Death & the Brewmaster's Widow (21 page)

Lightheaded and desperate for air, he toed off his sneakers and let them drop into the mud, then concentrated on not breathing before his face broke the water's surface.

His instincts were screaming at him to get the hell away from the
Zaca
. He expected the propellers to come to life at any second. That was why Gregory had put Alaina at the helm. It would be more convincing to the authorities. She was an inexperienced pilot. She panicked. She didn't know what to do and she was only trying to help.

Death was disoriented, though, confused by the water's agitation and his own hypoxia, and he couldn't be certain where the boat was.

He surfaced half a dozen yards from her starboard side. The current was taking them both downstream, him and the pontoon boat, but the slower stream he had gone through under the surface had left him closer to the back of the boat and the deadly outboard motor. He coughed and spluttered, on the verge of blacking out. Something moved in the water near him.
Jaws
, Death thought.
Damn
.

Then a pair of strong arms came around him and a familiar voice said, “Relax. I got this.”

He whipped his head around, trying to see behind himself.

“Randy?”

“No, I'm the Little Mermaid. Stop it! Don't fight me.”

Death choked on a sob. “Randy.”

“Hush. It's okay.
I got this
.”

_____

“Get the helm,” Gregory hissed. “Rev the engine, like I told you.
Quickly! Do it!”

Alaina ran for the helm, crying and already hysterical.

All the better to convince the authorities
, Gregory thought. In his head he was already rehearsing what he would say to the police.
I was trying to catch him. I'd been concerned about him already, you know. He'd just started a course of antidepressants, and suicide is always a danger. I thought it would help if he could see where his brother was buried. Find some closure. But he was so distraught, and then the railing gave way
…

A second official craft was closing in from behind and there were two more coming upriver, heading in their direction. Dark water reflected flashing red and blue emergency lights and sirens reverberated through the river valley. Alaina reached for the throttle. She was almost touching it when she shrieked in pain and staggered away holding her nose. Blood streamed down her face.

The first official craft Gregory saw was a fire boat, not a police boat, coasting up alongside the
Zaca
. A small, redheaded woman stood braced against the railing. She held a slingshot, stone at the ready, and addressed Alaina in a hard voice. “The nice fireman said not to touch the throttle. Keep your hands off the throttle, bitch.”

The firefighter who was holding the megaphone dropped it and moved to the side of the boat, swiftly and expertly tethering the two crafts together. By the time he'd finished, a water patrol crew was making their own boat fast on the other side. The first cop to board them spun Gregory around, pushed him up against the bar, and slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. “James Gregory, you're under arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder.”

“Kidnapping? Murder? Why, I don't know what you're talking about! He was suicidal. He jumped. I tried to stop him!”

Behind him, a second officer was arresting his sister. He cuffed her hands in back, careful to avoid the blood streaming from her nose, and read her the Miranda warning. Two of the firefighters had also boarded the
Zaca
, carrying equipment and trailed by the anxious redhead.

One of them, a pale, blonde female, grabbed the
Zaca's
life preserver, stepped on the loose end of the throw rope, and tossed the ring into the river. She was holding the rope in her left hand and she let it play out completely, then took it in both hands and pulled it back in a few feet. “Bogie? The buoy's just behind you. Can you get it?”

Gregory, pushed down into a seat and sandwiched between two burly officers, watched with a sick fascination as the line went taut. The second firefighter joined the first on the line as they reeled it in. Then they were pulling the ex-Marine, dripping and exhausted, from the river onto the pontoon boat's swimming deck. When he was safe, the blonde reached down. A second hand came up to meet hers and Baranduin Bogart climbed aboard after his brother.

He pulled himself to his full height and spared the siblings a brief, withering glare. In that moment, Gregory reflected, he really didn't look like Andrew Grey at all. Alaina, apparently, didn't share that sentiment.

“Andrew? Andrew! Oh my God! Jamie, it's Andrew!”

“It's not Andrew. Shut up!”

“It
is
Andrew. He was in the water! He could have been killed!” She was leaning toward him now, straining against the officer holding her back. The exertion had restarted her nosebleed and she was screaming at him, gory and vengeful. “Did you know he was in the water? You promised me we were only going to kill his brother!
Did you know
?”

