Chapter 36
“Benny?” I squeak, peeking over the hole.
Nothing. Infinite darkness.
Finally, one sexy forearm emerges and grips the metal panel. A matching one follows. Down below, his feet are balanced precariously
on a slippery-looking pipe of some kind.
“Don’t panic, Benny!” I say, panicking. “Just hold on for a few minutes. You’re probably safer down there anyway.”
“What?” he groans.
I glance up and see a dazed Leslie trying to shake off the impact of hitting the car. “Just gotta take care of this murderer
thing real quick. brB.”
Right. The murderer thing. How to take care of it.
“Leslie,” I say evenly, forcing myself to be a confident grown-up. “It’s over. You can’t kill all five of us.”
She blinks at me, wiping a stray hair out of her face, but instead of politely agreeing and handing over the syringe, she
grabs Hannah.
In the blink of an eye, that old woman is holding the syringe to my best friend’s neck.
Hannah struggles to free herself, but Leslie is like a damn boa constrictor, and Hannah’s struggling just brings the syringe
closer to her jugular.
My whole body goes numb.
“Everybody throw your phones in the sinkhole,” Leslie says, sticking Hannah with the tip of the needle, just enough to make
a thin trail of blood run down her neck. “Now.”
Tond is first, and throws it quickly, almost eagerly, like he wants to be the best hostage. It hits Benny on the way in.
“Ouch,” Benny echoes from below.
“Oops,” Tond says, by way of apology.
I reluctantly take my phone out and drop it over the edge, while Hannah, bent awkwardly to accommodate Leslie, blindly reaches
for her phone and drops it in front of her, so that Leslie can kick it in.
Merle holds his out, like he’s about to follow suit, when his wife stops him. “Not yours. There’s some pictures of Charlie
I want.”
He dutifully slips it back into his pocket.
“Leslie, please don’t do this,” I say, hoping that the phone thing has appeased her enough. “Let’s quit while we’re ahead.”
“Upgraders never quit,” Leslie says. “Right, Hannah? I am Upgrading myself.”
“The acronym doesn’t really support that conjugation,” Hannah whispers and then cringes, clearly realizing you don’t correct
someone about your branding when they’re holding you hostage.
And sure enough, that just makes Leslie madder, and she actually shoves the needle into Hannah’s neck.
“Acronym this!” Leslie cackles.
“Mo!” Hannah screams.
“Hannah!” I cry.
“Boo-bear!” Merle pleads.
“Everybody shut up.” Leslie looks around frantically. “And . . . um . . . now you get in the sinkhole.”
“Not a lot of room down here,” Benny calls up.
“Shoes on or off?” Tond asks, confused. The man is such a total chaos hostage, I don’t know whether to thank him or kick him.
“On. No, off. Wait, give me a second,” Leslie mumbles, unsure and frustrated.
Tond nods, sympathetically. “First time?”
Meanwhile, I can’t stop looking at the syringe. She hasn’t pushed in the plunger yet, but that doesn’t mean she won’t.
Okay, stay calm. Leslie is desperate to feel competent and impressive. So that’s what I’ll help her do.
What I really want to do is blurt what I figured out about the case, but this isn’t about me and my ego. Not yet. Right now, it’s about
keeping Hannah safe. So I play dumb.
“I’m dying to know how you pulled all this off,” I say. “You couldn’t have—no, it’s too clever.”
Leslie narrows her eyes at me. “You don’t think I’m clever?”
Shit shit shit.
“No way, dude, I think you’re too clever!” I say, loudly. “This is how you killed Cran, right? The Botox for Charlie’s arthritis? I never could have come up with that.”
Leslie laughs. “No, you couldn’t have. But I figured it out right away. That idiot, always drinking out of that stupid water
backpack. He left it in the front of the office during a meeting with Merle and I just pumped it full of everything I had.”
Well, damn. Why didn’t I think of that? He was sucking on that thing on my corner the day before he died.
“That’s a super creative way to murder someone,” I say, warmly.
