A Catered Thanksgiving, page 26
Libby and Bernie ran after her.
Chapter 41
“Wait!” Libby cried.
Melissa kept going. Finally, Libby and Bernie caught up with her near the basement stairs.
Bernie grabbed Melissa by the shoulders and spun her around. “Where is Roberto?”
“I don’t know.”
“And I don’t believe you,” Bernie replied.
“It’s the truth.”
“We need to know,” Bernie said, keeping her voice level.
“I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?” Bernie asked.
“Because I love him,” Melissa cried.
“If you love him, you’ll tell us where he is before the police get here,” Libby told her. “We’ll be a lot nicer.”
“I can’t,” Melissa said. “I just can’t.”
Bernie looked her in the eye. “You can and you will.”
Melissa shook her head, avoiding her gaze.
“Is he hiding in the attic?” Libby asked.
“No.”
“In one of the bedrooms?” Bernie asked.
“I told you, I can’t tell you,” Melissa cried. She covered her face with her hands and began sobbing again.
Bernie took Melissa’s hands away from her face. “You don’t have to say anything. All you have to do is nod.”
Melissa blinked.
“Is he on the first floor?” Bernie asked.
Melissa looked straight ahead.
“Is he in the garage?”
Nothing.
“The basement? He’s in the basement, isn’t he? That’s where you were going.”
Melissa nodded ever so slightly.
Bernie dropped Melissa’s hands. “Thanks,” she said.
“He’s wounded,” Melissa said. “He’s bleeding. Please don’t hurt him.”
“If he doesn’t try to hurt us, we won’t try and hurt him,” Libby said.
“You swear?”
“Yes, we do,” Libby said.
Melissa nodded again. “Because he’s dopey from the pain pills I’ve been giving him.” She looked at her watch. “I have to change the dressing on his wound.”
“We’ll meet you down there,” Bernie said.
“No,” Melissa cried. “You’ll scare him. Let me just get my kit, and we’ll go down together.”
“It’ll be fine,” Bernie said, opening the basement door. She’d had enough of waiting.
She and Libby walked down the short, steep flight of steps to the basement.
“Do you smell gas?” Bernie asked as they descended. She held on to the railing, because the poor light made it difficult to see and the steps were uneven.
“Very faintly,” Libby replied.
Bernie squinted, trying to see Roberto in the gloom. But she didn’t. Maybe, she thought, Roberto managed to crawl away somewhere, so he couldn’t be that badly injured. Then it occurred to her that Melissa could have lied about his whereabouts. That was a possibility, too.
“I don’t see him,” she said to Libby. “I don’t think he’s here.”
Libby was just going to suggest that maybe Roberto was behind the hot water heater when she heard the snick of the lock on the basement door, which alerted her that the door had closed. She cursed and ran up the stairs and pushed on the door. It didn’t open. Bernie joined her. The door didn’t budge. It was locked. Libby started pounding on it and yelling.
“Save your breath,” Bernie told her after a couple of minutes went by. “They can’t hear you from the study.”
“So we’re locked in?” Libby said. She rubbed the sides of her hands. They were sore from beating on the door.
“Until someone comes to get us.”
“I feel like an idiot.”
Bernie sucked in air and let it out. “So do I, Libby. So do I.”
“Dad would never have gotten himself in this situation.”
“Don’t remind me.” Bernie repinned her hair. “God, Melissa is good. She played us like a champ.”
“And we went right along.”
“I wonder where Roberto is.”
“Not here. So what do we do now?” Libby asked.
Bernie shrugged. “I guess sit on the steps and wait for someone to let us out and hope that it doesn’t take too long.” And she turned and walked down to the bottom step. “Or maybe not.”
“Why the change of heart?”
“That.” And Bernie pointed.
Libby followed her finger. There were large bundles of fireworks set a foot apart over by the wall on the left-hand side.
“And that.” Bernie pointed to the wall on the right-hand side. “And that,” she said, indicating the middle wall. Both of the other walls had fireworks lined up against them. The whole basement was ringed with fireworks.
“Right,” Libby said. Her stomach began twisting into a knot. “They weren’t there when we came down before.”
“No, they weren’t.”
“So I guess they’re not being stored here.”
“I don’t think so.” Bernie pointed to the balloons lolling around on the floor next to them. “Just like I don’t think those are for a party.”
Libby’s stomach did a flip. “The balloons are filled with gas, aren’t they?”
