A Fine Mess

Chapter 43

"What the hell are you doing here?" Peter moved in front of Miriam to confront the figure lolling on one of the tapestry-covered sofas. Around the room stood several gurneys with elaborate coffins perched atop, their lids open to reveal the designer interiors.

"Waiting for you, Peter."

"What do you mean, waiting for me? Miriam?" Peter turned and froze. Miriam stood casually with all her weight on one leg, pointing a small, silenced gun at his chest. "Wha- Miriam?" He spun around as the man came past him and placed an arm over Miriam's shoulder.

"Surprise, Peter." He planted a kiss on her cheek and they smiled happily together.

"You- you planned this all along? But it was your money..." His voice sounded incredulous.

"Yeah it was, Peter. And thanks for the overseas connection... and the password. Those bonds will give us lots of time in private to uhmm, appreciate your contribution, so to speak."

"But we- you said you loved me..."

"Oh, Peter. At the time I probably did but that was simply business. I guess that will be the last dalliance for the mighty Peter Delacourte."

"Miriam, for God's sake. We- you and I, we..."

"Sorry, Peter. Never you and I. You were a means to an end... not an unpleasant one from time to time mind you, but still..."

"You won't get away with this. There are people working in here for God's sake. What do you think, you're going to shoot me? Here, in a funeral home?" He laughed nervously.

"Yes, actually." Miriam raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The snick was deadened in the heavily insulated room and Peter toppled backwards with no more than a weak grunt and a bewildered look. A small red hole blossomed like a third eye in his forehead.

"Helen, would you come in now, please." Miriam shut the door after the young woman. "Which of these do we put him in?"

Helen marched immediately to a cherry wood casket with silver fittings and reached inside, lifting the satin lining and revealing a plastic sheet spread on the bottom of the inside. "Right in here."

The man helped Helen close the lid and stepped back, dusting his hands. "So long, Peter."

Miriam patted Helen on the arm and thanked her, watching as the young woman pocketed the thick bundle of bills. "I think that should more than cover our agreement, dear."

"Absolutely. May I offer my condolences for uhm- both your gentlemen?" The two women shared a conspiratorial smile.

"Come Arnold, we have a plane to catch."

•••

Miriam paced back and forth in the VIP lounge of the airport, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Outside the spacious windows she watched as the emergency vehicles clustered about the aircraft like insects on a spill of sugar. The pilot had clipped the frame of one of the motorized stair assemblies and damaged a wing tip. Now the plane was being taken out of service and the luggage was being off loaded and returned to the terminal.

"I've spoken to the airline manager and he says that another plane is being rerouted to include our destination. Most of the people from that plane will have to wait until later this evening but about a dozen of us can get on this other flight in about three hours." She slowed as he came up with his news and now stopped at the announcement of three hours.

"That is unacceptable." Her voice retained the familiar soft, furriness but the words word hard and firmly accented. "The market is already open here. We must leave immediately."

"The alternative is to rent a private plane but we'll be leaving a bigger trail if we try to go that route from here."

"So we'll go from somewhere else. They can't track us in a car." She unfolded her arms and brushed the sleeves of her suit jacket smooth. "Make a decision, Arnold, we have Peter's bag full of money to consider as well."

•••

Chester Dorn stood wringing his hands, watching the police cars idling in the forecourt with pained features, as Mike questioned he and the young female assistant about Miriam Spenser-Forbin.

"She was here with a gentleman—I didn't get his name—and Helen escorted them to our Remembrance Setting Room... do your vehicles have to sit out there... in plain sight?"

"I can't see your customers complaining, sir. What did the gentleman look like?"

"Oh, the first one or the second one?" Dorn sucked his teeth and turned a squinched face toward Mike.

"Huh? There were two?" Jarlayne nudged Gil and flicked her eyes toward the young assistant. She had turned pale and was slowly moving to the side, her eyes downcast.

"Yes. A man came in first, alone. Helen spoke with him I think."

The, 'I think' gave her a temporary break. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't see anyone else." She glanced wide-eyed at the group.

"Yes, yes." Dorn flustered. "I saw you taking him upstairs. The dark-haired man in the blazer." Helen's mouth worked silently and her eyes flitted toward the door.

"How about that, miss? If you have been lying, now's the time to start making amends."

Helen turned red and her eyes filled as she turned and fled toward the stairs. Dorn bellowed a surprised command to halt, covering his mouth as he realized his crass transgression in the serenity of his establishment. Mike and Gil scampered up the stairs after the girl while Jarlayne went to the door and called to a pair of uniforms.

"She went in there," Gil panted, pointing to the door next to the one marked, Remembrance Setting Room. They shoved through into the room and stopped dead at the sight of Helen holding the lining of the coffin up above the blank face of Peter Delacourte.

"He's been shot." Mike led Helen away to one of the sofas and sat her down. "Time for an explanation, Helen."

"I've got an all points at the airports, train stations... the usual. We're over an hour behind them, they could be anywhere by now. This Arnold Chang, who is he again?" Gil provided what skimpy information he had on the president of Cybrus Corporation and sank back in the rear seat trying to squeeze out the impending headache. The twists and turns of the case were making him ill.

"My bet is the airport. It's the fastest if you want to get the furthest away." Jarlayne hooked a thumb under her shoulder belt and resettled it more comfortably. "If I take this off, are you going to fine me?"

"It's your head if I have to stop fast." Mike kept his eyes on the road, feeling hers boring into his ear.

"I'm not used to that."

"So, take it off."

"That I'm used to." She slipped the harness of and flexed her chest. "That's better." Mike was blushing furiously.

"You think there's any point in going all the way out there now?" Gil watched the couple from the rear seat, pitying Mike's future with a hint of jealousy.

"As you said, it's the best bet for a quick exit. There's nothing else we can do if they made it off."

"I feel sorry for the young girl, she was used as carelessly as all the others in this thing."

"She's got her money," Mike said without much interest. "And she took her chances."

"You're a hard man, Detective." Gil looked out at the passing scenery, mile after mile of modern industrial complexes with names gleaned from some futuristic dictionary. Jarlayne remained silent, thankfully.