Confessions of a Murder Suspect

76

The silhouette looked like my father’s—I swear it did.

But when the man said my name, I realized that the dark—and my fear—had tricked me.

The man in our hallway was my father’s only brother, Peter, and the expression on his face told me that he was as freaked out as we were. I could make out the shadow of another figure behind Uncle Peter, which disturbed and disoriented me more. Who would he be bringing into our home at this time of night?

He said, “Hugo. Tandy. Everything is okay. Everything is fine. It’s almost three in the morning. Go back to bed.”

Uncle Peter was holding a laptop that looked like the one Harry and I had tapped into the day before, the one with the memos about drug protocols that had passed between the Angel brothers. We’d hardly begun our real investigation of those files, and now Uncle Peter was taking away the data that could tell us the formulation and purpose of each of the drugs. There could even be information on that computer that would expose the killer’s identity. Had Uncle Peter belatedly realized that it held evidence that would prove that he had murdered our parents?

He spoke over his shoulder to the man standing behind him. “Wolfe. Let’s go. We’re done here.”

“Hey!” I shouted. I reached out and switched on the hall lights. “What are you doing, exactly?”

I got a good look at Wolfe. He was gray-haired, with tattoos winding around his neck. He was carrying two boxes of files. I thought I’d seen him driving a forklift at Angel Pharma. “You heard Mr. Angel,” he yelled. “Get out of the way, little girl!”

“This is nothing you need to worry about, Tandoori. It’s all company property, and Angel Pharma is mine. Just do what I tell you. Both of you, go to your rooms. Now!”

I don’t know exactly what set Hugo off, but he went back across the hall—and returned from his room carrying a baseball bat.

He didn’t give any warning; he just swung the bat at Wolfe’s shins. The man hollered and dropped the file boxes. Then he rolled around on the floor, moaning in pain. Papers were scattered everywhere.

“Damn you, Hugo,” Peter spat. “You little SOB!”

“You need to get Mr. Wolfe to the hospital,” I said, sounding very cool, even though I was this close to running out the door screaming. “I’ll take that computer.”

“The hell you will.”

Hugo assumed a determined batter’s stance and held the bat angled fiercely over his shoulder. “I’d give her the laptop, Uncle Peter. If I were you. If I wanted to walk out of here.”

Uncle Peter seemed paralyzed, no doubt distracted by Wolfe, who was still howling in pain. I took advantage of his moment of confusion and yanked the computer out of his hands, then jumped back out of arm’s reach.

My uncle gave me a look that could kill. But he didn’t move toward me. He’d been shut down by a ten-year-old.

“There’s nothing on that computer that will mean anything to anyone but me. I need your father’s records.”

“You can have them when I’m done.”

“Fine. Knock yourself out, Tandy.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Uncle Peter pulled out his phone and punched a few buttons. “We need an ambulance,” he said, sounding more disgusted than worried. “There’s been an accident.”

I pulled Hugo into his bedroom and locked us inside. Uncle Peter knocked and said, “Tandy, just give me the computer. It’s my property.”

I said nothing.

“Go to hell!” my uncle shouted through the door.

“You first!” Hugo shouted back. “Take the express train.”

“And, Hugo, you’ll be going to juvie for this latest transgression. You’re an animal.”

Hugo and I huddled together as the paramedics came and went. Then, finally, the apartment was quiet again.

Hugo had his bat under the covers with him.

“We aren’t safe here,” he said. “We aren’t safe anywhere, are we?”