“It would appear so,” Bernie said as she moved toward them. The closer Bernie got to the balloons, the stronger the smell of gas. She picked one up. It was heavy. She put it down again very carefully.
“What are the balloons for?” asked Libby.
“When they go off, they’ll trigger the fireworks, which will collapse the walls of the house.”
Libby swallowed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“Do you think Melissa knew about this when she locked us down here?”
“No. I don’t think so. I mean, why would she blow up her own house with all that artwork in it?”
“That’s true, but it must have taken whoever did this…”
“I’m thinking Roberto…”
“Okay, Roberto a while to do this.”
“Evidently not that long,” Bernie said.
“How can Melissa not know?” asked Libby.
“Maybe she hasn’t been down here,” Bernie responded. “Maybe she lied about Roberto being down here. Maybe she just said that to give Roberto time to get away. But it doesn’t really matter, because what we have to be talking about is how to get the hell out of here before we’re blown to kingdom come.”
Libby’s stomach did another flip. “How is Roberto going to light up the balloons?”
“My guess is that he’s either going to use a remote detonator or he’s going to fire a rocket in through one of those windows.” And Bernie gestured toward the three small windows set high up on the left-hand wall. Each window was divided into six small panes of glass. They in turn were held in place by a metal frame.
“Then let’s find the detonator,” Libby said.
Bernie shook her head. “Remember, I said remote. As in not here.”
“Let’s try the door again.”
Bernie shook her head again. She’d already thought about it and discarded that option. The door had a solid lock and a metal frame with hinges that were set on the outside. There was no way they were going to get it open without a pry bar and more muscle than either she or Libby possessed. “I think the windows are our best bet.”
“I don’t think we’re going to fit.”
“Oh yes, we will,” Bernie said. “We have to.” She walked over and carefully examined them. “At least the metal is rusted. So that’s a good thing. But then we’re going to have to dig our way through the snow.”
Libby thought that they’d worry about that problem when they came to it. Right now they needed something to stand on. She looked around and caught sight of an old bike lying in the far corner of the basement. She went and got it while Bernie carefully moved the fireworks underneath the window to the other side of the basement. Libby stood the bike along the wall and went to look for something to break the window with. She found a spade buried underneath a pile of old newspapers, brought it back, and showed it to Bernie.
“That should work,” Bernie said.
She climbed on the seat of the bike while Libby held it steady. When Bernie was ready, Libby handed her the spade.
“Just don’t cut yourself,” Libby warned.
“I’ll be happy if that’s the worst that will happen to me,” Bernie told her as she carefully used the end of the spade to knock the glass out of the metal frame. Then she handed the spade to Libby, grasped the metal edges of the window frame, and pulled. She could feel the frame start to move. She pulled harder. It began to loosen up.
“Let me,” Libby said.
She and Bernie changed places.
Libby pulled as hard as she could. The frame popped out, and Libby fell backward onto the floor. “Ta da,” she cried, holding it up.
Bernie got back on the bike and began to dig the snow away from the opening. By the time she was done, she was covered with the stuff and there was a mound of snow on the floor, but she could wiggle through to the outside. Once she was outside, she lay down on her stomach and extended her hand to Libby, who was balancing on the seat of the bicycle, and pulled her through to the outside.
“I’m going to kill Roberto when I find him,” Bernie gasped out as they lay in the snow.
“Include me in.”
Thirty seconds later Bernie managed to sit up. “We have to get everyone out of the house. We have to do that now.”
Libby nodded. Her arms were aching, and her fingers were raw and bleeding, and she was feeling light-headed from breathing in the gas fumes. She wanted nothing more than to stay where she was, but she knew that she couldn’t. They had to get back and warn the others. They were rounding the bend to the front door when they saw a figure in the snow. It was dressed in black and carrying a Roman candle.
“Roberto!” Libby cried.
She and Bernie moved toward him. He noticed and began moving faster. Bernie and Libby picked up their pace. The snow was heavy and deep, and Libby felt as if they were wading through treacle, but they were closing the distance. They were a little less than a foot away when Bernie made a flying leap and tackled Roberto. They both fell in the snow. The Roman candle rolled away, and Libby grabbed it. She turned back to find that Bernie was straddling the figure. Libby went over and ripped off his mask.
Bernie blinked. “Melissa?”
“I am El Huron,” Melissa replied.
“You are Melissa Field.”
