Rest in Pieces (29 page)

“You said you always have chocolate in your purse, but is it Godiva?” Monica popped in her cherry cordial.

“If you’re going to eat chocolate, it should be the best.” There was a big, fat duh in her voice.

“If you’re ever involved in a run–by purse snatching by someone who looks like me, it’s not me. Just saying.” I’m a criminal mastermind. She totally won’t suspect me at all.

“So Molly’s making ricin in her garage.” Monica pointed to the chemistry set. She was so useful in getting us back on topic. “What does that have to do with all of the money and gold that we found.”

“And the cell phone with the names.” Haley added.

“Molly made ricin for money.” Where had she learned to make it? Was there a book called
How to Make Ricin for Fun and Profit
? I seriously hoped not.

“I guess that works.” Haley let out a long slow sigh. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation about Molly.”

“I know.” Never in a million years would I have imagined that she could be tangled up in something illegal.

“I guess selling ricin could be profitable. I don’t know.” Monica leaned down to get a better look at a huge beaker and the hoses running to and from it. “What if Molly wasn’t selling the ricin, but she was using it?”

“I don’t understand.” Haley looked like she just couldn’t get her head wrapped around the idea that Molly was using the deadly product she was making.

“Okay, stick with me here, it’s just an idea, but what if Molly was using the ricin to kill people. Every single one of the people on the cell phone list died of respiratory failure—”

“If inhaled, ricin causes respiratory failure.” I added. This was so surreal. Here we were standing in a house we’d broken into, and we were actually discussing the possibility that Molly was a killer.

“Right. All of those people died of respiratory failure. What if that was Molly’s murder list? Molly was crazy for making lists. One time I saw her make a list of the lists she needed to make. Let’s say that was her murder list, why kill those people? Why is Mustang on the list?” Monica was trying to put the puzzle together. Her eyes got big. “It’s a hit list. Molly killed all of those people for money.”

“Bravo.” A deep male voice said from behind us.

I turned around to find Dr. Turley leaning against the open door holding a gun pointed directly at me.

Oh crap.

“I’d applaud, but a one–handed clap sounds funny.” Dr. Turley smiled and his wandering eye looked off to the left.

I was probably supposed to look at the one that was trained on me. Note to self, right eye is the good eye. Watch that one.

He’d lost weight—a lot of weight.

“You’ve lost weight.” I figured that it couldn’t hurt to compliment the guy. He had lost a considerable amount of weight, and he was holding a gun on us.

“Thanks.” With his free hand, he patted his stomach. “I’m Paleo.”

I glanced at Haley for translation.

“The Paleo Diet is where you eat like a caveman. Lots of meat, no refined foods, no processed carbs and, lots of salad.” Haley shot me a weird look like we had more pressing matters than the Paleo Diet.

“We were just leaving.” Monica grabbed my hand and Haley’s and tugged us closer to the door.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I can’t let you leave. Before, you were just a pain in the ass, now you know too much.”

“How can we know too much? We don’t know anything. As far as we’re concerned Molly died of a heroin overdose.” I sounded halfway convincing…I think.

Haley, Monica, and I moved as one large group toward the door.

Turley cocked the gun. “I can shoot you all for breaking and entering. As long as I say the magic words, ‘I was in fear for my life,’ I fall under Texas’s Castle Law. I believe Mrs. Hansen has a concealed handgun permit. Am I right?”

We stopped.

“Yes.” Haley’s voice was high and squeaky.

In the movies, this is the point where the SWAT guys come crashing through the windows and take down the bad guy. I glanced at the window to my right and waited and waited. Maybe the SWAT guys were out to dinner and would be back any minute.

“How did you find this place? It isn’t under my name, I was very careful.” Turley moved inside the door, reached behind him, closed the door and locked it.

“Dumb luck.” I really couldn’t think of anything else. Apparently my keen lying skills had run for the hills. It was probably the fear. If I didn’t die tonight, I was totally going to work on my lying skills.

“Somehow, I don’t believe you.” Turley cocked his head to the right and his left eye wandered to the ceiling. Oh crap, I was supposed to watch the right one.

