Until death, p.35
Until Death, page 35
“Give me the bottle,” he instructed.
She made sure no one was watching them then removed the bottle of pills from her purse and slipped them to him.
“I’ll crush them up and return the bottle to you,” he instructed. “I need you to spike the pitcher of martini.”
“That’s going to take an hour or longer to work,” she reminded him. “It’s going to depend on how much they drink.”
“That’s good enough,” he replied. “That’ll give both of us enough time to establish alibis with our partners. Once Farley finishes his drugged drink, lure him up to the bedroom. Stay there with him and don’t come back down. I’ll handle the rest.”
§
Half an hour later, Keefe and Elana were in the sunroom aggressively kissing and groping each other. The excessively drunken Elana suddenly pulled away from him and grinned with enthusiasm.
“Let’s do it in the gazebo,” she announced.
Keefe was less enthusiastic and was about to protest when Elana giggled and stumbled out the French doors onto the terrace. Keefe groaned his reluctance and hurried after her. For someone who was stumbling down drunk, she made it to the gazebo in record time, keeping two steps ahead of the reluctant Keefe. They reached the gazebo when she turned to face him. She threw her arms around his neck while grinning and suddenly sank against him out cold. Keefe caught her, stared a moment with surprise, and then sighed with relief. He lowered her to the gazebo floor and hurried back for the house. On his way back to the house, he saw the garage lights were on. He could make out people within one of the garage bays. Keefe groaned with annoyance.
He hurried into the kitchen and found it abandoned. He entered the grand hallway and ran for the basement steps. Keefe hurried into the basement and switched off the backup generator. He then approached the fuse box and shut off the power. Anyone left who was still conscious would be fumbling around in the dark. He returned upstairs. As he approached the study, he saw Otto passed out just inside the study doorway. Keefe groaned with disgust then came up with another idea. He grabbed Otto and pulled him toward the kitchen. He heard voices in the kitchen and approaching fast. Keefe panicked and deposited Otto in the hall closet, where no one would look with the lights out. He darted back into the study as Dane and Raina appeared from the kitchen and headed for the basement.
Once they had headed down the basement steps, Keefe grabbed Nole, placed him in a fireman’s carry, and hurried along the hallway. He carried the unconscious man into the sunroom, out the French doors, and into the dark garden. By the time Keefe reached the crypt, he was nearly out of breath. He dropped Nole just behind the crypt, hurried for the gardener’s workshop where he found a pair of gardening gloves, and slipped into them. He then fumbled around in the darkness until he found some more rope and an old hunting knife belonging to the gardener. Keefe hurried back to the woods, threw the rope over the same branch Callie had been hanged, and tied the excess around the trunk. He then made a noose and placed it around Nole’s neck. He untied the rope from around the tree and hoisted Nole from the ground by the rope until his feet were a foot above the ground.
Nole came to and struggled while gasping against the rope tight around his neck. Since his neck wouldn’t break, he was slowly suffocating to death. Keefe stood before Nole and looked into his eyes. Nole attempted to muffle a gasp. Keefe raised an arrogant brow.
“Feeling pretty foolish right about now, huh?” he announced.
Keefe gritted his teeth and plunged the knife into Nole’s abdomen just beneath his ribs. Nole managed a slight, breathless gasp. Keefe put all his weight against the knife and allowed his body and gravity to pull it down, deeply slicing Nole down to his groin. He pulled the knife free and let it drop to the ground. As Keefe stepped back while grinning, Nole’s midsection opened up, and his insides plopped down to the ground beneath his feet. Keefe held back his startled gasp and placed his hand to his mouth while dry heaving. He had to turn away to keep from throwing up. Keefe returned to the gardener’s workshop and hid the gloves, which surprisingly didn’t have much blood on them, and then headed back for the house.
§
As Keefe slipped into the kitchen from the back door, he could hear several creaks from the second floor, indicating someone was moving around upstairs. He considered his options then hurried into the staff wing and darted down the corridor. He paused outside of Dane’s bedroom door, grimaced, and then tapped lightly on the door. When there was no response, he opened the door and slipped into the nearly dark room. He turned on a small pen light and approached the closet. The locked box was exactly where Callie had mentioned. He grabbed the locked box, set it on the bed, and removed the key from the small, wooden jewelry box on the dresser. Keefe unlocked the box and opened it. To his surprise, the box was filled with old girly magazines. He cursed under his breath.
