Chapter 30
“I loved her. Don’t you see…she was my world,” Cindy stated as though those words would explain everything.
Angel wanted to look up into the face of the distraught woman in front of her, but the gun pointing at her stole her focus. Forcing her mind to concentrate on what Cindy was saying, she said, “Marcia liked you very much.”
Cindy barked an angry noise, the gun waving as she said, “Liked? Jesus, liked? I. Loved. Her. Do you hear what I’m saying? I loved her.” A tear slipped down her cheek and she used her free hand to swipe at it. “But no, it was always about her sisters. The goddamn, fucking sisters.”
“The sorority sisters?” Angel asked, her gaze jumping up to Cindy’s face. “What…wh—”
“I met her when she hired me, straight out of college. I wanted to be a broker but the only job they had was broker’s assistant. I took it—it would pay the bills and she said she would train me. I worked with her every day.” Cindy’s voice shook with emotion, the gun waving in the process. “I fell in love with her. But she only saw me as a friend.”
Angel watched the distraught young woman, her eyes darting between the tears and the weapon. Her insides quivered with fear as her mind rushed with what to do. Her eyes landed on the security camera in the corner. Keep her talking. Keep her talking.
“We occasionally had lunch together, but that was all. No, no,” Cindy moaned. “For Marcia, her world was getting to the top, her precious sisters, and the men she would sleep with. She never looked at me like that.”
“So…did you work with the accounts?” Angel asked hesitantly. “Was that you?”
The sad expression slid from Cindy’s face as one more maniacal moved in. “No one knows how much power I wielded in the office,” she admitted. “All she talked about was the sisters. I couldn’t do anything about all of you, but there were three of you with accounts. I could become part of the group that way.”
Shaking her head slowly, Angel stood still, her mind unable to process what Cindy said fast enough to try to reason with her. Still standing just inside the kitchen, her eyes darted around to see if she could arm herself. Her purse was on the counter to her right and she knew her gun was inside. It’s too far away. Cindy’s gun hand wavered, the fatigue of holding it steady taking over. I’ve got to keep her talking.
“Are you the one who messed up my investment statement?”
A snort came from Cindy as she jerked the gun up. “Messed up? Jesus, you are stupid aren’t you? You give money to the broker and then sit back and don’t even know where it’s gone. I set up a company name and took part of the money to go into that company. But it actually went to me. All me.”
“Why?” Angel asked. “I don’t understand how that would affect you and Marcia.”
“I was only going to do it for a couple of years—just long enough to make me rich enough for her. I might not be one of her precious sorority sisters but, with money, I could be on her level. Then I’d be in her rich, my-daddy-is-a-Senator world.”
“Money didn’t matter to Marcia,” Angel cried, sliding a step closer to her purse. “She liked you as you were. Wasn’t that enough?”
Dragging her free hand through her hair, her face contorted. “You don’t understand. I wanted her. I wanted her to love me the way I loved her.”
Licking her lips, Angel stared at the agonized young woman in front of her. “I…I don’t know what to say, Cindy.”
Swiping another tear, Cindy continued on her rant as though eager to talk now that she had a captive listener. “But she didn’t want me. God, do you know how many men she slept with? I would follow her as she went to bars, meet some swinging-dick and head to a hotel. Over and over and over. She would fuck anyone with looks, but never once paid that kind of attention to me.” She looked over at Angel and implored, “Haven’t you ever wanted someone so badly that you’d do anything to get them to notice you?”
Until Monty had walked into her life, Angel would have said no to Cindy’s question but, loving him the way she did, she knew what it felt like to want to be with someone…but not that desperately! Wisely keeping quiet, she slid one more step closer to her purse.
“My plan was so good. Get some money, then I could easily fix the accounts and no one would be the wiser. I’d be on Marcia’s social level and planned on attending the same parties and family gatherings she attended.”
Angel’s mind focused on getting to the gun in her purse, but as she heard Cindy’s plan she realized the women was completely bonkers. Marcia was never about money. Marcia was about laughter, fun, old friends, good times…Cindy was never going to be able to buy her way into Marcia’s love. She watched as Cindy’s gun arm moved downward, growing tired. Keep her talking. “So what happened?”
“That stupid teacher, Theresa, went to Marcia and questioned her account. She noticed something. Marcia must have looked at it and she took it over from that idiot Roy.” Her eyes lifted back to Angel’s and she implored, “Don’t you see? I had to get rid of Theresa. A dead person’s account would just be closed out. I…I could have fixed it and no one would be the wiser.”
At that, Angel’s eyes grew wide. “You? You killed Theresa?”