“I’ve never met three bigger pains in my ass. I liked things better when ladies stayed home and had babies. Women’s lib has ruined the world. Things were so much easier before y’all decided to take jobs away from men.” Turley was taking that Paleo diet to a whole new level. He was actually turning back the clock and becoming a caveman. All he needed were some knuckles to drag on the floor and a cave to sleep in and he’d be all set.

This is the point where I should bust out my ninja moves and kick his ass, but sadly, I have no ninja moves. The only thing I could think of was talking him to death. Many people had pointed out that talking someone to death was my super power.

“Okay, so we figured out that Molly was a contract killer. Did you kill her?” I was still holding out hope for the SWAT guys. Plus, this was always the part in
Castle
where the murderer confesses to everything.

“What? You haven’t figured out the rest? Cervantes credits you with more brains.” Turley rolled his shoulders like his neck muscles were tight. If he was any indication, being a murderer was stressful.

Cervantes? Hadn’t Daman mentioned him?

“No, we only just now put together the whole contract killer thing.” I leaned forward slightly, in the universal please elaborate gesture.

Turley studied me and then shook his head. “Damn, you really don’t know. Molly was hired to kill you. When she refused, I had to take her out.”

All eyes went to me.

“Who hired her to kill me? And why?” True Salina Atan hated me, but I was pretty sure she couldn’t afford to hire someone to kill me. Unless she’d recently come into an inheritance or she’d hit it big in the lottery. In either case, I would have expected her to quit her job. Then again, maybe she’d stayed at the job to throw me off. Salina was sneaky, there was no denying that.

“Cervantes.” His brow scrunched up like he couldn’t believe that I was that stupid. Well the joke was on him. I
was
that stupid and more, because I still had no idea what was going on.

“Molly wouldn’t kill Mustang so you took her out. That’s what you said.” Monica jumped in. “What happened to her body? Only her head made it to the funeral home, how did that happen?”

“That was Chief Stanford. He’s such an idiot.” Turley shook his head like there was nothing he could do about Stanford’s stupidity. “What can you do? He’s an idiot, but he does what he’s told.”

“Huh? I don’t understand where Stanford fits into things.” Maybe talking people to death really was my super power. Being a badass ninja would be a better super power.

“Molly was my apprentice.”

“Wait, like the Donald Trump show?” I’d never actually seen it, but I was pretty sure that it didn’t involve killing people.

“No, apprentice as in contract killer in training. I taught Molly how to make ricin and the best ways to use it.” His tone suggested that I was mentally challenged and that his patience was wearing thin.

“Molly was a contract killer…she was the Kindergarten Killer? Wow, I know it’s wrong, but it kind of sounds cool.” A few other things finally fell into place for me. “So this is how she could afford Lakeside Living.”

“Said she’d rather kill people for a living than have her mother move in with her. It turns out that she had a talent for it.” There was no mistaking the pride in his voice. He really felt like Molly’s mentor.

After having met Edna Miars, I’m not sure I could fault Molly for choosing contract killing over living with her mother.

“It was unfortunate that I received orders to kill her. She was my finest creation.” His voice turned sad. As crazy, wandering–eye killers went, he was pretty creepy.

“When I slipped some ricin in her dinner, she didn’t notice until it was too late. She struggled and damn my tender heart, I didn’t like watching her suffer. She was just like a daughter to me. So I administered a lethal dose of heroin through eye drops I keep for emergencies.” Turley actually sounded upset…in that creepy, emotionless way.

He always had killer eye drops on hand? It was good to be prepared, I guess.

“That was very kind of you.” Monica’s tone was flat.

“I’m not heartless.” He waved it off.

Obviously sarcasm was lost on Turley. I wondered if all contract killers missed the nuances of sarcasm. Maybe it was something genetic like the gene that caused some people to hate cilantro. Perhaps contract killers are missing the sarcasm gene.

“What about the bodiless head?” Monica prompted. She was a stickler for staying on topic.

“I called Chief Stanford over to clean up the mess. I explained that I’d just found her and that she’d ingested ricin. I gave him the time of death, told him we would call it a heroin overdose, and then I left. Puddy had dinner waiting and she gets so mad when I’m late for dinner.” He sighed long and hard.

