I scrambled forward, snatched up the gun, and pushed off the safety.
He flung himself at the tailgate as she started the truck. She backed up and shifted gears, gunned the engine, and turned the wheel, peeling out. I watched him haul himself over the side and into the truck bed, disappearing from view. I turned and extended my arms, both hands on the gun as I aimed. It helped that I was pissed off. I was talking aloud, admonishing myself to take my time. There was no reason to panic. The ground was flat and I'd be able to see them for a long time. I located one of the rear taillights between the niche in the gun's rear sight and the niche in the foresight as I squinted down the barrel. I hadn't paid attention to Dolan's choice in ammunition, but if I remembered correctly, the baseline 9mm 100-grain slug moves out at muzzle velocities of between 1,080 and 1,839 feet per second, depending on slug rate. My figures might have been off, but not by much. I fired. The recoil was like a quick sneeze, kicking the barrel up and back. I missed, corrected, fired again, and heard a tire blow. Cornell had flattened himself in the bed of the truck. I altered my sights slightly and fired again, missing. I took aim again and fired four more rounds, trying to make each one count. By the time I paused, both back tires were flat. After that, the truck veered off course and came to a stop almost of its own accord. I approached on foot, taking my time, knowing I had sufficient rounds left to take care of business if Justine and Cornell still felt like arguing.
Epilogue
* * *
Justine was arrested and charged with two counts of first-degree murder, with a string of related offenses thrown in to sweeten the pot. Edna and Ruel prevailed on Cornell to hire a lawyer of his own, and his lawyer, in turn, persuaded him to make a deal with the DA. After all, he'd had nothing to do with the murder of Charisse Quinn and he'd had no part in Pudgie Clifton's death. That Saturday after I'd gone to the house to talk to Justine, she'd panicked and begged for his help in moving Pudgie's body and subsequently burying the tire iron with which she'd killed him. Cornell pled guilty to being an accessory after the fact, for which he's serving one year in the county jail. Edna and Ruel have taken on the responsibility for Amelia, Mary Francis, and Cissy McPhee until their father's release.
Justine's motivation wasn't difficult to fathom. She'd killed Charisse for seducing Cornell and trying to steal the life she'd envisioned for herself. It was indeed Pudgie who'd stolen the Mustang and loaded Charisse's body in the trunk. While Justine packed the dead girl's clothes and forged the note explaining her fictional departure, Pudgie drove the body to Lompoc and dumped it at the quarry Iona'd told him about. Justine waited a week and then called the Riverside County Sheriffs Department, pretending to be Charisse's mother and claiming her daughter was safely home again.
Once Pudgie reappeared in Quorum with news that the investigation had been reactivated, Justine had been forced to eliminate him. She'd enlisted Cornell's aid in disposing of Pudgie's body as she'd once enlisted Pudgie's aid in disposing of Charisse. His was certainly too unwieldy a corpse for her to manage on her own. The day I'd startled her in the laundry, it was his blood and brains she was washing from her clothes. It dawned on me later that the business with Medora's doors standing open was Justine's doing as well, affording her the opportunity to pump me for information about the progress I'd made.
For once in his life, Frankie Miracle was innocent of any complicity in these crimes, a fact that went some way toward brightening his outlook.
With the trial date approaching, Justine's attorney is insisting on a change of venue, maintaining she'll never get a fair trial in Riverside County after the media circus generated by her arrest. I love it when killers want to argue about what's fair.
On a more homely note, Stacey's still living with Dolan, an arrangement that suits them surprisingly well. Both are currently in good health, limiting their consumption of tobacco and junk food, and continually grousing about each other, as good friends are sometimes inclined to do. As for me, I'm back in my office in Santa Teresa, unpacking my moving boxes while I wait to see what else life has to bring.
Respectfully submitted,
Kinsey Millhone
Sue Grafton, Q Is for Quarry
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