Blackbird 02 - Dead Girls Don't Wear Diamonds (26 page)

Michael looked after them and said, "That boy is in big trouble."

Emma returned, carrying a glass newly filled with ice and clear liquid. "Ready?"

"That was quick," I observed.

"He'll wait," she said. "I've given him a few things to think about until I get back." She dangled his keys in the air. "Meanwhile, we can go for a ride."

Michael was looking at the red pickup. "I guess you couldn't find a fire truck?"

"Is it too ostentatious?"

"Not for a Fourth of July parade."

"It's the best I could do on short notice."

"Maybe I should go look for something a little less showy," Michael said. "Something that doesn't glow in the dark."

I vetoed that. "I don't want us to be caught riding around in a stolen vehicle."

"Who said anything about stealing?"

"This will have to do," I decided. "Let's get it loaded up."

He checked his watch. "And hurry."

We loaded the supplies from Michael's car into the truck, debating whether or not to go to the farm for a ladder. We decided against it. Afterwards, I took a sip of Emma's drink to quench my thirst and realized it was vodka.

"Maybe you ought to drive," I said to Michael.

But Emma took the glass and climbed into the cab. "I know the way. Let's go."

It was dark by the time we got to the Cooper estate. We went by the driveway once, all three of us peering down the lane to see if we could catch a glimpse of the house through the trees. Unfortunately, all the autumn leaves hadn't fallen yet, so we couldn't see more than a tiny light winking at us in the distance.

"Park here?" Emma asked, slowing down.

"Maybe in the woods," I suggested.

"If I tear the muffler off this sucker, Nora, it's your bill." Emma aimed the pickup at a heavily foliaged bank.

I checked my watch again. "We wanted to get transportation from an owner with an alibi. Is he
going to get suspicious if we don't come back right away?"

"It's okay. He can't get out of bed."

"I have a feeling," said Michael, bracing himself against the dashboard, "that we don't want to know why."

"Handcuffs," said Emma, focused, on driving. "Hang on!"

The truck bumped over something big, bouncing us against the restraints of our seat belts. Emma changed gears and rammed the truck up the slope. We narrowly cut between two trees and thumped over a fallen log. The headlights stabbed into a huge pine, and Emma yanked the wheel to avoid slamming straight into it.

My little sister gunned the engine, threw the truck into yet another gear before charging through the woods at a breathtaking rate of speed. Pine branches swiped past the windows, the tires bounced over rocks, and something loud crunched beneath us. Emma kept her foot hard on the accelerator, and both hands fought the wheel as we roared deeper into the woods.

Finally she jammed on the brakes, and the truck rocked to a halt inches from a creek bed. The three of us looked over the hood at the rushing water a few feet below.

"Hold up," Michael said. "Let me check the territory."

He unfastened his seat belt, opened the passenger door and slid out.

"This is fun," Emma said.

I said, "Handcuffs, for crying out loud." But I was thinking about the vodka.

Michael returned. "Leave the truck here. The rest of the way we'll go on foot."

We got out and joined Michael under the trees in the cool night air. Clouds were scudding overhead, occasionally obscuring the moon, but I could see well enough to walk without risk of breaking a leg. I worried about Emma, though, who didn't need another injury. She looked perfectly sober, but I couldn't guess how much she'd had to drink.

Michael strapped a tool belt around his hips. "Ready?"

"This way," I said, hoping I could remember the lay of the land as I had observed it on the night of Oliver Cooper's party.

We hiked about half a mile through the tangled forest—following the flicker of lights ahead. Emma muttered about poison ivy. Michael leaped lightly over a small stream. I jumped after him and landed on dry ground, but Emma stumbled into the water. She climbed out cursing, but unharmed. We reached the perimeter of the landscaped property in less than fifteen minutes. When we hunkered down behind a fragrant pine tree, I reached for the bird-watching binoculars I wore around my neck. They had belonged to Grandmama Blackbird, who used them at the opera. I scanned the house.

"Stay down," Michael warned quietly. "Don't move more than necessary. The security system is still functioning."

"How are we going to fix that?" Emma whispered. "They've probably got lasers and a SWAT team that comes by helicopter."

"Don't worry."

"If you say so." She sounded doubtful.

We stayed quiet. The night was cool, very still, very October. Beside me, Michael and Emma squinted at the house for signs of human habitation.

I swept the property with the binoculars. I could
make out the shapes of topiary bushes and Doe's overdone flower beds. At last, I trained the lenses on the airstrip at the far end of the property. "I see a bunch of parked cars. All the planes are gone."

Emma asked, "They've all gone to the funeral in South Carolina?"

"That's what we're hoping." Michael eased up beside me. "Lights in the house?"

"Lots turned on, but that doesn't mean anything."

Emma asked, "Do they have dogs?"

"I didn't see any dogs when I was here before. And Doe's allergic to just about everything."

"Okay," said Michael. "Let's find out if there's anybody in the house. First we try the telephone. Did you get the number?"

We had discussed this earlier. I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket.

He dialed. From inside the house, we could hear a faint telephone ring.

"No answer," Michael reported after several moments.

"Try the staff phone," I said. "It's the second number."

He consulted the paper and dialed again. We didn't hear a corresponding sound from the house, but Michael sent me a look that meant it was ringing somewhere.

"I think we're okay." He terminated the call. "Now, about the security system."

