dismissed your pain. It's the same temper that made you grab the nearest knife and thrust it under Sarah's ribs right into her heart."
"Get out," she said, anger and incredulity fighting in her. "I don't have to take this from you." She took a step toward me.
"You can't get away with it, Helen," I said, my hands coming up automatically, palms facing her. "Once the police start looking at you, they'll find the evidence. It's all there, once you accept that Sarah wasn't killed by a burglar. As soon as they match your voice against that 999 call, you're right there in the frame."
"That's not going to happen." The voice wasn't Helen Maitland's. It came from behind my right shoulder. I whirled around, straight into fighting stance, poised on the balls of my feet.
It was Flora. And in her hand was a shiny long-barreled revolver.
Chapter 24
Her small pale hands looked too fragile to wield a big cannon like that, but the barrel wasn't trembling. Whatever was driving Flora, it was powerful stuff. "Flora," Helen said calmly.
"It's all right, Helen," Flora said, not taking her eyes off me.
Not with me it wasn't. I'd had enough of people waving guns at me. And frankly, I didn't think Flora was in the same league as Peter Lovell's gunmen. I glanced over at Helen Maitland and let my jaw go slack.
"My God!" I exclaimed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Flora's hand jerk as her eyes swiveled toward Helen. On the instant, I launched myself, right leg jabbing up and out at shoulder height, my own voice roaring in my ears like Bruce Willis on heat. Everything suddenly seemed to be in slo-mo; my foot connecting with her shoulder, Flora toppling toward the floor, her gun arm flying out to one side, her finger tightening on the trigger as I landed on top of her, my body tensing against the expected blast of the gunshot.
A tongue of flame spurted from the gun barrel, then died as Flora released her pressure on the trigger.
I'd been scared shitless by a cigarette lighter.
I'd been scared, no two ways about it. But now I was really, really cross. When I'd walked through the door, I'd been feeling sympathetic. My instincts had all been to find a way out of this situation that didn't mean Helen Maitland spending the rest of her useful life behind bars. Now I wasn't so sure that was what I wanted.
"That was really silly, Flo," Helen remarked in an off¬hand tone I'd never have been able to manage in the cir¬cumstances.
I disentangled myself from Flora's hair and limbs and pushed myself back to my feet. "It was a lot more than silly," I said. "For fuck's sake. I could have really hurt you, you flaming idiot."
Flora threw the gun across the room. It clattered into the kitchen unit next to Helen. Then she curled up into a ball and burst into tears.
Helen picked up the lighter and laid it on the kitchen table, then moved to Flora's side. She crouched down and put her arms around her. It felt as if Flora wept for a very long time, but it was less than five minutes by the kitchen clock. I didn't mind. It gave my heart time to return to its normal speed and rhythm.
Eventually, Helen steered Flora into a kitchen chair and sat down beside her. "Even a real gun wouldn't stop the police running those voice comparisons," I said. "I'm not daft enough to embark on a confrontation like this without leaving a bit of insurance behind in case some idiot pulls some brainless stunt where I actually do get hurt."
"Then it's all over," Flora said dully.
"How can you say that?" Helen demanded, pulling away. "How can you think that I... That's crazy."
"It's not crazy, actually." Flora's voice was shaky. "You see, if the police did start to run comparisons on that 999 tape, they would find a match."
"Look, Flora. I don't know where you've got this idea from. I didn't kill Sarah," Helen protested. "I'm appalled you could think so."
"I don't think so. No one knows the truth better than me."
There was a silence as Helen and I digested the impli¬cations of Flora's words. Then the enormity of my second screw-up in two days hit me. I'd been right about the obsessive power of love being responsible for Sarah Blackstone's death. But I'd picked the wrong candidate for the killer. I'd been so convinced that Helen was the