Sunday Morning Going Up

"But why did you do it? You already had a fortune – how much is enough?"

Now it was his turn to display an angry scowl. "That's where you're wrong, Salazar. All the money was in Mia's name. She insisted on a pre-nup when we married, and she used it to keep me on a short leash. I wanted her dead almost as much as I wanted her money."

Then his smile was back and even bigger than before. "Of course, the money wasn't the only thing I wanted."

At that moment I felt the pressure of a gun barrel against my neck. "You'll live a lot longer if you put that gun down on the floor," a voice whispered behind me. With a feeling of despair I stooped and set my automatic on the floor. "Kick it away" came the command, and I used my foot to slide it away from Cavendish. At least he wouldn't have it at hand.

The gunman backed away from me and began to circle around the room, winding up beside Cavendish. When I saw the long blonde hair I swore at my own stupidity. "Mierda! I never thought that she might still be here."

Cavendish was grinning from ear to ear. "You still don't get the picture, do you Andy?"

He nudged the blonde, and she reached up to her scalp with her other hand and began fiddling with her hair. After a minute she grasped her golden curls and pulled them completely off her head, revealing short black hair in a pixie cut.

"Oh my God -- Felicia!" I gasped, almost staggering at the sight.

She grinned at Cavendish. "See, Don, I told you it was a good disguise."

I was in shock. "You were a part of this all along?" I asked in disbelief.

She gave me a triumphant look. "Who do you think put a double dose of Ambien in your breakfast on Sunday morning? Who do you think hiked up her life insurance to create a motive for you? Who do you think put more Ambien in the cocktail I mixed for that bitch Mia so she wouldn't give us any trouble when Don came out to the boat?"

Cavendish was boasting now. "It was so easy. By the time I got to the yacht, Mia was out cold, so it was no trouble to weigh her down and dump her over the side. Then I rigged the engine compartment and Felicia and I got the hell out of there. I dropped her off in a cove where we had a car waiting, then came back to Crystal River and slipped in the building with no one the wiser. The explosion explained the missing women, and the evidence against you kept suspicion off me."

Trying to get my head around what they were saying, I babbled, "But that means all this must have been going on . . ."

"Oh, yes, my dear husband," Felicia interrupted me. "We fell in love soon after I started handling PR for the Paradiso. When Don told me about his problem with Mia, we began looking for ways to deal with her. We figured an accident at sea was the perfect way to get rid of her and let me disappear at the same time," she said smugly. "Oh," she added, "and the sneak preview was my idea. It worked great to get you up to the resort where we could pull everything off."

I was stunned. "But why, Felicia, why would you do such a thing? I thought we were happy together. You were so loving to me at the resort. How could you do this?"

Her face flushed and her eyes took on a wild look. In an almost manic voice she screamed, "You know why. I told you before: I will NEVER be poor again!"

I staggered backwards at her vehemence. I had never realized just how deeply her childhood had warped her character.

Felicia seemed to regain her composure, and she slid over and put an arm around Cavendish. In a calmer voice she went on, "Now that Mia is out of the way and everyone thinks I'm dead, we'll never have to worry about money again. I love him, and we can be together forever."

"NO!" a voice screamed out from the hallway, and I looked around in astonishment to see Gina standing there. The pink snowsuit she was wearing made her look very young, but the pistol she was holding was the real thing.

Felicia's gun wavered back and forth between me and the girl, as though she couldn't decide who was the greater threat.

Tears were streaming down Gina's face. "It's not true," she yelled at Felicia. "Don loves ME. He promised me he was going to divorce Mia and we could be together."

I gaped at her. "Don was your boyfriend?"

But her attention was focused solely on Cavendish. "You told me you loved me -- you promised me."

Cavendish's sneer was back. "Did I say I loved you, Gina? I'm afraid I was using a little poetic license."

"But you came on to me, you made promises," Gina protested, sobbing now.

"Oh, my dear, you should know by now that men will say anything to seduce a nubile young woman. While I enjoyed our dalliance, what I really wanted was your skills – or lack thereof – as an attorney. I kept you in business with the legal work for the Paradiso so you'd be around to represent good old Andy after I made sure no other attorney would. I figured that after the way you botched the work for the Paradiso, you'd wind up getting our boy here convicted on circumstantial evidence. But you couldn't even do that right, could you? No, you're just a stupid, immature little girl."

At that Gina's anguish turned to rage and she screamed out, "Don't call me a little girl!" I guess she must have inadvertently squeezed the trigger, because there was a thunderous boom and a red blossom opened up in the center of Don Cavendish's chest. He touched the blood and looked at it with astonishment, then sank to his knees and pitched over onto his face.

Felicia screamed and fired off a shot that hit Gina in the shoulder, spinning her around. The second bullet buried itself in Gina's back and knocked her down. I didn't think she'd get up from that one.

Felicia turned and knelt beside Don, crying and shaking him. I figured this was my only chance and I began running towards her. Felicia must have heard my footsteps because she rose, whirled and snapped off a shot at me. But she was too late: I was already sliding across the floor in a fútbol tackle. As I slid into her, my heavy boots lashed out, striking the side of her knee. Her face took on a startled look as she flipped up into the air, coming down heavily on her shoulder, her head striking the floor hard enough to stun her.

I scrambled to my feet and kicked the pistol away from her. As she regained her senses, the pain from her ruined knee must have hit her because she howled in agony and clutched at her leg. I saw the awkward angle at which it was bent and I figured that the very best she could hope for was a torn ACL. I knew she wasn't going to be walking on it any time soon.

I rushed over to Gina to see if I could help, but there was no pulse at her neck or wrist, so I let her crumpled body slump back to the floor. "Poor little Gina, what a damned shame," I thought sadly.

I came back over to Felicia and stood looking down at her. Through her tears she reached up to clutch at my pants leg. "Help me, Andy," she begged. "Help me, corazón."

I yanked my pants from her grasp. "It's far too late for that, puta," I said with a sneer. Then I pulled out my cellphone and dialed 9-1-1. After I'd given the operator the address, I told her she'd better send the police as well as an ambulance. "There's been a double homicide," I said, and assured her that I'd be waiting to let them in the house.

Then I sat down in front of the window and looked out at the big flakes of wet snow falling gently over the lake. The scene was beautiful, but I preferred the sand and the ocean.

I reached into my other pocket and pulled out the miniature audio recording device I'd bought in Reno. It only took a few button clicks to reassure me that it had captured everything that had happened. I set it out on the table to give to the police.

Felicia's sobbing distracted me and I glanced over at her. If this had happened at one of our league games, we'd have wrapped her knee in ice to try to keep the swelling down. "Nah," I thought to myself, "leave it to the professionals."

Thinking about fútbol brought back a memory, and I almost laughed out loud. "Domingo," I thought, "you were wrong about me being a Boy Scout. That tackle would have earned me a straight red card for sure."