“I won’t go to prison. God, I’m going to get you. I played with you for six months. I should have strangled you.”
“Just try it, you old bastard.” She smiled down at him, lifted her foot, and landed it square in his groin He screamed, clutching himself “Well done, Sally,” Quinlan said. “You sure you don’t want to shoot him?”
There was a shot from upstairs.
32
QUINLAN STRUCK AMORY St. John hard on his jaw.
One down, he thought, as St. John’s head lolled to the side. They had only one weapon-Quinlan’s gun, taken off old Purn Davies, the one that Quinlan had pressed to Amory St. John’s temple.
When Thomas had gone upstairs unarmed, Sally hadn’t thought, hadn’t imagined that her aunt could shoot someone.
Suddenly Corey moved like lightning, throwing herself into the shadowed recess just to the side at the base of the stairs.
They watched in silence as Thomas, his arm bleeding rivulets through his fingers, came down the stairs, Amabel behind him with a pistol to the back of his head.
“Throw that gun toward the living room, Mr. Quinlan.”
Instead, Quinlan slid it across the highly polished oak floor right toward the spot where Corey was crouched.
“You don’t have such a good aim, do you? No matter. Now, move away from him. That’s right. Go stand by
Sally.
“You, sir, keep moving or I’ll shoot you in the back of your neck. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”
“No,” Thomas said, sounding dazed, “1 wouldn’t like that at all.”
“You’re bleeding all over my floor. Well, who cares? I doubt we’ll ever come back here anyway. Now, Mr. Quinlan, you and Sally just take two more steps back. Good. Don’t try anything. You’re always bragging about FBI agents, but this one’s just like you, Mr. Quinlan, he’s just a man. Look at all that blood-and it’s only a little wound in his arm. He’s not whining, I’ll say that for him. Now don’t move.” She looked down. “Amory, you can get up now.”
There wasn’t a sound from Amory.
“Amory!”
She waved the gun and screamed at Quinlan, ‘-‘What did you do to him, you bastard?”
“I coldcocked him, Amabel. Real hard. I don’t think he’ll be coming around anytime soon.”
“I should shoot you right now. You’ve been a pain ever since you set foot in this town, ever since you first saw Sally. No, Sally, just keep your mouth shut. My future is with him, and I intend to have it. I know the town will fall, but I won’t. No one will catch us, not even your precious FBI.”
She shoved Thomas to the bottom step. She must have sensed something because she quickly moved back up two steps. “You try to turn on me, boy, and I’ll blow your head off.”
“No, ma’am,” Thomas said. “I won’t do anything. Can I go on down and let Quinlan wrap a handkerchief around my arm? I don’t want to bleed to death. I don’t want to ruin your pretty floor and carpets.”
“Go on, but try anything and you’re dead.”
Thomas was pale, his mouth drawn thin with pain. He was holding his arm tightly. Blood still dripped slowly between his fingers.
“Come here, Thomas,” Quinlan said, motioning him forward with his hand. “You got a handkerchief?”
“Yeah, in my right coat pocket.”
Quinlan pulled out a spiffy blue handkerchief with the initials TS in the corner and tied up his arm. “That should do it. Too bad you guys killed Doc Spiver, Amabel. Thomas could use his services right about now.”
She had to come down those three remaining steps. She had to. Just three steps. Come on, Amabel, come on.
Sally said suddenly, her voice loud with shock. “There’s blood coming from his mouth.” She was pointing wildly at Amory St. John. “And something white, oh, my God, I think it’s foam. He’s foaming!”
“What?” Amabel came down the last three stairs, slowly, trying to keep her attention on the two agents and Sally and see what was wrong with Amory. “All of you, bunch together, there. Sit on the floor. Now.”
They all sat.
Just a bit further, Quinlan said to her silently. Just a bit further. He saw Corey poised in the shadows, his SIG-sauer at the ready in her hand.