A Wrench in the Works Page 24

  As the camera ran, I pulled myself up onto the scaffolding, grabbing the pipes like they were monkey bars. Actually, climbing these always made me feel like a kid again. Chloe and I had grown up on jobsites, so this was old hat to both of us.

  Once I was safely up on the scaffolding, I said, “This wide horizontal board I’m standing on is called the platform.” I grinned as I stomped on it with my boot. “That’s what I call it, anyway. Some builders also call it a bridge.”

  I said a few more brilliant words, then we stopped filming so that Bob the camera guy could climb up to the platform and get some close-ups of me and the damaged wood. His camera was carefully hoisted up to him by two of his assistants.

  “Once we start working inside the house,” I said to the camera, “we won’t have as many issues with rotten wood. But as you can see, here on the outside, we’ve got dozens of problems. The good news is, once we’ve replaced the wood and painted the entire house with a good oil-based paint, it should stand for another hundred years.”

  We finished filming for the day and while the crew shut down the set, I sat on the front steps and wondered what to do next. I’d been so busy that I hadn’t had a chance to bait anyone all day. Which was sort of a weird thing to think about, but honestly, I needed to figure out who killed Bree and Richie so I could spring my sister from the comfort of her jail cell.

  I stared at the activity going on across the driveway where my guys were helping the film crew break down the scaffolding and straighten things up for the day. I noticed Mac was there, too, and felt a burst of pride that he was so willing to jump in and help where it was needed.

  Earlier that afternoon, Eric had given the okay for us to go back inside the house and I for one was glad and relieved to hear it. I watched Mac stacking the scaffolding planks and knew I had some time to kill before we left for the day. The sun was beginning to drop behind the trees, casting long shadows across the property. That was when I realized that what I really wanted to do was take a little self-guided tour inside the house. I wanted to get a feeling for the layout of the rooms and gather ideas for the various projects we would do in the next week or so. I stood and crossed the porch, unlocked the front door, and walked inside.

  Gazing around, I had to smile. This old home was just as impressive as I remembered from the first day Chloe and I had walked in and found Bree’s body.

  I spent a few minutes strolling around the living room, then moved into the dining room, where I stared at the wall of rich, dark wood paneling and sighed. It was positively droolworthy—if you were inclined to drool over beautiful mahogany paneling. I was.

  A built-in hutch with dozens of drawers held pride of place in the center of the wall. A large mirror was built into the wide space under the cabinets and above the gold-veined Carrara marble countertop. I couldn’t wait for Chloe to see it.

  I’d called Chloe first thing that morning just to check in. She was still fine, but I thought she sounded a little on edge, as if she were already tired of being in Eric’s protective cage. And who could blame her? We needed to sort this out fast and spring my sister. It was just wrong that an innocent person was languishing in jail because a guilty person wanted to kill her. Which brought me back around to my list of suspects.

  I thought about Rolly and Lolly Wagner. Never in a million years did I ever think I would feel sorry for them, but I did. I wanted to help them, but mold was a tricky problem. Getting rid of it was a costly and lengthy procedure, but they really deserved some help. Maybe I would see if Chloe could get the show to donate some time or money toward the project. And if not, I would call in some favors and get the work done.

  I heard footsteps above me and wondered who in the world was walking around up there. The house was getting darker by the minute. I looked around for a light switch and flicked it on, but nothing happened. The old chandelier hanging from the ceiling wasn’t working. Undaunted, sort of, I crossed the foyer and took a few steps up the stairs, then called out, “Hello?”

  The footsteps quickened and I felt chills skitter across my shoulders. A figure appeared at the top of the stairs and I almost went running.

  “Oh, Shannon, it’s you.”

  “Suzanne?” I could hardly breathe, wondering what she was up to. “What were you doing up there?”

  “Now that we’re allowed to come inside the house, I wanted to take a quick look around. This place is amazing, isn’t it?” She descended the stairs, passing me on the way. She stood on the foyer floor while I remained one step higher. At least we were eye to eye now. Sheesh.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said. “I guess we had the same idea.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I still have to finish the payroll before I leave for the day.”

  “That’s important.”

  She chuckled. “Oh, yeah. I’ll be in deep doo-doo if I don’t get it done.”

  She walked out and I breathed in relief. Gripping the handrail, I realized it was wobbly and was glad it wasn’t me. “Someone will kill themselves grabbing on to this,” I muttered, and knelt down to study the problem. The wood itself was in really good shape so I wouldn’t recommend replacing it. After a few minutes, I decided that all it would take to fix it was to reattach the railing more securely to the newel posts. The balusters were loose, too, and could probably be pulled right out of their sockets. But again, the wood was firm and strong so I figured we would just glue each spindle back into its place and that would solve the issue.

  I wandered back to the dining room. I tried the light switch and the two ornate sconces on either side of the built-in breakfront twinkled to life, casting a romantic glow on the room.

  I was able to get a better look at the room now and saw how the wood glistened in the light. I opened and closed some of the breakfront drawers and marveled at how smoothly they moved in and out. For a decrepit old mansion, this room was in pretty good shape.

