Софи Келли - A Midwinter's Tail

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Nothing’s going on, Mags. But you’d better get going or you’ll be late for your meeting.” I tried to keep my voice even and calm.

“Not so fast,” Olivia said.

I put the strap of the cat carrier over my head so the bag was resting against my hip. “I don’t understand,” Maggie said, her forehead wrinkling into a frown. “Kathleen wasn’t spying on you.”

I stepped in front of her so I was between her and Olivia and the blowtorch.

“Edwin Jensen has some kind of software on his computer to monitor visitors,” I said.

Olivia nodded. “He has the coolest tracking widget. He could tell someone from Mayville Heights was looking at the pictures he took the night of the robbery, and”—there was a disconcerting cunningness to the smile she gave me—“he could also tell which Web site that person arrived at the blog from.” She arched an eyebrow at me. “When Edwin told me it was a news service for libraries, I knew it had to be you poking around.”

“That’s why you confessed to me that you knew Dayna. You knew I’d been checking you out.”

“You’re right,” she said. “Pretty smart of me, wasn’t it?”

I took a step backward. Maybe I could keep her talking and we could make it to the door. Even though I was in sock feet and Olivia was wearing boots, I felt pretty sure I could outrun her in those heels she had on, and I knew Maggie could.

“How did you get him to help you?” I asked.

“I played the helpless victim,” she said. “I told him an old boyfriend wouldn’t leave me alone.” She shrugged. “I had to do him a couple of times, but it was worth it.”

I swallowed down the sour taste at the back of my throat.

“I don’t understand,” Maggie said. “ You killed Dayna Chapman? But you ate one of those chocolates. You could have died.”

Olivia shook her head. “No. I had that all worked out.” She looked at me. “I did improvise the part where you got my autoinjector. That was pretty good.” She turned the blowtorch and studied the blue flame. “I really wish I didn’t have to kill you. You know, I came up with the whole plan in the library. I did all my research into that old book on your computers and I borrowed every single Edgar Allan Poe book you had. That’s how I got the idea that I was going to have to eat one of those chocolates, too.”

“‘The Purloined Letter,’” I said.

Maggie looked lost.

“It’s a Poe short story,” I explained. “About a hidden letter. Poe’s detective finds the letter when the police can’t because it’s been hidden in plain sight with some other mail.” I didn’t take my eyes off Olivia. “Who would look for a valuable, stolen letter in with the everyday correspondence? Just like who would think anyone would deliberately eat a chocolate that could kill them?”

Olivia turned the blowtorch back around so it was facing us again. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Since I almost died, too, why would anyone suspect me?”

She looked pleased with herself.

“You were the lookout the night of the robbery,” I said. I nudged Maggie backward another step, hoping I’d get an opportunity to shove her toward the front door.

“And no one was supposed to get hurt,” she said. “If that old man had just opened the safe when Jake told him to, everything would have stayed on track.”

“You knew the book was there.” I eased my right hand toward the pocket of my jacket. Could I get my phone and hand it back to Maggie?

Olivia suddenly leaned forward and flicked the torch at me. “Hands where I can see them,” she said. She straightened up. “Yes. We knew that old book was there. A friend of Jake’s saw it. Leo figured if the old man had some crappy old book in his safe, it had to be worth something. Turns out he was right.”

“How did Dayna find out?”

She shook her head in frustration. “The stupid-ass prosecutor let Dayna look at the pictures from the night it all happened. She noticed the parcel I’d had just disappeared.”

“She knew you had something valuable.”

Olivia was moving her fingers back and forth, just beyond the edge of the blowtorch flame. She didn’t even look at me. “I knew she’d be bleeding us dry for the rest of our lives. I didn’t really have a choice.” She glanced at me for a brief second. “I told Dayna she should come for the rare-book lecture so we could find out how much that Poe book was worth. Thank you for setting that up, by the way. It made it so easy to get her to come here.” She smiled at me. “Now that we’ve finished the recap for anyone who tuned in late, move away from the door.”

I stayed where I was and reached behind me to grip Maggie’s arm.

“There’s no point in trying to make a run for it,” Olivia said, gesturing at my hair with the flaming torch.

I could feel the heat as she flashed it by my face. Still I didn’t move. Our best chance to get away from Olivia was to get close enough to the door to bolt for the yard. Unfortunately, we were about halfway between the stairs and the door.

She made a sour face, took several steps to her left and with her gaze still locked on my face used the blowtorch to set the semi-sheer, floor-length curtains on the big window behind the stairs on fire. The flames shot up the thin fabric.

“Next time that’ll be your friend’s hair,” she said. “Move away from the door.”

I gave Maggie’s arm a reassuring squeeze and stepped away from her.

“No,” Olivia said, emphatically. “Her too.” She took a step toward Maggie.

I looked at Mags, hoping the fear that was squeezing all the air out of my chest wasn’t showing on my face.

“Up,” Olivia said, gesturing with her free hand. I knew going up those stairs was a bad idea, but I couldn’t chance her setting Maggie’s clothes on fire.

The elaborate staircase went up six steps to a small landing. Then it turned ninety degrees for another four steps before making one more ninety-degree curve up to the second floor.

I could feel the heat from the burning curtains. I looked around for any sign of a sprinkler system, but I didn’t see anything. Owen moved in the bag against my hip. Through the top mesh panel I could see him crouched down inside, ears flattened against his head. I needed to keep Olivia distracted long enough to open the top of the bag the rest of the way so hopefully Owen would do his disappearing act, jump out and somehow have a chance at getting away.

I slid my hand up the nylon fabric so it was resting on the top of the bag. “How are you going to explain the fire?” I asked.

Maggie started to cough. The foyer was filling with smoke. Whatever those filmy curtains were made of gave off a foul, chemical smell that mixed with the smoke.

Olivia brushed her hair back from her face and swiped at her eyes. She continued to move toward us. I had to start up the first turn of steps to stay ahead of her.

“I think I’ll blame it on Maggie,” she said. She looked at Mags and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I really only want to kill Kathleen, but you’re kind of a package deal.” She turned her attention to me. “You’ll tragically lose your life trying to save your friend. I’ll tell everyone how brave you were.”

We were about halfway up the stairs now, facing the wall of flame behind the stairs. The fire had made it up to the curtain rod and as I watched, it jumped to the huge oil painting on the wall above the windows. It crackled and snapped, fueled by the oil paint and dry canvas. The smoke was heavier and I pressed one hand to my mouth. Next to me Maggie had another coughing fit.

Olivia gestured at the cat carrier with the blowtorch. “Give me the cat,” she said.

I pressed the bag against my hip. Owen hadn’t yet realized the top was open and he could jump out. “No,” I said.