“I am El Huron.” Melissa had lowered her voice almost a full octave.
“Why did you try and blow us up?” Bernie asked her.
Melissa licked her lips. “El Huron serves the cause of justice.”
“Did you kill your dad?” Bernie asked.
Melissa smiled and said nothing.
“Your brother?” Libby asked.
“El Huron serves the cause of truth,” Melissa said.
“Where’s Roberto?” Bernie asked.
Melissa remained silent. Her hand crept toward her pants pocket. El Huron was prepared. El Huron was always prepared. El Huron had a gravity knife in there. It was an old but useful weapon. El Huron slowly brought it out of her pocket. La morena was not looking. It would be a simple matter of stabbing her. The stomach was best.
Bernie caught the movement of Melissa’s wrist and saw the glint of something in her hand.
“Help!” she cried to Libby as she grabbed for the knife.
Libby leaned over and caught Melissa’s hand and tried to pry her fingers off the handle, but Melissa was stronger than she was.
“I’m trying,” Libby told Bernie, but she could feel herself losing ground.
“Try harder,” Bernie said. She looked at Libby, and then she looked back at Melissa and socked Melissa as hard as she could in the jaw.
Melissa dropped the knife and Libby picked it up. Then she grabbed Melissa’s hands.
She was telling Bernie they needed something to tie Melissa up with when she heard the noise of a motor. She looked up to see a Sno-Cat racing toward them. It halted in front of them, and Brandon and Marvin jumped out.
Brandon bowed. “At your service, madam.”
“The cavalry has arrived,” Marvin added.
“Oh my God!” Bernie cried. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Your dad got worried when he couldn’t reach you, so he called me, and I called Marvin, and he called a friend who had a Sno-Cat, and here we are,” Brandon told her.
“So who is the woman you were just punching?” Marvin asked Bernie.
“This is Melissa Field,” Bernie replied, “and she killed her father and brother and was just about to blow up the whole house with everyone in it.”
Melissa looked up from the snow. “I am El Huron, the righter of wrongs.”
“You’re Melissa.” Libby said.
“No. I have sought justice for my mother.”
“Oh, shut up,” Bernie said and punched her again.
Chapter 42
Sean looked at Bernie and Libby. They were sitting in the living room of their flat with his friend Clyde, drinking 100 percent Kona coffee from a press pot and eating the ginger cookies and lemon bars that Bernie and Libby had made the day before. It had been two days since the Field house debacle, and Sean was still filled with gratitude every time he looked at his daughters.
“She’s crazy,” Bernie said, referring to Melissa.
Clyde inclined his head. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s just pretending. I guess that’s for the psych guys to tell us.”
“I don’t believe in multiple personalities,” Libby said.
“Well, one of her killed three people,” Sean noted.
“Do we know that for a fact?” Bernie asked.
Clyde took a sip of his coffee and another bite of his lemon bar. “That’s what she said, and I don’t think there’s any reason to doubt her confession. She said…okay, El Huron said…that she killed her dad to get back at him for killing her mom and she killed Geoff and Roberto because they got in the way.”
“And she was going to kill everyone else, including us?” Bernie asked.
Clyde shrugged. “That was the general idea. She needed the money. She had a lot of bad debts with some very not nice people. It turns out the artwork was heavily insured.”
“So it might not have been about vengeance, after all,” Libby said.
“No.” Clyde took another sip of coffee. “It might have been about good old-fashioned moola, and this whole other person she made up is just a convenient excuse. Or not.”
Sean leaned back in his chair. There really was no place like home. “She’s the classic bad seed,” Sean said to Bernie and Libby. “And she would have killed a lot more people if you two hadn’t stopped her.”
Bernie nibbled around the edge of her ginger cookie. It was slightly overbaked along the edges and a little bit underbaked in the center, which was the way she liked them. “Where did you find Roberto’s body?” she asked.
Clyde pressed his thumb down on the crumbs from the lemon bar and conveyed them to his mouth. “Out behind the bunker. I have to say she’d done a good job of burying him.”
Libby put another spoonful of sugar in her cup and stirred it. She watched the brown liquid swirling around. “So he was dead before we got there?”
“He was dead for two weeks, near as we can tell.”
“INS never picked him up?” Libby asked.
Clyde shook his head. “I don’t think they got the chance.”
“And Melissa called the INS on Alma, not Monty,” Bernie said.
Clyde nodded. “That’s what their records show.”