“Thank you,” she says, shooting Merle a hard look. “Nice of some people to notice.”
“Leslie, what do you say we take the syringe out and talk like adults, hmm?” I say gently. “This isn’t a Cran-style murder
situation is the thing. Bit less of a creative approach this time, unfortunately. Since we’re all watching you do this.”
Leslie grunts and twists the syringe.
“MO!” Hannah cries. “You think you’re helping, but you’re not helping.”
She’s right. I need to pivot, and fast.
But before I can, Tond has clearly decided this is his chance to escape. We all watch in disbelief as he sprints across the
street, clambers over the wrecked fence, leaps into the neon-yellow Ford Fiesta, and guns it, taking down the fence in the back of the parking lot site this time so the entire construction area is open and exposed with all its sharp and pointy dangers.
Tond disappears down the alley.
But most importantly, it distracts Leslie from pumping Hannah full of Botox and gives me an idea.
Merle still has his phone. Right now, he’s probably desperate to call 911. And he wouldn’t even need to pick up the phone and say anything because they’ll
have his location immediately.
So all I need to do is whip up another distraction, and he can make the call.
Whew, Hannah’s not going to like this, but it’s what we’ve got right now. I take a deep breath.
“You don’t have any more syringes or other weapons in that baby bag, do you, Leslie?” I say.
Leslie narrows her eyes. “Why?”
I shrug. “It’s just that, well, one syringe of Botox isn’t gonna take down all three of us. And once you push that plunger . . . it’s three against one.”
Hannah widens her eyes at me and mouths something sweary.
“Four,” calls Benny. “Just as soon as one of you can give me a hand.”
I can see Leslie realizing it’s true. She’s got the advantage right up until she empties that Botox into Hannah.
And then she’s got nothing.
“It’s too bad for you that this whole showdown didn’t happen over there.” I jerk a thumb toward the construction site. “You
know, where there’s drills and metal pipes and all kinds of stuff. Tools for the serious, self-actualized murderer.”
Leslie takes the bait.
“I am very self-actualized,” she says defiantly. “I am a powerhouse.”
“If you say so,” I say with a shrug.
“I do say so.” Leslie squints over at the site, presumably trying to spot the drills and metal pipes. While she does, I throw
a quick thumbs-up at Merle, and then cough and clear my throat, but of course he’s not looking at me. He’s still gaping at Leslie.
Come on, Merle.
Leslie gestures at me. “Go get me a self-actualized murderer tool,” she demands.
I point to myself and pretend to look surprised.
“You heard me,” she says.
“What’s going on up there, guys?” Benny calls from the sinkhole. “Sounds pretty bad, actually!”
“Shut up, I can’t think when you’re whining,” Leslie says, kicking a pebble into the sinkhole.
While she’s briefly distracted, I open my eyes real wide at Merle, who opens his eyes wide back at me. I mime dialing a phone, but he just looks confused. I mouth call 911, and he mouths back something that looks like I am a hamburger.
Am I crazy? How is call for help not his primary goal?
Who voted for this guy?
I carefully pick my way over to the fence Tond mowed down and give it a good once-over.
“Just a lot of cement so far!” I update Leslie, giving a thumbs-down.
“Keep looking,” she says.
I hold up a shovel. “How about this?”
“Nice try,” she says. “That’s an amateur murder tool.”
“How about you, Merle?” I ask. With me over here, Merle’s out of his wife’s line of sight. He could so dial 911 right now and be a national goddamn hero.
So I throw him a bone—“Merle, what’s your call? Nine pieces of cement or one . . . one shovel?”
He shrugs. “Whatever the two of you think is best.”
I scowl, mentally giving him the award for worst hostage, and I realize his reluctance to actually do anything reminds me
of Chris. Maybe I really am better off without him.
“Hurry up,” Leslie yells again.
Not that I’ll ever get to tell him that if I can’t stop this self-empowered murderer.
After poking around, I find a crowbar next, and in a sort of Hail Mary, I hoist it up to my ear as if it’s a phone.
