Biscotti and Brutality, page 10
“No,” Ben whispered to himself, removing his hand from his black utility belt. “Mr. Frosellan, I'm not going to arrest you. You may have killed Richard Banks, but I think I might have jumped the gun by stating your actions were cold-blooded. For that, I'm sorry.”
“Why?” Steven asked. “In your eyes, I'm a killer. I won't pretend to be anything other than I am, Sheriff Nayes. I have the blood of many innocent men on my hands. My hands are stained. I deserve to be put to death.”
“Have you asked for forgiveness?” Bethany asked.
“I already have,” Steven confessed. “Why do you think I'm trying to atone for my crimes?”
“But not in the right way,” Bethany pointed out, allowing her voice to soften. Why in the world do I care for this strange man? My own life seems to be a great mess, and to make matters worse, the snowman that once haunted Sarah is now after me. I shouldn't care one way or the other about Steven Frosellan. Yet...I can't deny that I do. “Mr. Frosellan, there are other ways to atone.”
“There is no other way, Bethany.” Steven stood up and glanced around the kitchen. Julie, Jill, and Jim were standing in silence, staring at him. “I would leave, but I fear if I do, you might all die. It's not safe to stay here. Whoever left the body left a message for me. I'm certain of that now.”
“What do we do, Steven?” Jim asked, sniffling into a handkerchief. “Jill and I are sick. We're not able to travel. But we will if needed.”
“That's right.” Jill took her husband’s hand. “Jim and I spent many years of our life on the road telling lame duck jokes, Steven. We're now old and worn down and settled into a new life. Sure, we still have our sense of humor—”
Jill froze.
“What is it?” Jim asked in a concerned voice.
“Sense of humor…that's it, Jim!” Jill rushed over to Steven and grabbed his hands. “We're all present, all the players needed in the game: the sheriff, the guest, the killer...perfect! Oh, what a gag this is going to be! One last laugh on all the bad guys!”
Steven looked into Jill's eyes, his expression curious. “What's the plan, Mrs. Cunningham?”
“Call me, Jill, darling.” Jill let go of Steven's hands. “Listen, everyone, here's the plan.” She ran to Jim. “We're going to fake the biggest murder scene in the history of Hay Lake! Ben, you're going to make the scene look authentic...and you”—Jill pointed directly at Steven—“you're going to die!”
“Ah, the murder mystery scheme you and I were trying to bring to life.” Jim grinned. “Jill, you're brilliant.” Jim planted a warm kiss on his wife’s right cheek. “Alright, honey, what's the plan?”
“Steven kills us all and Ben plays the hero—he kills Steven.” Jill pointed at Ben. “Ben, you're going to have to make the murder scene look real. Can you do that?”
A wide grin touched Ben's sick eyes. “Jill, you can count on me!”
“After we fool the bad guys”—Jill focused her attention back on Steven—“get your backside to Snow Falls, Alaska and stay there.” She swung around to Bethany and Julie. “Call Sarah and tell her the plan. Sarah is going to make it look like you're dead.”
“Got it.” Bethany quickly nodded. “Julie and Steven, are you on board with this plan?”
“I'm on board, love,” Julie told Bethany.
Steven stood very silent as his mind contemplated every single possibility. Would Jill's plan deceive the snakes that wanted him dead? To Steven's astonishment, he realized that Jill's plan actually held a great volume of possibility. “Jill.” Steven walked over to the sick woman and took her hand. “If this plan of yours works, I will cook you a pot of my special chili.”
Bethany watched an excited grin appear on a face usually set in cold stone. Steven believes in Jill's plan...and so do I. My goodness, Hay Lake is full of twists and turns. What a vacation this has turned out to be. Instead of trying to find the killer who shot Richard Banks, we're trying to save the killer from other killers. Life is full of sharp pieces of glass. “Alright, Jill, let's get to work.”
Jill agreed. “Jim, take Julie and get all the fake blood we have in the basement. Ben, take Steven up to the attic. There's a box of bloody sheets and fake body parts. I need the bloody sheets. There's also a box of fake guns, knives, and so on. We'll need them. Bethany, go into the family room. You'll find some old filming equipment Jim and I were going to use to make a homemade commercial. Bring the equipment out to the barn.” She quickly blew a runny nose into a handkerchief. “We all might catch our deaths making this movie, but the barn is the final scene. Now, chop chop, everybody get to work!” She clapped her hands excitedly.