“But everyone thought it was Monty,” Bernie said.
“Because that’s what Melissa told everybody—in confidence, of course,” Clyde said.
Libby took another nibble of her cookie. “So Melissa set everything up from the get-go. She made it appear that she was Roberto…”
“Because if he were around, he would be the natural one to blame,” Bernie said, finishing her sister’s sentence for her.
“And she wrote and planted the letter in Alma’s drawer,” Clyde said.
“So Roberto wasn’t Monty’s son?” Bernie asked.
Clyde shook his head. “Nope.”
“And the ferret?” Libby asked.
“We located Alma,” Clyde said. “According to her, the ferret was real. But she died a natural death.”
“Poor lady,” Sean said. “Losing your kid.” He was silent for a moment. “I can’t even imagine.” He reached for another lemon bar. Of all the things his daughters baked, these were his favorite. Except maybe for their apple pies. And brownies. And chocolate chip cookies. He was unbelievably lucky.
“What about Monty’s will?” Libby asked. “Who gets everything?”
Clyde reached over and snagged another lemon bar. “Evidently, he left everything to some distant cousin in the UK. The brothers are talking about challenging the will, so it’s going to be tied up for years.”
“And most of the money will go to the lawyers,” Sean observed.
Clyde bobbed his head. “Exactly.”
Everyone sat there for a moment, listening to the reassuring hum of business being conducted downstairs. It was Libby who broke the silence.
“I’ve decided we’re going to have a late Thanksgiving this year,” she announced. “On this coming Saturday. At four.” She turned to Clyde. “It would be nice if you and the missus could come.” She was going to invite Brandon and Marvin and Ines, as well. That would make eight. Eight was a good number for a dinner party.
Clyde grinned. “It would be my pleasure.” He loved to eat, and the food at the Simmons’ house was his favorite thing to eat. It was always good, and there was always plenty of it.
“Because,” Libby continued, “we have a lot to be thankful for.”
“Amen to that,” Bernie and Sean said at the same time.
Recipes
Thanksgiving is one of those holidays with a canonical menu. Everyone has turkey and stuffing and gravy and sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce and pie. But, to paraphrase an expression, as with so many things, the devil is in the details. The following recipes are loved variations on some of these themes.
Chapter 41
“Wait!” Libby cried.
Melissa kept going. Finally, Libby and Bernie caught up with her near the basement stairs.
Bernie grabbed Melissa by the shoulders and spun her around. “Where is Roberto?”
“I don’t know.”
“And I don’t believe you,” Bernie replied.
“It’s the truth.”
“We need to know,” Bernie said, keeping her voice level.
“I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?” Bernie asked.
“Because I love him,” Melissa cried.
“If you love him, you’ll tell us where he is before the police get here,” Libby told her. “We’ll be a lot nicer.”
“I can’t,” Melissa said. “I just can’t.”
Bernie looked her in the eye. “You can and you will.”
Melissa shook her head, avoiding her gaze.
“Is he hiding in the attic?” Libby asked.
“No.”
“In one of the bedrooms?” Bernie asked.
“I told you, I can’t tell you,” Melissa cried. She covered her face with her hands and began sobbing again.
Bernie took Melissa’s hands away from her face. “You don’t have to say anything. All you have to do is nod.”
Melissa blinked.
“Is he on the first floor?” Bernie asked.
Melissa looked straight ahead.
“Is he in the garage?”
Nothing.
“The basement? He’s in the basement, isn’t he? That’s where you were going.”
Melissa nodded ever so slightly.
Bernie dropped Melissa’s hands. “Thanks,” she said.
“He’s wounded,” Melissa said. “He’s bleeding. Please don’t hurt him.”
“If he doesn’t try to hurt us, we won’t try and hurt him,” Libby said.
“You swear?”
“Yes, we do,” Libby said.
Melissa nodded again. “Because he’s dopey from the pain pills I’ve been giving him.” She looked at her watch. “I have to change the dressing on his wound.”
“We’ll meet you down there,” Bernie said.
“No,” Melissa cried. “You’ll scare him. Let me just get my kit, and we’ll go down together.”
“It’ll be fine,” Bernie said, opening the basement door. She’d had enough of waiting.
She and Libby walked down the short, steep flight of steps to the basement.
“Do you smell gas?” Bernie asked as they descended. She held on to the railing, because the poor light made it difficult to see and the steps were uneven.
