Lilies That Fester (22 page)
Read Lilies That Fester Online
Authors: Janis Harrison
I stepped up my pace, but I wondered what was next in this cave of meteorological horrors. I'd been subjected to everything Missouri had to offer in the weather department. I took another twist in the corridor and came to a dead stop at the entrance to the second chamber.
Photographs of huge, fluffy white clouds floated against a cerulean ceiling. From a recording, birds chirruped a cheerful serenade. A mist system spewed droplets that created a rainbow of such vivid hues it hurt my eyes. But the sight that made me pause was Effie.
She was seated in a captain's chair, dressed in a lovely orchid suit with a frilly blouse. A brooch adorned her lapel and earrings sparkled on her tiny ears. Both of her legs and her right arm were tied to the chair. Her left hand was free, but her fingertips had been wrapped with duct tape, making any attempt at freeing herself clumsy if not impossible. Her eyes were closed, her head rested against the back of the chair, an open book lay across her lap.
Before I went to her, I searched the cavern for Alvin. Where was he? There had to be a control booth where all the technical
apparatus was kept. I looked back at Effie. She'd spotted me and was trying to smile.
apparatus was kept. I looked back at Effie. She'd spotted me and was trying to smile.
Cautiously, I crossed to her side. “Where is he?” I whispered as I fumbled with the knots that bound her legs.
She licked her lips. “I don't know.”
“I'm sorry this happened. Why did you leave the hotel?”
“Alvin said you were in trouble. I didn't hesitate coming with him. I'm a gullible old lady, and I should have a keeper.”
I finished the last knot as a lone tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek.
“He was kind. He even apologized for tying me, but he didn't make allowances for an old woman's weak bladder. I tried to hold it, but I couldn't.” Another tear followed the last. “I've ruined my clothes. What will I wear for the contest?”
“We can't worry about that now,” I said, helping her out of the chair. Once Effie was on her feet, she swayed weakly, and I put my arm around her narrow waist. “We have to get out of here.”
We'd taken only a few steps when the recorded bird chirps ceased. The mist spray dwindled to a spurt. The rainbow dissolved into nothingness.
“Going so soon?” asked Alvin.
This time he wasn't speaking over an intercom. I jerked around. My gaze darted to an outcropping of rocks some twenty feet away. As I watched, he moved steadily in our direction.
“Bretta,” he said, shaking his head, “your compassion for others is to be commendedâbut not this time.”
I urged Effie toward the corridor, but spoke to Alvin. “Let her go. She doesn't understand what this is about.”
“But, dear, I do,” said Effie, waving the book that had been in her lap.
I caught a glimpse of the title:
Historical Names and Their Reference
and sensed what was coming. I attempted to shush her, but she wouldn't keep still.
Historical Names and Their Reference
and sensed what was coming. I attempted to shush her, but she wouldn't keep still.
“The name âAlvin' has an old German origin meaning a friend to all. He's the killer, dear, and he's done just as you predicted. He's slithered out of hiding.”
Alvin's eyes narrowed. “Slithered? That's rather crude, don't you think?”
“Let Effie go.”
“I can't,” he said, pulling something from his pocket.
I watched his hand. Saw his thumb make a sliding motion. When he held up a box cutter, I didn't make a sound, but my body tightened with tension. The words “slice and dice” ripped through my brain. “Don't do this,” I said, eyeing the blade.
Effie swayed. “I'm dizzy.”
“Hold on,” I said, tightening my grip on her waist. I made another appeal to Alvin. “Please, let her go so she can see a doctor.”
“No. Put her back in that chair.”
“She needs medical attention.”
Effie patted my hand. “I won't leave you, dear. I'll be all right.” She glared at Alvin. “But I will accept your offer to sit again.
“Then get over there,” he said.
Leaning heavily on my arm, Effie shuffled a couple of steps. Suddenly she gasped. The book slipped from her hands and hit the cave floor with a thud. “Oh,” she moaned, pressing a hand to her breast. “Oh!”
I tried to catch her, but my handbag got in the way. I tossed it aside, but she slid out of my grasp. Tears filled my eyes as I knelt at her side. “Effie? Effie?” I called frantically.
I put my head to her chest and heard the steady beat of her heart. I focused on her face and saw the color rise in her wrinkled cheeks. I dashed a hand at my tears and nearly missed seeing her eye flutter in a sly wink.
Good Lord above. She was up to something.
“No!” I screeched. “Hell, no,” I added for emphasis.
Alvin mistook my ranting as grief. “Is she dead?”
I used my body to shield Effie from his gaze. “Her life is hanging by a thread. Let me take her out of here.”
