Chapter 17
I had devised a plan. But before I executed it, I needed to prepare.
I went up to the bedroom and pulled a box down from the corner of the closet shelf.
Opening it, I ran my fingers along the strands of the different colored wigs I’d bought over the years.
I rarely had to use them, but when I did, they came in handy.
I pulled the auburn-colored bob-style wig from the box and slipped it on my head. Walking into the bathroom, I applied more makeup, something with a little more flair, and then dressed in one of my finest tailored pant suits.
I reached Meadow Designs and stepped through the door.
“Can I help you?” A young woman behind the desk asked.
“Is Miss Meadows in?”
“May I tell her who’s asking?”
“Scarlett Tisdale.” I smiled.
“One moment. I’ll go see if she’s available.”
I stood in the elegantly decorated space and looked around.
“Ms. Tisdale, I’m Celia Meadows.” She smiled, walked over, and extended her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I returned the smile.
“How can I help you?”
“I need my entire house redone. And I’m hoping you can help me with that.”
“You need to make an appointment.” She politely smiled.
“Oh. Well, I was just down the street doing some shopping, and I thought I’d stop in.”
She glanced at her watch. “I do have some time before my next appointment. Follow me.”
I followed her to her office, and immediately, my eyes darted to her cellphone sitting on her desk.
“Have a seat.” She gestured. She reached behind her desk, grabbed a folder, and handed it to me. “These are the services we offer. I will admit that my prices aren’t cheap.”
“Money is not an issue for me.” I smiled. “I have plenty of it to spend.”
“Oh.” She grinned. “And how did you hear about us?”
“The internet. I just moved here to Key West, and your name kept popping up first in the search engine. I’ve read the reviews and seen the photos. Your work is impeccable. You are truly an artist.”
“Why, thank you. That is so kind of you to say. Then let’s schedule an appointment for me to come to your home and see what I’ll be working with.”
She picked up her cellphone from the desk while I pulled mine from my purse and opened the cloning app. I needed to get her to keep her phone unlocked until the cloning was complete.
“I can fit you in next Tuesday at three p.m.,” she said.
I pretended to look at my calendar. “Oh shoot. I’m booked next Tuesday. What else do you have?”
“That was the only day next week I had. Let’s look at the following week.”
Fifty percent done.
“How about the following Tuesday at one p.m.?”
Seventy-five percent done.
“I’m so sorry. I forgot to mention that my husband wants to be there. After all, he is the one paying for it.” I smiled. “Do you do evening appointments?”
Ninety-five percent done.
“I do. I have a six-thirty appointment available three weeks from today.”
Complete.
“Perfect.”
Her phone rang. “This is another client, and I must take the call. Hi, Maggie. Can you hold on a second? Thanks. Just leave your address with Randi, and I’ll see you in three weeks.”
“Will do.” I smiled.
I walked out of her office and kept walking.
“Have a good day.” I smiled at Randi.
“You too.”
The following morning, I stepped into the gallery to go on with my day as if Bart Rexley wasn’t going to die tonight.
“How are you feeling?” Tess asked.
“Much better.” I smiled. “I’m sure it was just a virus.”
“Or maybe something else.” A grin spread across her face.
“Something else?” My brows furrowed.
“Maybe you’re pregnant.”
I laughed. “I can guarantee you one hundred percent I’m not pregnant.”
“Oh. Then I guess it was a virus.”
While Tess was in the back, going over paperwork, I pulled out my phone and sent Bart a text message, making it look like it came from Celia.
“We need to talk, Bart.”
“Good morning to you too, babe. What about?”
“I’d rather not discuss it over text. Come over tonight.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I just need to talk to you about something. It’s important. I have an appointment with a client this evening, but I should be home around nine o’clock.”
“I’ll head over to you then from the office.”
After work, I went home and had some dinner. As I was gathering my tools, my phone rang. Alex was calling.
“Hello.”
“Hi, sweetheart. Miss me yet?”
“Of course, I do. How was the conference?”
“It was great. I’ll be driving back tomorrow morning. Don’t make any plans for tomorrow night. You’re all mine.”
“I don’t have any plans,” I said.
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow night. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I slipped my phone into my pocket, grabbed my bag, and pulled down the street, where there weren’t any cameras from Bart’s office building. I removed my license plate and put a fake one on just in case. Bart’s SUV was the only one in the parking lot. Everyone else had left for the night.
I broke into his car and crouched down in the back seat.
Glancing at my watch, he should be leaving any minute to make it to Celia’s house by nine o’clock.
I waited. Watched. He exited the building, locking the door behind him with his key.
He climbed into the car and tossed his briefcase on the seat next to him.
After he drove for a couple of miles, I revealed myself.
“Hello, Bart. I need you to pull over.” I held the large knife to his throat from behind.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked in a shaky voice.
“Just do as I say, and I won’t hurt you,” I lied.
“Who are you?”
“Pull over, Bart.”
He pulled the SUV over. “What is going on?”
I plunged the syringe into the side of his neck. “Sweet death, Bart,” I whispered.