  More footsteps echoed against the marble foyer floor. I was calmer this time since it made sense that some of the staff or crew would want to see the house after being kept outside for so many days.

  I turned in time to see Blake walk past the dining room entryway. “Beautiful house, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Bree always picked the best ones.” He kept walking through the foyer and at some point he stopped because I couldn’t hear his footsteps.

  It was fully dark outside by now and I just hoped some of the crew was still working outside. I decided to ignore Blake and continue examining the hutch. I couldn’t wait to get Chloe working on this wall of drawers and mirrors. It would be a stunning backdrop for the show.

  I bent down to take a closer look at the mirror. It was in near-perfect condition, which was a minor miracle. As I stared into the mirror, I realized that I could see Blake behind me. He had returned to the foyer and was gazing up at the ceiling. I knew what he was looking at. It was the still-lovely chandelier hanging from the center of an elaborately decorated plaster ceiling rose. I had admired it myself a few minutes ago.

  As he ambled around the foyer, checking out the features, he casually tossed a hammer up in the air and caught it each time. Knowing Blake, I worried for the marble floor and hoped he didn’t drop the hammer. I was so wrapped up in the beauty of the breakfront and the mirror that I didn’t pay much attention at first, but then the realization hit me. I continued to watch him through the mirror as he tossed the hammer up again and again. And caught it every time, almost the way a talented professional bartender would twirl a bottle before pouring a shot. For a man as clumsy as Blake, it was astonishing.

  And that was when I knew something was very wrong.

  Blake glanced into the dining room and saw me. He took two quiet steps toward me, but then realized I was watching his every move through the mirror. Our gazes met, and I knew he knew that I had figured it all out.

  No one as klutzy as Blake was suppo
sed to be would ever be able to master the trick of tossing a hammer and catching it like that. All he had ever been capable of doing with a hammer was dropping it. Or so I’d been led to believe.

  I stood up and turned around to face him squarely. “Hello, Blake.”

  He nodded, still clutching the hammer. “Shannon.”

  “You lied about Bree firing Chloe.”

  “No, I didn’t.” He shook his head and gave a short, hard laugh. “She fired Chloe and everyone else at least once a month.”

  “Including you.”

  “We had a fiery relationship.”

  “But she was firing you for real. The network didn’t want you working on their new show.”

  “Sorry, kiddo.” Shaking his head sadly, he gave me a look that most people reserved for delusional, elderly relatives. “I know it’s hard to accept, but Bree was trying to dump Chloe.”

  I laughed. “Right. How long do you think that story’s going to fly?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that when the network people show up next week, we can ask them who they’ve chosen for the show.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Ah. I guess that was something that Bree didn’t tell you. She certainly told Chloe. Turns out you don’t know everything after all, Blake.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Am I? I guess we’ll see who’s telling the truth when the network bigwigs show up.”

  “I knew they were coming, of course,” he said, and I could see him clenching his jaw. “They’re coming to see me.”

  “Oh, really?”

  He clutched the hammer even more tightly as he walked toward me. I suddenly wondered if anyone was still working outside. Was Wade waiting to go over the schedule for tomorrow? Had Mac decided to go home? Maybe he couldn’t find me and figured I had left for the day. I was on my own.

  Blake tossed the hammer again and caught it like an expert juggler. I had thought he was a weakling and a klutz. Apparently I was wrong. I glanced around for some kind of weapon to use against him, but there was nothing. It didn’t matter; I was younger and stronger. I worked hard every day and I was in good shape while Blake had only pretended to work all these years.

  I wanted to kick myself, knowing that all day long, either Mac or Wade had been no more than three feet from my side. My own personal bodyguards. Even my dad and Uncle Pete had shown up, moving through the crowds, keeping an eye on me and everything else around them. And now, here I was, all alone with a crazy person holding a hammer.

  He approached me by circling the perimeter of the room, cutting off my access to escape out the front door. I circled in the same direction to the other side of the room. I stayed as far away from him as possible while watching his every step. He kept narrowing the circle while I tried to push it farther out. I had suddenly realized that I did have a weapon I could use against him, if only I could get to it. I would have to make it to the foyer staircase. Those wobbly balusters weren’t exactly lethal, but if I could yank one of them loose, I could use it to defend myself against that hammer he kept tossing around.

  “Why did you kill Richie?” I asked.

  He stopped momentarily, looking surprised. Guess he didn’t realize I could multi-task, talking while he stalked me.

  “Tell me why, Blake.”

  He shrugged. “He slept with my wife.”

  Sounded reasonable enough. But there had to be more. After all, he’d also killed his wife. “I guess that’s one reason. But a lot of people sleep with other people’s spouses. Did you have to kill him?”

  He snorted. “Did you ever meet him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I rest my case.”

  I sighed. He had a point. Richie was an abhorrent human, but did he deserve to die? The jury was still out.

  “I probably would’ve let him live,” he continued. “But he thought he could blackmail me. He actually wanted money to keep quiet about the fact that he had cuckolded me. I agreed to meet him here the other night to give him the cash.”