Keefe returned the locked box to the closet then placed the key in the wooden box on the dresser. He heard Sloan in the corridor. He grabbed the jewelry box, darted behind the open door, and waited. Sloan shined her flashlight into the room and hesitantly entered. Keefe crept up behind her and struck her on the head with the wooden jewelry box. He stood over Sloan a moment and contemplated his next move when he heard voices from the kitchen. The staff wing door opened. Keefe again cursed and hid behind the door.
“Sloan,” Titus called out. “Sloan, where are you?”
Titus could be heard in the corridor. He peered into Dane’s dark room and saw Sloan lying face down on the floor with the lit flashlight not far from her outstretched hand.
“Sloan,” Titus gasped and ran into the room.
As he fell to his knees alongside her, the bedroom door shut behind him. Titus spun on his knee toward the closed door in the nearly dark room and reached for the flashlight. Keefe struck him on the head and watched him fall alongside Sloan. Keefe replaced the jewelry box, opened the bedroom door, and peered into the dimly lit hallway before slipping out of the room.
§
Keefe entered the gazebo where he hastily removed Elana’s clothes and discarded them along the lawn leading from the sunroom. As he approached the gazebo, he removed his own clothes, tossing them haphazardly around the lawn, and then ran up the steps to join his naked girlfriend. He made himself comfortable alongside Elana while breathing heavily for several minutes. His body finally relaxed.
Chapter 67
Don’t Get Jimmy Love’s Boxers in a Bunch Part 2: The Night Elana Died
The night Elana died. Just before dinner, Keefe slipped inside the empty, dimly lit library and shut the door behind him. Gilda threw her arms around his neck, momentarily startling him, and then kissed him quickly but passionately. Keefe returned the brief kiss with less enthusiasm and pulled away. His look was serious.
“You know what you need to do?” he asked while staring into her eyes.
She grinned and nodded. “Is everything ready?”
“You’ll find everything you need hidden under the bed in your room,” he informed her. “Remember, it’s important that you don’t put the sedatives into Farley’s drink until right before you head upstairs. We can’t have him passing out in front of everyone.”
“Are you sure you can encourage Elana to drink enough?” Gilda asked then appeared giddy. “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this.”
“I have Elana, don’t worry,” he replied. “The chauffeur had energy boost in the limousine glove box. One of those in her drink, and she’ll be guzzling the hard stuff.” He eyed her and smiled. “Are you ready?”
She eagerly nodded. “I’ve been ready to be a widow for years.”
“Good luck,” he announced then kissed her quickly. “See you tonight.”
§
“You bitch!” Elana screamed alerting the entire game room to her fight with Gilda.
Dane attempted to hold Elana back as she clawed at Farley to reach the woman behind him.
“Everyone settle down,” Dane announced without releasing Elana then eyed both women. “The bar is officially closed to the two of you.”
“Fine,” Gilda scoffed in a drunken tone. She snatched her drink and glared at her husband. “Finish your drink. We’re going to our room.”
Farley frowned but obediently did as he was told. Both finished their drinks in a few swallows. As Gilda stumbled toward the game room door, Farley followed with less enthusiasm. The Nixon’s left the game room and headed up the grand stairs in silence. They continued along the second floor hallway and approached their bedroom midway down the corridor. Gilda entered the bedroom as Farley lagged behind with less enthusiasm. She glared at her husband, who didn’t bother looking at her. He removed his shoes and shirt in silence.
“You never side with me,” she announced in an angry tone. “That little twit says and does whatever she wants, and you just let her.”
“What was I supposed to do, Gilda?” Farley asked with a defeated sigh. “Create a scene. We fired her. She’s not your problem anymore. You’ll never have to see her again after we leave here tomorrow.”
Farley tossed his shirt onto the nearby chair and stood to open his belt. He suddenly clutched his head, attempting to remain steady on his feet, and fell backward onto the bed.
