Epilogue
“It was Sal,” I said the next morning.
I was lying in a bed in a room at Centennial Hospital, where I had been taken by Lieutenant Copeland after all the hoopla of the previous night.
I was going over the events of the night with Zachary and Rachel, who had heard the news and had come to check up on me, or possibly to pick me up and take me home.
Rachel eyed me narrowly. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. I needed a few stitches. One of the dogs got its teeth through my jeans and into my calf.”
“That must have hurt,” Rachel said.
I nodded, because it had, once I’d noticed it. “It isn’t too bad. The jeans helped. And I didn’t really feel it until afterwards. Too busy trying to fend them off.”
“Adrenaline rush,” Zachary said knowledgably. He looked around. “Where’s Edwina?”
“Mendoza took her to the vet last night. They bit her, too.”
An expression of concern crossed Zachary’s freckled face. “How is she?”
“I haven’t heard from him yet this morning. But I’m sure she’s all right. He would have called otherwise.”
And she’d been mostly OK when I’d seen her.
Or as OK as could be expected after a run-in with two much larger, brutal animals.
She’d been bloody but unbowed. Delighted to see Mendoza, as always.
She’d been licking his hand between licking her own wounds, until he bundled her up in a towel and announced he was taking her to the emergency vet.
It was abundantly clear which one of us he was more concerned about.
He had left me to Lieutenant Copeland’s questioning without a backwards glance (although he had handed me a towel, as well.)
“So it was Sal,” Rachel said.
I nodded. “It was Sal. Last night was definitely Sal. And I imagine Nick’s murder must have been Sal, too, or he wouldn’t have attacked me.”
“He did catch you snooping at his place,” Zachary pointed out, and I nodded.
“But unless he had something to hide, surely that wouldn’t have been enough to try to silence me.”
“I should have stayed with you last night,” Rachel said regretfully, and I shook my head.
“I appreciate the thought, but it wouldn’t have made any difference.
Once the Shepherds attacked Edwina, I would have gone after her whether you were there or not.
And honestly, I don’t think it took very long before the police interfered.
It felt like a long time, but it probably wasn’t more than a minute, if that. ”
“Long enough for you to get hurt,” Zach said disapprovingly.
“We had to wait for Sal to show himself,” a voice added from the doorway.
We all turned as Mendoza stepped through, Edwina cradled in his arms. My beautiful, brave, slightly idiotic Boston Terrier had bandages wrapped around her back leg and her shoulder, and—the worst indignity of all—she was wearing a cone so she wouldn’t try to lick her wounds.
Zachary cooed, and Mendoza put the dog on the bed next to me before adding, “I wish we could have interfered before either of you got hurt, but we had to get him in our sights first.”
I waved it off. “I’m sure you did what you could, Detective. What’s happening now?”
“Sal Gomorra is under arrest for murder and assault,” Mendoza said, “and I’ve come to take you home.”
The assault would be last night, I assumed. The murder— “So he did kill Nick.”
Mendoza nodded. “He hasn’t admitted to it, but we’re pretty sure. That premium notice in his mailbox? Life insurance policy on Dominic Costanza. Two million dollars.”
“How recent?” Had he taken it out after Nick brought the mob to Sal’s door, or had he been planning this for a longer time?
“Not recent at all,” Mendoza said. “He’s had it almost a decade. I guess it finally came in handy.” His voice was cynical.
“What happened last night?” Rachel wanted to know.
Mendoza flicked a look at her. “Didn’t Gina tell you?”
“I’d like to hear it from you,” Rachel said, and Mendoza nodded.
“When he left the Body Shop in the middle of the day yesterday, he told Megan it was because someone had breached the security on his property. She knew we weren’t that stupid—”
This pronouncement was accompanied by a look at me; one I treated with the contempt it deserved. Mendoza grinned and continued, “—so she called me. I made it to Pegram in time to see the Lexus zoom past me on its way to the interstate. Two minutes later, Zach’s car did the same.”
He glanced at my associate, who was on his knees next to the hospital bed so he could talk to Edwina on her own level. His hand was exceedingly gentle as he stroked the small part of her back between her shoulders and her back leg that wasn’t covered with bandages.
“I didn’t see you,” I said, since Zach was otherwise occupied.
“I’m not surprised. You drove like a bat out of hell.” His brows pulled together. “I had half a mind to pull you over and give you a citation.”
I grimaced. “Sal almost caught me. I was trying to get away.”
Mendoza nodded. “Well, I kept an eye on him after that. Sambuca is closed on Monday nights, so I was able to be here, as well. When he loaded up the dogs, we followed him. There was plenty of time for us to get in position while he waited for Rachel to leave and for you to let Edwina out.”
There was a pause while we all—or at least while I—considered the ramifications.
“He was trying to kill Gina,” Rachel said, and her voice wasn’t entirely steady. “He was going to let those dogs maul both her and Edwina to death.”
“We wouldn’t have let that happen,” Mendoza said firmly. “There was half a dozen of us out there carrying guns. Besides, if she had only stayed in the kitchen instead of grabbing that broom and gone after them herself—”
His scowled, which seemed quite unfair, if you asked me.
“I was thinking they were attacking my dog,” I said. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch.”
“Well, I’m sorry you got hurt. But he’s sitting in a cell now, and there’s no way a judge is going to release him on bail. He’s clearly a threat to anyone who crosses his path. And if we can charge him with attempted murder instead of assault, we will.”
There was a beat of silence.
“So Jacquie is off the hook,” Rachel said. “Do I have your permission to tell our client that an arrest has been made? And that she’s no longer a suspect?”
“Not that you need my permission,” Mendoza told her, “but go ahead.”
He turned to me. “Are you ready to go?”
“Am I being discharged?”
“So it seems. Would you like a wheelchair?”
“I can walk.” I started to inch over to the edge of the bed.
Before I could move far at all, he had plucked me from on top of the covers and set me on my feet.
I tried to pretend—to myself, at least—that the weakness in my knees was from my injuries and not from the fact that he kept an arm around my waist to steady me.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just a little stiff.” And a little bit in pain, but that was to be expected. It could have been a whole lot worse. Just look at Edwina, who had to be carried out of the room in Zachary’s arms.
“Take your time.” Mendoza inched me forward toward the door, while Rachel hovered on my other side, hands out, ready to catch me if I fell.
“I’m fine! Just don’t drop the dog.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Zachary said over his shoulder as we walked out into the world, to live another day.