Janet Evanovich - Full Tilt

Deedee and Beenie looked at one another as though unsure what to do. Finally, Deedee spotted Frankie. She hurried inside, with Beenie close behind. "Oh, my God!" She turned to Annabelle. "Why is my husband and that boy tied up?" she demanded. "And why are you holding that gun on Max?"

"You're in no position to question me, dear. Now, you and your servant boy behave yourselves and go stand next to Max."

Beenie bristled. "I am not a servant boy, thank you very much. I am Mrs. Fontana's personal assistant."

Deedee snapped her head in his direction. "You got your memory back?"

"Yes, and I'm totally disgusted with the whole thing. Why am I dressed like some man in a beer commercial? And would you look at your shoes. You've ruined a perfectly good pair of Manolo Blahnik heels."

"I stepped in mud," she said. "Look, you've got mud on your sneakers."

Beenie sighed. "Good thing I'm not wearing my Tod's. Who picked out this outfit anyway, Frankie's wrestling buddies? I'm surprised I'm not in a T-shirt brandishing a beer label."

"You forgot you were gay and started acting like a guy."

Beenie's hands fluttered to his throat. "Oh, Lord, say it ain't so. I didn't go hunting or anything like that, did I?"

Max and Annabelle watched the exchange in silence. "Okay, that's enough silliness," Annabelle said. "Perhaps you two don't realize the seriousness of the situation."

Beenie struck a pose and tapped his bottom lip with one finger. "I see a gun and a couple of hostages. Doesn't take a mobile home falling on me to understand what's going on. I'm not an imbecile."

"Phillip said you were foolish," Annabelle said.

Beenie shrugged. "Phillip has poor taste in ties so who's the bigger fool?"

"Would you shut up, you idiot?" Deedee cried. "Do you want to get us all killed?" She flashed a worried look toward Frankie. Her husband struggled with the ropes on his wrists.

"Both of you do as Mrs. Standish says," Max told them. He looked at Annabelle. "What's the plan here?" he asked. "Are you really going to kill all of us?"

"You've left me no choice, Mr. Holt. You know too much."

"And what are you going to do with the bodies?" he asked. "I can't imagine a woman like you digging graves. You'll get bloodstains on your nice dress. What will your dry cleaner think?"

"You underestimate me, Mr. Holt," she said calmly. "I would never have walked through that door without a plan." She nodded toward the gas tanks where Frankie and Danny were tied. "Swamp Dog made it easy for me by tying the hostages to those gas tanks. By the time the authorities find all of you, you'll be burned beyond recognition. And I'll be home sipping tea and planning my next social event."

"That's a pretty good cover for an embezzler and killer."

She shrugged. "People see what they want to see."

* * * * *

Jamie banged against the inside of the trunk. "Muffin, I swear to God, you are going to rue the day you locked me in this trunk."

"Be quiet," Muffin said. "I'm trying to hear what's going on inside, but it's almost impossible with all the noise you're making."

"You heard that shot," Jamie cried. "Max is probably dead." Hot tears filled her eyes. She had never been angrier in her life.

"I told you, Max isn't dead. He's moving around in there. I am still able to pick up his voice now and then, but I can't make out the words. I think he's talking to a woman."

"Do you hear Swamp Dog?"

"No. I think he may have been the one shot."

"What if—"

"Shut up, already," Muffin said. "I just dialed nine-one-one."

Jamie gave a snort of disgust. "Everybody will be dead by then."

* * * * *

"Let them go, Annabelle," Max said softly. "Deal with me."

"I'm in charge here, Max. Not you." She smiled. "I like power. I like knowing I hold everybody's lives in my hands."

"So you're into control. Tell me, do you try to control your son as well? Is that why he has kept quiet about this or is he a team player?" Max decided it was best to keep her talking. Until he could come up with a plan of his own.

"Phillip knows nothing," she snapped, "and if I were trying to control him he wouldn't be marrying Jamie Swift. He's much too good for her."

"The only reason you haven't tried to put a stop to it is because you know you'll alienate him," Max said. "Isn't that right?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"But guess what?" Max went on. "Once Phillip is happily married you won't take priority in his life anymore."

"My son is devoted to me."

Max laughed. "That's all going to change after the wedding. You know he and Jamie are looking for a home of their own. He's even thinking of moving his practice to another state. Neither of them want to live under the same roof with you." It was a lie, but Max knew it would get to her.

Annabelle looked aghast. "That's not true!"

"He's not going to be around to kowtow to your every whim. He'll start avoiding your calls. He'll see you as a burden." Max allowed a small smile. "That's not going to sit well with you, is it? You were counting on Phillip looking after you when you become old and feeble. He's not going to have time, what with his own family. You'll end up in a nursing home eating strained carrots and wondering why he doesn't visit."

"Shut up!" Without warning, Annabelle turned and fired a shot at the gas tank next to Frankie. The bullet missed its target and hit the man instead.

Deedee screamed as Frankie jerked back, then slumped against the gas tank. She started toward him, but Max grabbed her.

"Don't move," he muttered under his breath.

"That bitch shot my husband," Deedee cried. She looked at Annabelle. "Why don't you toss that gun aside and take me on, you big snob? I think a good catfight might teach you some manners."

"Didn't you used to jump out of cakes for a living, Mrs. Fontana? If it weren't for your boy you'd still be dressing like you belong in a bowling alley." She gave a menacing smile. "Speaking of your boy." She aimed the gun at Beenie.

"Hold it right there, lady," Beenie said. He looked at Deedee. "If she kills me would you please see that I'm not buried in this outfit? I want to be dressed in my white linen Armani suit."

* * * * *

Jamie cried out when she heard the second shot. "Do something, Muffin!"

"Get in the car," Muffin ordered. The lid to the trunk popped open. Jamie scrambled out and opened the door to the car, then jumped when Muffin hit a siren. She slid inside and started the engine.

"What are you doing?" Muffin demanded.

"I'm going in."

"Oh, no you're not." Muffin cut the engine.

"We have no choice."

"I'm not putting you in the line of danger," Muffin said.

"Frankenstein!" Jamie shouted.

"Shit," Muffin muttered.

"Disable AI."

Silence. Jamie restarted the engine, waited for the safety bar to close over her, and slammed into first gear. She closed her eyes and rammed the accelerator to the floor. The car leapt forward.

Deedee screamed as Max's car ripped through the wooden garage door. Annabelle, already shaken and distracted over the sound of the siren, accidentally dropped her gun. She reached for it. Max lunged for her. They struggled, and the gun went off.

Jamie climbed from the car and watched Annabelle go limp in Max's arms, the look in the woman's eyes dazed and surprised as she gazed down in disbelief at the red stain spreading across her abdomen. Max simply held her, his expression sad.

"Help is on the way," Jamie said.

Deedee raced toward Frankie and Danny. She ripped the tape off Frankie's mouth, and he raised his head and smiled.

Deedee cried out, so startled she almost fell over. "Oh, Jesus, oh, Jesus—" she whispered in a heartfelt prayer.

"I'm okay, Deedee," he said.

"You're bleeding!"