"So all that blood and my being accused of killing you was to get even with her?" said Diane.

"No, that was to fake my death and poke you in the eye while doing it. I called Eric Tully on the phone pretending to be you and told him to send me fifteen thousand dollars or I would turn him in."

Diane frowned. "That explains a lot. He only sent four thousand and tried to kill me twice."

"I suppose he was low on cash," said Iris.

"What about Grace Noel and Tully's daughter? Were you just trying to con me?" said Diane.

"No. I figured that whether Tully killed you or not, he would get arrested and Grace would see him for what he was. The kid would go to her to raise-or to another relative if they could find one. Grace isn't the brightest, but she would be good to the little girl," said Iris. "Now, if I've told you everything you want to know. Get in the d.a.m.n room."

Diane walked in and Iris started to close the door. She hesitated and turned back to Diane.

"Rich men are all the same. You may not believe that, but I know it. They are no different from my father. Power doesn't corrupt so much as money does. Vanessa thinks her friend Archer was so good. We were walking on the beach in Malibu when these young girls pa.s.sed by in their string bikinis. They weren't much more than fifteen or sixteen. He said, 'My, aren't those nubile young things?' That was my father's favorite word, nubile nubile. Men are all alike, and rich men are the worst because they can buy anything they want. You tell that to your friend Vanessa."

She slammed the door. Diane heard the key turn in the lock. She stood a moment and listened to Iris' footfalls go down the hall. The first thing she did was start searching the room. The drawers were filled with linens, sheets, holiday tablecloths, and napkins- nothing hard that she could use as a weapon. Maybe she could tie the sheets together and climb down to the ground. She went to the window and threw open the curtain. The window was nailed shut and boarded up on the outside.

Diane looked at the curtain rod. Now, there was a possibility. She climbed up on top of the vanity and took the heavy metal rod off the brackets, slid the rod apart, and slid the curtains off. Now she had two weapons. It was sort of like a lance. The finials made fairly good points. Probably wouldn't puncture the skin, but she could certainly knock the wind out of someone with it-hit them right in the solar plexus and they wouldn't get up for a while.

She laid the rods on the bed, went to the closet, and threw the doors open. It was a large walk-in closet, large enough for a small bedroom or a large bathroom. She turned on the light at the switch just inside the doorway. Garment bags hung on the rods on both sides. More rods. She examined them, but they were permanently affixed to the walls.

Clear plastic boxes were stacked up under the clothes. Diane leaned down to see what was in the boxes. Guns and ammunition, she hoped. There wasn't quite enough light, so she grabbed one of the lids and started to open it when a hand shot out and grabbed her arm, digging deep into the skin through the fabric with its nails. Diane yelped and jumped back. The hand held on. It looked mummified, but it was alive and grasping. Diane grabbed the arm with her other hand and pried the grip loose just as a shriveled face appeared from between the bags.

"Help me."

It was a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"Please, help me."

It was a very old man, his eyes were red rimmed, and he had a trickle of saliva running down his chin.

"Please..."

He was suddenly propelled backward and disappeared into the wall.

Chapter 52.

Diane stood dumbfounded, staring at the swinging garment bags. She gathered her wits about her and knelt down, pulled out the boxes, and pressed on the wall. There was a give in the bead board. She heard a loud, high-pitched, but m.u.f.fled voice behind the wall.

"Please, help me. Help me, please," said a mocking voice. "Do you think anyone came to help Iris when she called out for help, Alain, dear?"

Diane heard slapping sounds and more yelling.

"Mr. Delaflote... Mrs. Delaflote?" Diane called out. "Is that you?"

"Who is that? Who knows our name? Get away from here. You'll make them mad. Don't make my flowers mad. Tell them I didn't let him get away."

Diane heard a rattling coming from her bedroom door. She stepped out of the closet and grabbed one of the curtain rods. She slipped the other one under the bed. She turned out the lights in the room and stood off to the side, ready to strike.

The door opened an inch.

"Diane?"

"Kingsley?" she said.

Diane turned on the light. Kingsley slipped in and Diane closed the door behind him.

"How did you get in here? For that matter, how did you get out of your room?" she asked.

"I picked the lock. These old locks are easy for a clever fellow like me. Granted, it's not as clever as putting a cell phone under a dresser." He grinned at her. He looked better than he had at dinner.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I've had better days, but I'm all right," he a.s.sured her.

"I think I've found Ma and Pa Delaflote," she said.

"Really? Are they alive?" he said.

"Alive, but payback is definitely a b.i.t.c.h. He hasn't aged gracefully." she said. Diane told him about the encounter. "They are right behind that wall." She pointed into the closet.

"d.a.m.n. Did the girls lock them both up, or . . . or what?" he said.

"I think so," said Diane. "I'm not really sure. It looked like only Mr. Delaflote wanted to escape."

"I like your weapon, by the way," he said.

Diane fished out the other side of the curtain rod and gave it to him.

"I had curtain rods. I should have thought of this," he said.

"You picked the locks," said Diane. "We have weapons and I have a lot of false bravado. So now what's the plan?"

"See if we can find a way out. My windows are nailed shut, are yours?"

"Yes," she told him.

"Let's see if we can find a back stairway," he said.

They peeked into the hallway. Empty. They stepped into the corridor, closed the door behind them, and walked gently to a door across the hall and tried to open it. It was locked. They tried another one. Locked as well. They made their way to the stairway they had originally come up with Iris. The two of them stopped and listened. Diane wondered if they could hear her heart pounding. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

They heard voices, but none near. They were m.u.f.fled and sounded heated. The triplets were having an argument. Good Good, thought Diane.

"Should we try to get out the front door? Back door?" whispered Diane.

"Do you remember if the steps squeaked as we came up?" he asked softly.

