Bonnie of Evidence - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,91

shop, we can sort it all out there.”

Cameron seized Lucille’s arm, his expression turning testy. “Don’t listen to her Lucille. Your friends have put her up to this. They don’t want you to be happy.”

“Of course we want her to be happy. Why do you think we’ve gone through all this hassle to find the two of you?”

“I don’t understand,” Lucille puzzled. “How did you get here?”

“Helicopter.”

Her mouth fell open. “You chartered a helicopter to fly you from Wick?”

“I wish. We couldn’t find one to charter, so Nana had to buy it outright. I don’t know how she’s going to get the thing home.”

I trained a look at the street, where Erik and Etienne were standing toe-to-toe, locked in a discussion that looked to be growing heated.

“Please, you two, it’s my job to get you inside the building before—”

“I’m not a killer!” Erik’s voice was so loud, it drowned out the piper. “He’s the killer!”

I blinked stupidly. Why was he pointing at us?

With a sudden deft move, Cameron spun Lucille against him, bracing his forearm across her throat and forcing her arm behind her back. “Keep your distance!” he shouted at Erik. “Back off, or I swear I’ll break her arm.”

I cried out in protest. “What are you doing?”

The piper’s tune faded into silence as the audience focused their attention on this alternative adult drama.

“Let her go!” I demanded as I made a move toward Cameron.

He wrenched upward on Lucille’s arm, causing her to cry out in pain. “Not another step,” he warned as he dragged her backward

toward the intersection of two walkways, “or I promise, I will break her arm, and it’ll be excruciating.”

Erik and Etienne raced down the walkway, joining me as the crowd formed a wider semi-circle around us. “Your luck’s run out, Dasher.” Erik made a gimme motion with his hand. “Let her go.”

“Cameron,” whimpered Lucille, her face contorted in pain. “Why are you doing this?”

“Are you going to tell her?” asked Erik. “Or should I?”

Beads of sweat popped up on Cameron’s brow. “I love you, Lucille. You have to believe that. I’m just trying to protect you from all the lies people have spread about me.”

“That’s the spirit!” shouted a woman in the crowd.

The audience cheered.

“Listen to me, Mrs. Rassmuson,” Erik implored, “Cameron Dasher is a con man who makes his living by preying on unsuspecting widows like you. He marries them, kills them, then lives high on the hog off their estates. You want to tell her how many wives you’ve buried, Dasher?”

“Don’t listen to him, Lucille,” urged Cameron. “He’s trying to drive a wedge between us to convince you not to marry me.”

Boos and hisses from the audience.

“At last count it was five wives,” persisted Erik. “They’re healthy when he marries them, but they all die quite suddenly, under circumstances that leave a lot of unanswered questions. But Cameron has already made sure that his widows don’t have inquisitive relatives who’d raise any questions, so he’s home free, and free to roam around the country, repeating the process over and over again.”

“Lies!” Cameron spat, his eyes darting left and right as if searching for an escape route.

“It’s too bad the last Mrs. Dasher had pre-arranged her own funeral,” Erik continued. “I wouldn’t be standing here now if she’d opted to be cremated. And it was too bad about that long-lost relative of hers. It’s not like you to be so sloppy.”

Tears gathered in the corners of Lucille’s eyes and floated down her face. “Is what he’s saying true?” she choked out.

“I think the dude’s lying,” shouted a guy from the audience.

“Which dude?” asked someone else. “The good guy or the bad guy?”

“Which one’s the bad guy?” asked the piper.

“Poison is his stock in trade,” Erik thundered. “So what toxic brew did you use this time? The same one you used on wife number five, or something more lethal? You should consider yourself fortunate that Mr. Dasher took such a shine to you, Mrs. Rassmuson. You were spared the same fate as your fellow teammates.”

An exaggerated gasp went up from the crowd.

“Cameron,” Lucille sobbed. “Please.”

“Do you want to fess up about what turned you off on Isobel and Dolly?” Erik pressed. “Not enough money to satisfy you? More than the accepted quota of relatives?”

Cameron shook his head, rattled. “Isobel was a leech. A trouble-maker. If I didn’t get rid of her—”

“It’s true then?” Lucille choked out.

“Shut up.” He wrenched upward on her arm again. “Dolly screwed up by Googling me. Finding my name in