“I don’t feel right,” he announced and attempted to sit up. He again fell back down, and his hand fell to the bed.
Gilda stared at him a moment then approached and nudged his arm. He didn’t move and appeared to be unconscious. Gilda grinned then kneeled alongside the bed and removed a kitchen butcher knife and a plastic bag containing a pair of gardening gloves from Hanson’s workshop. She set them on the bed then collected her husband’s shirt and shoes. A few minutes passed before she heard the bedroom door next to her’s close. Gilda hurried to the closed connecting bathroom door and listened. She could hear Elana fumbling around within the bathroom. She listened for the connecting door on the other end to close then entered the bathroom and listened at the connecting door to Elana’s room.
The emergency light went out in Elana’s bedroom, indicating she had gone to bed. She was so intoxicated; she’d undoubtedly passed out the moment she hit the bed. Gilda hurried back into her room, slipped into the gardening gloves, and grabbed the butcher knife. She returned to the bathroom and opened the connecting door that wasn’t locked. Gilda slipped into Elana’s bedroom and saw the young woman lying naked beneath the covers. She crept up to her bedside. As Gilda raised the knife above her head in both hands, Elana’s eyes opened. She gasped when she saw the woman standing over her bed. Gilda plunged the knife into her abdomen, immediately ripped it back out, and watched her gasp and wheeze while clutching her bleeding stomach. Elana stared at Gilda with horror.
Gilda smirked. “Guess what, Elana?” she announced while raising clever brows. “Keefe was using you all this time. He used you to spy on my husband for me, and after I had Farley fire your sister, Keefe and I became lovers.”
Elana stared at her with horror in her eyes while gasping and clutching her abdomen.
“That’s right,” Gilda informed her. “I killed your sister. That whore didn’t just fuck Nole on her wedding day; she was fucking Keefe as well.” Her twisted smile faded to a psychotic look. “And I wasn’t about to tolerate that.”
As Elana continued to wheeze, Gilda leaned closer to her ear. “Every time Keefe fucked you, he was thinking of me,” she whispered.
While straightening, Gilda slashed Elana across her forearm. Elana could barely cry out. The psychotic woman grinned and slashed the dying woman’s forearms several more times while Elana could do little more than whimper and clutch her bleeding midsection. Gilda pulled her hand away from the wound and stabbed her right hand, piercing her palm. Elana cried out, but it wasn’t very loud. As Elana remain staring at her while slowly dying, Gilda grinned. She set the knife on the bed and removed her gloves before heading back to the connecting bathroom. She returned only a moment later with Farley draped across her back and his feet dragging along the floor behind her. She dropped him onto the vacant side of the bed next to Elana, who attempted to speak but couldn’t.
Gilda removed Farley’s pants and underwear, carelessly tossing them to the floor, and then returned to the connecting bathroom. She came back a moment later with his shirt and shoes and set them on the floor as well. Gilda easily rolled her unconscious husband onto Elana, who softly cried out now almost unable to breathe. Gilda put the gloves back on, removed Elana’s hand from between their bodies, and ran her blood-covered hand over Farley’s face before rolling him back to the other side of the bed. She then reclaimed the knife and smiled sweetly at Elana.
“It’s too bad you and Farley got into a lover’s spat,” Gilda informed her with a psychotic look in her eyes. “You tried to fight him off as he stabbed you. Fortunately, right before you died, you got in one, fatal blow.”
Gilda placed the knife in Elana’s hand, clutched her hand over the knife, and rolled her onto her side. She held the knife in Elana’s hand as she plunged it into Farley’s neck. He jerked in his unconscious state but never roused. Gilda pulled the knife from Farley’s neck, while it was still clutched in Elana’s hand, and forced her to drop the knife between them. Gilda released the dying woman. Elana collapsed onto her back and gasped several times before she finally stopped breathing. Gilda grinned with satisfaction.
“Well, that was fun,” Gilda announced then removed her blood-soaked gloves and headed back to the connecting bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She entered her bedroom and returned the bloodied gloves to the plastic bag on her bed. She stashed the bag under the bed and made herself comfortable until Keefe would join her.
