Chapter 25

Ivy had quite sensibly called 9-1-1 before tackling Martha. By the time the police arrived, I had checked both Jessica and Martha and relayed their condition over the phone to Debbie Ann. Jessica was unconscious but breathing normally and I didn’t find much blood. Maybe her wound was only minor, and it had hit her hard because of her agitated or even drugged state. A problem for the medics, when they arrived. Martha’s head wasn’t bleeding, but then, head wounds don’t always, and she could easily have a concussion or even a subdural hematoma. I hoped the ambulance arrived soon. I wouldn’t mourn too much if Martha died, but I suspected that killing someone, even to save a life, would hit Ivy hard. Then again, maybe I was underestimating Ivy. If she really had been the timid soul we all thought she was, I’d be dead by now.

Ivy had found a roll of duct tape and trussed up their ankles. We decided maybe binding their wrists was overkill, since both of them were still unconscious, and it might interfere with whatever the EMTs would want to do. Though just to be safe, we also taped their ankles to heavy things—Jessica’s to what remained of the Christmas tree and Martha’s to the more-intact of the two sofas.

Martha came around enough to start yelling just as the first police officer, Aida Butler, strode in the door, gun in hand.

“You bitch!” Martha roared, clapping her hands to her head.

“Not a really smart thing to say to a lady armed with forty-five-caliber semiautomatic weapon,” Aida said.

“I think she means me,” Ivy said, with a shy smile.

“She tried to kill me!” Martha roared, and she followed it up with a string of expletives.

“Please be quiet, ma’am,” Aida said.

Martha continued her X-rated tirade.

“Ma’am,” Aida said, stepping into Martha’s field of vision. “Please be quiet, or I will be forced to arrest you for obstructing a police officer—”

Instead of shutting up, Martha increased her volume, and then she grabbed the umbrella stand Ivy had used to hit her and threw it at Aida. I winced, and mentally kicked myself for not moving it out of Martha’s reach. But who knew she’d regain consciousness so quickly? The umbrella stand hit Aida’s shin and then dropped down on her toe.

“Aiiieee!” Aida screamed. And then “Rainbows! Rainbows! Rainbows!”

For some reason, this seemed to unnerve Martha, and she finally shut up.

Just in time.

“What’s going on here?”

Chief Burke had arrived.

Things happened fast. More officers arrived—almost every officer on the force—and the paramedics along with them. Chief Burke hustled Ivy into the dining room and me into Sarah’s study, so I got to watch through the French doors while first Jessica and then Martha were hauled off to the ambulance.

Should I call Michael? I didn’t want to wake him if he’d dropped off to sleep. Or worry him by not calling if he was still waiting up. I pulled out my phone and texted him. “I’m OK. Coming home as soon as I can.”

I lay back in the red-velvet armchair and worked on the deep breathing Rose Noire was always telling me I should do more of whenever I felt stressed. I really wanted to be somewhere else—anywhere else, thinking about anything other than crazy Jessica and murderous Martha. I’d have found it very comforting to pull out my notebook and start making lists, but I’d long ago figured out that most people looked at me oddly if they saw me busily making lists in the middle of a stressful situation—like almost being murdered. But still, it would be some comfort to work on a mental list of tasks I’d need to do to get the show house moving. Like calling to postpone the photographer. And finding out from the chief when we could have the house back. And coming up with a plan for Mother’s room.

Mother’s room.

I watched as Horace came in. He stood few minutes in the archway to the living room, obviously in shock, before plunging into the room to start his forensic work.

Part of me wanted to start dealing with Mother’s room, and part of me just wanted to go home, check on the boys, curl up in bed beside Michael, and sleep for the next twelve hours.

I was not looking forward to being interviewed by the chief.

“Don’t worry.” It was Aida, coming through the front door. “She’s fine.”

“I want to see for myself.” Michael followed Aida in.

I ran out into the hall and threw myself at him.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“I’m fine,” I said. “And I am definitely not doing the show house next year. If there even is a show house after this. Where are the boys?”

“Home with Mom,” he said. “They’ll be fine and—oh, my God. Your mother’s room. It’s a disaster.”

“We need to find Dad, and make sure he’s here when she sees it,” I said.

Michael nodded.

The chief stepped into the room.

“Meg, I know you’re pretty tired,” he said. “But if I could just ask you a few questions…”

“I’ll tell you all about it,” I said.

It took a while, of course. And the whole while I was talking to him I could see people coming and going. Aida. Sammy. All the other town law enforcement officers. Randall. All of them, when they saw the great room for the first time, stopped dead in their tracks and stared for a few moments before shaking their heads.

“I think that should do it,” the chief said finally, standing up.

Seeing that we were finishing, Randall Shiffley opened one French door and stepped in.

“Good news from the hospital,” he said. “Both nut jobs will live to stand trial.”

“That’s good,” the chief said.

“What now?” I asked.

“Now?” The chief looked startled. “Go home and get some sleep.”

“I need to start doing something about that room as soon as you release it,” I said.

“Meg,” Michael began.

“I can’t let Mother see it like that,” I said. “Chief, promise me you won’t let Mother in until we clean it up a little bit.”

“As soon as the chief releases it, I’ll be here with my crew,” Randall said. “I’ll bring in as many cousins as it takes, and she won’t see it like this.”

“I’ll send a deputy over to your parents’ at first light, to break the news to her,” the chief said. “And I won’t let your mother into the crime scene until you’re back to help her cope. But for now, you need to get some rest.”

“I won’t sleep a wink,” I muttered to Michael as we walked out to the Twinmobile.

“Just close your eyes and rest then,” he said.

I slept so soundly he almost couldn’t wake me up when we got home.

And woke up well before dawn, already worrying.

Chapter 26

December 23

“It’s not even seven,” Michael mumbled as he watched me pull on my clothes.

“I have to get over there before Mother sees her room.” I raced downstairs and into the kitchen to grab something to eat.

Michael followed me.

“And I need to figure out how to fix it,” I said over my shoulder as I stuck a cup of water with a tea bag in it into the microwave.

“You’ve got Randall and his workmen,” he said. “They can fix most of the damage.”

“They can fix the walls and the woodwork.” I rummaged through the fridge for a yogurt. “But I’m pretty sure they can’t sew or do upholstery.”

“You go over to the show house and help your mother through the shock of seeing the room,” he said. “I think I can find you a few people to do a bit of sewing. Leave it to me.”

“Thanks,” I said. And then the microwave dinged, so I snagged my tea and the yogurt and dashed out the door.

There weren’t quite as many police vehicles at the house when I got there. Only two patrol cars and the chief’s blue sedan. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? I also spotted three trucks from the Shiffley Construction Company parked in front and a Dumpster in the driveway. A dozen tall, lanky Shiffleys in boots, jeans, and heavy jackets leaned against the trucks with carryout coffee cups in their hands or stood in twos and threes on the sidewalk. Two shorter forms, heavily bundled, were barely recognizable as Tomás and Mateo. Eustace stood by them, blowing on his hands.