The Palm Beach Murders James Patterson (ebook reader with built in dictionary .TXT) 📖

down Brennan like he had Teal the day before. I stepped over to him, patted him on the back, gently wrapped my hand around the gun, and eased it from his tight grip, quietly saying, “It’s going to be okay.” He visibly relaxed as he relinquished the pistol and took a pace backward.

Now I held the gun. I took a breath to calm down. Marty was about to snap, and I was sure I’d taken the pistol just in time. As I stepped away from him, closer to Brennan, I told Marty, “Just wait right there, sweetheart, and keep calm.”

Brennan picked up on the fact that I was trying to keep Marty from doing anything crazy, and he thought we were looking for a way out. He waited while I made sure the pistol was pointed down, away from anyone’s vital organs.

Marty appeared a little hurt that I had taken the gun from him. If I had acted a little faster the day before, maybe poor Teal would still have been alive. The gun was heavy in my hand. Heavier than I remembered it from the range. I carefully slipped it into the pocket of my jeans. It fit snugly.

Brennan was visibly relieved and regained some of his swagger. He raised his voice and said, “You found some moron you can order around and you think it’s love? Christy, what in the hell are you guys doing here? This doesn’t help anyone. You guys need to get out of my house and sober up.”

That’s when I straightened up and looked him right in the eye and said, “I’m not drunk. In fact, I’ve barely had a drink all night.” I realized that surprised Marty, too, as he looked at me with a puzzled expression.

Then I reached into my purse, the one large purse I owned, and easily drew out another pistol. The second one of the matched set. It looked identical and rendered both men absolutely mute. I liked that.

I gave my full attention to Marty. “I’m afraid there’s a lot you don’t understand, sweetheart. And I don’t think you’ll ever realize how much this bothers me.” He still had that look like a puppy as I stepped closer to Brennan, standing just behind him and facing Marty. “I mean it, Marty, I am really, really sorry.” Then I aimed the pistol and squeezed the trigger. Just like I had been taught. By Brennan. The pistol bucked in my hand and the noise inside the house, with all the marble and tile, sounded like a nuclear blast.

But I still managed to hit my target and shot Marty once, almost dead center in his chest.

The flash from the muzzle blinded me temporarily. I didn’t even see any bloodstain on his shirt before he dropped straight to the floor, and thankfully, he didn’t make any sounds like Teal had. He rolled onto his back, and then everything stopped. He was absolutely still. My ears rang from the gunshot, and the air had the acrid odor of gunpowder. Marty was dead. It had been quick, and he was now flat on a hard wooden floor that would be easy to clean up.

I’d noticed how much Brennan had jumped when I pulled the trigger. I couldn’t see his face, but I could imagine what he was thinking right now. His legs were already trembling.

Good God, this was what I had been waiting for.

Chapter 32

I was still standing behind Brennan, who dared not turn his head. He had a perfect view of Marty’s crumpled body about fifteen feet in front of him. My ears still throbbed from the noise of the gunshot. Now I knew why we always wore earplugs when we went to the range. My guess was that right about now, Brennan was regretting our days shooting together and his detailed lessons. At the time, he’d just enjoyed being able to tell me things. It had been a power trip for him.

Brennan’s voice cracked as he said, “Christy, Jesus Christ, what have you done?” He choked up on whatever he was going to say next as he tried not to vomit.

“How’s it feel, Brennan? Knowing you’re helpless. Is it a new sensation?” I let a brief silence fall over the room so I could enjoy seeing Brennan squirm. Now he was shaking as he tried to maintain his composure. The air was still filled with the odor of the gunshot. This old house had never seen anything like this, and Brennan had never experienced anything like it either. He deserved it. Not just for the way he’d treated me, but for the way he treated the rest of the world. It was time he learned he wasn’t better than anyone else.

I said, “I doubt the sound of the shot even penetrated the walls. No one outside this room has any idea what just happened. No one is coming to help.” I let that sink in, then said, “Stand there perfectly still, looking straight ahead. Got it?”

He nodded frantically. Sweat stains were now visible on the back of his shirt near his underarms. I don’t think I’d ever seen Brennan sweat.

I said, “I’d like to savor your reaction to this, but I have a lot to do.”

“What—what are you talking about? What do you have to do?” He started to whimper and added, “What’s going on? I don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“I think experts call it ‘arranging the crime scene.’” I stayed behind him as I snapped on a pair of gloves. I’d figured out the right trajectories and what the residue tests would show. “You see, Brennan, it took a lot of research to learn that the cops might connect the gun to Teal’s murder. I had to take all that into account and come up with the right story.”

“Story? What story? You’re going to try to make the police believe I shot your boyfriend?”

I chuckled. “I have no doubt I could sell any story to the cops at this point. It’s