev now?” Pete stared at Richard. “She'd already left you the land in her will.”

“Yeah. You know what a tough bird Bev was? She wasn't going to croak for another couple decades. Out of sheer orneriness, if nothing else. And I happen to have some debts that just couldn't wait. Rosemary would have been nailed for it if she hadn't started talking.”

“How did you get in without us hearing you?” Cam asked.

“Let's say I'm experienced.” Richard waggled his eyebrows.

Cam watched his bravado. He'd been a master of bluff since she'd met him. He wouldn't kill both of them. Anyway, Pete's gun was under his coat. If she could get Richard's weapon away from him, Pete could shoot him in the leg or something. But how could she get the gun?
Think, Flaherty. Think.
She swallowed hard.

“We received a report of a shooting at your house right before you drove off,” Pete said.

“Oh, I know. I saw my nosy neighbor staring at the house with her phone to her ear.” Richard flicked a piece of straw off his gun arm.

Which was in a red sleeve. The threads Cam had found. It was Richard who'd trapped her.

“Did you kill Rosemary Contini?” Pete asked.

“What happened or didn't happen is none of your business.”

“It's actually very much my business.” Pete smiled.

“It won't be in a few minutes,” Richard spat out. His bonhomie from a moment ago had been replaced by a mouth that had tasted bitter fruits.

“You locked me in my root cellar.” Cam stared at him.

“You were asking too many questions,” he said with vitriol. “Thought it'd be good to get you out of circulation for a while. Not long enough, as it turned out.”

Dasha stared at Richard and growled, with his ears laid back and flat against his head. Richard lashed out his foot and kicked Dasha, who whined and shrank away.

Cam gasped. “Don't kick him!”

“I'm doing whatever I want. See this?” He waved the gun while still keeping it trained on Pete. “It's my ticket out.”

“You're okay,” Pete said, gazing at the dog. “It's okay, buddy.” He turned to Richard. “Your ticket expired a long time ago, Broadhurst. My department is fully aware of the miserable state of your finances. It's public knowledge that Ms. Contini lived with you. Bev Montgomery changing the disposition of her estate has no chance of standing up in court. Killing us will only make it worse for you. A lot worse.”

“Not if it seems like one of you shot the other. Let's just say Pete accused Cam of murder, and Cam grabbed the gun and shot him, then, in a fit of remorse, turned it on herself. Like I said, just like Tosca, except with the help of a gun.”

“That might work on the stage, but nobody will believe it here. And your firearm isn't exactly a police-issue service revolver.” Pete started to lower his hands.

“Get those hands back up,” Richard barked. “No, this isn't a police weapon. But yours is, isn't it?”

Pete shook his head with a sad look.

“What are you shaking your head for?” Richard asked.

“Not carrying.”

Cam's heart sank. They didn't stand a chance if Pete's gun wasn't in his shoulder holster. Why had he removed it?

“What?” Richard switched the gun to point at Cam. He reached over and felt Pete's sides under his coat. “Where is it, then?”

Pete shook his head again.

“Never mind. I'll figure something out,” Richard said. “Both of you, move out into the barn. I can't think in that little space.”

Cam hesitated. She glanced at Pete, who gave a little nod. They might have a better chance of overcoming Richard out in the open.

Richard waved them through the doorway, first Cam, then Pete. Dasha stayed put, but his gaze didn't waver from Pete.

“And don't try any moves, or I'll blow the closest head off. Could even be Doggy's.”

He prodded them a few feet away, into the corner near the wall where Cam hung her hoes and shovels.

“Don't shoot Dasha, Richard,” she pleaded. “We're cooperating. And he didn't do anything.” Her hands were growing numb from holding them in the air. Her shoulders ached, and her throat thickened with fear. She didn't know how Pete could appear so calm.

“Come on out,” Richard said to Dasha but kept his gaze and the gun on Pete.

Dasha didn't budge. He growled again.

“Call your damn dog,” Richard said in a deep voice, nearly growling himself.

“
Epithesi,
” Pete said in an urgent tone.

