Лори Касс - Wrong Side Of The Paw

“I’m afraid,” Faber said, “that the party has to get started without Brad and little Mia. I have to get back to town to finish establishing my alibi. I’m sure you understand. Perhaps this is better in the long run. This way Brad and Mia have to live through the grief of losing their big sister.”

He chuckled as he took the cap off. “And I’ll get to watch. Did you know that I’m a brewing consultant? I must be, since I have a website and a business card that says I am. I’m also a nationally recognized IT expert.” He sighed. “People are so trusting. Tell them you’re up here on a long vacation and would like to see their operations and before you know it, you’re being given a personal tour.”

The smell of gas was wafting out of the can. My memory blinked in and out for a moment. Red plastic gas cans. Lawnmowers. Cut grass. Boats. The marina. Eddie. Rafe . . .

“Are we ready?” he asked. “Oh, dear. Neither one of you can talk, can you? Such a shame, but there’s nothing to be done about that.”

Of course there was. He could pull the tape off our mouths. He could also unwrap the tape from our wrists and ankles and go on his merry way. He could turn himself in to the police and get his lawyers to plead him as not guilty due to insanity. He could be committed to a psychiatric institution and get proper treatment.

Whistling again, Faber started sloshing gas around the room. Onto the area rug. Onto the hardwood floor. Across the wooden blinds. Across the papers on Leese’s desk. Across Leese herself. He splattered gas across the front of the bookshelves and into the wastebasket. Then he held the gas can upside down and walked backward to the front hallway, creating a long thin trail of flammable liquid.

As I watched, still doing my best to break free, it occurred to me that five gallons was a lot of gas. Two would probably have done the trick. Five was overkill.

The front door opened once again and I heard the hollow sound of the empty gas can being tossed out into the snow. “All set.” Faber limped into the room and wrinkled his nose at the smell. “Gas is malodorous stuff, isn’t it? Well, at least you won’t have to smell it for long.” He laughed. “Miss Librarian, I know I said you’d have a quick death, but guess what?” he asked. “I changed my mind.” Shrill laughter pealed out of him.

It sounded more like a ululation from a wild creature than anything created by a human being. One part of me was revolted by the sound; another part felt something almost like pity. That part, however, was quickly quashed by my primary emotion, that of white-hot anger.

“Now.” Faber dusted his hands. “I’d like to say a few last words to Miss Lacombe. You, your siblings, and most especially your father, ruined my life. To even things up, I killed your dear father and—oh, I didn’t tell you that story, did I?” He tsked at himself.

“As I said before, these things are so easy. I simply e-mailed him, asking him to meet me . . . well, not me as Simon Faber, of course, but me as Mike Davis, a prospective client, at one of his building sites. It was understandable that I would like to see his work, you see, but I was on a tight schedule and could only meet him at that particular moment, which happened to be a very unreasonable hour.”

Faber chortled. “I’d chosen the tallest building, arrived early, and made my way to the top floor. When he arrived, I called to him and he came up. From there it was a simple push.” He smiled at the memory. “The hardest part was moving him into my vehicle and then into yours, Ms. Lacombe. A dead weight, indeed.”

Laughing, he moved to the room’s corner and took hold of his walker. “Back to my earlier remarks. In order to even up a life turned to ashes, I killed your father and set out to ruin the reputations of his children. Putting his body in your truck, contaminating Brad’s precious beer, and destroying young Mia’s hard work. But killing Dale was so exquisitely satisfying that I’ve decided to continue in that vein. The best plan is one that can be adjusted on the fly, don’t you agree?”

I did, actually, but it pained me to agree with anything Faber said.

“Now.” He gave a perky grin. “Here’s how things are going to work. Gas burns quickly and I need time to get away, so I’m going to light a candle by the front door. I’ve put some tinder around its base, and when the candle burns down, it’ll light the tinder, which will light the gas, which will flame up nicely.”

A candle? He was going to light a candle! Hope flared inside me. A candle would take time to burn down. Leese would get herself loose and put out the flame before it—

Faber reached into his pocket, searched around, and held up a birthday candle. “Just right for a party, I’d say. And though, thanks to the Lacombe family, I can’t walk very fast, I’m sure I’ll have time to walk to where I’ve hidden my car before the fire grows large enough for the neighbors to see and call the fire department. Plenty of time for me to drive away and not be seen, especially if I don’t turn on the headlights.”

He shuffled toward the door, then paused. “Have a good night, Miss Lacombe, Miss Librarian. Hope things don’t get too hot for you.” Cackling, he made his way to the hallway.

I cocked my head, listening. Maybe he was too far gone to be thinking clearly, maybe he’d leave and forget to light the candle, maybe he’d—

Leese and I both flinched at the sound of a striking match. “Ahh,” Faber said. “Nicely done, if I say so myself. Toodle-oo!” The front door opened slowly and closed gently, so as not to let the cold air rush in and blow out the candle.

Silence settled over us, a silence so thick and deep I wondered if my ability to hear had been consumed by the sheer fright that was blooming inside me. Then I heard something.

On the other side of the room, Leese’s shoulders were jerking up and down and back and forth. She was trying to get her hands loose, and what was I doing? Nothing but wondering about hearing loss. Leese was a far better person than I was, and it was just too stupid if she had to die because I couldn’t be bothered to think of a way out of this mess.

“Mrr?”

I turned my head as far as I could, but didn’t see my cat. If I’d trained Eddie properly, I could have instructed him to knock the candle over onto the floor, away from the gas. Of course, since I couldn’t even figure out a way to keep Eddie off the kitchen counter, and since I was bound and gagged, that would have been difficult, but still.

“Mff.”

This time it was Leese making the noise. Her shoulders had a wider range of movement; she must be getting close. I was making a little bit of headway with my feet, but my wrists were stuck together tight.

“Mff!”

Straining with my legs, working hard with my arms, I looked up at Leese. Only she wasn’t looking at me; she was staring past me with eyes open so wide the whites were visible all the way around her irises.

There was only one thing that could make her look like that. I whipped my head around, turning far enough so I could see the door and saw . . . nothing. Then my brain jolted. A glow. There was a glow of light near the base of the door. A flaring glow that meant the birthday candle had reached the tinder and was burning it down.

With a horrified fascination, I watched as the glow grew and grew and then began to fade as tinder burned itself out. Then, just when I’d begun to hope that Faber’s plan had gone wrong, I heard a whoof!

“Mffff!”

I knew Leese was shouting, knew there was a ripping noise, knew her hands were coming free, but there was too much gas poured in the room, too much on her, too much everywhere, and she wouldn’t be able to get away in time, she would be burned, her clothes would burn, her hair would burn, she would . . .