The three of us crouched silently behind the tree, all eyes trained on the house before us. Michael had a gadget in his hand. The moonlight faded at that moment, and I couldn't see what he was holding. Emma and I leaned closer. Emma's knee landed on a fallen branch, and it snapped, sounding like a gunshot.

We froze. Silence.

Then a sharp noise sounded behind us.

We hit the ground at once. I tasted dirt and felt Michael's hand tense on my arm. On my other side, Emma didn't move.

More silence.

"What was that?" Emma whispered at last.

"I don't know." Michael risked a peek. "It's too dark to see anything."

"This is starting to feel scary."

"You?" Michael asked her. "Scared of something?"

"Let's crawl around to the other side of this tree," I whispered.

Emma went first, slithering on her stomach. Michael went next, silent as a ghost.

But I heard the noise behind me again and stayed where I was.

The snap sounded again. And again. Footsteps.

Coming from behind me. Going slowly, as if stalking prey. I tried not to breathe. Had we managed to trigger an alarm already?

Suddenly a light blazed in my face. I yelped as if I'd been hit.

A voice above me demanded, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Chapter 16

Behind the light, I could make out an enormous figure.

A familiar figure.

"Libby!" I exclaimed. "Someday I'm going to murder you!"

"What are you guys doing?" she demanded, shining the light on Emma and Michael. "I followed you the whole way from New Hope! What's going on? How come you didn't tell me you were going on a picnic?"

Emma cursed. Michael rolled over onto his back and started to laugh.

I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the flashlight from Libby. "Dammit, you shouldn't be running around in the dark like this! You could have fallen!"

"I already did." Libby sat down heavily, breathing hard. "I had to park on the road, and I couldn't keep up with you. I thought you were coming only a short way, but—does anybody have a diet Coke? I'm really thirsty."

"Gee, that's one thing we forgot." I flicked off the light. "What was I thinking?"

"What's going on?" Libby asked. She put her hand on her gigantic belly, but the gesture looked as hopeless as a single finger holding back a deluge from the Hoover Dam. "Where are we, anyway? Whose
house is that? Is this one of your parties? You're in a costume! It's very flattering, Nora. Are you two the Spice Girls? Why are you waiting out here in the dark? Maybe they have some diet Coke at the party."

"Libby, you shouldn't be here."

"Why not?"

"Because you're a pregnant woman, and this is the middle of the woods. How are we supposed to get you back to your car?"

"I can walk perfectly well." She was still having difficulty catching her breath. "Trouble is, I think I dropped my keys somewhere. I slipped, you see, and they—"

Michael said, "We're on a tight schedule here."

"I know," I said.

"What?" Libby asked. "Am I bothering you? I'm not invited, is that it?"

"No, Libby—"

"Well, I certainly don't mean to spoil anyone's fun." She began to get huffy. "I'm only here because I happened to pass you in traffic on my way back from PTA, and I thought I'd join you for a few minutes. I'm going to have a baby soon, you know, and after that, nobody in their right mind will come see me. I'll be in total seclusion for months."

"Libby, we're not here for a
party."

"What, then?"

Emma said, "We're breaking into Oliver Cooper's house."

Michael sighed. "This is a mistake."

"You're what?" Libby looked prettily thunderstruck. "Why?"

Michael said, "The more people who know, the worse this will get."

"Well, she's already here," I said. "I can't make her disappear in a puff of smoke."

He eyed her belly. "I guess not."

Emma said, "Isn't there a magician who makes elephants disappear?"

Libby's brows snapped down. "Are you making a remark about my size?"

"David Copperfield or somebody like that."

"Oh, he's so handsome," Libby said. "Don't you think so, Nora?"

Michael lay back down on the ground and looked up at the sky.

"Libby," I said, "I really wish you hadn't come. But since you did, I'm going to ask you very nicely to please stay right here while we do something we shouldn't do."

"Why can't I come? I'm dying to see the inside of the Cooper house. I hear Doe did some hilariously bad decorating."

Michael said, "Time's up. I gotta do this now, or we're screwed."

"Go ahead," I said.

"What's he doing?"

"Deactivating the security system," Emma said.

Michael lifted a gadget in his hand. We leaned closer to see what it was. A small digital screen glowed eerily green. Then it began to beep quietly.

"What are you doing?" Emma whispered finally.

"Making a phone call," said Michael.

"It's a cell phone!" I said. "Good grief, we thought you had some master criminal technical device—"

"Shhh," said Michael. Then, into the phone, "Skeet? Yeah, it's me. Shut it off."

And he closed the phone.

"That's it?" I asked. "Your plan for deactivating the security system?"

"What's wrong with it? It works."

"What did you do?" Emma asked.

Michael shrugged. "Guy owed me a favor. He works at the security company, so I asked him to turn it off for an hour. This is our only chance, ladies. So let's get going."

"Okay. Libby, stay here."

"I don't want to be left alone."

"You just trekked through the woods by yourself!" I cried. "What's wrong with staying here for a few minutes?"

"I don't feel very well," she said, petulant.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, for godsake," Emma said. "This will take all night! Just let her come along and she can sit on the patio while we go inside."

Michael and I looked at each other.

He shrugged. "You're the boss."

"All right. Let's go."

Staying behind a long line of Halloween cornstalks, we crept closer to the house and eventually hid behind a garden statue that was lit from below—the figure of a voluptuous woman wearing a fruit basket on her head and sporting breasts that the most ambitious Las Vegas plastic surgeon would have refused to implant. If not for the weight of her ample hips, the whole top-heavy statue would have fallen facedown in the mums.