A little after seven thirty I let myself in through the front door of A Hill of Beads. I punched in the alarm code on the wall pad, reminding myself first not to use my own code, but Ariana’s, a numerology sequence pertaining to her birth date.
It was still light out, but thanks to the semi-transparent solar window shades Ariana had had installed, the interior of the shop was dark.
I was tired of wandering into unlit, spooky spaces and hoped this was the last of them. At least this one smelled nice. Sage, I thought. I was also tired of being frightened of every little creak, like the sound of the rotating rack of stickers when I bumped into it. I wasn’t used to the new layout with added crafts supplies.
It wasn’t only the new nooks and crannies that got to me, however. How many times had I seen the row of dressmakers’ forms above the counters? The velvety necks and chests sporting beaded necklaces had been there for as long as I could remember. This evening the sight of the headless, bejeweled women sent a ripple of fright through my body. Familiar baskets holding sale items made spindly shadows against the wall, which was crammed with beads, in plastic packages, on strings, and in small glass jars.
I’d decided against turning lights on so as not to attract attention or give would-be customers false hope. Now I questioned that decision, but I was more than halfway to my destination and I was determined not to give in further to irrational fear.
I dug my phone from my purse and hit “favorites” on the screen. I leaned on a counter and clicked on Bruce’s number, ostensibly to let him know what time I thought I’d be home, but mostly to have company in the store, if only in the form of a friendly voice.
I waited while the phone dialed. Or whatever these smartphones did.
Hal would know. Besides being a physicist, Hal was a techie and tutored everyone in Franklin on our latest i-purchases, doing a much better job than the manuals that accompanied them. I cheered myself with the fact that Hal’s ruse would soon be revealed and Timmy would have his father back, if not his mother.
I walked toward the new beaded curtain that led to the back room where I’d last seen Ariana’s binder.
I stepped over the threshold and into a loud noise.
Crash!
Gillian Bartholomew had smashed the window and entered the shop by the back window, the better to avoid being seen, I imagined. Even in my shock, I had to admire her agility as she climbed over the low sill.
My heart seemed to stop; my throat tightened to the maximum as I pretended not to scan her body for signs of a weapon. Both her hands were visible and empty, but she was wearing a khaki fisherman’s vest with many pockets. It couldn’t have been for warmth, so I imagined the worst. A knife in the top right pocket, a gun in the lower right, a venomous needle in the lower left, and a bomb strapped across her chest.
I hoped I was wrong and she was packing only lipstick and tissues, like a normal woman.
I slipped my phone into my own pocket, ruefully empty of weapons. I didn’t have “speaker” selected and couldn’t tell if Bruce had picked up or if it had gone to his voicemail.
“Gil,” I said, loudly, in case Bruce was listening. “What are you doing here?”
As if I didn’t know.
It didn’t surprise me that “breaking and entering gracefully” might be part of an army reserve soldier’s skill set.
“Why, Sophie, why?” Gil asked, a sad look on her face.
Wasn’t that a more appropriate question from me to her? Not the time for technicalities, however.
Gil had a good four inches on me, and more than a few pounds. Moreover, she’d spent her life building up strength in physically demanding jobs, whereas, except for the occasional bike ride and kicking the exercise ball out of my way in the garage, the most athletic thing I’d done this summer was sharpening my puzzle pencils.
It was lighter in this area since the back window had no shades, and now, no glass either. I thought of running to the window and waving and screaming madly for help, but Gil was between me and the window, and the alley seemed deserted anyway. I could turn and run out through the sales floor, but I had a feeling she was quicker than I was. Wrong or not, I envisioned emergency workers like Gil able to run at the speed of light.
I saw that Gil’s eyes were tear streaked, her face a map of despair. She inserted her hand into one of the vest pockets. I clutched at my shirt and swallowed audibly. She pulled out a tissue and wiped her eyes. I relaxed. Sort of.
“We should talk, Gil,” I said.
Good luck with that, I added to myself.
Gil shifted from one leg to the other, nearly hopping off the floor. “The funny thing is I knew I blew it, going back, moving the cake inside, adding those thesis pages. Overkill.” Poor word choice, I thought. “But when I saw that Rachel was going up to his office”-this came out as a hiss-“I couldn’t resist. I knew I should leave well enough alone but I wanted to be sure the little tart was suspect number one.”