“You've overworked that plea. Let her die peacefully.” He motioned to me. “Get over here. You have a different fate.”
This time I moved quickly. I wanted his attention off Effie. I didn't know what she had in mind, but if Alvin saw she was faking itâI gulped and circled the area coming up on his left.
“Stop right there,” he said, aiming the box cutter at my throat. “I want you to soak your feet in that pool of water.”
I followed the direction he indicated. The runoff from the mist system had created more than a rainbow. A good-sized puddle had formed in a hollow on the stone floor. “Why?” I asked.
“Just do it. Get your feet wet, then move along to the corridor.”
I stared down at the water, trying to buy time. “Should I take my shoes off?”
“Are the soles rubber?”
My eyes widened. I peered over my shoulder, seeing the twinkle lights from a different perspective. The thousands of tiny bulbs had seemed so reassuring, so festive. Now they
shone with a perilous glow. So many interconnecting wires, so much electricity.
shone with a perilous glow. So many interconnecting wires, so much electricity.
I shuffled a step away, but Alvin shoved me. I stumbled and fell to my knees. The stone floor tore my hose and scraped away tender flesh. Water splashed my face and soaked my skirt.
Alvin said, “That ought to do it. Get up.” For an added incentive, he put the razor to my cheek. “Now.”
I struggled painfully to my feet, bedraggled and furious. Without thinking, I lashed out, wanting to wipe the sneer from his face. He put his hand up, and the blade sliced through my sleeve and into my arm. It happened so smoothly and so quickly, I didn't realize I'd been wounded until I felt the blood run down my wrist. I stared at the scarlet flow in disbelief.
“I mean business,” said Alvin.
I looked at him, then past him, and fought to control my expression. Effie was on her knees, her butt in the air. She clawed at my purse, trying to draw it closer. She was so focused that she wasn't watching Alvin.
What if he heard her?
What if he turned around?
I seized a topic out of thin air and babbled like a brook after a downpour. “You're not going to get away with killing me. I have that floral contest to conduct. If I'm not back at the hotel when the conference doors open, this entire complex will be crawling with angry florists searching for me. And this group won't give up.”
Effie had my purse in hand and was slowly rising to her feet. I tried for a cool, confident laugh, but it came out a high-pitched cackle. “Florists are resourceful, too,” I said, plowing on. “Someone will figure out where I am.”
Step by step, Effie crept toward us.
“They'll storm this golf course so fast you won't know whatâ”
Alvin raised the blade. “Shut up.”
Effie was six feet from her target. Her mouth was pursed in a grim line. Slowly, she raised her arm.
Alvin started to turn his head, but I flipped my hand under his nose to gain his attention. “Yeah, that's what a florist isâresourceful. When a customer asks for something clever and ingenuous, we deliver. We aim to please. We don't duck our responsibilities. We clobber the competition.”
“God, but you are annoying,” said Alvin, slapping at my hand. “You're wasting time.”
“TIME!” I screamed.
Effie's eyes shone with determination as she swung my loaded handbag at Alvin. Because she was short and the bag was heavy, her aim was a tad off. The blow missed his head, but slammed into his shoulder, knocking him off balance. The box cutter flew out of his hand and clattered somewhere to my right.
Not to be outdone by this feisty woman, I added my fury to the fracas.
I hit low ⦠I hit hard ⦠I hit dirty. Alvin folded like the leaves of a prayer plant at dusk.
From what I understood of the male anatomy, my punch to the soft tissue of his groin should've put him out of commission. But Alvin was desperate. A knee to his crotch wasn't going to hinder him for long.
I kept my eyes on him as I backed toward the corridor. Effie took my arm and pressed the strap of my purse into my hand. I grabbed hold of it like a lifeline. Under my breath, I said, “We've got to make a run for it. Can you do it?”
“Yes, dear.”
We were almost to the opening when Alvin straightened up. His face was twisted with pain that was underlined with rage. His mouth formed words, but I didn't stick around to find out what they were.
“Go!” I said.
Effie was off like a rocket that unfortunately was missing most of its firing power. I slowed my pace, so I wouldn't dislocate her shoulder as I towed her along. Loping down the corridor, I cast about for some way to stop Alvin or at least slow him down. We needed time to get to the entrance, where I hoped Bailey would be out and about looking for me.
The cut on my arm ached. My head throbbed. I had no weapon. I had Effie hanging on one side of me, while my handbag weighed me down on the other. Filled with frustration, I struck the purse with my fist and hit the container of flower preservative.
We rounded the first bend of the corridor and our movement activated the sensor that turned on the ball of hot light. Effie gasped. “I can't see.”
