A Noise Downstairs(101)

“I don’t see how,” Gabriella said. She glanced at her son, who took a step closer to Charlotte.

“You can—Leonard here, he’s big and strong—can get Bill out of here. Dump him someplace far away! No one knows Bill came to see me tonight!”

“Where’s his car?”

“Up the street. You could take it! I’ll give you the keys. They’re upstairs, in his pants. You get rid of the car and him.” An idea struck her. “I could help! I can drive the car! Whatever you need, I can do it.”

“And you’ll never tell a soul,” Gabriella said.

Charlotte brightened. “Yes!”

Gabriella motioned to the table where the typewriter sat. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

Charlotte was eager to oblige. She pulled out a chair, sat down. Gabriella sat down at an angle to her.

“Why would I tell anyone?” Charlotte said. “I did—I admit this—I did a bad thing. Very bad. If I ever told anyone about what happened here tonight, all that would come out. So I have to keep quiet. Not just to protect you, but to protect myself.”

Gabriella nodded slowly. “I did a bad thing, too. When I slit the throats of those two women. But my motivation was pure. It was just. Those women had slept with my husband. They had mocked the sanctity of marriage. What I did was teach them a lesson. That was why I wanted those apologies. In writing. I had the law of morality on my side. Oh, I know not everyone would see it that way. You might argue that my husband was no better. But he was my husband. I’d taken a vow, as had he. For better or for worse. And he did redeem himself.”

Charlotte said nothing.

“And while both of us have done bad things, I think you and I are very different. What you did was so very selfish, so self-centered. You plotted to kill your husband so you could be with that man.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “Your bad deeds have been in the service of mocking the institution of marriage. Mine were in its defense.”

Any hope one might have seen in Charlotte’s eyes was fading. “I know what you’re saying, I do. But—”

Gabriella raised a silencing hand. “I don’t think you’re someone I can trust.”

“I am! I—”

“Where’s the bathroom?” Len said.

Their eyes turned to Leonard, who was standing at one end of the kitchen island.

He shrugged. “I have to go.”

Charlotte sprang to her feet. “I can show you where it is,” she said with forced hospitality. She started across the room, pointing. Her path was taking her close to the top of the stairs that led to the front door.

“No!” Gabriella said. The order was meant for both Charlotte and her son.

As she neared the top of the staircase, Charlotte bolted.

“Leonard!”

Despite his size and lumbering nature, Leonard was quick. He turned on his heels and went after Charlotte.

He reached out and managed to grab her by the hair, yanking her back like a puppet on a string. As she was snapped back, he used her momentum against her, propelling her into the wall where he’d first pinned her by the neck.

Charlotte screamed.

Gabriella cocked her head to one side. Was that the doorbell she heard? It was hard to tell with all the other racket. She pushed back her chair and moved toward the struggle.

Leonard grabbed Charlotte by her right arm and flung her toward the steps like a bear flinging a rag doll. Charlotte sailed out into the stairwell, airborne. She didn’t land until seven steps down, her head connecting first with a wooden riser, making a sound like the crack of a bat hitting a ball.

Leonard and his mother ran to the top of the stairs and watched Charlotte’s lifeless body tumble down the remaining steps.

And the door at the bottom was flung open.

Anna White took two swift steps into the house, froze momentarily as she saw the body hurtling toward her, then screamed.

“Good God,” Gabriella said.

Anna’s gaze went higher. Saw Leonard and Gabriella looming over her like two vindictive gods.

She backed out of the house and ran.

“Stop her!” Gabriella said to her son.

Leonard ran down the stairs, leaping over the dead woman. Gabriella followed, but it took her longer to navigate around Charlotte. By the time she was outside and could take in what was happening, Anna had reached the end of the driveway, Leonard only a step behind her.

Anna tripped on the curb and went down in the middle of the deserted street. Her purse fell off her shoulder and hit the pavement, spilling car keys and a cell phone. She tried to scramble to her feet, but Leonard was on her, viciously kicking her upper thigh. She shrieked with pain, fell back, and clutched at her leg.

Now Gabriella was at her son’s side, struggling to catch her breath.

“Who the hell is she?” she asked, shaking her head furiously with frustration.

“I don’t know,” her son replied. “What should I do?”

Gabriella took a quick look up and down the street and was relieved to see it was deserted.

“Kill her,” she said.

At which point there was a strange sound. A whoosh. Something cutting through the air at considerable speed.

Behind them.

And then a loud whomp.

Leonard staggered, nearly stepping on Anna.

Gabriella whirled around and said, “What the—”