“Tart? You think Rachel and Hal-”
Gil stopped hopping and began rocking on the heels of her heavy athletic shoes. She seemed to be warming up for… I didn’t want to think what.
“It doesn’t matter if they did or they didn’t. Rachel wanted it and Hal’s weak. God, is he weak. He took it on the chin for years from the great Dr. Appleton. The slights, the public insults, and then the letter, the final straw.”
Except for Gil’s deranged look and the smashed window, a passerby might have thought she was witnessing two girlfriends talking things over, albeit one more agitated than the other.
I began to relax. Maybe Gil actually had come to talk. She hadn’t threatened me physically. Yet. I checked the alley for a dark sedan, but the broken window was too narrow to provide much of a view from where I stood. Most likely she’d followed me here from campus, or she might have been on my tail all day for that matter.
Ergo, I reasoned, if she’d wanted to do me harm she’d have taken one of a wealth of other opportunities.
I was safe. Gil needed to talk; that was all.
Gil had mentioned a letter as the final straw. I went into the bluffing mode Ariana had taught me and that had served me well with the dean.
“You needed to remove that letter from the files in Keith’s office.”
Gil threw up her hands; her face took on an angry expression, directed at me.
Not safe anymore, if I ever was.
“See, you had to butt in and take those files away, Sophie. I was there, you know, parked right around the corner. I was on my way to go through his office but you got to it first. I knew immediately what you’d done. There just wasn’t time the day before to stand there and sift through all his poisonous correspondence.”
Another nice choice of words. I needed Virgil’s advice on how to deal with a crazy killer. Actually I needed Virgil’s gun. With neither at my disposal, I chose the sympathetic route, at the same time looking around for something I could use as a weapon if the need arose. I held on as long as possible to the delusion that the need hadn’t already arisen.
Ariana’s back room served as a storage area, among its many uses, with boxes and bits of inventory everywhere. The workshop table held unfinished projects and sharp tools-scissors, pliers, even a wrench-but none longer than a few inches. I’d have to close the gap between us to grab one, and even if I could bring myself to attack her at close range, it would be child’s play for her to take me down. I longed for a remotely operated weapon. The only one I had was my brain and it was currently on hold.
I woke it up and tried my skills at communication.
“I know you absolutely had to get that letter from Keith’s files,” I said, now a master of the big bluff.
Gil’s face sank into a deeper frown and she stood still for a moment. “The all-powerful, well connected Keith Appleton drafted a letter to the doctoral committee at Massachusetts University requesting a review of Hal’s thesis and asking them to his revoke his degree.”
I was genuinely shocked. “Why would he do that?”
She gave me a screwy look. “You know how much he wanted to discredit my husband. He had no respect for MU, for one thing. Thought Henley should have as few faculty as possible from a state college. Hal and I think he had a physicist friend from some stupid Ivy League school that he wanted Fran to hire in Hal’s place.”
“That sounds awful.” Agree with the captor, that was my plan.
“Keith researched some archaic standards about how many words you’re allowed to cite from another work and claimed that Hal had violated an old guideline. He showed Hal the letter, offering not to send it if Hal withdrew his name as a candidate for the degree.”
Gil bit her lip. Her eyes stared beyond me while her feet beat to an inaudible rhythm.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, wondering too late how smart it was to keep reminding her of my presence.
“We thought he’d changed his mind. We told him how much Hal needed this job, with Timmy headed for private school. Without the degree, he’d be so limited…” Gil threw her hands up. She’d made the best case she could. “But once Hal graduated, Keith brought the letter out again. I knew the police wouldn’t find it because he stuck it in a file labeled ‘Graduation Speeches.’ He had the nerve to show us where he was burying it.”
Keith’s office was a veritable hot bed of material for a tabloid, all in plain sight under innocuous labels. I was more certain than ever that somewhere in those boxes I’d ferried out of Franklin Hall was a piece of paper with research on me that he’d been keeping for leverage, should he ever have needed it.
