Darkness Before the Dawn (Maggie Bennett 2)

“I’m thirsty, Kate. Don’t be such a bloody bitch.”

“No.”

He glared at the two of them. “I’ll get it myself. I used to live here, remember?” And he started for the kitchen.

two

Maggie considered a flying tackle, then rejected the notion. Brian didn’t need any encouragement—he was already slightly suspicious. But there was no way she could keep him out of the kitchen, short of brute force.

Kate cast her a panicked, beseeching look. “Do something!” she hissed. “Brian likes lots of ice!”

“Damn.” Maggie raced after her ex-brother-in-law. Kate was close on her heels.

Brian was at the sink—the sink that still bore traces of the milk and juice hastily dumped from the emptied refrigerator. He was drawing a glass of water. Maggie breathed a sigh of relief—one that strangled in midbreath as he turned and headed directly for the refrigerator.

Kate made a muffled sound of anguish as Brian shoved the glass into the outside compartment that set the ice machine in motion. Three cubes plopped into his glass—each one was a death knell. Then he gestured toward the chair holding the refrigerator door closed. “What’s wrong with the door?”

“The gasket is broken,” Maggie said swiftly. Kate stood in mute panic. “The door swings open and everything gets frosted. Don’t worry about it, Brian—the repairman’s coming tomorrow.”

“I would have thought that a wonder like you could fix anything,” he drawled. Maggie stared at him stonily. Maybe he’d fit in the freezer.

“I don’t claim to be perfect, Brian,” she said. “But I do happen to possess an ordinary amount of sensitivity, unlike you. You aren’t wanted here. You’ve started a vicious custody suit against my sister, one that will do nothing but hurt your child, and you don’t give a damn. You show up here expecting to be welcomed with open arms, and then you act insulted when you’re told to get out. I’ll tell you again, Brian. Out of here!”

“You always were a cold bitch,” he said.

Of course, I might have to cut him up in small pieces to get him into the freezer, she thought, and then she mentally slapped herself. Such wistful fantasies were a waste of time. “Get out!”

“I’m not leaving until my ex-wife tells me to. Even if you can’t fix something as simple as a refrigerator door, I’m not so poor a specimen. You know I’ve always been good at fixing things, Kate.” And he reached for the chair.

For a moment Maggie thought Kate might faint. Her brown eyes blinked and her face blanched, but then she suddenly stiffened. “Get your goddamn hands off my chair!” she roared. “Get out of my kitchen, get out of my apartment, and get out of my life! You walked out on me when Chrissie was two weeks old and remarried by the time she was three months. You’ve severed any rights you had to our life. Get out, and do it fast, or in another moment I’ll start screaming!”

Maggie knew the origin of the ragged edge of hysteria in Kate’s voice. Brian was mystified but totally convinced. He slammed the glass of water down onto the kitchen table and stormed from the room. His elegant back radiated rage and disapproval. They heard the door slam all the way back into the kitchen.

Maggie met Kate’s eyes.

“I would have screamed,” Kate confessed in a whisper. “And I don’t know if I would have stopped.”

“I was busy fantasizing about putting the bastard in the freezer,” Maggie confessed.

Kate stared at her in shock. And then a reluctant, nervous giggle escaped her. “He would have deserved it more than poor Francis.”

“Poor Francis? I thought you threatened to kill him a few hours ago.”

“A figure of speech.” Kate dismissed it. “Caleb had gotten me riled up over something, and Francis took the brunt of it. Francis and I have always gotten along beautifully. But I wouldn’t have minded if it were Caleb in my bathtub. He’s been driving me crazy.” She took a deep, calming breath. “However, I suppose we’re lucky it was Francis. Caleb’s about a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier. I don’t think he’d fit in the refrigerator.”

“Thank heaven for small favors,” Maggie said faintly. “So who’s Caleb and why is he driving you crazy?”

“Caleb McAllister is in charge of finances at the studio,” she said with a certain evasiveness. “I’m production, and Francis was creativity. Caleb had been hassling me about some discrepancies in one of Francis’s budgets. So I confronted Francis, and he was damnably vague. He was covering something up, I know he was. But when I tried to find out what it was, he just gave me that snooty little look of his.” She shook her head ruefully. “I can’t even remember which movie caused all the fuss. Probably one of his pseudo-Star Wars epics.”

“I think you’d better try to remember,” Maggie said. “We’re going to have to figure out who killed Francis and who brought him here, and we’re going to have to do it soon.”

Kate stared at her. “Did you mean to put it in that order? You said ‘killed Francis’ and then ‘brought him here.’ Wasn’t he killed in my bathtub?”

“I don’t think so. I think he was killed someplace else and moved here. He didn’t bleed much, but there wasn’t a trace of blood in the tub. And his limbs were—”

“Maggie,” Kate said in a dangerous voice, “I don’t have anything left to throw up. I’ll take your word for it.”

“And I don’t think we have any alternative,” Maggie continued.