“Wait a minute,” Ben ordered. He carefully turned his attention to Steven. “Listen, I don't know you and you don't know me...so what I'm about to say, you can disregard.”
“Alright. Speak your piece.” Steven prepared to be kicked into the dirt.
Ben took a few seconds to clear his thoughts. “Mr. Frosellan, every man has a chance to redeem himself. What you did in your past—who you were—is dead. I can see a great deal of regret and pain in your eyes. It's clear to everyone standing in this living room that you're trying to redeem yourself. I'm going to do everything in my power to help you, and I want you to know...” he extended his right hand to the other man. “You have a friend in me. I'm not much—just a small-town sheriff—but I'm extending my hand.”
Steven lowered a pair of cautious eyes and studied Ben's hand. In his past, it would have taken a pair of hungry grizzly bears ripping him apart to even consider shaking a man's hand. Now, as Steven stared into Ben's eyes, he felt his right hand lift into the air. “And you have a friend in me, Ben,” he said candidly, shaking the sheriff’s hand.
Ben smiled. “Then let's get to the attic and find those bloody sheets.”
“Lead the way.”
Bethany watched Ben and Steven rush out of the kitchen. “Let's go.” Jim took Julie's hand and ran her to a closed door standing beside the refrigerator. “Basement, here we come!”
Jill waited until Jim dragged Julie down into a finished basement before turning to Bethany. “Call Sarah.”
“I'm on it.” Bethany quickly called Sarah on her cell phone. “Sarah, we have a plan.”
“Let's hear it.” Sarah grabbed Conrad's arm. “Bethany has a plan.”
“Well, Jill came up with the plan. Here's the plan.” Bethany drew in a deep breath and carefully confessed Jill's plan in precise detail. “My question is, can we kill a man like Steven Frosellan and bring him back to life in Snow Falls?”
Sarah paced around a brightly lit kitchen. “It's possible...if Ben does his job right, and if I do my job right.”
“What do you mean?” Bethany asked. Sarah's mind is bubbling. She's hatching a plan of her own. I should count my blessings I have such a friend. There is no way I could have ever figured out, much less survived, this case on my own.
“I'm going to come to Hay Lake and transport two dead bodies back to Snow Falls for burial,” Sarah explained. “Steven Frosellan will be a third body—a hidden body—and Peter will have to assist me.”
“Sarah, can this really work?” Bethany asked, feeling a tinge of hope—if not excitement—enter her fearful heart.
“Bethany, if there’s one thing I've learned during my life, every chance a person takes will either succeed or fail. But don't worry, we have Amanda on our side...and I think my crazy friend might come in handy.”
“Amanda? How?” Bethany asked.
“Wait and see.” Sarah smiled. It felt good to be back in the saddle again, even if the ride was short. “Sit tight, Bethany. I need to call Amanda and then have a meeting with my dear husband who is looking at me like I've gone insane.”
“You are insane.” Conrad sighed and rolled his eyes. “I better call Andrew. I have a feeling we're going to need his help on this.”
“We sure are.” Sarah nodded. “In order to save our friends, we're going to need a network of support. Bethany...handle matters on your end.”
“Do you really have confidence in me, Sarah?” Bethany asked, feeling a sudden surge of enthusiasm. “I think I dropped the ball on this case. As a matter of fact, every murder case I've become trapped in has been a miserable experience. I survived each case by the skin on my nose. I'm not as smart as you would like to believe.”
Sarah felt it was time to carry out some serious damage-control tactics. “Bethany, when I became a cop, I was green as grass. I can't count the times I nearly got myself killed or someone else killed. By the time Pete met me, I wasn't prepared to chase down killers. Pete taught me everything I know, even though Pete claims I learned a few things on my own. My point is that—” Before Sarah could finish, Amanda burst through the back door, soaked with snow.
“Okay, where's the fire? I'm ready for action! Conrad, go get me a grenade launcher! Sarah, get me a flame thrower! We're going to Hay Lake, Vermont to save our girls! I've already called the airport and reserved our plane tickets!”