The cop to Gregory's left leaned down, clasped his shoulder, and grinned insufferably.

“You do know we already read her the Miranda warning, right?”

_____

With a helping hand from Yering, Death sat up. Talia was leaning over him, stethoscope at the ready. Randy snatched it away from her, put the earpieces in his own ears, and set the scope on Death's back. “Can you take a deep breath for me? Wren said your lungs are damaged. How much of that river did you swallow? Did you breathe in any?”

Death batted the instrument away, grabbed his little brother, and pulled him into a fierce hug. After a few seconds, Randy gave in and returned it. The baby of the family, he always tried extra hard to come off as a tough guy. Death didn't care. He was crying openly and, when he finally spoke, there were tears in Randy's voice too. “You big, dumb, jarhead. I told you to keep your stupid head down. I
told
you!”

It was Randy who finally pulled away, taking up the stethoscope again and putting it back in his ears.

“Seriously, man, you gotta let me check you over. We're gonna take you in for chest X-rays and they'll probably want to keep you overnight. In fact, I'm gonna insist they do—”

“No.” Death pushed his brother away and climbed clumsily to his feet. “Hell no. I don't need to go see a doctor. I'm fine.”

“You're fine when I say you're fine.”

“I'm the big brother. You are not the boss of me.”

“That's just stupid.”

“Anyway,” Death said, “if anyone needs to go to the emergency room, it's you.”

“Me? I'm fine!”

“You don't look fine. You're pale and you've lost weight. God only knows what those two have been doing to you.”

“Nothing,” Randy said. “I'm fine. I'm not going to any ER. I just want to go home, put on my own clothes, and be
me
for awhile.”

Wren suddenly gasped in dismay.

“Oh, Randy! I'm sorry. I'm
so
sorry!”

They both turned to look at her. She had one hand to her mouth and her cheeks were as red as her hair. “Sorry?” Randy said. “What have you done to be sorry about?”

She blushed even harder, gave a tiny shrug, and admitted, “I threw away all your underwear.”

epilogue

“I even undressed him.
I undressed him and I still thought he was you!”

“Well, was he hot? 'Cause if he was a
hot
dead guy, I can understand you thinking that.”

Death cuffed his little brother on the back of the head as he dropped down next to him at the picnic table. “Be nice. Sophie helped us save your sorry butt.”

“Careful!” Randy rubbed his head. “You could give me brain damage.”

“Can't damage what you don't have.”

The celebration in Rowdy and Annie Tanner's backyard was joyous though tinged, for the firefighters, with regret. Randy was alive and that was the main thing, but he was also leaving. “Since the last time I saw this moron,” he'd said, throwing an arm around Death's shoulders, “he's been ambushed, blown up, buried alive, shot at, kidnapped and threatened at knifepoint, kidnapped again, beaten up, threatened at knifepoint
again
, then
shot at
again, and almost drowned. Clearly he needs to be under the supervision of a responsible adult.”

“And where do you come in?” Rowdy shot back.

“He's gonna help me look for a responsible adult,” Death grinned.

Randy would have to pass a refresher course to get his paramedic certification restored, but he already had a job lined up as an airborne medic with the Rives County Life Flight service, and he'd been accepted as a member of the East Bledsoe Ferry Volunteer Fire Department. Wren, with her local connections, had helped to smooth his way. They both understood that, while finding Randy alive had helped immensely, Death was still struggling in ways that were not going to be fixed overnight. Together, they would provide him with the support system that he needed so badly and had gone so long without.

“Are you going to sell your house?” Cap asked.

“No, not planning to. Not anytime soon. I'm only moving a few hundred miles away. I will be back to visit from time to time. I'd like to have a place to stay when I do.”

Trinka, Talia's girlfriend, bounced out of the house with a pan held in hot pads. “Look! I made cornbread!”

Talia gave her a dubious look. “You? Made cornbread?”

Trinka laughed merrily. “Well, okay, technically Annie made it. But I cut it. That's practically the same thing.” She set it on the table.