Dasha curled himself into a spring. He launched at Richard with bared teeth and a deep, rumbling snarl. His mouth clamped down on Richard's pistol wrist.

“Aii! Let go of me!” Richard yelled.

The gun went off with a blast. Pete cried out. The gun went flying and landed somewhere with a clunk of metal. Dasha swung Richard's arm this way and that, while Richard tried to kick himself free. Pete crumpled to the floor.

Cam yanked at the nearest shovel on the wall, but it wouldn't come off of its hook. She jerked it until it came loose. She shuddered, but she had to do it, and now. She swung it high and smashed the metal head with all her strength into the back of Richard's head. He fell onto his side, and his head hit the floor with a thunk. He didn't move. He was sprawled a few feet from where Pete lay, clutching his left arm with his right hand. Dasha kept Richard's wrist clamped in his mouth and uttered a low, rumbling growl.

Cam tossed the shovel down and knelt next to Pete. His eyes were open, although his face drew in with pain.

“Are you . . . did he . . .” She could barely eke the words out.

“He got my arm.” He gestured with his chin toward the top of his left bicep. He kept his other hand clasped there. Blood seeped out through his fingers.

She tore her phone out of her pocket and pressed 911. She laid her hand aside his face while she waited for them to answer, her eyes hot with tears.
Let him be all right.

“Tie Richard's hands behind him. Turn him onto his front,” he croaked out in a weak voice. “Get rope. Hurry. He could come to.”

Cam rose, pressing the speaker icon on the phone. She laid it on the floor next to Pete and swallowed hard. She had to stay strong. Richard still didn't stir. Dasha had let go of the wrist, but he stood guard over their attacker, his legs slightly splayed, every nerve at attention.

“Good dog, Dasha. Stay right there.” Cam looked more closely at Richard but stayed a few feet away. His chest rose and fell over and over.
Okay. Rope. Twine. Plastic line. Anything. Think, Flaherty.

As she ran to the section of the barn where she kept supplies, she heard Pete give a terse account to the dispatcher. She returned to Richard with a length of clothesline. Standing behind him, with Dasha on the other side, she pushed with her foot and rolled him over onto his front. When she leaned over to draw his hands behind his back, he grabbed her foot with his big, meaty hand and jerked.

She lost her balance and fell backward, landing on her elbows, crying out. Her left elbow stabbed with pain. She yelled and kicked at him, but she couldn't loosen his grip. He pulled her leg toward him. He began to roll over. She brought her other foot up and stomped down on his hand. He jerked her foot once more. This time she succeeded only in stomping her own shin.

“Dasha!” she yelled.

Dasha growled and leapt onto Richard's back. He bit down on the nape of Richard's neck with that deep, rumbling sound again.

Richard screamed. He released Cam's foot. She scooted in reverse on her rear to make sure he couldn't grab her. She scrambled to standing, then grabbed the shovel again. She took aim, raised it over her head, and whacked down on his closest hand, which made a sickening crunch.

He shouted in pain, a loud, high cry that pierced the air. He tried to grab Dasha's leg with his good hand. She hurried around to his other side, giving his feet a wide berth. She took a deep breath and cracked the other hand, wincing at both the act and the obscenities he yelled. Finally, she knelt and brought both his hands, now limp, behind his back, working around Dasha's feet. She used an excessive amount of rope to make sure she tied him up good and tight.

She stood. Pete gave her the tiniest of smiles.

T
he wide barn door slid open two minutes later. Cam glanced sharply up from where she knelt at Pete's side, both hands pressing his wounds. She hadn't heard any sirens. Richard moaned. Dasha growled. He had let go of Richard's neck but kept his front feet on Richard's back.

“Cam? What's going on?” Ellie rushed toward them.

Cam let out a breath.
Friend, not foe.

Vince, a skinny teen with sandy hair poking out from a navy watch cap, followed Ellie in, closing the door behind him. Ellie's hands flew to her face when she saw them: Pete bleeding, Richard tied up, Dasha standing guard.

“We're okay,” Cam said. “Mr. Broadhurst there tried to kill us. But Dasha came to the rescue.”

