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“And last night?”

“He said he was going to the woods to check on the cabin.”

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

“He didn’t want me to. Said he could handle it.”

“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary when he came back?”

“I don’t know. By the time he returned I’d already gone to bed.”

“Hasn’t he said anything to you about where he was? Or to your mom?”

“Mom asked him about it, but he said it was best if she didn’t know.”

“That must have got you worried.”

“It did.” He lifted a teary face to Chase. “I think he did it, detective. I think he went out there and killed those men. And now I don’t know what to do.”

“What does your mom think?”

“The same. We haven’t talked about it, but I can tell she thinks Dad killed them.” He gulped. “He killed them all, didn’t he? And now he’s going to rot in prison for the rest of his life, and Mom is going to die alone—without him. And all because the police couldn’t make the men whokilled Poppy pay for their crime.”

Chapter 33

Harriet and Brutus were back at the offices of Morro& Wissinski, insurance agents, and things were a little worrisome. Omar Wissinski, ever since he was conked over the head, had been behaving strangely. That morning he arrived late, and was in a real state.

“He’s dead!” he cried when he finally walked in, one hour late.

“Who’s dead, Mr. Wissinski?” asked Scarlett, who’d been patiently doing her nails when her boss had failed to put in an appearance.

“Sergio, of course!”

Scarlett’s jaw dropped. “Zeus is dead? Oh, no!”

Omar was pacing the office, clutching at his hair for some reason, as if hoping it would provide the answers he was looking for.“She killed him. I just know she did!”

“Who killed him?” asked Scarlett, looking to the entrance just in case she needed to make a quick getaway.

Omar stopped pacing and planted himself in front of Scarlett’s desk, eyeing her feverishly. “Why, the Careen woman, of course. They arrested Dominic, you know.”

“Oh, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” asked Scarlett, trying to get the man to calm down.

“It is good. It’s very good. But it’s not good enough, is it? They should arrest Kristina, too. She’s behind this whole thing—I just know she is!”

“But isn’t Kristina Careen agro-phobic? Or something?”

“That’s what she says. But I’m sure she’s faking it!”

“But she hasn’t left the house in thirteen years.”

“Of course she has. When no one is watching, she leaves that house—to kill my friends!”

“That’s what Gran said,” Harriet whispered.

“I know she did, sugar pie,” said Brutus.

“She was right. Kristina Careen is faking it!”

“But if she’s faking it, don’t you think someone would have seen her?” asked Scarlett.

“It’s easy enough to make sure you’re not seen if you don’t want to be,” said Omar, who’d returned to pacing the floor. “You don a disguise, or you only leave the house after dark.” He wheeled on Scarlett. “Which is why both Joel and Sergio were killed at night! Of course! Kristina killed Joel and Sergio, and Dominic killed Jona and Dunc and tried to kill me!” He uttered a small cry of anguish and clasped a hand to his face, eyes wide. “She’s coming for me next, isn’t she? Dominic is in jail, but she’s still out there, biding her time.” He glanced to the door, and when he saw the sturdy form of the security man standing sentinel, he seemed to lose some of his anguish. “She can’t come in here, though, can she?”

“No, sir,” said Scarlett. “You’re perfectly safe in here. Kristina can’t get to you.”

“I need security at the house, too,” Omar mumbled, fingering his lips. “I’ll have to up security at the house, at the office… for as long as Kristina is still out there. That cop said he was going to provide police protection but so far I haven’t seen it.”

“And what about the son?” asked Scarlett the logical question.

“What about the son?” asked Omar, his head jerking up and his feverish gaze returning to Scarlett.

“Well, if the mother is involved, and so is the father, don’t you think the son might be involved, too?”

Omar’s jaw had dropped as he considered this possibility. “Oh, God. He’s going to take over his parents’ mission, isn’t he? You see it in movies all the time. James Bond kills the father and then twenty years later the son suddenly pops up and tries to kill James!”

“Maybe you should tell the police,” Scarlett suggested helpfully.

“Oh, the police are absolutely useless!” Omar cried viciously. “They simply twiddle their thumbs and do nothing while all four of my friends are being butchered by these maniacs!” He directed a wrathful look at the ceiling, as if it had personally insulted him, and muttered, “I’ll just have to take care of this myself, won’t I? I’ll have to handle this personally, if the police aren’t going to.” He nodded to himself. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do.”

“I wouldn’t do that, if you were you, sir,” said Scarlett, holding up her hand to draw her employer’s attention.

“Oh, who asked you!” the man spat, then retreated into his office and slammed the door.