“Wouldn't you guys love to have seen Leilani's face when she found out Alaina tried to cheat her out of her inheritance?”

“Yeah, that's a funny thing,” Death said. He snagged a piece of the hot cornbread and glanced around at his audience with a faint grin. “We talked to the lawyer. Seems that will Andrew showed the wives was just for show.”

“It wasn't real?” Annie asked.

“The Einstadt fortune is all tied up in trust funds. Andrew had access to the interest and a percentage of the profits from business holdings while he was alive, but very little wealth that was actually at his disposal after he died. The estate will pass to his children now. There were provisions for supporting a childless widow, but whoever drew up the legal papers—Aram Einstadt probably—was as concerned about the family name as he was the family fortune. The one thing that could get anyone disinherited was being convicted of a felony. Instead of securing her fortune, Alaina's killed the golden goose.” They were still laughing about it when a horn drew their attention and everyone turned to find a gold station wagon pulling into the yard.

“Oh, look!” Wren said. “It's the Keystones!”

“All of them?” Death asked.

“Looks like just the twins and their wives.” She got up and ran to meet them.

“This is the family Wren works for,” Death told Randy. “You're gonna love these people.” They stood up to meet them as Wren brought them over. “This is Roy and Sam,” Death introduced them. “And their lovely wives, Leona and Doris.”

“You're such a charmer,” Doris said, kissing his cheek.

Roy and Sam shook hands with Randy.

“I've heard of some weird things running in families,” Roy said, “but being mistaken for dead is a new one.”

“But we're so glad you're okay and home where you belong now!” Leona gushed. She caught Randy in a fierce hug. “Quick, sweetie, tell me. What's your brother's middle name?”

“Randy,” Death growled warningly.

Randy cocked his head and considered. “What's in it for me?”

“Don't you do it!”

“Pie. Homemade pie.”

“What kind of pie?”

“Pecan.”

“Randy!”

“With whipped topping?”

“I'm warning you.”

“With whipped
cream
.
Real
whipped cream. And homemade ice cream.”

“Dúnadan,” Randy said swiftly. “What flavor ice cream?”

“Dúnadan! From
Lord of the Rings
!” Wren smiled and clasped her hands together. “That's perfect!”

Leona patted Randy's cheek. “Any flavor you want, sweetie.”

“Randy, how could you?” Death asked, betrayed and tragic.

“It's not my fault. She offered me
pie
.”

“You're a slut.”

“Yeah. But I'm a slut—with pie.”

Rowdy and one of the younger firefighters dragged another bench over so there'd be room for the Keystones at the table. “We apologize for crashing your party,” Sam said.

“Not at all,” Rowdy told him. “I'm glad you could make it.”

“Well, our work got put on hold and we were all dying to meet Death's brother so we thought we'd take a day trip.” He addressed Wren. “You're going to like this job, Wren, when we can get back to it. The old Hadleigh Plantation is going to auction.”

“The Haunted Hadleigh House?” She asked, excited. She turned to the others to explain. “It's an old plantation with a lot of weird stories and legends attached.”

“Some weirder and more attached than others,” Roy said. “The hot topic right now is The Vengeance Trail.”

“Sounds spooky!” Annie commented. “What's The Vengeance Trail?”

“It's a trail that runs across the Plantation and a legend from the Civil War,” Wren said. “They say a soldier—some versions say Union and some say Confederate—killed an old man and stole his horse. That night, when it was too dark to see and the soldier was ready to stop for the night, the horse suddenly bolted down The Vengeance Trail. He ran under a tree with a low-hanging branch, killing the soldier and avenging his master's death. Now, on nights of the new moon, they say you can still hear the horse's pounding hoofs and the soldier shouting at him to ‘whoa!'”

“Creepy,” Death agreed. “But why is that a hot topic right now?”

“Because,” Roy said, “yesterday morning some hikers found a body on The Vengeance Trail. He was lying under a low-hanging branch and his neck was broken. They haven't identified the body yet, but he was wearing an apparently authentic Confederate Cavalry uniform. The only tracks besides the hikers' footprints were the hoof marks of a running horse.”

the end