Vince whipped a folded bandanna out of his rear pocket and knelt at Pete's injured side. “We just finished a first aid course. Let me help.”

Pete nodded. Cam withdrew her hands from his wounds. Vince pressed the cloth against Pete's arm with both hands. Cam tore off her coat and slid it under Pete's head, grateful to have human help at last. She sat cross-legged behind him. Stunned, she stared at her bloody hands for a moment before wiping them on her jeans. She stroked Pete's ashen face.

Vince said, “Ellie, come and relieve me. I want to get my coat off.”

Ellie replaced Vince with the wound pressure. “Are you okay, Mr. Pappas?”

Pete nodded again but winced as he did. Vince removed his wool pea coat and laid it over Pete. He pulled off his glove and pressed his fingers into Pete's neck, watching the old-school clock on the wall. “Pulse is a little high but okay.”

Richard reared his head and spat out a string of obscenities. “My hands. She broke my hands.” He writhed, and Dasha growled at him, readying his open jaws above his neck.

Ellie stared at Cam. “You broke his hands?”

“I guess so. I whacked them pretty hard with a shovel. I had to tie him up, and he wasn't cooperating.” Cam let out a shaky breath. Apparently, she had the capacity to be violent, after all.

“You rock, Cam,” Vince said.

Ellie whistled in admiration. “You're so brave.”

“I couldn't let him get away with more murders.” This was one time when physical violence was justified.

“More murders? He killed Bev?” Ellie asked, eyes wide.

Cam nodded. “And maybe somebody else.”

“Vince, tie up his legs, too,” Pete croaked out. “Then sit on his back.”

Cam pointed Vince to the rope. He tied Richard's feet with it. Vince stroked Dasha and convinced him to move to the side, then plopped onto Richard's back. Cam knew Vince had been lifting weights recently in an effort to get stronger, but he remained a bony young man. She wasn't sure exactly how effective he'd be if Richard, who looked like he weighed twice as much as Vince, really started to struggle. But she knew they could count on Dasha to help.

“Why aren't they here yet?” Cam gazed at her phone. “Should I call again?”

“No. Be here soon. Probably dealing with Rosemary.” Pete closed his eyes.

“Mr. Pappas, you need to keep your eyes open,” Ellie urged. “Tell us what happened.”

“What did you say to Dasha? What was that command you gave him?” Cam asked.

Pete opened his eyes. “Means ‘attack' in Greek. I trained him.”

“It sure worked. You should have seen Dasha.” Cam smiled. “He performed like he's been doing this all his life.”

“Damn dog,” Richard said.

Still alert, a foot away from their attacker, Dasha barked at him.

“Good boy, Dasha,” Cam said. “But, Pete, why aren't you wearing your gun? You had it earlier today.”

Pete sighed. “Have it locked in the car. Didn't think I'd need it. Wrong.”

A chill ran through Cam. All of a sudden, she wasn't sure her legs could hold her up. She was glad to be sitting down. It had been so close. Richard had shot Rosemary. Was she dead? Richard had intended to kill both Pete and Cam, as well. And she'd smashed Richard's hands. She shuddered again, remembering the sickening crack of bones.

The welcome sound of a siren in the distance grew louder. She glanced at Ellie. The girl looked determined as she pressed on Pete's arm, not rattled at all by the situation. Cam wasn't surprised.

“What brought you and Vince over here?” Cam asked Ellie.

“I said I'd come and help you with the shares, but I needed to wait until Vince got off work. He was going to drive me and said he'd help out, too.”

“I'm sure glad you didn't get here a few minutes earlier. I hope I never see another gun in my life.”

Sirens blared close by and then shut off. The barn door slid open. Ruth Dodge rushed in, followed by another officer, both with guns drawn, and then came two EMTs, each carrying a bag of gear.