Diane thought for a moment. "Yes, but maybe if we stick close to the wall they won't squeak as much. The house must make noises all the time. I don't understand why they didn't hear Ma and Pa just now. Maybe they won't hear us."

Diane led the way. Kingsley followed close behind. They hugged the wall with each step. So far, so good. When Diane entered the house she had been relieved to find it bright and well lit. Now she wished it were dark. Each time the steps creaked, a tremor of fear went though her. The lightheartedness she felt when she first saw Kingsley was giving way to dread.

As they descended the staircase the voices grew louder and clearer.

"None of this is his fault, Iris. He made the best decisions he could. It isn't his fault he ran across that Diane person. She figured this out. I think she would have anyway, even if Joey had made no mistakes. She knew too much about you... about us."

"That doesn't matter now," said an identical voice. "We need to get out of here and quickly. Whatever we do with them, the marshals are going to come anyway."

"This has gone so wrong."

"You did this, Iris. This is your mess."

"You don't mind spending the money."

Diane couldn't distinguish the voices; they all sounded like Clymene.

The triplets were in the dinning room and the door was closed. Diane motioned to the back of the house. Kingsley nodded. They tiptoed past the door and down a hallway to the back, where Diane hoped to find the kitchen and a knife along the way out.

Through a set of double doors they walked into the kitchen. It was a modern kitchen with a large island in the middle. There was a breakfast nook in the corner. Joey was sitting with his back to them, eating a bowl of ice cream.

He heard the noise, turned around toward them, and looked startled at the sight, but he was slow to react. Diane ran at him, using her curtain rod as a lance. She didn't think it would do much more than stun him, but she put her momentum behind it. She aimed for his chest. He dodged, and the point of her improvised spear punched into his throat and he fell to the floor gagging on ice cream. She and Kingsley rushed past him for the door.

"Can you run?" asked Diane as they went down the outside steps.

"What does it look like?" he said. "Do you know where we're going?"

"Head for the woods," she said.

They ran across the field that Diane had seen when they drove up. It was bordered by a tall wire fence she might be able to climb over, but it was too tall for Kingsley in his condition. She spotted a gap under the fence where it crossed a shallow ditch. They ran for it. It was a low opening, big enough for animals to get through, but was it big enough for them?

They made it to the fence. Diane kicked at briars that grew into the wire. She lay down on her back and wiggled into the opening, pushing at the fence, trying to make the hole larger. After what seemed like too long, she pulled herself out the other side of the fence. She turned to help Kingsley. That's when she saw the triplets running across the pasture after them. Joey wasn't with them. Two were carrying guns.

Kingsley lay on his back and wiggled from side to side under the fence as far as he could. He reached for Diane with his good arm. She locked arms with him and pulled hard as he wiggled and pushed with his feet. She knew he was in pain but they both ignored it as he strained to get under the fence. Finally he slid through and stumbled to his feet.

"Run like h.e.l.l," said Diane.

They ran. Diane heard shots and saw the ground spit out a piece of turf several feet from her. The stand of trees she was aiming for wasn't tall and thick like Georgia woods, but it would have to do.

Diane ran faster and realized she was leaving Kingsley behind. She slowed down and grabbed him by the arm.

"Go on," he said.

"No, come on. Run as hard as you can. They can't get under the fence easily in those dresses. We have to get out of range of their guns. You can rest up when we're safe; now, get the lead out," she said.

He picked up his speed. They were almost to the woods.

"Faster," she said. "Keep going."

There were more shots and one pinged off an outcrop of rocks a few yards away. But they reached the trees.

"Keep running," she said.

"Need to stop. Go on," he wheezed. "My lungs are aching."

"It doesn't matter. Run," she said.

Ahead there was a road of sorts and a marsh on the other side. She heard a vehicle coming up the road. She ran toward it to flag it down, then stopped. It was the minivan Joey had brought them in.

"d.a.m.n," she said. Where are the d.a.m.n marshals? Where are the d.a.m.n marshals? She needed time to think. To get her breath. She needed time to think. To get her breath.

There was noise behind them. It was the triplets. They had found a way around the fence and were coming in their direction. The van was coming toward them. Across the road was a marsh. No escape in the marsh. The only alternative was to run up the road. And be chased by the van? That wouldn't work.

Diane picked up a rock and waited for the minivan to draw closer, hoping that if she waited until the last second and threw the rock at the windshield it would make Joey dodge. Kingsley followed suit.

Joey aimed for them.

"Get behind a tree," said Diane. "Now."

"What are you-" he began.

"Now!" she said.

Kingsley threw his rock toward the oncoming van with no result. He ran to the trees for cover. Diane waited. She saw Joey. His face was contorted in anger. Diane waited. She saw the van accelerate. She stared him down. He gunned the engine, driving directly at her. She threw her rock into the windshield square in front of Joey's face and jumped away at the last minute. The van crashed into the trees, exploding the air bags. Diane was beside the van almost before it stopped. She jerked open the driver's side door, pulling Joey to the ground. She felt between the seats for his gun and grabbed hold of it just as she felt Joey bite into her leg.

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h," she screamed and kicked at him.

Kingsley appeared from around the front and kicked him hard in the side of his head. Joey let go of her leg and lay on the ground, not moving.

"Give me the gun," said Kingsley.

"Why?" said Diane.

"Because I'm probably a better shot with a gun," he said.

Diane handed him the gun. He checked the bullets.

"Now you take cover," he said.

Diane got behind the van and watched Kingsley. He rested his arm on the door of the van and took aim as the sisters came running out of the woods. He shot and one of them fell.

"Rose! Oh, Rose," a voice shouted.

Diane saw a patch of red spread on her upper left torso as she lay on the ground. Diane couldn't tell if she was dead.