  “And you killed him instead.”

  He grunted angrily. “He was a scumbag.”

  Still walking, still watching him, I was also curious. “Why do you pretend you can’t even use a hammer?”

  “Why should I do all the tedious stuff?” He demanded. “I worked for years doing grunt work. I paid my dues.” He scowled. “Bree used to ridicule me and give me grief about it. Sometimes I really wanted to strangle her. But I decided to bide my time.”

  He took another two steps and so did I. At the opening to the foyer, I stepped back, moving toward the staircase. He followed and kept talking. “I was the one who got the network to come look at our show. I set up the whole deal and then found out that she was going to cut me out. Me! Hell, I made this show. Without me, Bree would have been nothing. She thought she could just get rid of me? I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

  Show business really was dog-eat-dog. “I take it you drugged yourself.”

  “That was a stroke of genius, don’t you think?” He smiled and took another quick side step to his right, watching me carefully. “If I was drugged, I couldn’t be blamed for anything. I was a victim, too.”

  “Smart.” Actually, it was, and I didn’t like admitting it. I was close enough to the staircase that I leaned against and quickly ripped one of the balusters from the railing. I waved it at him like a sword and he laughed.

  “Now I’m scared.” He tossed the hammer from one hand to the other, showing off his skill.

  I walked backward, pushing open the doorway that led to the kitchen. “So you killed Bree,” I said, “and you killed Richie. You tried to kill Chloe or at least injure her.”

  I slammed the door shut and moved back into the dining room. Blake ran around to the living room and stopped under the archway between living and dining rooms. “You’re not as clever as you think you are.”

  “I was going to say the same thing about you.” I clutched the spindly baluster, ready to fight off his hammer attack. “Why did you try to kill Chloe?”

  “I don’t have anything against Chloe, but I need her out of the picture. As long as she’s around, the network will want her. I was sure that overdose would do her in, but she’s a tough one.”

  Infuriated, I fought to keep my voice calm while inside, I was boiling. “Yes, she is. Much tougher than you.”

  He shrugged. “But I’ll win in the end. After I take care of you, I’ll be going after her.”

  I gazed at him. “Did you try to go after her last night?”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “Did you come to my house looking for her?”

  He paused, then probably figured he might as well confess all of his sins. After all, who was I going to tell? “Yeah, I came by. But nobody was home and that damn dog kept yapping so I got out of there.”

  “My dog doesn’t yap,” I protested. But Robbie did have a good, loud bark. And clearly he had saved the day, driving a vicious killer away from the house. I planned to treat him to the most expensive food on the market from now on.

  For now, though, I had to keep this vicious killer focused on me. “You can’t keep killing people, Blake.”

  “I don’t plan to. But I can’t let you live. You know too much. I’m going to have to shut you up.”

  “So your plan is to kill me here and then . . . what?”

  “The woods surrounding this house will hide my getaway. I’ve got a truck parked on the far side of the trees and I’ll be able to make it to the highway before anyone knows I’m gone. I’ll lay low for a few days, then go take care of Chloe.”

  I was starting to shake from the chills I felt. I believed every word he was saying and wondered why none of his co-workers had ever realized what a cold-blooded threat B
lake Bennett was.

  “You can try,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t betray my fear. “So much for your career in showbiz.”

  He chuckled. “I’ve got plenty of cash stashed away. And there’s a nice little house waiting for me on a Caribbean island that no one will ever find.”

  “So you’ve worked it all out.” We continued to circle around the room and when I got to the archway by the living room, I made a sudden detour, dashing over to the bay window and smashing it with the baluster. I hated the idea of hurting the house, but we planned to replace those windows anyway.

  “That won’t do you any good,” he insisted. “Everyone’s gone home.”

  I refused to believe that, but now I was stuck in a corner. The small alcove by the bay window was a dead end. I had nowhere else to go. Blake laughed as he clearly realized the same thing. “Nice move. Now you’re stuck.”

  And suddenly I saw a sight that made me want to shout and scream for joy. I coughed to clear my tight throat. “I should warn you, my boyfriend is standing right behind you with a two-by-four.”

  He laughed again and it sounded like a cackle. “Yeah, right. Nice try. Trying to make me turn around? Take my eyes off you? I’m not falling for that old trick.”

  “No, not you. You’re too smart for that.”

  “Sure am.” Blake took one more step toward me and raised his hammer.

  Mac moved quickly and the wood floor creaked beneath his feet. I winced at the sound as Blake whirled around and faced him, wielding the hammer like a bludgeon.

  “No!” I screamed and ran at Blake, smashing the baluster into his head. It wasn’t enough to knock him out but it stunned him and Mac used the moment to take a swing at Blake. The two-by-four hit him squarely in the gut, causing him to gasp and fall to his knees.

  I let go of the breath I’d been holding and cried, “You did it!” I took a running leap and flew into his arms. And he caught me, like any good superhero would.

  “No, sweetheart,” Mac said. “You did it.”