Stork Raving Mad(90)

As soon as I heard the gun click empty, I heaved myself up again.

Blanco was still struggling to rise, and having trouble because he was still holding the gun. If he dropped it and used both arms, or worse, reloaded, I could be in trouble. Surely someone would have heard the shots by now.

I fumbled in my pocket. Aha! My flashlight. I grabbed his hand with one of mine and beat on it with the flashlight until his fingers opened and the gun fell out.

I snagged the gun and stood up, holding it in my right hand and the flashlight in my left. I began backing away, trying to decide if I should run for it. Probably better to find a way to keep him in the chair, since in my current condition I’d have trouble outrunning an elderly snail.

“Meg? Are you all right?”

Help was on the way. Deputy Sammy. I could hear his footsteps running up the front walk.

I pointed the gun at Blanco.

“That’s stupid,” he said, still a little breathless. “I emptied it while you were attacking me.”

“Are you sure?” I said.

I pulled the trigger.

He flinched as the gun clicked uselessly.

“Ah, well,” I said.

Just then the front door burst open, and Sammy strode in, holding his gun at the ready.

“Stand back, Meg,” he said. “I’ve got this covered.”

I dropped the now-useless weapon and put a well-stocked coatrack between me and the comfy chair Blanco was still trying to get out of.

“Are you Dr. Enrique Blanco?” Sammy asked.

“Yes,” Blanco wheezed. “How dare you point that gun at me?”

“Are you the owner of a dark blue Escalade?” Sammy asked, and he rattled off a license number and a VIN number.

Blanco blinked in surprise. Clearly this wasn’t what he was expecting to hear.

“Yes,” he said.

It wasn’t what I was expecting to hear either.

“Arrest him, Sammy,” I said. “He’s the one who killed Dr. Wright, and he tried to kidnap me.”

“And ran over my puppy with his horrible SUV,” Sammy said. “Horace is out there taking forensic samples. You’ll do time for this, you jerk!”

I heard voices and footsteps coming from the kitchen.

“Meg! Are you all right?” Michael.

“Ms. Langslow?” The chief.

“I’m fine,” I called. “And Sammy has your murderer.”





Chapter 29


Michael and the chief burst into the hallway in a dead heat. The chief skidded to a stop to draw his weapon and back Sammy up. Michael hurried to my side. Behind the chief, Art, Abe, The Face, Dad, and an assorted crowd of students were jostling in the hallway, trying to see.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked.

“I’m fine,” I said. “We need to—”

“She hit me with a piece of furniture,” Blanco said.

“That’s because he was attempting to kidnap me,” I said.

“I can’t believe the SUV that hit Hawkeye was parked right outside all day,” Sammy said. “If only I’d had a chance to patrol the grounds earlier.”

“Sammy!” Horace burst through the front door. “He’s got suitcases in his car! He was about to flee the jurisdiction.”

“You might want to search the suitcases for wads of cash, or bearer bonds, or whatever absconding embezzlers like to pack these days,” I said.

“No, he’s probably just taking clothes.” Josh pushed through the crowd, carrying a laptop under one arm. “I just figured out a little while ago that he sent a whole bunch of wire transfers this morning to his off shore banking accounts. The college would have been fifty million dollars poorer if he’d gotten away with it.”

“Fifty million dollars!” The Face yelped.

“Would have been?” the chief echoed.

“I fixed it,” Josh said, punching the air with his fingers as if imitating their rapid flight over the keys of his computer. “The money’s all back in his U.S. accounts now. Easier to reclaim.”

“No wonder he wasn’t paying the damned bills.” Randall Shiffley’s voice came from the crowd behind the chief.

“His real name’s Henry White,” I said. “Dr. Wright found out he was pretending to be Hispanic and she was blackmailing him into helping her persecute drama students. He killed her.”

“You’ll never prove it!” Blanco said.

“We’ll see about that,” the chief said. “Now, Ms. Langslow, if you could tell me just what—”

“Later,” I shouted as another cramp hit me. “Call Dr. Waldron. Take me to the hospital!”

“Breathe,” Michael ordered, and he began doing the hee-hee-hee-hoo breathing.