If she gets me outside, I'm dead, Jane thought. / have to stop her inside. But how? An idea skittered through her brain and she latched onto it. It wasn't a good idea, but it was the only one she had.
Hector, unaware of the danger, was stropping himself against Jane's legs.
"You could have," she stopped. Coughed. " — have paid her off, (cough, cough) you know. Even if you didn't, it would have ruined your career, but you (cough) wouldn't have gone to jail (cough, cough, cough) for forging the recommendation."
"Pay her off for the rest of my life? Let's go outside and discuss this in the carriage house. Now!" She pressed the knife through the sweater and into Jane's skin just beneath her breastbone.
Jane gritted her teeth. The carriage house!
It wasn't just forgery, she realized. It was more. Far more! Had Lila figured that out? Or had Beth only feared that she would eventually?
Faking the cough wasn't so hard now. She could hardly breathe for fear. "When you broke up (cough, cough, cough) with Ted, he was humiliated and threatened (cough) to tell his father, didn't he? (cough, cough) You couldn't afford (cough) to have that happen. You're the one who started the car (cough, cough) after he fell into bed (cough) dead drunk. You killed Ted."
"Why, you're smarter than you look. Now, move!"
"Wait! I'll (cough, cough) tell you where the notes are. Just let me (cough) get a (cough, cough, cough) drink of water. It's that cat (cough). I'm allergic. Please."
"Make it fast!"
Still hacking and coughing, Jane cracked the refrigerator door, shoving Hector out of the way with her foot at the same time. The door opened toward Beth. Jane glanced inside and gasped in horror.
Instinctively, Beth leaned forward to see what Jane was looking at, and as she did so, Jane jerked the door open with all her might. It swung around, hitting Beth squarely in the face.
The knife clattered to the floor as Beth fell backward, her hands to her face. Blood was pouring from her nose and she was making a gurgling, screaming sound as she hit the floor and started scrambling for the knife.
Jane dived for the floor, too, and got to the knife first. Beth swung at her, blood splattering everywhere.
Doors flew open and the room was suddenly full of horrified witnesses. Shelley did a running long jump over Beth to reach Jane.
"My God! Jane is this your blood?" she asked, squatting down on the floor next to her.
Jane took a deep, trembling breath and hung onto
Shelley. "I don't know. I don't think so." Mel had pushed through the crowd and was holding Beth's arm and mechanically advising her of her rights, but he was looking intently at Jane.
Jane looked at Beth, whose face was twisted with
fury and despair. "In a way, it's Ted's blood…."
25
"Not the cream puffs again," Jane groaned. "I've probably gained a ton this week. No, Edgar. Set them a little closer to me, would you?"
It was Sunday evening. The bed and breakfast was Ewe Lamb-less, except for Shelley. Edgar, who should have been taking a well-deserved rest, had insisted on serving a big dinner to Jane and her family, Shelley and her children, and Mel. The meal consisted almost entirely of leftovers from the night before, but Edgar's leftovers were better that Jane's first-timers, as she told him.
Dinner was over now and the children were in the living room with the Nintendo. Edgar was not only a superior cook, he also had a better selection of games than Jane did. There were several she intended to try before the day was over.
Mel had left the dining room between dinner and dessert and now came back. "Crispy's been taken off life-support," he said.
"No! Who gave that order?" Jane asked.
"Calm down. It doesn't mean what you think. She's off because she's breathing on her own. The doctor says she must either have enormous determination to live or a cast iron brain. They think she may even regain consciousness." He popped a mini-cream puff in his mouth and practically swallowed it whole. "I don't suppose there's any hope that you made this, Jane?"
"Afraid not."
"That's too bad. The odd thing is," he went on, "there are not one but two of Crispy's ex-husbands pacing the hall driving the nurses crazy. How did they find out? And why did they contact each other?"
"They probably have a support group," Shelley said. "With a 1-800 number."
"I don't suppose Beth's admitted anything?" Jane asked.
"She hasn't uttered a syllable except to remind us that it's our responsibility to build a case and she won't contribute to our efforts," Mel said. "But that's all right. We've identified fibers from the rags in the carriage house on the clothing Beth was wearing the night she killed Lila. That proves she was at the murder site and actually came in contact with the fabric Lila's body was covered up with. If Crispy does wake up, we'll have her testimony as well. I don't know that we'll ever prove Beth's role in Ted Francisco's death. It's too long ago and the physical evidence is ancient. But we'll certainly nail her on Lila's. She's also got splinters in her palm that will match with the branch she used as a club, but the legal eagles are having a row about the legality of removing them."
"Jane, remember when you were talking about us being wrong in our assessment of somebody?" Shelley asked. "Did you ever remember what it was?"
"Oh, yes. As Beth was ruining my sweater with that knife. It was her self-control. Legendary, almost. Everybody, including us, kept saying how she never lost her cool in her.life. But I saw her go entirely to pieces."
Z IU — … — -.
"The deodorant!" Edgar said, crinkling his nose in remembrance of the smell.
"Right. She was running around in the upstairs hall, practically naked, having hysterics. I'm not sure that even I would have gone that nuts. So there was a gaping hole in her legendary self-possession."
"You think she just went berserk when she killed Lila?" Shelley asked.
"Maybe. It was a very violent act, hitting her with the paint can. And hitting Crispy with that stick."
"What was Mrs. Morgan doing letting herself be caught alone with a killer?" Gordon asked. So far he'd been silent throughout dinner and their discussion.
"We don't know," Shelley said. "Maybe she just went there early to meet Jane and Beth caught up with her."
"But it still doesn't make sense. The place had two doors. Why didn't she just run like hell?" Shelley asked.
"Possibly because she'd made the same leap I did from the fake recommendation to Bern's killing Ted to keep it secret. Crispy loved Ted," Jane said. "Not just a crush like the rest of the Ewe Lambs, but real love, I think. In fact, I would guess that deep down inside, she still loves him and may have cast off all those husbands for the simple reason that none of them were Ted. Imagine, all these years she's probably beaten herself up over his 'suicide.' Thinking that if she'd been a better friend, she could have seen it coming, or talked him out of it, or something. People do that when somebody they love takes his own life."
Shelley nodded. "And if she figured out that Beth had killed him—"
"She'd have been so furious that she might have thrown caution to the winds. Maybe she forgot or ignored the threat to herself in her eagerness to tell Beth what a vile person she was."
"But keeping the notebook was so stupid," Edgar said. "Why didn't she just turn it over to the police?"
Shelley spoke up. "My guess would be because she wanted to have the leisure to ferret out what it all meant first. It probably didn't occur to her that there was a copier right in the house. She'd only been in the library for our meeting and she sat with her back to it."
"It still doesn't make sense," Gordon put in. "Why would she need to figure it out herself? The police were already working on the case."