“Detective, Cam. Give me the one-minute summary,” Ruth said, lowering her weapon after surveying the scene. The other officer strode to Richard. Vince scrambled to his feet when the officer gestured that he'd take over for him. The officer set one foot firmly in the middle of Richard's back and pointed his gun at Richard's head. The EMTs knelt on either side of Pete and got to work, with Ellie handing off the pressure to one of them. Cam got out of the way, too. One of the EMTs handed Cam's and Vince's coats to Cam and covered Pete with a blanket. He cut open Pete's coat sleeve and bandaged the wound, while the other EMT put an oxygen mask over Pete's mouth and nose.

Pete pulled the mask off. “Arrest Broadhurst,” he said. “Threatened both of us. Told us he convinced Rosemary Contini to poison Bev Montgomery. And I believe he shot her at his farm.”

Ruth's eyes widened. “Yes, sir. The Jackson arrest is invalidated?”

“It is. Sorry about that . . .” Pete's voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes again. He let the EMT replace the mask.

“Not a problem,” Ruth said.

“Dasha and I managed to get Richard down,” Cam told her. “Dasha bit his wrist, the one that was holding the gun, but the gun went off and got Pete in the arm. I hit Richard on the head with a shovel, and he went down. Then he came to, or maybe never was out, and he grabbed my ankle. I, um, whacked his hands pretty hard so I could tie them. Vince secured his feet.”

“Where's the gun?” Ruth asked.

“I heard it hit metal.” Cam looked around. “There. It landed under the tiller.” She pointed. A glint of metal was nearly hidden under the tines of the heavy, formerly red machine.

“I didn't do anything. Flaherty there maimed me.” Richard struggled, his head turned to look at Cam.

“Quiet, Broadhurst.” The officer pressed his foot more firmly into Richard's back. He leaned over and brought the revolver into Richard's line of vision.

Detective Jaroncyk hurried into the barn with her left hand on her waist under her jacket. “Got here as soon as I could.” Her eyes widened when she saw Pete. “Pappas, you all right?”

“He will be,” Cam said. She repeated what had happened.

“Got it.” The blond detective nodded.

Ruth turned away when the radio on her shoulder chattered a staticky message. She spoke into it and then walked over to Detective Jaroncyk. Dasha still stood in an alert stance next to Richard. Cam slipped on her coat and handed Vince's to him.

“Come here, Dasha. They've got it now,” she said. She patted her thigh.

Dasha trotted over to her but kept right on going to Pete's side. Dasha whined. He pushed the EMT's hand aside with his head. He licked Pete's cheek. Pete brought his good arm up to stroke the dog.

Cam called Dasha again. “It's okay, buddy. He's going to be fine.”

Dasha gave a little bark. He trotted to Cam's side, tongue out, panting. Moments after one of the EMTs wheeled a stretcher into the barn, he and his partner had bundled Pete onto it. A sob bubbled up in Cam at the sight of his white, strapped-in form, the mask still covering his mouth and nose. Pete's gaze went first to Dasha and then to Cam.

“I'll see you at the hospital,” she called, her hand on Dasha's head. Both of them watched as the EMTs hurried Pete out of the barn.

Cam turned back to see Ruth and Ann Jaroncyk conferring. Ann nodded and pointed at Ruth.

Ruth moved to Richard's side. “Richard Broadhurst, you are under arrest for the murders of Beverly Montgomery and Rosemary Contini, and for the attempted murder of Peter Pappas and Cameron Flaherty,” she said, then proceeded to read him his rights.

The other officer replaced the line around Richard's wrists with handcuffs and loosened the binding on his ankles until his feet were a shuffling distance apart.

“You should arrest Flaherty there.” Richard grimaced. “She broke my hands.”

Dasha looked at Richard and barked in loud, sharp bursts. Cam grabbed hold of his collar with one hand and stroked his head with the other until he quieted. “It's okay,” she murmured. “It's okay.”

Two more officers hurried in. They maneuvered Richard to his feet.

“You ought to put that dog down. It's dangerous,” Richard snarled. As they led him out, he narrowed his eyes at Cam and spat in her direction. “Now what'll happen to all that fine farmland? Huh, Flaherty? Mine and Bev's, both. Ginger will cut down all the trees and build some crappy development. Is that what you wanted?”