Conrad rolled his eyes. “The abominable snowman covered in snow and wearing an oversized blue coat and hat that was fifty percent off at O'Mally's. I'm sure the enemy is terrified.”
“Watch it, you smart-mouth bloke!” Amanda marched over to Conrad and slugged his right arm. “Go make me a cup of coffee! Sarah and I have some planning to do! The girls are back in action!”
Sarah fought back a grin. Amanda was insane—but oh, how Sarah loved her Amanda. “Bethany?”
“I heard, I heard.” Bethany smiled. “Tell Amanda thanks, and that I love her.”
“I will. And listen, if I didn't believe in you, I wouldn't have suggested you fly to Vermont.” With those words, Sarah ended the call, leaving Bethany on her own again.
“Well?” Jill asked.
Bethany put down her cell phone. “I better go get the filming equipment. We have a lot of work to do. But…” She paused, her eyes locking on the back door. Suddenly out of nowhere—as if an icy hand punched her in the gut—a strange feeling washed over Bethany's heart. What if there is a second killer? a deep inner voice asked. What if the people who want Steven dead didn't kill Rhonda Banks? What if...
“What is it?” Jill asked.
Bethany walked over to the back door and ran a bare hand across a sea of rough wood. “Jill, a thought just occurred to me. If the body of Rhonda Banks was left at the back door, how can we be so sure the woman was actually killed by the people who want Steven dead?”
“Who else could have killed that awful spider?” Jill asked.
Bethany stopped rubbing the back door and slowly turned to face Jill. “It seems as if we have all of our pickles in a barrel, so to speak. But now I'm wondering if maybe we need to search for one last pickle?”
A heavy moan left Jill's mouth. “Bethany, I love you deeply, girl, but you're making my mind hurt. I can only deal with so much.” She walked over to Bethany and put a firm arm around the woman. “Like my daddy used to say, adventure down one path at a time and see where that path leads to. Okay?”
“I understand.” Bethany promised. “I'll get the filming equipment.”
Bethany left the kitchen carrying a heavy question mark over her head. When she reached the staircase, Steven was waiting for her. “Steven?”
“I sent Ben upstairs.” Steven nodded for Bethany to move closer. Bethany obeyed. “Have you figured it out?”
“A second killer?” Bethany asked.
Steven shrugged his shoulders. “I can't be certain. Rhonda Banks seemed to have been killed by a professional. However—”
“Your gut is nagging you?”
“Badly,” Steven confessed. “We may believe we're seeing what's behind the curtain...and maybe we are. But there could be a hidden trap door. The only question is, who is hiding under the trap door?”
“Maybe we will find out?”
Steven frowned. “For the first time in my life, Bethany, I don't know who is hiding in the shadows. But maybe you do?”
Outside in the rain, a hidden killer was waiting.
Chapter Thirteen
Blood. Terror. Horror. Murder. The scene was set.
Bethany stationed herself beside a damp bale of hay. “Alright, everyone, I think we're ready. Jill, what do we do?” She had to speak over a loud, pouring rain. She drew a deep breath of air that smelled of hay, dirt, rain, and fallen autumn leaves. Autumn is supposed to be a beautiful time of the year. So far, autumn hasn't exhausted its beauty in ways that soothe the heart. I'm preparing to allow myself to be killed, though I prefer yellow autumn leaves over the sight of blood.
“Steven, you're the expert. So here's the deal.” Jill hugged a heavy green coat as she spoke. “You're going to kill everyone and I'm going to film it. While you kill everyone, talk into the camera. Talk to some unseen enemy you're going to search down and kill. After you kill everyone, kill me...and when you do...” She turned to Ben. “Ben, you bust out of nowhere. Make sure you appear before the camera and shoot Steve dead, and then call for help as if the world is ending. Got it?”
“I understand.” Ben glanced around the dark barn lit only with a few dim flashlights placed on old hay bales. The space felt like an actual horror set. “Julie, how are you feeling?” he asked, worried.
Julie hugged a blue coat and let out a miserable sneeze. “Horrible, love,” she confessed.
“Me too,” Ben agreed. “Uh...maybe someday, if we ever go on a proper date, we can skip the horror movies?”
“Maybe...” Julie sneezed again. The air was damp and freezing. Not exactly the perfect atmosphere for a woman running a fever. “We need to hurry. Please. I'm sick...and I also have the creeps.”
