“Put the gun down,” Simon ordered.
“No.” Marcella raised the pistol.
Lyra grabbed the silver corkscrew off the shelf of the liquor cabinet. She swung around and stabbed with all of her strength. She did not have time to aim. The tip of the steel screw speared through the fabric of Marcella’s blouse and into the soft flesh of her upper shoulder.
Marcella yelled and staggered back a couple of frantic steps. Lyra kept her grip on the handle of the corkscrew, pulling it free of Marcella’s shoulder. Blood flowed, saturating the blouse.
“The grenade,” Marcella gasped, wild-eyed.“The grenade.”
“Isn’t live,” Simon said. He snapped the gun out of Marcella’s slackened grasp. “I find it useful as a distraction from time to time. It’s amazing how people panic when a grenade lands in front of them.”
Luther emerged from the foyer. “Especially those who were in the war.”
Irene and Oliver Ward followed Luther into the living room. Irene yanked a notebook and a pencil out of her handbag.
Marcella looked at Lyra. “You stupid amateur. You ruined everything.”
“Beginner’s luck,” Lyra said.
Chapter 48
Raina put the phone down and looked at Lyra. “That was the doctor. He said that, barring serious infection, Marcella Adlington will be fine.”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that,” Lyra said.
They were in the office of Kirk Investigations, just the two of them. Simon was with Luther in Luther’s private quarters above the Paradise Club. They were composing a carefully worded report for the FBI and a certain clandestine government agency.
In the end everyone had concluded that the only thing that required an explanation was the kidnapping of Raina. Luther had decreed that they would stick with the simplest story—the kidnappers had believed he could be persuaded to pay the ransom. Instead, he and some of his associates had organized a rescue mission. There was no need to mention Raina’s connection to the now-defunct firm of Enright & Enright.
Lyra slumped against the back of her desk chair and blew out a sigh. She had spent another sleepless night wondering if dawn wouldbring the news that Marcella Adlington had died of her wound. Now that it looked like Adlington would live, there was another, possibly bigger problem.
“What happens if Marcella talks?” she said. “She might tell the police that she suspects you were, uh, responsible for Graham Enright’s death.”
“She has absolutely no proof,” Raina said. “And why would anyone take the word of a former spy who worked for a hostile power in the Great War over that of an innocent secretary who was on vacation when her boss died? Trust me, Luther will take care of any problems from that direction.”
“Good point,” Lyra said.
“Don’t worry, no one questioned Enright’s death at the time. By then his only son was dead in a car crash. There was no other close family. His estate went to distant relatives who certainly won’t want anyone to open up an investigation that might bring other would-be heirs out of the woodwork.”
“I don’t see any way they can connect her to the so-called drug ring that was operating out of the Labyrinth Springs resort, either,” Lyra said. “That doesn’t leave much except attempted murder.”
“Which is enough to ensure that she does prison time,” Raina said. “However, I doubt it will come to that. Luther is going to see to it that she is turned over to the FBI. The Bureau will want to question her about her previous career as a spy. There will be a lot of juicy headlines in the press. When all is said and done she will be notorious. That is not a particularly useful status for a professional spy or a socialite.”
Encouraged, Lyra sat forward. “I wonder what will happen to her?”
There was a short silence from the other desk.
“You seem to be a woman of boundless curiosity,” Raina said.
“Character flaw.”
“In view of that particular flaw I can’t help but notice that you haven’t asked me if Marcella Adlington’s assumptions concerning Graham Enright’s death are right.”
“You mean, I haven’t asked you if you killed your old boss? Nope.”
“Why not?”
“If you did give him the cyanide, you did what you had to do to save yourself. The same reason I used the golf club on Charles Adlington.”
