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“You were married to Ian?” I ask her, unable to fully process this revelation.
“Crazy, huh?” Her expression turns smug. “Of course he had his own hair back then, not that stuff the drugs grew for him. And of course, I looked a little different back then too. I used to be a brunette, if you can believe it. Guess Ian had a type.” She stands on tiptoes to give me a pointed look. “Me, Connie, Cleo, you. All dark-haired women who worked for him. That pig of a man. Do you know he didn’t even recognize me when he hit on me at a bar last year? I hadn't even dyed my hair blonde yet, and he still didn’t recognize me…” she clucks her tongue in disapproval.
“Well to tell you the truth it reawakened my thirst for revenge. That man,” she seems to shake with anger, “ruined me, you know that? I thought what we had was forever, but he took my heart and stomped all over it. I’ve spent years trying to move on from what happened, married two other men, switched up my careers, changed the way I looked—all to try and get over what he did to me.” Her voice turns hoarse. “But none of it worked. Nothing could undo the damage he did to me by cheating on me, by leaving me destitute and alone. I went from living like a queen as his wife to having to rebuild my life from the ashes.”
“So was it him or the money that you missed?” Jack interjects.
Stella’s mouth twists into a demented smile. “You know, you’re awfully mouthy for a man with a gun to his chest. I’ll have you know I rebuilt my life quite nicely, and I never would have come after Ian if it weren’t for that night at the bar when I realized that I never meant anything to him. Worse, for ten years I’d believed him to be right: I was worthless. Do you know what it’s like to have a man take away your worth?”
For the first time her icy demeanor cracks, giving us a glimpse of the wounded woman beneath. Stella is clearly crazy, but nonetheless I feel the tiniest bit of sympathy for her. It’s a mistake for anyone to try and get their worth from another person, and I certainly don’t need Jack to give me my worth—but that doesn’t change the fact that when Jack looks at me I feel like a treasure of the highest value.
“Can’t say that I do,” Jack answers her flatly, and despite the peril of our situation, the urge to laugh rises in my chest. Wildly inappropriate, but Jack has always been able to find a way to make me laugh.
“You mock my pain?” Stella’s cold fury is back and my moment of humor vanishes as quickly as it came.
“Nobody is mocking anybody,” Jack tells her, still calm. Still in control. “I actually agree with you—Ian Wharfman was a jerk.”
“Ah, yes,” Stella tosses her hair, “you would think so, given what he tried on Nora last night. You should be thanking me for killing him.”
“I would, but my gratitude is being stifled by the gun in my face.”
“Fair enough.” She eyes her watch again.
“Speaking of, care to explain why exactly you lured us here to kill us?” Jack asks. “Or at least I assume that’s what that frantic phone call to Nora was about—a ploy to get us to the office.”
“Figured that out, did you? Nice to know you’re not just eye candy, Detective man,” Stella replies. “As I said before, Nora was never supposed to be involved in any of this. The events of last night were at once unfortunate and yet quite fortuitous. Sven, who by now you’ve figured out was my partner in all of this, had been meticulously laying a trail that pointed to Cleo as the supplier of Ian’s Minoxidil should the police decide to run an investigation into his unexpected death.”
“The pictures on her dashboard,” Jack says.
“In part, yes,” Stella confirms. “But of course plans changed when we overheard what happened on the bug we placed on Ian’s car. Quite suddenly we had a new fall guy for the murder because someone else had actually murdered him before the drugs killed him!” She shakes her head. “At first we thought it was perfect. Sure, I felt bad Nora was involved, but you did kill the man…that’s not my fault.” For the first time she sounds defensive.
Unfortunately it doesn’t make me feel any better to know that someone I thought was my friend feels a little guilty for framing me for murder. I’m so upset I could swear my ears are buzzing.
“How about moving the body to her front lawn?” Jack’s voice is furious. “Did you feel bad about doing that?”
“Excuse me, but you were the one who was going to help cover the whole thing up, Jack!” Stella’s voice is agitated. “Sven said we had no choice but to move the body to Nora’s front lawn. If we had just let you two hide the body, the police would have launched an investigation into his disappearance. They would have found out about my history with him. They would have found out about Sven prescribing him the Minoxidil and how Ian was the one responsible for getting Sven’s medical license revoked. Those sound like motives to me.”
“Rightly so,” Jack mutters darkly.
“And then we would’ve found ourselves smack dab in the middle of a murder investigation, which obviously neither of us wanted. So you see, it’s not my fault you’re in this mess. Cleo was supposed to take the fall for us, not Nora.”
“Why her and not Connie?” Jack asks.
“Oh, well, it was meant to be her at first, but when I first approached Sven at the gym with the information about his wife’s affair, he was furious. He’d just lost his license a few weeks prior and was more than happy to join my revenge plan. He wanted to destroy Cleo with the same intensity that I wanted to destroy Ian. Since it was his idea to replace the diuretic tablets Ian was supposed to be taking with some lookalike zinc tablets, it was only fair that I agree to frame Cleo for the murder instead of Connie. I figured I could take care of Connie later.” She sighs, checking her watch. “Where is Sven, anyway? I cleared out the office almost an hour ago then told him to get over here. As much as I love putting my brilliance on display, time is of the essence here. I’d hate for Frank to interfere by showing up early for his shift. Not that he could stop us, but I hate to add to our body count.”
“Yes, what’s it at now? Two with Ian and Cleo, soon to be four after you kill us?” Jack is back to sounding conversational, which is quite the feat considering he’s talking about our future deaths.
“Only one so far,” Stella replies sharply. “Let’s not forget that in the end, your wife back there killed Ian.”
Jack doesn’t correct her. He clearly doesn’t want her to find out that the police will probably be investigating the Minoxidil angle further. All Stella seems to do when she gets information is use it to justify killing more people.
“And anyway,” she huffs, “Sven went off script killing Cleo like that. He was angry that she wasn’t going to go to jail for Ian’s murder after all. Now that’s another mess for me to clean up.”
“Oh stop fretting, Stella.” The door to the stairs opens up and Sven himself steps inside, dragging a bound and gagged Connie Wharfman behind him. “After we stage this fight scene, nobody will come looking for Cleo’s murderer.”
“Stage this fight scene?” Jack echoes. His tone gives nothing away about how he feels about Sven’s arrival, but I note the sudden tensing of his shoulders and the subtle shift backward as if to block me even more from potential bullets. “So that’s your plan then? Shoot all three of us and make it look like we killed each other?”
“Brilliant, right?” Stella drawls.