“Very faintly,” Libby replied.
Bernie squinted, trying to see Roberto in the gloom. But she didn’t. Maybe, she thought, Roberto managed to crawl away somewhere, so he couldn’t be that badly injured. Then it occurred to her that Melissa could have lied about his whereabouts. That was a possibility, too.
“I don’t see him,” she said to Libby. “I don’t think he’s here.”
Libby was just going to suggest that maybe Roberto was behind the hot water heater when she heard the snick of the lock on the basement door, which alerted her that the door had closed. She cursed and ran up the stairs and pushed on the door. It didn’t open. Bernie joined her. The door didn’t budge. It was locked. Libby started pounding on it and yelling.
“Save your breath,” Bernie told her after a couple of minutes went by. “They can’t hear you from the study.”
“So we’re locked in?” Libby said. She rubbed the sides of her hands. They were sore from beating on the door.
“Until someone comes to get us.”
“I feel like an idiot.”
Bernie sucked in air and let it out. “So do I, Libby. So do I.”
“Dad would never have gotten himself in this situation.”
“Don’t remind me.” Bernie repinned her hair. “God, Melissa is good. She played us like a champ.”
“And we went right along.”
“I wonder where Roberto is.”
“Not here. So what do we do now?” Libby asked.
Bernie shrugged. “I guess sit on the steps and wait for someone to let us out and hope that it doesn’t take too long.” And she turned and walked down to the bottom step. “Or maybe not.”
“Why the change of heart?”
“That.” And Bernie pointed.
Libby followed her finger. There were large bundles of fireworks set a foot apart over by the wall on the left-hand side.
“And that.” Bernie pointed to the wall on the right-hand side. “And that,” she said, indicating the middle wall. Both of the other walls had fireworks lined up against them. The whole basement was ringed with fireworks.
“Right,” Libby said. Her stomach began twisting into a knot. “They weren’t there when we came down before.”
“No, they weren’t.”
“So I guess they’re not being stored here.”
“I don’t think so.” Bernie pointed to the balloons lolling around on the floor next to them. “Just like I don’t think those are for a party.”
Libby’s stomach did a flip. “The balloons are filled with gas, aren’t they?”
“It would appear so,” Bernie said as she moved toward them. The closer Bernie got to the balloons, the stronger the smell of gas. She picked one up. It was heavy. She put it down again very carefully.
“What are the balloons for?” asked Libby.
“When they go off, they’ll trigger the fireworks, which will collapse the walls of the house.”
Libby swallowed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“Do you think Melissa knew about this when she locked us down here?”
“No. I don’t think so. I mean, why would she blow up her own house with all that artwork in it?”
“That’s true, but it must have taken whoever did this…”
“I’m thinking Roberto…”
“Okay, Roberto a while to do this.”
“Evidently not that long,” Bernie said.
“How can Melissa not know?” asked Libby.
“Maybe she hasn’t been down here,” Bernie responded. “Maybe she lied about Roberto being down here. Maybe she just said that to give Roberto time to get away. But it doesn’t really matter, because what we have to be talking about is how to get the hell out of here before we’re blown to kingdom come.”
Libby’s stomach did another flip. “How is Roberto going to light up the balloons?”
“My guess is that he’s either going to use a remote detonator or he’s going to fire a rocket in through one of those windows.” And Bernie gestured toward the three small windows set high up on the left-hand wall. Each window was divided into six small panes of glass. They in turn were held in place by a metal frame.
“Then let’s find the detonator,” Libby said.
Bernie shook her head. “Remember, I said remote. As in not here.”
“Let’s try the door again.”
Bernie shook her head again. She’d already thought about it and discarded that option. The door had a solid lock and a metal frame with hinges that were set on the outside. There was no way they were going to get it open without a pry bar and more muscle than either she or Libby possessed. “I think the windows are our best bet.”
“I don’t think we’re going to fit.”
“Oh yes, we will,” Bernie said. “We have to.” She walked over and carefully examined them. “At least the metal is rusted. So that’s a good thing. But then we’re going to have to dig our way through the snow.”
Libby thought that they’d worry about that problem when they came to it. Right now they needed something to stand on. She looked around and caught sight of an old bike lying in the far corner of the basement. She went and got it while Bernie carefully moved the fireworks underneath the window to the other side of the basement. Libby stood the bike along the wall and went to look for something to break the window with. She found a spade buried underneath a pile of old newspapers, brought it back, and showed it to Bernie.
