Blackbird 07 - Murder Melts in Your Mouth by Nancy Martin

Author:Nancy Martin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
ISBN: 9780451224408
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2010-01-09T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

My whole family sat very still around the kitchen table, their hands laid flat on the tablecloth. They stared in silent horror as the gunman snaked his arm around me from behind and grabbed my shoulder. He pressed the cold barrel of the gun into my cheek, and my heart stopped.

He said, “Don’t say a word.”

I said, “My nephew’s outside. He’s coming right behind me. Don’t hurt him.”

“Didn’t I say not to talk?”

“Sorry. I wasn’t—sorry. Just don’t hurt my nephew.”

He gave me a push, and I stumbled away from him. I caught my balance on the kitchen counter and turned around.

The man with the gun was Tierney Cavendish.

He had sweated through his white shirt, and his grip on the gun didn’t look very steady as he pointed it at me. His long dark hair hung in damp strands around his face. He wasn’t handsome anymore. He looked desperate.

He said, “Shut up. Don’t talk. Let the kid come inside and I won’t hurt him.”

A second later, Rawlins be-bopped through the door. Tierney caught him with the same maneuver he’d used on me, only Rawlins was smart enough to obey and didn’t make a sound. With the gun jammed to his throat, my nephew dropped his backpack on the floor and stared at me with wide, frightened eyes.

I said, “It’s okay. Don’t panic.”

Tierney goaded Rawlins forward. “Sit down at the table, everybody. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Mama and Daddy sat very still beside each other. In the chair at the head of the table perched their valet, Oscar. At the other end was Henry Fineman, the computer repairman. Between them, Lucy glowered.

“Where’s Maximus?” I said. “Where’s the baby?”

“Sleeping,” Mama said. “Finally. He missed his nap and got a little cranky. I put him down half an hour ago.”

“He was very bad,” Lucy said. “He wouldn’t stop crying.”

“We couldn’t find his binky,” Henry volunteered.

Rawlins said, “I left it on the counter by the coffeepot.”

Lucy said, “I didn’t go near it. I’m not allowed to drink coffee.”

Patronizingly, Henry said, “Coffee is bad for little girls.”

Lucy stuck her tongue out at him.

Oscar said, “This man is pointing his gun at us again.”

“Shut up.” Tierney quaked as he waved the gun first at one person, then another. He looked exhausted and angry. “All of you. Be quiet so I can think. Why there’s a whole French farce going on, I don’t understand. I thought only you lived here.”

He had pointed the gun at me again, so I said, “Normally, it’s just me. You caught us at a bad time.”

“Sit down,” he commanded.

“There aren’t enough chairs,” Rawlins pointed out.

“I’ll stand,” I said.

I tried to think of all the hostage situations I’d ever seen on television. Unfortunately, the only ones I could recall were those that ended in a shoot-out or with the cavalry charging through the back door. A few psychological tactics swirled vaguely around in my head. I wondered if my father really did have any marijuana.

I cleared my throat. “Would anyone like some lemonade?”

“We’ve had lemonade,” Mama said.

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