“Close your eyes. I'll lead the way. It's only a short distance, and then the light will go out.”
I chewed my lower lip. Effie's words, “I can't see,” had given me an idea. But would it work?
Swiftly, I went over the design of the corridor. After the glaring light came Tornado Alley. The winds were fierce, and if I was positioned right, I had the makings of a sandstorm in my purse.
Behind us, Alvin shouted, “I'm going to get you, Bretta.”
“Not if I get you first,” I muttered. I unzipped my purse and took out the plastic pint of flower preservative. It was a weak ploy, but it might gain us enough time to get out of the cave.
We moved past the sensors, and the glaring light dimmed.
For a brief moment, darkness wrapped us in a false sense of security. Then I heard Alvin. He was closing in.
For a brief moment, darkness wrapped us in a false sense of security. Then I heard Alvin. He was closing in.
If my plan was to work, Effie and I had to get through tornado alley very quickly. The TORNADO ALLEY sign flashed on. The air began to flow, gaining momentum. I ignored the pictures that were projected on the ceiling and walls, and hustled Effie through the technical-wrought storm.
Once we cleared the sensors the sign flashed off. The wind died. I glanced behind me. The ball of light illuminated the corridor with its harsh glow.
I urged Effie over to the wall and whispered, “Cover your face, and don't look around until I tell you. Okay?”
“What are you going to do?”
“No time. Trust me.”
“Without a doubt, dear.”
I left my purse on the floor so both of my hands were free. I uncapped the flower preservative. The white powder was smaller than grains of sand. If I gauged my action correctly, if Alvin unwittingly cooperated, I could empty the container, and the whirlwind would do the rest. But first I had to find a place to stand where he wouldn't see me. The element of surprise had to be on my side.
The only source of light was the TORNADO ALLEY sign that came on when movement was detected. With that in mind, I shifted to my far right and pressed my face against the cold stone. Anxiety built in my chest. Where was Alvin? The ball of light had long since dimmed. He should have activated the TORNADO ALLEY sign by now. I tried to still my breathing. What was he waiting for?
A gentle breeze touched my hot cheeks. The air jets kicked in. The sign flashed on. I turned and saw Alvin at the same moment he saw me. He charged. I tossed the powder into the
air. Instantly, the grit was sucked up by the wind and flung in all directions.
air. Instantly, the grit was sucked up by the wind and flung in all directions.
I quickly covered my face, but still felt the sting. Alvin squealed like a pig, but I didn't look. I grabbed Effie's arm.
She reached up and touched my cheek with trembling fingers. “That was damned resourceful, dear. You're one hell of a florist.”
Effie was taken to a local hospital for a thorough examination and kept for observation to make sure her ordeal hadn't put her health at risk. She didn't attend the contest, and I barely made it myself. I'd changed out of my wet clothes, and had received eight stitches to the cut on my arm. The wound ached, but at ten after ten, I took my place before a room filled with eager florists impatient to get the competition under way.
Reggie and the Missouri Highway Patrol had taken Alvin into custody after his eyes had been cleansed. Bailey had stayed behind to take my statement. I'd given him a quick rundown of events, and then had excused myself to conduct the contest.
Bailey stood at the back of the room, his arms folded over his chest, his chin set at an angle that rocked my concentration. I forced my gaze away from him and to the four contestantsâRobbee, Miriam, Chloe, and Zach. I smiled with what I hoped might be taken as confidence, though I hadn't an ounce.
When Effie had walloped Alvin with my purse, the impact of the blow had shattered the compact disc case, scratching a deep groove on the playing surface. That CD had been the contest. I'd worked hard finding songs with flowers in the titlesâ
“Days of Wine and Roses.” “Tiptoe Through the Tulips.” “You Don't Bring Me Flowers Anymore.” “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White.” Each tune had been recorded on the disk, and would've given the contestants adequate time to interpret their own rendition into a bouquet.
“Days of Wine and Roses.” “Tiptoe Through the Tulips.” “You Don't Bring Me Flowers Anymore.” “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White.” Each tune had been recorded on the disk, and would've given the contestants adequate time to interpret their own rendition into a bouquet.
As the applause died away, I risked another glance at Bailey. In the excitement of giving my statement, I'd told him that the “key” to the contest had been ruined. He'd bitten back the “if you'd mind your own business” lecture, saying that something would come to me. Of all the people in the room, only he understood the task I faced at bluffing my audience into thinking I knew what I was doing.
I made eye contact with Bailey, and an unexpected peace came over me. I relaxed my tense shoulders. “Good morning. My name is Bretta Solomon. Welcome to Branson and to our contest.”
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