Death Rides a Pony, page 23
The figure stepped through the remnants of the curtains and into the booth. A bright ribbon of lightning snaked across the charcoal sky, illuminating the person’s face. In unison, Hope and Summer gasped. It wasn’t Dylan.
TWENTY-FOUR
He was drenched from the rain. His hair was flattened against his head, his clothes were saturated, and there was so much water dripping from his face that his eyes appeared to be streaming tears. But he wasn’t crying. There was no mistake about that. Gary Fletcher’s expression was unambiguously cold and hard.
Outside the booth, the storm continued to rage. Jagged bolts of lightning were met by booming thunder. The wind roared, and the rain pounded on the earth. But inside the booth, there was an eerie silence. No one spoke. Gary didn’t move or make any attempt to dry himself. His gaze was fixed on Summer with such intensity that Hope shifted uncomfortably. Any lingering doubts were gone. It hadn’t been a mirage beneath the awning at Amethyst’s booth or an optical illusion behind the flap doors of the tent. There could be no more strained excuses and tenuous explanations. Gary had been following Summer.
‘Hello, Gary,’ Summer said after a long, tense moment. ‘What are you doing here?’
Her voice held a forced friendliness. Gary’s tone was not as cordial.
‘Morris Henshaw should mind his own business,’ he growled.
Summer cast her sister an apprehensive look. If Gary had heard the conversation with Morris, then he had also heard Summer’s subsequent remarks accusing him of dragging his feet on choosing a new realtor so that he could keep living and partying in the house.
‘You don’t need to go to Randall White’s office tomorrow,’ Gary informed her. ‘You can call and tell him that his services are no longer required.’
‘But why,’ Summer began in confusion, ‘would his services no longer be—’
Gary cut her short. ‘We are not selling the house.’
There was a pause, then Summer’s words came slowly as though she was choosing them carefully. ‘If you’d like to stay in the house for a while longer – or even permanently – I’m sure that we can work something out. The lawyer could come up with an arrangement that would allow you to—’
Again Gary stopped her. ‘I don’t need “an arrangement” to be allowed to live in my own home. And I have every intention of staying there permanently – with you.’
Stunned, Summer stared at him.
Hope wasn’t nearly so startled. She had previously wondered whether Gary might be using the house as a way to hold on to Summer and prevent their divorce from being finalized. But she was quite certain that a violent thunderstorm was not the best time to commence a debate over Gary’s marital infidelity and Summer’s resultant lack of interest in continuing their relationship. Plus, there was a strange look in Gary’s eyes that was beginning to make her nervous. The wind chose that moment to abruptly switch directions, and Hope used it as an opportunity to try to move off the subject.
‘No doubt the two of you have plenty to discuss,’ she said, ‘but the booth isn’t a good place for it, considering that the whole thing might be swept away at any second. It would be much better to wait until—’
‘Stay out of this, Hope,’ Gary snapped.
She responded with an acquiescent nod. His behavior didn’t seem to be entirely rational, and she didn’t want to provoke him further. On the contrary, Hope had the distinct feeling that she and Summer should get away from Gary as soon as possible, even though that required leaving the booth during the middle of the storm.
‘Of course, you and Summer need to make your decisions together, without influence from me or anyone else. But right now, you’re soaked to the bone, and Summer and I are getting pretty wet ourselves from the blowing rain.’ Hope nudged her sister with her elbow, trying to give her a hint to play along. ‘We really should go somewhere dry and warm before we all end up with pneumonia.’
Summer must have understood the plan, because she wasted no time in adding, ‘You’re shivering, Gary. I can see it. That isn’t healthy. You’ve always been susceptible to sore throats and coughs.’
‘I’m fine,’ he replied brusquely. ‘And you’re fine, too. Nobody will end up with pneumonia or any other ailment – not unless you make me mad.’
Hope and Summer exchanged a glance. What did that mean?
‘We are not selling the house,’ Gary repeated with emphasis.
‘All right,’ Summer answered quickly. ‘We won’t sell the house. Problem solved.’
‘Davis Scott wanted to sell it. He said I had to move out.’
‘Yes, well’ – Summer used her mildest, most appeasing tone – ‘you don’t have to move out anymore.’
‘Damn right I don’t have to move out! I told Davis I wasn’t leaving, and he told me I had signed the listing contract requiring me to follow through. Except that wasn’t our agreement! The listing contract wasn’t supposed to be real, and the house wasn’t supposed to sell. But Davis had gone to your shop with that dippy girlfriend of his. He saw the brownstone, and that altered everything.’
Hope and Summer exchanged another glance. Davis’s interest in the brownstone had been a problem from the very first moment that he had mentioned its potential sale and the attic had expressed its displeasure.
