Bryony shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You know now, so I can’t let you live.”
“But why did you kill him?”
“And here I thought you were so smart. The man was going to divorce me. After all those years he was going to leave me and marry that fool Jasper. After I spent a fortune and my entire life turning him into a star he was going to give me a measly annuity. Not even a lump sum but a paltry allowance.”
“You could have gotten a lawyer and gotten a better deal.”
“I couldn’t. We signed a prenup.”
“In Johnny’s favor? I thought he was the pauper and you the rich girl?”
Bryony shifted the gun to her other hand. “Nicely put. And you’re right. I was rich and Johnny was poor, which is exactly why my father demanded we sign a prenup. Unfortunately I neglected to include a clause that would grant me a portion of moneys earned during our marriage, only that we’d both get back what we’d put in.”
“Which for you was your entire fortune, right?”
“Wrong. I never invested anything. My father did, on my request. Upon divorce, I get back exactly what I put in: nothing. And Johnny gets to keep what he made throughout our marriage. Very unfair, but there you have it.”
“So he was going to leave you with an annuity? That seems harsh.”
“It was. Since his career was in decline—or in a state of rigor mortis, to be exact—and he spent every cent he owned on his very expensive hobbies, his fortune had dwindled. He’d effectively blown most of my money and his.”
“So these songs he’d recorded—”
“Were for his comeback record. Which he hoped would put him back on top. There was still a nice chunk of change left, but he was keeping it.”
“And so you decided you needed to kill him now or lose out forever.”
She smiled. “You are a great reporter, Miss Poole. Yes, Johnny called me to the house a couple of weeks ago, and said he wanted to marry Jasper. Make things official between them. He wanted a divorce. He said he’d always take care of me, and offered me the annuity scheme.” She shook her head. “I was livid. After spending the best years of my life and my family’s fortune on this man, he was going to fob me off with a few alms? No way. So I decided to get rid of him before the divorce, and salvage what I could from this mess.”
“And get rid of Jasper in the process.”
“Of course. I never liked that horrid little man. Jail is too good for him.”
“So how did you do it?” She needed to buy time. Time to find a solution.
“Well, I thought long and hard about a way to kill the bastard. It’s not easy to kill a person and get away with it if you’ve never done it before.” She sounded bemused now, as if the entire murder proposition had been nothing but an intriguing puzzle to her. “I thought about an overdose, which would have looked plausible, but Johnny was always very careful about his dope. The idea came to me when I was in Australia. Some news segment about a boy who’d been bitten by the world’s deadliest spider. As luck would have it, they invited me to visit the reptile center and that’s where I got the venom.”
“But how did you get Jasper’s fingerprint on the vial?”
She waved a hand. “I’d seen that on a crime show. I used a piece of tape to lift Jasper’s prints from a wine glass when I was over at Johnny’s house, and attach them to the vial. It was actually a lot easier than I thought.”
“Clever,” said Odelia.
“Yes, the plan was very straightforward and easy,” said Bryony, “which told me it was the right thing to do. Now all I need to do is get rid of you.”
“My uncle will come looking. He’ll know what you did.”
“I don’t think so, hon. I’ll just get rid of your car and the body and your uncle will simply think you skedaddled.”
“I would never do that.”
“Well, you’re going to.” She raised the gun. “Please lie down, Miss Poole. I don’t want any blood on my curtains. I like my murders nice and tidy.”
Chapter 28
Bryony took careful aim, and it was obvious she knew how to handle a gun. Odelia had done as instructed and was now lying on the tarp, awaiting the end. She thought about rushing the woman and slapping that gun from her hand, but Bryony was no fool. She kept her distance. Besides, chances were that the moment she made a move the woman would shoot anyway.
“Don’t do this, Bryony,” she said. “You’re going to get caught. You may have gotten away with Johnny’s murder, but you won’t get away with this.”
“Oh, yes, I will,” said Bryony with a strangely stilted smile. “I’m getting the hang of this, you know. It’s true what they say about murder. Once you’ve made your first kill, the next ones are so much easier.”
“The next ones? You’re not thinking about killing again, are you?”
“Of course. Do you really think I want to see my daughter marry a drug dealer? When I kill Mr. Rubb I intend to inflict as much pain as possible. Serves him right for dealing my husband drugs and seducing my only daughter. Now close your eyes and say a prayer. This is the end of the line.”
“Just what I was going to tell you,” a voice suddenly sounded behind Bryony. “Drop it!” the voice added sharply, “Or I drop you!”
When Odelia opened her eyes, she saw that Chase was standing in the doorway, pointing a very large gun at Bryony, who’d whirled around. The moment she caught sight of the large cop, she uttered a cry of dismay, and instantly dropped the gun. Not such a cold-blooded killer after all.
“Odelia, are you all right?” he asked, giving Bryony’s gun a kick.
“I’m fine,” she said, getting up. “I was just taking a nap while Bryony here told me the story of her life.”
“You’re under arrest, Mrs. Pistol,” Chase grunted, and quickly and efficiently outfitted Bryony with a pair of handcuffs.
“How did you get here?” asked Odelia, surprised and extremely relieved.
“After you left I thought about what you said. All that stuff about not giving up. So I decided you were probably right. I figured I might as well try to get Veronica to sign a written confession fingering the Commissioner. When I arrived I saw your car parked out front, and the gate wide open. And when I looked through the window, I saw Mrs. Pistol here brandishing her gun.” He gave Bryony a grim look. “Before you kill people you might want to close the curtains.”
“Beginner’s mistake,” muttered the woman, looking extremely annoyed.
“You got here just in time,” Odelia said. “Another minute and she would have put a hole in me.”
“I figured as much when I saw you lying on that piece of plastic.”
Just then, Odelia’s phone beeped and she took it out.
“What is it?” asked Chase.
She smiled. “Um… is it all right if we take a little detour before we drop Mrs. Pistol off at the police station?”
He looked puzzled. “Why? You want to go for pizza?”
“Just a small errand I have to run. But a very urgent one. Let’s go.”
He shook his head. “You’re speaking in riddles, Poole, as usual.”
“Probably the reporter in me. Now let’s get moving before it’s too late.”
She drove first, with Chase following right behind her, Bryony safely tucked in the backseat. She followed the flickering dot on the screen, and soon saw they were heading to the Writer’s Lodge. Huh? What was Max doing out there? She drove at a healthy clip, and soon the two cars were roaring up the hill, the wheels of the two pickup trucks tackling the rutted dirt road and spraying up a cloud of dust. The road meandered and narrowed until they reached the small parking space right below the ridge where the Writer’s Lodge was located.
She saw that two other cars were already parked there: a silver Mercedes and a burgundy BMW. She cut the engine and got out of the car, Chase joining her. He was staring at the Mercedes. “NYPD plates,” he grunted.