Lorna Barrett - Murder Is Binding

The sisters stole a look at each other. Angelica barely nodded, but it was enough for Tricia to reach down to retrieve the tape from the video recorder. She handed it to Mike and backed up, hitting the wall, nearly cracking her head on the shelf that housed the useless video camera.

Mike dropped the tape to the carpeted floor, stomped on it with his booted right foot until the case cracked. Again and again his foot came down until the plastic gave way and he was left pummeling the ribbon of magnetic videotape.

Breathing hard, he looked up, his eyes wild. "Give me a bag."

Tricia blinked, unsure what he meant.

"I said give me a bag!"

Angelica pulled one of the green plastic Haven't Got a Clue shopping bags out from under the counter and threw it at him.

Mike picked up the largest pieces of tape, shoving them in the bag. "We're safe now, Doris."

"Shut up," Deirdre/Doris growled, moving closer, her expression menacing. "We're not safe. You and your stupid temper. Can't you see you've ruined it all?"

Mike's mouth twitched, but he didn't say anything, just kept picking up the plastic fragments.

Angelica stepped back, bumping into Tricia. "I told you she killed Deirdre," she hissed.

Tricia reached out, pinched Angelica to silence her.

"These two are now a liability. We'll have to get rid of them." Doris opened her purse and brought out a couple of the wickedly sharp kitchen knives that matched those from the Cookery's demonstration area. "Take this," she said, shoving the handle of a boning knife toward Mike. "Ladies, come out from behind the counter. Slowly. No funny business."

Funny business was the last thing on Tricia's mind. She gave Angelica a shove in the small of her back. Angelica stayed rooted.

"Look," Angelica said, her voice relatively level. "I've got a nice roast chicken in the oven. I'm making a wonderful appetizer, too. Can't we all have a glass of wine and talk this over?"

Doris's lips were a thin line. Her cheeks had gone pink, her grasp on the knife handle tightened.

Tricia gave her sister another slight shove. "Ange." Finally, Angelica took a step forward.

"What are we going to do?" Mike asked.

Doris ignored him. "Out in front, ladies, hands where I can see them."

Tricia and Angelica stepped around to the front of the cash desk, Tricia's shoes crunching on glass. Angelica yelped, stepping away from the sparkling shards, leaving a patch of blood on the carpet.

"You." Doris nodded toward Tricia. "Where's your car?"

"In the municipal lot."

She turned to Angelica. "You?"

"My car's there, too."

"So's mine," Mike groused. "Terrific, now how do we get out of here?"

"Deirdre's car is parked just outside." Doris fished inside her purse and came up with a set of keys. She tossed them at Tricia, who caught them. "You'll drive."

"Where?"

Doris nodded toward the street. "Just get in the car."

"Oooohh," Angelica crooned in anguish, and shifted from foot to foot, the patch of blood growing larger on the rug.

Mike grabbed Tricia's arm, pushed her ahead of him, pressing the knife against her hip. "If I'm not mistaken, the femoral artery is near the tip of this knife. You wouldn't want it severed and ruin your beautiful carpet, not to mention your day."

Doris stepped forward, brandishing her shorter vegetable knife. "Don't think I can't do a lot of damage with this," she told Angelica. "I can filet a five-pound salmon in under a minute. Just think what I could do to your internal organs in only seconds. Liver anyone?" she said and laughed.

No one else did.

She shoved Angelica forward, toward the door.

The wind had picked up and the rain came down like stinging pellets as Tricia led the way to the pavement outside her shop, with Mike practically attached to her. They paused and he looked up and down the dark, empty street. No one stood on the sidewalk. No hope of rescue.

Mike pushed Tricia toward the driver's door. "Get in. Don't try anything-unless you want Doris to slice your sister."

Tricia yanked the door handle. It was like a bad movie, including Doris's and Mike's corny dialogue. I'll wake up from this nightmare, I'll wake up soon . But it wasn't a dream.

Already soaked through, she got in, slammed the door, and on automatic pilot, buckled her seat belt. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Doris with one hand on Angelica's shoulder, the knife-wielding one hidden in shadow.

Mike got in the passenger side, brandishing the wicked knife clenched in his left hand at mid-chest-the perfect position for slashing. "You really blew it, Trish. We could've been great together."

"Is that what you told Wendy Adams?"

"We've talked," he admitted, his expression a leer. "And more."

The right rear passenger door opened. Angelica ducked her head, got in, scrambled across the seat with Doris crawling in after her. The door banged shut.

For a long moment no one said anything.

"Start the car," Doris ordered. "And don't try anything funny. You saw what happened to Deirdre. She thought I didn't have the guts to kill. They say it's easier the second time."

"What about Winnie?" Tricia asked.

"Not my handiwork," Doris said and glanced at Mike.

Tricia swallowed, her gaze focused on Doris's reflection in the rearview mirror. "Then it doesn't matter if you kill us here or someplace else."

"Think I'm joking?" Doris lunged to her left and Angelica cried out.

"She cut me, Trish! She cut me!"

Stomach churning, Tricia's neck cracked as she whirled to look, but the heel of Mike's hand caught her shoulder with a painful punch. "Ange?" Tricia shouted.

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" Angelica cried, but the fear in her voice said she was anything but.

Tricia's eyes darted to the rearview mirror. She could just make out Angelica's bloody left hand clutching the slash in her light-colored sweater.

"I'll cut her again, only with more precision, if you don't start the car. Do it now!"

Tricia tore her gaze from the mirror, fumbled to put the key into the ignition, turned it until the engine caught.

"If you don't want to see your sister's throat cut, I suggest you put the car in gear and head north to Route 101," Doris ordered.

Tricia glanced askance at Mike, hoping her pleading gaze would be met with some shred of compassion, but there was none. And why would he show that emotion for her when he'd shown Winnie no mercy and treated his own mother so callously?

Tricia turned her gaze back to the empty rain-soaked street. All the other shops had closed; the only beacon of light was the Bookshelf Diner. Even if she blasted the horn, no one was likely to hear or even pay attention to the car as it passed. Their one ace in the hole was Bob Kelly. Had Angelica reached him or his voice mail, or had she simply been bluffing?

Come on, Bob.

Then again, Mr. Everett knew of their suspicions. If they turned up missing, he could point the law in Mike's and Doris's direction. That is, if Sheriff Adams would even listen to him. And if he spoke, would he become the next murder victim?

Stalling, Tricia fumbled with the buttons and switches on the dash until she found and turned on the headlights. Next, she checked the mirrors before pulling out of the parking space and driving slowly down Main Street, heading out of the village. Within a minute the glow of friendly street lamps was behind them, the inky darkness broken only by the car's headlights.

"Turn here and go straight until you reach Route 101," Doris directed.

"Then where?"

"You'll head for Interstate 93."

"Where are we going?" Angelica asked, uncomprehending.

Tricia could guess. The interstate cut through the White Mountain National Forest, the perfect place to dump a couple of bodies where they wouldn't be found for months-if ever.