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Something was very wrong, Robin was sure, and then she saw it. The glint of a knife, a long slim knife grasped in the redhead’s chubby hand, poised and ready to strike the unsuspecting woman on the bed.
“Zelda no!” Robin shouted. She leaped inside the room, racing for Zelda’s outstretched, knife wielding hand. As she reached the side of the bed, Zelda’s eyes suddenly turned, fixed intently on her. With her free hand raised, Zelda delivered one powerful punch that landed across Robin’s face, throwing the detective off balance and knocking her against the far wall. Robin was in the corner on the wings of strength she never imagined from the diminutive woman. Falling hard against the wall, Robin banged her head, and slumped to the floor, momentarily too dazed to get up. All she could think was, how can I get up, I’ve got to get up, but her body wouldn’t move.
Focused on just one thing at a time, Zelda’s concentration immediately returned to Martha. Th
e bound woman, who had been moaning so lustily, waiting for another blow of the lovely whip, waiting to go deeper still into her erotic ecstasy, opened her eyes at the sound of the commotion. She looked up at Zelda and her gaze abruptly froze, fixed in horror on the glint of the knife poised high above her body.
Leslie, having followed Robin to the far side of the room, grabbed for Zelda’s arm and turned the woman around on a dime. Zelda yelled something unintelligible, interrupted in her task, and the knife dropped from the redhead’s hand clattering against the floor. Zelda lunged for the weapon, landing hard against the wood floor.
“No, you don’t!” Leslie screamed and she covered Zelda’s falling body with her own.
Zelda’s outstretched hand reached for the knife. Finding it, she held the handle in her fist, clutching it with every bit of strength she had. With Leslie’s body weight on her, she could hardly breathe and her gasps for air became desperate, as Leslie struggled to keep her down and take the knife from her at the same time.
Zelda was mad, insanely mad. The knife flailing about her. She had to find the target, she had to find the flesh, she had to find that soft tender giving flesh in which to sink the blade. Such a pretty polished blade, so bright and glaring, harsh, very harsh. If only she could complete her task, take the woman away with her. Her mind was sinking, going somewhere far, far away. It was difficult to breathe, every breath heavier still, heavier still. She could hardly breathe at all, but she couldn’t stop. No, never, she couldn’t stop until it was finished. She had to finish her task, she had to take the woman away with her… yes, take the woman away with her, this would be the last time, the very last time …
Leslie almost had the knife in her hand. She reached, but she couldn’t grasp it. The angle was all wrong; she struggled to get closer, but she couldn’t allow Zelda to escape. She held down one flailing arm, but not the one she wanted. She had to reach farther, just an inch farther.
Suddenly, Jane appeared at Leslie’s side, diving for Zelda’s flailing wrist, clutching it so the pinned woman couldn’t move it, or the knife. “Drop it, Zelda,” she said quietly. The crazy woman wouldn’t let go. She hadn’t even heard the quiet command. Then, all of sudden, the knife was gone, wrenched abruptly by Jane’s sure fingers.
The redhead went limp under the weight of Leslie’s body. The knife gone, it must have hit home, it must have found flesh, it must be over, Zelda thought… it must be over now, no more sense in breathing any more.
For a moment the room froze, Zelda fainted on the floor with Leslie numb on top of her, Jane standing over them, and Robin still recovering in the corner, while Martha saw little but the flash of polished metal in Jane’s large hand. For a moment the action stopped cold, frozen in time, as it would always remain frozen in the five minds of the five women, each with different vantage points, each with different angles of perception, each with different versions of the truth.
Chapter Fourteen
Robin climbed from her car looking at the familiar setting of Roman Hill Estate. It was getting all too familiar anymore, though this should be the last time she had to make this trek, at least for awhile; that is, if all the loose ends had been wrapped up as neatly as it seemed. Staring up at Felicia’s turret bedroom once more, she flashed on the first time a week ago that she and Leslie had arrived to investigate the murder. It made even more sense to her now that Felicia had died in such a enigmatic way, with a host of odd women surrounding her, interplaying with her very complicated life. She liked complicated things, and so it was when she died.
“Feeling better this morning?” Leslie asked as she joined Robin and the two walked towards the house.
“I’m okay, a little headache, but it was mostly gone this morning. I still can’t get over that I didn’t get that knife from Zelda, Eve, whoever she was.”
“Oh, that doesn’t really surprise me,” Leslie replied. “You’re out of shape, need to brush up on some basic karate. You’re getting too lazy. A little too much laziness could kill you.”
“Well, you didn’t get it away from her either,” Robin reminded her partner.
“We can thank Jane,” Leslie said.
“Want to thank her personally?” Robin asked in jest.
“Maybe, just maybe.”
“Is she going to be here this morning?” Robin asked.
“I called to tell her we’d be here. She was rather non-committal,” Leslie replied. “But at least it’s over, Betsy should be here any minute.”
“Over, hum, that’s right it’s over.”
“What’s the matter? I’d think you’d be happy.”
“I should be, shouldn’t I?”
“But you’re not,” Leslie queried.
“No, I just have this weird feeling that it’s not over yet.”
“Weird feeling, about what?” Leslie asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” Robin answered.