§
Gilda impatiently looked at the bedside clock several times while lying seductively on the bed wearing a sexy satin nightgown. A little after midnight, others could be heard in the hallway, but their voices were faint and muffled. She possibly dozed off. When Gilda again looked at the clock, it was nearly one thirty in the morning. Keefe was late. She stood and started to pace. The bedroom door quietly opened. Gilda breathed a sigh of relief when Keefe slipped into the mostly dark room from the dimly lit hallway.
He looked at her and grinned. “Is it done?”
She nodded and threw her arms around his neck. He returned the smile and kissed her passionately and with aggression. He pulled away and smiled while touching her cheek, pleased with her.
“We have to be careful while stuck in this house,” he informed her. “One drink to celebrate, but then I have to return to my room.”
“I’ve survived this long, I can go another day,” she informed him.
Keefe approached the small refrigerator in the elegant cabinet and removed a bottle of wine. She eyed the wine and appeared pleased.
“When did you put that in there?” she asked.
“When I brought the other things to the room,” he replied while grinning. “I thought you’d like to celebrate.”
“Oh, yes,” she replied eagerly. “I’d like to do more than have a glass of wine though.”
“Tomorrow, I promise,” he replied. “When we’re away from here.” He nodded across the room while removing two glasses. “Did you put the gloves in the bag? I’ll take them with me and dispose of them.”
She nodded and removed the bag from under the bed while Keefe poured them each a glass of wine. He removed a small bottle from his jacket pocket and dumped a clear liquid into one of the glasses. He slipped the bottle back into his pocket before picking up the tainted glass of wine and extended it to her. She accepted the glass as he picked up his. Keefe headed for the bed with Gilda eagerly following. They sat on the bed together and held up their glasses.
“To revenge,” he announced while grinning. “And to us.”
“Forever,” she added.
They clinked glasses then drank their wine. When he made a point to finish his entire glass, she did the same. Keefe sprang to his feet.
“I should go before someone finds me here and ruins everything,” he announced. “Remember; wait for someone else to find the bodies.”
She nodded and attempted to stand but couldn’t. Gilda suddenly made a face and gasped. She looked at him with horror.
“What did you do?” she attempted to cry out but could barely speak.
Gilda gasped several times and again attempted to stand. Keefe made comforting sounds and gently guided her back onto the bed.
“Don’t fight it, baby,” he announced while smiling. “Trust me; it’s better this way.”
Gilda collapsed to the bed and couldn’t move. She gasped several times before she stopped breathing. Keefe lovingly shut her eyes then sprang into action. He slipped into a pair of latex gloves, removed his handkerchief, and wiped the bottle of poison clean of his fingerprints. He placed the bottle in her hand, pressed her fingers against it, and set it on the bedside table. He then wiped the outside of her glass clean and also pressed her fingerprints on it, setting it on the table as well. He hurried to the small bar, wiped his fingerprints from the bottle, and brought it to her bedside. He placed her fingerprints on the bottle and placed it on the bedside table alongside the other items.
Keefe grabbed his glass, ran into the bathroom, and hastily washed and dried it. He returned to the bedroom and replaced the clean glass to the bar. He grabbed the plastic bag containing the bloodied gloves and hurried back into the bathroom. He opened the bag, dumped the gloves into the bathroom trashcan, and then entered Elana’s room through the connecting bathroom door. He eyed the scene, grimaced a moment, and hurried for Farley’s body. He easily removed Farley from the bed, careful to keep from getting blood on his own clothes, dragged him across the floor, and deposited him near the bedroom door. He returned to the bed, picked up the blood-covered knife and approached Farley on the floor. Keefe drew a deep breath.
He sucked up his courage and stabbed Farley in the back several times. Keefe made a face, placed his hand to his mouth, and nearly threw up. He collected himself then hurried for the bathroom, dropping the bloodstained knife in the sink. He returned to Gilda’s room and wiped the blood from his gloved hands onto her nightgown. He then removed the latex gloves, placed them in the plastic bag, and hurried for the bedroom door. He took another moment to assess the room and make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Keefe gently opened the door, peered into the hallway, and slipped out of the bedroom.