Laughing, Cindy said, “Do you know how easy it was? It only took me one week to learn her routine. Come home from school, park in the garage and wait for her mechanic to come home to her. God, she was such a loser…and that greasemonkey she was with? And she got to be a close friend of Marcia and yet I wasn’t? How does that happen?” Swiping at the sweat on her forehead, she shook her head as though remembering every detail. “It was simple. Sneak into the garage, barely cut the brake line so that the fluid would seep out slowly.” Laughing, she added, “The snow and ice were a bonus. I hadn’t planned on that. The next day, I went in and took out the dummy company from her portfolio and no one was the wiser.”
“But Marcia? Betty?”
The smile slid from Cindy’s face. “I knew I had to do the same with Betty before Marcia got wise. I knew she had a heart condition from hearing Marcia talk about it a couple of years ago when Betty stayed in the hospital.” Giving a little shrug, she admitted, “It was easy to break in and add some drugs to her pills. They were sitting right in the medicine cabinet. I had to hurry, though, so I didn’t tamper with them all, just some. So I never knew when she might die.”
Angel’s knees buckled at the premeditated deaths of two of her friends. How does someone even think of these things? It’s crazy, but she made it work.” Gripping the counter with her knuckles to hold her up, she felt the adrenaline quivers begin to move over her body. Hold it together. Hold it together. Sliding one more half step, she was almost to her purse.
“But Marcia? Cindy, you said you loved her.”
At this, Cindy’s face fell, her chin quivering. “I did. I loved her so much. After Theresa died and I set things up for Betty to die, I thought I was good. We’d go to lunch. We’d gossip and laugh about the men in the office. But she kept digging into the accounts. She told me that when she found out what had happened, she would fire Roy and then she decided to take back your account as well. Because that was against company policy, I thought I’d be safe, but she really investigated.” Waving the gun around, she shouted, “All she cared about was you all…not me! I was nothing more than just a lunch buddy!”
“I’m sure that’s not true, Cindy,” Angel said, her hands behind her now, reaching her purse.
“I followed her the night she was supposed to meet up with you. I planned on dropping into the bar casually and then joining the two of you for drinks. I was going to befriend you also and…and…be one of the gang.”
“But I wasn’t there,” Angel prompted, her fingers feeling the cold metal in her purse.
“No. And just when I realized you weren’t coming and was going to make my move for Marcia and me to have an evening together, she picks up some guy at the bar. Jesus, he wore a wig, but Marcia’s eyes lit up the way they always did when she knew a fuck was coming.” Several more tears slid down her face. “I was right there…right in front of her, but she never looked at me like that.” Taking a breath, she lifted the gun a little higher as though remembering it was in her hand. “I followed them to that stupid motel. I stood outside the door, listening to the grunts and moans. I got sick. I actually got sick.”
“You killed Marcia?” Angel asked, Cindy’s twisted story not making any sense. Why would she kill someone she loved?
“I followed her out to her car. I got inside and surprised her. I held my gun on her and told her to drive. We went…I don’t know…somewhere. Down some road. I made her get out and I didn’t mean to kill her. I didn’t. I just wanted to make sure she understood how tired I was of watching her with men all the time. And you sisters.”
“But you couldn’t make her love you at the point of a gun, could you?”
Cindy shook her head slowly. “No. When she realized I’d killed Theresa, she lunged toward me. I fired.” She looked up, eyes now flowing with tears, her body ready to crumble and said, “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to. I killed the one person in the world that I loved.”
*
Cam, the best at breaking and entering, worked quietly on the front door. His large body squatted in an awkward position, trying to stay out of the line of sight in case Cindy came back into the shop from the kitchen. Bart, also skilled in getting into locked places, worked on the office window, facing the alley, but was more hesitant since the two women were in the kitchen, close to the office.
Cam, the first to be successful, slid the door open noiselessly. Mitch, as FBI, was in charge of the investigation, but nodded to the Saints as Monty slipped inside the shop, followed by Mitch, Marc, and Jack. The others at the back alley were alerted that those men were now inside.
Hearing Cindy confess to killing Marcia, Mitch crept around the empty display counter, creeping forward inch by inch. Monty, needing a better visual, moved stealthily toward the back wall of the shop in the dark, allowing him to see through the door leading to the kitchen. Jack and Marc spread out in the room. Using radio signals through their earpieces, they each knew the position of the others.
Once Bart opened the window, he stepped back, allowing a much smaller FBI agent to crawl inside, but guarded the back door. The door from the office into the kitchen was closed, halting the FBI agent’s progress.