“That should work,” Bernie said.
She climbed on the seat of the bike while Libby held it steady. When Bernie was ready, Libby handed her the spade.
“Just don’t cut yourself,” Libby warned.
“I’ll be happy if that’s the worst that will happen to me,” Bernie told her as she carefully used the end of the spade to knock the glass out of the metal frame. Then she handed the spade to Libby, grasped the metal edges of the window frame, and pulled. She could feel the frame start to move. She pulled harder. It began to loosen up.
“Let me,” Libby said.
She and Bernie changed places.
Libby pulled as hard as she could. The frame popped out, and Libby fell backward onto the floor. “Ta da,” she cried, holding it up.
Bernie got back on the bike and began to dig the snow away from the opening. By the time she was done, she was covered with the stuff and there was a mound of snow on the floor, but she could wiggle through to the outside. Once she was outside, she lay down on her stomach and extended her hand to Libby, who was balancing on the seat of the bicycle, and pulled her through to the outside.
“I’m going to kill Roberto when I find him,” Bernie gasped out as they lay in the snow.
“Include me in.”
Thirty seconds later Bernie managed to sit up. “We have to get everyone out of the house. We have to do that now.”
Libby nodded. Her arms were aching, and her fingers were raw and bleeding, and she was feeling light-headed from breathing in the gas fumes. She wanted nothing more than to stay where she was, but she knew that she couldn’t. They had to get back and warn the others. They were rounding the bend to the front door when they saw a figure in the snow. It was dressed in black and carrying a Roman candle.
“Roberto!” Libby cried.
She and Bernie moved toward him. He noticed and began moving faster. Bernie and Libby picked up their pace. The snow was heavy and deep, and Libby felt as if they were wading through treacle, but they were closing the distance. They were a little less than a foot away when Bernie made a flying leap and tackled Roberto. They both fell in the snow. The Roman candle rolled away, and Libby grabbed it. She turned back to find that Bernie was straddling the figure. Libby went over and ripped off his mask.
Bernie blinked. “Melissa?”
“I am El Huron,” Melissa replied.
“You are Melissa Field.”
“I am El Huron.” Melissa had lowered her voice almost a full octave.
“Why did you try and blow us up?” Bernie asked her.
Melissa licked her lips. “El Huron serves the cause of justice.”
“Did you kill your dad?” Bernie asked.
Melissa smiled and said nothing.
“Your brother?” Libby asked.
“El Huron serves the cause of truth,” Melissa said.
“Where’s Roberto?” Bernie asked.
Melissa remained silent. Her hand crept toward her pants pocket. El Huron was prepared. El Huron was always prepared. El Huron had a gravity knife in there. It was an old but useful weapon. El Huron slowly brought it out of her pocket. La morena was not looking. It would be a simple matter of stabbing her. The stomach was best.
Bernie caught the movement of Melissa’s wrist and saw the glint of something in her hand.
“Help!” she cried to Libby as she grabbed for the knife.
Libby leaned over and caught Melissa’s hand and tried to pry her fingers off the handle, but Melissa was stronger than she was.
“I’m trying,” Libby told Bernie, but she could feel herself losing ground.
“Try harder,” Bernie said. She looked at Libby, and then she looked back at Melissa and socked Melissa as hard as she could in the jaw.
Melissa dropped the knife and Libby picked it up. Then she grabbed Melissa’s hands.
She was telling Bernie they needed something to tie Melissa up with when she heard the noise of a motor. She looked up to see a Sno-Cat racing toward them. It halted in front of them, and Brandon and Marvin jumped out.
Brandon bowed. “At your service, madam.”
“The cavalry has arrived,” Marvin added.
“Oh my God!” Bernie cried. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Your dad got worried when he couldn’t reach you, so he called me, and I called Marvin, and he called a friend who had a Sno-Cat, and here we are,” Brandon told her.
“So who is the woman you were just punching?” Marvin asked Bernie.
“This is Melissa Field,” Bernie replied, “and she killed her father and brother and was just about to blow up the whole house with everyone in it.”
Melissa looked up from the snow. “I am El Huron, the righter of wrongs.”
“You’re Melissa.” Libby said.
“No. I have sought justice for my mother.”
“Oh, shut up,” Bernie said and punched her again.