“I agree with Julie.” Jim hurried to check a stack of blood-stained sheets lying over a stack of hay bales. “We're set, Jill. Let's get the movie rolling before we all catch our deaths out here.”
“Steven, got your gun?” Jill asked, speaking over the rain just loud enough to be heard.
Steven held up a realistic-looking fake gun loaded with blanks. “I'm impressed with you and Jim. You two were prepared to operate a murder mystery bed and breakfast with all the works.”
“Be impressed later. Julie, step in front of the camera. Jim, when I give you the signal, turn on the camera.”
Jim placed himself behind an old-fashioned movie camera covered in dust. He checked the camera with skilled hands and nodded. “The camera and filming equipment are ready...the flashlights are set about just right...we're ready for action.”
“Alright.” Jill hurried over to Julie. “When Steven shoots you, I'm going to press this button.” She held up a wire attached to what appeared to be a black box. “The special effects toys we have won't hurt you, but you will feel a small punch when I activate the blood pouch I attached to you, honey. There is going to be a small explosion, so you have to make it seem like you're being shot and hit the ground hard. Can you do that?”
“I can, love,” Julie promised, staring into a desperate face filled with shadows.
“Bethany.” Jill moved on to Bethany. “Steven is going to do a one-two punch. He's going to kill Julie and then plow into you. The scene will be quick. Can you handle it?”
“I can,” Bethany promised.
Jill spun around to Jim. “When Bethany gets shot, you run out in front of the camera screaming your head off. Steven will kill you...fall onto Bethany and Julie.”
“Got it.” Jim nodded. Oh, how he loved his wife—and how he loved it when his wife took control of an act. Jill was great on stage, demanding and appealing at the same time.
Jill turned to Steven. “When you kill Jim, I will freak out. Start ordering me to calm down and...so on and so on. Convince the audience that you're in control. Eventually, you kill me because I refuse to calm down, and that's when Ben shows up and kills you. Ben, Steven will kill me off-camera because I have to control the blood pouches attached to everyone and make sure they explode right on cue.”
“Remind me to never make you mad, Jill,” Ben tried to joke.
“There's nothing to this,” Jill insisted. “Me and Jim have been studying up on special effects and all that. It's all silly stuff...hopefully, the silly stuff we're about to play with will save our lives. Now, everyone get—”
Before Jill could finish her words, a shadow burst through a pair of open barn doors. “Hold it!” Phil Goshen hollered. “Don't anybody move!”
Bethany remained very calm, quickly grabbed Julie's hand, and glanced over at Steven, who nodded. So Bethany had been right about who the hidden killer was—a last-minute wild guess had turned out to be a stroke of genius.
“Phil Goshen...what on earth?” Jill exclaimed.
“Shut up!” Phil hollered.
Bethany watched a sixty-two-year-old man wearing a black coat use his right foot to kick one of the barn doors closed. “It ends, do you hear me!” Phil hollered, sounding more like a mad cow than a threatening killer. “The game ends!”
“What game?” Steven asked.
“You know what game, Mr. Frosellan...but if you play your cards right, I might tell you what I did to Tony Ricci.” Phil aimed a deadly gun directly at Jill. “I don't want to kill anyone, but I have to. Everything is in order.”
“Tony Ricci?” Steven narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Goshen, I'm afraid you've been played.”
“I know that,” Phil hissed. “At least, I've allowed Tony Ricci to think he played me. Tony believes he has been in control ever since you arrived in town, Mr. Frosellan. When Tony informed me you were in town to kill Richard Banks, I saw many doors open...even a door to kill Rhonda Banks.”
“You and Rhonda Banks were an item, right?” Bethany spoke up. “That's how you killed her. You were the person she was texting the night I visited her at the hospital, right?”
“You're a smart woman, Ms. Lights...too smart.” Phil moved his gun away from Jill and aimed it at Bethany. “Tony told me all about you. My job is to kill Jill and Jim Cunningham...Tony is going to blame your deaths on Mr. Frosellan...turn Mr. Frosellan into a media star, so to speak. Tony and I were preparing to strike tomorrow night after the heat about Rhonda's death died down. Our plan was to scare you and your friend off. Tony assumed Mr. Frosellan would remain behind. He didn't tell me why.”
