Love Can Be Murder

wound caused by the object sticking out of his chest:
    A wire stake topped with a pink plastic flag...just like the ones she'd used to stake off her new garden.

Chapter Eleven

    Until it boils over...

    FOR SEVERAL SURREAL SECONDS, Penny had the most bizarre feeling of déjà vu, as if she'd dreamed this incident, or had lived through it before....
    No—the voodoo doll she’d stabbed.
    She gasped and stumbled into the room, overwhelmed and confused. Terror pulsed through her veins as she fell to her knees next to Deke. Blood speckled the beige carpet.
    "Deke," she murmured, choking. She was certain he was dead—his eyes were open in a blank stare. His skin was chalky. He lay in an unnatural position. But she made herself press her trembling fingers against his neck to check for a pulse. Nothing.
    The sulfurous smell of blood enveloped her. Her stomach heaved, and despite her best efforts to move, she fisted her hands in the material of his jacket and threw up all over him. The alcohol burned her throat even worse on the way up than it had on the way down. By the time she had emptied her stomach, she was sobbing. She wiped her mouth with the edge of her shawl and stared at the unholy mess she'd made.
    Deke was dead. Not just dead— murdered.
    Shaking in disbelief, Penny scrambled to her feet, her mind reeling. What to do? Who to call? She hyperventilated until common sense finally kicked in—she had to calm down. Gulping for air, she picked up the phone to dial 911, and the situation slammed into her like a brick wall: What if the police thought she'd done it? Then another, more horrific thought hit her: What if whoever killed Deke was still in the house somewhere? Looting the spare bedrooms, rooting through the kitchen, prowling in the garage?
    With trembling hands, she returned the receiver to the cradle and covered her mouth to smother the scream that hovered at the back of her throat. Breathe, she told herself. Breathe...think. Wildly searching the room for a weapon, she grabbed an antique cane from the umbrella stand near the door. First she had to get out of this house, then she'd flag down a car or call 911 from the store.
    Desperation rose in her chest, threatening to paralyze her, but she forced herself to focus on her surroundings. With her heart thrashing, she stuck her head into the hall and frantically looked both ways. All clear.
    Wielding the cane like a baseball bat, she stepped out into the hall illuminated only by the light from the office. She started for the stairs. A noise below, however, stopped her. She froze, her ears zoning in.
    There it was again—the sound of quiet footsteps coming from the back of the house toward the foyer... as if the person was trying to mask their approach. Panic lodged in her throat—should she scream? Try to escape? Hide in the attic?
    Her lungs worked like bellows. Perspiration dripped down her back. She was sure the intruder would be able to hear her fractured breathing. Her stomach was roiling again, and she swallowed hard to try to ward off another sick episode. From where she stood on the landing, she couldn't see down into the foyer, and she prayed that she, too, couldn't be seen. A few seconds of silence passed and her breathing slowed. Then she heard the noise again—the person was climbing the stairs, and they apparently didn't know the creaky spots.
    Her pulse pounded in her ears as she fought the overwhelming urge to run. The light on the landing, she recalled, was blinding—if she could find the switch, she might have the advantage of surprise to get past the intruder or push them down the stairs. Pure fear spurred her into action. She lunged for the light switch and raised the cane, poised to kill if necessary. Or at least bruise.
    A hot, white light flooded the landing. The intruder threw up her overtanned arms and screamed like a wounded hyena.
    Sheena.
    Penny's shoulders slumped in abject relief.
    "I knew it!" Sheena said, stabbing her finger in the air. "I knew you and Deke were carrying on behind my back!"
    Penny squinted. "What?"
    "If you think you're going to get him back, you can think again!"
    Penny glanced toward the office door—at this angle, the scene inside wasn't visible.
    "How long has this been going on?"
    "You've got it all wrong, Sheena. Stop talking—I have to tell you something."
    "I want to hear this from Deke," Sheena said, then started toward the office.
    Penny grabbed her arm. "Don't go in there, Sheena."
    "What—is