Part 34 (1/2)

”So all that blood and my being accused of killing you was to get even with her?” said Diane.

”No, that was to fake my death and poke you in the eye while doing it. I called Eric Tully on the phone pretending to be you and told him to send me fifteen thousand dollars or I would turn him in.”

Diane frowned. ”That explains a lot. He only sent four thousand and tried to kill me twice.”

”I suppose he was low on cash,” said Iris.

”What about Grace Noel and Tully's daughter? Were you just trying to con me?” said Diane.

”No. I figured that whether Tully killed you or not, he would get arrested and Grace would see him for what he was. The kid would go to her to raise-or to another relative if they could find one. Grace isn't the brightest, but she would be good to the little girl,” said Iris. ”Now, if I've told you everything you want to know. Get in the d.a.m.n room.”

Diane walked in and Iris started to close the door. She hesitated and turned back to Diane.

”Rich men are all the same. You may not believe that, but I know it. They are no different from my father. Power doesn't corrupt so much as money does. Vanessa thinks her friend Archer was so good. We were walking on the beach in Malibu when these young girls pa.s.sed by in their string bikinis. They weren't much more than fifteen or sixteen. He said, 'My, aren't those nubile young things?' That was my father's favorite word, nubile nubile. Men are all alike, and rich men are the worst because they can buy anything they want. You tell that to your friend Vanessa.”

She slammed the door. Diane heard the key turn in the lock. She stood a moment and listened to Iris' footfalls go down the hall. The first thing she did was start searching the room. The drawers were filled with linens, sheets, holiday tablecloths, and napkins- nothing hard that she could use as a weapon. Maybe she could tie the sheets together and climb down to the ground. She went to the window and threw open the curtain. The window was nailed shut and boarded up on the outside.

Diane looked at the curtain rod. Now, there was a possibility. She climbed up on top of the vanity and took the heavy metal rod off the brackets, slid the rod apart, and slid the curtains off. Now she had two weapons. It was sort of like a lance. The finials made fairly good points. Probably wouldn't puncture the skin, but she could certainly knock the wind out of someone with it-hit them right in the solar plexus and they wouldn't get up for a while.

She laid the rods on the bed, went to the closet, and threw the doors open. It was a large walk-in closet, large enough for a small bedroom or a large bathroom. She turned on the light at the switch just inside the doorway. Garment bags hung on the rods on both sides. More rods. She examined them, but they were permanently affixed to the walls.

Clear plastic boxes were stacked up under the clothes. Diane leaned down to see what was in the boxes. Guns and ammunition, she hoped. There wasn't quite enough light, so she grabbed one of the lids and started to open it when a hand shot out and grabbed her arm, digging deep into the skin through the fabric with its nails. Diane yelped and jumped back. The hand held on. It looked mummified, but it was alive and grasping. Diane grabbed the arm with her other hand and pried the grip loose just as a shriveled face appeared from between the bags.

”Help me.”

It was a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

”Please, help me.”

It was a very old man, his eyes were red rimmed, and he had a trickle of saliva running down his chin.

”Please...”

He was suddenly propelled backward and disappeared into the wall.

Chapter 52.

Diane stood dumbfounded, staring at the swinging garment bags. She gathered her wits about her and knelt down, pulled out the boxes, and pressed on the wall. There was a give in the bead board. She heard a loud, high-pitched, but m.u.f.fled voice behind the wall.

”Please, help me. Help me, please,” said a mocking voice. ”Do you think anyone came to help Iris when she called out for help, Alain, dear?”

Diane heard slapping sounds and more yelling.

”Mr. Delaflote... Mrs. Delaflote?” Diane called out. ”Is that you?”

”Who is that? Who knows our name? Get away from here. You'll make them mad. Don't make my flowers mad. Tell them I didn't let him get away.”

Diane heard a rattling coming from her bedroom door. She stepped out of the closet and grabbed one of the curtain rods. She slipped the other one under the bed. She turned out the lights in the room and stood off to the side, ready to strike.

The door opened an inch.

”Diane?”

”Kingsley?” she said.

Diane turned on the light. Kingsley slipped in and Diane closed the door behind him.

”How did you get in here? For that matter, how did you get out of your room?” she asked.

”I picked the lock. These old locks are easy for a clever fellow like me. Granted, it's not as clever as putting a cell phone under a dresser.” He grinned at her. He looked better than he had at dinner.

”How are you feeling?” she asked.

”I've had better days, but I'm all right,” he a.s.sured her.

”I think I've found Ma and Pa Delaflote,” she said.

”Really? Are they alive?” he said.

”Alive, but payback is definitely a b.i.t.c.h. He hasn't aged gracefully.” she said. Diane told him about the encounter. ”They are right behind that wall.” She pointed into the closet.

”d.a.m.n. Did the girls lock them both up, or . . . or what?” he said.

”I think so,” said Diane. ”I'm not really sure. It looked like only Mr. Delaflote wanted to escape.”

”I like your weapon, by the way,” he said.

Diane fished out the other side of the curtain rod and gave it to him.

”I had curtain rods. I should have thought of this,” he said.

”You picked the locks,” said Diane. ”We have weapons and I have a lot of false bravado. So now what's the plan?”

”See if we can find a way out. My windows are nailed shut, are yours?”

”Yes,” she told him.

”Let's see if we can find a back stairway,” he said.

They peeked into the hallway. Empty. They stepped into the corridor, closed the door behind them, and walked gently to a door across the hall and tried to open it. It was locked. They tried another one. Locked as well. They made their way to the stairway they had originally come up with Iris. The two of them stopped and listened. Diane wondered if they could hear her heart pounding. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

They heard voices, but none near. They were m.u.f.fled and sounded heated. The triplets were having an argument. Good Good, thought Diane.

”Should we try to get out the front door? Back door?” whispered Diane.

”Do you remember if the steps squeaked as we came up?” he asked softly.