“What is that?” Leslie asks.
“A . . . crowbar,” I say. “I was joking around, pretending it was a phone.”
Merle just blinks.
“That’ll do,” Leslie says and waves me back over.
And my dumb idea has officially backfired. Instead of providing a distraction while Merle called for help, now I’m just literally handing weapons to Leslie.
Unless I hit her with the crowbar first, I guess? But my aim isn’t great and I might hurt Hannah. If only Leslie would just get that needle
out of her neck.
Time for Plan B.
By which I mean, time to come up with Plan B.
I’m almost back to the sinkhole when the whole situation sinks to an even lower ring of hell. Across the street from us, the
school bell blares, announcing the end of the school day—and the imminent arrival of a whole bunch of innocent children I
have sworn to protect.
Shitballs.
Leslie spins around as kids start to trickle out of the building, and Hannah shrieks as the needle goes a bit deeper.
“Leslie,” I call, trying to sound stern. She’s too jittery now, too on edge, I need her to keep the syringe hand calm and balanced.
What calms her down, other than looking smart?
Charlie.
Who is currently sniffing some bushes where the poodles just peed.
Here we go. The moment has come. Here’s where we bring down the hammer of justice.
“Your Charlie really is such a spectacular specimen of dogdom,” I say, hoping dogdom is a word.
Leslie’s face softens, and she looks past me for a moment as the dogs frolic. Attagirl. “Those stupid poodles are such showboats,” she says, “but Charlie—he’s subtle, he’s understated. Deep down, he’s the one who really has the goods. He’s a champ. I’ve known it since he was a puppy.”
I shake my head. “You had me convinced that Cran’s murder was about the parking garage. But it wasn’t.”
“That eyesore?” Leslie scoffs. “Obviously not.”
“It was all about being Dog Mom Extraordinaire, wasn’t it?” I say, pausing for dramatic effect. “The Great American Dog Show
wouldn’t let Charlie compete because of his age and arthritis. They wouldn’t listen to reason. And you couldn’t stand the idea of those poodles winning again. So you had no choice. You had to get Cran out of the way to keep the poodles from competing.”
I look around to see if anyone is impressed at my sleuthing.
They are not.
They’re all watching Leslie’s syringe hand. No gasps or “wow”s or anything. I realize we’re in a tense moment, but come on.
“Hello!” I say. “I figured it out. Hannah, can you believe it? I’m good at this!”
Hannah gives a shaky thumbs-up.
Even Leslie isn’t impressed. “You make it sound so gauche. I tried the civilized way first. I used Hannah’s UPGRADE method. I did every one of those stupid letters. All the way from
U to E.”
“Oh god,” Hannah whispers. “I shouldn’t have said E was for ‘execute.’ ”
Leslie shoots her an irritated look. “No, you were right, Cran had to die. It was the only way to get the poodles off the
board. I tried to deal: I paid my cousin to make sure the construction site failed the gas inspection. Then I met with Cran
and told him if he fired Benny as the poodles’ handler, I’d clear things up with the gas company.”
“Should’ve gone with E for ‘enact,’ ” Hannah rasps. “Or ‘effectuate’?”
“You bribed the gas company?” Merle asks from his spot on the grass.
“You got me fired?” Benny asks from inside the hole.
“Would you all please stop interrupting!” Leslie is clearly on the verge of a tantrum. “I needed Benny. He’s practically a dog wizard.”
Dog wizard! That’s what I said!
“But that asshole refused to be Charlie’s handler for the dog show and only deigned to do some basic training. He said—” A cry escapes her throat. “He said—my wittew baby Charwie is too old. And then he cheated on me with those awful poodles.”
“Charlie’s a great dog, but his show days are over,” Benny calls up. “Also, Mo, I’m definitely slipping here.”
“Good!” Leslie snaps vindictively.
Meanwhile, a veritable tsunami of children has begun to flow out of the school across the street, and parents have started
to turn the corner, and everyone is drinking in the scene.
Cool.
Cool cool cool.