Hal wasn’t in Keith’s department. Why would he bother vetting Hal’s thesis unless Gil was right and he simply wanted to hire his friend? Lucy’s defense of her boyfriend, that Keith wanted all medical workers to be from the top of their class, didn’t work here. Physicists didn’t do open heart surgery. But then, what did giving a baby up for adoption have to do with Dean Underwood’s academic credentials?
I was back to labeling my deceased former colleague “ruthless.”
“That was a terrible thing for Keith to do,” I told Gil.
“See, I knew you’d understand all this, Sophie, and I wish there had been a way to get your support before all this happened.”
Nothing had “happened.” Gil had killed Keith by her own hand. But once again I felt guilty-not only had I not befriended Lucy-the-new-girl, but I’d missed a chance to be pals with Gil and therefore have a chance to prevent Keith’s murder.
It was a lot to bear for a simple math teacher.
While keeping up my end of this life-and-death conversation, I’d been keeping up my search for a potential weapon. I knew there were knives in the drawer under the microwave oven. And there was always the flame from the small gas stove. And spray paint on a shelf in the sales area. Nothing I could reasonably reach or use. I’d already stopped fiddling with the phone in my pocket afraid that, instead of contacting help, I’d set off a ringtone and anger Gil beyond her current red-faced state.
My best chance was if my call had gotten through to Bruce and he’d heard what was happening. Unfortunately no police sirens accosted my ear.
I tried another bluff: Assume Gil was through with me. She could go back out the window and I could be on my way. I took a breath and started toward the table with the binder and handwriting material.
“Well, I need to pick up something-” I said.
Gil grabbed me by the arm.
It was worth a try.
She put her other hand in her pocket. This time she came out with a needle.
“If only you’d minded your own business, Sophie,” Gil said, seeming honestly broken up about the fact that she had to kill me.
With great effort, my adrenaline winning temporarily over Gil’s muscle and skill, I twisted my arm and pulled away. The unnatural movement sent my shoulder into a spasm. Small price to pay for freedom.
I backed up as far as I could in the crowded space, aiming for the beaded curtain. In the brief tussle, Gil had moved between me and the curtain and I found myself practically sitting on the worktable I’d sat at such a short time ago, blithely stringing beads into a little key chain.
Gil held the needle as if it were a dagger, waving her arm, ready to thrust.
“What would killing me accomplish?” I asked, holding my arms tight across my chest. “Bruce knows all about the handwriting and Hal’s false confession. And it’s going to be so obvious if you use that needle.”
What was I saying? Was I asking Gil to shoot me or stab me instead?
Gil didn’t bother to answer my question. It was clear that she’d lost it and wasn’t thinking past the moment. She lunged at me. I swung away and the needle ended up stabbing a large bag of cotton balls meant for the crafts section. I hoped it could be that easy; that the poison threat was over. There were still two pockets in her vest with unknown weapons, however, and even a weaponless Gil could knock me out in a heartbeat.
She lowered her arm. Had I managed to talk a killer out of a second murder? I didn’t trust her.
I revisited the idea of making a run for it, through the curtain, through the shop, and out the front door.
The curtain.
At last, I had a way to slow Gil down.
I knew I’d suffer Ariana’s wrath if my plan worked, but it was my only chance of survival.
I took a breath and made a sudden dash for the beaded curtain. I arrived there with my arms up. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I crossed the threshold into the sales area. I turned quickly to face the curtain and pulled down with all my might, grabbing the strings of beads and wrenching the heavy curtain from its mooring at the top of the doorframe.
As I hoped, the curtain came crashing down, the strings broke, and thousands-a million?-of tiny purple and green beads rained behind me.
By the time Gil could react to my flight, she was fighting off an avalanche of beads. I heard her slip and fall and crash into a counter, knocking more beads to the floor. The sound as the beads splattered behind me was sweeter than that of a cool summer rain.
I was almost at the front door. I heard Gil scramble behind me to regain her footing. I opened the door to the sounds of police sirens and the screeching brakes of two Henley PD squad cars outside.
Bruce had figured it out. Who said cell phones were an unnecessary luxury?
A moment later a female officer caught me as I fell into her arms and the other three ran into the store.
When the officer patted my back to assure me I was safe, tiny purple and green beads fell out of my shirt, onto the ground.