Part 26 (2/2)
The Brunelles' mounting debt provided Jake Brunelle with a strong motive for murdering Weston, but it still wasn't the concrete evidence they needed. With a deep breath, Nick returned the stack of papers to Betsy's desk and, reticent to step into the role of hacker, decided to search the office's single file cabinet before facing the challenge of navigating the company computer.
As the setting sun cast a purple hue on the unlit office, Nick moved toward the monolithic black cabinet at the back of the room. Picking his way through the gathering darkness of the old maintenance building, Nick failed to notice the thick extension cord that trailed across the office's dusty plywood floor. Within seconds, the toe of his sneaker was caught in the snakelike cable, sending him hurtling headlong toward the cabinet he had intended to quietly search.
Nick threw both arms outward, successfully catching himself by grabbing hold of a large cardboard box that rested against the adjacent wall. He immediately identified the mattress-sized parcel as the container for the Brunelle Construction sign.
He also recognized that, in his effort to brace his fall, he had mutilated an entire corner of the package, revealing, through the torn layers of corrugated paper, a faint glimmer of silver.
Stella followed the sound of country music to a darkly stained plywood door. Not wis.h.i.+ng to invade Betsy's privacy, she gave the door a quick rap. ”Betsy? h.e.l.lo?”
Despite the sounds of footsteps on the floor above, there was no reply.
Stella debated whether or not she should knock again. Determining that a double homicide was a suitable excuse for a breech in etiquette, and fearful of Jake's imminent return, she opened the door and climbed the narrow stairwell to the second floor.
At the top of the staircase, Stella was met with yet another door and, behind it, the smell of food emanating from a well-designed galley kitchen. Betsy, her back to the stairwell, was leaning over a small ceramic cooktop, singing along with the music of an unseen stereo. On the counter beside her rested a plate of flour riddled with meat drippings, a large butcher's knife, and a cutting board stacked with onion, celery, and carrots.
”Betsy,” Stella called as she watched the dark-haired woman sprinkle something over the Dutch oven of browning meat. ”Betsy?”
The woman whirled around in surprise, knocking the pan of meat off the burner and onto the linoleum-tiled floor.
”I'm sorry, Betsy. I didn't mean to-” Stella apologized until she noticed the yellow box of d-Con rodent poison in Betsy's right hand.
Before Stella could say another word, Betsy seized the butcher's knife from the cutting board and lunged forward.
”Nick!” Stella screamed as she stepped backward and held her arms up to defend herself. ”Nick!”
Betsy took a stab at her chest, but Stella, her back against the closed stairway door, managed to roll her shoulders and torso out of the way. Reaching up, she clasped Betsy's arm tightly and, with one foot flat against the door for added leverage, used all her strength to try and push the knife-wielding woman away.
Betsy, however, was tenacious, and the two women, each straining to gain the upper hand, remained deadlocked for what seemed like an eternity. Stella, red faced and perspiring, felt the strength in her arms slowly start to drain and her grip on Betsy's arm gradually loosen.
As she struggled to think of her next move, an incredible force sent her tumbling forward onto her a.s.sailant. Betsy, unable to retain her balance, fell backward onto the linoleum floor, the impact of the hard surface knocking the knife from her grasp.
Stella, having landed at Betsy's feet with a loud grunt, quickly rose from her p.r.o.ne position and scrambled on her hands and knees for the knife. Betsy, meanwhile, rolled onto her stomach and extended an arm toward the weapon, her fingertips landing upon the black forged handle before Stella could get close enough to reach for it.
Stella caught her breath and braced herself for another attack. But just as Betsy raised the knife, a sneaker-clad foot came down upon her back, pinning her to the floor.
Panting and sweating, Stella looked up to see Nick standing over them. ”Are you okay?”
She nodded and rose to her feet. ”I think so.”
Betsy, meanwhile, began to scream. ”Get off of me! Let me go!”
Retrieving the knife as he did so, Nick bent down and pulled Betsy off the linoleum floor by her arm. ”You try to kill my wife and you want me to let you go? I don't think so.”
”I won't try to hurt you again, I promise,” she sobbed. ”I just don't want to go to jail.”
”Maybe you should have thought of that before you tried to feed your husband rat poison,” Stella rebuked.
”You don't understand. You don't know what it's like. Jake was going to talk.”
”Talk about what?” Nick confronted her. ”How you killed Weston? Or how you worked together to steal the frame?”
”She stole the frame?” Stella said in disbelief.
”It's downstairs in that big box that supposedly held their new sign. But it wasn't a sign, was it, Betsy? It was the replacement frame for Weston's mirror.”
”You don't understand!”
”No? Why don't you explain it to us?” Stella offered.
”I loved Allen, I really did. He was better to me than any other man I'd ever known. He bought me presents and flowers and ... he appreciated me. We had planned to run away together and leave this place ... this h.e.l.lhole where all I do is slave. But then ... then I found out about her.”
”Who?”
”Who do you think? Alma Deville. I went there one night to surprise Allen-Jake was working late-and her car was in his driveway.”
”So you decided to take revenge.”
”I wanted him dead for the way he treated me. For leading me to think-to think my life could ever get any better. I thought about doing it a few times, but I always lost the nerve. When he suggested we meet at your house, I saw my chance. It was perfect: empty, isolated. I even asked him to act out a little fantasy of mine, just so he didn't suspect anything was wrong.”
Nick was incredulous. ”You slept with him that day just so you could kill him?”
”Oh no, I would have slept with him anyway. It's a shame I had to kill him; the s.e.x was incredible.”
”Yeah, we've heard.”
”And the frame? When did you come up with that idea?” Stella prompted.
”Around the same time. If I was going be stuck with my husband, I wasn't going to do it flat broke. Allen told me how much that thing was worth. Used to brag about how he stole it from right under Maggie Lawson's nose and how she'd never figure out it was the frame and not the painting that was valuable.”
”But you couldn't steal it on your own. It was too heavy and c.u.mbersome, so you recruited your husband to help. How'd you manage that?”
”I know Allen's housekeeper. I convinced Jake that she was the one who had told me about the frame. Jake hated Allen for taking away our business, so it wasn't hard to put him up to it.”
”How did he get in? Did you give him your key?”
”No. Weston didn't give out keys,” she replied matter-of-factly. ”I climbed in the bathroom window.”
Stella, crestfallen, looked at Nick.
”I'm still impressed, honey,” he a.s.sured her. ”Besides, you're cuter and, not to mention, saner.”
Betsy frowned at him before continuing. ”I unlocked the front door and left it open so that all he had to do was walk in, and then I rushed back here before anyone noticed I was gone. Jake could handle the frame, but I knew if I left the front-door thing to him, he'd goof it up.”
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