Gary began pacing back and forth in front of them, clenching and unclenching his fists. ‘Davis thought that if he could sell the house, then afterward he could convince you to sell the brownstone. The brownstone was the big prize for him. But I didn’t care about the brownstone. All I cared about was the house! I explained that to him again and again. He just laughed and said I should be smarter and less sentimental. I was here, by the booth, when Davis came out in a huff the other night. His girlfriend ran after him, but she was limping and couldn’t catch up to him. While she was hobbling around looking for him, her dog’s bandana got snagged on the edge of a post and came off. After she turned around to go back to your booth, I went over and picked it up.’
An icy shiver crawled down Hope’s spine. Had she heard him correctly? If Gary was the one who had picked up Percy’s missing bandana – or, more accurately, Percy’s missing scarf – then that meant Gary was the one who had …
Summer must have come to the same ghastly realization, because all the blood drained from her face. ‘My god, Gary,’ she whispered. ‘What have you done?’
‘I didn’t mean to do it!’ he cried. ‘I followed Davis to give him the bandana for his girlfriend and explain once more that I didn’t want to sell the house. But he was in a foul mood and wouldn’t listen to anything I said. He started cursing and told me I should quit being stupid. He was sitting on the edge of the carousel, leaning against one of the horses and smirking at me. No matter what I did, he wouldn’t stop smirking! I got so mad. We argued and fought. I don’t know how it happened. Suddenly, he was dead.’
Hope shuddered. Summer drew a ragged breath.
‘I didn’t mean to do it!’ Gary cried again.
His words had a pleading quality, as though he was a child seeking forgiveness after having accidentally damaged the neighbor’s fence with a ball or trampled the prized tulip border with his bicycle. The difference was that the fence could be mended and the tulips would regrow the following spring. Davis Scott could not be brought back to life.
Gary continued pacing in such an agitated manner that he didn’t notice the cord that Dylan had removed from the back curtain and left lying on the ground. His foot stumbled over it, and he stopped to look down at it. Hope and Summer looked at the cord also, and it instantly brought to mind the matching cord that they had discovered so horribly wrapped around Sean’s neck that morning.
‘And Sean?’ It was Summer’s turn to plead, asking Gary to deny it, not wanting him to be responsible for the attempt on Sean’s life, too. ‘Why go after him?’
‘Because he saw me,’ Gary admitted bluntly. ‘Sean saw me follow Davis to the carousel.’
Reaching down, Gary picked up the cord and whipped one end of it against the side of the booth in frustration. The motion was so sharp that the cord snapped back against his arm, slicing open the skin. Bright red blood rushed to the surface of the cut. And then Hope saw the cut on Gary’s other arm. Unlike Melody’s wrist, Sean’s elbow, Stanley’s knee, Amelia’s palm, and even Jocelyn’s finger, there was no bandage covering it. Although the blood on the old cut had clotted, the wound was raw and visibly irritated, indicating that the spot had been injured more than once over the past few days. There could be no doubt. That cut was the source of the blood on the carousel platform, and the gate in the garden, and the cord that had been used to strangle Sean.
Gary whipped the cord against the side of the booth again, this time with considerably more anger than frustration. His demeanor began to change, too. The child-like angst and beseeching for forgiveness vanished. Gary’s expression became just as cold and hard as when he had first entered the booth. He pushed the damp hair back from his forehead and turned to face Summer.
‘This is your fault,’ he said.
Summer’s mouth instinctively opened to argue, but she caught herself.
‘Without you, I never would have known what Sean saw. Without you’ – Gary’s voice rose – ‘Sean wouldn’t have realized it himself. But then you decided to tell him that I was following you. And Sean – like Morris Henshaw and Randall White and all the others – couldn’t mind his own business. He told me to stop. He told me that I should leave you alone. And I told him that he should keep his filthy hands off you.’
A slight protest now emerged from Summer’s lips.
‘Don’t pretend that it didn’t happen,’ Gary spat. ‘That was something I saw. You and Sean looked awfully cozy sitting together in the tent, laughing and drinking and flirting. You seem to have forgotten that you are my wife!’
Gary took a heated step toward Summer, and Hope hastily took her own step forward in an attempt to calm the situation.
‘It was the same with Dylan,’ she said quickly. ‘Dylan misinterpreted what he saw in the tent, too. But Summer and Sean weren’t flirting. There was nothing romantic about it at all. Sean was sharing a sad story about his sister and nephew—’
‘I told you to stay out of this, Hope,’ Gary barked.
‘Yes. I just wanted to explain—’
‘I don’t need you to explain anything regarding me or my wife. I’ve tried to be patient. I know how fond Summer is of you, so I’ve restrained myself up to this point. But no more! I’ve warned you, and I won’t warn you again. I warned Sean, too. And he didn’t listen. He had to go running to Summer. He wanted to tell her what I had said and what he had seen. I couldn’t allow that. When I caught him creeping into the garden at the brownstone last night, it made me mad. Don’t make me mad!’