It was all so normal, just a day in the life…

“In hindsight, I should have just told Stanford that she overdosed. The idiot got ricin confused with something contagious like Ebola and dismembered the body before burying it.” He shook his head. “I have no idea why he thought dismemberment was necessary. The man has lost his car twice in the Target parking lot and reported it missing both times.”

See, I wasn’t joking about that. It really happened…twice.

“After he buried her, he called me in a panic because he thought he might be exposed. It was just easier to tell him that I’d mixed up the cause of death, and that she’d actually died of a heroin overdose.” He shrugged again. “Like I said, he’s an idiot. Not once did he question how I knew it was a heroin overdose.”

“And the head. How did that make it to the funeral home?” Haley kept her eyes on Turley, but I noticed that her hand was moving slowly to her purse. I hoped she was going for her gun, because I didn’t think Turley was going to let us go.

“Actually, that’s the normal part of this whole thing. Edna Miars threw a fit to have an open casket, so Stanford dug up Molly’s head.” Turley made it all sound so normal.

“Wow, he really is an idiot.” I nodded in agreement. Agree with the man trying to kill you, that was my plan. Well, that and talking him to death. “So um…”

I had nothing. We’d set out to find out who killed Molly and here he was about to kill us. Oh wait, “Why kill me?”

“No idea.” He shrugged. “Cervantes wants you dead.”

“I don’t know anyone named Cervantes.” How could I have pissed off someone that I didn’t know?

“What about the baby?” Monica watched Turley very carefully.

“What baby?” His brushy, gray eyebrows shot up.

“Molly was pregnant.” Haley’s hand slowly unzipped her purse.

Dr. Turley blinked twice. “Molly was pregnant?”

“A little over two months.” My eyes stayed on Turley.

“Oh, my. I told her not to mix business with pleasure, but she slept with Cervantes anyway. She was in love. Useless emotion. Cervantes ordered the death of his own child. I have to tell you, I did not see that coming.” Turley didn’t sound appalled or even upset, just matter–of–fact.

“He’s a monster.” Monica’s tone implied that Turley was right up there with Cervantes.

Turley shrugged one shoulder. “It’s the business, it dehumanizes people. What can you do?”

With the gun in his right hand, he wrapped his left hand around his right and shifted, aiming at me. “Don’t worry. I was a pretty good shot back in Vietnam. I hit half of the people I was aiming for so this might not hurt much.” He hunched his shoulders. “Provided I get you in the heart. If I clip the stomach or kidneys, all bets are off.”

So I had a fifty–fifty shot at dying in terrible pain. I didn’t like those odds. I stepped to the left. A moving target was harder to hit…right?

“So, how long have you been in the contract killer game? Is it good money?” My talk–him–to–death super power had been restored. “I see that you have an opening. I’d like to apply.”

I moved over even farther.

“What?” He tracked me with his gun. “Stand still. I might miss if you don’t stand still.”

Which was the point. I zigzagged right and then left.

“Damn it, hold still.” He dropped his left hand and glanced down. “Hold on, let me get my glasses.”

As he felt around in his left breast pocket for a pair of glasses, Haley yelled, “Dive!”

She shoved her hand in her purse and shot off two rounds. She didn’t even bother taking the gun out of her purse, she just shot clean through it.

Turley got one round off. My left shoulder burned like it was on fire.

Dead center of Turley’s chest, twin bullet holes bloomed with blood. Turley staggered back against the door and collapsed.

He mouthed, “You shot me.” His eyes turned vacant and his head lolled to the right. He still held the gun.

I turned back to Haley. Her blue eyes were wide and her hand was still holding the gun inside of her purse. “Daman always told me to carry a revolver in case I ever needed to shoot someone but didn’t have to time pull out my gun or flip off the safety.”

Monica laid her hand on Haley’s forearm and lowered it. “I’d say that was some great advice.”

“I’m calling nine–one–one.” I tried to lift my left arm and pain rocked down it. I looked down. Blood was oozing down my arm and dripping onto the floor. I’d been shot and I couldn’t call nine–one–one because I’d left my phone in the car. I just stared at the blood flowing down my arm. I couldn’t make sense of it all. My legs felt heavy and pulled me down to the floor.

“Mustang’s been shot.” Monica sounded so far away.