“It’s just like a wedding,” Death said from the other side of her. “Except instead of a bride you’re a beat-up Uma Thurman.” Death gasped. “Just like in the movie.”
“Will you stop?”
Wendell hesitated. “Stop what?”
Casey took a deep breath. “Nothing. It’s the…it’s my head.”
The sidewalk to the house was lined with some kind of sweet-smelling blooming bush, the flowers closed up for the night. The moon and the stars were out, and the air lay heavy and entirely still.
Yonkers’ doorbell was a simple ding-dong, and Casey wondered if it was loud enough to wake him, should he actually be sleeping. Yonkers didn’t respond, so Casey rang the doorbell again. When there were still no footsteps, Casey banged on the door.
The door cracked open and Yonkers stood there in a bathrobe, a gun held out in front of him, through the opening of the door. “Don’t try anything,” he said, his voice shaking. “The guys are right behind you.”
Right.
Casey shoved Wendell to the side and grabbed the doorknob, yanking it closed on Yonkers’ wrist. Yonkers screamed, and the gun dropped onto the front stoop. Casey pushed the door back open, hitting Yonkers’ toes, and he screamed again. Casey stepped into the house, grabbed Yonkers’ arm, and twisted it behind him.
Wendell picked up the gun and followed, closing the door.
“I want to see your office, Willie,” Casey said. “Which way do we go?”
He groaned, holding his wrist against his stomach.
“Wendell,” Casey said, holding out her bag. “Want to scout around?”
Wendell took the bag and jogged away, the gun still in his hand.
Death leaned over to look in Yonkers’ face. “Pathetic little worm.”
Casey agreed.
Wendell soon returned, the bag gone. “In the back on this floor. Door’s open.”
“Great. Nice of you to welcome us this way, Willie.” Casey steered him toward the back of the house and into his office. Tara, Yonkers’ daughter, had guessed popcorn and porn, but she was way off.
Yonkers’ walls were filled with maps, driving schedules, truck routes, and all kinds of things Casey didn’t understand. Evan had said Willie Yonkers sat behind his desk telling other people what to do. That could be the case, but it looked like deciding what to tell those people was a full-time job. Just not a lucrative enough one to accomplish what it was set up for.
“Exotic Blooms is dying,” she said.
Yonkers moaned, holding his toes, which were most likely broken from being slammed by the door.
Death took a look at the toes and made a face. “Nasty.”
Casey dropped Yonkers into a chair and spun around to the front of it. “Your real business is going bankrupt, isn’t it, Mr. Yonkers?”
He whimpered. “I don’t have to tell you—”
“I think you’d better tell me. And tell me fast.” She leaned over and whispered, “We don’t have a lot of time.”
He glared up at her. “I set off the alarm. And called my guys.”
“Did you?” Casey sat on the arm of a chair across from him. “I can believe you called the guys, but somehow I don’t think you want law enforcement coming across all this.” She gestured at the walls.
His mouth opened and closed several times, like an ugly fish in a bathrobe.
“So tell me,” Casey said. “How did you get the idea for the trucking scam? The trucks at your store going in and out?”
“I said I’m not telling—”
“Come on, Yonkers.” Wendell sidled up to the chair, the gun visible at his side. Casey hoped he knew what he was doing with it. “At least give us a hint.”
Yonkers saw the gun and licked his lips. “An order came in wrong one day. We got a whole load of crockpots and toasters instead of plants. We laughed it off, but it stayed with me. If that sort of thing could happen by accident, then—”
“—it certainly could happen by design,” Casey said. “Of course. And the drivers? How did you find this dismal crew?”
Yonkers snorted. “It wasn’t hard. Nance had dropped off lots of loads at Exotic Blooms before falling behind on child support. Once I got him on board, he knew a guy, who knew another guy… Pat was on our team and needed a job after—” He shuddered. “It’s like anything. One scumbag leads to another.”
“And you don’t count yourself among them?”
His face went red. “I am not…I am a businessman. I don’t do…those things.”
“Oh, I see. You leave the messy stuff for the others. That’s exactly what Evan told me. That you sit behind your desk and tell everyone else what to do. That you could make things happen.”
“He said that?” Yonkers blinked. “I thought he trusted me.”
“Oh, he did. Why else would he have told you about the theft and illegal driving ring he’d discovered?”
“He didn’t—” But Yonkers’ face gave him away.
“Evan was getting too close, wasn’t he? He’d found your guys, and Class A Trucking, and the thefts. It was only a matter of time until he realized you were behind it and you certainly couldn’t have that. It would make you look bad.”
“I didn’t…he didn’t…”
“So you killed him.”
“No. I didn’t.”
Casey grabbed Yonkers’ bathrobe and pulled him closer. “Evan’s daughters no longer have a father. That’s because he’s dead. Because you killed him.”
“But we…the guys didn’t mean to. They just wanted to stop him where he couldn’t get away. It was supposed to be an acci—”
“Yonk?” A voice called out from the hallway.
Casey tilted her head at Wendell and he drifted back, behind the open door.
Owen Dixon came in first, scowling when he saw Casey.
Westing was next. “Dixon, get her.”
“Nope.” Wendell stepped out from behind the door, gun out.
Dixon reached for his belt, turning toward Wendell, and Casey sprang off the chair, grabbing Dixon’s arm and pulling it straight out behind him, in an arm lock. “You should’ve learned the first time, at the accident site, Dix. Never turn your back on me.”
He growled and tried to grab her with his other hand, but it was fruitless.
“But you…” Westing faltered. “You were a mess. There’s no way you could have escaped.”
“She did.” Wendell grinned, but Casey could see his anxiety in the whiteness of his knuckles and the brightness of his eyes.
“What are you going to do?” Westing stood still, hands out as Wendell held the gun on him.
“I’m going to listen to the story,” Casey said. “While we wait for the others.”
“I love stories,” Death said, clapping.
“Others?” Yonkers sounded hopeful. “Are the rest of the guys coming?”
From the expression on Westing’s face, it didn’t look like it.
“You know,” Casey said. “Cops, ambulances. They tend to react when someone calls, saying a woman is being attacked.”
“Attacked?” Westing said. “You?”
Casey shrugged. “Delayed reaction. This face didn’t come from walking into a door. First, though, I think Mr. Yonkers has something he needs to tell you and Dixon.”
“I do?” Yonkers’ eyes widened.
Westing looked at Yonkers. “He does?”
“Sure. You know, Yonk, about how you created this trucking scheme to save your business. How it’s not making as much profit as you’d hoped. How you’re still going bankrupt, and you don’t have one penny to give your guys for their hard work and patience.”
“It’s not true,” Yonkers sputtered. “She’s just trying to pit us against each other.”
“I don’t have to. Randy, you have your phone?”
“Yeah.”
“The other guys still at the nursery?”
He nodded.
“Give them a call. Have them go into Yonkers’ office and check the numbers on the computer. The files are easy to find.”
Westing took out his phone, but hesitated.