Monty, listening to Cindy, knew she was nearing the end of her story—unfortunately, the time when the suspect decides what needs to be done next. And that is often when they kill again. I can’t get a fucking shot from this angle. He slid forward another few feet.
“My other bakery,” Angel said. “You tried to kill me too.”
Cindy’s glazed eyes moved back to Angel, her despondency being replaced with renewed anger. “Yes! It was all for nothing. The money I took from you three. The risk of killing Theresa and then Betty died. And…oh God, my Marcia. Work is fucking killing me. I’m now under Scott, one of the biggest idiots in the industry.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “He never would have figured anything out…never know there was a problem. At least, I could make the changes to your portfolio and then quit. Get another job and no one would be the wiser.”
Her eyes held Angel’s for a moment. “But you found the problem and sent an email to Scott. I had to get rid of you too.”
“Didn’t you think that the authorities were putting it all together? Both the fact that the victims were all connected with the sorority and CFG? How did you think you would get away with it?” Angel’s voice rose with each word till she was screaming in rage. “And now? You’re going to shoot me in my bakery?”
“It’ll be easily explained,” Cindy said. “You had all those tramps in here earlier. I shoot you and head down the street, slipping my gun into the pocket of one of them. The police will think one of those bums came back to get money or something and shot you.” Monty, listening from the other room as he moved into position, his sights on Cindy, cringed. Baby, keep calm. Speak softly…don’t piss the crazy off! He knew Cindy was close to losing it and he only had one good shot to take her down.
Just as he moved into position, a broom in the back corner of the room fell over, landing with a loud Whack, startling everyone. Cindy jumped, whirled and pointed the gun through the door of the shop, as Mitch shouted, “Halt! FBI! Put your weapon down!”
Angel heard the shout and jerked her gun up, firing at Cindy’s arm just as Cindy fired toward the back wall of the dark shop. Screaming in pain, Cindy dropped her gun and fell to the floor, holding her bloody right arm.
Screaming for Monty, Angel ran past Cindy into the darkened shop. Seeing Monty stalking toward her from the back, she launched her body into his. He caught her in mid-air, clutching her tightly. One hand holding the back of her head to his shoulder and the other around her middle, pressed to his chest. Their hearts pounded, a disjointed staccato as both bodies shook in unison. Jack moved behind them, gently taking the gun from her hand. Monty shot him a grateful look as he continued to hold her.
Too many things happened at once for Angel to process, as Monty moved forward to set her on top of one of the tables. Pulling back, he peered into her eyes, seeing a mixture of emotions. The ringing in her ear intensified, making all other sounds muffled. She brought her hand up to her ear, a grimace on her face.
“Baby, can you hear me?”
She nodded, mumbling “Yeah. I put cotton in it this morning.” Taking deep breaths, she looked around, seeing the bakery filling with men. Agents with FBI emblazoned across the back of their jackets. The Saints. Rescue workers were already on site and working on Cindy. “She killed them all and I…I shot her,” Angel said, the adrenaline still pumping through her veins.
“Good thing too, baby. I didn’t have a clear shot of her at first and she could have easily hit me.”
At that, Angel’s gaze hit Monty’s, held for a second and then she surged forward. Latching onto his lips, she kissed him. A tangle of teeth, tongues, and lips, the kiss became their reason for breathing. For being.
Slowly pulling apart, he glanced down at her kiss swollen lips before gradually moving his gaze over her face, memorizing every inch. Holding her face in his palms, he leaned back in until his lips were a whisper away from hers. “I love you, Angel. The idea of losing you…fuck…”
Her eyes slid from his ravaged face, over his shoulder, to the back of the store, now bright with all of the lights. Bart, Cam, Jack, and Marc circled nearby. A bullet hole was in the middle of the mural, where Cindy’s missed shot landed. She smiled tentatively as her chin quivered.
Monty glanced to the wall where Angel was looking. “You saved me, baby.”
“No,” she said, pointing to the mural. “He did.”
The men looked over at the painting. Seeing the medieval man serving loafs of bread from the stone oven. Monty looked back at Angel, her face serene as she pulled out the charm necklace from underneath her shirt. Nodding her head to the back wall, she said, “Your namesake, Monty. I’ve worn him around my neck ever since my brother gave this to me and I had him painted on my bakery wall.”
He looked at her, his expression confused. “My…my namesake?”
Smiling, she said, “I knew you were the man for me the first time you told me your name. Montgomery Honor Lytton.” Glancing around at the other Saints before looking at the face on the mural, then deep into Monty’s eyes, “He’s St. Honoratus. The patron Saint of bakers.”