Free A Killer Closet by Paula Paul Page B

to be marble looming in front of them. She moved to a keyboard on the wall to deactivate the alarm that was screeching an alert.
    Irene took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to relieve the tension that was building inside her. “All right, let’s start searching.” She turned to her left, moving into a room swathed with darkness.
    Adelle seemed unwilling to move. “Searching for what?”
    “For whatever it was Susana wanted you to find.” Irene moved farther into the darkened room, but she stopped and turned quickly when she heard footsteps on the staircase.
    Something was moving down the stairs, something large and lumbering. Her rational mind told her it had to be human. She stopped breathing when she heard the sound.
    The click of a bullet dropping into a chamber.

Chapter 7
    Irene heard an alarmed intake of breath from Harriet. She hurried back to the entry hall and saw Adelle reach a trembling hand toward her. She took Adelle’s hand and put a finger to pursed lips to signal both women to be silent.
    A vortex of indecision swirled in Irene’s mind. Her first instinct had been to herd the two women back toward the door, but that came with a fear that they would all be shot in the back. Staying put didn’t seem to be a better option. It would be best to try to hide in the shadows.
    Before she could act, Irene caught a glimpse of blue fabric as the figure continued the slow advance down the stairs. A woman. Irene could clearly see the blue color of the dress that fell just to her knees. The design was unmistakably Chanel. The same dress Angel had sold that morning.
    A face emerged out of the shadows. Her customer! Or, more correctly, Angel’s customer stood above them.
    The woman smiled—a warm, friendly smile—but she kept the gun pointed directly toward Adelle’s head. “Good evening,” the woman said, still smiling. “I’ll kill your mother first if you take another step inside this place.”
    “Oh, my God!” Adelle inched closer to Irene and leaned heavily against her. “What have you gotten us into, Irene?”
    “Who are you?” Irene demanded.
    Adelle gasped. “For heaven’s sake, Irene, shut up and get us out of here.”
    The woman chuckled as she walked down the stairs. “It doesn’t matter who I am.” She moved all the way down the stairs and toward the women until she was standing next to them. She placed the barrel of the gun against Adelle’s head. Harriet gasped, and Adelle went limp, forcing Irene to catch her in her arms.
    “What do you want?” Irene managed to sound more forceful and confident than she felt.
    “You should listen to your mother and keep your mouth shut,” the woman said. “Oh, before I kill all of you, I do want to say how much I love the dress, Irene, my dear.”
    Harriet’s face had gone completely white, and Irene was afraid she, too, was about to faint, but all she did was stumble backward. Her movement distracted the armed woman enough to allow Irene to act. In an instantaneous dancelike move, Irene allowed her mother to slip to the floor while she bent forward and brought the edge of her hand downward with brutal force against the wrist behind the gun. The gun fell to the floor in an angry and fiery outburst. Before the stunned woman could react, Irene had both of her arms pinned behind her.
    She yelled at Harriet, “Pick up the gun!”
    Harriet, terror-stricken and gray with fear, did as she was told. With trembling hands, she handed the gun to Irene, barrel first. Acting quickly, Irene forced her shoulder into the woman’s chest while she retrieved the gun from Harriet. She jabbed it into the woman’s stomach, forcing her against the wall.
    “Now tell me who you are!”
    “I’m…I’m the caretaker.” The woman’s voice was a weak quiver.
    Irene jabbed the gun deeper into the soft folds of the woman’s plump stomach and shouted, “You’re no caretaker. Tell me who you are!”
    The woman bent forward in an attempt to protect her