Chapter 42
Sean looked at Bernie and Libby. They were sitting in the living room of their flat with his friend Clyde, drinking 100 percent Kona coffee from a press pot and eating the ginger cookies and lemon bars that Bernie and Libby had made the day before. It had been two days since the Field house debacle, and Sean was still filled with gratitude every time he looked at his daughters.
“She’s crazy,” Bernie said, referring to Melissa.
Clyde inclined his head. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s just pretending. I guess that’s for the psych guys to tell us.”
“I don’t believe in multiple personalities,” Libby said.
“Well, one of her killed three people,” Sean noted.
“Do we know that for a fact?” Bernie asked.
Clyde took a sip of his coffee and another bite of his lemon bar. “That’s what she said, and I don’t think there’s any reason to doubt her confession. She said…okay, El Huron said…that she killed her dad to get back at him for killing her mom and she killed Geoff and Roberto because they got in the way.”
“And she was going to kill everyone else, including us?” Bernie asked.
Clyde shrugged. “That was the general idea. She needed the money. She had a lot of bad debts with some very not nice people. It turns out the artwork was heavily insured.”
“So it might not have been about vengeance, after all,” Libby said.
“No.” Clyde took another sip of coffee. “It might have been about good old-fashioned moola, and this whole other person she made up is just a convenient excuse. Or not.”
Sean leaned back in his chair. There really was no place like home. “She’s the classic bad seed,” Sean said to Bernie and Libby. “And she would have killed a lot more people if you two hadn’t stopped her.”
Bernie nibbled around the edge of her ginger cookie. It was slightly overbaked along the edges and a little bit underbaked in the center, which was the way she liked them. “Where did you find Roberto’s body?” she asked.
Clyde pressed his thumb down on the crumbs from the lemon bar and conveyed them to his mouth. “Out behind the bunker. I have to say she’d done a good job of burying him.”
Libby put another spoonful of sugar in her cup and stirred it. She watched the brown liquid swirling around. “So he was dead before we got there?”
“He was dead for two weeks, near as we can tell.”
“INS never picked him up?” Libby asked.
Clyde shook his head. “I don’t think they got the chance.”
“And Melissa called the INS on Alma, not Monty,” Bernie said.
Clyde nodded. “That’s what their records show.”
“But everyone thought it was Monty,” Bernie said.
“Because that’s what Melissa told everybody—in confidence, of course,” Clyde said.
Libby took another nibble of her cookie. “So Melissa set everything up from the get-go. She made it appear that she was Roberto…”
“Because if he were around, he would be the natural one to blame,” Bernie said, finishing her sister’s sentence for her.
“And she wrote and planted the letter in Alma’s drawer,” Clyde said.
“So Roberto wasn’t Monty’s son?” Bernie asked.
Clyde shook his head. “Nope.”
“And the ferret?” Libby asked.
“We located Alma,” Clyde said. “According to her, the ferret was real. But she died a natural death.”
“Poor lady,” Sean said. “Losing your kid.” He was silent for a moment. “I can’t even imagine.” He reached for another lemon bar. Of all the things his daughters baked, these were his favorite. Except maybe for their apple pies. And brownies. And chocolate chip cookies. He was unbelievably lucky.
“What about Monty’s will?” Libby asked. “Who gets everything?”
Clyde reached over and snagged another lemon bar. “Evidently, he left everything to some distant cousin in the UK. The brothers are talking about challenging the will, so it’s going to be tied up for years.”
“And most of the money will go to the lawyers,” Sean observed.
Clyde bobbed his head. “Exactly.”
Everyone sat there for a moment, listening to the reassuring hum of business being conducted downstairs. It was Libby who broke the silence.
“I’ve decided we’re going to have a late Thanksgiving this year,” she announced. “On this coming Saturday. At four.” She turned to Clyde. “It would be nice if you and the missus could come.” She was going to invite Brandon and Marvin and Ines, as well. That would make eight. Eight was a good number for a dinner party.
Clyde grinned. “It would be my pleasure.” He loved to eat, and the food at the Simmons’ house was his favorite thing to eat. It was always good, and there was always plenty of it.
“Because,” Libby continued, “we have a lot to be thankful for.”
“Amen to that,” Bernie and Sean said at the same time.
Recipes
Thanksgiving is one of those holidays with a canonical menu. Everyone has turkey and stuffing and gravy and sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce and pie. But, to paraphrase an expression, as with so many things, the devil is in the details. The following recipes are loved variations on some of these themes.
