Thirteen Diamonds

Gerald's.
    “Then Joe and I will witness it and we'll be all set. I know you had a strongbox in your apartment where you stored some of your official documents. I looked in your room last time I was at Albert's and saw it there. At your funeral I'll have a chance to slip the original of your amendment in the box, where Albert will find it.”
    “Why would I want to give money to Silver Acres now that you've kicked me out?”
    “Oh, it will be dated several weeks ago. You just haven't gotten around to rescinding it yet.”
    “Albert won't buy it.”
    “Yes he will. I have Albert wrapped around my...”
    “Be careful,” Joe growled.
    “It's just an expression, Honey.”
    What should I do now? If I told Carol that Wesley already knew she had embezzled money, they would kill him too. And I didn't want them going after Tess, or Albert, or anyone else.
    “You've got a roll of duct tape in your office, don't you?” Carol asked Joe. He nodded. “Go get it. Hurry. And close those blinds on your way out.”
    The blinds were for the window on Carol's door. Joe closed them, went out and shut the door behind him. Nobody could see into the office. Carol opened a drawer of her desk and pulled out a gun.

CHAPTER 28
     
    “So what are you going to do to me?” I asked Carol, eyeing the gun. The gun made my predicament, which had seemed like a dream, suddenly very real to me.
    “Oh, right. I haven't told you. Well, you're going to have an accident, driving home. Your eyesight, you know, poor dear. After all, you do have cataracts in both eyes.”
    Damn those medical records. “Would you like to fill me in on the details?”
    “Sure. Joe, among his other accomplishments, has been a movie stunt man. Car crashes are part of his repertoire. You're going to be in the driver's seat, but he'll be at the controls. And he'll be wearing a seat belt. You won't, of course, and your car is too old to have an air bag.”
    Joe came in with the duct tape. “Tape her mouth shut,” Carol said. “Tape her legs together and tape her hands behind her back.”
    Joe did as he was told, quickly and efficiently, without looking me in the eye.
    “Come with me,” Carol said to Joe. He followed her out of the office and closed the door.
    What now? Could it be that Carol had to convince Joe of his role in this shenanigan? Joe had apparently not been part of the team that had effected Gerald's demise so he was not yet a murderer. Whatever the delay, it bought me a little time.
    To do what? Not time enough to free my hands. And I couldn't move anywhere without expending more energy than I had to expend. My purse sat on the floor beside my chair. My cell phone was in my purse. Could I get to it?
    I slid down from my chair to the floor, trying not to break anything. I wriggled into a position where I could reach my purse with my hands. I got my hands inside the purse and found the phone. I pulled it out and managed to move my hands in tandem around to one side of my body far enough to look at the phone and refresh my memory as to where the keys were.
    With some effort I could punch the keys. How could I use it? Call 911? No, because a cell phone doesn't have a location and I couldn't speak. Leave a message? What kind of a message? I could beep Carol. What number would I leave? That would be a momentary distraction, at best.
    I knew one other person who had a beeper. Mark carried a beeper because the bar he worked at sometimes asked him to come in at odd hours. Since the only remaining requirement for his Ph.D. was to finish his dissertation his time was flexible.
    I knew Mark's beeper number because he had told it to me after the escapade at Ellen's apartment. He had said to call him if I ever needed help. It was 543-9625, an easy number to memorize: descending sequence for three digits, starting with five, then three squared, three times two, two, and ending with the first digit—five.
    I punched in the number and hesitated; what return telephone number should I give? The telephone number to my apartment had been cancelled. If Mark called it he would get an out-of-service message, but he had called me before and perhaps he would recognize it as belonging to me. I punched it in and disconnected.
    I connected again and repeated the process: Mark's number, wait a few seconds for the tone, which I couldn't hear, my number, disconnect; connect and repeat. I did the sequence over and over again, like sending out an SOS from a sinking ship. I became