His eyes bulged with fury, and his face was almost as red as the blood dripping freely from his arm. Hope didn’t dare to utter a syllable or even draw a breath. The storm was gradually moving away. The rain had slowed, and the thunder had dimmed to a distant rumble. But one peril had been replaced by another. Instead of a flood or a lightning strike, there was Gary.
He snarled at her for a moment longer, then his focus returned to Summer. ‘I don’t want to hear any more about Sean!’ he commanded her.
Summer was wise enough to nod without dispute.
‘And tomorrow you’re moving back to our house.’
She nodded again.
‘There will be no divorce. There will also be no further complaining about …’
As Gary began a list of decrees, Hope tried to figure out how she and Summer could get away from him. The first option was to run. She looked around. The walls of the booth were tilting on every side, and the back portion of the makeshift ceiling was in the process of collapsing. The twinkle lights and curtains were tangled together. Chairs and debris were strewn around. The booth was an obstacle course, and it seemed unlikely that they could navigate it successfully before Gary realized what they were doing.
The second option was to sit tight. Sooner or later, someone would come to the booth to check on them. But Hope didn’t know when that would be, especially considering that she had no idea how the conditions were on the rest of the festival grounds. Gary was already dangerously unstable. It wouldn’t take much more for him to completely lose control. She and Summer couldn’t simply bide their time and wait for an eventual rescue. They had to act to protect themselves now.
She looked around again, searching for a potential weapon. Nothing of use was immediately visible. The table was too heavy. The chairs were all still in one piece. The curtains were too soft. And Gary was in possession of the loose cord. There was a soggy cardboard box in the corner that had the possibility of containing something helpful. Hope took a slow, cautious step toward it, assuming that Gary would remain concentrated on Summer. She was in error. He instantly interpreted her movement as interference.
‘How many times do I have to tell you to stay the hell out of this!’ he bellowed at her.
Before Hope could respond, Gary charged forward and flung her to the ground. She slid across the wet grass and slammed head first against a leg of the table.
‘Hope!’ Summer cried.
‘Don’t worry about her!’ Gary shouted, spinning back toward his wife. ‘Worry about yourself …’
Hope didn’t hear the rest. She was too dazed. Her head hurt, and her vision was blurred. There was a warm oozing on her brow. Lifting her hand to touch it, she felt something sticky. When she looked at her fingers, they were covered with crimson. She tried to stand up, but her limbs didn’t seem to comprehend her brain. She half sat, half leaned against the table leg, dizzy and unstable.
Gary was yelling ferociously, and Summer was replying in a quiet, fraught manner. All the words sounded garbled to Hope. But she understood their import. There was no longer any way to placate Gary. Summer was going to feel his full wrath.
Her hazy mind struggled to think. She blinked hard, trying to clear her foggy gaze. And then she saw it. The crystal ball. Although its velvet cover had blown away during the storm, the crystal ball hadn’t budged an inch from where she had deposited it on the ground the day before. It wasn’t far from her. She might be able to reach it.
Gary was approaching Summer, the cord grasped tightly in his fists. Summer was backing away from him, her hands raised defensively. Gary was going to strangle Summer the same way that he had strangled Sean and Davis Scott.
Hope stretched out her arm. With crimson fingers, she took hold of the crystal ball. She knew that she only had one chance. If she threw it and missed, Gary’s rage would be deadly. With supreme effort, Hope struggled to her knees. She lifted the crystal ball, directed her aim as well as she could, and hurled the missile with all of her might.
The crystal ball struck Gary on his left temple. His head snapped toward her, venom in his eyes. He started to turn, tottered, and, a moment later, crashed to the ground. For a few horrible seconds, Hope thought that she might have killed him. With immense relief, she watched Gary’s chest rise and fall. He was insensible but still alive.
Summer collapsed in a tearful, exhausted heap. Hope sank back down against the supportive leg of the table. The sun broke through the last remaining clouds. A songbird twittered high up on a wire. Steam rose all around them as the cold rain evaporated from the warm grass.
Hope didn’t know how long they sat there. And then, suddenly, they were no longer alone. Dylan was beside her, examining her head and asking her a flurry of questions. Somebody – was it Nate? – was talking to Summer. Other people seemed to be scurrying around. One of them called to Dylan, seeking his assistance with Gary. Dylan declined, but the person pressed him.
Dylan looked at Hope questioningly. ‘You’ll be all right? I’ll only be gone for a minute.’
‘I’m fine. Check on Gary.’
‘You’re sure? You won’t—’ Dylan hesitated.
Hope smiled. ‘I won’t disappear,’ she promised him.
Carol Miller, Death Rides a Pony
